As sick from the heat as Jean already was and without any chance to cool down she'd gone out to the back and found herself treading through the 100+ degree heat again looking for the A-Team's lead crazy man and their angry mudsucking Sergeant, and making the search with a dog she couldn't stand being around, she was sure of it: the sun must've curdled her brain into cottage cheese.

Every few steps she called out "Paaaaaa!" keeping in character, under her breath she grumbled the entire time, "Hannibal, when I get my hands on you…" With every other step she took she looked down at the ground to make sure she didn't step on anything that would puncture her feet. That's what she did, that's what she always did, when she, Face and Murdock went somewhere, Face looked ahead, Murdock alternated between the sides and the sky, and she watched the ground to make sure they didn't literally walk into anything they'd regret.

The truth was she was grateful for this blind act because with these glasses she could look at people without having to make eye contact with them, at least without them knowing. She didn't like making eye contact with people, not anymore than she had to anyway, sure, the eyes were the window to a person's inside, but windows were two ways, you looked out, and someone else could look in, and there were damn few people who she'd allow that. In any case, when she went somewhere with the Team, it made sense to her that everybody else would be making contact with whoever they met, so she could afford to look elsewhere, and being the shortest person there she took advantage of being able to see things lower down than they ordinarily did; seemed to her most of the time that's where the important details were anyway.

By now she was probably 100 feet from the house at least, and no sign of Hannibal or B.A. yet. Since she didn't think the neighbors could've gotten them that easily, and there was no sign of a struggle anywhere she'd come yet, it just seemed like the earth had opened up and swallowed them whole. She stopped and looked at the ground under her feet. Hmmmm…maybe that's what happened when it got this dry and no rain came.

As Jean resumed walking, she heard Billy barking off somewhere and she turned to see what it was he wanted, but instead she felt the ground fall away beneath her foot and her whole equilibrium was destroyed as she felt herself falling forward, and straight down into a large hole in the ground.

She hit the ground hard and groaned as she tried to pull herself out of the crash position.

"Billy," she grumbled as she slowly got back to her feet, "As soon as I get out of this hole, I'm going to shoot you."

Initially she couldn't tell what on her hurt, the pain seemed to be hit and miss all throughout her body. She tried standing up so she could see how deep the hole was and if she could climb out of it, but her foot didn't want to cooperate and she went down again like a ton of bricks. Now her head really hurt, and she was dizzy, even laying on the ground she felt like she was going to fall, again, so she decided to just lay still and close her eyes for a few minutes as she waited for the feeling to pass. Out in the heat and in her compromised condition, it didn't take long for her to succumb to the heat and fall headlong into a dream. Somewhere she could hear explosions, not like when the A-Team blew stuff up but like in old war movies, old war movies, World War I perhaps. She opened her eyes and sat up just in time before somebody else fell down the hole screaming, and when that person landed she saw it was Murdock.

"What kept you?" she asked casually as she pulled her legs in and rocked onto her back.

"I had a little trip," Murdock answered.

"Hmmm."

They heard somebody else screaming and a second later Face also fell to the bottom and joined them.

"Ten thousand shell holes in the world and everybody's got to come down mine, is that it?" Jean asked cynically as she got to her feet.

"So what does that make you?" Face asked as he rubbed his ankle, "James Cagney?"

"No, it makes me Humphrey Bogart," Jean told him, "And I'd rather be Cagney because he killed Bogey."

"And then got killed himself," Face reminded her.

"Eh," Jean shrugged her shoulders, "Those are the breaks, they can't all be winners, of course that's to be expected in this business. And if I must die I'd rather die on the side of right, if that's even possible anymore."

After that everything went blurry, and then fuzzy, and then blank.

"Alright, so I was wrong," Hannibal said as he and B.A. made their way back to the house, "What else do you want to hear?"

B.A. grunted and parroted Hannibal's earlier comments, "Just see how far this barbwire fencing goes by the brook…then just see how far this back road goes…then just see how far out to that red light goes."

"Well how was I supposed to know the red light was a bus heading to Boston?" Hannibal asked innocently.

"The fact that we couldn't catch up with it should've been a hint. Hannibal, you better start running," B.A. said as he stomped closer towards the Colonel.

Hannibal chuckled as he jogged on ahead of his cranky Sergeant, then stopped when he saw the large hole in the ground up ahead.

