Lunaz: Thanks; glad to hear you're enjoying it :)

"'Welcome to sunny Sacheton'," Murdock read aloud as the van drove past the sign...just like he'd been reading every road sign they passed for the last three miles, from restaurant names to speed limits. Someone had sprayed graffiti under this particular sign which read, Wish You Were Here, Instead of Me.

"Ain't nothin' sunny about it!"

BA was right. As if to match Face's mood, it had started to rain ten minutes after they'd left the truck stop, a light, drizzling rain that hadn't shown any signs of letting up yet.

"Hey big guy, I jus' read the signs, I don't write 'em."

Hannibal chomped on his cigar, glancing out the window as the houses rolled by. Sacheton may not have been particularly sunny, but it was a nice looking town for all that. Homey. The kind of place where your bank manager knows not just you, but your kids and your pet dog by name.

It'll do, he thought, and raised his voice.

"It might be an idea to stop off here, pick up some food for later." He twisted around to look at the only member of the Team who had yet to react to any of this. "Face? What do you say?"

"What?" The lieutenant, who had been pretending to look out the non-existent window, shot him an irritated glance, then looked away again. "Oh. Yeah. Sure, Hannibal, whatever you say."

"You feeling okay, kid?"

"I'm fine! Why does everybody keep asking me that?" Face demanded, somewhat unfairly since this was the first time anyone had mentioned it.

Murdock edged a little closer to the lieutenant and lowered his voice to a friendly, conspiratorial tone. "Y'know Faceman, I had an aunt once who used to go nuts every time she heard the song Summer Holiday."

Face's head snapped around again and he glared at the other man. "Murdock, I did NOT go nuts!"

Murdock looked a little wounded. "Never said you did. I was just makin' conversation."

The glare simmered down a little as Face stared at the pilot, wondering – not for the first time – just how crazy Murdock actually was. There were times when he seemed to act completely sane—

"Uh...Colonel? Can we pull over? I think Billy gotta go to the bathroom."

—for a given value of sane, of course.

"Sure Murdock." Hannibal glanced around, then used his cigar to point at a parking bay a little way down the road from a grocery store. "BA, park it up over there, would ya?"

"Come on, Hannibal. You know there ain't no dog!"

"BA..."

Growling, BA pulled over, and Hannibal opened the door. "Right. Murdock, let Billy out before he does something on the carpet that BA won't like. BA, keep an eye out and I'll go get the food. Face, you're with me."

Face groaned. "Hannibal, this isn't a mission. I mean, we're buying groceries. You know, I think I'll just wait here with BA and—"

"Face!"

The lieutenant sighed and got to his feet. "Alright, I'm coming."

"Face?" Murdock plucked at Face's sleeve, an anxious look on his face. "Make sure you pick up a steak bone for Billy, okay?"

Grateful for the distraction, Face glanced at the pilot. "Murdock, he just ate."

"Well, sure, now. But he's gonna get hungry later on just like the rest of us. C'mon Faceman, you're buyin' food for everyone else. Whaddaya say?"

Face hesitated for a second before surrendering to the inevitable. "Sure. I'll, uh, see what I can do."

Hannibal's voice drifted in from outside. "Time's a-wastin', Lieutenant."

With a sigh that suggested he was about to sacrifice all that he held dear for the good of the Team, Face opened the door and slid out to join his colonel. The rain hit instantly, a cold, clammy drizzle that got into your bones and chilled you far faster than any torrential downpour. He had a nasty suspicion why Hannibal had demanded his help, and as soon as Murdock had hopped back into the van with Billy and shut the door, he was proved right; the colonel moved in front and turned to face him.

"Something you want to say to me, kid?"

Face gave him a brilliant smile. "Sure, Hannibal. Let's see...it's a wet, grey day in the sweet neighbourhood of Sacheton, birds aren't singing, kids aren't playing but people are starting to stare so you might wanna move right about now." When Hannibal didn't budge, Face continued. "Uh...the square root of fifteen hundred and twenty one is thirty nine, not sure what the cube is, gimme a minute on that and I'll get back to you. There's a sign in the window of that grocery store up ahead offering twenty percent off apples and bananas...hmm. Guess the fruit market's not so good here, huh?"

Shrugging, he started to go past, only to have Hannibal grip his elbow tightly.

"Talk to me, Lieutenant." There was pure steel in the colonel's voice.

Face raised an eyebrow. "I just did. Or did you have a particular subject in mind?" he added, then kicked himself for giving Hannibal the perfect opening.

"Why don't we start with what happened in the van back there?"

Pulling free, Face held up both his hands in surrender. "Look, I said I was sorry about dropping that burger. I even offered to clean the ketchup outta the carpet!"

Hannibal gave him a long look as they started walking again. "Face..."

"Or...pay someone to do it," Face amended reluctantly. "Look, Hannibal, do we have to do this right here? Right now? In the rain?"

"I figured you'd rather here than in front of the others. Face, you really lost it back there. Now what is going on?"

"Well, I dunno, Hannibal, why don't you tell me? I mean, a song comes on the radio that I don't like, I ask you to turn it off and all of a sudden I'm getting the third degree here! You wouldn't be acting like this if BA had done it."

"That's because BA is BA. I know him, Face, and I know you, and I also know that you don't fly off the handle like that unless there's something seriously wrong." They reached the grocery store and Hannibal pushed open the door, causing a small bell to tinkle, and headed inside, Face following.

"The only thing wrong, Hannibal, is that I can't stand a certain singer singing a certain song! Now just lay off me, would ya?" Turning, Face strode away to the vegetable section and pretended to be interested in the cauliflowers there; an interest Hannibal knew was faked, since cauliflower was one of the few foods the lieutenant hated with the same kind of passion usually reserved by BA for people who scuffed his beloved van.

