Murdock looked himself in the mirror and saw just how coated in blood his shirt was and he could see why the others had freaked out earlier. If he didn't know it was fake he guessed he would've been pretty worried by the sight of it as well.

"You think this stuff will come out?" he asked Jean.

"I doubt it'll fully come out," she replied as she turned off the taps to the bathtub, "It's all dried by now anyway so it's probably permanent, but there's one way to find out."

"Hey Saint," Murdock said as he touched the front of his sticky shirt, "What do you think they make this stuff out of anyway?"

"I'm not sure we want to know," she answered as she pulled off her shoes, "Take your shoes off, and your jacket."

"What's this?" Murdock asked as he untied his Chuck Taylors, "Practicing baptizing?"

"Something like that," she answered as she put one foot up on the edge of the tub, "Come on."

Murdock went over to the tub and stepped up onto the side of it with her, and told her, "Looks like it'll be a tight fit."

"Oh these tubs are big enough for two people easy," Jean told him, "Maybe more if they're creative enough, ready?"

Murdock held his nose and answered, "Ready."

They stepped off the edge and landed in the steaming hot water. Despite the movie blood on their clothes being dry, the water did start to turn a reddish hue before they even surfaced.

Murdock hissed contentedly as he emerged in the water and said, "Now this is nice, after the day we've had."

"Agreed, after today I think a little sterilization is in order," Jean remarked from where she was reclined at the other end of the tub, "How're your hands?"

"Mine are fine, what about yours?" Murdock asked her.

Jean held hers up and showed the bloody marks where the glass had been taken out, "Burning nicely." She lowered it into the water and hissed like a king cobra as the cuts exposed to the hot water stung her. She started laughing, a bit hysterically if anything, and she said, "I guess we went kind of crazy today, eh?"

"So what's new?" Murdock asked, "I'm always crazy, you know that."

"I'm starting to believe it," she replied, "I think you have to be crazy to make it through this life." She started to laugh harder as she said, "You should've seen the look on Russo's face when I smashed his windshield and jerked his head down towards the steering wheel, he could hardly see where he was going!" She covered her mouth with her good hand as her whole body started to convulse with laughter.

Murdock reached over and asked her, "You feeling alright, sweetheart?"

"Yeah I'm fine," she said as she started to calm down, "But boy you should've seen it, it was fantastic, I wish we'd had the camera going for that one. Hey!" she thought of something and bobbed up in the water, "That briefcase you got away from Russo, what happened to it?"

"Hannibal got it," he answered, "It was locked so he's having Face work his magic on it."

"I wonder what's in it?" Jean asked.

"I doubt it's his lunch," Murdock said.

There was a knock on the bathroom door and they heard Face's muffled voice ask, "Murdock, you in there?"

"Yeah, Faceman, come on in," he said.

The door opened and Face stepped in and when he saw the two of them in the tub he doubled back around and said, "Whoa! Excuse me," and headed back for the door.

"Face, get back here," Jean told him as she pulled herself up, "What is it?"

By now the shock had worn off and Face managed to say what he had originally come in to say, with as little stammering as possible, "We got the briefcase open, and it's got about two hundred grand in it."

Murdock whistled and commented, "That'll buy a lot of nose powder."

"So what's the plan?" Jean asked.

Face laughed and said, "If this doesn't get Decker out of the hospital, nothing will. Hannibal has called every mechanic garage in the area as Colonel Decker informing them to call here if they get any 1967 Continentals with a broken windshield and a missing door handle because we believe the man who has the car may be connected to an Iranian terrorist group."

"Oh are they getting back together again?" Murdock asked.

"Anyway, if this guy takes his car anywhere to be repaired, we ought to find out about it very soon," Face added.

"Ingenious, but did you have to give them my number?"

"We didn't," he replied, "They'll call the mobile phone in the van."

Jean closed one eye and squinted the other at him and asked, "They think 555-6162 is a direct line to the army?"

"All they need to know is that it's a number connecting them directly to Decker," Face said, "They call us, we move in and catch Russo, and from there I'm sure he'll be only too happy to cooperate and stab his partner in the back so we can catch her too."

