The sound of metal clashing drew the sleeping man from his dreams. As the vivid images withdrew, the blanket of dark slowly lifted to reveal a small cosy bedroom. The man sighed as he relished the sensation of warmth and was loathe to leave the confines of the bed but the clashing seemed louder, which meant what ever it was, was closer.

He wasn't sure why he felt the need to hide, but before he could convince himself he was being foolish, the young man had slipped silently behind the door just as it opened. He held his breath as the figure walked in carrying a tray with food upon it. The figure was tall, slim with messy brunette hair, tied securely in a bun. The woman paused upon seeing the empty bed and proceeded to put down the tray giving her patient the room he needed to slip past and through the door. Without pausing for a second he closed the door on her before she'd even turned.

"Hey!" He heard her call out as he turned the key in the lock and with a triumphant smile he headed towards the stairs.

"Afternoon," the voice was calm, belonging to that of a man, a surprised man in his early fifties, with ragy white hair and matching beard. He seemed to study the younger man with a suspicious but sympathetic eye and beyond his initial greeting, seemed at a loss for what else to say.

The two men regarded each other, the older man scrubbing the back of his head in a kind of nervous fashion, while the younger man shuffled from barefoot to barefoot, all the time the woman whom he had locked in the bedroom, banging upon the door calling to be let out.

"I see you met Andy," the older man said after a while. "You're not the first guy to want to lock her up like that either." It was obviously a joke, one lost on the poor woman who ceased her pounding.

"I heard that Dad!" She cried followed by more pummelling on the door.

"That's me never hearing the end of it," the man chuckled and stepped aside while his nervous house guest tried to get by. "Oh if you're well enough to leave, son, you might wanna get some clothes on first, it's a little cold out side."

Looking down at himself, he realised he was as naked as the day he was born. In his efforts to cover up the young man stumbled and proceeded to fall down the first flight of stairs, his bare back connecting with all the hard wooden edges before coming to a stop at the midway point, thankfully stopping himself from rolling down the rest.

He groaned as he attempted to right himself but was quickly set back to stillness by a cold hand on his shoulder.

"Don't move!" Andy ordered, her pale green eyes gauging her patients condition. "Did you hit your head again?"

"I don't think so…" he responded automatically and winced when her small but strong hands probed his bare chest.

"Did that hurt?"

"No, your hands are cold." Andy glared down at her patient before waving up at her father who threw down a robe.

"Now, I want you to get back up there and into bed. I don't know what happened to you, but you're in no condition to go charging off, not until I've looked you over."

"I'm not sure there's any more of me for you to see." He joked as he was helped back to his feet by the father and daughter pair. The dad seemed to appreciate the humour, while Andy scowled at them both.

"You know what I mean!" Andy floundered, a flush of colour in her cheeks which the forgetful man had to admit, seemed very cute. After a few minutes he was once again on the bed, the bruises and bumps, new and old all protesting vigorously. "Dad could you get my bag from down stairs please?" Andy asked seeing her father nod and leave to fetch the required item. "Follow my finger." He done as she asked, getting the impression she knew exactly what she was doing.

"You're a doctor?"

"I am. Dr McGregor." She leaned in closer to inspect the gash to his head, satisfied there was no new damage to the older wound. "You're turn. What's your name?"

If he was honest he had been hoping she would know this already. The pair seemed so intent on helping him he just assumed they knew him.

"I uh… I'm not sure."

"Look if you're in trouble with the law, I could care less. Actually it would mean you were someone I could trust." She sighed and shook her head.

"No, I mean it. I have no idea who… or where I am. I don't even remember getting here." He indicated his surroundings, wincing when the motion caused his chest to stab with pain.

"Well, that's hardly a surprise since you were unconscious when my brothers brought you here." She regarded him with a quizzical look. "You didn't have any ID on you but…you did have a gun."

"Where is it?"

"I put it away. It…it's been fired recently." Andy looked a little cautious now as she was reminded of the potential danger she was in.