"Hey, this wasn't here when we left," he said.

B.A. stopped and also noticed the hole and commented as he put his hands on his sides, "Them sinkholes form quicker and quicker these days."

Hannibal inched along closer to the hole to examine it, and he got close enough he was able to see something down in it…

"Jean!"

But Jean didn't respond, she was half sprawled out and half curled on her side and unresponsive to their presence.

"B.A., get close to the edge," Hannibal said as he sat down by the hole and started to inch his way into the opening, "I'm going down to get her."

"Be careful, Hannibal," B.A. told him, "You' getting too old to play cave dweller."

"Ha-ha," Hannibal replied as he quit pressing against the side of the hole and let gravity take its course and he dropped down beside Jean.

He went over to Jean and turned her onto her back and saw that she was breathing, and also now could hear a guttural whimpering sound making its way past her closed lips. He briefly examined her for any broken bones but didn't find any. Jean's bottom jaw dropped and she started breathing heavily and it sounded like a near hysterical dry sob.

"What's the matter with her, Hannibal?" B.A. asked.

"I don't know," Hannibal said as he put his hands under her and lifted her up, then he did a double take and added, "Ohh."

"What is it?" B.A. asked, unable to see much of anything clearly in the dark hole.

"Looks like she got her foot cut up pretty good," Hannibal answered, and hollered up, "I'm gonna lift her up and you take her."

Easier said than done, on his first try he about dropped her and groaned, "Oomph." He looked down at Jean and told her, "You're getting heavy, kid," and tried again, this time managing to keep her suspended off the ground long enough for B.A. to grab her and pull her up. He grabbed her and lifted her up in his arms and saw that her right foot was covered in blood.

"What'd you get into, mama?" he asked her, knowing he wouldn't get an answer.

Hannibal had started to climb out of the hole himself and just about made it when the dirt underneath his fingers broke loose and he started to fall back in, he let out a surprised yelp as he felt his whole body slip, and then felt his body dangle against the side of the hole, and a pulverizing grip on his hand. He looked up and saw that B.A. had grabbed him and was pulling him up out of the hole.

"I told you you was getting too old to go spelunking," B.A. told him.

Hannibal looked to Jean, who B.A. had laid down on the ground to go help him; by now she was curled on her side again and had both arms wrapped tightly against her stomach, and had her mouth clenched shut but couldn't stop moaning.

"Never mind, come on," Hannibal said as they went over to Jean and got on either side of her and lifted her up off of her bad foot, "We better get her back to the house, heat cramps already set in, heat stroke might not be far off, then we gotta see how bad her foot is."

It was early in the evening and things were starting to cool down slightly. Inside things had cooled down considerably once B.A. was able to take a look at the antique air conditioner that had been buried behind a bunch of weeds that came up waist high on all of them, and get it running again; it only worked to cool half of the house but it was a large improvement over earlier that day. The sun was starting to disappear behind a large row of clouds and emotions were starting to decline along with the temperature. Up in Jean's bedroom she lay on her bed with a cold rag over her eyes, her skin had largely burnt bright pink but she'd since been subjected to a cold washing and was changed into a fresh T-shirt and pair of jean shorts. Her foot was bandaged where she'd cut it on a rock, it had been cleaned out and disinfected and Hannibal had warned her, would be sore to put any weight on for the next few days.

The cooling temperature hadn't done anything to help her mood however, she was miserable and after she'd been allowed to relax in her own room, Murdock had been the only one to gain entrance to see her, and even he felt himself walking on some sharp eggshells with this one.

Jean groaned and pressed her hands against the wet cloth over her eyes and told Murdock, "I don't even want to know what I did…I'm so embarrassed."

Murdock had been teetering between knowing when to talk and when to just listen, he had a hard time keeping his mouth shut but it just seemed like Jean needed to get out what she had to say before he tried to be reassuring. Instead he just barely sat on the edge of the bed and stroked her head. But that one had been the last straw, he had to say something.

"Darling, you ain't done anything you need to be embarrassed about," he said, his southern drawl was there, but his voice was lower, deeper, the more serious Murdock shining through now.

Jean groaned and turned to her side, grumbling, "Broke-down-crying-like-a-baby."

