Once the A-Team got back to their van, they sped to Jean's house, none of them wanting to admit what could have happened but all of them thinking it, including and perhaps especially Murdock. Murdock tried to reason with himself, there were a dozen possible reasons why nobody had seen Jean and why she wasn't answering the phone, but every time he tried to think of what they were, instead he just started thinking about all the other possibilities and about started hyperventilating.

They finally reached Jean's block and one thing they noticed first was that the car wasn't parked out front, but it wasn't always. The front door hadn't been left open but it wasn't locked either, they went in and started calling her name as they went from room to room, tearing the place apart.

"Jean? Are you in here?" Hannibal found his way to the back pantry and looked at the giant chest freezer.

It was almost too ridiculous to believe, but for a moment he entertained the possibility that she might've been trying to clean out the freezer. He remembered their past conversations about how whenever she tried leaning in to do it, she about fell in, and it made him flash on that old urban myth about the bride who got locked in a trunk during a game on her honeymoon, and years later someone opened it to find her skeleton still wearing the white dress. He threw the lid up and saw Jean wasn't in it, only about $400 worth of frozen groceries; frozen pizzas, expensive meat, blanched and frozen vegetables fresh from the store. He knew those hadn't been there when they left, and he took that as a good sign, obviously she hadn't just run out on them, she had been planning on sticking around.

"Find anything?" he asked B.A. as he joined him out in the living room.

B.A. shook his head, "Nope, no sign of her anywhere."

Hannibal looked around the room and tried to remember what it had looked like when they'd last been here. Jean had been sleeping on the couch, the bedding was long since gone. She'd had Murdock bring down about 20 books and writing materials to keep her occupied while they were gone, those too were also gone now, the coffee table was as cleaned off as the kitchen table had been. He also noted the table for her typewriter was still up but the typewriter wasn't on it now, and he tried to remember where Jean put it when she wasn't using it.

"Check the phones?" Hannibal asked.

"They' all hung up and working," B.A. told him, "Ain't anything wrong with them, when you called, it rang here."

"Hannibal!" they heard Face call as they heard the Lieutenant's footsteps racing down the stairs.

They met Face out in the hall when he was about six steps from the floor, and he grabbed the banister with one hand and it seemed to be the only thing keeping him from toppling over the railing.

"What's going on?" Hannibal asked.

"Jean's nowhere in this house and Murdock's going out of his mind," Face told the other two men.

And given that the man in question was one who prided himself on having accomplished that years ago, they knew that something was wrong. They ran up the stairs after Face and followed him to Jean's bedroom where they found Murdock sitting in the middle of the floor rocking back and forth as he stared at the floor and said lowly to himself, almost in a chant, "This isn't happening now, this can't be happening again…" over and over.

B.A. pushed past the other two and made his way over to the Captain, bent down, wrapped his python arms around the scrawny pilot's waist and pulled him to his feet and told him, "Come on Murdock, get up."

Murdock looked to Hannibal with the clearest 'help me' sad puppy look on his face and he seemed to be struggling with himself not to fall apart as he explained, "Hannibal…I can't go through this again…I can't lose her again."

Hannibal took a step towards him and grabbed Murdock by the shoulder and squeezed it firmly and told him, "Take it easy, Murdock, we can't jump to any conclusions."

And here too, Hannibal could tell as he looked around that something wasn't quite right, and he tried to put his finger on what it was. He hadn't seen the game room but from what parts of the house he had seen, something he'd noticed was that the house wasn't torn up. There was no sign of a struggle, no sign of forced entry, no blood anywhere, that all had to be good. But then what was going on? And then, it seemed to come to him. He had B.A. let go of Murdock and took the Sergeant's place standing behind the Captain, he put his hands on Murdock's shoulders and said to him, "Murdock, take a look around the room, and tell me if anything's missing."

Murdock didn't understand what Hannibal was getting at, but he did look around the room, yes, he knew that Hannibal was right. He couldn't say what, but he could tell from looking around that some things were missing from the room, little things, nothing major, maybe some of the otherwise scattered clothes that hadn't made it to the closet, and a few of the...what, two thousand?, books that were stored in the room, but what did it mean? He did notice also the lid of her trunk seemed emptier compared to when he last saw it, but once again he couldn't pinpoint what was gone, except maybe a couple half eaten candy bars.

"Yeah," he answered, "Yeah, there's some stuff missing, I don't remember what though."

