It didn't take the trio long to get to the McGregor yard and since it had started to get dark, most of the manual labour had ground to a halt and only a few buildings were lit up. One being the main office, which was conveniently sign-posted.

B.A pulled up and they exited the van under the watchful gaze of two broad shouldered young men. Hannibal scanned the yard as they approached the pair, who seemed to be locking up the yard while a third man, this one much older, exited the office, locking the door behind him. There was no sign of Face.

"Evening," Hannibal called as he lit up a fresh cigar. The two younger men didn't respond, merely watched these new arrivals nervously, as if they were expecting another confrontation. It wasn't hard to blame them for their caution, B.A was very intimidating.

"Evening, fella." It was the older man who spoke as he slowly came down the steps towards Hannibal. They guy was in his early fifties and was sporting a rather painful black eye. "Listen, I just locked up but, if you need some help I can… open up and you can make use of the phone." The offer was genuine, as was the nervousness in the older mans voice and Hannibal shook his head, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.

"No, we're good. You're McGregor? And this here, your yard?"

"Who's asking?" The biggest of the two boys stepped forward, placing himself between Hannibal and the old man.

"The names Hannibal Smith, this is B.A and Howling Mad Murdock." He indicated each member of his team as he spoke.

"Easy, Jack. Not everyone is a scumball like Clydesdale." McGregor stepped forward, not content and not willing to hide behind the younger man, even it meant him taking another beating and Hannibal couldn't help but admire his bravery, not that he was in any danger, but from the way the three men held themselves, they didn't know that.

"Listen to your boss, Jack."

"He's my dad."

"You too?" Hannibal asked the younger of the two broad set boys, who nodded and continued to stand at the ready.

"That's my youngest, Danny." McGregor explained. "Look, I don't want anymore trouble."

"We figured as much," Hannibal plucked the cigar from his mouth and held it in his hand so he could better explain. "That's why we're here."

"What do you mean?" Jack asked, still on edge.

"Clydesdale hired us to come and lean on you nice folks." Both Jack and Danny shared a look but Hannibal continued. "You see, he told us that you guys were giving him a hard time. Sabotaging his yard, stealing fuel deliveries."

"That's bull-shit!" Jack exclaimed.

"I know." Hannibal smiled. "I don't like being lied to. So I'm here to offer you our services, no charge. All expenses will be extracted from Clydesdale's hide."

"Are you serious?" Danny asked obviously not sure what to think.

"The colonel, is always, always serious." Murdock offered, standing casually with his hands in jacket pockets.

"Just who are you guys?"

"We're the A-Team."

It had been a couple of hours since the attack on the yard and during that time, John had managed to walk off most of the anger. The forests surrounding the McGregor's place were tranquil and void of people to distract him as he struggled still to remember who he was, who he might be. He had hope some alone time would aid in his recovery, but it was to much to hope for, he was still none the wiser and still struggling to come to terms with all he had discovered about himself. He was bad news and no matter how good his intentions were, he was terrified he would bring only more trouble into the McGregor's lives. So he had come to the decision to leave.

They had been so kind, saved his life and he wanted nothing more than to repay that kindness, but considering all of the uncertainty and mystery surrounding himself, the last thing he wanted was to being more trouble their way. He had already made things much worse by shooting the thug, now Clydesdale was likely to strike back harder…if he left, they might just be left alone. It was a long shot and a train of thought he couldn't one-hundred percent believe in, but if he stayed he knew for certain, it would only get worse.

So it was with a heavy heart and a heavier conscience that John headed back towards the house. It had gotten dark some time ago and the vintage Armani done little to protect him from the cold creeping into his bones. He ached from head to toe, more so in his chest as the bruised bones continue to protest his refusal to rest and let them heal. He would gather the few possessions he had and say his goodbyes and head off into the sunset.

The winding trail eventually led back to the main road and he was about to step out when a distinctive black van, with a single red stripe sped by, coming to a stop just outside the house. John was still quite well hidden by the trees to be noticed by any of the people getting out, so he stayed there and watched. The attack earlier had left him wary, the McGregor's had been assaulted once and he knew deep down it was only a matter of time before that happened again.

He was questioning his decision to leave when a large black man exited the drivers side. He was well built, putting most of the lumber jacks to shame and was adorned in about twenty different heavy gold chains. Another man came into view having exited along with Mr McGregor and his son Daniel. This guy looked jittery, wearing a blue cap and a leather jacket that was so faded, the picture on the back was almost completely gone.

