"You need a hat," Hannibal said.

Madari nodded. He rarely thought about covering his head while in America, but this Yellowstone trip would be different, out in the sun all day.

"I should have bought one in Los Angeles."

"Oh, don't worry." Hannibal had a small, teasing smile. "I happen to know a great place to get you one. Be there in a few miles."

Madari didn't ask any more, just let Hannibal tease him. He enjoyed it, as he enjoyed the breeze coming through the car window, and the scenery, already beautiful, even before they reached the National Park.

"So why Yellowstone?" Hannibal asked. "You seem especially keen to see it."

"I had a book about it when I was a boy, with many pictures. And information about the wildlife, the hot springs, the geology of the area. It was fascinating. I suppose some things stick with you."

"So, you're the expert on the place?"

Madari laughed, shook his head. "The book was published in the nineteen-twenties. It may have been somewhat out of date. And none of the pictures were in colour. That's one of the things I'm looking forward to most - the colours."

"Yeah, even California, well sometimes it seems like the only green spots are the golf courses. I suppose you're used to that." He sighed. "Not sure I ever will be."

"You miss the Mid West?" Farming country, Madari knew and imagined endless fields first green and later gold. "Do you think you'll ever go back there? Permanently, I mean?"

"What, retire?" Hannibal didn't speak for a while. Eventually he cleared his throat and continued. "Not yet."

They drove on in silence for a while. A couple of miles on turned off the main road to a small town, and what looked like more shops than such a small community would need. Last stop to buy supplies before the park.

"Let's get some food," Hannibal said. The teasing smile came back. "And your hat."

They went for the hat first. Hannibal led him to a store with "Hats" printed in simple white letters on the window. Inside they found a tall and broad shouldered man, dressed in check shirt and jeans, about Madari's age.

"Hi, Kress, how's it going, you old jarhead?" Hannibal said.

"Smith, you Army bastard." Kress looked delighted and shook Hannibal's hand warmly. "It's been nearly two years hasn't it? You're uglier than ever."

Hannibal grinned. "Good to see you too." He gestured at Madari who offered his hand to Kress. "Friend of mine, Faris Madari. Behave yourself; he's a tourist. Faris, Tim Kress."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr Kress."

"Tim, please. Faris was it?" He hit the s on the end too hard, making it too like "hiss", but Madari didn't correct the pronunciation.

"Tim was a Marine back in the war."

"A Marine? And you're friends?" Madari had a teasing smile of his own now, knowing from the team of their traditional rivalry with the Marine Corp.

"He carried me to an evac chopper when I was injured. Under fire."

"Told you before, Smith, I was using you as a shield."

Hannibal laughed, as if it was a new joke, and then slapped Kress on the shoulder. "Tim, Faris and I are heading to the Park for a couple of weeks. So I thought I'd bring him to your fine establishment to buy a hat. Now, he's a man used to the sun, but there's no sense in risking heatstroke."

"Of course not. What about you, Smith, you need a new hat too?"

"No, I'm good."

Madari had seen a white cowboy hat among the gear in the car, and when he looked at the hats on hooks on the wall, he saw they were all "cowboy" style too. Ah, that was the game. Kress placed Madari in front of a mirror and walked around behind him then back again, studying, assessing.

"You know your hat size, Faris?" Kress asked.

"Twenty one and seven eights."

"Size seven," Kress said, translating the inches to sizes without missing a beat. He folded his arms and tapped his chin, still looking at Madari. "You'll want a good broad brim to keep the sun off your face and neck."

He strolled along the display of hats, considering them. Hannibal tried to interfere of course, pointing out some of the more funny looking designs, classic ten gallon hats, but Kress waved him off. He stopped by one hook and examined the hat on it and then bent down to open a drawer underneath, found one in the right size and brought it over.

Madari bent his head to allow Kress to place the hat on him and adjust it. Then he straightened up and looked in the mirror. The hat was black, and the brim flat and perfectly round, with a flat-topped crown, with no dents in it. It had a hatband in black ribbon, studded with flat silver coloured studs. Two thin leather cords could be tightened or loosened off with a silver coloured slider, to make a chinstrap, or let the hat lie on the shoulders. Kress adjusted the angle.

"How's that?"

"Mr Kress," Madari said. "I think you have hit the nail on the head."