Hannibal went over to the closet and opened the door and looked on the floor. There were some boxes and some half folded blankets, and…a rectangular indention in the carpet.

"What was here, do you remember?" Hannibal asked.

"A s…a suitcase," Murdock said, his eyes widening at that realization.

"And her typewriter's gone too," Hannibal noted, "So we know what didn't happen, Jean hasn't disappeared, and she wasn't kidnapped, she's just run away, but the question is why?"

"And where?" Murdock added.

An idea came to Face, "What about our house?"

Hannibal turned to him, and said, "If she is, then she won't answer the phone out there."

The four men looked to one another as they considered this possibility.

"Let's go," Hannibal said.

Murdock about broke down the front door rushing into the house, and as he entered he called out her name loud enough for people in Salt Lake City to hear. He didn't even wait to hear if there was any answer, he tore off up the stairs, with the others following close behind. Hannibal had to hand it to Jean, if she was here, she was doing a good job of making it look like she wasn't. Her car wasn't parked out front, none of the lights were on, there wasn't any TV blaring, no radio playing, no sign whatsoever that anybody was currently occupying this house.

As if acting on some instinct, Murdock ran down the hall to his room and threw the door open and turned on the lights. If he had a hunch, it paid off because Jean was in the room, in his bed, and the guys noticed, hadn't moved despite all the ruckus.

"Jean!" Murdock exclaimed as he ran over to the bed and jumped on it and landed beside her. He tried to wake her up but she wasn't responsive. She lay on her stomach with her face turned to the side and half buried in his pillow and one arm high up and spread across it, pinning it to the bed.

Hannibal spotted the bottle of pills on the nightstand. He picked it up and it shook like a baby's rattle, "If she took them, it couldn't have been much." He popped the cap off and poured the pills out on the nightstand to count them. Face took the bottle from him and read the label and told him, "It's sleeping pills."

Murdock reached under her and pressed his hand against Jean's chest to feel her heart beating, it was steady. He reached under the covers and pulled up her other hand and felt for the pulse in her wrist. It seemed normal, but he knew he couldn't allow himself to calm down until he knew what the verdict was.

Hannibal finished counting the pills and compared that number with the one on the bottle label and heaved a sigh of relief and told Murdock, "She didn't overdose, only three of them are missing."

Murdock seemed unfazed by this revelation, he lay on the bed alongside Jean and stroked through her hair and watched her while she slept, as if she might disappear if he took his eyes off of her. Hannibal felt the relief wash through him and his legs suddenly felt like jelly, he had to steady himself against the dresser to stay balanced. Face just felt all the color drain from his face and then fall back at full force.

Hannibal heaved in and out a few hard breaths as he tried to regain his composure. Suddenly it all came together and made sense. Jean was a reckless person but not careless, there was a reason why she'd done all this, why she'd packed up without a word and come here of all places.

"She came here for a safe place to sleep," he told the others.

The gravity of those words weighed heavily on the minds of the other three men. Looked at that way, it did make sense. Here was an injured woman, recovering, in pain, losing sleep, in desperate need of rest and recuperation, what match could she be if another set of intruders broke into the house and found her? So, she came to a house where not only would nobody think to look for her, but for the time being as far as anybody knew, it sat empty and unoccupied. And she hadn't left a note to let them know, incase Decker or someone else broke into the house and found it; she hadn't called them to let them know where she was going just incase somebody would have her line or their line tapped. Her loyalty to them ran deeper than most people could even imagine.

Murdock moved over and practically climbed on top of Jean as he wrapped his arms around her waist and closed his eyes. Jean must've made some progress since they last saw her because she didn't make a sound at the weight added on her back.

"Home again," Hannibal murmured half to himself, and to the others he added, "Since the excitement's died down, let's leave these two alone for a while and get everything unpacked."

Slowly, almost hesitantly, one by one they left the room and left the other two behind where they were in the bed. Face was the last one out and before he closed the door behind him he looked back and saw Murdock laying on top of Jean, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other higher up across her shoulders. Through all of it, Jean hadn't moved one muscle to acknowledge that she knew what was going on…ran away to find a safe place to sleep…Face slowly nodded his head as he thought about it, as hard as she was sleeping now, it made perfect sense.

Face came back a couple hours later and found that Murdock had hardly moved from the position he'd last been seen in, and the same also went for Jean. But right now Face wasn't concerned about her. He went over to the bed and shook Murdock to wake him up, but it seemed that the Captain wanted to be stubborn about it.

