The next few days passed slowly, and for some, excruciatingly. Jean had finally returned home but now spent most of the day sitting at the table staring at her typewriter or up at the ceiling as she leaned back in her chair, whatever spark of inspiration she'd been running on previously had flickered and died out now, and she was still waiting to hear back from Jason if any of what she wrote was even usable for what he wanted. Murdock had gone back with her to keep an eye on her while she still recovered from her injuries. She'd already made enough progress that she could get around about as well as she had before the accident, but she was going to be tattooed blue and purple for a long time still.

As the days passed, everybody felt they were walking on eggshells since Hannibal had gone full speed ahead into his plan of going into the Federal Building through the front door as usual to figure out what was going on with Fulbright and the MPs and the plant hiding among them. Unlike his usual front door approaches, this time he'd made it clear he was going alone, nobody was to try following him onto the premises. It didn't sit well with anyone else because even though Hannibal liked to shrug off any questions of 'what if?', they all knew that the possibility was always there, and then where would they be?

"What if they find out, Murdock?" she asked for the umpteenth time in the last few days, "What're we going to do then? How are we going to know?"

That was about the only topic of discussion between them anymore, and Murdock couldn't say he blamed her. He wondered a lot of the same things, unfortunately he didn't have anyone to ask them to. So when she did, he had to do his best to come off as reassuring that Hannibal knew what he was doing, he'd never be caught, and everything would work out.

"I still don't like it," she shook her head, "I should've gone with him."

"He never would've allowed it," Murdock reminded her.

"So when have I ever asked for his permission?" she asked, "I should be there."

"Jean, as much time as you've spent at the Federal Building, somebody would recognize you, and then where would you be?" he pointed out.

"Not me," she shook her head, "I took precautions when I went to see Decker, I only went at night, I stayed in the shadows as much as possible and I made sure nobody would recognize me."

He looked at her oddly and asked, "How'd you do that?"

Jean scratched a spot over her ear and merely replied in a borderline singsong tone, "You'd never believe it." She rapped her knuckles against the typewriter and the table a couple times before hitting it harder and she added, "I should be there, Murdock…if anything happens to Hannibal I'll never forgive myself."

"You're not responsible for him," he told her as he seated himself on the edge of her table.

"I know it, but I can't help it," she shook her head, "It seems that I've become responsible for you four loony tunes somehow over time. You're the most obvious one, but Hannibal…" she closed her eyes and shook her head again, and added, so quietly Murdock could hardly even hear her, and it was obvious she was talking to herself instead of him, "I can't do it, if anything happens to him I just can't do it…"

"Jean, Hannibal is not doing anything now that he hasn't done plenty of times before," Murdock told her.

"But he's older now, Murdock," Jean said, "How long is he going to be able to keep it up?" She propped the side of her head against her fist and pressed her elbow to the table as she added, "We're all getting older…where's this all going to end?"

"You're thinking about the pardons again," Murdock said.

Jean nodded reluctantly, "What if I fail, Murdock? What if this doesn't work either? I'm running out of ideas…I might even…" she didn't finish the thought and instead pressed a hand to her mouth, as if it was too terrible to give voice to.

"You put me on any plane, you send me to any foreign country, you tell me who to kill, it's done…no questions asked, no witnesses. Just the typical American military, covering all its own bases, watching each other's backs and all that, to hell with anybody over there and what happens to them or what the end result is and how it affects us so long as everybody here is accounted for and keeping their noses clean where the public and the authorities are concerned, isn't that right?"

Had she really made that offer to Decker, or had it only been a dream? Anymore she couldn't tell. Would it even do any good if she had? If Decker was still in a position to do anything she might even consider it, but she'd be damned if she was going to make the same proposition to Fulbright. There had to be some way to…a light bulb went off.

"Okay," Jean said to Murdock, "Maybe I can't be there, but there's nothing saying Fulbright has to either, is there?"