"I know the hat for every man that walks in here." He gestured at Hannibal. "His friend Peck tried on pretty much every single one I have and in the end he still took the first one I'd handed him."

"You clearly have the eye for it." Madari turned to Hannibal who was staring. "What do you think, Hannibal? Does it suit me?"

Hannibal pulled himself together. "Suits you in the sense that you were born to wear that hat? Yeah, I'd say so." He chuckled. "Dammit, Tim, you do it to me every time. I think one day I'll catch you out, but no. I bring you an Arab and you turn him into Clint Eastwood."

Madari's eyebrows rose at that. Clint Eastwood? He looked at himself in the mirror again. Well, he didn't think he actually looked like Clint Eastwood, but perhaps that wasn't exactly what Hannibal meant. Could he see himself on a horse, riding the American wilderness, wearing this hat? Yes, yes he could.

"If I could just get BA up here," Hannibal muttered. "He won't come. Not much of a hat man."

"Ten minutes in here, he will be," Kress said. "Will you take the hat, Faris?"

As if there could be a question of that. "Of course. I mean, yes, thank you."

"Want me to wrap it?"

"I'll wear it."

~~~~

"Sorry, Faris," Hannibal said, as they drove back onto the highway after eating lunch in a diner. "Just having some fun with you over the hat. I should have known Tim would spot the right one for you the second you walked in the door."

"Clearly a talented man," Madari said, keeping his voice dry, not minding being 'set up'. He appreciated Hannibal's sense of humour, and would play the straight man for him. "Thank you for arranging all this, Hannibal. I know I'll enjoy it."

"You're welcome. Well, I like to get out into the great outdoors myself. Sometimes I'm just tired of city streets, need to see the land again, the real country. Glad to bring you along. Show the place off a bit. Shame Kahil couldn't come along."

"He'd probably prefer the night clubs back in LA. Anyway, it's not really possible for us to take leave together now. Taking the commander and the first officer away from the unit at the same time."

"Good for him to be in charge for a while too," Hannibal said. "Good experience."

"That's my thinking. He's doing very well. Though sometimes..." He stopped and shook his head, when Hannibal looked at him. "Perhaps we'll talk about it later." Hannibal nodded his assent.

"No problem. You know, anything that's worrying you, you can talk to me about, right? It's just going to be us out there, nothing you say, nothing I say, goes any further."

Madari looked at him for a moment. Hannibal stared straight ahead, giving the road more attention than usual. 'Nothing I say', those words intrigued Madari. Did Hannibal have something to say? About what? Their falling out last year? Though a little tension remained between them about that, as far as Madari was concerned that matter was closed.

Tension, yes. That was the word. Hannibal seemed to grow tense suddenly and for no obvious reason. He would come out of it quickly and be his usual cheerful self, but it had happened a few times in the couple of days Madari had arrived. Well, as Hannibal said, they could talk, later.

In less than an hour, they pulled up to the short queue of cars, paying their entrance fees and passing through the gates. Hannibal, once again smiling and jocular, handed over their fee when they reached the gate and the attendant smiled back at them.

"Welcome to Yellowstone National Park, sirs. Enjoy your stay."

~~~~

Late in the afternoon, they reached the campground where they'd spend their first night. Hannibal planned to take in Old Faithful tomorrow and then reach their trailhead in the afternoon. One night there, then they'd set out on a hike for a few days before they reached the outfitters for their horse packing tour.

He'd be glad to get Old Faithful out of the way. You had to see it of course. Couldn't go to Yellowstone and not see Old Faithful. That would be like going to the Tower of London and not seeing the Crown Jewels. These things were usually underwhelming, he knew, but you had to do them.

But tourist traps and the crowds that went with them, held little attraction for Hannibal right now. He'd prefer to get out on their hike. Out in the wilderness, where a man could clear his head and talk with a friend who could understand those things clogging up his mind.

He glanced over to Madari, efficiently assembling their tent, while Hannibal prepped the rest of their gear, for cooking and clean up. They'd decided to split the tasks that way. Two men putting up a tent together could start out as friends and end up ready to commit murder. Madari was a friend, but one with some distance. Not as close as the team. Right now, that's what Hannibal needed. Someone not too close to talk to, someone who could remain at least partly objective.

