Spoilers: A Nice Place to Visit
Author's Note: This chapter is for Liz, you rock! She has helped me with such kind words, and has given me the swift kick in the pants I needed to post this chapter and pick up the pen. Thanks so much! You mean a lot to me! This one's for you!
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It was dark, the kind of darkness that reached out for you and wrapped its tentacles around your ankles to trap you and prevent you from leaving. He tried to fight his way out; he knew that the darkness didn't always stay black. It was like a movie theater right before the film started. He clawed and crawled, but it didn't release its grip. He tried to scream, to call out for help but his throat suddenly felt clogged; no sound would come out. His vocal cords had stopped working.
No, he thought, not again. No!
But despite his protests, he found himself back in East Germany. He paused a moment and closed his eyes, maybe if he could try to will himself to wake up… but a gunshot made his eyes fly back open. More shots were heard and he felt himself running through the street, with his unit right beside him. He could see the river in front of them; they were going to make it, they were too close not to. Bits of concrete broke up and snapped at their heels as the bullets continued to follow them. He heard John yell that this was the most FUBAR'ed mission he had ever been on. Mike agreed silently, but yelled back encouragement for everyone to run faster.
"GO, JACK, COME ON WE'RE ALMOST TH-" His voice cut off in the moment that Jack dreaded the most. He knew what was going to happen, but was powerless to stop it. He wanted to wake up now. He stopped where Mike had fallen in the street, and dragged him to an alley. They had been so close, so close. He looked over his best friend and knew instantly that he wasn't going to make it. It was a miracle, no a curse, that he was still alive, albeit for a short time. The other men back in the boat were screaming at him to come on, they had seen Mike get hit and knew that there was nothing more they could do. Jack was just wasting time over the inevitable.
"Grab him and let's go!" John yelled, but his voice was oddly warped in his nightmare.
Jack tried desperately to stop the bleeding, to offer any comfort, though in vain, because Mike was still looking at him. He was glued to his eyes. They were begging, pleading, and made Jack remember a previous conversation…
"Jack, you ever think about after?" Mike had asked him once.
"After what?"
"You know… death,"
He had laughed at that, Mike was always thinking of things that the rest of them thought were beyond their control. What ever came afterwards came; there was nothing they could do to stop it. The only difference was that in their line of work they were more likely to find out sooner than most.
"You're getting a little too philosophic for my blood, Mikey me boy,"
"I mean it Jack. I joined up to do some good, and it's okay to die if I know that there's something… else, something more. But, I don't want to waste my life."
"Now, you-"
"Hear me out Jack! If there's just death and that's it, then I don't want to die. I have my whole life ahead of me. I want a family. I…I don't want to die. I'm…I'm scared."
Jack had been rudely awakened at that comment. Mike, his best friend, was afraid to die. Hell, deep down they all were. But it wasn't something he wanted to think about, so he had ordered two more beers.
They had gotten smashed that night, and were so bad the next morning that the rest of the unit had had a great time making their lives hell.
Jack just stared at Mike. His eyes were cruelly drawn to the gory mess that was his friend's neck. The blood was everywhere; it was all over his hands, his shirt, his pants, the sidewalk…
Then things changed as only they can do in the dream world. Mike sat up and raised his finger, stabbing Jack in the chest. He threw his head back, revealing the damage done by one lucky bullet, and let out a maniacal laugh.
The sound rippled through Jack's chest and head. He shook himself in a desperate attempt to rid himself of the damning sound, but it only intensified. He covered his ears with his red hands, transferring the blood to his head. He tried to beg Mike to stop but his throat still continued to emit no sound.
Then the blood on his hands started to warm. It got hotter and hotter until it began to boil, burning his hands underneath and his ears and his chest. Anywhere the blood had touched him was now on fire. The pain was excruciating breaking through whatever wall had blocked his voice and finally, he let out a scream of his own.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Murdock had been unable to fall asleep. He had been shaken by his earlier encounter with Milligan, and was afraid that if he let his guard down the monster would knock down his door and get him. So he had fallen to pacing. He was currently debating whether or not to call Face; maybe he could get him out of there, even if it would just be for a little bit. He had an appointment with Doctor Richter the day after tomorrow.
Giving in, he went over to his bed, picked up the phone and began dialing. After the first ring, a bloodcurdling scream reverberated from across the hall. The pilot blanched when he recognized the voice and hung up the phone. He ran to the door and realized that the orderlies hadn't yet gotten there. He wanted to run across the hall and bring his new friend out of it, but he couldn't: his door was locked.
"Jack! Hey muchacho, it's just a dream!" he wondered if he could even hear him, but he continued nonetheless, "Hey flyboy, come out of it!" Slowly, the screaming lessened in intensity, but before he could say anything more, three men in white came running around the corner. They made their way into the room and in a matter of seconds the screaming stopped entirely.
