Who's Crazy Now?
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The rants, complaints and outlandish theories had reached a fever pitch, signaling one of his men was rapidly approaching his own personal tipping point. Feeling the weight of command more heavily as the years passed, Hannibal sighed as the regret bit deep. He shook off the brief melancholy and straightened his shoulders. It was time to make some calls.
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"B.A.? It's Hannibal. … Say, do you have time for a quick mission, maybe a day or two, three on the outside? … Yeah, I figure we've got a week tops before – thanks, B.A. I knew I could count on you. Can you set things in motion? … Oh, I think this will be a strictly domestic mission, somewhere warm this time, not too far away. … Right. .. Two days? … Sergeant, if you can get things organized that fast – … Okay, B.A., okay, I believe you. Two days it is, unless you hear from me otherwise."
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"Colonel Decker, please. … Decker, Hannibal Smith here. Just wanted to let you know the A-Team is going to come out to play during the next week or so. … C'mon, it won't be fun without you and Crane! … Think of it as an excellent training opportunity for those young pups of yours. … Thanks, Rod. … I'll send you a nice box of Cubans for your trouble."
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"Face, listen, I need … Well, I'm sorry I interrupted your evening, Lieutenant, but we've got a mission in the works and I don't want to have to track you down if things start moving – . … I'm still not sure about it. They've met Mr. Lee and the hot dog vendor but … I can almost smell Decker's hand in this one. … No, I agree, Face, if it's legit, we can't afford to pass it by. Look, I'm going to run 'em out to the pier tonight and then … right, I'll call you or – no, B.A.'s in Chicago, visiting his mom. … Alright, I'll go solo tonight and if they check out, we'll move on it as soon as B.A. can get back. … I expect it'll take him a few days, driving, but be ready. … Don't spring Murdock yet in case B.A.'s delayed. … Not a problem, Face. I'll let you get back to her now. And, Lieutenant, don't do anything I wouldn't do."
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And one last call.
The phone rang three times before being snatched from the cradle. "Hullo?" a young voice said.
"Johnnie? It's Hannibal. Is your dad around?"
"Daddy! It's for you!" the youngster's voice rang out happily. Fortunately for Hannibal's ears, he'd moved the phone away in anticipation of his namesake's shout.
"Murdock's Flights of Fancy."
"Murdock, it's Hannibal. … You, too, Captain. Look, it's Face. … Think you can spare a few days for a mission? … No, the new meds aren't helping much. … I know, I know, we have to give 'em a chance but I'm worried about him. … I don't want a repeat of last August. … B.A. said he'd have things ready in two days. Will that work for you? … Think you can get the van and pick B.A. up? … Yep, at the airport. … Yeah, it's still strange to say that. Thanks, Murdock."
"No problemo, Colonel," Murdock said. He hung up the phone slowly, mentally rearranging his schedule for the next week or so. Being one's own boss definitely had its perks at a time like this.
"What did he want?" Kelly asked tightly from the doorway to her clinic. He could hear one of her patients barking loudly at the office cat.
"The colonel needs me for a mission, pretty girl," he told his wife, hoping to soften the news with a winsome smile. "I won't be gone more than a week."
"Is it a real mission or just another one of those – ," she waved her hand, unable to describe the situation she suspected was about to play out.
"Face needs us and that's real enough for me." He snagged her agitated hands, bringing her close to him. "I know you don't get it. But if Face needs me to spend a few days actin' crazy, I'm gonna do it. B.A. will set up a good scenario for us. Hannibal will be on the jazz. Face will 'break me out' of the V.A. as usual. We'll pummel the bad guys, blow up a few cars, narrowly escape from Colonel Decker, and be home before you know it." He gave her a gentle kiss to seal his promise to return. "And, most importantly, it will be good for Face, calm him down again and let him have some kind of life. For a while."
"How long?" He sighed and looked away at her question.
"Kelly, I can't even begin to guess how long Face will be … stable after this mission. He could go a month or a year, you know that." The longest he'd gone without an episode had been eighteen months; most of the time it was about six to eight months before he started to show worrisome signs. Sometimes one of them could head it off, usually Murdock, but there were no guarantee of that. His medical and military history made him particularly hard to medicate and the docs hadn't hit on the right combination of drugs yet.