John felt sick to his stomach as Andy came running from the house but was quickly ushered inside by Mr McGregor, who seemed agitated and John thought he saw why. A third man had come around to the back of the van. He wore a beige jacket with hands covered in black leather gloves. He was chewing on a cigar as he opened the back of the van. From his position, John could see right inside into a hidden compartment. Guns, grenades and enough ammunition to start a war. The white haired stranger seemed to pause as he finished tucking a pistol into the back of his pants, before turning to check the tree-line behind, as if he knew he was being watched.

John had recognised the signs, sensed the mans intent and had slipped further back into the trees, surprising himself with how stealthy he had been. As he moved through the cover of the forest, John couldn't help but feel he had done all this before. He knew how to move, where to put his feet, and when it was safe to strike. He had maundered towards McGregor's old pickup, using it as cover as he exited the trees and waited for the white haired stranger to turn his back once more. Once again John was moving silently, but with a speed he didn't think was possible. He charged into the man, knocking him against the now closed doors of the van before wrapping his arm around the guys neck and applying just enough pressure to force him off balance. The guy was just a little bit taller than John and strong, but John had the element of surprise on his side and he wasn't about to let that opportunity slip away, but as they struggled the younger man knew this wasn't a fight he could win. The stranger hadn't panicked or struggled, unnecessarily wasting precious oxygen and energy as John cut it off at the source by applying greater pressure to the guys throat. He didn't want to hurt him, just wanted him down, but that wasn't going to happen. The stranger pulled back his left arm and dove his elbow directly into Johns chest. The younger man all but yelped as he felt his already bruised ribs give a little more, digging further towards his lungs. Luckily there was no tell-tale snap or crunch of bone, but it hurt all the same.

Stunned and winded by the pain, John had no choice but to let go as his body involuntarily curled up to protect his vulnerable midsection, but in the struggle he had won the pistol the stranger had concealed. Not phased or willing to slow down, the older man turned to throw a powerful right cross hoping to connect with Johns jaw. Thankfully despite his daze, John was able to duck and throw back his own assault on whitey's gut and side, his fist connecting hard with his kidney. Whitey grunted but still didn't go down, instead grabbing John by the shirt, buttons popping open as John was dragged and shoved against the black van. The impact shot through his body, knocking another breath out of his aching lungs. Stars danced before his eyes as he threw the best punch he had into the strangers jaw, catching the corner of his mouth. Whitey's hold on him faded as he staggered with the blow and John followed up with a well placed knee to the older mans face, and down he went. It wasn't much of a victory, especially since John was ready to drop, but he still had an ace to play. Dragging in a few much needed breaths, John aimed the pistol at whitey.

"D-don't even think about getting back up, pal." John warned, the stranger just smiled as he looked up, the corner of his mouth oozing blood.

"Nice, kid. You've been working out." The stranger ignored the warning and got back to his feet, wiping the blood from his jaw, still smiling leaving John more confused than ever.

"Hannibal?" The other two men from the van came running from the house. John turned the pistol on them but they kept coming, like they didn't consider him a threat at all. He'd only taken his eye of this Hannibal guy for a second and he had already been disarmed by the man. He was older, sure, but he didn't move or fight like it. John stepped back, lifting one hand up in submission while his other nursed his left side and the busted ribs there-in. Hannibal seemed confused by the act, looking at John like he was crazy which just made John more nervous.

"John!" A familiar female voice called. John obviously turned as it was he who was being called, but what struck him as odd, was that Hannibal turned also. Andy came running towards him followed by Mr McGregor. "Oh my God, what were you thinking!? You're in no condition to be fighting, let me see…" She was already prying his protective hand from where he clasped it against his side and pulling open what buttons remained of his shirt.

"I-I thought you were in trouble." He explained breathlessly.

"From us?!" the guy in cap seemed dumbfounded by the notion and looked at John in a peculiar way, like he was deeply offended.

"When I saw the guns…and after the attack today at the yard…" All three men were now looking at him like he had something disgusting on his face and he wiped a hand over his jaw self-consciously.

"It's to dark out here," Andy said suddenly making John wince when she tried to feel for any breaks. "Lets get inside were its warm, you're frozen." Her green eyes glared at him accusingly. "How long have you been out here!?"

"I'm fine!" He assured but she wasn't buying it. Continuing to ignore Andy he glared at the three strangers once more and asked, "Just who are you guys? And what's with the arms dealership in the back?"

