Hannibal sighed with relief when he found the camp still there and BA moving around it, filling up the cooking pot that hung over the fire. He could have gone straight to it, out of the darkness into the circle of light thrown off by the fire and lanterns. But instead he stopped and waited a moment, watching. BA sat down, gazing into the fire and petting Billy at his side.

BA was there, but what about Face? Only one tent, so probably not. But Hannibal wanted to know for sure before he walked in. If caught by surprise he'd probably end up saying something stupid and causing a new argument. So he waited and watched for a while.

After a few minutes, the breeze shifted and the aroma of the food wafted across to Hannibal's position, reminding him instantly how little he'd eaten today and how hungry he was. If he stood here much longer the smell of the food would drive him crazy. Time to go.

He walked towards the camp. The dog either heard or smelled him coming first and started barking furiously. BA jumped up and grabbed his rifle. He pointed it out into the darkness, in the direction Billy was looking. The gun didn't point directly at Hannibal - BA couldn't see him yet - but it made Hannibal nervous and he was about to call out when BA beat him to it.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

It's instinct, Hannibal thought as he stopped in his tracks. We drum it into these guys until they answer the doorbell that way.

"Friend," Hannibal called. BA hesitated, an amazed look on his face. The dog stayed at his side, though its tail wagged madly. Then BA's expression changed to wariness.

"Hannibal?"

The correct protocol was "advance and be recognised". But Hannibal didn't think it would be wise to insist on that right now. He walked forward, into the light. Only then did Billy run towards him and jump up at him. BA lowered the rifle.

"You're back."

"I'm back."

Hannibal patted the dog a couple of times before pushing him away and walking up to BA. He held out his hand. BA hesitated for a second before he took the hand and shook it.

"I'm sorry I hit you," BA said.

Hannibal stared. He'd expected to be the one making the apologies. Did BA really have anything to apologise for?

"I drove you to it."

"Still shouldn't have done it."

For a moment Hannibal almost said 'forget it'. But he stopped himself. That wasn't right. No use forgetting about it. They had to face it and deal with it.

"It's okay, BA. I understand why you did. I've had time to think and I can see now what has to change." He hesitated, the words coming hard. "I have to change. Been putting off facing that and now we have a lot of stuff to work out. But I think I see the way forward more clearly now."

"By 'we', you mean Face too, don't you?"

"Yes. I can't let him go like that. We have to talk. If he still wants to go, then I won't stop him. But first we all have to talk."

"How we gonna find him?"

"He can't have gotten very far yet. We'll go after him at first light."

They could track Face, Hannibal felt sure. He probably wasn't trying to conceal his trail, and he'd be looking for the nearest road. They'd catch up to him.

~o~

Face ran to the school bus to find a man leaning out of a window. The man's long dark hair fluttered in the breeze. He had a beard and small round glasses. The side of the bus was painted with bright coloured flowers and peace signs. One thing's for sure, Face thought, this isn't the military.

"Hi!" Face called up. "Can you give me a ride to the nearest town, please?"

"Aw, man, sorry, we're coming from there. It's about thirty miles back."

Face groaned at that. Unless he caught a ride coming the other way it would take him a couple of days to walk there. Still, at least he knew he was going in the right direction.

"Okay." He sighed. "Thanks anyway."

"What's going on?" Another voice came from inside the bus and a second man appeared at the window. Face blinked. Aside from not having a beard, the second man looked exactly like the first one. What is this, the bus for the Hippie Cloning Project? Without the beard it was easier to gauge the men's ages, mid-thirties, Face thought.

"Guy's heading towards town. Looking for a ride."

"I guess I'll try my luck in the morning." Face turned to walk away, but the beardless man called after him.

"You aren't going to camp out here, are you? This is cougar country."

Oh, great. It would be.

"We're only a few miles from home," Beardless said, when Face turned back. "Come back with us for the night, and we'll bring you back at least this far tomorrow."