"I won't hurt you…" he began but the young doctor quickly shook her head.

"No offence, mister but I don't know that do I? And if you don't even remember yourself, how do you know you wouldn't hurt me?"

That was a very good question. "You don't think I could have… hurt anyone, do you?"

"Who knows? This place has plenty of low-lives." Her father entered at that moment with an old doctors bag which she quickly took, clearly thankful for the distraction. "Look all I want to do is get you back on your feet and shipped off to the nearest hospital. The only reason you're not there now is because of this storm, it's too dangerous to call in a helicopter." He watched as she loaded a hyperaemic with something and he naturally felt a little nervous. "Relax it's just a tetanus shot…" She regarded him for a moment before sticking the needle deftly into the right side of his hip. "So what do we call you? It's not like I can just go around saying "hey you"."

"What do you usually call patients who don't know their own name?" He tried not to flinch when she stabbed him, he might have forgotten who he was exactly, but he knew he still wanted to impress this girl with his machismo. He was a man after all and memory of self had nothing to do with instincts.

"John Doe."

"John huh?"

"Doe. John Doe." Andy clarified having mistook his question as a mispronunciation of her given name for him. He just blinked back at the attractive doctor and smiled.

"I guess it will have to do." 'John' sighed and sat himself up, not content with simply laying about. The entire situation had him anxious and rightly so. How often did one wake up with no recollection of who one was? It was a serious question because, he didn't know.

After a day of nothing but bed rest, John Doe was getting very irritated. He had been locked away in the McGregor's house with nothing to do but sleep and think. When he wasn't thinking, his sleep was plagued with vivid images that he knew should be familiar, but the meaning continued to elude him.

Andy had said that amnesia wasn't something she could help him with, there was nothing in her little, black doctors bag that would help him to regain everything he had lost. He needed to give himself time and if he was lucky, his mind would recover and his memory would return. If it didn't? Well, he hadn't been able to vocalise that particular question, so during his waking hours, he would think about that possible scenario. He could go to the authorities and ask them for help, but considering the events following his memory loss, he some how sensed that wouldn't be in his best interests and had managed to convince Andy not to get the law involved. She'd even relented and agreed not to send him to the main hospital in the city.

John wasn't exactly sure how he'd managed to talk her out of that as she had been fairly insistent he get the proper care, rather than the little she had been able to offer. For her every argument, he had another to counter it and when he didn't, compliments flowed from his lips as if he'd uttered them a hundred times before, to a hundred different women. Andy might be fiercely independent and confident, but she was still a women and it seemed he had a knack for getting them to see his way of thinking, thanks largely to how he looked.

Once the swelling and bruising had settled, beginning its retreat as the healing process began; John examined himself in a mirror on the wall of the little bedroom that had become his home. He was quite a handsome man, with light brown hair, that had natural blond highlights from being bleached in a warmer sun not currently found in his current climate of Montana. His skin was a healthy golden tan, something else that confirmed he wasn't local. He had a very strong jaw, a pair of pale blue eyes all topped off by one perfect smile complete with original teeth.

John had to wonder, the stranger staring back at him through the mirror was very different to the kind of man usually looking for work in Montana, what had he come here for?

He gazed a little longer at the slender build of the man in the mirror and apart from the large black and blue bruising around his left side, his body was sporadically scarred having suffered injuries he had no memory of. His body was a canvas of lines and marks, but no colour or tone of recollection. It was frustrating.

In that moment of defeat, as John was starred down by the strange man before him there was a quiet rapping upon the bedroom door and so, gathering up the robe to pull back around his unfamiliar body, he bid the person enter. He knew it would be Andy, he'd heard her come home a half hour ago. She worked out of a small clinic some where close by, being the only doctor for miles and for many of the working men in the area; he guessed she was a busy woman. Still, despite her schedule, she came home during lunch to make sure he had some too.

John gave her his best smile as he stepped away from the mirror and sat on the bed as she set the bowl of soup and home made bread roll out on the table beside him.

