August 24 --- Vivere Pericoloso

"I thought I was part of the team!"

"You are. In a modified support position." Hannibal sighed. "Look, Amy, you've seen the kind of people we go up against. Logic says you stay in the safe - well, relatively safe positions."

"You already taught me how to shoot."

"That was so you could defend yourself or one of the team. And that's only if your position is compromised. That's a lot different from going on the offensive. You leave that to us. You know the kind of training and experience we've had."

"But how can I gain the experience if you don't let me?"

"The subject is closed, Amy."

Hannibal started walking away, expecting Amy to accept his decision the same way the guys did. The grumbling would probably continue for a while, but in the end, she would do as she was told.

Wrong.

"Well, alright. If I can't be a full member of your team, I can always go back to my original plan. With all the publicity I've gotten for you guys, a book should sell like hot cakes."

Hannibal stopped, cigar halfway to his mouth. "You really think that's a good idea, Miss Allen?"

Amy stiffened but stubbornly continued. "I think it's a very good idea for someone who's only an auxiliary member of this team. After all, I have to have something to do while waiting for the menfolk to finish their work."

Hannibal considered his alternatives. He could go "full colonel", as Murdock put it, but that probably wouldn't get the same reaction from her as it did the guys. He could try to reason with her, but she could out-stubborn even BA. What if he called her bluff? It would take time for her to write the book and go through the whole publishing schtick... How much damage could she cause if she was pissed when she wrote it? How many secrets would she give away? Would she be that petty? He didn't think so, but they'd stayed alive not fully trusting anyone.

"Alright, Miss Allen. I'm willing to try it. But if I think the job is too dangerous, you'll maintain your current status. No argument. If you do take a more active part, you'll work with Face. You will do exactly what he tells you to do, when he tells you, and there will be no arguing with him. Is that understood?"

"Why Face? You already know I can work his scams, and - "

"You'll work with him because BA is hand-to-hand - which you will never do - and Murdock is, well, Murdock. Face can handle his job and still watch out for you."

"He won't like it any more than I do, you know."

"Won't be the first time he hasn't liked my orders. But he'll follow them. Make sure you do."

With that, he left the room, feeling that maybe, just maybe, he'd been wrong to let her in in the first place.

*****

It was over a month before Hannibal decided Amy could "actively" participate. The job was simple. A local gang was trying to stake out their territory. Surveillance told him there were less than a dozen kids - although 'kids' wasn't really accurate. The youngest was almost legal, the rest in their early twenties. But they had no problem with violence. It had started with strutting around tipping over garbage cans and keying car doors, escalating to broken windows and break-ins. Then they beat up a store clerk, not much older than they were. They hadn't yet resorted to using guns, but Hannibal wanted to move in before they did.

Yeah, it should be simple. These weren't hardened criminals. Well on their way, but no match for the team. It was a good case for Amy to try her new role. Face still wasn't happy about it - none of them were - but he'd worked with her over the past weeks. A little too gung-ho in his methods, according to Amy, but Face was at least satisfied that she wouldn't accidentally shoot anyone. And both he and Hannibal told her, point blank, that if things got out of hand she was to back off. This was a trial run.

Privately, Hannibal was more direct with her. No trying to prove something. Screw this up and she was out. Book or no book.

*****

"What if they come out this door instead of in front?"

"Then you do what I taught you. Point your gun at them but keep your finger off the trigger. If they move, then shoot at the ground in front of them. But don't worry - they'll stop, believe me." Face grinned as he pulled the pin on the smoke grenade and lobbed it through the window.

"Now, just wait..."

*****

Things actually went relatively smoothly. The gang's headquarters was a basement in a derelict building. Narrow hallway, steps leading up to the front door, battered back door opening to a weed-infested backyard. One window. The grenade through said window had the gang members predictably racing up the stairs to the front door, where Hannibal, Murdock, and BA were waiting. Even though the crooks easily surrendered, coughing and swearing, Hannibal was glad he'd posted Face and Amy at the back door. He'd wanted Amy in the least vulnerable position - without her noticing - and it had worked out nicely.