The colonel let it go, though. When they'd met in the POW camp in 'Nam, there had been a few – very few – occasions when Hannibal had managed to break through the walls that Face had built up around himself. What he'd found inside had been a little disjointed and the colonel had had to fill in some of the blanks himself, but the one definite thing he'd learned was that Face's ability to trust other people hadn't just been damaged; it had been shattered. The only way he was likely to get answers out of Face was if the lieutenant wanted him to have them. Push him and he'd clam up, get defensive. Really push him and he'd lose it, pretty much like he had back in the van.

Besides, unless Decker took it into his head to start singing Brenda Lee over the loudspeaker next time he caught up with them (which wasn't very likely, especially since Hannibal thought Louis Armstrong was much more suited to Decker's voice) the colonel couldn't see it being a problem.

At least not from the Team's point of view. He was concerned about Face on a personal level, but he respected the lieutenant too much to push him into a corner.

On the other side of the shop, Face picked up a bag of oranges and examined them carefully from all sides for bruising, then slung them in the basket and dropped half a dozen apples on top. Fruit and any other food that could be prepared without tables or cutlery was usually the order of the day, at least when the Team was planning to keep driving.

"Hey, uh, Hannibal?"

Hannibal turned away from the magazine rack to see Face standing in front of the chiller.

"Yeah?"

"How many cartons of milk do you think BA's gonna drink at lunchtime? Think four'll be enough?"

Hannibal pretended to consider. "Hmm...not sure. Better make it a half dozen just to be on the safe side."

"Right." Face opened the chiller, pulled out six cartons of milk and dumped them on top of the long-suffering oranges, then moved along until he came to the sandwich section and started hunting through it for ham and cheese.

The bell above the door tinkled again, announcing the arrival of a woman came in clutching a bundle of fliers tightly to her chest, as though frightened they'd vanish.

"Hey!" The shopkeeper, who rarely saw any out-of-towners in his store, and whose smile had been growing wider and wider with every item of food Face added to the basket, suddenly jerked up and glared at the woman. "Hey, I told you already, you can't put those things up here!"

The woman glanced around, smiled briefly as she saw Hannibal and Face looking at her with identical expressions of curiosity, then hurried up to the counter.

"Sam, please, just one—"

As Face and Hannibal watched, the man darted glances left and right, then lowered his voice.

"Look, Rita, you wanna get me in trouble? I feel for you, I really do, but Mr Markham said—"

"I don't give a damn what he said!" the woman called Rita erupted, slamming the fliers down onto the counter.

"No? Well, I do!" The shopkeeper picked them up again and shoved them into Rita's chest with enough force to send her stumbling back. "Take those things someplace else!"

Hannibal's voice was calm, measured as he moved up behind Rita and caught her before she fell, Face at his side.

"Is there a problem here?"

Rita opened her mouth but the shopkeeper got there first.

"No. No problem. This lady was just leaving." This last with a pointed glare.

Face glanced at Rita, taking her in. Well-dressed, slim, not unattractive but not exactly a bombshell either. Despite her neat attire, there was an unkempt look about her, as though she'd stopped taking care of herself with any seriousness a long time ago and was now just going through the motions.

"I said, she was just leaving!" the man repeated when the woman didn't seem willing to take the hint.

Face raised his eyebrows. "Is that right, ma'am?"

Without answering, the woman whirled and strode out, still clutching the fliers to her. A couple fluttered to the ground and Hannibal picked them up, studying one and holding the other out to Face, who was unloading his grocery basket on the counter.

"Hey Face, look at this."

Leaving the shopkeeper to finish ringing up the food, the lieutenant took the flier and looked obligingly. A grainy, black and white photo of a teenage girl smiled out at him. The picture wasn't good quality, but it was still clear enough to see that this girl was exceptionally pretty.

Give it another five or six years and she'll be a real beauty, Face thought, then looked down at the words written underneath.

MISSING

Christina "Chrissy" Allen, 15

Wearing a yellow blouse and blue jeans

Please call 555-4383

He glanced up at Hannibal, who was wearing a familiar expression, and groaned. "Oh, no. Hannibal, come on! This kid could be halfway across the country by now, if she's even still alive!"

"Face." It was as much of a reproof as Hannibal could make it. "Now we've got a couple of good leads already—"

"We do?" Face cut across, in tones which said he wouldn't believe it if he saw it written in the sky. "Colonel, that woman didn't even bother to look at us, let alone give us any leads."

Hannibal grinned. "Come on, Lieutenant. Think about it."

Uncomfortably aware that – win or lose – he wasn't going to come out of this argument particularly well, Face backed down a little.

"I'm not saying we shouldn't try to help her—"

"Good!"

"—I'm just saying that I think it's gonna be impossible, even with your mysterious leads."

"Hardly mysterious." Hannibal handed over two ten dollar bills to the now apprehensive looking store clerk and took his change and one of the grocery bags. "Let's go, kid. We'll drop this stuff off at the van, then see if we can find that woman again."

Face groaned. "You know something, Hannibal? Once, just once, it'd be nice if we could, I dunno, go grocery shopping, or have a drink, or even just fill up with gas without stumbling across some cause that needs championing! I mean, I know this sounds a little nuts but I'm starting to think there's some kinda conspiracy going on."

"You know something, Face?" Hannibal clapped the lieutenant on the shoulder with a grin. "You're absolutely right."

Face hesitated. "I am?"

"Yeah. It does sound nuts." Turning, the colonel strolled outside, leaving Face to gather up the rest of the groceries and follow him with a long-suffering sigh.

"Right..."

Okay, more will be along soon! In the meantime, if you read, please review, and thank you to everyone who has so far! :)