"Admiring yourself." She asked with a smile, assuming (and perhaps correctly) John was something of a vain man.

"Oh just grilling him for answers," he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the mirror. "He's a tough one though, he won't talk."

"He will eventually, I'm sure of it." Andy handed him a napkin and sat on the chair across from the bed as John took hold of the bowl and spoon and began to eat. "It's only been a day, just give yourself a chance."

"I know," he nodded and put the bowl down so he could sit a little more comfortably, trying very hard not to pull at the sore bones in his chest. "But I don't think I'm a very patient person. Or at the very least, used to doing this much nothing."

"Well you've had a very traumatic experience. It's not like I can just let you rush back out there especially…" she paused as if debating whether or not to say what she had just been about to.

"What is it?"

"I had a visitor today at my clinic. Some cop, claimed to be from the next town over looking for someone. He had a picture of you."

"Someone was looking for me?" He felt his heart rate rise. The nightmare could well be over soon if someone he knew was looking for him, but the look in Andy's eyes had him wondering if it would be a happy ending. "Well… what did he say?"

"It's not what he said, it's what he didn't say and more importantly, where he came to look for you. My clinic, as if he knew you'd be hurt."

"He could be a concerned friend…"

"He also wouldn't disclose your name to me, just said you were a person of interest and I should call him if I see you." John felt the hopes that had been soaring, come crashing back down to earth with a thump. "Look I took his number," she handed over the scrap of paper and John took it with a slightly shaking hand. "I'll let you call him when you're ready, but I wasn't about to do that with out talking to you first. I just thought it was the best thing to do."

"I appreciate that Andy, really." He felt at a loss for words for the first time in…literally in as long as he could remember. "I have no idea how to thank you and your father. You've both been so kind."

Andy chuckled softly, her green eyes sparkling and John felt his stomach flip slightly. She really was very beautiful but carried herself like she had no clue. Her hair was again, tied back in a hastily erected up doo, with strands and wisps of the dark brunette shade floating around her perfectly symmetrical face. She didn't wear any makeup, as far as he could tell the blush in her rosy cheeks was natural and set off her flawless pale skin. There was a wrinkle here and there around her eyes, ones created by the laugher that had claimed her a moment ago.

"Don't be silly, we would do it for any body in trouble. So don't go thinking you're special or anything."

"Perish the thought." He grinned as she stood, gathering up the tray but leaving the bowl and other utensils.

"Eat up; I'll be back with your meds before I head back out. Then you're going to get some sleep." He tried very hard not to whine, but the sound left him before he could halt it. "Oh stop that, you sound like a child."

"I know." He sighed and gave her his best pleading look. "Is it working?"

"No." With that she left the room, leaving the handsome man to wallow.

There were times in his life when one day felt like an eternity to Murdock, and to counteract those instances, the universe took days away, often those were days in the VA hospital when he was alone without his friends.

When he was without his team, his days had no meaning, no drive, no life and he hated them. In those days H. M. Murdock didn't exist, he became like a cocoon of which the creature inside had taken flight to be some place better. In his mind he could see that some place, his mind would tap into that creature, taking flight and soaring over land and sea and he would exist there until he was called back to that empty husk of a body. Almost every time he regretted being pulled back, unless of course it was a call from Face telling him they were springing him from the VA. Those times, were the most exciting because he knew he was going to start living again, not merely existing and those days would be the most normal he would ever have. With purpose and a sense of belonging once again, Murdock poured heart and soul into the work they did as the A-Team. H. M. Murdock was alive and well on those days.

Today was one of those 'alive and well' days, despite the circumstances, no; in spite of them.

When any one member was missing, the team functioned like a dinning table with a leg missing, the van without a wheel, it could do the job, but there would be sparks and spilt milk, both of which annoyed B.A no end as his love of the van and milk were legendary.