"Jean, by the time you got back here, Hannibal said you were bordering on heat stroke, you were delirious," Murdock explained to her.

"Oh yeah and wasn't that fun?" she asked bitterly as she peeled the rag off, "First I'm getting a case of freezer burn in the groin and armpits…"

Though Murdock knew it wasn't funny, he had trouble maintaining a straight face as he told her, "He told you why he did that, Maggie told him all the core places festering with blood vessels that need to be cooled down to reduce body temperature…"

"And then I'm being dumped into a bathtub full of ice water and I've got these grubby hands pawing over me as he's trying to get my clothes off."

Murdock had an even harder time keeping a straight face at that one, though for different reasons. He hadn't been present for that one, only came in after the fact, and he felt embarrassed for her for that one, even though he understood why it had to be done. She had been unresponsive to most of what was going on at the time and they weren't even sure yet that brain damage hadn't set in from the heat, there was no way Hannibal was going to believe she was capable in that instant of getting herself out of her sopping wet clothes. And he knew that she knew why it had to be done, but he also knew that she was still dealing with what had happened earlier and needed to get it out of her system before she'd start to feel better.

"And what the hell does it say about me if I can't stand a little heat without getting sick like a dog?" she asked.

"Jean, you were out in 105 degree weather for hours," he told her.

"So were you, you hardly even broke a sweat," Jean replied.

"Not the whole time, I came in where it's dark and it's cooler, I didn't go off looking for Hannibal and B.A. when they were two miles down the back road," Murdock said.

"And what about them? They didn't get sick," Jean told him.

Murdock shook his head helplessly as he stood up and said to her, "Jean, do you have any idea how many people drop dead from heat stroke every year, many of them because they didn't know they had it because they weren't aware of how much they'd exposed themselves to the summer heat? You're playing with your life here."

"And you guys don't?" she asked as she got up and sat on her knees on the bed, "What about all those times you're off in Borneo or South America or wherever…where the days are 110 in the shade minimum and the nights never drop below 90?"

"We take a lot of precautions when and where available to make sure we don't succumb to the heat," he explained.

"You who goes parading around in a heavy leather jacket and black T-shirts when everybody else is marinating in their own sweat and you want to talk precautions?" Jean asked.

Murdock shrugged cluelessly and said in a half-joking tone, "I'm a cold blooded person. You," he pointed at her, "On the other hand are a notoriously very hot blooded person, we all know that."

Jean nodded slowly in defeat and replied, "Yes I am, if I had to dress like you for extended periods of time, I'd be dead, I know it…and I can't do anything about it. Just another thing to chalk up to my being different from everyone else in the whole entire planet. And I'll tell you something, Murdock, I get so sick of everything always happening to me. Why is it always me? Oh, I know I shouldn't complain, I should be grateful that it's nothing more serious like cancer or heart disease or paral…" she swallowed the word, "All the same I think I've got more than my fair share of problems, and I'm tired of it, and I doubt I'm the only one."

Murdock swallowed, "You mean us."

Jean nodded.

Murdock groaned as he buried his face in his hands for a moment, he went over to Jean and hugged her tight for a moment and said, grumbling, "Jean, you know I love you, but I gotta ask…what the hell did your parents do to you?"

She pulled back from him, "What?"

"I mean where did this come from? You always think that you have to prove something, that you have to be good enough…it had to come from somewhere, it doesn't just happen," Murdock told her.

"They didn't do anything to me," Jean shook her head, "And it doesn't do any good to ask anyway…everything I was, was before I went to join the Army, and everything I was then, I've also tried to put behind me, so all that's left is what I am now."

For some reason at that moment, Murdock felt a compulsory need to place his hands on the sides of her face and tell her, "I love you, Jean."

They heard footsteps down the hall and knew that they wouldn't have a chance to say anything more before they were interrupted so they left it at that, he let go of her and went over to the dresser by the wall.

Hannibal opened the door and came in carrying a glass and said, "Alright, Jean, time for your water again."

"Ugh," Jean groaned as she tried to move away from him, "No more salt water, Hannibal."

"I'm sorry," he said mockingly, "But Maggie said you need to drink one glass of this every hour until the cramps are gone, need to restore the salt intake you lost being out in the sun."

"Hannibal, if I drink much more of this stuff, I'm going to throw up," she said.

