"Hey Faceman," B.A. said, "I don't know who's gonna need the hospital worse, Hannibal, or that crazy fool Murdock."

"Why, what's he doing now?" Face asked.

B.A. pointed back to the living room, "He watching Hannibal like a hawk, he ain't left that chair for three hours."

"He did the same thing all night," Jean told them, "That's how he was when I finally fell asleep around three, and he was still like that when I woke up this morning. I don't get it," she told Face, "All four of you guys have been in pretty poor condition at some time or another, so why's he so worried about Hannibal now?"

"Like he said, Hannibal's never gotten this bad before," Face said, "Even in Vietnam he never got delirious to the point he didn't know us."

"Well what do you think that is?" Jean asked.

"I don't know," Face replied, "But whatever it was, it seems to be gone now."

"But the fever remains," Jean said, "A fever can cause delirium but it doesn't make sense it's gone now when his fever's still as strong as ever. Or does it?" They looked at each other at that thought and Jean elaborated, "Murdock said Hannibal was snapping at you guys for two days, maybe that's when he started losing it, if that's the case isn't it possible that his fever was higher in the beginning?"

"It's possible but I don't know how likely," Face said.

"But it is possible," Jean insisted, "He might've been at 104 or 105, we don't know, if that's the case and we can keep his fever going down then he should be alright, whatever it is."

"Yeah whatever it is…" Face repeated dryly, then something occurred to him and he smacked himself for not thinking of it sooner.

"What is it?" B.A. asked.

"Whatever it is," he said again stiffly, he looked at B.A. and said, "Whatever it is, just because he wasn't leaving a blood trail behind him when we left doesn't mean the fever didn't come from an injury he might've sustained when we escaped from Decker and his pals."

Jean peered in the living room, then looked back to the two men and said, "We're going to have to get Murdock out of there for you two to examine him. If he sticks around for that he's really going to think Hannibal might die."

"Well you're his wife," Face said, as if that was a solution

"Temporarily," she reminded him.

He pointed at her, "You should be able to come up with something to keep him occupied while we examine Hannibal."

"I'll try," was all she could promise, "But I wouldn't count on that meaning anything, you guys mean more to him than I do."

Face felt like he'd just been run through with a jagged shard of ice. That sounded eerily familiar to something Hannibal had said not long after they had announced their marriage.

They went into the living room and all of them took notice of how closely Murdock was watching the sleeping Colonel, he didn't even notice any of them entering the room and he about jumped when Jean put her hands on his shoulders to get his attention.

"Murdock," she said, "I need your help with something."

"Me?" he asked, "What?"

"Remember leaving a certain little dog here a couple months ago?" Jean asked.

"Billy!"

"That's right," she said with no enthusiasm, completely counteracting his own expression, "That dog has chewed up every table leg in this house, I thought you said he was past this stage."

"Well he should be," Murdock said as he stood up, "Where is he?"

"Upstairs under the bed, chewing up the carpeting now," she said as she took his hand and led him out of the room, "Follow me."

Face waited until they were up the stairs before he said what was on his mind, "I think Jean had the right idea with her first codename, anybody that could be married to Murdock and put up with that stuff would have to be a saint."

B.A. grunted and replied, "Saint of stupidity more like it. That sucker been released from the hospital two months now and he's still crazy."

"Aw but you would worry about him if he wasn't," Face reminded him.

B.A.'s only response to that was a low growl as he glared at Face, enough that he took the hint to back away, and he did.

"Come on," Face said, "Let's see if Hannibal's been keeping anything vital from us."


"Billy, now don't you give me that sad face, you know better than that," Murdock said as he carried Billy out from where he had been hiding under the bed, "You're not a puppy anymore, you're too old to be acting like this." He held the dog in one arm and spanked him with his free hand, only lightly though, "Bad, bad boy, I told you to behave while I was gone, and this is what you do instead?"

Jean watched him and tried not to laugh. Murdock put Billy down and sent him out of the room and told him just for that, he would be going to bed tonight without any of B.A.'s sweat socks to chew on.

"I am sorry about that, Jean," Murdock told her as he sat down beside her, "I guess Billy's just been acting out because I haven't been here lately."

"Yeah well, I can see that," she replied.

