Face strode fast along the corridor of the VA psychiatric ward, forcing the nurse to hurry to keep up. As he buried her in a blizzard of paperwork she gasped.

"But, Colonel, can this be right? Mr. Murdock is the only compatible kidney donor? In the whole world?"

"That's right –" He glanced at the nametag pinned to the strap of her white string bikini. "Brandi." She was somehow familiar. Ah, yes. Page 47 of the Playboy. Brandi from Phoenix. "And Captain Murdock must -" He hesitated a moment as she tossed back her long red hair. It cascaded over her tanned and smooth shoulders. "Er... He must..." Face glanced at his faked doctors chart. "Right! Captain Murdock must be at the Vatican within the next twenty four hours or in a few days time we'll all be watching for the white smoke, if you know what I mean?"

She didn't, but she gazed adoringly at him anyway. They reached the door of Murdock's room.

"Quickly, Nurse. Air Force One is gassed up and waiting at LAX."

"Air Force One?"

"The President has kindly loaned it for this emergency."

She opened the door to Murdock's room.

The room was full of snow. Drifts of it lay against the furniture. Layers of it sat on top of the dresser, and the TV. The bed was clear of snow, but not empty.

A wolf sat on the bed. It turned its head to look at Face and Brandi.

And then Face was lying on a cot and reading a letter from Leslie.

Her letter was full of news about the house and how perfect it would be by the time he came home on leave. She talked about how much everyone looked forward to seeing him again, after he'd had to leave for Vietnam so soon after the wedding. He paused a moment before he read on, thinking about how beautiful she'd been on that day. Of course she was beautiful every day. Beautiful.

He sighed and looked around the ward. When he wrote back he wouldn't tell Leslie about his leg wound. He wasn't getting shipped home because of it, so there was no sense in worrying her. He wanted her to be as happy and relaxed as possible. Not just for her sake, but for the baby too.

His baby. His son. Well he didn't know that yet of course. But he just had a feeling.