The big guy stood close by Murdock as they patrolled the Clydesdale lumber yard watching for any trouble. They'd only been there a day and hadn't seen anyone attempting to sabotage production. The place didn't seem to be struggling for workers either and as Murdock watched the lumber jacks interact, none of them seemed worried. Unusual for a place supposedly under siege by a heartless rival firm. But it had only been a day, there was time enough for trouble to brew and if it did they would act, do the job they were being paid for.

"I don't like this." B.A announced suddenly, pulling Murdock from his people watching. "It's too quiet, you're too quiet. What happened to your jibber-jabber?"

"Well I'm just thinking, B.A. I'm just thinking that same thing actually. The jibber-jabber isn't as loud right now, the silence, the lack of violence, it bugs me."

"I hear that." His muscle bound friend turned and started to patrol in the opposite direction leaving Murdock watching the workers a moment before he jogged to catch the mud-sucker up.

"A whole day and no word from Face," he began to confide, knowing that was the reason he had been unusually quiet. "I'm worried, B.A, real worried…"

"Me too, but Hannibal is right. Faceman can look after himself."

"I know, I know but the last time we went this long without contact was back in Nam."

"Listen, Murdock. This isn't Vietnam. Face is gonna be alright." A heavy, hand fell onto the pilots shoulder and all Murdock could do was nod. He wished he had that kind of faith the colonel and B.A seemed to possess but when you lived in a mind as cluttered as his, it was easy to get swept away.

"Okay, big-guy. I'll take your word for it." At that moment the van pulled into the yard with Hannibal at the wheel. While Murdock and B.A kept watch at the yard, the colonel, while disguised as a local cop, had been scouting the area looking for any traces of their missing man. The way he got out of the van and started towards the pair, they knew he'd had little to no luck. "I just hope you're right…"

The pain killers had worn off and the dull ache radiating from the left side of his head and face pulled John from the oblivion that had been sleep. As bored and uneasy as he felt, he would have preferred to go back to that oblivion to be spared of the pain.

With a grunt, John eased himself into a sitting position, wincing as his chest joined in the chorus, singing in time with his head.

The room was much darker than it was before he settled down to sleep, leaving him wondering how long he'd been laying there. It only took him a moment to realise it wasn't just his head that had woke him; the urge to urinate was strong and demanded a speed he wasn't sure he was quite up to yet. Still, he grabbed the robe that was draped over the chair opposite the bed and slowly pulled it on, being sure to put his left arm in first to spare the injured ribs from being aggravated.

The bathroom was thankfully not too far and as he shuffled his way across the landing he could hear voices from below. The entire first floor looked down into a kitchen/dinning area and from his vantage point he could see three people sat around a small table. Without even realising he was doing it, John was committing to memory points of entry into the home. There was an open window right at the bottom of the stairs, and five paces to the left of that was a door that opened out onto a patio, beyond which he could make out a road and a parked truck, which was visible through another window that was another five paces left of the door. The kitchen was small but practical, knifes were on display in a wooden block, pans and pots hung from a metal rack above the centre island of counters. A large stone sink seemed to be bursting with pots that had been used to create the meal and awaiting cleaning, while an old fashioned wood burning stove sat pride of place in the centre of the kitchen, the heat of which could still be felt radiating from it.

Of the three people sat at the table only two of them he recognised. One was Andy, the other her father. The third occupant was a heavily built man, Caucasian with the same shade of brunette hair as Andy. She had mentioned she had brothers; this was likely one of them.

"John," Andy had called up having noticed he was awake and was waving for him to come down. He gave a some what shy smile and pointed to the bathroom door. She got the message and feeling a little on display he shuffled inside, still needing to empty his bladder.

Once he was done, and after washing his hands of course, John headed back out and down the stairs where the McGregor family waited. It seemed in the time it had took him to shuffle his way down, they had completed their meal and Andy was now clearing away the dishes. John's stomach however was very much empty, the lunch time soup had sated him five hours ago, but now it was empty once more. Mr McGregor was busy pouring over some papers that seemed to be receipts, an old hard back ledger book and calculator made up the rest of the clutter on the table. The older man was so focused on the numbers John's entrance had gone unnoticed.

