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perpetual_motionTitle: You Don't Need Analyzing (It is Not So Surprising)
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: A-Team (TV)
Pairing: Amy/Murdock
Rating: PG
Word Count: 38060 (Roughly 12,000 words a part)
Summary: A year after Jakarta, Amy's got a nice life, and then it goes sideways.
Dis: Lies and bullshit.
Author's Notes: Many, many thanks toaithine, who did a fantastic beta job on this monster. And love to lasergirl for enabling me to write this monster. The title comes from the Irving Berlin song "(I Wonder Why) You're Just in Love," which I can completely imagine Murdock singing at top, Ethel-Merman volume to show his affection.
Part One | Part Two
Decker's men were posted at the entrance when I got back to my building. They didn't meet my eyes, didn't try to start a conversation. Decker himself was waiting outside my apartment door, talking into a wrist mike. He didn't try to hide it when I walked up. The gloves were off, then.
“Three times in twenty-four hours,” he greeted me, “members of the A-Team have been spotted on the premises. Once, they've been seen exiting your apartment.”
“And?” I prompted as he moved aside to let me in the door. He didn't follow right away, and I raised my eyebrows. “Are you actually going to wait for an invitation?”
He worked his jaw back and forth. “My men…” He paused and cleared his throat. I'd heard him yell down Hannibal without a pause. Whatever was bothering him, it wasn't the team. “I got reports from my men that the gentleman you're seeing left with suitcases about an hour ago.”
He said it in a rush, clipping the ends of his words. It took a moment for it to sink in. “What?” I asked. I hadn't actually expected Wayne to work so fast. I thought he'd pick up the essentials and come back for the rest. I held up a hand before he could repeat it. “Nevermind.”
Decker worked his jaw again. “Miss Allen,” he started, “I follow the orders I'm given because I believe in the laws and rules of this country, but I would like to…” He didn’t quite fidget, but he adjusted his shoulders, “I would like to apologize if the tactics I took in discerning answers regarding the A-Team caused issues in your personal life.”
I blinked at him. When I blinked harder, he was still there. I opened the door wide and gestured him in. “Whiskey?” I offered.
“I shouldn't—”
“All of your sightings have been correct,” I said. I wasn't certain why, maybe to thank him for the apology. “And that's all I'll tell you about what I know about their activities, because that's all I know about their activities.”
He sized me up. I didn't move. Lynch had been a full-on idiot, sent out—I was still convinced—to amuse the people who had to work with him, but Decker had always had a shrewd sense of reading people. He nodded after a moment and followed me inside.
“I didn't come in while you were away,” he said, and I recognized it as a reciprocal piece of information to my admission that the team had been by. “You're a person of interest, but you're not quite that interesting.”
“And I trashed your last bugs.”
He rearranged his shoulders again but didn't confirm that he knew. I could see why he and Hannibal worked so well against each other, both military men to the bone, able to see and predict movement, but not above cheating where it was needed. “They were here? You're confirming that?”
“What's it get me if I do?” I asked as I reached for the whiskey. I poured us both an inch and set the glasses on the kitchen table. He sat down with the careful movements of a man who'd been trained not to wrinkle his uniform.
“Technically, I could bring you in for questioning.” He watched me sit down, and I watched him as he glanced down the hall behind me, probably expecting the guys to stick their heads out and wave. “Given the circumstances—”
“Colonel,” I interrupted, “don't put on the kid gloves now. It's boring.”
Decker gave me another once over. “Lynch hated you,” he said after a moment.
“He couldn't get you to admit to anything.”
“Lynch was an idiot,” I responded and sipped my whiskey. “And I've only admitted to what you know is true. They were here. You saw them.”
“Where have they been?”
“I have no idea.”
“Why did Wayne leave with his things?”
I considered laying the blame on Decker and his men, trying to guilt him into leaving the team alone for a little bit, but I couldn't do it. It wouldn't be honest, and even if his discussion with Wayne had been the lynchpin, it still wouldn't have erased my lying. “We broke up,” I said. “He got a very sudden, unexpected look at what I used to do, and he decided he'd rather not be part of it.”
“It's in the past. It shouldn't matter.”
I held back a smile at his decisive tone. “He didn’t know anything about it. When Murdock showed up last night, I lied through my teeth. Wayne really thought he was Bob who worked in insurance.”
Decker considered that for a moment. “You're being very candid,” he said.
I shrugged. “I'm not telling you anything you don't already know.”
“I could take you in for this, you know. I could take you to a military prison.”
I laughed, a little longer than necessary for my amusement, but it made me feel better, so I let it run a little loose. “One,” I said, holding up a finger, “they've already broken out of one and coming after me would be a vacation.” Decker didn't quite smile, but his lips twitched in acknowledgement. “And two,” I continued, holding up another finger, “you wouldn't dare.”
He cocked his head at me. “And why is that?”
“I don't know where they're staying. I don't know what they've been doing. I had had no contact with them for a year until Murdock showed up last night. And you,” I pointed a finger at his chest, “aren't going to waste time and resources on me in this situation.” You're not Lynch, I didn't say out loud, but I could see Decker knew I was thinking it.
“It's still something I need to investigate,” Decker argued. “They've contacted you again after an absence we thought was permanent. Their attachment to you—”
“Is not something you want to use as leverage.”
Decker shook his head. “I wasn't going to suggest that at all. I'm aware of what they're capable of when they think one of the team is in trouble. I have no wish to bring that rage down on myself or my men.”
I considered that, and I considered what I'd already told him. I considered Wayne leaving and Murdock showing up and the team rallying around me. The jazz spiked my blood in a hard rush, and I let it take over, let myself be fully reckless for the first time in months. “If I give you a full statement,” I said, “if I tell you absolutely everything I know right now, what's in it for me?”
Decker's eyes narrowed. He leaned forward in his chair a little. “What are you saying?”
“You know what I'm saying.”
“Miss Allen, I make it a point to never know what anyone's saying until they say it.”
“I have possible leads,” I told him. “A few phone numbers, a few names. What's in it for me?”
“You're giving them up?” Decker tapped his fingers on the table and shook his head. “You're not,” he declared. “You're not.”
“Everything I have,” I offered again. “Every detail from the last thirty-six hours, and I'll repeat it as many times as you want.”
“You're an upstanding citizen, Miss Allen,” Decker replied. “You've got a good job, and a nice apartment, and you're well-respected. If you're thinking—”
“An offer,” I interrupted. “Right now.”
“If you run off with them, if we can link you to them properly, you'd be a fugitive—a military fugitive. It's one thing to have supposed ties with them, but to—”
“Colonel, I'm a grown woman in charge of my own life.” I waited a beat for him to reply. He simply watched me. “I made my choice when I first met them. They made my choice when I came back. I'm making my choice now.”
We sat in silence for nearly a minute, staring each other down. I felt completely calm. All the doubting voices in my head were quiet, the jazz drowning them out.
“A head start,” Decker offered. “A day's head start.”
“A week,” I countered.
“Give me everything,” he said, “from the first day you met them. Sign your name to it as an accomplice. Two days.”
“Five, and this deal includes them as well.”
“I can't hold off questions for five days. I can make busy work for two. Maybe four.”
“Four or nothing.”
Decker worked his jaw. “Forget something,” he told me. “Something minor but very useful. Two days from now, call and tell me.”
“I can do that.”
“Make it a lynchpin that will get me real information, Miss Allen, and I'll get you four days.”
“Done.” I lifted my glass, and Decker lifted his, and we clinked them together.
“I don't care how you play it,” he told me as he stood and straightened his uniform. “I just want good information.”
“You'll get it.” I promised. I watched him open my front door and snap his fingers at the solider I knew was by the elevator.
“Pen. Paper. A typewriter if you can get it here quickly,” he ordered. The solider saluted, spun on his heel, and walked away. Decker turned to look at me again. “Once he gets back, you can't back out.” He didn't sound concerned, but I could read it on his face.
“I know what I'm doing,” I replied. “I know my own mind.”
He nodded and shut the door. He poured us both another drink while we waited.
*
Three hours and pages of confession later, Decker and his men departed. I watched them from the picture window and crossed to the phone once they'd driven off. The answering service picked up on the first ring.
“Emergency,” I said before the woman on the other end could finish her greeting. “I need a callback immediately.”
“Your name?”
“Amy,” I said. I hung up before she could read the message back to me. I walked to the bedroom and looked around. Wayne's key was on his nightstand. He'd finished emptying the closet and his drawer in my dresser. His shaving kit was gone from the bathroom, and two of my coffee cups were gone. The phone rang, and I grabbed it midway through the first ring.
“Hello?”
“What's happening?” Hannibal snapped in greeting.
“I told Decker everything. He's given me a two-day head start. Four if I can feed him another piece of information in the next forty-eight hours.” I heard Hannibal suck in a breath. “He took his men and left,” I said before he could say anything. “I can be packed in an hour.”
“Amy—”
“Wayne left, Hannibal, and I've been kidding myself, okay?”
“Kid—” He didn't continue for a few seconds. “Jesus,” he muttered, and I was pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to hear him. “We didn't want this for you.”
“I want this for me.”
He sighed. “Pack a small bag,” he ordered. “Empty your bank account. Find a nice hotel.”
“A nice hotel?”
“People on the run hide in cheap motels. Smart people on the run hide in nice hotels. I'm going to give you a number. Don't write it down.” He rattled it off to me. “Repeat it back,” he said. I did. “Again,” he said, and I did. “You got it?”
“Got it,” I said. “What about the rest of my stuff?”
“Hold on,” Hannibal said, and I heard a soft thud, like he'd put the receiver on his chest. I heard a muffled conversation, but I couldn't make out the words. “You've got an hour to clear out,” he said when he got back on the line. “We'll take care of it from there.”
“I'll call when I'm settled,” I promised, and I waited for the click that told me Hannibal had hung up. I walked back into my bedroom and took a moment to stare into my closet. What to take, I wondered. I knew Face could scam me some new clothes as needed, but I could at least provide some day-to-day wear.
I threw jeans and slacks and t-shirts and button downs and sweaters and a few nice dresses into my smallest suitcase. A few pairs of shoes went into a spare purse along with my jewelry and make-up. I left my toiletries—they'd be easy to replace—and I considered my books and tapes before deciding lighter packing was less suspicious. I was out the door in thirty-four minutes and down at the bank at the hour mark Hannibal had given me.
“Is there a particular reason you want to close your account, Miss Allen?” the man at the bank asked me, looking prepared to argue me into staying.
“I'm leaving the country,” I said. “I work for a newspaper, and they're sending me to a country without ATMs, so I want to make sure I have plenty of cash.”
“We could do traveler's—”
“Cash,” I insisted with a smile. “Just to be safe.”
“Traveler's checks are actually—”
“Cash,” I said again, putting steel in my voice.
He handed it over in twenties and fifties. I piled them into my purse and left the bank, hailing a cab and giving directions to a collection of hotels that were popular with traveling businessmen. I chose one at random and walked up to the desk with the best harried smile I had. “Do you have a room?” I asked the man at the desk. “My reservations fell through across the way.”
The man behind the desk smiled placidly at me. “Let me see.”
I made a minor show of tapping my fingers on the desk. I wanted to be memorable, but in a vague way. If I tried to rush the desk clerk through finding a room, he'd remember a harried woman who could have been nervous about something. If I made too much noise about the wait, the desk clerk and anyone else in the lobby might recall me. I was aiming for an average level of annoyance; something everyone in the lobby saw every day, something that blended in although it stood out for the few seconds they rolled their eyes at my behavior.
“I have a room on the fifth floor,” he said, giving me another placid smile. “How many nights?”
“Two.” Being a hotel catering to businessmen and tourists, a single night stay would be memorable. I reached into my purse for my wallet and paid in twenties before taking my room key and walking to the elevators. A family of four ducked in after me, laughing breathlessly at their good luck. I watched them press the button for the fourth floor and considered what I'd given up in my three hours with Decker. I'd given up them, I realized. I'd given up—at least for the foreseeable future—the chance to be breathless and happy and have my biggest concern be waiting for the next elevator.
The elevator dinged on the fourth floor, and I watched the family get out. They filed out like ducks—mom, daughter, daughter, and dad—and I could hear them chatting even after the doors closed.
My room was in the middle of the hallway, about thirty feet from the elevator and stairwell. The strategic disadvantage made the jazz ramp in my blood, but I fought it down as I opened the door. There was a bed, a television, a dresser, and an open-air closet. A set of sliding glass doors led to a balcony. I leaned over the edge of the balcony. In a pinch, I could probably climb down the side of the building, balcony to balcony until I reached the ground, but it wasn't an ideal situation. Decker had promised me three days, and I was certain I could trust him, but I wondered about the people barking his orders. When he showed up with the stack of information I'd given him, they could very well push him forward, and he wouldn’t disobey an order like that.
Rinnnnng.
I jumped and whirled around, staring into the room from the balcony.
Rinnnnng.
It was the phone on the bedside table. I shook my head at my nerves and walked over to it, letting it ring twice more before I picked it up. “You're following me,” I accused in greeting.
“You couldn't possibly have spotted us,” Face replied, sounding affronted.
I grinned. “I know all your tricks,” I taunted, and I felt myself relax as Face chuckled. “Where are you?”
“In the van, a few blocks down. I've started the process of breaking down your apartment. A few hours from now, no one will believe you lived there.”
“Thank you.” I sat on the bed and picked up the mint on the pillow. “What do I do now?”
“Play the tired executive. Go down to the bar and order a drink—”
“Get a booth in the back,” I finished.
Face didn't say anything for a second. Then he coughed like he was using it to cover up something. “Yes.”
I waited for him to continue, but he didn't say anything else. “I'll be down there in ten minutes.” I hung up when he didn't say anything else, and I checked myself in the mirror before I headed downstairs to the bar.
It was nearly empty, only the bartender and a couple of men in suits at the entrance end of the bar. They both glanced at me, and one leered. I ignored it, walking to a booth in the back and sitting down. The bartender called over his shoulder and a waitress came out of the kitchen, smiling as she neared me.
“I'm Susan. I'll be your waitress. What can I get you?”
“Glass of Chardonnay,” I ordered. She walked away with a nod, and I watched the door while pretending I was looking over the menu for happy hour.
Two minutes later, Face, Hannibal, and BA walked in the door without disguises or distractions. Face and Hannibal the bartender and the men at the bar would forget, but BA they'd remember. I'd probably be changing hotels by the end of the night.
“Where's your bag?” Hannibal greeted me as he and Face slid into the seat across from me. BA grabbed a chair, turned it backwards, and sat at the end of the table. Susan came back. “Scotch, neat,” Hannibal ordered.
“Same,” Face said.
“Milk,” BA said.
Susan raised her eyebrows. “Milk?”