"What're you talking about?" he asked.

"Call in another false sighting, like we used to do with Decker," she explained, "It'll get Fulbright and most of the MPs out of there and Hannibal will be safer for the time being and still able to snoop around."

Murdock looked amused, "Sounds like a good idea, and I'll be very happy to place the call myself."

He had turned to head for the door to call from a payphone so the number couldn't be traced, but at that same moment, Jean jumped up from the table and called to him.

"We're a couple of idiots, Murdock, you know that?" she asked, "We forgot something, we've got an ace in the hole, and Hannibal's got to know it."

Murdock was about to ask what it was, and the answer came to him, "Crane."

Jean nodded, "They got rid of Decker for his incompetence, but all Crane has to do is drive the car and be the general's yes-man, his position is still secure. He could help us, because I'll just bet you he's none too happy about getting stuck with that jackass."

"Bull," Murdock corrected her.

"Whatever," she replied.

Hannibal hadn't called to tell Jean he was going to stop at her house, it was nearly midnight by the time he got there, the house was dark, he was sure everyone was asleep anyway. The door wasn't locked, a bit surprising given where they lived but not too surprising given who lived there. Jean didn't worry about random burglars or home intruders, and he had to admit there seemed to be good reason, so far the only people who came busting into this house to give her trouble only did it because they were connected somehow with the A-Team. On her own merit she couldn't scrounge up anybody dumb enough to break into her house, because everybody knew what she was like.

Yesterday he'd gone in as a general, today he'd gone in as a janitor, and tomorrow he was contemplating getting in as a telephone repair man, it seemed only natural after he tampered with several of the phones in the building during his janitorial rounds, Fulbright's included. So far so good, nobody suspected anything, of course he'd yet to make an up close and personal appearance for the General's sake, but he felt confident that he could work his actor magic on the dumb Bull as well.

Hannibal didn't bother turning on any of the lights, he knew how to make his way from the front door to the couch in the dark. Piece by piece he started to shed his disguise, and finally flopped down on the couch to get his work boots off.

"Get off me!" a voice grumbled from behind him.

It was sudden enough it about knocked Hannibal out of his skin, and he jumped off the couch and turned around to see who it was. Peering out from the top of an old blanket was Jean, who he guessed had to have been in a dead sleep because she couldn't even get her eyes open halfway.

"Jean?"

"Yeah it's me," she grumbled tiredly, "What do you want?"

Hannibal looked at her, then looked to the ceiling as if he was trying to see up to her bedroom, and he asked her, "Where's Murdock?"

"In bed upstairs," she answered as she turned onto her side.

Hannibal looked back to her and said in a shocked tone, "Now don't tell me that Murdock kicked you out of bed!"

"Okay, he didn't," Jean said before collapsing against the pillows again.

Hannibal went over to the couch and hovered over Jean as he asked her, "What're you doing down here?"

"I might talk in my sleep, I didn't want Murdock to know what I was thinking," she said, "How'd it go with Fulbright?"

"Well, you were right about something," Hannibal said, "There's definitely someone there who doesn't belong, but I haven't figured out yet what the gag is. Incidentally what makes you think it's the CIA?"

"It's not something I can really explain," Jean told him, "It's just a hunch. Believe me I wish I was wrong, but I'm worried that I'm not."

"Well," Hannibal looked down at her, "I don't want you worrying about this, whatever's going on, we're going to find out what it is and we're going to eliminate the pests involved."

"I hope you're right, Hannibal," she replied.

A brief pause passed between them before she felt Hannibal poking her in the nose and he added, "And I'm warning you, if I even suspect you're going behind my back at the Federal Building to cover me, I'm…"

"You'll what?" she asked, humoring him.

"I'm going to take you over my knee and tan your hide until you look like a piece of worn leather," he answered.

"Oh really?" she asked, a self assured smirk on her face, "That the way you treat women?"

