Face didn't mind the slow pace of the trip to San Francisco; he was just happy they were heading in the right direction. Back to California. Back home. Back to Murdock. So he took the time to enjoy it. Camping out with people other than just Hannibal and BA. Better food and pleasant company. Bluebell.

But all good things come to an end, Face thought, as he watched the crackling campfire late one warm evening. Sam had been sent off to bed a couple of hours ago and the adults were relaxing and talking. Fred played some quiet tunes on a guitar. They were nearing San Francisco now, would get there tomorrow, and then... He looked up as Bluebell came back over from the tent they'd been sharing on the trip and sat next to him.

"I made this for you." She handed him a wristband of beads. "You're a patriotic sort of boy, so I thought you'd like it."

The band had alternate red and white beads, for most of the circle, then several blue beads, each with a couple of white stars painted on. More than ever Face got the feeling that she knew exactly who they were. She hadn't asked him though and she still called him Alvin. He'd grown used to that, even liked it, enjoying not having to live up to 'Face' for a while.

"It's great, thanks," he said. It might not be his style really, but yes, he loved it, loved the thought behind it. He bent close to her to whisper, "Wanna turn in early?"

She nodded and at once headed for their tent, which Face had pitched well away from the others for some privacy. He didn't follow her right away, first climbed into the bus to grab something for a little midnight snack.

He was rummaging in the boxes that held the food when he heard someone walk up the aisle of the bus. Hannibal sat down on the last row of seats.

Damn, Face thought, that's one serious expression.

"Problem, Colonel?"

"That's what I'm wondering," Hannibal said. "Wondering if you're going to have a problem saying goodbye to her."

Face sat back on his haunches. What did he say? He'd be sad to say goodbye to Bluebell, of course. But he wasn't in love with her, and didn't think she was with him. So, no. No problem.

"No, I won't." He shook his head. "She's just another girl."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow at that, not looking entirely convinced.

"I guess I'm going to have to get used to it." Face's tone came out bitter, surprising him. "Love 'em and leave 'em is going to be standard procedure from now on, isn't it?"

"And you're complaining about that?"

Face lost the bitterness, and gave a chuckle. "Well, when you put it that way."

"I just wanted to be sure." Hannibal rose, looking less serious now, seemed reassured by Face's words. "She's a nice girl."

"Yes, she is."

And tomorrow, she'd be no more than a memory. A good one though. His hippie chick. Kinder and gentler than that girl he'd picked up in Reno. She had been the first since the prison camp, and had little patience with his hesitancy. Made him wish sometimes that he hadn't bothered. That he'd waited. It was very different with Bluebell. She would let him just talk for a long time, about his fears, his insecurities. Things he couldn't even tell Hannibal about. He looked up to see Hannibal turning away to leave the bus.

"Hannibal," Face said, making him turn back. "It's not a problem this time. But what if one day it is?"

Hannibal had no answer of course. Face knew he couldn't have. There was no answer to that. Eventually Hannibal replied.

"I guess we cross that bridge when we come to it."

~o~

Hannibal stepped off the bus. Most of the others had gone to bed now, leaving only BA and Ed around the fire. BA appeared to be asleep, stretched out on the ground. Ed had Fred's guitar in his hand and strummed a few quiet chords. Face passed them with a "goodnight" and went off to his and Bluebell's tent.

Hannibal sat down beside Ed, getting comfortable. He could turn in, but this would be the last night out here. Might as well take the time to enjoy it.

"I thought you went to bed," Ed said, quietly.

"Not me. I'm a night owl." Hannibal spoke in his normal tone and when Ed frowned at him, nodding towards BA's sleeping form, he said, "Don't worry. That man can sleep through an artillery barrage."

Ed smiled and went on strumming on the guitar, Hannibal watching him. They'd talked a lot around the campfire the last few nights, and got along okay for men so different in their beliefs and philosophy. Sometimes they even found common ground. They were supposed to hate each other, he knew, Army versus peacenik. But Hannibal had learned long ago that people didn't fit into neat categories. They were too complicated for that. This was a good man. Had some funny ideas, but a man of principle.

"Ed, has Sam ever asked if he can have a dog?" Hannibal asked, looking at Billy, snoozing by the dying fire.