“Milk,” BA barked. “Please,” he added as an afterthought, giving her a smile. She backed away slowly. I'd be changing hotels by the end of the hour.
“Your bag?” Hannibal prompted me again.
“In my room,” I replied. “Getting me out of here?”
“Don't trust Decker not to follow you,” BA said. “Gettin' you someplace safe.”
“I followed your directions to get here,” I protested.
“And you're going to follow them to get out of here,” Hannibal replied. He gestured to Face. “Give him the key to your room. Then we'll all sit here and have a drink for a few minutes, and then we'll split off. Face will go get your bag, and BA and I will get you back to the van.”
I narrowed my eyes at them. They met me with placid stares. “Is this how it goes?”
“You're with us, you take my orders,” Hannibal said. “You don't want—”
“Don't start,” I interrupted him. “I'm not saying I won't follow orders; I'm asking if what you're doing right now, this steam-rolling to get me elsewhere is something you'd do for the team in general, or are we going to have to have a conversation about you all treating me like a girl?”
“You are a girl,” BA said.
“A woman,” Face corrected when I glared at BA.
“We're treating you like someone new to what we're doing,” Hannibal said, holding his hands palm out as I tried to protest again. “You're new to being this deep, kid. You don't get to go home tonight or after the next job. If you're going to long-haul this, you take your orders.”
I couldn't go home. It hit me like a punch to the gut. I couldn't breathe for a few seconds. BA and Hannibal both looked worried. Face reached across the table and grabbed my hand. “That just kicked in, huh?”
I breathed out. “Yeah…yeah.” I clenched Face's hand tight for a moment, then I made myself let go. “Okay.”
“If you need a minute—”
“I'm fine, Hannibal,” I cut him off. “I'm fine.” I glanced around BA. The waitress was headed our way, drinks on a tray.
“Sorry it took so long,” she said as she set the drinks on the table. “It took me a little bit to find the milk.” She smiled at BA, setting a tall glass of milk in front of him.
“Thank you,” he said with a nod.
She waited for the rest of us to take a drink of our drinks before nodding to herself and walking away. I took a long drink of my wine and closed my eyes for a few seconds.
“You can't back out,” Hannibal said while my eyes were closed. “If you'd told us you were thinking of doing something so reckless, we could have helped, but the way you did it, you're stuck.”
I opened my eyes to glare at him. “I’m allowed a moment to adjust.”
“Once,” Hannibal replied. “And we gave that to you when the cult was getting ready to murder all of us.”
“You're a charmer, Hannibal. Don't let anyone tell you differently.”
BA and Face both looked like they were ready to laugh. BA took a long drink of milk, and Face managed to pull back his laugh. “Room key,” he said to me. “BA and I are going to get your stuff.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Need to know,” Hannibal said, eyes narrowing in challenge.
I met his gaze while I reached for my room key and tossed it to BA, who caught it one-handed. “Time to finish my drink?”
Hannibal grinned. “Always time to finish a drink.”
Face rolled his eyes. “Sure, for you,” but he finished his scotch in two quick sips while BA drank his milk in gulps, and then they were both out of the booth and headed towards the elevators.
“We're taking you someplace safe,” Hannibal said once they were out of the bar. “Play along, and you'll get a reward.”
I grinned a little, composure coming back as I let myself fall into the rhythm of the team. Sit up, take orders, and let Hannibal take the reins. If the plan fell through, run like hell and shoot over your shoulder.
“There's the all-together woman I remember,” Hannibal said. He toasted me with his glass. I toasted him in return with mine, and we took a drink at the same time.
I was still jittery, under my skin, but I tapped my fingers on my glass to release it. “What's next?” I asked, proud that my voice didn't shake.
“We get you out of here, get you moved someplace we know is secured.” Hannibal took another sip of his drink. “Not that I don't trust Decker to keep his word, but I've got a plan.”
I laughed, the last of the jitters fading. “Of course you do.”
He grinned and reached into his pocket for a cigar. “You'll love it.”
*
The new place turned out to be a swanky hotel on the outskirts of the city, up in the hills where the view was all lights and the Hollywood sign. “Do I even want to ask?” I asked Face as he set down my suitcase in the living room of the penthouse suite.
“It's mostly legit,” he assured me. “Which is to say, it's under an alias you couldn't have given to Decker, and it's an alias that doesn't have a felony attached to it yet.”
“Breaking it in, am I?”
“Couldn't think of anyone better to ruin my name,” Face said, grinning as he walked over to check out the view. “You need anything?” he asked. “Think hard; you're going to be hunkered down for a couple of days until you make the call to Decker.”
I thought about it. “I didn't pack any books. I could use something to read.”
Face reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and handed me a thin paperback. “It's not much, but it'll keep you busy while we're picking up supplies. Any books in particular you're looking for?”
“Entertaining,” I said. “No espionage.”
He nodded. “What else? You've got the mini-bar and room service to keep you fed, and there's a small gym off the second bedroom so you can exercise.”
“Murdock?” I asked after a few seconds of silence.
Face didn't say anything for almost a full minute, turning away from the window and sitting in an overstuffed armchair. He rested his left ankle on his right knee, and when he looked at me again, there was a fiercely protective glint in his eyes. “Did you do this for him?” he asked. “Did you take the plunge so you could be with him?”
“I did this for me,” I replied as I sat across from him. “What I had, it wasn't…” I thought for a few seconds, trying to find the words. “It wasn't bad,” I finally said. “It was comfortable, and I knew what to expect, and I was doing…well.” I looked away from Face, glancing at the gleaming wood of the side table, and the stack of coasters in their holder, stamped with the hotel's insignia. “But it's not…” I clenched my hands on my knees trying to find the words.
“Amy—”
“It was safe,” I interrupted. “And it was proper and expected, and it wasn't that any part of it was bad. It was…” I shook my head. When I looked at Face, he was waiting, the protective glint gone, curiosity taking its place. “I…”
“What?” Face prompted after a few seconds. “You're not describing anything bad, Amy.”
I wasn't, especially to someone like Face, who craved normalcy but put up with never-ending weirdness because the team was his family no matter his complaints or irritations. “It wasn't bad,” I said because it was true. “It's just…God.” I ran a hand through my hair and made myself look Face in the eyes. “It's not wrong or weird or anything. It's just…”
“What is it?” Face prompted.
“I blackmailed you all into taking me along for a story,” I said. “And it was the best thing I ever did. It was unethical and dangerous and stupid, but I had so much fun, and I learned so much, and I know you all tried to stop me from learning about certain things—”
“Like explosives,” Face chimed in, but he was smiling.
“Like explosives,” I agreed with a grin, “but it was still the best time of my life.”
“And Murdock?” Face asked, and the protective glint was back.
“Murdock was a bonus,” I explained. “A double-weirdness bonus that I don't want to shake off.”
Face tilted his head to consider the idea. “You're certain?” he asked. “You haven't even read—”
“Forget his file,” I snapped. “He's…” I shrugged. “God, Face, I don’t know. All I know is I want to run around and possibly get tried for treason, and I want to be near Murdock because I'm in love with him.”
Face was trying not to grin, but the edges of his mouth were quirking against his will. “It'll take a couple of days,” he said. “We'll want to make sure Decker isn't watching. But if you can wait, we'll get you in to see him before you make the follow-up call to Decker.”
“I'll owe you,” I responded. “I'll owe you big.”
Face laughed, a brief and happy sound. “Are you kidding? Do you know what a pain in the ass it is to get a woman to play along with us? You can only be useful at this point.”
I laughed, too, and I reached across the space between us and grabbed Face's hand. “You're sure Hannibal and BA will be okay with it? Me meeting with Murdock?”
He beamed at me, his confidence man smile—all teeth and tan and blond hair. “Amy,” he assured me. “If I can't convince them, I'm lousy at my job.”
*
I slept hard that night—two nights of questionable sleep catching up with me, I was certain. When I woke up, it was mid-morning and cloudy. I stared at the ceiling and listed everything I was leaving behind. My work with the paper was finished for certain. My editor had always enjoyed the stories I'd brought him from the team previously, but I'd filed those under the protection of investigative reporting, citing the team as sources. To publish anything now would put the paper in serious legal trouble.
I'd given up my apartment, but that didn't bother me as much. It was a nice place to live, but it was just a place to live. The bed had been comfortable, and the couch had been big enough to nap on, but they weren't irreplaceable.
I rolled out of bed and walked into the bathroom, turning on the shower and calling down for room service while I waited for the water to heat up. I'd given up some friends, but I hadn't had that many in the first place.
I stepped into the shower and closed my eyes, thinking about two days before, turning around to find Murdock dripping wet in his full clothes. I'd given up Wayne. My stomach twisted at the thought, and I titled my head back into the water, letting the water run down the sides of my head to create white noise.
When I finished my shower, I called down for room service and sat on the edge of the bed, towel drying my hair and watching the clouds move across the sky. My stomach had calmed down, but I had a heavy, guilty feeling in my shoulders. I was running my relationship through my head, wondering if I really had just strung Wayne along. It was hard to be certain, looking at it in the light of the last forty-eight hours.
Knock. Knock.
I wrapped my hair in the towel and walked across the room to the door. Looking through the peephole, I grinned. The bellhop was standing at an angle where I couldn't see his face, but I could see his jewelry.
“Hi, BA,” I said as I opened the door. “Feel free to set that anywhere.”
BA grinned as he wheeled in the cart. He removed the silver dome over the platter to reveal my order of coffee, juice, and bacon and eggs. There was a carafe of milk along with it and an empty glass. “Got a little time,” he said. “Thought we could talk.”
My voice caught in my throat at the softness in his eyes. “Thank you,” I said. “Let me get dressed, and we can sit down.”
When I came out of the bedroom, BA had everything laid out on the table and was already seated, pouring himself a glass of milk. “You're not eating?”
“Had breakfast already,” BA said. “I don't need lunch just yet.”
I sat at the table and cut into my eggs. They were still warm. The bacon was crispy, and the juice had pulp. When I looked up to get cream for my coffee, BA was watching me. “Yes?”
He shook his head. “You and Murdock?”
“You knew this already,” I pointed out.
“Big step you took, doing this.”
I watched him take another drink of milk. When he glanced at my plate, I handed him a slice of bacon. He bit into it with a nod. “Do you think I shouldn't have?”
He shrugged. “Not my place to say.”
“I'm asking you to say,” I pointed out.
“You love him?”
“Yes.”
“I mean really love him. I'm talking about you loving him even on his bad days, when he's had nightmares and actually thinks there's devices in his teeth and calls and asks why we don't visit more.”
“Yes,” I repeated. BA kept watching me, similar to the way Face had watched me the previous day. “I've seen his bad days, BA. I've sat with him through some when you all couldn't be there.”
“You gonna be able to sit through his bad days when you can't be there? If you're running around with us, it means you won't always see him.”
I sipped my juice and bit back my first response—that I hadn't seen Murdock on any of his days in a good, long while because of them. “If we'd kept things the way they were, I wouldn't be seeing him anyway. This way, at least, I've got a chance.”
“To go to prison.”
I rolled my eyes. “That, too.”
BA eyed me for a long moment before breaking into a grin. “You remember Maria?”
I thought back for a moment. “The little girl from the illegal workers scheme.” BA nodded. “Do you still talk to her?”
“Every now and then. Her mama sends my mama a Christmas card for me.”
I smiled. “What made you think of that? That's been awhile.”
BA's grin got a little wider. “Remember what you did for that job?”
“You all had me play pretty distraction. And then Face came in to cause a scene—” I laughed as I remembered Face's outfit and the story behind it. My fake boyfriend had dragged me to Mexico to go duck hunting, and I was looking for someone to keep me company. Face had stormed in decked out in red and black hunting gear, demanding that I respect “Donny's” decision to take me duck hunting. Didn't I understand what it meant? He'd yelled. Donny only took very special people duck hunting. Face had gotten tossed out, and then he and Murdock and BA had come right back in, guns in hand.
“You remember what Murdock said?” BA asked. “When he broke it up between you and the chump at the bar?”
“He introduced himself as Donny,” I replied, still laughing a little. I swallowed it back as the implication hit me. “He was trying to tell me,” I said, watching BA's face. BA's grin had softened around the edges.
“He's been in love with you for a long time. Didn't say nothin' about it because he didn't want to be a burden.”
“A burden?”
“Way he thinks sometimes, that he's a burden on us because he's crazy.”
“He's so kind,” I said. “So sweet. And I know…I know there are parts of it that are just him screwing around. I've never—God, did he think that? He was never a burden.”
“He knows it,” BA said with a nod. “On his good days, he knows it.”
“And the rest of them?”
BA shrugged. “I'll call him a fool on a good day as quick on a bad day. Same as Face will play along with Billy bein' real. Same as Hannibal will put Murdock in the driver's seat of any death trap with wings. We try to tell him by not treatin' him any different. He don't talk about it.”
I scoffed. “When do any of you talk about anything?”
BA chuckled. “Worked so far.”
“You need a feminine touch,” I teased. “That's the real reason I told Decker what I knew. You're all in desperate need of a lady's help.”
“Start with the Crazyman. He likes givin' hugs in the first place.”
I laughed at that and touched BA's hand. He grinned at me and stole my last piece of bacon, snapping it in half and giving me the bigger part. “I love him,” I said after I'd eaten my part of the bacon. “And I know he's not always there, but when he is—it's better than the jazz, BA. It's—” I shrugged. “It is.” I said. “That's all I know.”
“Mama always said that's all you gotta know, that you love someone enough to put up with 'em.”
“I want to put up with him.”
“You'll probably be all right, then.”
*
Before he left, BA reached under the room service cart and handed me three paperbacks. He hugged me goodbye, nearly lifting me off the floor with the force of it. I flopped on the bed after he left, reaching for the paperback I'd started the night before. I made it half a chapter before I tossed it on the bed and sat up, staring out the windows to the view. I wanted to call Decker and get it over with, but I knew better than to call from the hotel phone, and I knew even better than that not to go out without one of the guys. I paced the room instead, stared out the window, walked into the small gym off the living room and considered a workout and a second shower. I considered sneaking out of the hotel in a hat and sunglasses and going to Murdock.
The phone rang just after three as I tried to read again. I lunged for it. “Hello?”
“Ready?” Hannibal asked.
“For what?”
“Your call to Decker, of course,” even over the phone, I could hear the grin in Hannibal's voice. “I think you'll enjoy it.”
“Oh?”
“Trust me. It'll be great. Be downstairs in five.” He hung up.
I set the phone back on the cradle and turned away from the phone. There was a mirror set on the wall opposite, and I stared at my face for a few seconds, specifically, the suspicious furrow between my brows brought on by Hannibal's comment. If he thought I was going to enjoy it, it meant he'd done something. I grabbed my purse and my room key and tried not to think about it.
