Title: Notes

Author: Takada Saiko

Disclaimer: I do not own the A-Team, sadly. I would seriously love to though….

A/N: This is my first crack at an A-Team fic. I actually have an idea for a longer story that has to do with this one, but I've always found it best to start off with a oneshot or two to get to know the characters well before tackling the multichapters. I don't always take my own advice on that, but I will with this one. So, if anything is blaringly wrong according to cannon, please let me know, as I'm not quite through the second season yet.

The lights were dimmed through the hallways, but Templeton Peck knew them well enough to get by. He'd been sneaking into the VA mental ward and sneaking the eccentric – and loony – captain back out for years. He was about sure that the nurses all knew him by this point, but were too fond of him to say anything. The female nurses, at any rate. A grin perked his lips as a pretty blonde passed by him and smiled, her long eyelashes fluttering. He really should think about a change of profession: the VA hospital staff could hire him on full time. After all, he'd had plenty of experience with Murdock and those nurses were awful pretty…

"Former Lieutenant Peck, isn't it?"

Face looked around, startled, at the sound of a male voice behind him. The pretty blonde ducked away, looking slightly embarrassed, and it didn't take the conman long to figure out why. Dr. Richter stood, a slightly bland look on his features, and stared at Face. The blond man swallowed hard, eyes shifting right and left for the nearest escape route – or MPs that were soon to be busting through the door – but only received a tense sight from the psychiatrist.

"I haven't called the authorities," Richter assured the younger man and motioned for him to follow. "And I won't, if you'll come with me, please?"

The halls were now deserted of any of the familiar nurses and Face followed solemnly, tugging the white coat off as they entered the other man's office. The door closed behind him and he felt a sudden sense of dread. He was not fond of the idea of being without an escape from a mental hospital, and somehow it had the potential of a bad horror flick. "What can I do for you?"

"I know that you and your friends spring Mr. Murdock from these premises… often."

"Well…"

Richter raised a hand, silencing him. "You realize, Lt. Peck, that he is a patient under my care, don't you? Under this facility's care."

"All due respect, Doctor, but Murdock's been breaking free of this place since they put him here. I doubt they'll come down on you if you weren't planning on alerting the authorities, and… Well, he always comes back, doesn't he?"

"With signs of the kind of… work… you boys do," Richter responded, but Face was not entirely sure what his opinion was on it. His voice was hesitant, but not afraid, and held a hint of something else, but it couldn't quite be pinned down. His eyes never shifted away from the blond lieutenant.

"Listen, if you're not going to call Decker and his goons, what do you want from me? From what I knew, you never stay here this late."

"I had a feeling you might be coming by for Mr. Murdock tonight," the doctor answered easily. "Have a seat, lieutenant."

Face sat as commanded and felt like a specimen under a microscope by the way that his every movement was followed. He shifted in the chair as the elder man moved around and sat in his chair behind his desk, leaning against it and lacing his fingers together in front of his chin. "There are many things," Dr. Richter began, "that I do not know about Mr. Murdock. He's quite an interesting case, wouldn't you say, Lt. Peck?"

"Murdock is… something else," Face agreed hesitantly.

"He's been here for some time, has been treated for multiple issues, and there are rumors around that he actually drove one doctor off."

"Actually, sir, I don't think that was Murdock's fault. The guy thought he was from a different galaxy and released Murdock."

The very slightest of a hint of a smile perked at the doctor's lips. "I'm sure the nurses embellished a bit." He stopped and sat back in his chair, watching his 'guest's' movements.

"If you don't mind," Face said as he glanced at the clock on the wall, "I have places to be tonight, and if you don't have anything particular to say and you're not planning on calling the military police, I really should be going…"

"I have been weighing the facts back and forth," Dr. Richter continued as if Face had said nothing at all, "and still cannot quite figure out what Mr. Murdock suffers from. It varies so much, I'm sure you know."

"From Billy to wee people and beyond," Face agreed.

"You and… the A-Team? All of you have been together since Vietnam, yes?"

"Yes."

"And Murdock was your pilot?"

"It's all in his records." What was this man getting at?

"You're all very close?"

"I guess so."

"But you leave him here?"

Face blinked, eyeing the other man carefully. "Murdock's sick," he said after a moment, his words coming out slow as if he were weighing them as he spoke them. "What kind of friends would we be to take him permanently away from the care he needs?"

"But you come in and get him?"

"Well, he's part of our team," Face confessed before his eyes widened, a secret slipping from his usually tightly sealed lips before he'd ever known it was leaving. These shrinks were good, he reminded himself, and too good at that. They could pull your deeply buried secrets from the depth of your soul without your ever knowing it. They dealt with vets coming in after the war and were able to help many of them.

"This is in confidence, Lt. Peck," Richter assured him, seeing his discomfort. "Please. There is information that Murdock can't – or won't – give me that I need to treat him."

Face stood. "I don't see how I can help you with that…" He needed to get out and he needed to get out now.