"And in the meantime we just wait?" Jean asked.

"That's right," Face answered.

Jean looked at Murdock and they seemed to be contemplating the same thing.


"So much for having the house to ourselves," Jean told Murdock that night as they got ready for bed.

Murdock shrugged as he pulled the pillows off the top of the bed to pull the covers back and said, "I don't mind it."

"I guess I don't either," she replied, "Except I was hoping we'd finally have one night alone together in this house."

"All in good time, my dear," Murdock told her.

He yanked the bedspread down and saw that some of the threads in the middle had given way and a hole had formed in it. "Hey Saint, I think you need to start clipping your toenails before you go to bed."

"That's been there," Jean said, "It started wearing out about a month ago."

"So why don't you get it replaced?" Murdock asked as he put the pillows back and climbed in.

"I'm going to," she said, "But you guys don't get the freezing winters here like back home, so I figure it can wait a while. Besides, it's on my side of the bed anyway."

Jean slipped in alongside him and pulled the covers up and settled in beside him. Murdock closed his eyes and turned over and thought he'd be able to fall asleep soon, but he felt something rough scratching his legs. He opened one eye, then the other, and looked over at Jean and asked her, "Is that you?"

"Is what me?" she tiredly responded.

Murdock pulled his head under the covers and burrowed down to the foot of the bed and felt the bottom of her feet, they were both rough and starting to crack. Murdock resurfaced at the top and asked her, "Don't you have any lotion to put on those porcupine quills?"

Jean pointed over to the nightstand on his side of the bed. Murdock grabbed the bottle and looked at the label, it was a cheap brand, highly watered down, and definitely a matter of you got what you paid for. He held it up questioningly and said to her, "Now you don't mean to tell me this is the best you can do."

"For the time being it is," Jean answered and watched as Murdock pulled her side of the covers down, "It's like I told you, I haven't been able to find much work and the money's been tight."

Murdock hawed under his breath as he squeezed the lotion onto his hands and rubbed it onto her feet, "Yeah, money's tight and those goons got $200,000 in that briefcase downstairs alone, now how does that work?"

"I don't know," Jean replied, flinching as Murdock tickled the ball of one foot, "But I'd rather be poor and clean than rich and with their kind of blood on my hands."

"Agreed," Murdock said as he lightly tickled the toes on her other foot and watched her kick. He smiled mischievously and crawled back up to the top of the bed.

"Murdock, I got a question for you," Jean said, "If things had been different, and we didn't have to get married like we did, would you still have married me?"

He thought about it for a minute and said, "If you'd still asked, I think so. What about you? If you had it to do over again, would you have married me?"

Jean shook her head, "I never would've married, period, just not my style."

"Oh ho," Murdock grinned.

She smiled knowingly in return, "Not like that…I don't like anybody, I wouldn't want to be stuck with anybody for life."

"Ah, then you haven't been breaking out your little black book while I was gone," he said.

"Don't have one," she said, "I haven't gone out with anybody since I moved out here, and I never did back home either, I told you, I just don't like anyone."

"You like me, don't you?" he asked.

"I married you, of course I like you," she said, "You're different."

"Story of my life," he replied.

Jean looked up at him and said tiredly, "I never would've married anybody if I had it to do over again, but I'm glad I did this because I really enjoyed it."

"Me too, darling," Murdock leaned over and kissed her on her forehead, "Me too."

"Murdock, I got another question for you," Jean said, "Decker aside…why did you marry me?"

"Because you asked," he answered.

She smiled weakly and said, "Why would you pick me though? You know when you get down to it, we're nothing alike."

"Now how do you figure that?" he asked her.

She sat up and explained, "Let's start with the obvious, shall we? You're nice, and I'm not."

"Ah you just don't like showing it, just like B.A.," Murdock told her.

"You're a good person, Murdock," she said, "But I meant what I told Decker, all I'm good for is destroying things, and people."

"It comes with the territory," he replied, "Trust me, you get used to it after a while."