Face was in the lobby, reading a newspaper on an overstuffed couch when I walked over to him. He flipped the paper down and beamed at me. “Don't you look lovely?” he greeted me, standing up and offering me his arm.
“What are you up to?” I asked as I tucked my hand against the crook of Face's elbow. “Hannibal sounds like he's up to his ears in the jazz, and I’m not supposed to call Decker until tomorrow.”
“I have no idea what you're talking about.” Face replied, not even trying to lie, and grinning at me with mischief in his eyes.
“So I shouldn't be concerned that you're taking me to call Decker a day early and looking like you've just pulled a scheme.”
“I'd hope you'd know by now that when we pull a scheme, they work out,” Face chastised me, still smiling.
“What did you do?” I demanded as we stepped aside, and Face turned us left. “Or, if you haven't done anything yet, what are you planning right now?”
“You agreed to need to know,” Face reminded me, and he chuckled when I huffed out a breath. “And we're not sure it's worked, but we're pretty sure it's worked,” he said in an undertone as we rounded the corner and walked up to the van. He opened the side door and offered me a hand up before stepping in behind me. Hannibal grinned at me from the front passenger seat; BA nodded hello in the rearview mirror.
“Ready for your debut as a fugitive?” Hannibal asked, a cigar tucked into the side of his mouth.
“Of course.” I waited for Hannibal to start espousing on a plan. He just grinned at me. “You're on the jazz,” I said. “What have you done?”
Hannibal waved his hands expansively. “Absolutely nothing.”
“Today,” Face muttered. He gave Hannibal a grin when Hannibal raised his eyebrows at him. “If Amy is part of the team full-time now, it's only fair we don't lie to her face.”
“Once she makes the call,” Hannibal said, clipping his words, “then she's part of the team.”
“I'm right here,” I reminded them. I leaned back in my seat as BA started the van and eased into traffic. “What's going on?”
Face and Hannibal had a discussion without saying a word. Face's eyebrows went up, Hannibal's went down. Face glared, and Hannibal grinned. “After the call,” Hannibal said, and Face rolled his eyes but didn't fight him.
BA pulled up to a phone booth, and Face hopped out and took up a guard point next to the back bumper. Hannibal stepped out and leaned against his open door, angling himself so he could see the front of the van and the reflection in the side mirror. “Two minutes,” he told me. “No more. Just call, give him the details, and get back in the van.”
“I've done these calls before, Hannibal,” I reminded him. “I remember.”
“It's been awhile,” he said with a grin.
I reached for the phone as I grinned back. I dialed Decker's number and turned away from the phone to keep an eye on the street.
“Colonel Decker,” Decker said in greeting.
“Colonel, this is Amy Allen. I thought of something else I knew, something I thought you could—”
“You've got nerve,” Decker interrupted me, nearly growling “Our deal's off, Miss Allen. You know that.”
“What?” I nearly shrieked into the phone. “What do you mean it's off? I told you everything I—”
“Don't play me, Ms. Allen. You know it doesn’t matter now.”
I breathed in hard, glancing at Hannibal. He was outright beaming. BA was doing the same in the driver's seat, and Face gave me a shrug when I looked at him. “Colonel,” I said, trying to keep my tone even, “I don't understand.”
“You set me up to fail, Miss Allen. I don't appreciate that. I thought we had a rapport.”
“We…” I shook my head as Hannibal's smile got wider. “Colonel, I sincerely have no idea what you're talking about. At all. I swear I don't.”
He didn't say anything for a few seconds, but I could hear him breathing on the line. “I made some calls,” he finally said, speaking in the slow and controlled way people have when they're trying not to yell. “And I sent some men out.” He went quiet again, but I could hear him breathing. “You don't exist,” he continued, and it was lower than before, like he'd had to push it out.
“What?” I asked when he didn't elaborate. “What do you mean?”
“You. Don't. Exist. I've sent a dozen men to a dozen locations to look into your stories, and while all of them remember the A-Team, there's not a single one who remembers you.”
“That's not—”
“It is entirely possible. Because it's happening. No one we've talked to has any recollection of you. Not people you said were clients, not people who remember the damned explosions.”
“I don't understand—”
“You have no connection to them, Miss Allen,” Decker snarled. “The story you've been telling for years, about you staying friends with Captain Murdock because he was nice, there's nothing to disprove it. Not a damned thing.”
I pressed a hand over my mouth. “What are you saying?” I asked. “What does this mean for—”
“We have no tangible evidence linking you to the A-Team, Miss Allen. We don't even have hearsay. We've got no reason to arrest you for your association.”
“But they were at my apartment!”
“And while my men saw them,” Decker sounded like he was talking with a gun to his head, “it doesn't give us any conclusive proof. In fact, one of my superiors has floated the idea that maybe they were there against your wishes, and he refuses to consider another option until I can bring him any sort of proof that your attachment to the team extends beyond the psych ward at the VA hospital.”
“Colonel—”
“You're free to go home, Miss Allen, but I'm sure you already knew that.” He hung up before I could respond. I stared at the phone for a few seconds before I managed to remember it needed to go back on the cradle.
“What the hell?” I asked as I stepped out of the booth. I looked from Face to Hannibal to BA. “Decker says I don't exist,” I told them. “He says there's no one who remembers me, and that's just…what the hell?”
“So it did work,” Hannibal said. He looked at Face and reached into his pocket. “I was sure it wouldn't.”
“He's crazy, but he's good,” Face replied and took the twenty Hannibal held out. “Always a pleasure, sir.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose between my fingers and took a deep breath. Antics were part of this, I knew. Nothing ever got done in complete seriousness if the guys could help it. “Would someone—please—tell me what the hell just happened?”
“Someone will,” Face promised, as he waved me back into the van. “But not us.”
“Face—”
“Crazyman got infatuated with you quick,” BA interrupted me, responding to Face's pointed cleared throat with a glare. “Hatched a plan to keep you out of it. We weren't sure it worked.”
“Murdock's not quite right in the head, you see,” Face added with a small smile. “So we didn't want to get your hopes up.”
“My…my hopes?”
“Amy,” Hannibal said in a soothing tone as he slid into the passenger seat, “Murdock doesn't want you to have to run for your life every week. He's into you, kid, and he tried to show it by staying away.”
“Murdock,” Face said, completely serious, “is not quite right in the head, you see.”
I pressed my head against the seat. “I see.” I closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them, all three of them were watching me. “Why wouldn't he just tell me?” I asked. “I know he's not all there, but why not even give me a hint?”
“He wasn't sure it worked, either,” Face explained as he closed the van door. “He threw around a lot of money, but that doesn't necessarily mean everyone's going to keep their mouths shut.”
“I…” I shook my head and looked around the van, wishing there was a window in the side panel to give me something to stare at. “Can I see him?” I asked. “Could you please take me to him now so I can get some damned answers?”
“Of course,” Hannibal replied as if I were being silly. “BA, let's go.”
I stared at the wall of the van as BA drove. I saw Face shift from the corner of my eye and turned to face him as he leaned over. “I'm okay,” I said. “I just…” I shook my head, at a loss for words. “Every time I think I know what you're all up to…” I trailed off, and then I laughed, dropping my head into my hands and shaking my head when Face touched my shoulder. “It's fine,” I said between my fingers. “It's…” I lifted my head and pushed my hair off my face. “I never did get used to the plan coming together. It always comes out of nowhere.”
“Stick with us, kid,” Hannibal said, “we'll get you trained, yet.”
*
BA pulled into a parallel parking space three blocks from the VA. “Good chance Decker or someone military is there,” he said as Face opened the side door.
“If no one sets off your radar, take a cab back to the hotel,” Hannibal instructed me.
“If you spot anybody you think may be trouble, go here,” Face said, handing me a business card with a hand-written address. “He doesn't have any reason to stop you, but it's probably best to either commit that to memory or tuck it somewhere he can't easily reach.”
“You really think it'll be an issue?” I asked, reading the card a few times before tucking it into the corner of my bra and ignoring Face's mostly-suppressed smirk.
Hannibal shifted his cigar to the other side of his mouth. “Decker plays fair. He won't try to drag you into questioning without a reason, and neither will his men, but I don't know if his superiors have sent out men who aren't under Decker's orders to have a word with you.”
“He said they didn’t believe him,” I said.
“Doesn’t mean they meant it,” Hannibal replied.
“I'll be careful,” I promised. I stood up to step out of the van, and BA reached for my hand, pressing a canister into my palm. I looked down at it. It was mace.
“In case anyone gets rough,” he said. I gave him a grin and squeezed his hand as I stepped down to the sidewalk and squinted against the sun to see up the block.
“I don't see anyone from here,” I said, turning to Face for a confirmation.
“No one.” He gave me a serious look as he stepped onto the curb. “Don't forget, if you see anyone—”
“To the address you gave me,” I finished for him. “I've got it.”
“Let her go,” Hannibal ordered with a wave of his hand. “She's fine, Face. She knows what she's doing.”
Face stepped back into the van and closed the door behind him. Hannibal raised his hand in a wave, and I returned it, watching the van pull out of its spot and enter back into traffic. I stood in the same spot for a few seconds, checking them for a tail, but I didn't see anyone.
I headed up the block, humming under my breath and wondering how to start the conversation with Murdock. I had so many questions, and I knew I had no guarantee that Murdock would answer them seriously. I considered whether I could get him a three-hour pass to go to dinner, but I discarded the idea almost immediately. There was no way the nurses had missed him skipping out in the middle of the night and coming back in the next morning. They'd learned years ago to walk into his room and actually check that he was under the blankets.
The front door had been recently painted. It was a very light blue, and I looked at it for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and walking up the front steps. I wondered if he knew I was coming. I hadn't thought to ask the guys if they'd made sure I was back on his visitors list; I was still so stunned by the idea that I wasn't giving up every last thing in my life, that I didn't even feel nervous walking up to the front desk.
“How can I help you?” the nurse at the desk asked. She smiled at me.
I smiled back, and I could tell it was shaky at the edges. “Amy Allen,” I said. “I'm here to see H.M. Murdock. I think I'm on his list of approved visitors.”
She reached to her left, shuffling through a stack of files before pulling one from near the bottom. Her thumb covered the tab where Murdock's name was surely written. My stomach knotted a little as I waited for her to flip pages to the visitors list that was—if they hadn't changed their filing system since I'd last been here—attached to the back of the folder.
“Amy Allen,” the nurse repeated. She nodded, closed the folder, and handed me a clipboard and a pen. “I'll need your name, the name of the person you're visiting, and the time you checked in, please. You'll need to stop by here when you leave so we can record the time you leave as well.”
“Sure,” I said, writing my name and then Murdock's name, and then the time.
“It's for everyone's safety,” the nurse continued as she handed me a visitor's badge and took back the clipboard and pen. “In case one of our patients has any strong emotional response or tries to run away, we can have an idea of what might have set them off.”
“Okay,” I said, because I didn't know what else to say. That I knew Murdock, that I'd known him for years? That I was hoping for a strong emotional response? I clipped the badge to my shirt as the nurse pressed a button and the doors to my left swung open.
“Take the elevator or stairs up to the third floor. He's in room 316. I can provide you an escort if you'd be more comfortable.”
“No, thank you. I'll be fine.” I walked through the doors and pressed the button for the elevator. I watched the ward doors close behind me. They barely made any noise when they shut, just a tiny click. I looked around for anyone in uniform, anyone who could be military police or working for Decker or his superiors. I only saw doctors and nurses and orderlies. Some of them were walking with patients. None of them paid me any attention.
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. I stepped inside, moving to the side as a woman pushing a man in a wheelchair got in with me. I pressed the button for the third floor and looked at the woman.
“Four, please,” she requested, and I pressed it, too.
The man in the chair was muttering almost too low to hear. It blended in with the hum of the elevator. I glanced at the woman again, and she was looking at him, brushing his hair back from his face and smiling at him. He didn’t seem to register her presence. He looked like he was in his early thirties, about the same age as Face. She looked about the same age. She was wearing a gold wedding band, but his fingers were bare. His shoes were slip-ons without laces.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened on the third floor. I stepped out and didn't look over my shoulder as the doors closed behind me. The nurse at the desk by the elevator looked up and waved me over, checking my badge with a quick nod.
“I remember you,” she said with a smile. “I'm Clara. You may not remember me.”
It took me a few seconds to place her. “You help Murdock come up with his T-shirts,” I said, smiling at her. “Your husband has a T-shirt store.”
“Yeah,” Clara said, reaching out to shake my hand. “And you're the reporter. Amy, right?”
“That's right.”
“It's so good to see you. You haven't been here in awhile.”
“I was on assignment,” I explained. “And once I got back home I had to settle back in and then there were paperwork issues and all that jazz.”
Clara smirked down at the stack of papers on her desk. “Oh, I know that feeling.” She squeezed my hand and let go. “Same room as before,” she said, “down the hall and to the right. I know he'll be excited to see you. He's been talking about you for weeks.”
“Really?” I asked without meaning to.
“All kinds of stories,” Clara said, giving me a knowing look, “but I'm sure at least half of them are just for fun.”
“That's Murdock all over,” I agreed, and I walked away, Clara waving me on.
Murdock's door was closed, and I pressed my fingers to the door for a second before making a fist and knocking.
“It is open!” he called out in a terrible British accent.
I opened the door and stepped inside. Murdock was standing in front of his mirror, jaw pushed out to one side, an electric razor in one hand. I watched him a moment, shaving a slow, careful circle against his cheek. “Hi, Murdock,” I said, and I was certain my voice cracked.
He looked at me in the mirror, and I had a flash of our first meeting—me walking into the room to see if he could lead me to the team, him shaving bald patches into his hair but not frightening even in the midst of—I realized once I knew him—trying to throw me off the team's scent with his weirdness. “Why, Miss Allen,” he drawled in an over-done version of his actual accent, “I do declare you are lovely as a spring day.”
I didn't say anything in response. I watched him shave, and I listened to him hum under his breath, and I wondered if I could kiss him with the door wide open without causing him trouble.
“I played Houdini the other night,” he said after what was probably a full minute or two of silence. “So they took away some privileges.” He waved the electric razor at me. “This is my punishment. It just doesn't shave as close as a regular razor.” He pulled his upper lip taut over his teeth and ran the razor over the skin below his nose. “But I can still have the door shut,” he continued, words slightly slurred due to his lip. “If you're comfortable with it, of course.”
“I am,” I got out, and I shut the door behind me, listening to it latch. I sat on the edge of his bed and watched him shave around his Adam's apple. I had a list of questions but no idea where to start. Murdock didn't say anything, just hummed as he watched himself in the mirror and occasionally glanced my way.
“You…” I stopped, cleared my throat, and wondered why I was suddenly nervous. This was Murdock, I reminded myself. You gave up everything you had to be right here. I opened my mouth to tell him his bribes had worked, that Decker couldn't line up a connection between me and the team. Nothing came out. I swallowed and closed my eyes for a second to center myself. When I opened them, Murdock was watching me in the mirror. The razor was turned off and sitting on the edge of the sink.