Hannibal watched as the pretty, young doctor led her patient back inside, the kid complaining the entire way. She acted like most women did around Face, smitten with an irresistible urge to care for him the only way a woman could. The colonel always thought it was part of the kids act, that when he turned on the charm it was only then they fell at his feet. Yet Face, with no clue about who he was, had managed to get this girl to gush all over him.

"I tell ya, I don't know how he does it," Murdock said as he watched the retreating pair head back into the house. "He doesn't even need to try and the skirts are all over him. Must be part of that, feline charm. Did you happen to spot his tail when he was kicking your ass, sir?" Hannibal grinned and shook his head.

"No, captain, I did not. I didn't even realise it was Face until he spoke." The colonel placed the safety back on the pistol before shoving it into the back of his pants. "I didn't even realise he took my piece either…"

"This is crazy," B.A chimed in but kept his voice down so no one inside the house could hear. "What made Face attack you? And why didn't he try to get in contact?"

"Now I know there are times when what I say, don't make no sense but," Murdock paused, as if he expected B.A to interrupt. "I couldn't help but notice that, Facey didn't seem to recognise us."

"I noticed that too." Hannibal stated as the trio headed towards the front door.

"So it got me thinking again that maybe…"

"Oh man, here it comes." B.A groaned, knowing the signs of approaching 'jibber-jabber'.

"This might not be our Face! That man in there could well be, Face's long lost twin brother!" The pilot became more animated as he continued, arms flailing about as he indicated first Face, then the sky above as if it was a miracle. "He's gonna be so happy when we tell him."

"Let's not jump to any assumptions yet, Murdock." Hannibal patted the pilots shoulder and proceeded to enter the McGregor home. "First we need hard evidence, we wouldn't want to get Face's hopes up and find out, we were wrong would we?"

"The voice of wisdom as always, colonel."

Hannibal smiled and turned to assess the scene. The young doctor had Face propped up against one of the kitchen work tops holding a bag of frozen peas over some evil looking bruising around his chest, and right away the colonel wished he could take that first jab back. The discolouration was too large and had already started to fade for Hannibal to be the cause, no; Face had earned that injury days ago. The same could be said for the head injury, the only indication being a grubby gauze, stained with a little blood. Hannibal could just about make out the rest of the gash, visible where Face's hair stuck out. The full extent of the injury became clear as Dr McGregor removed the soiled gauze, ready to redress the wound and right away Hannibal knew what had caused it. It was too long to blunt force and there was minimal trauma to the bone. The bruising was localised to the broken skin only, and taking into account Clydesdale's earlier confession (granted he didn't realised he was giving it), it was clear. This was the shot that was meant to kill their friend.

"Looks like someone really done a number on you, kid." Hannibal stated before chewing the end off a fresh cigar, since the other had been lost during their scuffle.

"That's some keen observation skills you've got, pop." Hannibal couldn't help but smile at that.

"You really have no idea who we are, do you?"

"Should I?" If the colonel hadn't been there to see it in Face's eyes himself, he might not have believed it, but the kid was genuinely asking a genuine question.

"He doesn't even know who he is," the young doctor explained as she finished applying fresh gauze. "My brothers found him in the woods two days ago; what ever happened to him out there has resulted in partial amnesia."

"Just a second," Face gently coaxed Dr McGregor's hands away from his head and approached Hannibal. "Do you guys, know me?" The kid stood, slightly stooped still holding the peas to his side and Hannibal sighed.

"I can tell you how you got that nasty gash. Someone tried to shoot you. But then, you knew that already." He looked to the doctor who nodded nervously. "You thought he was in trouble with the law, which is why you didn't confess when I showed you that picture." The colonel smiled as the girls eyes lit with recognition.

"So you do know me?" Face looked at each of them, desperate to know but Hannibal wasn't so sure telling him everything he wanted to know was the best idea.

"Yeah, we know each other pretty well, kid. But I'm not about to just tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because you need to remember for yourself, Clydesdale tried to shoot you and you need to remember why."

"Why would he shoot me?"

Hannibal grinned. "You tell me."

Night had closed in and the McGregor house was closed off from the elements outside. The first snow of the season was beginning to fall and the temperature had plummeted. Mr McGregor had offered his home to the trio they knew only as the A-Team.

Andy was busy making dinner, the strange man known as Murdock offering his assistance. Apparently he couldn't cook, but figured he could still be of some help to her, since she had three extra mouths to feed.