Until he realized they were missing the gang leader.

It happened so suddenly Hannibal wasn't sure he'd actually heard it. But then there was a second shot. He glanced at the others, heard BA shout, "Go!", found himself running down the stairs, through the hallway, yelling a warning as he burst through the back door.

And found his worst nightmare.

The gang's leader was laying on the ground, blood covering his chest. Amy stood like a statue, staring at the body, revolver hanging limply from her hand. And Face was standing further away, hands on his hips, staring up at the sky.

The gang leader, looking so, so young, was dead.

Hannibal ignored Amy and headed straight to Face.

"What the hell happened here?"

Face was silent for what seemed forever, then sighed and turned to Hannibal.

"We heard you guys shooting out front. We - I - thought you had them." His shoulders sagged. "It was my mistake, Hannibal. I let down my guard, then that guy - " he waved at the body - "came running out. He had a gun. Saw Amy first, and went for her. She did what I told her to. She pointed the gun toward the ground in front of him ready to fire. But he aimed right at her. So... I shot him. I didn't mean to kill him. But I guess he finally saw me... he turned as I fired and..." He looked back at the sky. "I only meant to disarm him, Hannibal. I swear. But..."

"I know, kid. I know..."

*****

"It wasn't his fault, Hannibal."

"I know that. That's why we're here."

Amy sighed, staring at the planes maneuvering on the apron. "So... what happened to the... the body?"

Hannibal shrugged. "The less you know, the better. At least that way I won't be reading about it in your book."

He wasn't being nice, and he didn't care.

That night, that god-awful night, BA and Murdock had herded their prisoners back into the basement apartment, tied and gagged. Hannibal met them in the hall, issued some sharp 'don't ask' orders and went back outside. Amy had still been numb, and Face... Hannibal couldn't believe that he was able to function, but there he was, trying to get Amy to come back from wherever she'd gone.

For once, Murdock kept his mouth shut and helped Hannibal and BA roll the body up in an old rug. They put it in the back of the van, rushing in case someone reported the shots. Then Murdock and Face, with Amy between them, hurried back to the apartment they'd been using as headquarters. BA and Hannibal drove off without saying a word.

The two men drove to another abandoned office building a few blocks away. The body was left in a first floor office. The still-living members would think their boss had just run off. After all, they hadn't known anyone was in the back. And the cops would figure he'd gotten shot by a rival gang when he was on his own.

Hopefully.

It was a grisly task that no one wanted to think about, let alone talk about. Despite Hannibal's protests, BA had dropped him at the apartment and left to clean up the van. No one slept that night. Well, except Amy, who got a tiny taste of BA's knockout drops. They left early the next morning. After dropping first Amy and then Murdock off, the three remaining men left for Hannibal's. It went without saying that they'd all be staying there for a while.

Amy hadn't been contacted by anyone except a couple of calls from Murdock. He was the one who finally got her side of the story. She hadn't done what Face told her to do. She hadn't been aiming at the ground. She'd frozen, never even raising her gun when that man had come barreling out of the basement. She had fired into the grass beside her, an involuntary reflex to Face's shot.

If she'd done as she'd been taught...

It had taken several weeks before Face could actually accept that it wasn't his fault a man had been killed. Supposedly. Nobody believed that issue was totally over. Hannibal blamed himself for that. He should have told Amy to go ahead and write the damn book if that's what she wanted. He should have known better.

At least he knew what to do about it. He just needed to find a way.

Then world affairs provided the perfect, if odious, opportunity. A massacre in Jakarta. He placed calls. Al Massey. Jim Baker. Hinted at things. Suggested others. More calls, anonymously, to the editor of Amy's newspaper. Somber, insinuating, reminding him of all the stories about the team, how the military was getting more and more interested in a certain reporter, how they might look more closely at the newspaper itself. And for once, Hannibal's plan worked perfectly. Now he and Amy were at the airport, waiting for her flight out of the country.

Out of their lives.

And she could have as much, or as little, danger as she wanted. He no longer cared.