"Sit, Lt. Peck. I hope this won't take much longer." He reached for a file and pulled it so the small lamp illuminated its pages. "One of the many issues that plague Mr. Murdock is memory loss."

"Yeah," Face sighed, knowing that bit all too well. He wasn't entirely sure, but he thought that Murdock might use that to his advantage. He might have been crazy, but he certainly wasn't stupid. Sometimes he wondered if HM Murdock might have been one of those cases that had walked that thin line between genius and insanity and had simply fallen off one day. There were days and missions that he seemed to try to climb back onto that line because it was best for the safety of the team, but by the end he would joyfully leap back off on the side of insanity.

"We've been able, through countless sessions, to find that perhaps it began in Vietnam. There was a crash…"

"There were crashes all over the place," Face deadpanned.

"You should know this assignment," Richter encouraged, flipping through his notes. "I'd hoped perhaps your memory served better than Mr. Murdock's. It was in late '71 and the helicopter that HM Murdock was piloting – without a co-pilot – went down in the jungle, the A-Team on it. The notes indicate that all four of you returned to your base five days later."

A dark expression filled Face's eyes. "If you have the report, why are you asking me, Doctor?" he snapped.

"Do you know the mission, Lieutenant?"

"Yes."

"What I've told you is all I have. It is either because of oversight or secrecy, and I suspect the latter. I'm not asking you for classified information, but only what might give me a clearer understanding on why I received the response I did from Mr. Murdock."

"What response was that?" Face asked, narrowing his gaze at the doctor.

"He'd been quoting Shakespeare and training the invisible dog since he'd entered my office, but as soon as I mentioned this mission he became very quiet and refused to speak. That was last week and he hasn't spoken to me – or anyone for that matter – since."

Face frowned, eyes focused directly on the file lying open on the desk. When he spoke, his voice was flat and emotionless. "The 'copter went down, we were all thrown different directions, and Murdock was taken to a POW camp. I don't know what happened to him there, Doctor Richter, you'll have to take my word for that. He was in and out of consciousness after we sprung him." He closed his eyes, thinking. "We thought, at the time, that he'd just gotten his bell rung pretty good and lost some blood… We were all worse for wear after that one."

"Why was the POW camp not mentioned in the file?"

"Because according to the US government, we never left the ground. We were never there, and if we weren't there, Murdock couldn't have been taken captive." He paused, shifting uncomfortably. "We got him back and were all sent on medical leave for a bit following that. Murdock was always… quirky before the incident, but after he started to have memory loss and dreams and well… I guess it might have led to the way he is today. We were arrested not too long after that."

Richter nodded and made a few notes on the page. "Thank you, Lieutenant. You've been helpful, if you know it or not."

"That it?"

"Yes. I'll tell Mr. Murdock that you stopped by to see him if you wish."

"Wait, what?"

"I never said that you would take my patient from here, Lt. Peck," Richter said, frowning at the younger man. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to leave."

"Now wait just a minute… You sit me down and try get me to tell you the story you needed and then I still have to walk out without Murdock?"

"Better than if I'd called Col. Decker, isn't it, Lieutenant?"

Face visibly deflated and stood. An orderly met him at the door and he was led through the white hallways, to the elevator, and escorted very sternly out the front door. He glared back at the door and saw BA's van move into view. His feet scuffed the ground as he moved towards it, already hearing Hannibal's quips about how he was losing his touch and how Murdock could have gotten himself out in half the time that it had taken Face to return without the pilot.

The door to the van opened, revealing the grinning lunatic. Bitter salt to his wounded pride.

"C'mon, Faceman," Murdock urged and halfway pulled the conman inside.

"What took you so long, Face?" Hannibal asked from the front seat, puffing on a long cigar.

"Dr. Richter decided he wanted to have a chat," Face grumbled. "He wanted to hear a story."

"Ooooo!" Murdock cheered, brown eyes wide and excited. He looked like a child on Christmas morning. "What kind of story? I love stories! Did it have pirates or cowboys in it? I didn't know you told stories, Face."

Face sighed, opening his mouth the respond to the flood of questions, but stopped, looked at Murdock, and his eyes narrowed. "Wait just a second. How'd you get out here? They lock that door from the outside."

"It was unlocked tonight," Murdock answered with a shrug. "Guess the doc forgot to lock it when he left today. Dropped by to say hello. Nice guy, huh?"

Face chuckled to himself as Murdock continued on his stream of consciousness styled talk. BA yelled from the front, Hannibal laughed, and Face settled into the seat, halfway frustrated that he, the best, had been outsmarted by a shrink. Well, at least he'd gotten what he needed and had learned his lesson never to agree to walk into a psychiatrist's office again. He shook his head. All of that for a few missing notes...

A/N: I love the way Murdock rattles on, just as a personal note. I think I like him so well b/c I have a sense of connection. My dad dubbed it 'stream of unconsciousness' with me… I actually had a teacher in high school tell a friend of mine and I that if we taped it, we might be able to sell it. I guess she meant for comedy, who knows? Too many thoughts and just not enough air in the lungs….