Ed looked up at him and smiled. "Quite often since you arrived. Can't imagine why."

"Yeah, sorry, guess we've kind of encouraged that idea." He'd spent a lot of time playing fetch with Sam and Billy over the last few days. Preparing the ground. "City's no place for a dog. A farm on the other hand…"

"Has anyone ever told you that subtlety is your long suit, John?" Ed asked, with a twinkle in his eye. "Because if they have, they were lying to you."

Hannibal laughed at that and Billy sat up and looked at him. Hannibal patted his leg and the dog came over and lay with its head on his knee.

"He's a good dog." Hannibal echoed Sam's words from a few days ago, and meant them.

"I'll have to check with Clara," Ed said. "But I'm sure she'll say yes. Is he a good ratter?"

"The best," Hannibal bluffed. If he wasn't yet, he'd learn.

He was a good dog.

~o~

Murdock brought a pastry back from lunch. He didn't break it up and wrap any of the pieces. He just ate it. He did fiddle around in one of his hiding places though. Not for a food scrap - they were all gone now - but for one of the letters from the guys. He didn't know for sure if he needed to hide them. But he couldn't risk doing otherwise. Just in case.

He hid it in a book and sat on his bed. He'd read the letter many times now, but the stories in it, of camping mishaps, and the scrapes the guys and Billy got themselves in, still made him roar with laughter.

He was right in the middle of a fit of giggles over an incident involving BA and a patch of poison ivy when a nurse came in.

"Funny book, Mr Murdock?"

"What? Oh yeah, it's a riot."

She glanced at the cover. "Bleak House?"

"Don't let the name fool you. It's a laugh a minute." He closed the book and slipped it under his pillow. He knew why she was here. Not meds, had them already.

"Time for your session with the doctor."

First session alone with the new boy - the fridge-giving stripling. The thought of Richter as a "boy" made Murdock chuckle. He's older than you, flyboy, he reminded himself. And smarter and richer, so a little respect, huh?

~o~

The bus stopped beside a public park in San Francisco to drop off the team. As they unloaded their gear, Hannibal spoke to Face and BA.

"Guys, you know we can't take the dog back with us."

They both nodded without speaking, neither of them happy about it. But they couldn't deny it.

"I've spoken to Ed and he's agreed to take him. He'll have a great time there. Got the kids to play with, loads of space to run around." He wondered suddenly if this is what being a father felt like. They nodded again and then, in turn, crouched down to wish the dog goodbye, with long scratches behind the ear and some murmured words.

BA stood up after he was done and held out his hand for Billy's leash. Hannibal handed it over and he and Face watched as BA walked over to Sam.

"Sam," BA said. "We decided Billy needs to go back with you. It's no fun in the city for a dog."

Sam stared and took the leash that BA handed to him. "Really? I can keep him?" He looked over at his father, who nodded, smiling. "Wow! Thanks, Dan!" He hugged the startled 'Dan', and ran to do the same to Face and Hannibal. Then he ran with Billy to the grass of the park and started playing with a ball, laughing. The team stood and watched for a while.

"The kid'll take good care of him," BA said.

"Yeah, he's in good hands." Hannibal grinned suddenly. "And look on the bright side; it'll probably really annoy that guy Jeffrey." BA snorted at that.

"I just wish Murdock had been able to meet him," Face said. "I bet they'd have gotten along famously."

"Maybe one day we'll all go visit."

Hannibal said it, but didn't think it likely. Never look back. Keep moving forward. Only go back if there's trouble to fix. Their journey was almost over. They'd unloaded all their gear from the bus. Now they had one last trip to make, back to LA, and it was all over. Time to say goodbye. Not only to their new friends - time to say goodbye to John, Alvin and Dan.

Hannibal, Face and BA were going home.

~o~

"Hi, Doc, what's shaking?"

"Good morning, Captain Murdock. Please sit down."

"Ooh, so formal." Murdock broke into a falsetto, trying to sound like an old lady. "Such lovely manners. Anybody would think refrigerators had never passed between us."