Murdock's gaze shifted to the floor for a second, he knew he'd been putting this off as long as he could. He looked up at her and said, "Yeah I guess you can…I'm sorry I haven't been around sooner. I know I should've come back to see you when we first got back to town…"

Jean shrugged dismissively, "It's alright…I haven't exactly had my days filled but I've managed to keep busy while you were gone."

Murdock saw some papers lying on the dresser and he grabbed them and said, "I see we've still got this to take care of." But he stopped when he realized that they weren't the annulment papers they'd started to fill out right before he left.

Jean looked at the papers and started to open her mouth, but she decided against saying what she had planned to. Murdock looked over the papers and saw they were letters; addressed to Jean, and signed by people whose names looked very familiar: Daniel Running Bear, Toby Griffin, Jacqueline Taylor, and the president of the Beller Air Airline. Murdock looked over to Jean and asked her, "Why are our old clients writing to you?"

"Because I wrote them first and asked them to," Jean answered, "I want to know if they're interested in writing the president and telling him all about what you guys did for them. When I was in the hospital I told Decker I was going to find some way to get the guys a presidential pardon, I'm still working on it."

"Well how did you find out where they were?" Murdock asked her.

"I have my methods," she said coyly.

"I see," Murdock replied as he glanced over the letters again, "Do you think it'll work?"

"It's worth a try," she told him, "Isn't it?"

He considered it and told her, "I don't suppose it can do any harm. Of course it could backfire and they could all face legal actions for aiding and abetting fugitives of the United States government."

"I know," Jean said, "So could I. I asked them, and the ones I've heard back from so far say they would be willing to give it a try. I figure if I can get enough of them to go to bat for you guys, the odds of it working would probably be better."

"True," he replied, "There is safety in numbers. It's a lot harder to tell a whole mob 'no' instead of just one person."

"That's the idea," Jean said, "If you're going to take on the army, you need one of your own. But don't tell the others, I don't want to get their hopes up yet incase it doesn't work."

"Your dirty little secrets are always safe with me," Murdock told her.


"Well we know Hannibal wasn't shot, he wasn't stabbed, he wasn't impaled with anything," Face told Jean later that afternoon as they were gathered in her kitchen, "It would seem that his fever was not brought on by any injuries so we lucked out there."

"And unfortunately," she replied, "Murdock has parked himself right by Hannibal's side again and I don't think he's going to move until Hannibal wakes up and can speak coherently. And how long do you think that's going to be?"

Face didn't want to think about that. "So what're we going to do?"

"He didn't get any sleep last night," Jean reminded him, "He can't possibly last again tonight, can he?"

Face laughed a couple of times and said, "You really don't know Murdock, do you? He can do anything he sets his mind to."

"But how long can he keep his eyes open?" Jean remarked, "Eventually he's going to have to wear down for the night sometime."

Face slowly nodded and said, "I hope you're right, but I don't know." He turned to the other man in the room and asked him, "What do you think, B.A.?"

On the surface, B.A. looked like he hadn't been paying attention to their conversation, but Face knew him better than that.

"I got one idea that'll put him to sleep," B.A. answered.

"What's that?" Face asked.

"They don't call it the sleeper hold for nothing," B.A. told him.

"That won't work, B.A.," Face responded, "You keep forgetting how strong you are, you'll break his neck."

He felt a finger in his shoulder and he turned around to see what Jean wanted, she pointed to herself in answer. Face shook his head, "That won't work either, you could kill him too, you're not strong like B.A. is, but you're psychotic enough for it." She said nothing but the look she gave him spoke plenty for her when he said that. Then another thought occurred to him, "Jean, do you have any sleeping pills?"

"You know I never take those things," she said.

"You don't even keep a bottle on hand for guests?" Face asked.

"This might be Hollywood but I'm not into that freaky stuff," Jean told him.

"Speaking of which," he said, "Do you have to be in at the studio tomorrow morning?"

Jean shook her head, "I'm currently in the line of blissful unemployment."

"I see," Face remarked, "Then I guess that movie we put together didn't do any good, huh?"

