Face slammed the car door on his side shut and moved over to the sidewalk and said to Hannibal as he came around the other side of the car and joined him, "I tried calling three times and nobody answers, I'm worried."
"For whose sake?" Hannibal asked as he headed up the sidewalk with an almost annoyed look on his face. It had been three hours since Murdock had left the set with Jean and they hadn't heard a peep out of either one of them since. Hannibal had insisted they needn't bother the Captain and his fiancée, but if it was going to calm Face down…
"Come on, Hannibal," Face said.
They got up on the porch, found the door unlocked, and went in. They didn't call out at first, to see if they heard anything, but the whole house was quiet, a rarity for them, especially for this time of the day. They took the rooms one by one, first the dining room, then the living room, and that was where they stopped.
Murdock lay sprawled on the couch asleep, Jean was sprawled over him, her feet draped over the couch's arm, Murdock's arms wrapped around her waist, both of them looked as if they were at peace. Both men were quick to note the small smile on the pilot's face, almost as if he was exactly where he wanted to be.
"You were saying, Lieutenant?" Hannibal asked.
"I don't get it," Face said, "I would've figured after that, that she would've bitten his head off."
Hannibal shrugged and said, "They're a couple of adults, they can settle a disagreement civilly."
"Since when?" Face asked.
Hannibal just chuckled and gestured towards the door. Face took another look to the two people on the couch, and he didn't get it, but he quietly followed Hannibal to the door and they slipped out of the house.
Murdock poured two glasses of wine and then picked them both up and scrutinized them to see if they had an even amount in them. He poured a quarter inch more into one glass and took them over to Jean at the kitchen table and handed one to her.
"I'm sorry I got you fired," Murdock said as Jean took a slow drink from her glass.
Jean looked down at her lap for a few seconds, then she looked up at him and responded, "I suppose in a way I'm glad you did."
"What do you mean?" Murdock asked as he sat down across from her.
Jean tried to explain but twice she swallowed the words before any sounds came out, "Face was right, I've never done a stunt like that before, just the idea of it scared the hell out of me…but with everything I have been put through for my work…how could I turn the job down? How could it have been any worse than being tied to the skids of a helicopter?"
"But it could," Murdock completed the thought for her.
"I know," Jean breathed heavier, "But between not working and just doing more Vietnam or Nicaragua battle scenes…I was anxious to try something different." She put her glass on the table and picked at the dirt under the nails on one hand with the nails of the other, "Anymore there are plenty of times I wish I wasn't a stuntman. I wish I could do something else, but there's nothing else I can do, that I know how to do, and anything that I do, it isn't good enough to break into the field of it."
Murdock got up from his chair and moved over to her side of the table and rubbed her back and said, "Jean, if you're fed up with it, you don't have to go back."
"Right, and what else would I do?" she asked.
He didn't answer immediately, only told her, "We have enough money to run on while you took time off to figure it out."
Jean looked like she was having a migraine. She wished he hadn't mentioned that, because it made her think of something else. As of yet he hadn't seen the money she got in settlement from that amusement park, if he did he'd notice that there was more money missing than there had been, and she couldn't explain just yet where it had gone, what she'd used it on.
Jean rested her head on the table for a few minutes before she opened her eyes and looked up at Murdock and said, "I need to talk to Hannibal about something."
"How many people know what it's like to go through life never knowing how to do anything, never being able to?" Jean asked Hannibal as she sat on the edge of his bed and looked at him as he paced around the room.
Hannibal chewed on his cigar and seemed to think about what she said, "You're capable of doing a lot of stuff, Jean."
"None that pays though," Jean said, "Not unless I want to hire out my services as an assassin." She snorted and added, "Face sure liked rubbing my nose in that fact that about the only thing I've ever done right is kill people, and he's not wrong. But it's not what I want to do, Hannibal."
Hannibal paced back and forth and thought about it, and he looked to Jean and said, "But that's not what's going through your mind."
"I want to get out of stunts, I want to have a part in the creative process of films," Jean said, "But all I know is bloodshed and the corruption that exists in the military. I tried burying that part of my life but I can't, no matter what I do. I think if I could, I'd be much better off. So…if it's still haunting me, there has to be a reason, right? It must serve some purpose for me now, mustn't it?"
"What sort of purpose?" Hannibal asked.
"When you were babysitting Stevi Faith, I wanted to talk to you…I've started and forgotten so many ideas for scripts, Hannibal…nothing I can think of I ever have it in me to actually finish…I've tried to find the answer, and I'm afraid I finally found it."