"Then you'll just have to start all over again," he said in his subtle but 'tormenting mean little boy' tone.

Murdock went over to Jean, put a hand on her shoulder and asked her, "You mind if I talk to the Colonel alone for a minute?"

Jean looked at the glass in her hand as she answered, "Go ahead, I need to figure out how I'm going to choke this one down."

The two men stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind them.

"How's she doing?" Hannibal whispered to Murdock.

"That depends on how you want to define it," Murdock told him, "Physically she's coming along alright but…"

"But what?" Hannibal asked.

"Well…she's a little embarrassed about her, little outburst earlier," Murdock explained.

"She remembers?" Hannibal was surprised.

Hannibal had left Murdock in the dark about the little fact that Jean had been crying before they even got her to the house. He'd unfortunately had enough experience over the years to know the difference in hysteria triggered by pain, and by…other circumstances. He knew that Jean hadn't been crying because she was injured in the fall or because she'd cut her heel open; at first he thought it was delirium from the heat, but after the fact he thought back to the large hole in the yard, and it took him back to a discussion he'd had with Jean a while back. A dream she'd had about she and a bunch of soldiers being shot at and falling into a mass grave. And that hole out in the yard, it was a large square hole, intentionally dug so by someone. That memory coupled with the heat, it was understandable why she was in hysterics, if it'd been him in that position he honestly couldn't say if he would've fared much better.

They went back in the bedroom and Jean was sitting on the bed with her head in her hands groaning, she looked up at Hannibal and said, "My head hurts, can I go to sleep now?"

He picked up the glass on the nightstand and saw it was empty. "Do anything you have a mind to, and being a woman you will." He smiled at her, "Are you feeling hungry yet, kid?" and reached a hand over to touch her face and see if it was still warm.

Jean groaned as she lay down, "No, no food, no more salt water…just let me sleep…"

"You want Murdock to stay with you?" Hannibal asked her.

"I don't care," Jean said as she pulled a pillow over her head. A minute later, she pulled her head out from under it and looked to the Colonel heading for the door and said suddenly, "Hannibal…" he turned back to look at her and she said shook her head and grumbled, "I'm sorry about earlier."

He turned towards her and said in response, "It's alright kid, I'm just sorry about the rough treatment we had to put you through earlier, but we wouldn't have done it if it wasn't necessary."

Jean nodded, "I know…"

Hannibal left, Murdock stayed and went back to her bedside, he started to stroke through her hair but she groaned and put a hand up, telling him, "Don't do that, don't touch it…"

"Sorry," he said as he patted her shoulder instead.

A jerking groan escaped Jean as her hand automatically reached to her stomach again, and Murdock set to work once again massaging the cramped area.

Jean sighed and told him, "25 years old and already I'm falling apart…I wonder if…"

"What? You wonder if what?" he asked.

She looked at him and said, "If maybe it'd be better if I just went home and let you guys deal with those nuts next door."

Murdock didn't say anything at first, then he responded, "If that's what you want to do, we won't keep you here."

"Who said anything about what I want?" Jean asked, "I just think it might be better. We've only been here two days and both times something bad happens because I'm here."

Jean turned over on her stomach, Murdock patted her back and said quietly, "Just sleep on it for now, darling, we'll talk later."

Jean groaned and raised a hand to her head, a minute later she was dead to the world again.

"Hector, will you stop laughing?" Hannibal asked as he found himself at the limit of how far the phone cord could stretch into the living room, "Did you know anything about this hole or not?"

Hector, who had been making himself at home in Hannibal's home for the last two days, leaned back in his chair and said, "I'm sorry, Johnny, I guess that one slipped my mind."

"Then you did know about it."

"Know it?" Hector hiccupped, "I dug it."

"Hector," Hannibal replied, "That hole is nearly 7 feet deep."

"I didn't say I dug the whole thing," Hector told him, "I found the hole a while back when I first moved in, it's not like the ones my neighbors have been filling the yard with, so I decided to have a little trap ready for them incase they'd stumble over that area…apparently it worked very well, it just caught the wrong person, I'm sorry, Johnny, I hope your friend wasn't hurt too badly."

"She'll be alright," Hannibal answered, "But Hector, this is one of the weirdest holes I've ever seen."