“I want to kiss you,” Murdock said, and his voice shook just a little. “If I can, I mean. If you don't want—”
“Yes,” I agreed. I stood up and met him halfway, gripping the sleeves of his T-shirt in my hands as he put his hands on my waist like I'd break. I tilted my head back, and he leaned down, but he stopped just short of kissing me. “Murdock?”
“Did it work?” he asked.
“Did what—Decker, you mean? Did all the money you threw around to hide me work?”
“Yeah.”
I beamed at him, leaning up to try and kiss him, but he pulled away, bending backwards in a fashion that would have been comical if he hadn't looked so serious. “It worked,” I said. I poked him in the chest with my finger to get him to look at me. “Decker told me personally there's nothing on me.” I couldn't read Murdock's face. “What is it?” I asked. “What's wrong?”
“You're clear?” he asked. “You can go home if you want?”
I squinted at him, not following his train of thought. “If I want…” It clicked. “I'm not here because I have nowhere else to go. I'm here because I want to be.” I tugged at the front of his shirt and pulled him towards me. “I've always been here because I want to be.”
“I'm crazy,” he said. “Full-on crazy. I've got blue ribbons in it. They're in my sock drawer.”
“Face tried to show me your file,” I told him. “I didn't look at it. I know who you are. I don't care what's in your sock drawer.”
Murdock cocked his head, then pulled away. He walked over to his arm chair and sat down, digging into a cardboard box next to him. “I'm probably never gonna get out of here,” he said, pulling out a bundle of yarn and a crochet hook. I couldn’t make out what he was working on. “I like it too much. Good food. Sure, it’s mushy, but it’s filling. And the meds are fantastic.” He looked up at me, all wide eyes and crazy smile. He stopped crocheting and held out his project. It was a high top sneaker. I realized he was only wearing one shoe, and I smiled as he pulled the crocheted one onto his other foot.
“I know I play a good game of follow-me-around-the-crazy-bush for distraction,” he continued, as he tied the laces on his new shoe. “But there are legitimate issues. I’m made of so much energy, you see, that there’s a chance I’ll explode with it without my meds.” He stood up and walked around, staring at his feet. He walked over to the dresser and picked up a top hat, placing it carefully on his head and preening in the mirror.
“Murdock,” I said, when I realized he wasn’t going to say anything else. “I don’t—”
“Legitimate issues,” he repeated, removing the top hat, then his ball cap, and smoothing down his hair. “Screaming fits. Nightmares. Audio halluci—”
I walked over and put my hand over his mouth to stop him. He kept going for a few seconds, but it was all muffled. “Don't lick my hand,” I ordered when he stopped talking and started looking mischievous. He pouted, and I shook my head at him. “I'm serious, Murdock. About the licking and your issues and everything. I made my decision for myself, okay? Not for you. Not for the team. Without you all, I'd have…I don't know. I'd have found something else crazy and ridiculous and dangerous to do, but I found you all instead. And at least Hannibal's plans always come together. I can't say the same would be true if I made them up myself.”
Murdock watched me, then reached up and curled his fingers around my wrist, pulling my hand away from his mouth. “The last time I kissed you, you left.”
“It wasn't you.”
“Felt like me.” He squeezed my hand like I would try to get away.
“It was me,” I said. “I had to…I was getting addicted to all of it. The running. The screaming. The explosions.”
“The explosions are always great.”
I grinned. “Yeah, they were. And I needed to do something a little more…settled…to make sure I was actually doing what I wanted to do.”
Murdock's brow furrowed in confusion. “Why?”
I smiled at his confusion. That was really the team to a T. Who didn't love explosions? “I grew up in a two-bedroom house in the suburbs with Mom and Dad and a dog. Being a reporter in LA was as exciting as I expected my life to get. I didn't expect you. Any of you. And then you were there, and it was the most fun I’d ever had, and then…” I looked into his eyes, reached up with my free hand and smoothed the hair over his left ear. “And then,” I repeated and shrugged.
“I kissed you,” Murdock said.
I smiled. “You did.”
I’d walked him back to his room after our lunch, and he’d shown me a new T-shirt, then a dinosaur figure, then a book. When I’d asked him what else he had, he’d kissed me like we were in a movie, tipping me back and squeezing his arm around my waist. I’d kissed back without a thought.
“And then there was you,” I said.
Murdock grinned. “I’m memorable.”
I grinned in return. “Yeah.” I watched him watch me. “I'm in love with you,” I said. He went from grinning to serious to surprised to pleased in about two seconds. “I have been for a long time, and…” I took a deep breath to say the next part. “I left—partly—because of that. It scared me a little. And when we kissed—” I grabbed at Murdock's T-shirt before he could back away. “It was fantastic,” I said. “It felt wonderful. It was perfect, and I put in for Jakarta to be sure, and I had to go when I got it. That’s how it works.. I had to be sure that I could still go out and have some sort of adventure without helping you guys rig up booby traps.”
“I wanted to see you when you came back,” Murdock said, “but we'd all agreed to give you a chance to not be in trouble because of us.”
“It's okay.”
He looked at me for a moment. “Face is my best friend, and BA's my best enemy, and Hannibal's my best boss.”
“And me?” I prompted.
He grinned, his eyes twinkling, ready to say something ridiculous. The grin softened out, and he let go of my hand to curl his hand around my neck. “I want you to be my best girl.”
I chuckled at the phrasing, and he smiled at me. “Yes,” I agreed. “But only if you'll be my best guy, and Billy will be the best invisible dog.”
Murdock beamed. “We'd be delighted,” he said in a mild falsetto, and then he leaned down and kissed me, cupping my face in his hands and humming against my mouth. I laughed into it and kissed him back.
“It's not actually this easy,” Murdock said when we pulled apart. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were bright, but I could see the seriousness in them.
“If you'd let Decker find proof of me, it'd probably be a little easier,” I said. “I was happy to leave and run around with you all.”
Murdock didn’t say anything for a moment. “But if I'd let him find proof of you, you couldn't keep your contacts,” he said, his face dropping into a mock-severe scowl. “And that's the only reason to keep you around, you know.”
“Oh? This is all a fact-finding mission?”
Murdock snapped to attention and gave me a sharp salute. “Ma'am, yes, ma'am. I have been ordered by the colonel to ascertain you are not a spy.”
I laughed again. “Well, I suppose I'll have to tell you my entire background.”
“Mine's in my file,” Murdock said. “I can sign you out a copy if you want.”
“Just tell me,” I countered. “We've both pulled a lot of tricks for the other. Let's just talk.”
Murdock made a grand, sweeping gesture towards the bed, waggling his eyebrows to make it complete. “If the lady would sit,” he said in a high-class tone, “I shall fetch us tea and cucumber sandwiches, and the conversation can commence.”
I sat and watched him leave the room, placing his top hat back on his head over his cap and miming using a cane. It made me relax, to see him affect his usual level of amusing weirdness. I had been afraid the tone of our conversation would make it disappear for the whole day, and I didn't want Murdock to take things entirely seriously. It was so…Murdock of him not to. I needed that like I needed to learn how to rig dynamite to hubcaps to make exploding Frisbees to use against a group of people trying to harm other people. Something I hadn’t realized was important to me until it was right in front of my face.
Murdock walked back in the room, sodas and candy bars in one hand. “The tea of the day is grape,” he informed me. “And the kitchen informs me I shall have to make do with chocolate sandwiches.”
“I do enjoy a good chocolate sandwich,” I replied.
“Then I shan't fire the whole staff.” He flopped on the bed next to me and watched me for a few seconds. “I love you,” he said so quietly I almost didn't hear it. “I really do.”
“Well, that takes a lot off my mind,” I replied as he sat up and watched me some more. “Because it really would have screwed up my plans for the next few years if you didn't.”
“Well, I do. So it won't.” He popped the tab on his soda and held it between his knees as he opened his candy bar. “What do you wanna talk about?”
I thought about it for a moment. “What's it like on your bad days?” I asked. “Do you remember them?”
He looked shocked that I'd even ask. “Sometimes,” he said. “Sometimes not.” He took a bite of his candy bar. “Sometimes it's just dark.”
I curled my fingers over his forearm and gave it a small squeeze. “You can tell me,” I said. “And I'll tell you whatever you want, okay? And if you don't want to talk about it, or I don't want to talk about it, that'll be okay, too.”
“Why Wayne?” he asked rather than agree, but I knew the question was the agreement.
“Because in a world of people who are not you, he's probably the best example of not being you.”
“Did you love him?”
I thought about it. “Not well,” I admitted.
“Why not?”
He wasn't you, I thought, but it felt like a cop-out. “Because I didn't want to,” I said. “He was an experiment, and I didn't want to admit he was. But I…I hadn't given up on you, and then you showed up, and the whole thing just…it was going to fall apart eventually, but you sped it up, and I'm glad for that.”
“Really?”
I shrugged. “I don't know if you've noticed,” I said, “but I like to keep company with strange people, and even when I can't for some reason, I still miss them, and then when they show up again, it makes me want to be around them more, and it makes me see that people like Wayne, they're just…not my people.”
“Ve are your people,” Murdock said in a German accent. “Ve vill alvays be your people, and you vill alvays be ours. Ve vill make a decree.”
“All right,” I agreed, and I held up my soda can. “To the decree,” I said. “Whatever it might say.”
“To ze decree,” Murdock agreed. “And it vill say very important tings. Very important.”
“Well, every good decree should.” I leaned against his shoulder and after a minute, he put an arm around me.
“Billy's gotten bigger,” he said in a tone that said he was changing the subject. “And he's missed you.”
“I've missed him, too,” I told him, and he started telling me stories about Billy's adventures.
*
I didn't see anyone suspicious when I left the VA. Murdock waved at me from his window, miming a fall as I watched and laughed. I got to the corner and hailed a cab, smiling to myself all the way back to the hotel. I spotted Face in the lobby, but he thumbed the side of his nose, and I didn't stop, getting onto the elevator just as it was closing.
I checked my room for signs of disturbance but didn't see anything out of place. I hadn't even put down my purse when there was a knock on the door. It was Face. He looked me over and grinned. “No tail,” he greeted me. “Well?” he added when I didn’t say anything.
“Things are good,” I said as I stepped aside to let him into the room. “Murdock was concerned I was trying to be with him because I had nowhere else to go.”
Face shrugged. “Well—”
“He's crazy,” I finished, and we grinned at each other. I put my hands on my hips and lifted my eyebrows. “What's next?”
Face sat in the easy chair and crossed his ankle over his knee. “I guess that's up to you, really.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” Face shrugged again, the slow, exaggerated roll of his shoulders telling me he was going to tease me a little. “We could find you a new apartment and get you settled back in, get you back on the paper and come visit on Sundays.”
“Face.”
“Or, I don't know, we could secret you away in a series of glamorous hotels and spread the rumor you died tragically. A boating accident, maybe.”
“Face!”
“Or, if the lady would prefer,” he performed a loopy little hand gesture I recognized as Murdock's influence, “you could spend most of your time in the back of a windowless van with a group of questionable men.”
I swallowed back a laugh. “You have such a way with words.”
“Is that a yes?”
“That's a yes. That's a big yes.”
Face jumped up and spun me around in a hug. “All right, then. Let's get you packed.”
“Is there a van full of questionable men downstairs?”
Face grinned as he unzipped my suitcase. “For you? Of course.”
*
Four days later, I ducked as an explosion went off five feet from me. Next to me, Murdock laughed maniacally and tossed me a grenade. “Darling,” he said and turned to fire off a few rounds from his AK-47.
I pulled the pin on the grenade and lobbed it over our cover the way BA had taught me years ago. I peeked over the old table we'd tipped on its side when the firing started and watched it land. It blew, and three guys came flying over their own overturned table. I laughed as Murdock handed me another grenade. He began singing “California Girls,” and I joined in on the chorus as we huddled together against another burst of gunfire.
Ten minutes later, as Face and BA were finishing tying up the bad guys, Murdock grabbed me and kissed me before picking me up and swinging me around.
“Not bad for a first date,” he said and reached into the inner pocket of his bomber jacket. He pulled out a slightly crushed tissue paper flower and held it out with a flourish, fluttering it near my face before holding it out stiff-armed like a little boy. “For Madam.”
I took it and smelled it, smiling when I realized he'd scented it with cologne. “Well, aren't you just sweet?” I asked.
“I'm gonna be sick,” Face deadpanned, pulling a face.
“Oh, let them have their fun,” Hannibal admonished. His face went dreamy, and he slipped into a slightly higher octave. “There's so little love in the world.”
“You make me sick,” one of the bad guys said. “All of you. Drag this poor woman—”
“Gonna make you hurt,” BA threatened, lifting him—and the two guys tied to him—a few inches in the air. “Woman's made her decisions. She's part of our team. You ain't part of our team. That means we get to hurt ya.”
“You heard the man,” Hannibal said when the bad guy looked at him for help. The bad guy slumped against BA's fist, and BA let him drop back to the ground. “Let's go, kids,” Hannibal ordered. “Want to get out of here before the police or Decker arrive.”
Hannibal led the way, Face and BA filing out after him. Murdock offered me his arm, and I tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow. We stepped outside into the sun, and I grinned at the sound of sirens not far off.
“Everybody in!” Hannibal yelled, and we scrambled into place. BA driving, Hannibal in the passenger seat, Face and Murdock in the captain chairs, and me buckled into the back bench seat. BA revved the engine and hit the gas, and we all jerked with the motion as he whipped around the corner and got us out of sight. Hannibal watched from the side mirror, and I kept watch from the back window, keeping my head low so BA could see clearly when he looked in the rearview mirror.
“Clear,” Hannibal announced.
I slouched back down into my seat. A few seconds later, Murdock flopped onto the seat and dropped his head into my lap. “Hey, there,” I said.
“My darling, how I have missed you!” he crowed, then lifted his head to remove his cap. He pressed it against his chest. “How long I have waited to declare my love for you.”
“Declare away,” I responded, taking the cap from his hands and putting it on. Murdock beamed at me and I beamed back.
“Seriously,” Face said from his chair, half-turned to look at us. “This is getting disgusting.”
Murdock clapped his hands over my ears. “Do not listen, my heart! That terrible man is just jealous!”
Face snorted and turned back to face front, starting a conversation with Hannibal and BA about the cost of the job versus the payment. I tuned them out, smiling down at Murdock, who still had his hands over my ears.
“I've missed you, too,” I said. I met him halfway for the kiss.
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: A-Team (TV)
Pairing: Amy/Murdock
Rating: PG
Word Count: 38060 (Roughly 12,000 words a part)
Summary: A year after Jakarta, Amy's got a nice life, and then it goes sideways.