B.A, the scary looking guy, was outside locking up his van while Hannibal was chatting to Mr McGregor. John could just about hear what was being said from his position on the sofa laid out stretched, as to sit up was too uncomfortable. The peas had completely defrosted by now and Andy collected the bag with a smile before handing it to her assistant chef who added the peas to the pot.

Daniel came in with B.A , both carrying fire wood and the pair worked together to get a fire blazing away in the hearth.

"Here!" John was pulled from his people watching by Murdock who gently placed a new bag of frozen peas against his exposed chest. The injured man felt a little uncomfortable by the closeness of a man he had no memory of, but thanked him all the same, trying not to be too abrupt. It was clear by the expression on the captains face, he had noticed John's irritation. "Ah… hey man, I'm sorry." Murdock began as he sat down on the coffee table opposite. "I keep forgetting. This is all a little strange, isn't it?"

"You could say that."

"More so for you, obviously since you're in a room full of people you don't know, including yourself. And I'm… well I'm being selfish, aren't I? You know cos, all I want is to have my friend back and when I see you I see my friend, but when you see me, you see…some guy who may or may not be crazy."

"I hadn't noticed the crazy." He lied. The guy was clearly crazy and John had no idea what he would do if he felt insulted after all!

"I must be loosing my touch."

Was that a joke?

"So anyway, muchacho, I know what its like to feel alone in a crowded room, so I thought I'd come over and try to make you a little more comfortable."

"How did you plan on doing that?" John asked nervously as Murdock moved from the coffee table to sit on the edge of the sofa.

"Well, I've had a lot of sessions on the sofa…" the captain shuffled a little closer, looking to make himself comfortable.

This doesn't sound good.

"…so I feel I'm more than qualified in my experience to, offer up my services and…"

Oh dear God!

"…listen."

"Huh?!" It was difficult to keep the relief out of his voice.

"Talk to me, what's on your mind?" Murdock sat back, producing a note pad and pencil before putting on a rather convincing German accent and continued. "Let Dr H. M. Murdock help to alleviate your anxieties."

"What anxieties, I don't have any-"

"None-sense! You're stress levels are through the roof, look they left a hole up there." John found himself looking up, having been drawn into the guys reality. It was only when he realised that no hole could have been made did he shake his head as if to clear it.

"Alright, maybe I am a little…stressed out." He conceded seeing Murdock nod and begin to write. "I mean, I have no idea who I am, what I do, in possession of a certain skill set that…maybe belong to the undesirables' of society…"

"And how does that make you feel?"

"Nervous!"

"Why?" Despite the ridiculous accent, he seemed to be serious.

"I don't want to be a…bad person." John finally admitted with a sigh.

"I see…" Dr Murdock seemed to look over his notes and when John didn't say anything else, "Oh sorry are you done?" John rolled his eyes.

This guy's crazy.

"Ok, work with me here."

At least he's dropped the accent…

"You're saying to me, you're scared that, because of the things you can do, you think you're a slimeball? Don't you see the irony in that?" Murdock was now sat forward, smiling down at the injured man. "Lil' brother, if you don't want to be a bad person, if every fibre of your being is repulsed by the idea of bringing misery to others and shame upon your soul then, how on earth can you be anything but good!?"

Ok, maybe he's not crazy after all.

"You…make a good point." John thought it over for a moment. Could it be that simple? Was the fact that he was so conflicted about what moral choices he might have made wrongly, make him a decent human being?

"Listen muchacho," Murdock's hand rested gently on John's shoulder and his voice took on a softer tone. "You've got nothing to worry about." The strange captain smiled before getting up, his large brown eyes a little sad and for the first time John considered the impact of his amnesia on these people who claimed to be his friends. Ever since he'd been told they knew him, and knew him well, he had been a little sceptical, but after seeing that expression on Murdock, he was starting to believe them.

Hannibal spent most of the evening talking to Mr McGregor and Daniel about their current situation and just what they had in terms of equipment and supplies at their yard. He was also trying to find out if they knew of any reason Clydesdale wanted them gone so badly, neither could help much with that.

When dinner was served, the colonel kept talk of work to a minimum, it seemed what everyone needed now was some time to relax. The oldest son, Jack arrived at the house a short time later and pretty soon there were eight people squeezed around the six place dining table.