"Who're you telling?" Hector replied, "I think once upon a time it must've led to a storm cellar or something, can't figure out why else there'd be a square hole in the ground."

"Big one at that," Hannibal added.

"Can't figure it out, though," Hector said, "That old house has to have been there at least as long as I've been alive."

"Hector," Hannibal said, "Is there any chance that something could've been buried there previously?"

"Something…or somebody?" the old man replied.

Hannibal shrugged, "Either I suppose."

"Hmmm…suppose it's possible, but as I said, the hole wasn't that deep originally, when I found it it was only about four and a half feet down…now that's just a little shallow to comfortably put a body, even out in the middle of nowhere. But Johnny, if anything had been in that hole to begin with, and there's nothing there now, why have those hicks next door been bugging me?"

Hannibal scratched the back of his head, "It's a good question…oh well, I guess we'll find out soon. I'll talk to you later, Hector."

"Goodbye, Johnny," Hector hung up the phone and sat back on Hannibal's bed and resumed his visit with old friends. He picked up a framed photograph of Hannibal's mother and said to it, "He's a good boy, Annabel…ya done well with that one."

Hannibal tapped on the door before entering with a tray containing two plates of food on it. Jean was passed out on the bed and Murdock was watching her from where he sat next to it.

"Kept your dinner warm, Captain," he whispered.

"Thanks, Colonel," Murdock replied quietly.

Hannibal set the tray down and asked, "How's she doing?"

"Just slept this whole time," Murdock said.

"Anymore cramps?" he asked.

Murdock shook his head, "No."

"Good."

Hannibal went over to the bed and reached down and patted Jean's head, she moaned softly and turned her head to the side, then woke up.

"What's going on?" she tiredly asked.

"We got that hole filled in so you won't have to worry about stepping in it again," he told her.

"Oh good," Jean turned back over and murmured into the pillows, "Now I just have to have a word with Billy…"

She felt a hand on her shoulder turning her to the front again and she asked, "What?"

"Do you feel like coming downstairs?" he asked.

Jean turned her head and saw Murdock and she asked him, "You've been here all this time?"

"Where else would I be, darling?" he asked lightly.

"Ah…" Jean looked back to Hannibal, "…Yeah, I'll be down in a minute."

"Good," Hannibal replied, and headed out the door.

Jean rolled over and glared at Murdock, "I never asked you to stay."

"You were sick, where else was I supposed to be?" he asked.

"How about downstairs with your unit?" Jean asked as she got up.

Murdock waved it off, "They know what they're doing, and there hasn't been any trouble all day, there hasn't been a sound from the neighbors at all."

"Well we know that can't be a good sign," Jean said. She brushed her hand against her face and realized, "I lost my glasses."

"Broke," Murdock corrected her, "In the fall, you're lucky you didn't get your face cut all to ribbons too."

Jean groaned as she pressed her fingers against the skin around the corners of her eyes and stretched them out, "This day just keeps getting better and better…guess I will be playing Audrey Hepburn now…world champion blind lady."

Murdock picked up the tray and said to her, "Come on, hon, they're waiting for us downstairs."

Jean glanced down at her bandaged foot and grimaced, "Cinderella's ugly stepsister…cut off a piece of my heel, the birds will notice the trail I leave behind."

Murdock's eyes traveled down to look at the same foot, and asked sympathetically, "Hurt much?"

Jean shrugged it off and said, "Long as I don't have to see what's under the bandage, I'll be fine. Not knowing can drive you insane…but knowing, sometimes that's worse." She brushed it off and asked Murdock, "By the way, did they ever find out what the hell that hole was for?"

"Hannibal has a few working theories," Murdock said.

"And you?"

"Well it kind of looked to me like it might've been used to bury something."

"Obviously, but what?"

"Well, in theory it's wide enough to put a body in, but I'm thinking more like a treasure chest."

Jean snorted.

"I mean it…it looks like something you'd see in those 'Yogi Treasure Hunt' cartoons," Murdock said, "Hey! That gives me an idea…you think Hannibal's friend has a guitar around here somewhere?"

"Whatever for?" Jean asked.

"You ever see somebody get 'El Kabong'ed in real life?" Murdock asked her.

Jean shook her head, a small, knowing smirk on her face, "No, always wanted to try it though."