"Take a seat, fella." The man John didn't recognise indicated the fourth seat and once the injured man was sat, only then did the McGregor lad hold out his hand to shake and introduce himself officially. "I'm Daniel, me and my brother Jack found you in the woods yesterday."

"Then it's you I have to thank." They shook hands amicably and while Daniel seemed friendly enough, there was an uncertainty in his eyes, like he didn't trust John just yet, which was understandable.

"Don't sweat it. Andy say's you don't remember who you are?"

John shrugged nonchalantly, the subject was a little embarrassing. "I don't," he met Daniel's eyes before continuing. "I don't suppose there was any clue as to what happened to me out there?"

"Not that I could see." Daniel picked at the last scraps of food on his plate causing John's stomach to growl a little louder. "Me and Jack called out a couple of times, just in case someone was with you but, no one called back. You were hurt pretty bad, we just wanted to get you to Andy alive so she could help you."

"I appreciate that…" John frowned down at his stomach wishing it would shut up, but when Andy set a plate down for him, loaded with chicken and potatoes, it renewed its demands. John smiled his thanks and started to dig in.

"But don't go mistaking our charitable nature as weakness," Daniel said in a low voice so his sister couldn't hear. "You hurt my sister or my pa' and me and my brother, will put you right back out there, six feet under." The threat was very real and John found himself swallowing a little thicker than the food in his mouth demanded.

"Now, Danny," Mr McGregor spoke up, his attention having diverted from the complex numbers and papers to his son. "There's no need for that."

"After all the trouble we've had from Clydesdale's goons, you can hardly blame me for being cautious." Daniel picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth, once again looking at their guest, who for the most part tried to seem as un-goon-like as possible.

"Let's leave talk of Clydesdale from the dinner table, Danny." Mr McGregor asked with a fond smile and John was reminded of someone for a brief moment. The memory was so fleeting it was gone before he realised he should hold on to it and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't summon the memory that had surfaced just a second before. "Let's just, enjoy the food and the company."

"We can't just keep ignoring the problem, pop."

"I'm not ignoring the problem," Mr McGregor stood and walked stiffly towards a cabinet that housed a few glasses and some expensive looking liqueurs. "I would simply prefer to deal with these discussions during office hours." At that he poured himself a generous serving before offering some to John and Daniel, both of which eagerly accepted.

"Well I wish you would 'deal' with the paper work during those hours to, dad." Andy said as she sauntered back into the dinning area, scooping the glass of scotch from John's hand before he had been able to take a sip. Instead she sat with the glass, sipping it occasionally leaving her patient dry. Daniel and Mr McGregor both found this amusing but shrugged their condolences to their would be drinking buddy. "Honestly I'm getting tired of it being at the dinner table."

"Well I just can't seem to get it done back at the yard," McGregor sat back down sighing as he looked down at the array of paper, the numbers having defeated him for now.

"You might if you let me and Jack manage production." The brother and son shook his head and John got the impression this was a conversation that had happened all too often.

"You whipper-snappers just wanna see your old-man retire and fade away, well I'm sorry but I'm not ready to do that just yet."

"That's not it pa'." Father and son were growing more irritable, clearly it was a touchy subject and feeling awkward enough and not wanting the situation to worsen, John spoke up.

"Maybe I can help?" Suddenly all eyes were on him. Daniel, Andy and their father, waited, studying their strange guest, after all, he couldn't even remember his own name, how could he help them? It was a good question, one he found himself struggling to answer. He had been so eager to offer his help; it never once occurred to him that he might not have been able to. "I…uh…" John stammered as he fought with his damaged brain to understand where the impulse to assist had come from. His eyes caught the books that Mr McGregor had been struggling to balance and without hesitating, reached for them. He had merely scanned the page and spotted numerous errors in calculations already. "I think I can help you with this." He muttered and grabbed a nearby pencil, setting to amend the errors.

"Son, if you can balance that book I'll…"

"Done."

"…I'll be glad I didn't finish that sentence."