Of course he knew that she was wrong. For some reason Jean didn't see it, but he did. Shortly after they'd gotten home, the first thing she had done was get a bottle of peroxide to pour over the cuts on his hands. Usually he could put up with the burn, no problem, this time however he felt like salt was being poured on his hands and he screamed. Jean jumped back and about had a heart attack at his response, "Sorry!" she'd screamed in a panic, "I'm so sorry."

He sighed as he watched his hands foam up and he'd told her, "It's alright, I know you had to do it, and look, aren't they a nice shade of white now?"

"More of that soldier talk," Jean said, "I ain't any soldier."

"Well now I wouldn't say that," Murdock got out of the bed and went over to the closet and pushed all the hangers aside until he found what he was looking for, and took out her jacket. The jacket that had one of each of their medals that they'd given to her before returning her to New York with her family, the jacket with her name on it along with the rank of Corporal.

"Whose idea was that anyway?" Jean asked.

"Hannibal's," Murdock answered, "He came up with the whole plan, as usual."

"Of course," she remarked, "He always does."


The next day came and there hadn't been any calls to the phone in the van. Late in the morning Hannibal found himself in the semi-private company of Murdock, who was trying to tell him something but Hannibal had a feeling that something was lost in the translation.

"I'm not sure how this works, Hannibal, maybe it's one of those things that falls under marital privilege, or maybe not, or maybe if I would've found out about this a week ago it would've been alright, I'm not sure…"

"Murdock, calm down, what is it?" Hannibal asked.

"Well it's about Jean."

"Ah," he said as he reached into his pocket for a cigar, "And what about Jean?"

"Well…" Murdock suddenly looked like a kid that had been caught red-handed doing something that would earn him a whooping, "I was curious about something, so I checked Jean's financial records."

"Any particular reason?" Hannibal asked.

"Just curiosity…she's got a few thousand dollars in a bank account, but I found out that's just a bare minimum for emergencies."

"Ah-ha," Hannibal said knowingly, "She doesn't trust banks, smart kid. So what does she do, just keep the money laying around the house?"

"No," Murdock shook his head, "I found out she keeps most of it invested in a Bible college down south."

"A what?" Hannibal asked.

"Apparently investing in the church gets better interest than the bank," Murdock answered, "Anyway…I probably did some things I shouldn't have, but I found out that Jean withdrew a lot of money over the past few weeks, but I don't know what it went for. It can't be anything in the house," and he explained about what he'd found out last night.

"Hmmm," Hannibal seemed to give the matter some serious thought, "Has she said what she did with the money?"

Murdock shook his head, "She doesn't know that I know."

Hannibal nodded understandingly.

"I'm not sure what she'd do if I told her, Hannibal, I mean nothing was a joint account, so I guess even if we were still married I still wouldn't have any right to know about any of it," Murdock said, "I just couldn't figure it out. You know, she had all that drug money left over from…" he didn't finish the thought, he didn't need to, Hannibal just nodded, "And I don't know where it is because apparently she didn't have anywhere near that much invested to begin with, but what'd she take all that other money out for?"

"Where is she now?" Hannibal asked.

"Down in the kitchen I think," Murdock answered.

Hannibal stood up and told Murdock he'd take care of the matter, and went downstairs to find Jean. She was alone in the kitchen, with her back to him as she checked the contents of the fridge. Hannibal cleared his throat to announce his presence and when Jean turned around he just smiled and asked, "Finally reached the starving actor's point, eh?"

"I'm making a list, I know we're about out of everything," she said as she shut the door.

"Jean, I need to talk to you about something," Hannibal told her.

"What is it?" she asked as she walked over to him.

Hannibal reached into a pocket on his jacket and told her, "The other night when you and Murdock came to my apartment, do you remember you had a jacket on that night? Well, something fell out of the pocket and I found it the next day."

Jean gazed down and saw what he was holding in his hand, several money orders with her name on them, the amounts Hannibal had added up already and knew they amounted to over $5,000.

"Did you tell the others?" she asked.