Hannibal gave a slight nod grimly, "Write a script about the trafficking ring, writing about what you know, about what the Army did and what they tried to do to you, because it's what you know best. And with it already finished and in the past, you wouldn't have far to go to get the inspiration to see it through, it could just be recalled from memory, and perhaps in the process, exorcise the demons that are still haunting you."
Jean looked low and around the room, not focusing her eyes on anything in particular, "I've lost my mind, haven't I? Why else would I think of such a thing?"
Very calmly, Hannibal answered, "Because it's the most logical thing in the world, because it may in fact perhaps be the only answer."
Jean's eyes already felt like they were burning, "It would also mean reliving every single thing that happened."
"Sometimes," Hannibal told her, "It's the only way to get on with your life. It could also be therapeutic. We know what happened, but maybe what you need to do is just get it down, get it out, let someone else know what happened, and if you do it this way, nobody ever has to know how you know it. People don't really think to question the creative process of film writers."
Jean was breathing heavily again, she pressed her hands against the sides of her head and asked Hannibal, "Why is it things that are supposed to make you feel better, first have to make you feel like someone cut you open with a dull scalpel and just ripped everything out and tossed it in a pile on the floor?"
Hannibal just looked at Jean for about a minute, saying nothing. Then he went over to her and surprised Jean by wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. He tried to be assuring as he told her, "It'll get better, kid, it just takes time."
Jean took a final look at the plain gold band before snapping the lid shut on the ring box. $300 for a plain band, wedding rings were a racket. But she also knew that it actually meant something to Murdock, it was important to him, therefore it was important to her. She hadn't bothered getting it engraved, she never saw much point in that other than to test the jeweler's abilities. She knew it was the right size, though as of yet it had never seen Murdock's finger. She'd had it measured exactly to match the silver one she'd given him at Christmas for their engagement.
Murdock lay in the bed asleep, peacefully oblivious to what was going on. Jean tucked the ring box back in her underwear drawer and closed it, one place she knew Murdock would never look for anything. She padded back over to the bed and climbed in alongside him, grabbed his hand in hers and looked at it. One of these days…
She didn't know what reality was anymore. Traditionally speaking the idea of marriage was a man and woman getting married and staying together for the rest of their lives, which depending on the time of which the knot was tied, could be up to 70 years. But that wasn't reality when you were a fugitive, or even a friend of one or married into a family of them. Reality then became a matter of you could get gunned down any day of the week for being in the wrong place at the wrong time with what the Army considered the wrong people. Reality also became a matter of there were places in the world you could not follow your significant other to because it was simply too risky, sometimes for everyone involved. Another reality was as long as they remained fugitives, there would be no children, it just couldn't be a possibility; because the wrong people would find out and there would be no mercy shown for either a pregnant woman or a bunch of helpless little children.
The simple reality was that Jean had no idea if the time she had left with Murdock would be one minute, one hour, one day, one month, one year, five years? If they got married now would they even live long enough to see their first anniversary? She didn't know, and in reality it really didn't matter, whatever time they had was what they had. That said, she knew it was ridiculous her dragging her feet like this, but she'd already made up her mind, before they walked that last mile down the aisle, there were some things that she had to get put right first, everything else, she'd decided, would have to wait.
Murdock had been drifting between fully and half asleep when he was awakened by a strange noise. He looked over to the other side of the bed and saw it was Jean crying, she was sitting almost in a ball, her arms pressed tightly against herself as if she was freezing.
"What's the matter, hon?" he asked as he slowly moved over towards her, "Have a nightmare?"
"No," she replied as she felt his thin but strong arms wrap around her. She tried to appear half-composed if nothing else as she answered, "No…just breaking into a little 'therapeutic' work."
She even felt cold, which was odd considering they were nearing August and the air conditioner still didn't run as cold as she'd prefer it to. Murdock rubbed her back and pulled her along to join him towards his side of the bed. By now they only had a couple sheets on the top of the bed but he pulled them up to cover them both and hoped it'd be enough to get her warmed up.
"Rough first night," he concluded, he'd fallen asleep hearing the clack-clack-clack of her typewriter downstairs earlier in the night.