Richter just waited. He knows I'm testing him, Murdock thought, knows I'm trying to distract him. Like a class of kids with a new teacher. Finding the boundaries. Richter still waited, his pen poised. Murdock sighed. So he wasn't going to play. Pity, Murdock was in the mood. But he sobered himself. He had to take this seriously. Work hard, like O'Brien said. How long did he want to be stuck in this damn place? So he sat down on the couch and stretched out.

"I see from the session notes that you and Doctor O'Brien have talked a lot about your childhood."

"That's what you shrinks like to ask about isn't it?"

"Some of us. Could I just summarise what I think I've gleaned from the notes?"

"Knock yourself out. Give me the thirty-second 'biog' of HM Murdock."

"You were raised by your grandparents after your mother's death. They were kind and loving people. You did well at school. Your father was absent a lot, but you have no apparent resentment about --"

"Dad was doing his best for me," Murdock interrupted. "He was an oil man, worked the rigs. It wasn't easy back then for a widower with a kid. Everyone told him the right thing was for me to stay with my grandparents while he earned as much as he could."

"No resentment, but perhaps some defensiveness on his behalf."

Murdock sighed. "Well, what can I say? Would I prefer if he'd been around more? Of course. Did I hate him because he wasn't? No. He worked himself into an early grave to give me a college fund. I admire him."

"That's good." Richter closed the folder and tossed it onto the desk. "So, you had a generally happy childhood. Normal in almost every way. The psychological reports on you during your flight training concluded that you had a somewhat eccentric personality, but were entirely stable and well-adjusted."

"I'm country folk. We're all eccentric."

Richter cracked a smile then, only a brief one though. "Quite."

"Where we going with this, Doc?" Murdock had the feeling he already knew, and didn't like it very much. He'd escaped from there. He didn't want to go back.

"You showed no evidence of mental illness until you went to Vietnam. I'm a doctor, not a logician, but it seems to me that's where we need to start our work."

"No."

"I don't know if you've been avoiding talking about it at your sessions with Doctor O'Brien, or if his methods are simply different than mine. But it's time to face those memories."

"No!" Murdock sat up. "I'm supposed to forget. That's the best way, right? If I forget all that crap then it can't hurt me."

"It's already hurting you. In the darkness, inside your mind, it's feeding on you. You need to expose it to the light."

"You make it sound like a vampire in my head."

"That's a good analogy."

Murdock rose from the couch and started to prowl around the room.

"That make you Van Helsing, huh, Doc? Tear down the drapes. Grab a couple of candlesticks to make a cross."

"If you like."

Murdock looked at him. He did look young, despite being older than Murdock. Nice white shirt, polished shoes, clean fingernails. He didn't know anything about the blood, the dirt and the fear. How could he help?

But he did give Murdock that fridge. That hadn't been an early birthday gift. He understands something. Maybe he understood more than Murdock gave him credit for.

"Doc, I honestly don't know if you can take it. Even second-hand like this. You civilians..." No, that wasn't right. It wasn't just soldiers who suffered out there. The civilians did too. Homes and lives destroyed. Dead children, shattered families. "Someone who's never been in a war zone can't even start to imagine it." He turned to look at Richter. "I would wager big money that in the next thirty seconds I could tell you something that would make you throw up."

"I left my wallet in my other jacket," Richter said. "Why don't you sit down again, Captain? We still have plenty of time left."

Murdock relented on the sitting part at least and flopped back onto the couch. "I've got nothing but time."

"Then let's fill it."

Murdock looked at him for a long stretch of that time. How long could he look at Richter in silence before the doctor blinked and tried to fill the silence himself? But Richter held his gaze, and the silence. Sucked it up, the way Murdock had seen BA do sometimes. Even Hannibal blinked first when BA decided to wait him out. BA could wait out a statue.

This time Murdock blinked first.

~o~

Murdock took a sleeping pill. Done that often the last few days. Another session with Richter earlier had left the images too close, the noises too loud. He needed oblivion.

But despite his drugged sleep, a noise in the night woke him. His watch's glowing hands told him it was almost three in the morning. The sound that woke him had been a footfall. He turned his head slowly to see a dark figure moving in his room.

For a second he lay completely still. An orderly? A nurse? Another patient? What did they want? The figure moved to the bed and sat on the end of it.

"Hello, Murdock," said Face.