Dis: Lies and bullshit.
Author's Notes: Many, many thanks to
aithine, who did a fantastic beta job on this monster. And love to lasergirl for enabling me to write this monster. The title comes from the Irving Berlin song "(I Wonder Why) You're Just in Love," which I can completely imagine Murdock singing at top, Ethel-Merman volume to show his affection.Part One | Part Two
Decker's men were posted at the entrance when I got back to my building. They didn't meet my eyes, didn't try to start a conversation. Decker himself was waiting outside my apartment door, talking into a wrist mike. He didn't try to hide it when I walked up. The gloves were off, then.
“Three times in twenty-four hours,” he greeted me, “members of the A-Team have been spotted on the premises. Once, they've been seen exiting your apartment.”
“And?” I prompted as he moved aside to let me in the door. He didn't follow right away, and I raised my eyebrows. “Are you actually going to wait for an invitation?”
He worked his jaw back and forth. “My men…” He paused and cleared his throat. I'd heard him yell down Hannibal without a pause. Whatever was bothering him, it wasn't the team. “I got reports from my men that the gentleman you're seeing left with suitcases about an hour ago.”
He said it in a rush, clipping the ends of his words. It took a moment for it to sink in. “What?” I asked. I hadn't actually expected Wayne to work so fast. I thought he'd pick up the essentials and come back for the rest. I held up a hand before he could repeat it. “Nevermind.”
Decker worked his jaw again. “Miss Allen,” he started, “I follow the orders I'm given because I believe in the laws and rules of this country, but I would like to…” He didn’t quite fidget, but he adjusted his shoulders, “I would like to apologize if the tactics I took in discerning answers regarding the A-Team caused issues in your personal life.”
I blinked at him. When I blinked harder, he was still there. I opened the door wide and gestured him in. “Whiskey?” I offered.
“I shouldn't—”
“All of your sightings have been correct,” I said. I wasn't certain why, maybe to thank him for the apology. “And that's all I'll tell you about what I know about their activities, because that's all I know about their activities.”
He sized me up. I didn't move. Lynch had been a full-on idiot, sent out—I was still convinced—to amuse the people who had to work with him, but Decker had always had a shrewd sense of reading people. He nodded after a moment and followed me inside.
“I didn't come in while you were away,” he said, and I recognized it as a reciprocal piece of information to my admission that the team had been by. “You're a person of interest, but you're not quite that interesting.”
“And I trashed your last bugs.”
He rearranged his shoulders again but didn't confirm that he knew. I could see why he and Hannibal worked so well against each other, both military men to the bone, able to see and predict movement, but not above cheating where it was needed. “They were here? You're confirming that?”
“What's it get me if I do?” I asked as I reached for the whiskey. I poured us both an inch and set the glasses on the kitchen table. He sat down with the careful movements of a man who'd been trained not to wrinkle his uniform.
“Technically, I could bring you in for questioning.” He watched me sit down, and I watched him as he glanced down the hall behind me, probably expecting the guys to stick their heads out and wave. “Given the circumstances—”
“Colonel,” I interrupted, “don't put on the kid gloves now. It's boring.”
Decker gave me another once over. “Lynch hated you,” he said after a moment.
“He couldn't get you to admit to anything.”
“Lynch was an idiot,” I responded and sipped my whiskey. “And I've only admitted to what you know is true. They were here. You saw them.”
“Where have they been?”
“I have no idea.”
“Why did Wayne leave with his things?”
I considered laying the blame on Decker and his men, trying to guilt him into leaving the team alone for a little bit, but I couldn't do it. It wouldn't be honest, and even if his discussion with Wayne had been the lynchpin, it still wouldn't have erased my lying. “We broke up,” I said. “He got a very sudden, unexpected look at what I used to do, and he decided he'd rather not be part of it.”
“It's in the past. It shouldn't matter.”
I held back a smile at his decisive tone. “He didn’t know anything about it. When Murdock showed up last night, I lied through my teeth. Wayne really thought he was Bob who worked in insurance.”
Decker considered that for a moment. “You're being very candid,” he said.
I shrugged. “I'm not telling you anything you don't already know.”
“I could take you in for this, you know. I could take you to a military prison.”
I laughed, a little longer than necessary for my amusement, but it made me feel better, so I let it run a little loose. “One,” I said, holding up a finger, “they've already broken out of one and coming after me would be a vacation.” Decker didn't quite smile, but his lips twitched in acknowledgement. “And two,” I continued, holding up another finger, “you wouldn't dare.”
He cocked his head at me. “And why is that?”
“I don't know where they're staying. I don't know what they've been doing. I had had no contact with them for a year until Murdock showed up last night. And you,” I pointed a finger at his chest, “aren't going to waste time and resources on me in this situation.” You're not Lynch, I didn't say out loud, but I could see Decker knew I was thinking it.
“It's still something I need to investigate,” Decker argued. “They've contacted you again after an absence we thought was permanent. Their attachment to you—”
“Is not something you want to use as leverage.”
Decker shook his head. “I wasn't going to suggest that at all. I'm aware of what they're capable of when they think one of the team is in trouble. I have no wish to bring that rage down on myself or my men.”
I considered that, and I considered what I'd already told him. I considered Wayne leaving and Murdock showing up and the team rallying around me. The jazz spiked my blood in a hard rush, and I let it take over, let myself be fully reckless for the first time in months. “If I give you a full statement,” I said, “if I tell you absolutely everything I know right now, what's in it for me?”
Decker's eyes narrowed. He leaned forward in his chair a little. “What are you saying?”
“You know what I'm saying.”
“Miss Allen, I make it a point to never know what anyone's saying until they say it.”
“I have possible leads,” I told him. “A few phone numbers, a few names. What's in it for me?”
“You're giving them up?” Decker tapped his fingers on the table and shook his head. “You're not,” he declared. “You're not.”
“Everything I have,” I offered again. “Every detail from the last thirty-six hours, and I'll repeat it as many times as you want.”
“You're an upstanding citizen, Miss Allen,” Decker replied. “You've got a good job, and a nice apartment, and you're well-respected. If you're thinking—”
“An offer,” I interrupted. “Right now.”
“If you run off with them, if we can link you to them properly, you'd be a fugitive—a military fugitive. It's one thing to have supposed ties with them, but to—”
“Colonel, I'm a grown woman in charge of my own life.” I waited a beat for him to reply. He simply watched me. “I made my choice when I first met them. They made my choice when I came back. I'm making my choice now.”
We sat in silence for nearly a minute, staring each other down. I felt completely calm. All the doubting voices in my head were quiet, the jazz drowning them out.
“A head start,” Decker offered. “A day's head start.”
“A week,” I countered.
“Give me everything,” he said, “from the first day you met them. Sign your name to it as an accomplice. Two days.”
“Five, and this deal includes them as well.”
“I can't hold off questions for five days. I can make busy work for two. Maybe four.”
“Four or nothing.”
Decker worked his jaw. “Forget something,” he told me. “Something minor but very useful. Two days from now, call and tell me.”
“I can do that.”
“Make it a lynchpin that will get me real information, Miss Allen, and I'll get you four days.”
“Done.” I lifted my glass, and Decker lifted his, and we clinked them together.
“I don't care how you play it,” he told me as he stood and straightened his uniform. “I just want good information.”
“You'll get it.” I promised. I watched him open my front door and snap his fingers at the solider I knew was by the elevator.
“Pen. Paper. A typewriter if you can get it here quickly,” he ordered. The solider saluted, spun on his heel, and walked away. Decker turned to look at me again. “Once he gets back, you can't back out.” He didn't sound concerned, but I could read it on his face.
“I know what I'm doing,” I replied. “I know my own mind.”
He nodded and shut the door. He poured us both another drink while we waited.
*
Three hours and pages of confession later, Decker and his men departed. I watched them from the picture window and crossed to the phone once they'd driven off. The answering service picked up on the first ring.
“Emergency,” I said before the woman on the other end could finish her greeting. “I need a callback immediately.”
“Your name?”
“Amy,” I said. I hung up before she could read the message back to me. I walked to the bedroom and looked around. Wayne's key was on his nightstand. He'd finished emptying the closet and his drawer in my dresser. His shaving kit was gone from the bathroom, and two of my coffee cups were gone. The phone rang, and I grabbed it midway through the first ring.
“Hello?”
“What's happening?” Hannibal snapped in greeting.
“I told Decker everything. He's given me a two-day head start. Four if I can feed him another piece of information in the next forty-eight hours.” I heard Hannibal suck in a breath. “He took his men and left,” I said before he could say anything. “I can be packed in an hour.”
“Amy—”
“Wayne left, Hannibal, and I've been kidding myself, okay?”
“Kid—” He didn't continue for a few seconds. “Jesus,” he muttered, and I was pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to hear him. “We didn't want this for you.”
“I want this for me.”
He sighed. “Pack a small bag,” he ordered. “Empty your bank account. Find a nice hotel.”
“A nice hotel?”
“People on the run hide in cheap motels. Smart people on the run hide in nice hotels. I'm going to give you a number. Don't write it down.” He rattled it off to me. “Repeat it back,” he said. I did. “Again,” he said, and I did. “You got it?”
“Got it,” I said. “What about the rest of my stuff?”
“Hold on,” Hannibal said, and I heard a soft thud, like he'd put the receiver on his chest. I heard a muffled conversation, but I couldn't make out the words. “You've got an hour to clear out,” he said when he got back on the line. “We'll take care of it from there.”
“I'll call when I'm settled,” I promised, and I waited for the click that told me Hannibal had hung up. I walked back into my bedroom and took a moment to stare into my closet. What to take, I wondered. I knew Face could scam me some new clothes as needed, but I could at least provide some day-to-day wear.
I threw jeans and slacks and t-shirts and button downs and sweaters and a few nice dresses into my smallest suitcase. A few pairs of shoes went into a spare purse along with my jewelry and make-up. I left my toiletries—they'd be easy to replace—and I considered my books and tapes before deciding lighter packing was less suspicious. I was out the door in thirty-four minutes and down at the bank at the hour mark Hannibal had given me.
“Is there a particular reason you want to close your account, Miss Allen?” the man at the bank asked me, looking prepared to argue me into staying.
“I'm leaving the country,” I said. “I work for a newspaper, and they're sending me to a country without ATMs, so I want to make sure I have plenty of cash.”
“We could do traveler's—”
“Cash,” I insisted with a smile. “Just to be safe.”
“Traveler's checks are actually—”
“Cash,” I said again, putting steel in my voice.
He handed it over in twenties and fifties. I piled them into my purse and left the bank, hailing a cab and giving directions to a collection of hotels that were popular with traveling businessmen. I chose one at random and walked up to the desk with the best harried smile I had. “Do you have a room?” I asked the man at the desk. “My reservations fell through across the way.”
The man behind the desk smiled placidly at me. “Let me see.”
I made a minor show of tapping my fingers on the desk. I wanted to be memorable, but in a vague way. If I tried to rush the desk clerk through finding a room, he'd remember a harried woman who could have been nervous about something. If I made too much noise about the wait, the desk clerk and anyone else in the lobby might recall me. I was aiming for an average level of annoyance; something everyone in the lobby saw every day, something that blended in although it stood out for the few seconds they rolled their eyes at my behavior.
“I have a room on the fifth floor,” he said, giving me another placid smile. “How many nights?”
“Two.” Being a hotel catering to businessmen and tourists, a single night stay would be memorable. I reached into my purse for my wallet and paid in twenties before taking my room key and walking to the elevators. A family of four ducked in after me, laughing breathlessly at their good luck. I watched them press the button for the fourth floor and considered what I'd given up in my three hours with Decker. I'd given up them, I realized. I'd given up—at least for the foreseeable future—the chance to be breathless and happy and have my biggest concern be waiting for the next elevator.
The elevator dinged on the fourth floor, and I watched the family get out. They filed out like ducks—mom, daughter, daughter, and dad—and I could hear them chatting even after the doors closed.
My room was in the middle of the hallway, about thirty feet from the elevator and stairwell. The strategic disadvantage made the jazz ramp in my blood, but I fought it down as I opened the door. There was a bed, a television, a dresser, and an open-air closet. A set of sliding glass doors led to a balcony. I leaned over the edge of the balcony. In a pinch, I could probably climb down the side of the building, balcony to balcony until I reached the ground, but it wasn't an ideal situation. Decker had promised me three days, and I was certain I could trust him, but I wondered about the people barking his orders. When he showed up with the stack of information I'd given him, they could very well push him forward, and he wouldn’t disobey an order like that.
Rinnnnng.
I jumped and whirled around, staring into the room from the balcony.
Rinnnnng.
It was the phone on the bedside table. I shook my head at my nerves and walked over to it, letting it ring twice more before I picked it up. “You're following me,” I accused in greeting.
“You couldn't possibly have spotted us,” Face replied, sounding affronted.
I grinned. “I know all your tricks,” I taunted, and I felt myself relax as Face chuckled. “Where are you?”
“In the van, a few blocks down. I've started the process of breaking down your apartment. A few hours from now, no one will believe you lived there.”
“Thank you.” I sat on the bed and picked up the mint on the pillow. “What do I do now?”
“Play the tired executive. Go down to the bar and order a drink—”
“Get a booth in the back,” I finished.
Face didn't say anything for a second. Then he coughed like he was using it to cover up something. “Yes.”
I waited for him to continue, but he didn't say anything else. “I'll be down there in ten minutes.” I hung up when he didn't say anything else, and I checked myself in the mirror before I headed downstairs to the bar.
It was nearly empty, only the bartender and a couple of men in suits at the entrance end of the bar. They both glanced at me, and one leered. I ignored it, walking to a booth in the back and sitting down. The bartender called over his shoulder and a waitress came out of the kitchen, smiling as she neared me.
“I'm Susan. I'll be your waitress. What can I get you?”
“Glass of Chardonnay,” I ordered. She walked away with a nod, and I watched the door while pretending I was looking over the menu for happy hour.
Two minutes later, Face, Hannibal, and BA walked in the door without disguises or distractions. Face and Hannibal the bartender and the men at the bar would forget, but BA they'd remember. I'd probably be changing hotels by the end of the night.
“Where's your bag?” Hannibal greeted me as he and Face slid into the seat across from me. BA grabbed a chair, turned it backwards, and sat at the end of the table. Susan came back. “Scotch, neat,” Hannibal ordered.
“Same,” Face said.
“Milk,” BA said.
Susan raised her eyebrows. “Milk?”
“Milk,” BA barked. “Please,” he added as an afterthought, giving her a smile. She backed away slowly. I'd be changing hotels by the end of the hour.
“Your bag?” Hannibal prompted me again.
“In my room,” I replied. “Getting me out of here?”
“Don't trust Decker not to follow you,” BA said. “Gettin' you someplace safe.”
“I followed your directions to get here,” I protested.
