"Okay?" Face stopped pacing the holding cell and stood in front of Hannibal. "We're in the brig of a ship which people aren't allowed to leave - ever. What part of that is okay to you?"

Hannibal held up his ink stained hands. "They've taken our prints. Once they confirm who we really are they have to listen to us."

"I can't stay here, Hannibal," Murdock said. He sat on the bench beside Hannibal, rubbing his inky fingers on his pants, cleaning the fingers but making a hell of a mess of the pants. "Was okay for a few days. For a job. Like back when I got to be Frank for a day. I could deal. But not for good. I'm done with that. Can't go back."

"We ain't staying, fool," BA said, from Hannibal's other side, his tone milder than his words. "We'll be off here 'fore you know it."

Face started pacing again. "Have you forgotten who we're dealing with here? This is Stockwell. He pays attention to detail. When he fakes an ID it holds up. Hah! His own ID is probably fake."

"We're getting out of here," Hannibal said. He had to keep saying it. He had to make sure they believed it.

"What is it with you and Stockwell, anyway?" Face demanded. "What's this blind spot you have with him that you think he can be trusted? We should never have gotten involved with him in the beginning."

"I seem to remember you agreeing," Hannibal said.

"I agreed to go to Spain and end that hijacking. That's the last part of it I did voluntarily, and you know it."

Hannibal knew it. Face had never trusted Stockwell. But Hannibal had, in a weird sort of way. Once he'd got them in his organisation he'd been a man of his word. Men like that had to be. If he said he'd do something, he'd better make it happen or someone might think he couldn't.

Reputation. Hannibal understood all about that. The team's reputation had been as useful to them as their actual skills. You go into a fight with that reputation going ahead of you, throwing the first punch, you're already close to victory. Stockwell valued reputation just as highly as the team.

But Hannibal had forgotten something. Stockwell was retired. He didn't need the reputation any more. He just needed to get this job done, and he'd burn whatever bridges it took to do that. He'd burned a bridge to leave the team here, thinking he'd stranded them. But there was another perspective. Stockwell had broken his word and that meant they no longer had any obligation to him. That meant...

Sudden movement made him jump, but it was only BA. He stood up suddenly, grabbed Face's arms to stop him pacing and pushed him to sit down. Face started to surge back up to his feet, scowling and Hannibal got ready to intervene. But then Face just slumped back onto the bench and BA sat beside him.

"We're screwed here," Face said. "Stockwell is poison. Why do we keep going back to him?"

"Because we made promises," Hannibal said. "And so did he. But he's broken his. Don't you guys see what that means?" Apparently not - they just looked back at him blankly. Hannibal grinned. "It means we're free."

A moment of silence followed, then BA looked up at the bars of the cell.

"You got a funny idea of free."

Hannibal just made a dismissive gesture at the bars. A minor problem.

"Look at you!" Face snorted. "You're sitting there thinking you've got Stockwell right where you want him, aren't you?"

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Hannibal said. "But give me a couple of hours... Now quit worrying. We'll get out of here. They're checking our IDs now and fingerprints don't lie."

~~~~

"So they aren't the A-Team?" Captain Tate said.

"No, sir," one of his officers said. "The IDs they boarded with check out."

"Including fingerprints?"

"Yes. Their prints are in the military and CIA databases just as they should be. And they don't match the prints on record for the members of the A-Team."

"And Blaine?"

"His ID checks out too, sir. He's Navy."

Navy and what else? Who else was he working for? Tate looked around the table at his other senior officers and several of the ship's psychiatrists, including Galvez. He tried to recall TV footage, several years back now, of the A-Team's trial, tried to remember their faces. Were those the men in his brig now?

"We need recent, high-quality photographs of them," he said to the officer who'd checked the IDs. "Organise it."

"But, sir, the prints..."

"Could be faked." He could hardly command this ship and not keep his mind open to that possibility. "Now what about this General Stockwell they claim to work for?"

"He's former CIA and used to be a major player in intelligence circles," the officer reported. "But he retired several years ago."

"Weren't they all being held together, before they were brought here?" Galvez said. It was a statement, not than a question. She looked impatient with the debate about their identities. Of course, if they actually were the A-Team that wouldn't be nearly as interesting for her and her people.

"Yes, ma'am." One of the other doctors confirmed it, checking in a folder. "They arrived at the temporary facility one by one over several months, until they were stabilised and ready to be transferred here. They spent four months there as a group."

"Could they have been brainwashed?" one of the younger doctors said, eliciting some smiles and eye-rolling. He pressed on though. "Made to believe they were the A-Team and thus should do this mission to snatch Miller from the boat?"

"Not everything is about brainwashing, Roger," one of the other doctors said, and there were some titters.

"Gentlemen, ladies," Galvez said to her people. "Think horses, not zebras, please."

"Horses?" Tate said, baffled at that one.

"Just an expression, Earnest," Galvez explained. "Something we're taught in medical school. When you hear hoof beats, think horses not zebras. That is think of the most common scenario first. Brainwashing would be a zebra in this case."

"And what's the horse?" Tate asked.

"Well, what if they sincerely believe they are the A-Team? Not because anyone has told them that's who they are, but because they've come to believe it themselves. All of them." She looked speculatively at her staff, who looked back at her dubiously. One spoke up nervously.

"With respect, Doctor, I think we're still in zebra country."

"Folie à deux?" said Roger, the young doctor with the penchant for brainwashing. "That's... very rare."

"And I won't even be able to publish." She sighed. "A pity. And it's folie à quatre in this case."

"Folie what?" Tate said, making her turn back to him.

"Shared psychotic disorder," she explained. "Two or more persons share a common delusion. Two people are the commonest presentation, but it can occur in small groups too, especially in isolated situations. These men were already delusional, kept isolated from the world for months, with only each other's company most of the time. They could have influenced each other's delusions, until they reached the point that they actually believe themselves to be members of the A-Team." She looked ready to rub her hands with anticipation, relishing the work ahead. "It's going to be very interesting working with these men. Of course it will take a very long time to break through the shared delusion. But we have that time."

Yes. They had the rest of the men's lives.