Hannibal dismissed all that for now though, not ready to talk yet. Not here at a busy campsite, full of shrieking kids and barking dogs.

In a few minutes, the tent was up, the guy ropes straight and neat, the canvas stretched tight. It made Hannibal smile. A soldier's tent. Ready for inspection. He pushed aside the flap to find Madari inside arranging sleeping pads and bags in the decent sized interior.

"Stand by your beds!" Hannibal snapped in his best sergeant voice, and grinned at Madari's startled expression, which changed to a wry smile.

"I haven't heard that since Sandhurst."

"I've put the coffee on," Hannibal said. "Come get some."

Madari came out and stood, accepting Hannibal's arm as he got to his feet.

"Nice job," Hannibal nodded at the tent.

"Passes inspection, sir?"

"Good thing too, or I'd have to ask you to drop and give me fifty."

"Fifty what?"

Hannibal laughed at his baffled expression. "Never mind. Come on; let's see if my coffee passes inspection."

Madari didn't like the crowds much either, Hannibal noticed. He watched warily if anyone strayed too close to their tent, while they sat drinking their coffee. Adults and teenagers at least. Small children just got a smile if they ran close in their games. Hannibal kept the same wary watch, though hid it behind an affable expression. By long habit, he scanned every crowd, looking for who stood out. Who didn't belong. Who was watching him.

While Hannibal watched the crowd, Madari sat with a booklet of the rules and regulations of the Park. Hannibal knew one of those rules said "No firearms". But Hannibal had a pistol buried deep in his pack. With the enemies he had, he couldn't afford to take the chance of going unarmed. Not when he had a guest he was responsible for too.

"We'll be picking up our backcountry permits tomorrow?" Madari said, interrupting Hannibal's perusal of the surrounding campsite, growing gloomier now as the sun began to set. Mothers called for their children not to roam too far in the twilight.

"What? Oh yeah. Hot springs in the morning, grab lunch and permits and drive to the trailhead."

"Camp there for the night and get away onto the trail at first light?"

"First light?" Hannibal grinned. "This is a vacation, not a recon patrol. We can sleep in a little, you know."

"Right, of course. So... five-thirty then?"

"That late? Okay, it is a vacation after all."

~~~~

"So, are you happy now you've seen it for real?" Hannibal asked as they drove slowly along the busy road, away from Old Faithful village.

Madari nodded. "Yes, it was spectacular." They'd seen the geyser and the whole site, arriving early. Madari felt sure Hannibal was in a hurry to get through "the tourist thing" and move on to their hike. Of course, he'd seen Old Faithful before, and Madari noticed he seemed uncomfortable in the crowds, always scanning faces. In another man, he'd call it nervousness. But Hannibal?

So they had their fill of hot springs and geysers, ate lunch and ran a few last errands. All that done, Hannibal picked up their permits for the backcountry while Madari waited at a café, guarding the last minute supplies they'd bought and writing a couple of postcards,.

When the waitress came to top off his coffee, she gave his postcards an odd look. The addresses were in English of course, for posting here in America, but the messages were in Arabic. Perhaps it disconcerted her.

"Thank you, miss," he said, nodding at her, with a small smile. But she didn't return the smile and hurried off. Madari sighed. He hoped there wouldn't be any problems on the trip. Only a few months ago Americans had been fighting people who looked like him, evicting the Iraqis from Kuwait. Sometimes the important fact that any one individual Arab wasn't actually from the country they'd been fighting escaped people. Most Americans had been as hospitable and friendly as usual since he arrived, but he sensed hostility from some.

So like Hannibal, he'd be glad to leave the crowds behind too.

~~~~

"Sure you won't have some more apple pie?" Hannibal asked, as they lounged by their tents at the trailhead campsite, coffee mugs in hand.

"No, thank you, I'm quite full."

"You could use some meat on your bones."

"So people tell me." Jahni and Sophia mostly.

"And I could stand losing some," Hannibal said, patting his stomach.

Madari glanced at him. He did seem to be carrying some extra weight. That made Madari frown. Last time he'd seen Hannibal had been in Venice, and he'd looked in excellent training. Of course, that was nearly a year ago. Why would he let himself go now?

"Don't worry," Hannibal said. "I'm fit enough for the hike."