Hannibal smirked in response, knowing she'd appreciate the borderline chauvinistic attitude, "Only the ones who are asking for it."

Jean's only response was to fall back against the couch laughing softly.

"You mind if I crash here for the night?" Hannibal asked.

"Have I ever?" she replied, "You know where your room is."

"Thanks, kid," Hannibal leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, "Now what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You staying down here all night?"

"Might as well," Jean said, "I'd like to get some sleep, you know what Murdock's been doing lately? Wakes me up at 4-5 in the morning, when he knows I don't have to get up early being out of work currently."

Hannibal felt his eyebrows furrowing together, "Why does he do that?"

Jean gave a weak little smile as she explained, "Says he likes waking up with me, and when it's early then we can go back to bed together, says he likes that too…which I guess I can see his point, but I need to sleep, I don't need a 4 A.M. wakeup call just to go back to bed five minutes later."

Hannibal chuckled lightly and pulled the covers up on Jean and told her, "Good night, kid, and good luck," and went to creep up the stairs to his room.

The next morning Hannibal was the last one up and came down to the kitchen to see Jean and Murdock had already eaten, and Jean was in the process of mopping the floor. He also noticed that they were both barefoot, not that it was anything new for Jean, but it was rare to catch Murdock out of his black Chuck Taylors.

"Freon must be low on this air conditioner now," Jean was saying, "I turned it down and it ain't done one bit of good."

Hannibal pulled a cigar out of his pocket and lit it as he grumbled over it, "I'll take a look at it before I leave, if I find anything wrong I'll have B.A. come over and try his luck with it."

"Somebody better," Jean said, "Every time we cook, this kitchen gets up to 95 degrees when the air's not running. Oh…" she turned to Murdock, "That reminds me, I've got to get the pool cleaned out and fill it up again, it went to hell while I've been laid up on that couch."

"To empty that thing out and refill it completely?" Hannibal said, "That'll take the better part of a day."

"Yeah well it better not take too long or else I'm going to be walking around this house naked," Jean told him, and leered at him as she added, "Trust me, that's not going to be a pretty picture."

"I'll take your word for it," Hannibal said.

"You forget you don't have to, you already saw it," she told him, "Remember that bit we did at your friend Hector's place? Remember the ice bath?"

Hannibal shook his head looking a bit like the cat that swallowed the canary as he insisted, "I didn't see a thing."

"Oh no," Jean cynically replied as she shook her head to match her tone.

Hannibal checked his watch and announced, "I have to get back to the Federal Building." He turned around and saw Jean was about to crash into him and Murdock into her, he stuck his finger in her face and told her, "And don't even think of following me."

"Of course not," she said in the same tone, "You have my word, I wouldn't dream of it."

Hannibal glared at her as if he didn't believe her, but he left, and immediately after he did, Jean brought her hand out from behind her back and said nonchalantly, "Oh look at that, had my fingers crossed."

Murdock grabbed her around the shoulders and pulled her back at the first sign of her making for the door.

Face had one hand balled up and stuffed down in his jacket pocket as he and B.A. walked up the sidewalk to Jean's house.

"I don't know, B.A., Hannibal just said to come over and keep an eye on everything and make sure they didn't try anything funny," he said.

"It'd be too late for that," B.A. replied, "If anything that crazy fool ever did was funny."

"Oh come on, B.A., you're not being fair," Face said.

"Yes I am, I know that crazy fool Murdock, I've known him for 15 years, I know what he's like and he ain't ever done anything funny in all that time, only crazy."

"Oh I think you're being too hard on him," Face said, "Murdock's the sort of guy who marches along to his own drum."

"Uh huh, the one in his head," B.A. snorted.

"Nonetheless," Face continued as they got up to the porch, "He's a perfectly reliable, trustworthy, stable…"

The sounds of high pitched whoops and howls emanated from somewhere off in the house and came through the front door.

"Functioning nut bar," Face finished as they looked to each other for a second before opening the door and heading in to see what was going on. "Murdock?"