~~~~

Captain Tate stepped up to the bars at the front of the cell. He had Dr Galvez with him.

"That can't be good," Face muttered, looking at the doctor. Hannibal glanced at him, then stood up and walked to the front of the cell.

"Well?"

"Colonel Reese," Tate began.

"Oh, that really can't be good," Face moaned from behind Hannibal.

"Smith," Hannibal said, before Tate went on. "My name is John Smith." The doctor was watching him keenly, with an expression of academic fascination. He didn't need Face to say it this time. That really can't be good.

"Your name is Colonel Jack Reese. Your fingerprints confirm that fact." Tate nodded to the other three, even as BA and Murdock exploded off their benches and rushed to the bars on either side of Hannibal. "All of your fingerprints confirm your identities."

"That's impossible!" Murdock shouted. "Even Stockwell couldn't fix that! No way!"

"This is a set up!" BA grabbed the bars, shook them in frustration. His rage didn't frighten either Tate or Galvez. Not with the experience they had on this ship.

"Captain, we are the A-Team," Hannibal said, an oasis of calm between his raging teammates. "Look again. Look deeper. Get some recent pictures." He grimaced at the fact they'd all gone some way to alter their appearances before coming aboard. That had been Stockwell's suggestion. Of course. Tate looked dubious, but he ran a secret, ocean-going asylum, home to hundreds of ex-intelligence agents. He might be at least receptive to the idea of a conspiracy.

"I've already requested pictures. I'm still making enquiries."

"Captain, will I have time to talk to them soon?" Galvez asked. "I want to make a start on such a rare case."

"Rare case?" Face said. "I hate to keep repeating myself, but that can't be good."

"Yes, Doctor," Tate said. "I expect you to give me an opinion on whether they are simply lying about being the A-Team, or if they really believe it."

"Well, I'm not talking to anyone right now," Face snapped. "We've been up all night. I want coffee, breakfast and a place to sleep."

"That can be arranged," Tate said.

"We'll start tomorrow," Galvez said. "After you've had a chance to rest." She had an air of great anticipation. Looking forward to talking to four crazy men. "I would like to talk to them as a group, Captain. Observe their interaction."

"Of course, Doctor." Tate and Galvez walked away from the cell and out of the brig.

"Can I clarify something?" Face said. "When I said, 'this can't be good', what I mean is, 'we are entirely screwed'."

"What did he mean, 'really believe it?" BA asked. "They think we're not the A-Team, but that we think we are?" BA said. "That's nuts!"

"It's not impossible," Murdock said. "It can happen on a large scale, you know, like with crazy religious cults."

"Mass hysteria?" Hannibal said.

"Yeah," Murdock said, frowning, trying to remember. "Something like that. There's a name for it I think." He shook his head and shrugged. "Can't remember."

"You know," Face said, "I almost prefer that to the alternative. Because if they decide we really are the A-Team, I doubt we'll be patients here much longer."

"And that's bad, why?" BA asked. "Sooner we get off here the better."

"Because the nut house beats the big house any day," Face said, sobering them all. "What, you think they'll just let us go? We know too much now. What if they think we're working for the other side? We've got enough reasons to be pissed at the government."

"We'd never sell out our country!" BA protested. "Government and country ain't the same thing." He looked at Hannibal. "You taught me that," he said quietly.

Hannibal nodded and smiled.

"Now what?" Face demanded. "What are you grinning about now?"

"Well, look at it this way, guys. If they refuse to believe we are the A-Team, you know what that means?"

"I'm done with your pop quizzes today," Face snapped.

"It means they're underestimating us."