"Of course."

Something had happened, Madari knew that. The team had stopped working for their mysterious employers, something Madari felt happy about. He didn't want to see them repeating a mistake. Hannibal had thought he could do good, by filling Stockwell's shoes. But it hadn't worked out.

Madari didn't know the details, but Jahni had started talking to Murdock more often lately, for advice about flying, now he'd started his lessons. He'd mentioned that Murdock had hinted that things ended badly last year. Very badly.

Now the team had decided to go back to their old job, Hannibal had told him, but he sensed Hannibal wasn't entirely happy with that, not yet. It's hard to go back. You expect things to be the same as before.

They never are.

~~~~

They finished the apple pie with breakfast, the only people up so early, barely six a.m., then broke camp and packed everything they'd be leaving here in the car and secured it in the trunk. At last, they put on their hiking boots and helped each other on with their packs. The weather promised a fine day, blue sky already.

Hannibal went to lock the car for the last time and while waiting for him. Madari put on his new hat, though loosened off the strap and let it lie on the top of his pack for now, until the sun rose higher. When Hannibal came back from the car, he wore his own cowboy hat, and carried a couple of sturdy hiking poles. He handed the shorter of the two to Madari, then handed him the car keys and turned his back.

"Put them in that small zip pocket on the left, the top one. Thanks. Okay, you set? Here we go."

He led Madari to the small wooden archway that marked the start of the trail. It looked almost foolish. Nothing prevented them walking either side of it. It was ceremonial, Madari supposed. It marked the start of the journey.

They walked under the arch and onto the trail.

~~~~

Hannibal had chosen a challenging trail for them. Madari kept himself fit, of course, but running on the treadmill in the gym at the barracks was a different thing from hiking over rough terrain. So it felt very pleasant to get off his feet at lunchtime, sit on a sun-warmed rock, with a stunning view, and enjoy their simple meal.

They sat enjoying the sun and a smoke after lunch, and after a while, Madari felt the need to fill the silence. They hadn't talked much so far, difficult to on the trail. He had something he'd been waiting to ask Hannibal for quite some time now.

"Hannibal, did you and your team ever rob any other banks, besides the Bank of Hanoi?"

Hannibal stared at him for a moment and Madari feared he'd offended him. However, after a moment Hannibal chuckled. He took a drink from his water bottle.

"We never got quite that desperate for money. Close a couple of times."

"I don't mean while you were on the run," Madari clarified. "I mean before the Hanoi mission."

"What are you on about?" Hannibal sounded amused.

Madari shook his head, wanting to laugh at himself. "It's just something Kahil picked up when he was doing his SAS training. A story someone told him."

"That the SAS rob banks as training in getting into secure targets?"

Now it was Madari's turn to stare. "You've heard that too? Is it true?"

Hannibal shrugged. "I'd believe anything of those mad bastards." He grinned and winked. "Don't tell Kahil I said that. But, I'm not in the SAS."

"No, but you're Special Forces. And if one Special Forces unit does it, then it makes sense that others would."

"That would make sense," Hannibal said. He gazed out at the view again, his expression neutral.

"Which made me wonder if your superiors chose your team for the Bank of Hanoi raid because you had - um - relevant experience."

Hannibal turned to look at him, face totally controlled. "You know, that's a really interesting theory." He looked away again, and Madari wondered if there was a tiny smile on his face. Hard to say. Maybe just a trick of the light.

"You're not going to tell me anything, are you?"