"Come on, Murdock, dinner's almost ready," he said.

Murdock merely shook his head, refused to even open his eyes, and maintained his tight grip on Jean.

"Come on, Murdock," Face said.

Murdock just shook his head again but otherwise wouldn't move.

"Any luck, Face?" Hannibal asked as he came into the bedroom.

"Nope," Face answered.

Hannibal went over to the bed and said to Murdock, "Let's at least get you ready for bed..." and moved to grab one of Murdock's sneakers to take it off.

Again, Murdock just shook his head and refused to move or be moved. Hannibal and Face looked to each other, Hannibal just shrugged and told the nearly unconscious pilot, "Suit yourself," and pulled the covers up on both of them, and motioned for Face to follow him out of the room, quietly.

"Yeesh," Face said out in the hall, "He's got it bad, hasn't he?"

"What he got, Face, was scared," Hannibal told him, "He didn't want to leave her alone in the first place, he never would've forgiven himself if it turned out to be another Cong Christmas. We all know what we were thinking when we couldn't get her on the phone."

Face nodded slowly. "Well…how long do you think it's going to be before they wake up?"

"The pills Jean took are only supposed to knock her out for a few hours, but if she's been running on empty up to this, it could be morning," Hannibal said, "And Murdock? Fear and terror can be equally exhausting."

"She never takes sleeping pills," Face said, "She's the only person in the entire Hollywood zoning who doesn't even keep a bottle of them in the house."

Hannibal's eyebrows raised slightly when Face told him that, and he responded, "Must be very telling then how desperate she was to sleep."

Face thought about it and found himself nodding again in agreement. He hated to admit it, and he wouldn't admit it, not to them anyway, that while they'd been gone with Stevi, he really hadn't been too worried about what was or might happen to Jean while they were gone. He felt like an idiot for it now, he guessed at the time he just figured she could handle anything that did happen but he hadn't really given much thought to the possibility that something, anything could actually happen. And apparently, fortunately, nothing had, but now after the fact it was so easy to consider everything that could've. And that in mind, he guessed it wasn't any wonder Murdock was acting the way he was.

What he didn't know was that Hannibal was having a few thoughts on the matter as well, slightly different ones however. Hannibal had trained all of his men that if they were going to survive, they had to be far more observant than anyone else, but it was obvious to the Colonel that this was a lesson that the rest of the Team only used when they felt a need for it and in between those instances allowed themselves and their senses and powers of observation to relax. In that bedroom they'd only been focusing on what was plainly in front of them. And what was was an unconscious woman in the bed, a bottle of pills on the table, all seemed very simple. It was simple but still a bit more complicated than Face or B.A. realized. Hannibal had noticed the way Jean had had one arm wrapped around the pillow, had her face buried in it, in Murdock's pillow, and even now she was exactly the same way. This hasn't been a headache, there weren't any pain pills in the room, also usually when Jean slept off a migraine she didn't bother burrowing under the covers. But, one thing that hadn't changed even in their absence was that for whatever reason she came here to sleep, she'd done it in the clothes she'd apparently been wearing that day, even now she wouldn't be caught dead in pajamas because of what it represented to her, which more likely meant that she anticipated having to get up at a moment's notice when she was actually conscious.

There was a reason she'd picked his room out of any other place in the house. And it was probably the same reason why she hadn't responded to Murdock's weight pinning her against the bed. How long had she been alone? He didn't even know, but obviously it was long enough to take its toll on her. She'd come back here as a refuge, one place where she could still pick up his scent and cling to it, fall asleep with the pilot's scent in her nose and making its way to her subconscious, as a second best until he was actually back and in person. Who knew? Even now maybe Jean wasn't even aware they were back, they wouldn't find out until she woke up, whenever that was.

Jean was sore from being on her stomach for so long, no longer asleep but not quite awake yet either, she rolled over, or tried to, halfway to her back she bumped into something behind her on the bed. Nudging it with her knee she realized it was a person, oh brother, she swore if she was in bed with Crowley again…but no, she moved to elbow him and felt something heavy, a leather jacket…that was enough to make her eyes fly open. She turned further onto her side and picked her head up and saw Murdock asleep on the other side of the bed. She couldn't fight back the overwhelming grin that found its way to her face when she saw him.