Hannibal had called earlier in the day and told him what was going to be going on, and he'd pointed out that what Jean was going to need more than anything was an emotionally available and supportive husband right now, technicalities notwithstanding. He'd always been the one who understood her best, and it was especially true going back to this period of her life; he'd been the only one who truly understood her back then. And Murdock knew what they all knew, going back to open up old wounds of this proportion, there wasn't going to be any peace while she was working. There was going to be a lot of high anxiety and exploding tempers and a fresh river of tears to accompany the frustration, the guilt, the depression, and the trauma that was stoked up like the coals in a raging fire. But, it was something that Jean felt had to be done and furthermore it was something Hannibal believed had to be done if Jean was going to get better and get past this part of her life; so Murdock knew he didn't have much choice but to be as supportive about it as he could.
"I don't think it's going to get any easier," Jean told him.
Murdock made a few small sympathetic sounds as he adjusted his hold on her and pressed her to him as he said, "Take it from me, darling, purging your soul ain't anymore comfortable than purging any other part of your body…but it is all for a reason, and when it's all over you'll feel better for it."
"I hope so, Murdock," she replied.
"Just try to get some rest," he told her, "You'll feel better in the morning."
"I doubt it," she said.
Murdock was solemnly quiet for a minute as he had her pressed against his chest, his hand patting her on the back lightly, an idea came to him and with a sly little smirk, he looked down at her and started to softly croon, "Good-night, sweet-heart, all my prayers are for you…"
"Murdock, don't start," Jean looked up at him.
"Good-night sweet-heart, I'll be watching o're you…"
"Murdock, I'm not in the mood," Jean said, her voice cracking in parts, divided between a choked sob and a restrained giggle.
Murdock persisted, "Tears and the parting, may make us forlorn…"
"Murdock, I'm warning you…"
"But with the dawn, a new day is born…so I'll say goodnight, sweetheart, sleep will banish sorrow…"
"Murdock!" Jean tried to sound furious but it had done the trick and instead what came out was a full force laugh.
"Good-night sweet-heart, when we meet tomorrow…"
Jean buried her head in the crook from his shoulder and was laughing uncontrollably now. It lasted for a few good seconds before it slowly started to die down, but when he didn't hear anything else out of Jean except for her light breathing, Murdock knew that it was a mission accomplished. They both fell asleep a few minutes later and neither one of them woke up until the sun was up the next morning.
"How the hell did you get this job?" Jean asked Tommy Trang the next day as she followed him out of his dressing room to where they were going to flip the jeep again since the first couple tries hadn't made for good film.
Tommy adjusted the strap on his helmet and shrugged, "Beats me, they want a guy that can flip and roll in a vehicle, I'm always drafted, I've already broken 3 bones this way, luckier than most of the poor saps they get to do this work but still...you know," he turned to her, "I've said before that they ought to give us the same protection that motorcycle racers get. You ever see their outfits? They have everything, they have heavy padding in the backs, they have a padded hump against the back of their neck, heavy knee pads, they get it a lot better than we do. Of course you know why that is, don't you?"
"Sure, they can look heavy in the gear, we have to look like the real thing as much as possible and can't afford the bulk."
"Exactly," Tommy replied, "All that 'realism' crap, if they want realism then they need to switch to documentaries instead of movies."
"Reality is highly overrated," Jean commented, "Personally I always preferred the crazier stunts, like "Smokey and the Bandit", or even the old Disney movies from the 60s, remember their car chases? Wackiest things to ever grace the silver screen, "The Great Race" never had nothing on them."
"Oh well," Tommy sighed, "A stuntman's work is never done."
"Ain't that the truth?" Jean asked.
"You know sometimes I think it'd be a lot less painful to just go into a legitimate line of work, like shark wrestling," he told her as he went around the jeep and made sure everything was as it was supposed to be before filming began for the day.
"Hey, how did it go the other day with that nut Fulbright?" Jean asked, "I understand you all made for a nice distraction when he came to a red light."
Tommy just laughed and said, "Oh it's sure easy to get his dander up, thinks he can order people around by threatening to run them over if they don't get out of his way, he's funny."
"I haven't seen this guy face to face yet," Jean said, "I don't think Hannibal really has either since he started posing as a revolving door of employees at the Federal Building."
"Is he there again today?" Tommy asked.
"Nope," she replied, "Had a meeting with a potential new client."
Tommy turned to her and had an unusual and almost sinister grin on his face as he asked, "Shall we go pay the bull a visit?"
Jean scratched her head and asked, "As what, a couple of Jehovah Witnesses?"
"Don't you have a uniform like this?" he asked as he tugged on his MP outfit.
"Sure," she answered, "But I gotta take precautions, Hannibal's still trying to figure out what that plant at the building is, I can't go in and have anybody recognize me."