"No, I figured until I knew what it was about, that it would just be between the two of us," he said, "You don't need me to tell you that if you're involved in something illegal, a monetary amount of this size bypasses any and all misdemeanors straight into felony territory."

"It's not that," Jean shook her head.

"Well I'm listening," Hannibal said.

Jean sat down at the table and looked down at the linoleum top and asked him, "Would you believe me if I said it's for Murdock?"

"Is it?" he asked.

"Yes," she looked up at him.

"What is it exactly?" Hannibal asked.

Jean lowered her gaze again so she looked straight ahead and said, "I had an idea, shortly after we got married. I figured Murdock was going to be living here anyway, hell, he was my husband…I thought it would be a nice surprise for him."

"What would?" Hannibal asked.

She cocked her head to the side and glanced at him as she explained, "I figured since I had that empty storage room upstairs, and I don't use it for anything, that it could become a game room…his game room. That's what the money was for, I got the names of the companies that make those arcade games like the ones he had in his room at the hospital, and I was going to buy them and have them put up in that room, for him."

"You're serious," Hannibal said, intending it to be a question but it came out as a statement instead.

"Sure," Jean told him, "Why not? He's a free man now, he ought to have what he wants…" she looked at the table again as she added, "I took the money out and figured I could put it back when I started working again, but that hasn't been happening too much. That's why I wanted to get that role for Area X because the pay's good, in a few weeks I can put back all the money I took out and nobody would be the wiser. That was the plan anyway."

Hannibal looked at the money orders in his hand and asked her, "Exactly how much has it cost you?"

"Enough," she answered bluntly, "No matter, I got it paid off, I'll get it put back, just like the money for your operation. You ever read McTeague, Hannibal? I can be just as miserly as Trina when I have to be, and with work the way it's been I have had to be after doing this…you guys weren't around for so long, and when you did come we had other things to worry about, that's why Murdock hasn't caught on until now…but there's no point in hell to having all the money in the world if you can't use it to someone else for some good."

Hannibal wasn't sure what to say for a minute.

"So, you going to tell him or what?" Jean asked.

"You're still willing to do this when you two aren't even married anymore?" Hannibal asked.

"Yes," she answered without missing a beat, "Because Murdock is my friend, he's about the only friend I've got, and this is something nice I can do for him, I get the feeling that he hasn't had a lot of that over the years, you know?"

Hannibal nodded. "I know, and you're right, unfortunately people are just as likely to be scared off by Murdock's…eccentric behavior as they are to like him for it."

Jean laughed once and said, "Rich people are eccentric, when you're like us you're just weird…crazy," she amended herself.

Jean suddenly doubled over against the table, clutching her stomach and moaning.

"What's wrong?" Hannibal asked her.

Jean swallowed heavily and answered, "It's my stomach again."

Hannibal looked at her questioningly and said, "You know, you don't look so good."

Jean glared at him through one eye and snapped, "I'm short and I'm young, what were you expecting, Clara Bow?"

Hannibal asked her, "When was the last time you saw a doctor?"

"In the hospital," Jean groaned, "After Decker's car exploded."

Hannibal reached out with one hand and yanked her chair back and helped her up, "Come on, we're going to get you looked at."

"I'm not having that Maggie chick examine me," Jean said.

"No problem, there's a free clinic nearby," Hannibal told her, "I happen to know they're good at keeping their mouths shut when it counts."

"I don't want to go," Jean said.

"You've been puking your guts up off and on since we got back in town," he told her, "There's no way you're not going."

Jean glared up at him and said, "You're not going to be happy until they announce it's morning sickness, are you?"

Hannibal laughed and said to her, "Come on now, he's not going to hurt you."

"Oh yes he will," Jean replied as she dragged her feet behind him, "That's all they ever do. And you stay out of the room."

"Alright," he agreed.

"I've already had enough weird men standing around looking at me than I care to remember," Jean said.


The doctor who saw Jean turned out to be a woman in her late 30s, and, after a lengthy session in an examination room, she came out to speak to Hannibal since he had taken the liberty of putting himself down as her father, and had also taken the liberty of making Jean a few years younger than she actually was.