"You guys know I'm the last person to actually want something to happen when we're on a mission," Face told the others as they were gathered in the living room, "But I'm actually hoping that these people do something soon, otherwise I think we're all gonna go fruity from sitting around here looking at each other all the time."

Hannibal paced around by the windows and occasionally glanced out, B.A. leaned against the fireplace, Face was seated in a chair and Murdock and Jean were taking up the couch; Jean was still lethargic and with nothing stimulating to give her cause to stay awake, she rested her head in Murdock's lap and was in the process of falling asleep again. Murdock absently stroked over her head while he looked up at the ceiling.

"They're plotting something, I know it," Hannibal said.

"Yeah, but you still ain't figured out yet what they want with this place," B.A. told him.

And it was obvious that Hannibal was still wracking his brain on the issue. "Must be something…" an idea occurred to him and he turned to his Lieutenant, "Face, can you smell?"

"He always smells," Murdock answered, "Bathes in cologne or something."

"That's not what I meant, Murdock," Hannibal told him.

"Oh."

"Ah…do I want to know why you're asking, Hannibal?" Face asked.

"The air conditioner," Hannibal said, as if it was explanation enough.

Face did a double take, "What about the air conditioner?"

"When you have the air conditioner running, you close all the windows," Hannibal said, "Hector didn't have it running, he probably didn't know how to fix it and he knew nobody would come out here to look at it…"

"I think the isolation out here's finally gotten to him," Face murmured to Murdock, who just nodded in response.

"Face, you come outside with me and we'll see if something's cooking," Hannibal told him.

"Like what?" Face asked as he stood up, "A fried possum or something?"

"Come on, Lieutenant," Hannibal said.

"Alright," Face whined as he followed Hannibal out of the living room.

"Brother," Murdock spoke up after they'd gone, and looked to B.A., "You believe them? Possum in this area?" and shook his head.

Jean tapped his knee and looked up at him, "Ether's got a smell, right?"

"What she talking 'bout?" B.A. asked.

"I don't know," Murdock patted her head and asked her, "Jean, you got those heat cramps coming on again?"

Jean pushed herself up on one hand and looked up at him and told him, "Now you guys know that I grew up in a little town called Rotgut in New York, more country and suburbs than city life…we had neighbors but not like these people, we were all pretty clean cut…but I do remember a few things from the TV shows I used to watch before I left home. I remember in that "Walking Tall" show, them mentioning that ether was used to cook up PCP, made up in bathtubs and sinks…if ether has a smell…"

"Then that could be what Hannibal and Faceman are out there sniffing around for," Murdock said.

"If ether has a smell," Jean said as she sat up, "Wouldn't the whole cocktail have a more potent one?"

Murdock seemed to be half considering it, but still skeptical, and he told her, "Yeah but all available news reports have found the usage of angel dust has dropped significantly over the years."

"Doesn't mean they're not cooking it up," Jean said, "Or something else, if they can cook up one kind of drug in the kitchen sink, they can another can't they?"

"Well…" Murdock considered the possibility.

"And that would explain it," Jean said, "Like Hannibal said, Hector keeps the windows open, he'd be able to smell it, if it's something strong then that's felony territory and the authorities could be brought in, so of course they'd have to get rid of him one way or another, they're not just drunks…"

"But they were fine and sober when they introduced themselves to us," Murdock reminded her, "So if it's true, they may not even be users themselves, just manufacturers and peddlers."

"To who?" B.A. asked, "Ain't nobody else out here, no signs of any excessive back and forth traveling either, so nobody's coming to them."

They heard the front door slam shut and a minute later Hannibal and Face returned to the living room.

"Well, I can smell something out there, but I'm not sure what it is," Face said.

"We need to be able to get over closer to the Bakewell house," Hannibal said.

Murdock burst out laughing, and everybody looked at him like he'd really lost it this time.

"Bakewell," he said, "Bake-well and they're cooking up something. Do you think that was intended to be a pun, Colonel?

"I don't think they're that smart, Murdock," he answered.

If any of them would've been asked to describe the small sound that emanated throughout the lights in the house in the split second before they went out, a best guess would be some kind of miniscule crackle, or hum, but they heard a low pitched sound coming from up above and around the walls just before all the lights went out and the house became pitch dark.

"Are they that smart, Hannibal?" Murdock asked as he and Jean got off of the couch.