"Oh…" Tommy rubbed his hands together mischievously and said, "I'm sure we can think of something to compromise. In any case it'll get me out of here, let them give some other sucker this job, be fine with me."
Jean thought about it and told him, "I'll go suit up."
Face caught something out of the corner of his eye and turned in his seat to look out the window on his side of the van, and looked at the road behind them.
"Uh oh," he groaned, "We got company, guys."
Hannibal checked his mirror and saw a flash of red and blue lights behind them, "Hmm, ol' Bull must've eaten his Wheaties today, I didn't think he'd be on our tail for a good 10 miles, no matter."
"You know what I always find so interesting about you, Hannibal?" Face dryly asked, "How the things you say that are supposed to make us feel better about a situation never do."
Hannibal ignored him and turned to the Sergeant and told him, "Step on it, B.A."
"On it, Hannibal."
The mudsucker's size 14 boot pressed the accelerator to the floor and they zipped through the mostly vacant streets at near 100 mph, but the MPs were still in hot pursuit.
"What a time not to have a big box of tacks to toss out," Murdock mused.
"No matter," Hannibal said, watching the Captain through the rear mirror and saw him unlock a secret compartment in the back of the van that concealed several firearms ready for use, "We'll just have to supply a different kind of roadside obstacle."
"I don't get it," Face commented, "How could they have spotted us? We've used every back road between here and L.A. for the last five miles. Hey…you don't think that woman who hired us…?"
"That woman," Hannibal refreshed the Lieutenant's memory, "Is 8 ½ months pregnant and about to pop, there's no way she's on Fulbright's payroll, she couldn't have tipped him off."
"Who then?" Face asked.
Hannibal thought about it for a few seconds before determining, "I'm not sure."
A few shots were fired at the van, but fortunately missed, so Murdock took a rifle, aimed out the window on his side and returned the gesture, but he managed to take out a few tires and cause a few MP cars to skid off the road and into some shallow ditches.
"We can't go forward like this," Hannibal said, "B.A., double around, we're going to try and shake them back on our own charted territory."
"Are you nuts, Hannibal?!" Face yelled.
"No, but Fulbright is…it wouldn't matter to him if a pregnant woman died in the crossfire if he thought it meant catching us, he's worse than Decker ever was, he doesn't care what casualties he creates so long as the bottom line pays off."
Another shot from the other side took out the side mirror on Hannibal's side of the van.
"I guess not," Face replied.
Murdock and Face were slammed into each other as the van sharply turned around and headed back the way they'd come, at full speed.
"That's what you get for not wearing your seatbelts," Hannibal joked lightly.
"Do you see what I see?" Jean asked Tommy.
They'd both gone on ahead dressed as MPs and both driving MP cars stolen from the movie lot to make their visit to the Federal Building seem more authentic. But before they reached the building, they stopped off a ways and headed up a small hill to scope out the location before plunging head on into anything. They'd noticed that there weren't any MP cars parked outside the building, which wasn't good. Looking around they got something resembling a bird's eye view of the surrounding area. And in the opposite direction they saw several vehicles racing back into the city limits. The first one was a van, and behind it were about two dozen cars with lights flashing. From the distance between them, it was impossible to tell how fast the vehicles were going, but they were all kicking up a violent dust storm behind them.
"I see it but I don't believe it," Tommy replied, "What're they doing?"
"I don't know, but I'm going to try something," Jean went over to her car, switched on the car's radio and tuned it in to match with the frequency of the radio in the van.
"Hannibal, what the hell is going on?" she asked.
There was some static on the radio before Hannibal came back and told them, "Fulbright's up for a game of catch, he seems to enjoy the chase."
Jean scratched the side of her head and responded to Hannibal, "Give me your planned location, I'll see if I can't help run interference."
"That's a bad idea, kid," Hannibal told her.
"I don't care, give me your location," Jean said, "We'll head him off, you guys speed on ahead."
After she got the coordinations from Hannibal, she juggled the radio's frequency again and when it seemed she got the one she was looking for, she started talking differently. Tommy didn't get what she was doing, he noticed that she was tossing out a lot of numbers and he didn't have any idea what it meant. Then she turned the radio off and told him they had to move.
"What was that about?" Tommy asked as he headed for his own car.
"I managed to get in on the police band," Jean told him, "I'm taking a chance that the A-Team will be able to shake Fulbright long enough for the cops to come between them."