“And you're going to follow them to get out of here,” Hannibal replied. He gestured to Face. “Give him the key to your room. Then we'll all sit here and have a drink for a few minutes, and then we'll split off. Face will go get your bag, and BA and I will get you back to the van.”
I narrowed my eyes at them. They met me with placid stares. “Is this how it goes?”
“You're with us, you take my orders,” Hannibal said. “You don't want—”
“Don't start,” I interrupted him. “I'm not saying I won't follow orders; I'm asking if what you're doing right now, this steam-rolling to get me elsewhere is something you'd do for the team in general, or are we going to have to have a conversation about you all treating me like a girl?”
“You are a girl,” BA said.
“A woman,” Face corrected when I glared at BA.
“We're treating you like someone new to what we're doing,” Hannibal said, holding his hands palm out as I tried to protest again. “You're new to being this deep, kid. You don't get to go home tonight or after the next job. If you're going to long-haul this, you take your orders.”
I couldn't go home. It hit me like a punch to the gut. I couldn't breathe for a few seconds. BA and Hannibal both looked worried. Face reached across the table and grabbed my hand. “That just kicked in, huh?”
I breathed out. “Yeah…yeah.” I clenched Face's hand tight for a moment, then I made myself let go. “Okay.”
“If you need a minute—”
“I'm fine, Hannibal,” I cut him off. “I'm fine.” I glanced around BA. The waitress was headed our way, drinks on a tray.
“Sorry it took so long,” she said as she set the drinks on the table. “It took me a little bit to find the milk.” She smiled at BA, setting a tall glass of milk in front of him.
“Thank you,” he said with a nod.
She waited for the rest of us to take a drink of our drinks before nodding to herself and walking away. I took a long drink of my wine and closed my eyes for a few seconds.
“You can't back out,” Hannibal said while my eyes were closed. “If you'd told us you were thinking of doing something so reckless, we could have helped, but the way you did it, you're stuck.”
I opened my eyes to glare at him. “I’m allowed a moment to adjust.”
“Once,” Hannibal replied. “And we gave that to you when the cult was getting ready to murder all of us.”
“You're a charmer, Hannibal. Don't let anyone tell you differently.”
BA and Face both looked like they were ready to laugh. BA took a long drink of milk, and Face managed to pull back his laugh. “Room key,” he said to me. “BA and I are going to get your stuff.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Need to know,” Hannibal said, eyes narrowing in challenge.
I met his gaze while I reached for my room key and tossed it to BA, who caught it one-handed. “Time to finish my drink?”
Hannibal grinned. “Always time to finish a drink.”
Face rolled his eyes. “Sure, for you,” but he finished his scotch in two quick sips while BA drank his milk in gulps, and then they were both out of the booth and headed towards the elevators.
“We're taking you someplace safe,” Hannibal said once they were out of the bar. “Play along, and you'll get a reward.”
I grinned a little, composure coming back as I let myself fall into the rhythm of the team. Sit up, take orders, and let Hannibal take the reins. If the plan fell through, run like hell and shoot over your shoulder.
“There's the all-together woman I remember,” Hannibal said. He toasted me with his glass. I toasted him in return with mine, and we took a drink at the same time.
I was still jittery, under my skin, but I tapped my fingers on my glass to release it. “What's next?” I asked, proud that my voice didn't shake.
“We get you out of here, get you moved someplace we know is secured.” Hannibal took another sip of his drink. “Not that I don't trust Decker to keep his word, but I've got a plan.”
I laughed, the last of the jitters fading. “Of course you do.”
He grinned and reached into his pocket for a cigar. “You'll love it.”
*
The new place turned out to be a swanky hotel on the outskirts of the city, up in the hills where the view was all lights and the Hollywood sign. “Do I even want to ask?” I asked Face as he set down my suitcase in the living room of the penthouse suite.
“It's mostly legit,” he assured me. “Which is to say, it's under an alias you couldn't have given to Decker, and it's an alias that doesn't have a felony attached to it yet.”
“Breaking it in, am I?”
“Couldn't think of anyone better to ruin my name,” Face said, grinning as he walked over to check out the view. “You need anything?” he asked. “Think hard; you're going to be hunkered down for a couple of days until you make the call to Decker.”
I thought about it. “I didn't pack any books. I could use something to read.”
Face reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and handed me a thin paperback. “It's not much, but it'll keep you busy while we're picking up supplies. Any books in particular you're looking for?”
“Entertaining,” I said. “No espionage.”
He nodded. “What else? You've got the mini-bar and room service to keep you fed, and there's a small gym off the second bedroom so you can exercise.”
“Murdock?” I asked after a few seconds of silence.
Face didn't say anything for almost a full minute, turning away from the window and sitting in an overstuffed armchair. He rested his left ankle on his right knee, and when he looked at me again, there was a fiercely protective glint in his eyes. “Did you do this for him?” he asked. “Did you take the plunge so you could be with him?”
“I did this for me,” I replied as I sat across from him. “What I had, it wasn't…” I thought for a few seconds, trying to find the words. “It wasn't bad,” I finally said. “It was comfortable, and I knew what to expect, and I was doing…well.” I looked away from Face, glancing at the gleaming wood of the side table, and the stack of coasters in their holder, stamped with the hotel's insignia. “But it's not…” I clenched my hands on my knees trying to find the words.
“Amy—”
“It was safe,” I interrupted. “And it was proper and expected, and it wasn't that any part of it was bad. It was…” I shook my head. When I looked at Face, he was waiting, the protective glint gone, curiosity taking its place. “I…”
“What?” Face prompted after a few seconds. “You're not describing anything bad, Amy.”
I wasn't, especially to someone like Face, who craved normalcy but put up with never-ending weirdness because the team was his family no matter his complaints or irritations. “It wasn't bad,” I said because it was true. “It's just…God.” I ran a hand through my hair and made myself look Face in the eyes. “It's not wrong or weird or anything. It's just…”
“What is it?” Face prompted.
“I blackmailed you all into taking me along for a story,” I said. “And it was the best thing I ever did. It was unethical and dangerous and stupid, but I had so much fun, and I learned so much, and I know you all tried to stop me from learning about certain things—”
“Like explosives,” Face chimed in, but he was smiling.
“Like explosives,” I agreed with a grin, “but it was still the best time of my life.”
“And Murdock?” Face asked, and the protective glint was back.
“Murdock was a bonus,” I explained. “A double-weirdness bonus that I don't want to shake off.”
Face tilted his head to consider the idea. “You're certain?” he asked. “You haven't even read—”
“Forget his file,” I snapped. “He's…” I shrugged. “God, Face, I don’t know. All I know is I want to run around and possibly get tried for treason, and I want to be near Murdock because I'm in love with him.”
Face was trying not to grin, but the edges of his mouth were quirking against his will. “It'll take a couple of days,” he said. “We'll want to make sure Decker isn't watching. But if you can wait, we'll get you in to see him before you make the follow-up call to Decker.”
“I'll owe you,” I responded. “I'll owe you big.”
Face laughed, a brief and happy sound. “Are you kidding? Do you know what a pain in the ass it is to get a woman to play along with us? You can only be useful at this point.”
I laughed, too, and I reached across the space between us and grabbed Face's hand. “You're sure Hannibal and BA will be okay with it? Me meeting with Murdock?”
He beamed at me, his confidence man smile—all teeth and tan and blond hair. “Amy,” he assured me. “If I can't convince them, I'm lousy at my job.”
*
I slept hard that night—two nights of questionable sleep catching up with me, I was certain. When I woke up, it was mid-morning and cloudy. I stared at the ceiling and listed everything I was leaving behind. My work with the paper was finished for certain. My editor had always enjoyed the stories I'd brought him from the team previously, but I'd filed those under the protection of investigative reporting, citing the team as sources. To publish anything now would put the paper in serious legal trouble.
I'd given up my apartment, but that didn't bother me as much. It was a nice place to live, but it was just a place to live. The bed had been comfortable, and the couch had been big enough to nap on, but they weren't irreplaceable.
I rolled out of bed and walked into the bathroom, turning on the shower and calling down for room service while I waited for the water to heat up. I'd given up some friends, but I hadn't had that many in the first place.
I stepped into the shower and closed my eyes, thinking about two days before, turning around to find Murdock dripping wet in his full clothes. I'd given up Wayne. My stomach twisted at the thought, and I titled my head back into the water, letting the water run down the sides of my head to create white noise.
When I finished my shower, I called down for room service and sat on the edge of the bed, towel drying my hair and watching the clouds move across the sky. My stomach had calmed down, but I had a heavy, guilty feeling in my shoulders. I was running my relationship through my head, wondering if I really had just strung Wayne along. It was hard to be certain, looking at it in the light of the last forty-eight hours.
Knock. Knock.
I wrapped my hair in the towel and walked across the room to the door. Looking through the peephole, I grinned. The bellhop was standing at an angle where I couldn't see his face, but I could see his jewelry.
“Hi, BA,” I said as I opened the door. “Feel free to set that anywhere.”
BA grinned as he wheeled in the cart. He removed the silver dome over the platter to reveal my order of coffee, juice, and bacon and eggs. There was a carafe of milk along with it and an empty glass. “Got a little time,” he said. “Thought we could talk.”
My voice caught in my throat at the softness in his eyes. “Thank you,” I said. “Let me get dressed, and we can sit down.”
When I came out of the bedroom, BA had everything laid out on the table and was already seated, pouring himself a glass of milk. “You're not eating?”
“Had breakfast already,” BA said. “I don't need lunch just yet.”
I sat at the table and cut into my eggs. They were still warm. The bacon was crispy, and the juice had pulp. When I looked up to get cream for my coffee, BA was watching me. “Yes?”
He shook his head. “You and Murdock?”
“You knew this already,” I pointed out.
“Big step you took, doing this.”
I watched him take another drink of milk. When he glanced at my plate, I handed him a slice of bacon. He bit into it with a nod. “Do you think I shouldn't have?”
He shrugged. “Not my place to say.”
“I'm asking you to say,” I pointed out.
“You love him?”
“Yes.”
“I mean really love him. I'm talking about you loving him even on his bad days, when he's had nightmares and actually thinks there's devices in his teeth and calls and asks why we don't visit more.”
“Yes,” I repeated. BA kept watching me, similar to the way Face had watched me the previous day. “I've seen his bad days, BA. I've sat with him through some when you all couldn't be there.”
“You gonna be able to sit through his bad days when you can't be there? If you're running around with us, it means you won't always see him.”
I sipped my juice and bit back my first response—that I hadn't seen Murdock on any of his days in a good, long while because of them. “If we'd kept things the way they were, I wouldn't be seeing him anyway. This way, at least, I've got a chance.”
“To go to prison.”
I rolled my eyes. “That, too.”
BA eyed me for a long moment before breaking into a grin. “You remember Maria?”
I thought back for a moment. “The little girl from the illegal workers scheme.” BA nodded. “Do you still talk to her?”
“Every now and then. Her mama sends my mama a Christmas card for me.”
I smiled. “What made you think of that? That's been awhile.”
BA's grin got a little wider. “Remember what you did for that job?”
“You all had me play pretty distraction. And then Face came in to cause a scene—” I laughed as I remembered Face's outfit and the story behind it. My fake boyfriend had dragged me to Mexico to go duck hunting, and I was looking for someone to keep me company. Face had stormed in decked out in red and black hunting gear, demanding that I respect “Donny's” decision to take me duck hunting. Didn't I understand what it meant? He'd yelled. Donny only took very special people duck hunting. Face had gotten tossed out, and then he and Murdock and BA had come right back in, guns in hand.
“You remember what Murdock said?” BA asked. “When he broke it up between you and the chump at the bar?”
“He introduced himself as Donny,” I replied, still laughing a little. I swallowed it back as the implication hit me. “He was trying to tell me,” I said, watching BA's face. BA's grin had softened around the edges.
“He's been in love with you for a long time. Didn't say nothin' about it because he didn't want to be a burden.”
“A burden?”
“Way he thinks sometimes, that he's a burden on us because he's crazy.”
“He's so kind,” I said. “So sweet. And I know…I know there are parts of it that are just him screwing around. I've never—God, did he think that? He was never a burden.”
“He knows it,” BA said with a nod. “On his good days, he knows it.”
“And the rest of them?”
BA shrugged. “I'll call him a fool on a good day as quick on a bad day. Same as Face will play along with Billy bein' real. Same as Hannibal will put Murdock in the driver's seat of any death trap with wings. We try to tell him by not treatin' him any different. He don't talk about it.”
I scoffed. “When do any of you talk about anything?”
BA chuckled. “Worked so far.”
“You need a feminine touch,” I teased. “That's the real reason I told Decker what I knew. You're all in desperate need of a lady's help.”
“Start with the Crazyman. He likes givin' hugs in the first place.”
I laughed at that and touched BA's hand. He grinned at me and stole my last piece of bacon, snapping it in half and giving me the bigger part. “I love him,” I said after I'd eaten my part of the bacon. “And I know he's not always there, but when he is—it's better than the jazz, BA. It's—” I shrugged. “It is.” I said. “That's all I know.”
“Mama always said that's all you gotta know, that you love someone enough to put up with 'em.”
“I want to put up with him.”
“You'll probably be all right, then.”
*
Before he left, BA reached under the room service cart and handed me three paperbacks. He hugged me goodbye, nearly lifting me off the floor with the force of it. I flopped on the bed after he left, reaching for the paperback I'd started the night before. I made it half a chapter before I tossed it on the bed and sat up, staring out the windows to the view. I wanted to call Decker and get it over with, but I knew better than to call from the hotel phone, and I knew even better than that not to go out without one of the guys. I paced the room instead, stared out the window, walked into the small gym off the living room and considered a workout and a second shower. I considered sneaking out of the hotel in a hat and sunglasses and going to Murdock.
The phone rang just after three as I tried to read again. I lunged for it. “Hello?”
“Ready?” Hannibal asked.
“For what?”
“Your call to Decker, of course,” even over the phone, I could hear the grin in Hannibal's voice. “I think you'll enjoy it.”
“Oh?”
“Trust me. It'll be great. Be downstairs in five.” He hung up.
I set the phone back on the cradle and turned away from the phone. There was a mirror set on the wall opposite, and I stared at my face for a few seconds, specifically, the suspicious furrow between my brows brought on by Hannibal's comment. If he thought I was going to enjoy it, it meant he'd done something. I grabbed my purse and my room key and tried not to think about it.
Face was in the lobby, reading a newspaper on an overstuffed couch when I walked over to him. He flipped the paper down and beamed at me. “Don't you look lovely?” he greeted me, standing up and offering me his arm.
“What are you up to?” I asked as I tucked my hand against the crook of Face's elbow. “Hannibal sounds like he's up to his ears in the jazz, and I’m not supposed to call Decker until tomorrow.”