"Yeah," the first one said. "Don't like to leave you out here."

Face looked at them for a moment, assessing. They looked sincere, identical concerned expressions on their faces. He didn't exactly mix with a lot of hippies, but he'd met a few back at UCLA, and found most of them friendly enough. He'd be keeping quiet about the whole military thing anyway.

"Plenty of room."

"And food."

Food clinched the deal. Decent food that wasn't cooked over a campfire. Food, a bed, a roof and not being mauled by mountain lions. Sounded like the height of luxury. One thing he should ask though.

"Do you guys have a phone?"

"No, sorry," the bearded one said. "We're kinda remote you know. Cut off."

Face pretended to look disappointed, when actually he wanted to grin. Even if they recognised him, they couldn't call the MPs in before he could get out of there.

"Okay, thanks. That would be great."

The bus door hissed open and Face boarded to find something very different from the bus he used to catch to school. Brightly coloured throws covered the seats. Beads hung from the rear view mirror. The whole thing smelled of incense, sending him right back to his days as an altar boy. The first few rows of seats were still there, but the rest had been pulled out to make an open space at the back. Right now that space was filled with boxes and bags of groceries and other goods.

"Grab a seat," the bearded one said. He helped Face take off his pack. "I'm Fred. That's my brother, Ed."

"Hey." Ed climbed back into the driver's seat and put the bus in gear. It lumbered off.

"Alvin," Face said. "Or Al's fine."

"Good to know you, Al," Fred said. "So where you heading, aside from that town? Which, let me tell, you is nowhere squared."

"I'm just trying to get to some place with a bus stop," Face said. "Trying to get back to L.A." He wondered for a moment if he should have said that, but it was out now. Change the subject, keep them from thinking about it. "So, you guys are twins right? And your parents called you Fred and Ed?"

The brothers laughed. "Not quite," Ed said. "They called us Edvard and Friedrich."

"Yeah," Fred continued. "And then we went to school." Both brothers laughed and Face did too. Fred passed him a bottle of root beer.

Okay, Face thought, maybe my luck is changing.

~o~

Murdock went to bed early, after carefully concealing his letters. All but one of them. He took that under the covers with him and read the words over and over until his eyes grew heavy and he started to doze off.

A sound woke him. Something under his bed. Something breathing. He lay frozen for a moment, then slowly, he slid his head out from under the sheets. He leaned over the side of the bed and hung upside down, looking under the bed.

A dog lay sleeping there. It made the occasional whimpering noise and twitched its paws, the way sleeping dogs did.

"Yeah. You're not real, are you?"

The dog didn't respond, just went on sleeping. Real or not, the moonlight shone on its rising and falling ribcage, highlighting its glossy brown fur.

"You're Billy, aren't you?"

Again, no response.

The blood started to rush to Murdock's head, so he sat back up. It couldn't be real, could it? That weird new doctor wouldn't give him a dog as well as a fridge, would he? No. Even if he did, he wouldn't mess with Murdock's head by just sneaking the dog into the room at night. Murdock hung over the other side of the bed. Yep, still there. He could see its tail now, tipped with white on the end.

Right, he thought, sitting up again. What now? I suppose I let sleeping dogs lie. Appropriate. If the floor is covered with dogs in the morning I may have hysterics of some description, but I think I can cope with one dog. He lay down. It is Billy. And that's going to make it tricky to talk to the doc about him. Because he'll want to figure out what brought him on and I can't tell him.

Forget it for now. Too late. Too tired. He'd figure it out tomorrow. Right now, it actually felt kind of nice, knowing Billy was there. His Billy, like their Billy. It made him feel closer to the guys.

He lay with one hand hanging down the side of the bed. He'd done that as a boy, when he had a dog, Buster, who lay by his bed at night and licked his dangling hand. Grandma used to scold him for wiping the dog slobber off onto the nice clean bed sheets, but she never stopped him having the dog in his room.

Maybe Billy would lick his hand.