If Murdock was back then that must've meant the others were back as well. And if that was the case, Jean was sure if the others had known she was up, Hannibal would've had a good laugh at her expense making a joke about Goldilocks, by now they must've found out that every bed in the house had been used previously. She could just hear Hannibal now, mockingly, 'Somebody's been sleeping in my bed', yes but not for long. She hadn't slept anywhere for very long: the couch, Hannibal's bed, the floor, Face's bed, the chair at the table the typewriter was on, even B.A.'s bed with the big dip in it hadn't been comfortable enough to keep her out cold for more than half an hour, an hour maybe.

After what felt like 72 hours but was probably only closer to 50 or so, she realized she couldn't go on. Everything was starting to look like it was in 3D and jump out at her, and everything she heard sounded muffled, like it was coming in through a funnel. Ordinarily she would've been like that far before this point, and she started to consider the possibility that if she didn't stop, and get some sleep soon, then she would die. As exhausted as she had already been when she first showed up, sleep, even a few hours' worth, proved impossible. So in a last resort, she'd retreated to Murdock's room before taking the sleeping pills, hoping that maybe something here would make it easier for her to fall asleep and stay that way; and if it didn't, if something went wrong, if there was a bad reaction to the pills, at least she'd die in the next best place she could possibly be, in Murdock's bed that still smelled like him, that unidentifiable odor that was just him, where she could almost feel his presence. How many days had she been here? Days, days' worth of pounding away on that typewriter, and maybe sleeping for half an hour, an hour at a time, before typing for another two or three, and repeat, morning, noon, and night, the nights especially for some reason. She never turned on the TV since she arrived, she hardly turned on the radio, there had been no interruptions out here, and in the beginning that had been fine, but after a while it started to become maddening.

It was such an effort not to wake Murdock up then and there and revel in his return, but ultimately Jean decided against it. She couldn't see a clock anywhere but she could see out the window and it was pitch out, so she'd guess for somewhere between 2 and 3 in the morning. But what day? That was the real question. She couldn't even remember what time she'd gone to sleep, let alone what day of the week it had been. Another glance at the pilot sleeping beside her, and it occurred to her that it didn't matter, in the morning she could get all those questions answered. For now, she settled back down on the bed beside Murdock and put her arms around him and rested her head against his chest and fell back asleep listening to the repetitive beating of his heart. Ah, now this she'd missed, and she suspected, she would miss it again, if not often, then permanently, so for now she took the comfort in it that she could while she still had it.

The next morning, Jean woke up with a mouth like cotton and downed a whole glass of water before she said a word to anybody, anybody meaning the sudden crowd that was gathered in the bedroom, waiting to hear what had gone on in their absence.

"You said you were going back to work at the studio," Hannibal reminded her.

She kept her gaze towards the floor to start off and nodded slowly and said, "I did at first…proved harder on my back than I thought. And after that…Jason Crowley asked me to help him with the screenplay for his movie…a job doesn't have to pay for it to be work, and all I really cared about was something to keep me busy. I figured I might do better if I got away from my place…I come here, I don't have to put up with the phone ringing, nobody to bug me, it's quiet here, figured it might help with the creative process…"

Hannibal nodded, "Yeah, we saw your typewriter downstairs…exactly what were you on for that little duration?"

"A few cans of coke and a fresh bout of insomnia," Jean answered, "I don't know if Jason will be able to use any of it, but he'll have plenty to sift through." She turned to Face and asked him, "How many sheets of paper come in those printing packs, 500?"

"I guess," he shrugged, "Why, you need to pick one up?"

"I burnt through two of them since I got here," she said, blinking her eyes several times as if she still hadn't gotten any sleep, "I also went through three ribbons."

Hannibal's eyes widened slightly, "Sheesh, kid, I don't think even Stephen King ever had a run like that."

"Good for him then, then he never had to feel like I did yesterday," Jean said as she sat back on the bed, "I don't think I've ever been so tired."

"I'd say that's a safe bet," Face remarked, as he recalled their inability to wake her yesterday.

"I don't even remember most of it," Jean grumbled, "I swear if there's nothing in all of that that Jason can use, I'm going to shoot myself."

Murdock was sitting next to Jean on the bed, after that comment he reached over and pulled her towards him and petted through her hair. She looked to Hannibal, sucked in a heavy breath and added, "There's something else that I haven't told you yet."