"Yes," Hannibal grinned and turned back to him. "I'm going to tell you to put that new hat of yours on and fall in."

~~~~

The weather stayed fine that afternoon and the views were breathtaking. Madari found himself missing Jahni already, wished he walked here too, at Madari's side, his hand in Madari's own. That made him smile. It would get them some strange looks from the other parties they ran into on the trail.

Making good time, they reached their campsite by four o'clock, well ahead of schedule.

"We need to slow down tomorrow," Madari said, as they set up their tent and gear. "We should have taken another two hours to get here."

"I know," Hannibal said. "Slow down and smell the flowers." He laughed. "I'm not used to having the time to do that. Nearly always trying to get someplace fast."

"We just have to keep remembering, this is a vacation, not Tactical Advance to Battle. Well, since we're here, I'll make some tea."

They took their mugs of tea to the bank of a fast running stream and sat there, enjoying the late afternoon sun. Silence stretched for a while, broken by the sound of voices as another party of people arrived at the campsite.

"Company," Hannibal said, getting up, with their empty mugs. "Sounds like kids. Better go make sure they know how to set up camp right in the backcountry. Don't want them attracting bears down here."

He hurried off and Madari followed more slowly. The new group were mostly young people, a couple of older ones among them. It made Madari smile to see the huge packs the youngsters carried. His and Hannibal's were about half that size. Civilians expected a few more of the comforts of home on the trail than soldiers did.

Hannibal hadn't gone over to them after all, just back to his and Madari's pitch, organising their cooking equipment for dinner later, and watching the new group. There was that caution again, Madari thought. Suspicion. He lost it quickly, after checking out the group, but he'd been quick to come and take a look at them.

"Is everything all right?" Madari asked him quietly, joining him by the tent. "You seem very wary of other people."

Hannibal looked up and started to laugh, but it was artificial and he stopped quickly, his face becoming serious.

"Sit down," he said, quietly. Madari sat, close to Hannibal to hear his soft voice.

"That job I did, Stockwell's job, it made me some enemies. I just tend to look over my shoulder a lot these days." The laugh he gave this time sounded bitter. "A lot like the old days, huh? I guess I had a small window of normal and then back to old times." He shrugged. "Truth is though; I guess I never had 'normal', made too many enemies over the years. Of course, a lot of them are in jail, but they won't be there forever."

"I've heard a saying. Friends come and go, but enemies accumulate."

"Yeah, well, I've accumulated a lot of them. Not sure I agree on the friends part. I've accumulated a few friends too."

"Hi," a young man from the group still pitching their tents interrupted them. He wore a friendly smile, in a scrubbed pink face and offered his hand to them. They both stood to shake it.

"I'm Chris. Just wanted to say hi, since it looks like we'll all be sharing the site tonight. Feel free to come on over and join us for a pot luck dinner later."

"Thanks, Chris," Hannibal said. "Maybe we'll do that."

"We'll try to keep the noise down too. We might be singing a little later, just a few hymns."

"As long as it isn't heavy metal, I probably won't even be able to hear it," Hannibal said. The kid laughed and hurried off to help his friends.

"Will we go to sit with them?" Madari asked Hannibal. "They seem nice."

"They're a church group," Hannibal said. He nodded at the older man with the party. "Probably the pastor. You going to be okay with that?"

"Of course." He winked at Hannibal. "Some of my best friends are Christians."

"I know, but some of these people tend to be a bit evangelical. Of course, they'll probably leave you alone. It's me I'm worried about." He sighed. "Someone is going to ask me if I'm saved, I just know it."

~~~~

They did join the group for dinner, taking along their own food to share and the two of them chatted with the man who was, as Hannibal guessed, the pastor, and his wife. Madari sensed some awkwardness, once they realised he wasn't an American or a Christian. When one of the youngsters brought out a guitar, signalling the start of the hymn singing, Hannibal and Madari took their leave, and settled in front of their tent for a late cigar.

"Times are changing," Hannibal said. "Used to be the kids annoyed the adults playing rock and roll. Now they've chased us off by singing hymns." He sighed. "The world is changing my friend. It really is."

"It always changes. Change is normal."

"Seems to be changing faster lately. Berlin Wall, Cold War, just..." He snapped his fingers. "Gone. Forty years and it all just ends nearly overnight."

"I'm not mourning for the Soviet Union." Madari heard the harshness in his own voice and saw Hannibal glance at him in the soft light of the lantern. He went on quickly. "Things are changing in my region. Perhaps I didn't realise until I started the new unit, and found myself on, what would you call it, the sharp end. Religious fundamentalism is surging. It disturbs me greatly. Especially when these people are prepared to use terrorism to further their ends."

"Seems like even that changes," Hannibal said. "Used to be with terrorists, you knew what they wanted. United this. Separate that. Free whoever. Now, it's all so... nebulous. Religious terrorism." He shook his head, and Madari followed his gaze to the young people sitting a few yards away, singing. "How the hell does that work?"

Madari couldn't imagine how. Despite everything he'd learnt in the last couple of years, he still didn't understand why young people, no different from those youngsters he sat watching now, became killers in the name of religion. Different world, as Hannibal said.