They heard the noises again, and Face was immediately starting to worry that they'd picked a bad time to come in, and it seemed he may have been right when he saw what it was, was Murdock and Jean chasing each other around the house, screaming and howling like a couple of banshees as they alternated between hunter and hunted.

"You was saying, Faceman?" B.A. turned to him and glared.

Face shrugged and started to say, "Well…" but couldn't come up with anything.

In the kitchen, Murdock had presumed the role of hunter and was chasing Jean around the table, about the third go around he turned around and went back the other way and about crashed into her, in the process he kicked the bucket of water Jean had been using to mop the floor with and it spilt all over, as they ran around again, this time their bare feet made a connection with the water on the otherwise smooth floor and they both went slipping. Jean let out a different kind of scream as she slid across the floor before she and Murdock both came to a crashing halt, him on top of her, and her with her face pressed against the tiled floor. That was when B.A. and Face came running.

"Murdock," Jean groaned as she lifted her head up to look back at him, "Next week we-wear-shoes."

"Are you guys alright?" Face asked as he came up to them.

They were both groaning as they grabbed at various parts of their bodies, trying to assess the damage. Murdock moved off of Jean and looked up at Face and answered, "I'm alright, Faceman."

Jean had her hand pressed against her left arm as she rolled onto her side and looked up at the other two men. She didn't even bother answering how she was. Face helped Murdock get to his feet and B.A. helped Jean get up.

"And what," she said to them, "Are you doing here at 9:30 in the morning? I know you're not here on a social call."

"What makes you so sure about that?" Face asked.

Jean pointed to B.A. and asked, "When's he ever been social?"

"Are we interrupting anything?" Face asked, ignoring her question completely.

"You're always interrupting something," Jean replied dismissively, "What's the occasion this time?"

Face folded his arms to his chest and remarked, "Would you believe we need your help?"

"Whose help?" they both asked.

"Amy called," Face explained, "She thinks that she's found a new potential client for us but she's not sure if it's legitimate. She asked that somebody come with her while she looks into it."

"There are three of you here," Jean said, "How many somebodies does she need?"

"You know what they say," Face remarked, "Besides, it might help having a second woman along, you can stay close to Amy and we'll cover you."

Jean looked to Murdock suspiciously and said, "I got a bad feeling about this, do you?"

"Yeah," he answered.

"But I don't suppose we have any choice, do we?" Jean asked.

"Nope, probably not," Murdock answered.

Face flinched as he felt the large bump that had developed over one eyebrow. He opened his eyes and found himself laying on the floor in a dim room with no lighting and everything suddenly came back to him.

"And here I'd thought the worst thing that was going to happen today was we weren't going to get the AC fixed," Jean said with a flinch as she touched the black eye she'd received. She tried moving her head back to look, but instead settled for calling out, "You alright, Murdock?"

Murdock was trying to uncurl himself from the ball he'd found himself in and was also trying to get one hand to form a fist, but his fingers hurt too much. "I'm fine," he answered.

"You alright, Amy?" Jean called out weakly.

There wasn't an answer.

"Amy?" Jean forced her voice to go up a notch, but it still didn't amount to much.

Face's eyes opened wider and he rolled onto his side to look around the enclosed room they were in. Amy was huddled over in the corner by herself, her head down, her knees drawn up to her chest, not a sound audible from her side.

"Amy?" Murdock got to his knees and crawled over towards her, "You alright, chica?"

As he neared her he noticed she didn't move, he got close enough to touch her and when he did, her head tilted to the side and he heard the low sound of her breathing and saw her chest rising and dropping softly.

"She's asleep," Face said in disbelief.

"Lucky her," Jean said as she tried getting up, "You don't know you're in pain if you can actually sleep."

Face was able to get a better look at their surroundings now and he asked, "Where are we?"