"Oh a little," she answered, "Hannibal was right, word of mouth made it very popular and because of that I was picked for a couple of small roles that actually talk in the movies. It's nothing solid but it was work, I can't complain. $500 a week wasn't good enough for the 3 Stooges back in the 1930s but ironically enough it's good enough for me in the here and now."

"Glad to hear it." Though there was something Face didn't like about what she had said, he didn't like the way she'd said 'Hannibal was'; he knew what Jean meant but he didn't like the idea of their Colonel being referred to in a past tense.

"Another thing, Face," Jean said, "Murdock's been fed so many pills over the years at the V.A., sleeping pills probably wouldn't even have any effect on him. Or they might have a reverse effect and just keep him up all the longer."

"Well we better come up with something," Face said, "We all need to get our sleep tonight, and unfortunately Murdock has a terrible habit of making sure nobody else sleeps when he doesn't."

"He won't do that this time," Jean shook her head, "He won't leave Hannibal's side…maybe that's it, if we told him we'd all take turns keeping an eye on Hannibal he might relax and he might willingly go to sleep tonight."

"What do you think, B.A.?" Face turned to the larger man.

"It's worth a try," B.A. answered, "It ain't the first time we slept in shifts."


Hannibal's throat was sore from dryness, his mouth felt like cotton and his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He managed to peel his tongue back and open his lips that had stuck together during the night, and opened his eyes and saw Face and B.A. standing over him, and he guessed from the light shining in the windows that it was morning.

"Hey Hannibal, how're you feeling?" Face asked.

Hannibal grabbed the glass of water left on the inn table by the bed and drank half of it before answering, "I'm alright, what's going on?"

"You don't remember?" Face asked, "You spent all night waking up and going back to sleep, and taking about a dozen pills to lower your fever. Which incidentally, I'm going to have to check again."

Hannibal didn't have any idea what Face was talking about but he complied, he opened his mouth and waited for the thermometer to make its find. When Face pulled it back he squinted to read the number, "Still at 102, at least it's down from what it was."

Hannibal looked around the room and realized B.A. and Face were the only two people there and he asked, "Where're Murdock, and Jean?"

"He's with her," Face answered, "And she is in the bathroom throwing up."

"Why, you try and kiss her?" B.A. asked and chuckled.

"No," Face replied, glaring at B.A. through one eye, he told Hannibal, "Apparently last night she and Murdock stayed up all night and stuffed themselves on popcorn and chocolate chip mint ice cream," he made a face at the very thought of that, "And apparently Murdock can hold his far better than she can."

Face wasn't sure what to make of the look on Hannibal's face, for some reason the older man seemed to be grinning at something.

"Hannibal, are you sure you're feeling alright?" Face asked.

"I'm fine," Hannibal said as he lay back against the pillow, "I just need to get some sleep."

B.A. and Face turned to each other and without a word exchanged between them, wondered what they should do now. Hannibal had already spent a better part of the last two days asleep, waking up only to swallow more pills, and in fact he hadn't even eaten anything since they'd arrived at the house. They'd managed to keep him awake long enough last night for Jean to ask him but he answered that he wasn't hungry and just went back to sleep. They had let Murdock take the first watch while the other three sat in the kitchen and discussed what they were going to do next. Jean had brought up something else; Murdock had mentioned the possibility of a tropical disease even though they hadn't been to the tropics, and she questioned if malaria might be a possibility. Face had responded that like all things, it was possible, but not likely. That was the problem, anything that could explain what was wrong with him didn't seem to fit what he actually had, and none of them were sure what the answer was.

With Hannibal asleep again, Face and B.A. quietly backed out of the living room and joined Murdock and Jean in the kitchen.

"Any better?" Jean asked.

"His fever's still at 102," Face said, "So he's doing better than he was a couple of days ago…I don't know, maybe he does just need to rest."

He inhaled, and he looked around the room and asked, "What's that smell?"

Everybody looked at him like he'd lost his mind, and Jean asked him, "What smell?"

He looked at her in surprise, "You can't smell that?"

"Smell what?" she asked.