"It's not the world I used to know." Hannibal's voice was low, Madari barely heard it. "Not sure where I fit now. Maybe don't fit at all."

"Hannibal, you always struck me as very... adaptable. And you certainly aren't tied to convention."

Hannibal didn't look at him, stared out into the darkness. "I'm not the man I was."

"We all grow old, my friend."

"I'm not talking about age. I never let age bother me. It's more..." he hesitated, then, still not looking at Madari, he went on. "I took Stockwell's job, and I messed up and people died. Innocent people. A lot of them."

Silence for a moment, Madari tried to think of a response, but Hannibal continued before he did.

"When I say I'm not the man I was, I don't mean I'm getting old. I mean, I'm not as good a man as I thought I was. It didn't feel good finding that out."

"You made a mistake."

"It was more than that. It was arrogance. I let the power go to my head. Arrogant enough to think I could handle it. I couldn't. I've got something inside me that's no better than Stockwell had. Okay, I realised that, I got out, before I got too deep. But that lesson had a hell of a price, and I'm not the one who paid heaviest..."

Madari reached over and put his hand on Hannibal's shoulder, seeing the pain in his eyes, mixed up with shame and grief.

"We all have evil inside us. I'm no different. I did something, during my time as a guerrilla." When Hannibal looked at him, he took a shaky breath, kept his hand on Hannibal's shoulder, seeking strength from him. "I... I had a prisoner tortured. I have regretted it every day since, even though if I hadn't done it, Kahil would certainly be dead now."

He wouldn't have blamed Hannibal if he'd pushed Madari's hand from his shoulder, disgusted by his touch, but instead, he raised his own hand and laid it on Madari's forearm. He didn't speak. After a moment, Madari went on.

"We have to face the potential for evil we all have in us. So we can be on our guard against it."

"Yeah." Hannibal sighed heavily, and moved his hand away from Madari's arm. Madari took his hand from Hannibal's shoulder. "Yeah. It's an ugly thing to have to face. It's taking me a while to get used to it. We - the team that is - like I told you, we're talking about doing the old job again, hiring out to help people. I want to. It's just... I wonder if I'm still up to it." He laughed. "And yeah, I am talking about age there too!"

"No, I don't think you are. Age is an excuse. You've had a blow to your confidence, to your sense of yourself. If you get over that, then age will be the last thing on your mind."

"I like your thinking. But I'm not sure my hearing, or my knee joints will respond much to an increase in my confidence."

"Your mind is what matters, Hannibal. You're a thinker, a planner. Let the younger men do the running around. You just tell them where to run."

Hannibal grinned. "I can do that." He sobered. "We've talked a lot about Face taking the lead more in the field. I think he's proved himself as a commander."

"You've told me that, yes, it sounds like a good idea."

"It's time I let him out from under my shadow." A touch of bitterness there.

"Circumstances dictated the way your unit had to work, Hannibal. If things had been different, you'd have brought Face on in a different way, you know that."

"And he'd have moved up and out. Been a colonel himself by now. The way things will be with you and Kahil in the end."

"I... yes." Madari admitted, not wanting to look too far into the future there. "He's making fine progress."

"Kahil's got what it takes. Going all the way to the top that one. I've already got a bet going with Murdock that he'll be full bird by age thirty-five."

"Murdock is betting against him?"

"He says the kid's too feisty and will tick someone off enough to delay it for a couple of years."

"I see. I'll have to warn him not to be so... feisty."

"Don't do that. His guts are what will get him there!" Hannibal laughed. "Believe me; I know more about this stuff than Murdock."

"He'll be happy to hear about your confidence in him." Madari gave a small sigh. "Perhaps it will... I don't know... never mind."

"Problem?"

"Just that... He is doing so well, you know that. He does his job superbly. However, I'm starting to worry about the effect it's having on him. He seems to grow harder, more cynical all the time. Even... soulless."

Hannibal nodded. "It can take some men that way for a while, especially Special Forces. Get so good at killing, we... he starts to think that's all he's good for. It should only be temporary as long as you do your job."

Madari frowned at that. "My job? Doing my job as his commander has made him into this." Some anger rose in him then. Hannibal was meant to understand.