"Who knows?" Jean asked as she turned over onto her knees and stomach, "It don't look like any prison cell I've ever seen, and it's too clean to be a tool shed…maybe it's a vacant bedroom or something."

"Or something," Face almost laughed.

"It's not hot in here, that's one thing…so either we're in a place that has air conditioning, or we're underground, like in a basement. How did we even get here?" Jean asked, "That's the better question."

"They made us, that's how," Face said.

"Yeah, but who are they?" Jean wanted to know.

"That one, I couldn't say," Face replied.

"Murdock," Jean called over, "How is she?"

"A little banged up but she'll live," he announced.

Jean looked to Face and commented, "Might not be so much sleep as it is escape. Escape from herself."

"What're you talking about?" Face asked as he sat up and groaned.

"She got us into this," Jean said, "She asked us to come along and help, I'm not saying it's her fault but you can be sure that's what's going through her mind. How many times has she come through on real clients without this happening? To slip up like this, I'll just bet she's kicking herself subconsciously."

Face looked back at Amy and noted she didn't seem to be sleeping peacefully and couldn't tell if it was due to her injuries or not, and he noted, "Maybe…hey," he realized something else and looked around, "Where's B.A.?"

"They couldn't throw him in this place, he's too fat for that, their spines would collapse just from trying," Jean said, "He must've gotten away."

"Good for him," Face grumbled, "I hope he can figure out where we are."

"Too bad he ain't here though," Jean said, "You could do the disappearing pilot trick Hannibal was telling me about."

"The what?" Face asked.

Over on the other side of the room, Murdock was trying to get Amy to wake up and she finally seemed to be coming around. Her whole face scrunched up in pain and she put her hands on the sides of her head and asked, "What happened?"

Jean managed to sit up and she said to Amy, "Remember you wanted us to come with you to meet this potential client just incase it would be a trap?"

"Yeah…"

"It was a trap," she said simply.

Amy groaned though it didn't sound like it was from any pain she was feeling, rather from disappointment in herself for getting them into this situation.

"Hey, it could've happened to any of us," Murdock tried to assure her.

"That's true," Face said, "Hannibal's got a good track record of getting us…"

"Shut up, Face," Jean calmly told him, "Last thing she needs right now is one of your motivational pep talks."

Amy felt along her face and neck to try and get an idea of how badly she'd been banged up during the fight. Most of it was just a blur by now and she could hardly remember anything.

"So what happens now?" she asked.

"We wait here until either Hannibal and B.A. find out where we are, or until whoever put us here comes in to announce his plans for us," Face answered, "Pretty simple stuff really."

"Who was it anyway?" Jean asked, "Anybody we know?"

"I'm not sure," Murdock said, "It all happened so fast…"

"Yeah but they have to know who we are or they wouldn't have done it," Face pointed out.

"Oh let's see," Jean laid back down and intertwined her fingers and said sarcastically, "Who could possibly want to harm you?"

"Not funny," Face said.

"Good, it wasn't meant to be," she replied, "Let me guess, if Hannibal was here we'd be getting the 'accept death' speech, right?"

"Could be," Face answered.

Amy groaned again and asked, "You mean it could be like Jamestown?"

"We don't even know where we are, it could be worse than Jamestown," Face told her.

"There you go cheering everybody up again," Jean cynically noted.

Amy looked around the room and asked, "How long do you think we'll be here?"

Jean looked back towards the other woman and said out of nowhere, "Hey Amy, were you ever a history major in college?"

Amy didn't understand what that had to do with anything, but she answered, "No."

"Well, I never went to college, but if there's anything I've learned," Jean said as she turned over again to see the others right side up, "It's that history puts things in perspective. Now, what we're looking at right now seems like a pretty bad situation, but it ain't got nothing on the Black Hole of Calcutta."

"What's that?" Amy asked.

"It was a dungeon cell that was 18 feet by 14 feet," she answered.

"That sounds big compared to most jail cells," Amy said.

