Melding From Browns to Blues
Summary: From "The Say U.N.C.L.E. Affair" - Murdock worries about returning to a psychiatric hospital. Just a little snippet of a missing scene I thought up while watching this.
A/N - Cleaned this up to repost.
Rated PG
'I'm sane'
The words were scrawled with simple coloring crayon, the S turned in a preschool fashion. Not quite your official document, but nonetheless convincing enough to its owner.
He stuffed his hands deep into his jacket pockets and wandered to the back of the motor home, pondering just how he was going to pull this one off. Hannibal's plans never veered from eccentric and this time was no different, but what was he going to do - throw himself into a wild frenzy so he'd get stuck in a straight jacket again? His fist clenched in anger at the mere thought.
But the decision had been made and he had to think of something. Time was running out.
He glanced to his left, noticed Frankie's stereo and instinctively reached out and flicked the power button. Skipping the ever popular CD player and FM stations, he went for the AM instead. It took a few seconds of fiddling with the tuning dial, but soon the clear waves of music softly pulsed through the speakers.
"For what is a man, what has he got…? If not himself, then he has not!"
Ahh Frank Sinatra - that one voice that could calm a rabid dog if given the chance. Anxiety now took a backseat to melody as he sat back, hands resting behind his head, taking in every lyric.
"The record shows... I took the blows and did it myyy wayyy!"
A grin slowly began to appear on his face in revelation. Yes, Stockwell wasn't the only one who could do it 'his way'. He could do it too. He didn't have to revert into some raving lunatic. He could be that sensational sane man he'd become.
Standing up abruptly, he turned the radio off before the next song could distract him from the plan that was forming. He removed his hat and tossed it aside, then ran a finger through what few hairs he had left of his bangs.
"Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly awayyy…" he began to sing and snap his fingers, mimicking 'Ol Blue Eyes, testing his pitch. Ah yes, it was perfect. That distinct tone, that tenor - he could impersonate it almost perfectly. He carried on with his tune, feeling a transformation deep within, as if someone had flipped a switch right into his soul. It didn't take much to find that obsessive-ness needed to convince him, err them.
All of them.
B.A. heard the singing coming from the rear, winced at the word "fly" and looked at Hannibal, obviously displeased.
"Now you've gone and done it. The man's going to start acting crazy all over again."
Amused, Hannibal drew in a quick draw of his cigar and exhaled.
"Hey he doesn't sound half bad at all," Face chipped in from the other side of the room. "Better than that music Frankie was playing earlier, if you'd call that music."
"You guys just don't know what the good tunes are these days," Frankie called out from the driver's seat. "It's playing all over the dance clubs, man!"
Murdock strode in the doorway, still singing, and gave them all a warm smile as he finished. He changed his tune as quick as a flick of a radio dial.
"I've got youuu… under my skin." He waltzed his way towards B.A., stepping to the beat of his snapping fingers. "Don't you know little foooool, you never can win?"
"Fool? You're calling me fool?" B.A. growled. "Get outta here, Murdock!"
"Captain H.M. Murdock has stepped out for a brief intermission," Murdock told him as he outstretched his arms, as if to present himself after stepping onstage in front of a cheering audience of thousands. "Just call me… Sinatra," He proudly gestured to himself. "Mr. Frank Sinatra."
Hannibal chewed on his cigar, thoroughly fascinated in the new persona Murdock seemed to be playing with. But after studying him carefully, he realized there was something quite different about him.
Was that really a hint of blue in the Ol' Captain's eyes he saw?