Everybody was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Hannibal scratched the side of his nose and commented, "Well you can't be pregnant."

"Maybe just as bad," Jean said, "Decker's been replaced."

It was Face who first managed to come up with something to say, and it was, "With what, a pencil sharpener?"

"I'm serious," Jean said, "I found out that they gave him the boot again, and replaced him with someone else, again."

Hannibal rolled his eyes, "That's Decker for you, he rubs everyone the wrong way."

Jean opened her mouth to respond but decided against it, the joke was too easy.

"So who replaced him?" Face asked.

"A General named 'Bull' Fulbright," Jean answered.

"Ah, the Terror of Toledo," Face said, his overall demeanor seemingly nonchalant, but the widening of his eyes said plenty for him.

She looked up at him and said, "You know him then."

"His reputation precedes him more than anything," Hannibal explained, "And that's the only good thing that can be said about him. And may we presume you've announced your presence during our absence?"

Jean gave a small awkward smile and replied, "Uh, not yet…I've been trying to figure out what approach I wanted to take with this guy." Then she switched, and she was very serious now as she added, "Hannibal, I don't think it'd be a good idea if you guys showed up at the Federal Building this time…"

"Why's that?" he asked.

"I'm not sure, but I think the CIA's infiltrated the Federal Building," Jean said, "I think that they've been keeping tabs on Decker to find you, and now that he's gone I think they're going to continue their surveillance through Fulbright. You've gone up against a lot of people before, but when did you ever go up against the CIA?"

"It is a fair question, Hannibal," Murdock said, "We've tangled with many different varieties of rats but we never got in it with the Agency before."

"A rat's a rat, Murdock," Hannibal insisted, "All it means is we need to try a different kind of cheese."

"Well I think the first thing we have to do is find out if it actually is the CIA and Jean's not just going paranoid on us," Face said, "Of course the question is how do we find out?"

"They read minds," Murdock said.

"Shut up, Murdock," B.A. told him, "We got enough trouble without your usual crazy jibber jabber."

"B.A., I know what I'm talking about," Murdock started to say.

B.A. grabbed Murdock by his jacket and did it with enough force he lifted the pilot off the ground and said threateningly, "Yeah like the times you talk about your invisible dog that ain't there and your crazy bug friends, and cutting up bed sheets, and Bigfoot!"

Murdock tried responding but all that came out was a garbled choke.

"B.A., put him down and let go of him," Hannibal said calmly.

B.A. complied, but added as Murdock was gasping for air, "This serious, fool, we don't need none of your insane jibber jabber making it worse, you got that?"

Murdock didn't so much nod as B.A. throttled him so his head bobbed up and down on its own accord. As soon as B.A. let go of him, Murdock said again, "B.A., I know what I'm talking about, they do read minds," he went to seek refuge behind Hannibal so the mudsucker couldn't chase after him and he grabbed two handfuls of the safari jacket and said to the Colonel, "You believe me, don't you, Hannibal?"

Hannibal craned his neck to see Murdock and he shrugged as he told the Captain, "I confess this is out of my area of expertise. I'm a virgin in this territory."

Jean passed by and commented with a snort, "I find it hard to believe you're a virgin in any territory."

"Ha-ha-ha," Hannibal dryly remarked.

"Hannibal, they do read minds, I know it," Murdock told him.

"Well that's all good and well, Murdock, but the fact remains how are we going to find this guy to find out?" Face asked.

Hannibal didn't seem bothered by this question at all as he nonchalantly told Face, "It can be done. All we have to do is put a spy on their spook."

"Who?" Face asked.

"I know Hannibal's a master of disguise, I guess if anyone can pull it off, he can," Jean said to Murdock as they stood on opposite sides of his bed slipping on the recently washed and dried sheets, "But I got a bad feeling about him going in to find out what's going on."

"Hannibal knows what he's doing," Murdock said, "If he can fool Decker into thinking he's an old man that fought in World War I, I have every confidence that the Colonel can come through now as well."

"I know it," Jean said, "I just wish I felt better about it."

Murdock thought of something and asked Jean, "Incidentally, how did you find out about Fulbright?"

"V.C. told me," Jean answered, "She's got a job cleaning the good general's house once a week."

"Fulbright?"

"No, General Bullen, Decker's former commander," Jean answered, "She found out about the General being brought in on this assignment."

"Bullen?" Murdock asked.

"No, Fulbright," Jean said, "Sheesh, a general working for a general, what're the odds?"

