Since it's been a while (shame on me), let me remind you: We have left Face and Murdock, both drunk, together in a hotelroom in a bed. And Murdock kind of confessed his love for Face. All caught up, I hope ...

"Why do you love me?" Face asked in a whisper at Murdock's collarbone.

"What?" Murdock had gone deeper than he'd realised and needed a moment to wake fully.

"I have to ask now. Tomorrow I won't dare anymore, but tonight I'm drunk enough. And I want to know. So why?"

"No idea," Murdock answered honestly.

"There must be a reason," Face insisted, moving a little. Murdock tightened his embrace a bit. He didn't want Face to move away from him. It did him good, did them both good.

"I..." Murdock let the sentence die. Why do you love somebody in the first place? Because he's good looking? Because he's got a fine sense of humour? Because he's charming? Because he's available? Why? Murdock sighed. "I guess it's just the click."

"Click?"

"Yeah, that click inside you. You see someone, and there it is, like a light being switched on inside you. And after that you simply know that you're connected to that person in some karmic way."

"Karmic way..." Face sounded slightly ironic.

"Well, I know, karmic is not Christian terminology, but still it happens to Christians also. I mean, I'm a Christian myself, and it clicked."

"And you knew..." It was not really a question, rather thinking aloud.

"Right." Murdock nodded.

"How do you know it's love and not, let's say, hate?"

"Don't know. Guess it's like..." Murdock thought for a moment. "I guess it's like different colours of light. The click switches on a light, and then, whatever colour it is, you just know."

Face didn't answer this. He only cuddled a little closer. "Night, Murdock."

"Night, Face."

Murdock felt Face's head on his shoulder again. He felt him breathing against his chest, felt warm, moist air brushing his neck and silk-like hair tickling his cheek. He felt Face's body, so close to his own. They were heating each other up, but he sort of liked that. "My Gold," he mouthed. Face stirred slightly, so Murdock shut his mouth again. He didn't want to catch Face's attention. Not with what was roaming his mind. It was a poem he'd once read and he thought it fit with the situation just perfectly.

Rest in my arms, at night, when you sleep.
My birds of honour will guide your dreams,
my birds of dignity will guide you back
into sparkling wakeness, my Gold
Over the bridge we'll walk together
with my birds of esteem ahead
and my wings of fondness will always embrace you
to comfort and shelter, my Gold.

Face woke early in the morning. He'd had a peaceful night without nightmares or even disturbing dreams. Something warm was at his back. Sunlight, coming through the window? But then he remembered it was Murdock, not the sun. And Murdock's arm was lying leisurely around his waist. Face didn't dare to move. What would Murdock do, when he found himself that close to his friend? So unnaturally close. Face didn't know and didn't want to know. He wanted to revel in this embrace as long as he could, so he just lay, drifting somewhere between sleeping and waking. He let his thoughts run free. They were all circling around Murdock. He was so sweet, yes, really sweet. He was so caring, so concerned. Everything bothered him. And... love. What exactly had Murdock meant by it? That "click-theory" was not really satisfying. People don't have switches inside them that go click. It felt a 100% Murdock, though. Hey, that man was seeing an invisible dog, so why not switches that go click? And it did have something romantic about it.

Leslie... Had he felt a click with her? No. Had he with Murdock? No. Now there was something to think about. If they were connected by karma and the click was the symptom, they should both feel it, shouldn't they?

But Murdock's warmth at his back, the arm around him... It distracted him again. He remembered last night. Last night they had been lying face to face. Almost, at least. Murdock had said wonderful things to him. 'No, he hadn't,' some voice in the background of his consciousness interrupted, 'he had said nonsense things.' 'Ok, ok, ok,' Face thought in response, 'he had said things in a wonderful way.' His voice had been soft and full of acceptance, had been soaked with it really. Face knew, in these minutes Murdock would have accepted just about everything. That voice. Murdock had an extraordinary voice. He could make it sound anything from child-like to erotic. Yesterday...

Face had no idea what to call yesterday's voice. It had been neither of the two and yet both, and at the same time something else entirely as well. It had been like all of Murdock's possible voices rolled into one.

Hannibal dressed slowly. He was still tired. The meeting with the generals had taken quite some time and had been exhausting. Futile discussions for the most part, but he'd had to stay. He had come to the hotel only short before midnight. He wondered what had happened to Murdock and Face, for when he had come to check in, the receptionist had told him there were no new guests. Apparently they were having a good time, like he'd wished them. Maybe a bar or/and a girl. Still, they'd better be there at 0600, as appointed.

In another room Murdock woke up, because someone moved in his arms. Face. He had slept in his arms the whole night. The poem came back to his mind. Or maybe it was still there, he had fallen asleep with it lingering on. It just so incredibly perfectly matched Face. My Gold. What else, if not that, could describe him?

Face got up. He had to, it was time. They were to meet Hannibal at 0600 and it was now... three minutes to six. "Murdock?" he asked softly, his voice sounding too loud and misplaced in his own ears.

"What?"

Murdock's sounded just fine. "Three minutes till we have to meet Hannibal. So hurry up."

Murdock nodded and sat up. There was plenty of time, he thought. Since they'd slept in their fatigues, all they had to do was get up, put on their boots and walk downstairs.

"How do I look?" Face asked, quickly running his hands through his hair.

"Pretty, just like you always do," Murdock answered. And he couldn't hide a smile, when Face wiped his cheeks and drew a face.

"I need a shaving," he complained.

"Oh, a little stubble gives you a somewhat masculine touch," Murdock mocked.

"Somewhat masculine?!"

But Murdock only grinned broadly and slipped into his boots.

"What you mean, somewhat masculine? – Murdock!"

Murdock had left the room.

Hannibal was waiting in the lobby. Face and Murdock had 27 seconds left. He wasn't petty in general, but sometimes... God, he was just tired. Too little sleep usually wore on him. 19 seconds.

"Murdock, come on, tell me!" Hannibal turned to the stairs and saw Murdock appear, closely followed by Face.

"Just in time, guys. I was already scheming punishment."

"Aw, Hannibal, you didn't really expect us to be late, did you?" Murdock asked, totally ignoring Face. As for why he ignored him, he had no idea himself. Some pigheaded contact had taken over control and he didn't want to know about Face or anything that had happened last night. Murdock sighed inside.

"Well, I wasn't all too sure. When I heard you hadn't checked in at midnight I lost hope. When did you check in?"

"Strictly speaking, we didn't at all." Murdock put the key on the counter and some cash beside it. "There was no one there to ask." Murdock started giggling. "We were just 'requisitioning'..."

"Glad to see you've been having a good time, Captain," Hannibal commented wryly. "Now let's get going."