"Sure, you'd think so," Jean replied, "But not when you consider the fact that it wasn't built to hold 1 or 2 or 5 people, it held near 150, most of whom were unavoidably crushed and suffocated to death because there's just no way to store that many people in a space that small. 140-something men, and one 16 year old bride from India, her husband died that night, she lived just to be sold into a harem. The heat was sweltering all night, men couldn't breathe, and they had no water or food."

"So how'd she survive?" Amy asked.

"It's to my understanding that the people in India have amazing mental capacities to remain calm even in times of crisis," Jean said, "Sort of like how rattlesnakes kill a lot of white men, but they seldom bothered the American Indians, white men fear the rattlers, to the Indians, they were equals, and the snakes knew it, they knew who regarded them with the same basic respect of any other living creature, and who wanted only to kill them. Kind of like how a dog can smell fear on you."

"Yeah but Jean, what's the point?" Face asked.

"Well in addition to people dying from the heat, dehydration, lack of oxygen and being trampled to death, there was a window in the cell that should've brought air in, except the window was built in the opposite side of the building from where the wind blew. So no breeze, only guards who liked to antagonize the prisoners by bringing a little bit of water and watching as they fought each other to the death over it, little over 20 people actually lived till the next morning and they had to make it sucking the sweat out of their shirts, even once they did get the water it didn't do them any good. So…I'd say this room is a little smaller than that, but at least there's only four of us, the temperature's relatively low, and we haven't been here long, we could be a hell of a lot worse off."

"But you didn't want me cheering her up," Face dryly remarked.

Jean just shrugged and said, "The mind is a very powerful thing, you can think yourself into almost anything, people have died because they thought they were freezing to death when they weren't. So, if you know others have survived far worse, it helps you bear through until further notice."

There was a brief silence, then Murdock asked her, "Is that how you survived the freezer?"

Jean was quiet for a few seconds, then she shrugged and said, "Well…I tried."

A lot of times when the A-Team was temporarily captured, or otherwise facing trouble in some way, something that could be counted on was that Hannibal and Face would be singing 'You are my Sunshine', nobody really knew why, but over time it had just become an established fact. Jean's own theory was it was a minor insanity defense, after all, why would someone who'd just been caught be singing unless they were crazy? It sounded like a good enough answer to everyone else, but ironically Murdock didn't have it in him to sing currently. He stayed with Amy and the two of them fell asleep leaning against one another, which just left Face and Jean; surprisingly they couldn't seem to make enough noise to wake the other two.

It was amazing the minor things you could argue over even in the most ominous situations. Jean flat out refused to sing 'You are my Sunshine' on the grounds that she hated the song, so instead she and the Lieutenant passed the time belting out every song they knew from The Who, Steppenwolf, Creedence Clearwater Revival, David Bowie, and were currently winding down on Crosby, Stills and Nash.

"I thi-i-ink I see a va-a-a-lley, cov-ered in bones and blue, all the brave soldiers who can-not get older been, asking af-ter you…hear the past a-calling, from Ar-r-r-r-mageddon's side, when everyone's talking and no one is listening, ho-o-o-w can we decide? Do we fi-i-i-nd the cost of free-e-e-dom, bur-ied in the grou-und? Mo-th-e-er Earth will swa-a-llow you, lay your bo-dy do-o-own."

All this time, all that noise and Murdock and Amy were still sound asleep, Face didn't know how they did it.

"Let's do another one," Jean said.

"Another one?" Face's voice was getting hoarse, "I don't know another one."

"Alright…so let's do 'Cathedral' again," Jean told him.

"I don't like that one," Face twitched his nose at the thought of it.

"That's just your Catholic upbringing talking, when was the last time you were actually in a church?"

"Mmm…as a nun?" Face asked.

"No."

"Oh, then it's been a while," he replied.

"Alright," Jean tried to think, "Do you know any Jerry Reed?"