Face couldn't answer what it was, he knew what it was but he couldn't put the words with it. After a minute he realized why he couldn't explain it; he wasn't smelling anything, he was noticing a smell that wasn't there, an odor he had known so well for so long and now it wasn't there anymore…Hannibal's cigars. It had been three days since Hannibal had smoked any cigars, and the withdrawal of that stench had suddenly hit Face like a ton of bricks. He realized why the others hadn't noticed; Murdock had been in and out of the V.A. for so many years where smoking wasn't allowed because it was a hospital, Jean didn't smoke and nobody who did, except for Hannibal, ever came to her home, and B.A. spent as much time away from the team as he did with them, the smell wasn't a part of his everyday life. It was for Face's because he spent the most time with Hannibal of them all when they weren't all together, and even if Hannibal wasn't there, Face always kept a box of his cigars on hand for the Colonel, and the last few days he hadn't even had that for the fragrance to linger around him.


Murdock wasn't posted at Hannibal's side today like he had been the day before; today he was able to get up and walk around the house and talk to the others. But the problem was it became his substitute for hovering over Hannibal, and he talked about anything that was of any relevance to anything, and when he ran out of those topics to talk about, he just started stammering on about nothing in particular. And he never stopped pacing around the house, back and forth, back and forth, they could probably set their watches by him. They tried to get him to sit down and try to relax, but nothing would work, Murdock just paced around back and forth, seemingly quicker every time he came back around, as did his mindless ramblings. Everybody knew that he was just worried about Hannibal and trying to cover it but it didn't work. Not that it mattered anyway because not only did everyone know what was on his mind, they were all sharing the same thoughts, they just didn't bother telling one another. Face wasn't sure which was the sadder sight to watch, Hannibal sick and helpless, or Murdock slowly losing his mind all over again.

Tension was already high and B.A. was gradually becoming increasingly furious with Murdock, though he had put off saying anything or doing anything about it, until it reached a point he just couldn't take it anymore. He stood up from the table and started yelling at Murdock to shut up, to stop moving back and forth, to stop everything that he was doing because he was getting on all their nerves, his especially; and started sounded off on a dozen various threats of what he was going to do to Murdock if he didn't shut up, but the pilot paid him no mind and continued walking back and forth from the kitchen down to the front hall and back.

"B.A.," Jean said as she stood up from the kitchen table, "If I got him to shut up, would you do the same thing, please?"

He didn't answer that but he did ask her, "What're you going to do?"

"Just watch me," Jean said as she picked up the broom from the corner of the kitchen and walked out after Murdock.

Face and B.A. looked at each other as they wondered what she was going to do, and then they got their answer when they heard Murdock get hit on the head, and him screaming, quickly cut off and muffled and they saw Jean walk back into the kitchen carrying the broom over her shoulder and Murdock following behind with the tip of the wooden handle in his mouth and poking against the inside of his cheek.

"Who says the 3 Stooges ain't educational?" Jean asked as she withdrew the broom handle from his mouth and told him, "Murdock, you've got to try and calm down, we're all on edge here, we're all worried about Hannibal, but this isn't helping anybody."

"Yeah, Murdock," Face stepped in, "You're going to have to find another outlet for your tension."

"I tried that already," Murdock said, and took off his baseball cap and showed them the scabs where he'd scratched his head until it bled.

"Oh Murdock," Jean said pitiably as she put her arms around him.

"Hey, I've got an idea," Face said as he reached and put a hand on Murdock's shoulder to get his attention, "We've got to bring Hannibal's fever down, right? Jean said we need to chill it out first…so what haven't we done?"

Murdock wracked his brain trying to come up with the idea.

"It's not going to be pretty," Face told him, "But I think we need to try an ice bath, nothing else seems to be working too well."

Jean laughed and replied, "There ain't enough ice in the freezer to cover him." Then she looked like she wanted to kick herself and she added, "Sorry."

"It's worth a try, Murdock," Face said. He looked to Jean and asked, "There is a bathtub in the bathroom down here, right?"

She nodded.

"Alright," Face said, "We'll try that…Jean, can you go out to the van and get Hannibal a change of clothes?"