He was reaching the end of her letter when the first shell hit.

~~~~

Decker was working outside clearing snow when he heard the explosion.

"What the hell?" He dropped the long rake used for pulling snow from the roof and ran into the kitchen.

Murdock, looking stunned, was staring at the stove. Or rather staring at the ceiling above the stove, which now had the lid of the pressure cooker embedded in the plasterboard. All around the lid a red brown blast pattern radiated several feet. On the stove the pan of the pressure cooker lay on its side, with chilli bubbling out like lava.

Decker dashed forward and turned off the heat. He stepped back quickly as drops of red-hot chilli pattered onto his hood. Once out of range of the spiced rain he pushed his hood off and looked at Murdock.

"Are you hurt, Captain? Burned?"

"What?" Murdock said, turning to Decker. "Oh, no. I wasn't in the room."

"You weren't?" Now Decker scowled. None of them were exactly experts in the kitchen but they'd agreed on one thing. "You're not supposed to leave the pressure cooker unattended."

"I only stepped out for a second. I thought of something really great for my book and had to go type it up."

Decker turned away with a grunt. A second? Unlikely.

"What in god's name was that bang?" Hannibal's croaky voice came from the door to the corridor. He stood there hanging onto the doorframe, his face paper white.

"Nothing to worry about," Murdock said, smiling. "Chilli got a bit lively. Rod, I told you the napalm was going too far, but would you listen?"

"You shouldn't be out of bed, Smith," Decker said. Hannibal's fever had come down now, but Decker knew he was still weak. "You need to lie down, now."

Hannibal abruptly folded up and landed in a heap on the floor. Decker and Murdock ran over to him.

"Now he does what you tell him," Murdock said, rolling his eyes at Decker as they knelt down.

Hannibal wasn't unconscious, but he wasn't getting back on his feet unaided. They dragged him up and supporting him between them helped him back to the bedrooms. As they passed the doors of the other rooms BA called out.

"What the heck is going on out there?" He sounded disgruntled. "Can't a sick man get some sleep?"

Murdock winced and said, "Hey, Decker, you want to tell him what happened? I can manage from here."

Decker let Murdock take Hannibal alone and went into BA's room. BA was sitting up in bed. He looked less menacing than usual, stripped of his gold and wearing blue and white striped flannel pyjamas. His hair stuck out at wild angles.

"Sorry, Sergeant, there was an accident in the kitchen. The pressure cooker exploded."

BA looked surprised and then he frowned.

"Was it the fool's fault?" He asked.

"Well -"

"Shoulda known," BA said, nodding. He sighed in a long-suffering way. "You two planning on blowin' anything else up or can I get some sleep now?"

"Do you need anything?" Decker looked at the nightstand. The water jug was full.

"Just some quiet." BA settled down again and snuggled into the covers. Decker left the room and closed the door, leaving it open just enough to hear if BA called out.

He went on to Face's room. Face hadn't been yelling for an explanation. Perhaps he'd slept through the whole thing. Decker tapped on the door and looked inside.

"Lieutenant? Are you awake?"

Face's bed was empty. Decker glanced up the hallway at the bathrooms. But he turned back as he heard a sound in the room. He flicked on the light and to his astonishment Face's head popped up briefly from the other side of the bed.

"Get down, for Christ's sake! They didn't sound the all clear yet!" Face ducked back down.

What the hell? Decker walked around the bed to find Face half under it. Face stared up at him.

"Lieutenant, are you okay? Did you fall out of bed?" Decker bent to offer Face a hand up, but Face grabbed him and pulled him down to his knees.

"Are you nuts? Can't you hear the shelling?"

"Shelling?"

A loud crash made Decker instinctively duck, before he realised it came from the kitchen and must be the pressure cooker lid falling down from the ceiling.

"Can you believe they'd shell a hospital?" Face said. "Goddamn VC bastards."

"VC..." Decker trailed off. He glanced at the door and wondered if he should call Murdock. But was that a good idea? Was Murdock really the best person to bring anyone back to reality right now?

"Lieutenant." Decker put a hand on Face's shoulder and shook it. "Face. Look at me. You're not in Vietnam. You're only dreaming. Look at me. Do you know me?"

Face stared at him, no recognition there. He pulled away from Decker and tried to get further under the bed, muttering obscenities about the Vietcong. Decker sighed. He shuffled over to the nightstand and scooped a handful of ice cubes from the water jug. Quickly he grabbed Face's wrist and held the ice against the inside of Face's forearm. Face gasped and tried to pull away, but Decker held the ice there, forcing him to experience the sensation, the cold, the reality.

"Wake up, Face," Decker said, his voice firm and commanding. "Remember where you are. Remember who I am."

In a few seconds he was rewarded with Face blinking and shaking his head and then speaking.

"Decker?"

Decker sighed and let go of Face's arm. Face looked at it puzzled, looked around the room and then winced.

"I was dreaming about... God, I thought... What happened?"

"The pressure cooker blew up. The bang must have triggered -" He didn't go on as Face looked away, blushing.

"Damn," Face muttered. He started to pull himself back out from under the bed. Decker helped him up and back into bed. Face became apparently enthralled with rearranging his bedclothes, careful not to catch Decker's eye. Decker picked up the water jug to take it to refill.

"Can I get you anything, Lieutenant?"

Face looked up at him now. His hands had started to shake. Adrenaline rush, Decker guessed. He knew how that felt. He knew what Face had just gone through. As real as being back there.

"How about some tea?" Decker offered.

"O-okay." Face said. "Decker, sorry I -"

Decker held up a hand to ward off the apology. "You're still feverish. And if you were dreaming of... Just try to get some rest, Lieutenant." He turned to leave the room.

"Thanks."

Decker almost didn't hear the soft word. He wasn't supposed to react, he knew that much. He kept on walking. In the kitchen he found Murdock, with a mop propped beside him, standing over the sink filling a bucket with hot soapy water.

"Smith okay?" Decker asked.

"Yeah," Murdock said. "Safely tucked up. BA and Face?"

Decker looked at Murdock narrowly for a moment then at the mess on the stove and the ceiling.

"Fine."

Murdock nodded looking pleased. He looked up at the chilli coloured pattern centred around a circle of cracked and crushed plaster.

"That's gonna leave a mark."