"Well, do you have any idea what's wrong with her?" he asked.

"She's definitely feeling poorly," the doctor told him, "She's been screaming for ipecac."

"She wants to be sick, why?" Hannibal asked.

"Something she ate didn't agree with her and she said it's like a 20 pound weight pressing on her stomach," the doctor explained.

"Any idea what it is?"

"Yeah, I had her run through what she's been eating for the last few days, and speaking as a physician in my professional opinion, it's all junk," she said.

Hannibal thought back the last couple of days, he remembered that the refrigerator had been on the better side of empty for a while, and he also remembered that they'd put off getting groceries and just picked up pizza and burgers for lunch and dinner and he said, "That's probably my fault, you see…her brothers and I have been visiting with her and I'm afraid none of us are much for home cooking, so we've mainly just been ordering in."

"Well it's coming back on her now," the doctor told him, "I'd say that it's her body's way of telling her to lay off the fast food and eat something with a little more sustenance."

"If you don't mind, doctor, I do have a couple of questions before we leave," Hannibal said, "This apparently has been happening for a while, is there any chance that she's making herself sick? I mean she works in movies, so is there a possibility she's doing this to keep her weight down, like jockeys do?"

The doctor shook her head, "If she was, she's new at it, I found no signs of long term damage from excessive vomiting."

"Alright, my next question," Hannibal said, "Is there any possibility that she's pregnant?"

The doctor smiled at him and shook her head, "No, we did those tests too, and I don't mind telling you your daughter was a terrible patient for them."

"I guess it's understandable," Hannibal said, "She told me she wasn't but…" he shrugged, "Anymore, how do you know?"

"Your daughter hasn't been with any boys," it wasn't so much a question, it sounded as if the doctor knew.

"Not to the best of my knowledge," he answered.

"And not to the best of mine either," the doctor told him, "Nothing I could find anyway."

Hannibal smiled, "I guess the next time she tells me something, I can take her word for it."

"Well I'd say she's lucky," she said to Hannibal, "A lot of girls like her come in here alone, it's always a matter of either they don't have anybody to help them, or don't think they can tell them."

"Well…I am her father," Hannibal said, right now he believed every word of that as he added, "I can't help worrying about her, I want to make sure she's alright. But you're sure it couldn't be anything else?"

"How long has this been happening, Mr. Mattox?" the doctor asked.

Hannibal almost laughed at the name, it was the one Jean used when she went to the hospital so it made sense to use it here as well. "Well, a couple weeks ago she spent the night throwing up, but I figured that was from all the popcorn and ice cream she ate. And then a couple days later, I had an appendicitis and I'm told she threw up again shortly after I was wheeled off to surgery. That one though I guess we can attribute to stress." The doctor nodded. "And then, a few days ago she seemed to have a 24 hour case of stomach flu, I'm told that's been going around."

The doctor nodded again and said, "We've had a lot of them in here. But I'd say in your daughter's case, take her home and just make sure that her diet for the next couple of days is something bland. If she's not better after that, bring her in again and we'll run some more tests, but in my opinion her body is just rebelling against too much junk in a short amount of time." She gave him a knowing wink and said, "I have kids too, this isn't the first time I've seen this."

Hannibal couldn't help laughing in response. When the doctor left to see another patient, Hannibal went to the payphone and called the house and told Face and Murdock what he'd found out. A few minutes later Jean came out into the waiting room looking like she wanted to kill him.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

Jean went over to him and said, "The next time we come here I'm going to tell them to examine you, see how much you like it."

Hannibal chuckled and asked her, "You feeling any better?"

"Yeah I suppose so," she said as she looked down to the floor, "I got sick again."

Hannibal put his arm around her and pulled her against him and told her, "Come on, I told Murdock about your current condition and he's making something special for dinner tonight."

Jean groaned and shoved her face into his shoulder. As they walked out of the clinic, Jean looked to where they parked her car, and she poked Hannibal in the stomach and told him, "Look over there!"

He did, and he saw the same woman who had escaped from their clutches at the airport.