“I have no idea what you're talking about.” Face replied, not even trying to lie, and grinning at me with mischief in his eyes.
“So I shouldn't be concerned that you're taking me to call Decker a day early and looking like you've just pulled a scheme.”
“I'd hope you'd know by now that when we pull a scheme, they work out,” Face chastised me, still smiling.
“What did you do?” I demanded as we stepped aside, and Face turned us left. “Or, if you haven't done anything yet, what are you planning right now?”
“You agreed to need to know,” Face reminded me, and he chuckled when I huffed out a breath. “And we're not sure it's worked, but we're pretty sure it's worked,” he said in an undertone as we rounded the corner and walked up to the van. He opened the side door and offered me a hand up before stepping in behind me. Hannibal grinned at me from the front passenger seat; BA nodded hello in the rearview mirror.
“Ready for your debut as a fugitive?” Hannibal asked, a cigar tucked into the side of his mouth.
“Of course.” I waited for Hannibal to start espousing on a plan. He just grinned at me. “You're on the jazz,” I said. “What have you done?”
Hannibal waved his hands expansively. “Absolutely nothing.”
“Today,” Face muttered. He gave Hannibal a grin when Hannibal raised his eyebrows at him. “If Amy is part of the team full-time now, it's only fair we don't lie to her face.”
“Once she makes the call,” Hannibal said, clipping his words, “then she's part of the team.”
“I'm right here,” I reminded them. I leaned back in my seat as BA started the van and eased into traffic. “What's going on?”
Face and Hannibal had a discussion without saying a word. Face's eyebrows went up, Hannibal's went down. Face glared, and Hannibal grinned. “After the call,” Hannibal said, and Face rolled his eyes but didn't fight him.
BA pulled up to a phone booth, and Face hopped out and took up a guard point next to the back bumper. Hannibal stepped out and leaned against his open door, angling himself so he could see the front of the van and the reflection in the side mirror. “Two minutes,” he told me. “No more. Just call, give him the details, and get back in the van.”
“I've done these calls before, Hannibal,” I reminded him. “I remember.”
“It's been awhile,” he said with a grin.
I reached for the phone as I grinned back. I dialed Decker's number and turned away from the phone to keep an eye on the street.
“Colonel Decker,” Decker said in greeting.
“Colonel, this is Amy Allen. I thought of something else I knew, something I thought you could—”
“You've got nerve,” Decker interrupted me, nearly growling “Our deal's off, Miss Allen. You know that.”
“What?” I nearly shrieked into the phone. “What do you mean it's off? I told you everything I—”
“Don't play me, Ms. Allen. You know it doesn’t matter now.”
I breathed in hard, glancing at Hannibal. He was outright beaming. BA was doing the same in the driver's seat, and Face gave me a shrug when I looked at him. “Colonel,” I said, trying to keep my tone even, “I don't understand.”
“You set me up to fail, Miss Allen. I don't appreciate that. I thought we had a rapport.”
“We…” I shook my head as Hannibal's smile got wider. “Colonel, I sincerely have no idea what you're talking about. At all. I swear I don't.”
He didn't say anything for a few seconds, but I could hear him breathing on the line. “I made some calls,” he finally said, speaking in the slow and controlled way people have when they're trying not to yell. “And I sent some men out.” He went quiet again, but I could hear him breathing. “You don't exist,” he continued, and it was lower than before, like he'd had to push it out.
“What?” I asked when he didn't elaborate. “What do you mean?”
“You. Don't. Exist. I've sent a dozen men to a dozen locations to look into your stories, and while all of them remember the A-Team, there's not a single one who remembers you.”
“That's not—”
“It is entirely possible. Because it's happening. No one we've talked to has any recollection of you. Not people you said were clients, not people who remember the damned explosions.”
“I don't understand—”
“You have no connection to them, Miss Allen,” Decker snarled. “The story you've been telling for years, about you staying friends with Captain Murdock because he was nice, there's nothing to disprove it. Not a damned thing.”
I pressed a hand over my mouth. “What are you saying?” I asked. “What does this mean for—”
“We have no tangible evidence linking you to the A-Team, Miss Allen. We don't even have hearsay. We've got no reason to arrest you for your association.”
“But they were at my apartment!”
“And while my men saw them,” Decker sounded like he was talking with a gun to his head, “it doesn't give us any conclusive proof. In fact, one of my superiors has floated the idea that maybe they were there against your wishes, and he refuses to consider another option until I can bring him any sort of proof that your attachment to the team extends beyond the psych ward at the VA hospital.”
“Colonel—”
“You're free to go home, Miss Allen, but I'm sure you already knew that.” He hung up before I could respond. I stared at the phone for a few seconds before I managed to remember it needed to go back on the cradle.
“What the hell?” I asked as I stepped out of the booth. I looked from Face to Hannibal to BA. “Decker says I don't exist,” I told them. “He says there's no one who remembers me, and that's just…what the hell?”
“So it did work,” Hannibal said. He looked at Face and reached into his pocket. “I was sure it wouldn't.”
“He's crazy, but he's good,” Face replied and took the twenty Hannibal held out. “Always a pleasure, sir.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose between my fingers and took a deep breath. Antics were part of this, I knew. Nothing ever got done in complete seriousness if the guys could help it. “Would someone—please—tell me what the hell just happened?”
“Someone will,” Face promised, as he waved me back into the van. “But not us.”
“Face—”
“Crazyman got infatuated with you quick,” BA interrupted me, responding to Face's pointed cleared throat with a glare. “Hatched a plan to keep you out of it. We weren't sure it worked.”
“Murdock's not quite right in the head, you see,” Face added with a small smile. “So we didn't want to get your hopes up.”
“My…my hopes?”
“Amy,” Hannibal said in a soothing tone as he slid into the passenger seat, “Murdock doesn't want you to have to run for your life every week. He's into you, kid, and he tried to show it by staying away.”
“Murdock,” Face said, completely serious, “is not quite right in the head, you see.”
I pressed my head against the seat. “I see.” I closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them, all three of them were watching me. “Why wouldn't he just tell me?” I asked. “I know he's not all there, but why not even give me a hint?”
“He wasn't sure it worked, either,” Face explained as he closed the van door. “He threw around a lot of money, but that doesn't necessarily mean everyone's going to keep their mouths shut.”
“I…” I shook my head and looked around the van, wishing there was a window in the side panel to give me something to stare at. “Can I see him?” I asked. “Could you please take me to him now so I can get some damned answers?”
“Of course,” Hannibal replied as if I were being silly. “BA, let's go.”
I stared at the wall of the van as BA drove. I saw Face shift from the corner of my eye and turned to face him as he leaned over. “I'm okay,” I said. “I just…” I shook my head, at a loss for words. “Every time I think I know what you're all up to…” I trailed off, and then I laughed, dropping my head into my hands and shaking my head when Face touched my shoulder. “It's fine,” I said between my fingers. “It's…” I lifted my head and pushed my hair off my face. “I never did get used to the plan coming together. It always comes out of nowhere.”
“Stick with us, kid,” Hannibal said, “we'll get you trained, yet.”
*
BA pulled into a parallel parking space three blocks from the VA. “Good chance Decker or someone military is there,” he said as Face opened the side door.
“If no one sets off your radar, take a cab back to the hotel,” Hannibal instructed me.
“If you spot anybody you think may be trouble, go here,” Face said, handing me a business card with a hand-written address. “He doesn't have any reason to stop you, but it's probably best to either commit that to memory or tuck it somewhere he can't easily reach.”
“You really think it'll be an issue?” I asked, reading the card a few times before tucking it into the corner of my bra and ignoring Face's mostly-suppressed smirk.
Hannibal shifted his cigar to the other side of his mouth. “Decker plays fair. He won't try to drag you into questioning without a reason, and neither will his men, but I don't know if his superiors have sent out men who aren't under Decker's orders to have a word with you.”
“He said they didn’t believe him,” I said.
“Doesn’t mean they meant it,” Hannibal replied.
“I'll be careful,” I promised. I stood up to step out of the van, and BA reached for my hand, pressing a canister into my palm. I looked down at it. It was mace.
“In case anyone gets rough,” he said. I gave him a grin and squeezed his hand as I stepped down to the sidewalk and squinted against the sun to see up the block.
“I don't see anyone from here,” I said, turning to Face for a confirmation.
“No one.” He gave me a serious look as he stepped onto the curb. “Don't forget, if you see anyone—”
“To the address you gave me,” I finished for him. “I've got it.”
“Let her go,” Hannibal ordered with a wave of his hand. “She's fine, Face. She knows what she's doing.”
Face stepped back into the van and closed the door behind him. Hannibal raised his hand in a wave, and I returned it, watching the van pull out of its spot and enter back into traffic. I stood in the same spot for a few seconds, checking them for a tail, but I didn't see anyone.
I headed up the block, humming under my breath and wondering how to start the conversation with Murdock. I had so many questions, and I knew I had no guarantee that Murdock would answer them seriously. I considered whether I could get him a three-hour pass to go to dinner, but I discarded the idea almost immediately. There was no way the nurses had missed him skipping out in the middle of the night and coming back in the next morning. They'd learned years ago to walk into his room and actually check that he was under the blankets.
The front door had been recently painted. It was a very light blue, and I looked at it for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and walking up the front steps. I wondered if he knew I was coming. I hadn't thought to ask the guys if they'd made sure I was back on his visitors list; I was still so stunned by the idea that I wasn't giving up every last thing in my life, that I didn't even feel nervous walking up to the front desk.
“How can I help you?” the nurse at the desk asked. She smiled at me.
I smiled back, and I could tell it was shaky at the edges. “Amy Allen,” I said. “I'm here to see H.M. Murdock. I think I'm on his list of approved visitors.”
She reached to her left, shuffling through a stack of files before pulling one from near the bottom. Her thumb covered the tab where Murdock's name was surely written. My stomach knotted a little as I waited for her to flip pages to the visitors list that was—if they hadn't changed their filing system since I'd last been here—attached to the back of the folder.
“Amy Allen,” the nurse repeated. She nodded, closed the folder, and handed me a clipboard and a pen. “I'll need your name, the name of the person you're visiting, and the time you checked in, please. You'll need to stop by here when you leave so we can record the time you leave as well.”
“Sure,” I said, writing my name and then Murdock's name, and then the time.
“It's for everyone's safety,” the nurse continued as she handed me a visitor's badge and took back the clipboard and pen. “In case one of our patients has any strong emotional response or tries to run away, we can have an idea of what might have set them off.”
“Okay,” I said, because I didn't know what else to say. That I knew Murdock, that I'd known him for years? That I was hoping for a strong emotional response? I clipped the badge to my shirt as the nurse pressed a button and the doors to my left swung open.
“Take the elevator or stairs up to the third floor. He's in room 316. I can provide you an escort if you'd be more comfortable.”
“No, thank you. I'll be fine.” I walked through the doors and pressed the button for the elevator. I watched the ward doors close behind me. They barely made any noise when they shut, just a tiny click. I looked around for anyone in uniform, anyone who could be military police or working for Decker or his superiors. I only saw doctors and nurses and orderlies. Some of them were walking with patients. None of them paid me any attention.
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. I stepped inside, moving to the side as a woman pushing a man in a wheelchair got in with me. I pressed the button for the third floor and looked at the woman.
“Four, please,” she requested, and I pressed it, too.
The man in the chair was muttering almost too low to hear. It blended in with the hum of the elevator. I glanced at the woman again, and she was looking at him, brushing his hair back from his face and smiling at him. He didn’t seem to register her presence. He looked like he was in his early thirties, about the same age as Face. She looked about the same age. She was wearing a gold wedding band, but his fingers were bare. His shoes were slip-ons without laces.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened on the third floor. I stepped out and didn't look over my shoulder as the doors closed behind me. The nurse at the desk by the elevator looked up and waved me over, checking my badge with a quick nod.
“I remember you,” she said with a smile. “I'm Clara. You may not remember me.”
It took me a few seconds to place her. “You help Murdock come up with his T-shirts,” I said, smiling at her. “Your husband has a T-shirt store.”
“Yeah,” Clara said, reaching out to shake my hand. “And you're the reporter. Amy, right?”
“That's right.”
“It's so good to see you. You haven't been here in awhile.”
“I was on assignment,” I explained. “And once I got back home I had to settle back in and then there were paperwork issues and all that jazz.”
Clara smirked down at the stack of papers on her desk. “Oh, I know that feeling.” She squeezed my hand and let go. “Same room as before,” she said, “down the hall and to the right. I know he'll be excited to see you. He's been talking about you for weeks.”
“Really?” I asked without meaning to.
“All kinds of stories,” Clara said, giving me a knowing look, “but I'm sure at least half of them are just for fun.”
“That's Murdock all over,” I agreed, and I walked away, Clara waving me on.
Murdock's door was closed, and I pressed my fingers to the door for a second before making a fist and knocking.
“It is open!” he called out in a terrible British accent.
I opened the door and stepped inside. Murdock was standing in front of his mirror, jaw pushed out to one side, an electric razor in one hand. I watched him a moment, shaving a slow, careful circle against his cheek. “Hi, Murdock,” I said, and I was certain my voice cracked.
He looked at me in the mirror, and I had a flash of our first meeting—me walking into the room to see if he could lead me to the team, him shaving bald patches into his hair but not frightening even in the midst of—I realized once I knew him—trying to throw me off the team's scent with his weirdness. “Why, Miss Allen,” he drawled in an over-done version of his actual accent, “I do declare you are lovely as a spring day.”
I didn't say anything in response. I watched him shave, and I listened to him hum under his breath, and I wondered if I could kiss him with the door wide open without causing him trouble.
“I played Houdini the other night,” he said after what was probably a full minute or two of silence. “So they took away some privileges.” He waved the electric razor at me. “This is my punishment. It just doesn't shave as close as a regular razor.” He pulled his upper lip taut over his teeth and ran the razor over the skin below his nose. “But I can still have the door shut,” he continued, words slightly slurred due to his lip. “If you're comfortable with it, of course.”
“I am,” I got out, and I shut the door behind me, listening to it latch. I sat on the edge of his bed and watched him shave around his Adam's apple. I had a list of questions but no idea where to start. Murdock didn't say anything, just hummed as he watched himself in the mirror and occasionally glanced my way.
“You…” I stopped, cleared my throat, and wondered why I was suddenly nervous. This was Murdock, I reminded myself. You gave up everything you had to be right here. I opened my mouth to tell him his bribes had worked, that Decker couldn't line up a connection between me and the team. Nothing came out. I swallowed and closed my eyes for a second to center myself. When I opened them, Murdock was watching me in the mirror. The razor was turned off and sitting on the edge of the sink.