"How do you figure the CIA's involved in this?" Murdock asked.

"I've been paying Decker a few visits lately before he got the boot," Jean said, "And there's always this same guy at the Federal Building, he looks like an MP, he stands around with the MPs, he acts like an MP, he's not an MP."

"Boy they need to hire new help if it's that obvious," Murdock noted.

"Anyway, Decker wasn't aware of the plant," Jean told him, "I think the CIA is trying to find the A-Team and they're doing it through the Army."

"Jean, even I can appreciate how crazy that sounds," Murdock said.

"But does that make it wrong?" she pointed out.

"Nope," he shook his head without missing a beat.

"I wish you guys hadn't come home so early," Jean said, "As long as you were gone, I knew you were safe, this guy Fulbright could actually be competent, he might find you guys, I was hoping to get him the hell out and get Decker reinstated before that happened."

"Well there's an easy answer to that," Murdock told her, "We'll just lay low for a few days…of course it's easier said than done for some of us more than others."

"You mean B.A.," Jean said.

"The one and only angry mudsucker, he can't lay low, he's like a walking billboard," Murdock replied, "If he sets one foot outside he sticks out like a sore thumb."

"Sore thumb nothing, he sticks out like a drunk at a Baptist revival," Jean commented, "He's all but a giant walking neon sign." The moment passed and she was serious again as she told him, "I'm worried, Murdock."

"Why is it you worry about us going into stuff like this and never yourself?" Murdock asked, "You know you can get into a lot worse trouble than we can."

"How? I'm not a fugitive, I'm not wanted by the government," she replied, and kicked the bedstead loudly, "Murdock…I've got one more shot at getting a pardon for the guys, I don't know if it's going to work, and if it doesn't, I think I'm going to lose my mind."

Murdock turned and looked at her suspiciously, "What do you mean?"

"The president shot down my request for a full pardon, he denied me, can he refuse one Colonel and two Generals?"

Murdock got a confused look on his face and he told her, "I'm not sure what you mean."

"No you wouldn't," she said, more to herself than to him, "I had V.C. and L.Z. pull a couple more favors for our side…while we were in Decker's office when it was Decker's office, I stole some of the stationary from his desk, I had V.C. do the same from Bullen's house, and Tommy managed to sneak into Fulbright's office and do the exact same, and we managed to secure three perfect signatures of theirs. Now, if Colonel Roderick Decker, and General Fulbright and General Bullen, all of the United States Army, the same United States Army that arrested and locked up the A-Team in the first place, wrote the President of the United States asking for them to be pardoned, because the Army has already wasted enough time and resources over the past 15 years trying to catch the A-Team, and failed every time, all the while they go all over the world saving lives and helping people…can the president say no to that? Can he turn down Uncle Sam?"

"I don't know," Murdock shrugged, "Might be a lot harder though."

"If it doesn't work…what do I do then?" Jean asked, sounding as helpless as he felt the day before. He didn't know how to answer.

A minute of silence passed between them before he finally said to her, "Don't worry about it, don't think about it right now."

"How can I help it?" Jean asked, "I could have the perfect answer at my fingertips…but what if I'm wrong?"

"Look…just…don't rush anything," Murdock told her, "We'll get through this first and then you can worry about that."

"Lot of good it'll do me if Decker or Bullen or this Fulbright gets killed before I can get the letters written and sent out," Jean said.

Murdock had turned to head for the door but at that comment, he spun back around and asked her, "Why do you say that?"

Jean just shrugged and replied, "I don't know, just an occupational hazard that comes with the territory I suppose. You guys always put your lives on the line, you think the same can't be said for the jerks chasing after you? How many times have those stupid MPs walked away from all those car crashes and helicopter crashes, and for that matter how did they walk away from all of them unscathed?"

Now it was Murdock's turn to shrug as he replied, "Beats me. Look Jean, let's talk about something else."

"Okay," she said nonchalantly, and asked him, "So what was Stevi Faith like?", clearly intending it to be a worse and more uncomfortable topic to bring up.

Murdock just smiled a little as he told her, "Oh you know how rock stars are, 'Where's my Perrier?' 'Draw me a bath', 'shut the curtains, it's too early in the morning to be that bright', 'I want my water at room temperature, too hot! Too cold! I've never been in a room this temperature before!', complain-complain."

"Uh huh, I'll just bet," Jean replied.