Jean slowly nodded again and reluctantly pulled away from Murdock and headed out the back door. She opened the back doors on the van and stepped in and sorted through everything that was kept in the back and tried to determine what belonged to whom. Picking up a dirty shirt she saw something that truly made her feel sick. A brand new, unopened box of cigars. By now it had been at least three days since Hannibal had smoked a single cigar; she'd had no idea at the time how much she'd understated the obvious, the day Hannibal Smith didn't want a cigar, something terrible had happened. She dropped the box on the floor and tried to push it from her mind, and she continued hunting up enough of Hannibal's clothes to change him into after his bath. Her finger hooked onto a latch opening one of the doors of the secret compartments in the van where they kept their extra weapons; she saw several guns and about a dozen magazines stored and ready to use, and then she saw something else, two hand grenades.

Jean picked up one of the grenades and felt the weight and texture in her hand, and a thought occurred to her. A last resort, if Decker closed in on them here, or at the hospital, she would make sure they reached an understanding and he saw things her way. No matter what happened, no matter what she had to do, they would get Hannibal whatever treatment he needed, and nobody, not even the damn United States Army, was going to tell them otherwise. She slipped the grenade down in her pocket since she had a feeling she might not have the chance later, then she closed the compartment door, collected Hannibal's clothes and headed back into the house.


"Hannibal's fever is not going down," Face told Jean once he was able to get her alone for a minute, "As many pills as we've been feeding him around the clock, it should be a lot lower than it is."

"I think he might still be delirious too," Jean replied, "Every time I go in to check on him, he keeps grinning at me and touching my stomach for some reason. What do you think that's about?"

"I don't know," Face said with a dismissive shake of his head, "But I'm worried that we are going to have to get him to a hospital, I just don't know what else to do."

"I'm more worried about Murdock at the moment," Jean told him, "He never went to sleep last night, that's two nights now."

"Three," Face corrected her, "He didn't get any sleep the second night Hannibal was blowing up at us because he thought Hannibal might snap and try killing us in our sleep."

"What about that knockout stuff you always give B.A.?" Jean asked, "Couldn't you stick Murdock with a needle full of that?"

Face shook his head grimly, "It was Hannibal's turn to pick up a new batch of it and he never got around to it." Face had spent a better part of the last few days trying to keep everything together but now his own nerves were being grated down to the last thread and he was starting to get short with Jean and he sniped at her and said, "I'm usually all for avoiding medicine like the plague but this whole problem could've been solved if you just acted like every other actor in Hollywood and kept a stash of barbiturates in your house!"

"I did!" Jean snapped back at him, "When I went out last night to get the ice cream, I got a bottle of knockout pills, I tried putting them in Murdock's food but it didn't work, he didn't swallow them. That's why we were up all night gorging ourselves until I got sick, I tried slipping the pills every time he refilled his bowl but it didn't work. He had to have known…he didn't say anything but as many times as you did the same thing to B.A., he just had to know what was going on, he was too smart for it."

"I'm sorry," Face said quietly, stepping down from the argument. "Look, Murdock will be alright, but it's Hannibal that I'm worried about. He has never been like this. He's been in bed for two days, the only thing he's got the strength to do is roll over, we can barely keep him awake long enough to give him the pills and they're not working anymore. I think we need to get him to a hospital."

He heard the door behind him and he saw Murdock and B.A. standing in the kitchen doorway, apparently they had heard his last comment.

"Like I said before," Jean told them, "I'll put him in my car, I'll take him in, you guys won't have to run the risk of being seen."

"No way," B.A. shook his head as he walked over to her, "This is Hannibal we're talking about, if one of us goes then we all go."

"What if somebody tips off Decker that you're there?" Jean asked.

"Let them," Murdock told her, "Let Decker come, let Crane come, let Lynch come, let the whole damn army come, we're not leaving our Colonel."

There was something in Murdock's voice as he spoke that made Jean realize just how seriously they were all taking this; something changed in her eyes and she looked up at him and only nodded her head in agreement and surrender, "Fine, we'll all go, we'll take him in, and do what? What are we going to tell the staff there? What story could we possibly tell them that they wouldn't get suspicious?" The answer came almost as quick as the question, "I've got it."

"That was fast," Face noted.

"Remember a year back Hannibal had that plan for when we checked into that hotel as the eccentric Tuttle family?" Jean asked them.

A light bulb went off over Murdock's head and he turned to Face, who was putting the answer together, but already he looked like he wasn't going to like it.