“I want to kiss you,” Murdock said, and his voice shook just a little. “If I can, I mean. If you don't want—”
“Yes,” I agreed. I stood up and met him halfway, gripping the sleeves of his T-shirt in my hands as he put his hands on my waist like I'd break. I tilted my head back, and he leaned down, but he stopped just short of kissing me. “Murdock?”
“Did it work?” he asked.
“Did what—Decker, you mean? Did all the money you threw around to hide me work?”
“Yeah.”
I beamed at him, leaning up to try and kiss him, but he pulled away, bending backwards in a fashion that would have been comical if he hadn't looked so serious. “It worked,” I said. I poked him in the chest with my finger to get him to look at me. “Decker told me personally there's nothing on me.” I couldn't read Murdock's face. “What is it?” I asked. “What's wrong?”
“You're clear?” he asked. “You can go home if you want?”
I squinted at him, not following his train of thought. “If I want…” It clicked. “I'm not here because I have nowhere else to go. I'm here because I want to be.” I tugged at the front of his shirt and pulled him towards me. “I've always been here because I want to be.”
“I'm crazy,” he said. “Full-on crazy. I've got blue ribbons in it. They're in my sock drawer.”
“Face tried to show me your file,” I told him. “I didn't look at it. I know who you are. I don't care what's in your sock drawer.”
Murdock cocked his head, then pulled away. He walked over to his arm chair and sat down, digging into a cardboard box next to him. “I'm probably never gonna get out of here,” he said, pulling out a bundle of yarn and a crochet hook. I couldn’t make out what he was working on. “I like it too much. Good food. Sure, it’s mushy, but it’s filling. And the meds are fantastic.” He looked up at me, all wide eyes and crazy smile. He stopped crocheting and held out his project. It was a high top sneaker. I realized he was only wearing one shoe, and I smiled as he pulled the crocheted one onto his other foot.
“I know I play a good game of follow-me-around-the-crazy-bush for distraction,” he continued, as he tied the laces on his new shoe. “But there are legitimate issues. I’m made of so much energy, you see, that there’s a chance I’ll explode with it without my meds.” He stood up and walked around, staring at his feet. He walked over to the dresser and picked up a top hat, placing it carefully on his head and preening in the mirror.
“Murdock,” I said, when I realized he wasn’t going to say anything else. “I don’t—”
“Legitimate issues,” he repeated, removing the top hat, then his ball cap, and smoothing down his hair. “Screaming fits. Nightmares. Audio halluci—”
I walked over and put my hand over his mouth to stop him. He kept going for a few seconds, but it was all muffled. “Don't lick my hand,” I ordered when he stopped talking and started looking mischievous. He pouted, and I shook my head at him. “I'm serious, Murdock. About the licking and your issues and everything. I made my decision for myself, okay? Not for you. Not for the team. Without you all, I'd have…I don't know. I'd have found something else crazy and ridiculous and dangerous to do, but I found you all instead. And at least Hannibal's plans always come together. I can't say the same would be true if I made them up myself.”
Murdock watched me, then reached up and curled his fingers around my wrist, pulling my hand away from his mouth. “The last time I kissed you, you left.”
“It wasn't you.”
“Felt like me.” He squeezed my hand like I would try to get away.
“It was me,” I said. “I had to…I was getting addicted to all of it. The running. The screaming. The explosions.”
“The explosions are always great.”
I grinned. “Yeah, they were. And I needed to do something a little more…settled…to make sure I was actually doing what I wanted to do.”
Murdock's brow furrowed in confusion. “Why?”
I smiled at his confusion. That was really the team to a T. Who didn't love explosions? “I grew up in a two-bedroom house in the suburbs with Mom and Dad and a dog. Being a reporter in LA was as exciting as I expected my life to get. I didn't expect you. Any of you. And then you were there, and it was the most fun I’d ever had, and then…” I looked into his eyes, reached up with my free hand and smoothed the hair over his left ear. “And then,” I repeated and shrugged.
“I kissed you,” Murdock said.
I smiled. “You did.”
I’d walked him back to his room after our lunch, and he’d shown me a new T-shirt, then a dinosaur figure, then a book. When I’d asked him what else he had, he’d kissed me like we were in a movie, tipping me back and squeezing his arm around my waist. I’d kissed back without a thought.
“And then there was you,” I said.
Murdock grinned. “I’m memorable.”
I grinned in return. “Yeah.” I watched him watch me. “I'm in love with you,” I said. He went from grinning to serious to surprised to pleased in about two seconds. “I have been for a long time, and…” I took a deep breath to say the next part. “I left—partly—because of that. It scared me a little. And when we kissed—” I grabbed at Murdock's T-shirt before he could back away. “It was fantastic,” I said. “It felt wonderful. It was perfect, and I put in for Jakarta to be sure, and I had to go when I got it. That’s how it works.. I had to be sure that I could still go out and have some sort of adventure without helping you guys rig up booby traps.”
“I wanted to see you when you came back,” Murdock said, “but we'd all agreed to give you a chance to not be in trouble because of us.”
“It's okay.”
He looked at me for a moment. “Face is my best friend, and BA's my best enemy, and Hannibal's my best boss.”
“And me?” I prompted.
He grinned, his eyes twinkling, ready to say something ridiculous. The grin softened out, and he let go of my hand to curl his hand around my neck. “I want you to be my best girl.”
I chuckled at the phrasing, and he smiled at me. “Yes,” I agreed. “But only if you'll be my best guy, and Billy will be the best invisible dog.”
Murdock beamed. “We'd be delighted,” he said in a mild falsetto, and then he leaned down and kissed me, cupping my face in his hands and humming against my mouth. I laughed into it and kissed him back.
“It's not actually this easy,” Murdock said when we pulled apart. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were bright, but I could see the seriousness in them.
“If you'd let Decker find proof of me, it'd probably be a little easier,” I said. “I was happy to leave and run around with you all.”
Murdock didn’t say anything for a moment. “But if I'd let him find proof of you, you couldn't keep your contacts,” he said, his face dropping into a mock-severe scowl. “And that's the only reason to keep you around, you know.”
“Oh? This is all a fact-finding mission?”
Murdock snapped to attention and gave me a sharp salute. “Ma'am, yes, ma'am. I have been ordered by the colonel to ascertain you are not a spy.”
I laughed again. “Well, I suppose I'll have to tell you my entire background.”
“Mine's in my file,” Murdock said. “I can sign you out a copy if you want.”
“Just tell me,” I countered. “We've both pulled a lot of tricks for the other. Let's just talk.”
Murdock made a grand, sweeping gesture towards the bed, waggling his eyebrows to make it complete. “If the lady would sit,” he said in a high-class tone, “I shall fetch us tea and cucumber sandwiches, and the conversation can commence.”
I sat and watched him leave the room, placing his top hat back on his head over his cap and miming using a cane. It made me relax, to see him affect his usual level of amusing weirdness. I had been afraid the tone of our conversation would make it disappear for the whole day, and I didn't want Murdock to take things entirely seriously. It was so…Murdock of him not to. I needed that like I needed to learn how to rig dynamite to hubcaps to make exploding Frisbees to use against a group of people trying to harm other people. Something I hadn’t realized was important to me until it was right in front of my face.
Murdock walked back in the room, sodas and candy bars in one hand. “The tea of the day is grape,” he informed me. “And the kitchen informs me I shall have to make do with chocolate sandwiches.”
“I do enjoy a good chocolate sandwich,” I replied.
“Then I shan't fire the whole staff.” He flopped on the bed next to me and watched me for a few seconds. “I love you,” he said so quietly I almost didn't hear it. “I really do.”
“Well, that takes a lot off my mind,” I replied as he sat up and watched me some more. “Because it really would have screwed up my plans for the next few years if you didn't.”
“Well, I do. So it won't.” He popped the tab on his soda and held it between his knees as he opened his candy bar. “What do you wanna talk about?”
I thought about it for a moment. “What's it like on your bad days?” I asked. “Do you remember them?”
He looked shocked that I'd even ask. “Sometimes,” he said. “Sometimes not.” He took a bite of his candy bar. “Sometimes it's just dark.”
I curled my fingers over his forearm and gave it a small squeeze. “You can tell me,” I said. “And I'll tell you whatever you want, okay? And if you don't want to talk about it, or I don't want to talk about it, that'll be okay, too.”
“Why Wayne?” he asked rather than agree, but I knew the question was the agreement.
“Because in a world of people who are not you, he's probably the best example of not being you.”
“Did you love him?”
I thought about it. “Not well,” I admitted.
“Why not?”
He wasn't you, I thought, but it felt like a cop-out. “Because I didn't want to,” I said. “He was an experiment, and I didn't want to admit he was. But I…I hadn't given up on you, and then you showed up, and the whole thing just…it was going to fall apart eventually, but you sped it up, and I'm glad for that.”
“Really?”
I shrugged. “I don't know if you've noticed,” I said, “but I like to keep company with strange people, and even when I can't for some reason, I still miss them, and then when they show up again, it makes me want to be around them more, and it makes me see that people like Wayne, they're just…not my people.”
“Ve are your people,” Murdock said in a German accent. “Ve vill alvays be your people, and you vill alvays be ours. Ve vill make a decree.”
“All right,” I agreed, and I held up my soda can. “To the decree,” I said. “Whatever it might say.”
“To ze decree,” Murdock agreed. “And it vill say very important tings. Very important.”
“Well, every good decree should.” I leaned against his shoulder and after a minute, he put an arm around me.
“Billy's gotten bigger,” he said in a tone that said he was changing the subject. “And he's missed you.”
“I've missed him, too,” I told him, and he started telling me stories about Billy's adventures.
*
I didn't see anyone suspicious when I left the VA. Murdock waved at me from his window, miming a fall as I watched and laughed. I got to the corner and hailed a cab, smiling to myself all the way back to the hotel. I spotted Face in the lobby, but he thumbed the side of his nose, and I didn't stop, getting onto the elevator just as it was closing.
I checked my room for signs of disturbance but didn't see anything out of place. I hadn't even put down my purse when there was a knock on the door. It was Face. He looked me over and grinned. “No tail,” he greeted me. “Well?” he added when I didn’t say anything.
“Things are good,” I said as I stepped aside to let him into the room. “Murdock was concerned I was trying to be with him because I had nowhere else to go.”
Face shrugged. “Well—”
“He's crazy,” I finished, and we grinned at each other. I put my hands on my hips and lifted my eyebrows. “What's next?”
Face sat in the easy chair and crossed his ankle over his knee. “I guess that's up to you, really.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” Face shrugged again, the slow, exaggerated roll of his shoulders telling me he was going to tease me a little. “We could find you a new apartment and get you settled back in, get you back on the paper and come visit on Sundays.”
“Face.”
“Or, I don't know, we could secret you away in a series of glamorous hotels and spread the rumor you died tragically. A boating accident, maybe.”
“Face!”
“Or, if the lady would prefer,” he performed a loopy little hand gesture I recognized as Murdock's influence, “you could spend most of your time in the back of a windowless van with a group of questionable men.”
I swallowed back a laugh. “You have such a way with words.”
“Is that a yes?”
“That's a yes. That's a big yes.”
Face jumped up and spun me around in a hug. “All right, then. Let's get you packed.”
“Is there a van full of questionable men downstairs?”
Face grinned as he unzipped my suitcase. “For you? Of course.”
*
Four days later, I ducked as an explosion went off five feet from me. Next to me, Murdock laughed maniacally and tossed me a grenade. “Darling,” he said and turned to fire off a few rounds from his AK-47.
I pulled the pin on the grenade and lobbed it over our cover the way BA had taught me years ago. I peeked over the old table we'd tipped on its side when the firing started and watched it land. It blew, and three guys came flying over their own overturned table. I laughed as Murdock handed me another grenade. He began singing “California Girls,” and I joined in on the chorus as we huddled together against another burst of gunfire.
Ten minutes later, as Face and BA were finishing tying up the bad guys, Murdock grabbed me and kissed me before picking me up and swinging me around.
“Not bad for a first date,” he said and reached into the inner pocket of his bomber jacket. He pulled out a slightly crushed tissue paper flower and held it out with a flourish, fluttering it near my face before holding it out stiff-armed like a little boy. “For Madam.”
I took it and smelled it, smiling when I realized he'd scented it with cologne. “Well, aren't you just sweet?” I asked.
“I'm gonna be sick,” Face deadpanned, pulling a face.
“Oh, let them have their fun,” Hannibal admonished. His face went dreamy, and he slipped into a slightly higher octave. “There's so little love in the world.”
“You make me sick,” one of the bad guys said. “All of you. Drag this poor woman—”
“Gonna make you hurt,” BA threatened, lifting him—and the two guys tied to him—a few inches in the air. “Woman's made her decisions. She's part of our team. You ain't part of our team. That means we get to hurt ya.”
“You heard the man,” Hannibal said when the bad guy looked at him for help. The bad guy slumped against BA's fist, and BA let him drop back to the ground. “Let's go, kids,” Hannibal ordered. “Want to get out of here before the police or Decker arrive.”
Hannibal led the way, Face and BA filing out after him. Murdock offered me his arm, and I tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow. We stepped outside into the sun, and I grinned at the sound of sirens not far off.
“Everybody in!” Hannibal yelled, and we scrambled into place. BA driving, Hannibal in the passenger seat, Face and Murdock in the captain chairs, and me buckled into the back bench seat. BA revved the engine and hit the gas, and we all jerked with the motion as he whipped around the corner and got us out of sight. Hannibal watched from the side mirror, and I kept watch from the back window, keeping my head low so BA could see clearly when he looked in the rearview mirror.
“Clear,” Hannibal announced.
I slouched back down into my seat. A few seconds later, Murdock flopped onto the seat and dropped his head into my lap. “Hey, there,” I said.
“My darling, how I have missed you!” he crowed, then lifted his head to remove his cap. He pressed it against his chest. “How long I have waited to declare my love for you.”
“Declare away,” I responded, taking the cap from his hands and putting it on. Murdock beamed at me and I beamed back.
“Seriously,” Face said from his chair, half-turned to look at us. “This is getting disgusting.”
Murdock clapped his hands over my ears. “Do not listen, my heart! That terrible man is just jealous!”
Face snorted and turned back to face front, starting a conversation with Hannibal and BA about the cost of the job versus the payment. I tuned them out, smiling down at Murdock, who still had his hands over my ears.
“I've missed you, too,” I said. I met him halfway for the kiss.
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on 2011-03-22 02:31 am (UTC)And most of all, I love YOU.
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on 2011-03-22 02:33 am (UTC)And I believe there actually IS a Mr. Lee. I recall an episode where Lynch showed up ready to arrest Hannibal in costume, and it was, instead, the actual Mr. Lee.
Or it's possible Hannibal has confused even me.
AND YOU LIKE THE ENDING! YAY!
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on 2011-03-22 02:39 am (UTC)I will pimp the shit out of that story when I get on the laptop in th a.m.