"No, I mean, how long are you going to keep doing this?" She pulled away from him and paced to the far end of the room. "It's been, what, eight years since you guys were cleared? Peck just needs to accept reality and stop dragging all of you down."
"Is a week really so much to give, for someone who saved my life and my sanity countless times?" Murdock replied softly and turned away to pack his Howlin' Mad Murdock duffel, before he said something he'd regret. He loved his pretty girl dearly but sometimes the bond between him and the guys was more than she could deal with – especially since an overmedicated Templeton Peck had become violent and broken Murdock's arm in three places last year.
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Murdock pulled his Da Nang jacket and baseball cap out of the closet in the spare bedroom. The smell of leather, chewing gum, and gun oil brought back the memories. He was staggered once again at everything that had happened since the team had been exonerated and feted as heroes, freeing them to live whatever kind of life they chose.
It had proved a bittersweet victory.
B.A. had been eager for a normal life – one in which he could visit his mother without exposing her to danger – and moving to Chicago and back into his old neighborhood had been a natural first step. But when separation from the team had been harder than he'd thought it would be, he'd tackled his fear of flying head on. B.A. had eventually conquered it – and then fallen in love with a stewardess on the L.A. to Chicago route. A year later, he'd proposed to her by singing 'Fly Me to the Moon' during the flight, with the rest of the team backing him up.
Colonel Decker had strongly recommended the military find a place for Hannibal and, after a few false starts, an arrangement had been worked out. An arrangement amenable to both Hannibal and a certain lady doctor in Bad Rock had also been consummated about the same time. Their personal relationship was tumultuous but oddly satisfying, which could also be said of the professional relationship between Hannibal and Decker, with cigars and scotch thrown in for good measure.
With their lives becoming more and more normal – including receiving substantial lump sum payments from the government and Murdock's permanent release from the V.A. psychiatric hospital – there was less pressure to hire out the team's unique blend of talents and consequently fewer opportunities for the four of them to work together as a team.
All of them missed it to some extent, but it proved to be hardest on Face. More than a dozen years on the run, a multitude of identities, with no permanent attachments beyond the team combined to leave Face at loose ends. There wasn't a Maggie or a Kelly or a Momma to anchor him. He had nothing to run from and no one to break out. There was nothing to scam and no one to con.
Hannibal didn't know his lieutenant had a problem until an almost incoherent Face had shown up at Maggie's clinic late one night, panic-stricken. Numerous scrapes, cuts, and scratches had replaced the immaculate appearance he was known for, face gaunt, hair dirty and tangled.
"Someone's taken Murdock from the V.A. I know it. They must have raided B.A.'s flat as well, because there's no one there anymore. Hannibal, we've got to find them. There's no telling who these people are or what they'll do." Hands clenching the front of the colonel's jacket, the usually suave Templeton Peck pleaded with him, blue eyes wild and desperate.
"Relax, Lieutenant, we'll find them. Let the good doctor take a look at you and I'll start making some calls, get the ball rolling, okay?" When Face hesitated, Hannibal added, "Trust me, kid, I've got a plan." He pulled out a cigar for emphasis and clenched it in his teeth decisively.
"Okay, Colonel," the younger man replied, calming at the familiar words and actions. Maggie stepped forward then, gently cleaning what turned out to be minor injuries and giving him an antibiotic. She added a mild sedative at Hannibal's request after he quickly called B.A. in Chicago and Murdock at Kelly's place up state – and found both safe and well.
During the twenty-four hours it had taken the others to arrive in Bad Rock, Hannibal had gently pressed Face for information, taking him over and over his activities for the past two frantic weeks. By the time he'd extracted every detail he could, he had a pretty good idea of what was really going on.
"Gentlemen, we have a problem," Hannibal gravely informed the rest of his team when they arrived. "It's Face. He needs our help – and it looks like he's gonna need it for a long time to come."
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In an episode I watched recently, I noticed the extent to which Face played along with Murdock's psychosis and it got me thinking. I still have a season and a half or so to go, so pardon the miscues; I'm still working on finding their voices.
I do this for fun, not profit; the characters are not mine, the mistakes (without exception) are.