"Now why would they do that?" he asked her.
"Because I called in a 10-54 and 19-79, and they ought to bring out the whole convoy to investigate, right about where Fulbright's going to find himself alone on the road," Jean answered.
"What's that?" Tommy asked.
"If I remember right," she answered as she got in her car, "A dead body, and a bomb threat."
Tommy nodded, "That ought to do it. But how're we going to get in his way?"
"We floor it," Jean said as she got the ignition to turn over on her car, "Follow me!"
And down the hill they went, once they were on level ground again they made the needles on the speedometers climb up to 70, 80, then 95, following the path of the other vehicles. Nobody seemed to notice that they came in out of nowhere, and that was good. The van picked up speed and put a gap between themselves and Fulbright's car, and when that happened, Jean pressed harder on the gas and sped ahead of the other cars and zipped across the dirt road, kicking up a nice dust contrail to blindside the others. Tommy followed suit and came in from the other side, giving them twice as much dust to try seeing through.
Since none of the drivers of the MP cars could tell what had happened or where they were going, they all swerved out and away from one another. Jean took note of which one Fulbright was in and doubled around so she was tailing him. Then before the dust cleared too much, she pressed down on the gas again and rammed him like they were a couple bumper cars at the amusement park. It gave Fulbright a little knock about, and it smashed the back fender of the car, but that was the extent of the damage. Jean pulled away, then after a few seconds circled back around and smacked into him again. She started to laugh as she jerked the steering wheel one way, then another to keep in line with him, this was starting to be fun. Another lunge forward and another smash into the car ahead of her, if Fulbright didn't get too smart real soon, this could go on all day, or until one of the cars was smashed up beyond recognition, whichever one occurred first.
The radio in her car crackled with static before she heard Tommy's voice come on the airwaves and he said, "Hey this has been fun and all, but we gotta get the hell out of here."
"Roger that," Jean replied as she held the radio in one hand and the wheel in the other and floored the accelerator.
They left the real MP cars in their dust, and once Jean knew they were out of range for anyone else to hear, she told Tommy, "I do believe that this is going to be the Bull's undoing and Decker's reinstatement."
"Oh yeah?" Tommy asked, "What makes you say that?"
"Simple, when I called in the police report I told them that it was on behalf of General Harlan Fulbright. Just wait till they get there and there's no dead body, and no bomb, and they cut him off and he has to explain himself."
She could hear Tommy cackling on the other end, and he replied, "Not bloody enough for my own preference but it's a close second. So now what do we do?"
An idea occurred to Jean and she asked him, "What do you say we have one more good laugh at his expense before he gets back in time for the boot?"
"I'm listening," he answered.
Two hours. Two hours arguing with those idiotic cops about a report he never called in, especially not on the police CB radio. That, coupled with the fact that the A-Team had gotten away from him, all conspired to make this one lousy day for General Fulbright. And he was looking forward to just getting back, having a few stiff drinks and forgetting this day ever happened. Unfortunately he soon found out that somebody had other plans for him.
It looked as if he'd finally hit upon a stroke of good luck. On the road ahead he noticed a black and gray van with a red stripe on it, driving in the same direction he was, with about 5 blocks' distance between them at a steady rate of 60 mph. There was no indication that the occupants of the van saw Fulbright behind them, and he used that to his advantage. He sped up and caught up behind the van and got on the car's bullhorn and ordered the people in the van to pull over or else they would be shot, surprisingly they complied.
"It was a nice try, John Smith," Fulbright said as he got out of his car, "But it all ends here."
He walked up to the van and beat on the side and ordered everybody out with their hands up, or else. The back doors were thrown open, and the sight that greeted Fulbright instead of the one he was expecting, turned out to be 3 Vietnamese people in army green suits.
"Hello!" they echoed in sync.
"Oh no!" Fulbright smacked himself, "This can't be happening."
"My name is Who," Tommy Trang said.
"My name is What," V.C. Trang added.
"My name is Where," Jimmy Trang concluded.
"We are Who, What, and Where," they said simultaneously.
Fulbright felt a vein throbbing over one eye. Somehow he just knew that Hannibal Smith was behind this. He couldn't prove it just as of yet, but he was determined to find out how, and catch the man red handed. He turned to the MPs and addressed them, "They're not walking away from this, they know something, load them up in the cars and take them back to the Federal Building, we're going to interrogate them."
"Eh? What'd he say?" V.C. turned to Jimmy.
"I think we're about to be arrested," her brother told her.