Andy and Murdock had made enough to feed the entire lumber yard and everyone dug in, even the peas which had been pre-cooked on Face's chest. It was difficult not to refer to the kid by his usual moniker, but Hannibal thought it best that Face discover himself, when his mind was ready too and not before. The last thing the kid needed after such a traumatic experience was to be rushed in his recovery. The mind was a fragile thing, once damaged it seldom recovered, something they all knew well.

After dinner McGregor got out his scotch and offered some to the rest of the room. Everyone except for Face partook, mainly because Andy wouldn't allow him. It was probably for the best since the kid looked ready to drop. The McGregor girl had managed to get Face to take some thing for the pain and half an hour after later, the kid was struggling to stay awake. Andy was doing her best to get Face to admit defeat and head to bed, but she wasn't having much luck. After over ten years of 'handling' Face, Hannibal was something of a pro and stepped in, putting his arm around the younger man and steering him towards the stairs.

"Come along, John." Hannibal soothed, cutting Face off from his self pitty. Suddenly the kid just started to laugh.

"Long John!" He snerked, missing the first step by an inch because of his giggling. "Oops!"

"I'll have what ever you've just had, kid." Hannibal said with a smile before guiding him once more onwards and upwards. It took a few minutes, but thankfully Face was able to make it to the top under his own steam, even if he was a little sparky thanks to the meds.

Hannibal got the lieutenant sat on the bed with little trouble and was about to leave him to settle down when something told him he should stick around. Face was just sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at his feet, deep in thought. Like he was a general figuring how to out smart his enemy. The enemy being, his boots.

"Need a hand, kid?"

"No." Face slurred. "I need…a new set of ribs." Hannibal chuckled softly and put a hand on Face's shoulder.

"Lay back." Face done as he was asked and as the kid lowered back, Hannibal got each booted foot and swung them around, so Face was now laid across the full length of the single bed. "I'll help you with your boots, and you can get some sleep." The colonel said softly as he undone the first set of laces. He thought Face was already out since his breathing was slow and steady but after a minute, he spoke up again.

"Déjà vu…"

"What?"

"You, me…the boots. It's happened before."

Hannibal smiled, this was a good sign. "It has."

"I drank too much…?"

"Just now, or the time before?"

"The time before."

"You did." The first boot was off now and so Hannibal moved on to the second. "Do you remember why?"

"Lesley…" The kid turned away to hide his face, even after all these years that particular wound still hadn't healed. "I wanted to…forget."

"But instead, you ended up telling me all about her."

"I did?"

"Well, I never did catch her name, but I got the idea." With the second boot now off, Hannibal reached down and pulled one of the blankets from under the kid and covered him over. "We all have our own reasons for enlisting."

"Did you ever tell me yours?"

Hannibal paused and thought back for a second. He had, but the kid had been off his face drunk at the time. If it had been any other officer, Face would have been disciplined more harshly, but Hannibal had recognised the signs in Face back then, knew he needed that opportunity to blow off some steam, so had let him. Drank him under the table and when the kid could barely stand, had disclosed his own unique reasons from joining the army, knowing the chances that Face would remember were slim. It made it easier to share.

"I did." He left it at that and he knew the kid would understand by the tone in his voice that now wasn't the time to talk about that, there might never be another time. "Do you remember anything about Clydesdale yet?" A change of subject was in order.

"No… I'm sorry I keep trying but…"

"Don't try. Think about something else for a while."

"As simple as that, huh?"

"I find, the simplest option, is usually the correct one. Get some sleep, kid." Hannibal quietly left as Face muttered his sleepy thanks and the colonel quickly made his way back down the stairs to where B.A and Murdock were waiting for instructions. They looked to their leader, waiting to hear what he had planned.

"Murdock, you and I are going back to Clydesdale, he doesn't know we're on to him and until Face can remember just what it is the slimeball is up to, we need to stay close. B.A, stay here, keep an eye on Face and the McGregor's. Clydesdale's might call down another hit, he see's Face as a threat since he's not dead like he assumed."

"Don't worry Hannibal," The sergeant pounded one of his fists into the opposite palm, psyching himself up. "If any of those suckers show their face, I'll break out my tools and rearrange their features."

"Just don't go spoiling your appetite, big guy." Murdock said as Hannibal smiled.

"That's right, captain. You don't fill up on bread, when you've got fillet steak to dine on." The colonel's smile was infectious, especially when his two companions both understood his metaphor. Clydesdale was about to be flambéed.