"Let's get her," Jean said, starting to charge.

"Wait," Hannibal said as he jerked her back.

"What? Why?" Jean asked.

They looked as the woman got into a white corvette convertible and drove off, Hannibal nudged Jean to get into their car and he drove them out of there, but in the opposite direction, back to her house.

"Why didn't we go after her?" Jean asked.

"Because she will wait," Hannibal answered, "Right now my main concern is with you. You're not well and you're in no condition to go chasing that skirt all over the city with."

"But Hannibal…"

"Besides," he cut her off, "I can have Face run her plate number through the DMV and we can find out who owns the car, something just tells me that it's her own toy, and at the very least we'll find a different alias to look for her under, best case scenario is we'll get her actual name this time, and from there we'll find out where she lives."

He cocked his head to the side and saw Jean staring at him in disbelief and he smiled and said, "Just because we go through the front door doesn't mean we always blast the door down to show ourselves in. Sometimes you just have to come delivering the ice and they'll open it for you."

"More of your Mr. Lee philosophy?" Jean asked.

"Oh something like that," he answered.

"Hannibal," Jean said to him, "How long do you think you can keep that front going? Don't you think sooner or later your clients are going to realize that Mr. Lee's laundry is not run by a little Chinese man named Lee, but by an Irishman named Lee Bowman?"

Hannibal laughed and replied, "That's why we always send them there early in the morning when Bowman is open but out making deliveries."


Upon returning to the house, Hannibal and Jean were greeted at the front door by Murdock and Face, who was giving them advanced warning on dinner. Murdock had decided to make chicken soup, and while he'd kept as close of an eye on the pilot as was possible while he was cooking, he couldn't guarantee what was in it.

"How're you feeling, Saint?" Murdock asked.

"Lousy, but I'll live," she answered as she walked past him.

"I got a little treat made for you," he said.

"Oh Murdock," Jean covered her mouth.

"It's alright, it's alright," he told her as he got ahead of her and picked up a small dish off the dining room table.

Jean laughed when she saw what he was holding, a plain vanilla sundae, no hot fudge, no whipped cream, no cherry on top, just several scoops of vanilla ice cream, heavily decorated with pieces of peppermint.

"If that don't soothe your stomach, nothing will," he told her.

Jean laughed as she took the bowl and said, "Thanks, Murdock, I really appreciate it."

"Face," Hannibal pulled the lieutenant off to another part of the house were they wouldn't be interrupted and gave him a piece of paper with some numbers on it and said, "I need you to work your magic with the Department of Motor Vehicles and find out who owns the car with this license plate."

"How come?" Face asked.

"When we were leaving the doctor's office, we saw that woman getting into this car," Hannibal said, "I'm tired of these games, I want to find out who she is and where she is so she won't see us coming."

"Alright, but when I find it, what do we do?" Face asked him.

"We're going to find her and drag her in, with, or without Russo, we can get him separately," Hannibal told him.

"Alright, but what about Jean?" Face asked, "Do we take her with us when we find out?"

"No," Hannibal replied, "Let her rest, we'll take care of this one ourselves."

"Which leaves the question," Face said, "What are we going to do with her? I mean, I know she's in this just as much as those idiots we busted at the base, but I just don't think I have it in me to hit a girl."

"She's not a girl, Face," Hannibal told him, "She is a cold blooded, calculative piece of work, and she's in trouble because she doesn't know that the four of us are going to be on her like Jaws on a Christmas roast."

Face nodded and said, "I'll go call the DMV, what kind of car was it?"

"A white corvette convertible," Hannibal answered.

"Hmmm...I wonder if they'll believe she rear ended me and just drove off…hit my car with that car and wouldn't the damages be about the same?"

"But if she was drunk, she wouldn't notice it," Hannibal said.

"Right, but if she just tore out of there, how would I know she was drunk?" Face asked.

"Oh…say by the way she made her getaway on a sidewalk and across three lawns in the process?" Hannibal asked.

Face considered it, and grinned, "I like the way you think, Hannibal."