"I meant your job as his friend," Hannibal said, in a soft voice, and Madari's anger vanished at once. "To help him have faith in himself, in his humanity. It's not easy, being someone's commander and his friend. Making him the best soldier and helping him be the best man he can be aren't always compatible goals. But you can find a balance between them."

"As you did."

"I tried."

~~~~

Hannibal woke to the morning light glowing through the sides of the tent to find himself alone. Madari's sleeping bag was rolled up and the ground pad gone, along with the man himself. Hannibal checked his watch. Five forty-five. Maybe he'd gone on patrol. Old habits die hard. That made Hannibal grin. More likely just in the habit of early waking. Hannibal considered going back to sleep, hoping Madari would wake him with coffee and breakfast in a couple of hours, but his bladder had decided "since you're up."

So he got out of the sleeping bag and pulled on some clothes, until he was decent enough to wander around the camp without scaring any of the church kids. He unzipped the tent flap and poked his head out.

Madari wasn't patrolling, or making breakfast. He was praying, using the bedroll as a prayer mat. He faced east, into the sunrise, and the view into a valley, his voice a soft murmur. Hannibal froze in place at once, not wanting to interrupt or distract him. After a moment, he pulled his head back inside and decided that maybe he'd brush his hair and tidy up his sleeping gear before he went out.

A few moments later, he could no longer hear Madari's voice, but he could hear him moving around quietly, so he ventured outside, all the way this time. Madari nodded a good morning to him, from where he knelt by the camping stove.

"Coffee?" He raised the pot.

"Thanks. Excuse me a second."

Hannibal came back a few minutes later to the aroma of fresh coffee enticing him.

"I hope I didn't disturb you," Madari said, as he handed Hannibal a mug.

"Don't think so. Light woke me up." Hannibal sat and snuggled his arms in the thick sweater he'd donned, the air still chilly at this time of the morning. They were the only ones moving around at this hour, so they kept their voices down. "I haven't seen you doing that for a while. You know, if you want to stop during the day for prayer times, just say the word."

"No, it's fine. I just...." He waved a hand towards the view into the valley. "I woke up and came out and the sun was coming up, and it was so beautiful. I just felt moved to pray." He sipped his coffee for a moment. "Perhaps our young hymn singing friends inspired me. My religious observance is not what it should be, I'm afraid."

"Hey, I can't judge," Hannibal said. "Come Sunday morning you're more likely to find me with the sports page, coffee and a cigar than in church. I mean I tried to take those with me to church, but people looked at me funny."

"Hannibal!" Madari sounded quite scandalised. "I'm not saying I've lost my faith," he went on, "but the rituals of it seem less important to me than they used to."

"If you were anyone else I'd say you were more cynical about it. But you, you're one of the least cynical people I know. And after some of the crap you've been through, that's something. Became pretty cynical myself for a while, long time ago. Mostly got over it." Madari looked away, at that beautiful, faith inducing view again. He didn't speak for a moment.

"Cynicism implies loss of hope," he said eventually. "And that leads only to despair. I lost hope for a while. But I found it again. Found..." He stopped. Hannibal waited, but he didn't continue.

Found him? Hannibal wondered. Jahni, a friend who gave hope. Those two had something he recognised. A mutual support, giving and receiving strength, just as Hannibal and the team had, in their darkest time, and every day after that. Jahni seemed to be the one with the most strength to give, Madari the one with the most need to draw on that. But what they talked about last night gave Hannibal a clue that it didn't all go one way. Any more than it did on the team. People assumed things. That Hannibal was always the strong one, yet there'd been times he'd had to reach out for support. He'd always found it.

He'd found support last night too, from this newer friend. Not as close, yet someone he knew he could rely on. His fears seemed less in the daylight, he almost felt foolish for revealing such insecurity. Nevertheless, he couldn't deny the truth of what he'd said. The world had changed, and he felt left behind by it. Strange, so strange, he'd always been so adaptable.

Looking at Madari, he thought here was a man who in many ways was far more conservative and conventional. Yet he didn't seem left behind. He'd found a role in the changing world, commanding his unit. Madari must be more adaptable than he appeared, and Hannibal perhaps more stuck in his ways. The fears came back, despite the daylight and Hannibal sighed.

Maybe he should retire.