FEB 19
Just Mo
Holiday: Spunky Old Broads Day

Now I know the things I know, and I do the things I do; and if you do not like me so, to hell, my love, with you! - Dorothy Parker

They stood together in the street, watching as the MP's tore out of town. The bikers were locked in the storage room of the hardware store, still cuffed and with an armed guard. Hank was taking no chances with them.

Hank didn't like taking chances.

"Well, Mo, that's that. The Feds will be here late tonight to get these jerks out of here, and then maybe the town can get back to normal."

"Yes, that's good, Hank."

Hank looked at her, noting the faraway tone to her voice. "You okay, Mo?"

"Yes, I'm fine, Hank." She smiled at him. "Just tired, I guess."

"Not too tired for dinner tonight, I hope. It'll be nice to just sit for a while, have someone else do the cooking. Maybe we can talk Lizzie into pulling out a bottle of that wine she's been hiding in the back room."

"Oh, sure, Hank. That'll be nice."

Nice wasn't exactly the word Hank was thinking of, but he let it go. "Okay, well, I'll drop over about six then. Best make sure those guys are still secured." He smiled and nodded before walking away, looking forward to a nice dinner with his girl.

Mo stood for a few more moments, looking at the dust now settling slowly at the end of the street. She wasn't worried about the colonel or the others; after seeing them in action, she had no doubt they'd leave the MPs far behind them.

Suddenly realizing she was still standing in the middle of the street, she turned abruptly and strode back to her house. She had to clean up, and get ready to go to dinner with Hank. The excitement was over now and, as Hank said, things would get back to normal.

She closed the door behind her and stopped, listening to the silence. She felt...dissatisfied. What was the matter with her? She'd come to Bad Rock to get away from the noise and the traffic and the dangers of big cities. She'd seen enough death and destruction in Nam; three months at County General in LA told her that. She'd leaped at the opportunity to take over this small town practice, where the worst injury was a kid's broken arm.

And then those bikers had shown up, and she hated the very sight of them. What right did they have to break her safe and peaceful existence? It was silly, but she took their presence as a personal insult. They were the very people she'd come here to get away from. She couldn't wait until the Feds came to take that scum they called their leader away.

And then Hannibal had shown up...

She dropped her clothes on the bathroom floor and stepped into the shower. She stayed for a long time, until the water turned lukewarm, thinking. Ridiculous, really. Sure, he was good-looking. And he could definitely kiss.

He was also a wanted criminal.

Toweling herself off, she looked over at her watch on the stand. Plenty of time before meeting Hank. The watch was his present to her last Christmas.

She pulled on her robe, shook out her hair and sighed, looking in the mirror. She wasn't exactly young any more, but she'd held together pretty well. At least she thought so.

Apparently so did Hannibal.

What was it they said? No fool like an old fool...

She moved into the bedroom and opened the closet, staring at the clothes that hung there. Nothing fancy. Nothing elegant. Bad Rock wasn't that kind of town. Nothing that called for 'dressy' clothes for a good hundred miles.

And nothing better looking than Hank for more than that.

God, Mo, get a hold of yourself. Hannibal Smith was an aberration. The chances that they would ever meet up again beyond thinking about. Here she was, mooning like a school girl over someone she'd known for all of seven or eight hours.

She glanced at the mirror one final time before stepping out the door. She'd dressed with extra care tonight, and put on the perfume she seldom wore. Even a bit more makeup than usual. If Bad Rock wanted to see elegant, well, this was as close as they'd ever come.

She watched Hank as he ate and talked, talked and ate. She barely touched her own supper. She looked around the cafe. She'd always liked it before, nice, homey. Yesterday she liked it. Tonight it looked dull, drab.

Hank looked dull, drab.

She realized he'd asked her something, and she made embarrassed excuses about being tired, and he paid the bill and walked her home. They kissed goodnight, like they always did, and she watched from the window as he strode back down the street.

She could hear him whistling.

His world was back the way it was supposed to be.

Hers would never be the same.

She wouldn't let it.