Face gave her a puzzled look, his voice failed him.

"Never mind," Jean said, "I'll sing, you just provide the backup."

Through no easy task, they managed to get through 'The Wabash Cannonball' and were halfway through 'She Got the Goldmine, I got the Shaft' when they heard a commotion from outside the door. A minute later, the door was kicked open and they saw B.A., with Hannibal not far behind him.

"It's about time you showed up," Jean said to the Colonel, "I was running out of songs and Face was running out of voice."

The noise of their entrance had been enough to wake up Amy and the Captain, and everybody was glad to see the A-Team's other crazy man and the angry mudsucker.

"How'd you find out where we were?" Amy asked.

"Long story, kid," Hannibal said.

"Who was it?" Murdock asked.

"Just some old business that refused to stay old," Hannibal answered, "Some people just can't let go of a grudge. Is everybody okay?"

"I think so," Face said.

"Alright then, everybody out."

"Indian file," Murdock said, noting how narrow the way out was.

"You mean single file," Face said.

"It's the exact same thing," Jean told him.

Hannibal was leading the way but he suddenly stopped and forced the others to do the same. He turned back to them and said, "Oh by the way, which one of you was the biter?"

"What?" was the general response.

"When we came in," Hannibal said, "One of the guys had a good set of teeth marks on him, now they all had something bloody or busted, but only one of them got bitten, so which one of you do we congratulate for that one?"

Face turned and looked at Murdock curiously, Murdock in turn did the same and looked behind him at Jean with just as much curiosity readable on his face. Jean clicked her tongue against the back of the roof of her mouth as if she was trying to pick up on the taste of somebody's clothing, or skin or blood, and when she apparently didn't find what she was looking for, she also turned around and looked at Amy, who seemed a bit out of it but didn't bother looking at anyone.

Hannibal's eyes widened slightly when he realized this, but managed to sound unfazed by the finding and merely commented, "Nice work, kid."

Out in the light they were able to get a better look at their injuries. They had all been knocked around fairly well and it showed, on some of them more than others. Amy had a couple of small bruises on her face and a set of broken nails on one hand from jabbing them into one of their assailants during the fight, Murdock had a cut over one eye and given the sounds he made with every other breath he took, maybe some bruised ribs. Face had a couple of knots in his head and a migraine that felt like it could stun an elephant, fortunately this time he hadn't lost any caps. Jean had a fresh set of bruises on her arms on top of the old ones and a shiner that looked like B.A. had decked her one, but overall none of them seemed to be the worse for wear.

They walked through a narrow room, up a rickety flight of stairs and found themselves back on the ground floor level of some old house. Passing through the rooms they saw their 'gracious hosts' knocked out and tied up on the floor, very efficient.

Jean got ahead of the others as they went outside, and she went up to Hannibal and murmured to him, "I think your princess is finally learning how the game's played."

"Don't start, Jean," he warned her.

"No, I mean it," she said, "You know contrary to the image Walt Disney gave princesses in the 50s, the original fairy tale princesses were capable of far more than anybody today could imagine. Of course they had to. Originally they were far more bloody, lot of death, murder, cannibalism, mutilation, you name it…can't be a cushioned princess in the midst of all that. Now you take Rapunzel, got pregnant, was cast out, went and had twins in the desert and raised them, show me any princess today that could do that."

Hannibal thought about it and commented, "I suppose you have a point on that one."

"You ought to know about it," Jean said, "The originals were first told over a hundred years ago, you had to have heard them as a kid…when they were fresh."

He leered at her and dryly remarked, "Ha-ha…get in the van."

Once she got in her seat, Jean pulled up her sleeve and looked at the new bruises on her arm and said, more to herself than Hannibal, "While the Trangs were staying at the house, V.C. took a look at me and she said that I give new meaning to being black and blue because of the man I love…I suppose she was right." She shook her head dismissively and a few seconds later the others joined them and they were out of there.