"Oh, well!" she made a big show of throwing her arms out to give an 'I could care less' gesture, and in the same movement spun around on her heel and knocked Fulbright in the jaw with her fist.
And they were in action. Tommy threw himself forward to the ground, standing on his hands and kicking his feet like a mule and kicking one of the MPs and knocking him down. Jimmy nabbed a couple other MPs and threw them together, causing them to knock heads and fall down. V.C. took her helmet off and used it to beat another MP in the head with. Then she jumped onto the hood of one of the MP cars, and then onto the roof of it; Jimmy ran over to the side of the car and V.C. jumped onto his shoulders and balanced herself awkwardly so the upper part of her body leaned back and her legs stuck out and forward, all the better to stick under an unsuspecting General's armpits and lift him off of his feet. Fulbright didn't know what had happened, all he knew was one minute he was being lifted off the ground and the next he was spinning around until he was about sick. Once V.C. and Jimmy were tired of playing with him, they brought it to an abrupt halt like ending a game of 'crack the whip' and sent the General flying a short distance before he crashed on the ground. Then V.C. rolled off of her brother's back and onto the hood of the car again, and she jumped off and they hit the ground running. They ran back to the van, slammed the doors and sped away, leaving the defeated General and his equally defeated men, in the dust.
"Now that was fun!" V.C. laughed as they drove away.
"And funny!" Tommy added.
Jimmy glanced out the side mirror and pressed harder on the accelerator to make sure they got away without anyone trailing them.
"Boy that guy Bull really is stupid, isn't he?" V.C. asked her little brother.
Tommy turned to her and asked, "What do you mean, sis?"
V.C. pointed to the van's interior and answered, "This van we swapped from the car lot, the A-Team's van is a GMC model, this is a Ford Econoline, how did he not notice that?"
"Maybe vehicles ain't his specialty," Jimmy thought, "It was just dumb luck we were able to find one with the same paint job."
"Speaking of which," Tommy added, "I think it'd be funny if by the time they actually got back to the building, after they stepped inside, somebody did a nice little one-stop chop-shop job on all those sedans, don't you?"
Jimmy resisted the urge to laugh at the idea, but his toothy grin gave him away. "One Trang special, coming right up!"
"Hannibal I give you my word," Jean said, "I had absolutely nothing to do with what happened to Fulbright…after he ran into the police."
"You just keep yourself out of trouble," Hannibal warned her, "We're going to be gone a couple days probably."
"What's the job?" Jean asked.
"A little domestic problem," Hannibal said.
"That's all?" she asked.
"Well, that's what the police call it," he answered, "But how would you categorize a psycho threatening to kill his ex-wife and their unborn baby?"
Jean bit a fingernail as she asked, "That depends, did he pull a box cutter on her and threaten to cut it out?"
"Yeah," Hannibal answered suspiciously, "How'd you know that?"
Jean scratched one eyebrow and responded, "No offense, Hannibal, but it sounds like a garden variety Vet sent back hopped up on morphine who by now is either going through a very long bout of withdrawal, which is highly unlikely, or self medicating through other means of similar substance, there were a few of those in our neighborhood when I was a kid, and they did make such threats, a couple came damn close to making good on them too. And of course the cops wouldn't go anywhere near them since they were decorated Veterans with purple hearts and therefore could do no wrong and in any case it would be bad publicity for the department."
"Yeah I know," Hannibal replied, "I got that whole song and dance from our client, she's had to live through it for the last three years. She only divorced him once she found out she was pregnant, had a restraining order taken out against him, of course that does no good either."
"And people wonder why Francine Hughes set her husband on fire," Jean commented.
"Are you going to be alright by yourself for the next couple days?" Hannibal asked.
Jean about swallowed her gum, "Am I going to be alright? I'm not the one about to pop like a balloon."
"You know what I mean," Hannibal told her.
Jean nodded, "I'll be fine, trust me."
"I wish I could, kid, but I know you," he replied lightheartedly.
Jean stuck her tongue out at the phone and said into the receiver, "Hannibal I'll be fine, if anyone breaks in I'll show them my slides of Disney World, now goodbye."
"Goodbye, Jean," Hannibal replied, then there was a click.
Jean hung up the phone in her bedroom and went over to her dresser and took the ring box out of the top drawer. She flipped the lid open and looked at the ring again. $300 for a plain gold band…it was worth it…it would be once they actually got to the wedding. First things first though, she decided as she closed the box and reluctantly put it away again.