Normally Murdock didn't protest with the way things were run at the VA, it was a good hospital after all, but he couldn't help but feel angry at their intrusion. He was getting through to the man; they didn't have to drug him. People at the hospital were too eager to rely on drugs to get things done.
Gosh darn it!
Murdock kept looking through the little grate on the door until he saw all the orderlies leave the room and return to wherever the orderlies went. But he never returned to his bed, instead he sat down with his back against the wall right next to the door, holding vigil in case the nightmares revisited his friend. He'd be there to bring him back, even though he knew that the drugs would do the job for him.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
He didn't know when he had fallen asleep, but the next morning when Alec came to let him out, he found Murdock huddled by the door.
"Hey, HM, come on and wake up big guy," Alec prodded the still sleeping man.
"Five more minutes puweese…" he mumbled before he succumbed to sleep once more.
"Come on Murdock, wake up now," but the night had caught up with him and the captain was too tired to stir.
Jack, now free of the sleeping medications' influence wandered out of his room as Alec was trying to wake his friend. He caught a glimpse of the man's telltale bomber jacket from behind the door where the orderly was crouched. Shrugging his shoulders, he figured he might at least try to help. He didn't know why, but he felt like he owed the man.
"Murdock, I think the nice man here wants you to wake up," Alec looked up to see the new Air Force patient standing behind him. His surprise must have shown on his face because Jack just shrugged and gave him a flashy grin that didn't reach his eyes. He crouched down next to Alec and at his inquiry, the orderly back off letting the man try to rouse the fellow pilot.
"Hey Murdock, don't ya wanna wake up? I'm gonna go get some breakfast, you wanna join me?" His voice made its way into the foggy slumber that Murdock was floating in.
What? Jack? What's he doing here? He had a curiosity that was worse than a cat's, and it was too tempting to try and figure out why the hand-man was in his room.
"You can't come with me when you're asleep,"
"Whaa-?" Murdock mumbled.
"Welcome back to the land of the conscious, boyo." Jack answered in his own exaggerated Irish brogue.
Unable to resist the lure, and now completely awake, Murdock surprised both men with his own Irish accent.
"What's being served? 'R we havin' hash and haggis?"
"Nope," this time, Jack's grin was real, "Scrambled eggs and stale French toast."
"Me fav'rite!" Murdock jumped up, taking Jack with him as he bounced down the hall, leaving Alec in wonderment.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
The happy-go-lucky attitude that Murdock perpetually inhabited slipped slightly when they reached the door to the mess. Jack watched as he scanned the room quickly and quietly before he resumed his diatribe about Billy and how he was teaching him how to open doors. Jack didn't say anything; he just let Murdock think that he was oblivious, but he carefully tucked the detail away in his mind as he had done with the confrontation yesterday.
"But I think that he's just been having a bad couple of days. I mean, he's really smart. Billy's a genius!" then he added in a conspiratorial whisper, "smarter than some people I know."
"Me too," Jack chuckled. Murdock was one helluva guy. "Hey, we never did get to finish our chess game. Actually, we never got to start it. What do ya say that we go outside later and I'll make good on my promise."
Murdock's fork stopped halfway between his mouth and his plate as he remembered why they didn't get to play their chess game. But he shook his head trying to clear away the thought, Hannibal had told him once to never let the enemy alter your life, if it did, then it had won.
"Sure thing Handman, I know just the place!"
"Handman?" Jack asked at the moniker.
"Yup" Murdock nodded. "When I first saw ya, you were looking at your hands. I know a Face, and now I know a Hand" he giggled at the thought.
Handman, I've had worse nicknames.
"Who's Face?"
"A good good friend, maybe you can meet him one day. I think you'd like him. We go all the way back to 'Nam. Face, BA and Hannibal, I was their pilot. The famous A-Team!"
"A-team?"
"Yeah, what are they teaching the kids today?! We were famous!"
Jack just nodded compliantly as Murdock launched into old tales of the A-team and some pretty outlandish mission they had pulled off in the jungles. He even bragged about Face's Cadillac and racquetball club.
"I heard about that!" Jack finally interrupted, "I was shipped into Cambodia for 6 months, right before the end of the war, and some jarheads were saying how they missed that club. I thought they were pulling my chain! You mean to tell me that really happened!?"
Murdock nodded, surprised that Hands had been to Nam, he looked too young.
"Man," Jack snapped his fingers, "And you know the guy who started it…"
"Yup! That's Facey! Hey, would you give me a sec, I'll meet you outside 'kay? By the large oak tree there's a couple of benches. I'll be there in a minute. You get the game though!" And without further a do, the captain zipped out of the room. If you had blinked you would have missed him.
Once more, Jack, now known as Handman, shook his head and cleaned up the mess that they had made.
Eventually, with chessboard in hand, Jack made it outside. He paused in the sunshine, allowing its warmth to fill the cold darkness of his soul that had been torn open by Mike's death. For the first time in a long couple of weeks, he was starting to feel better. He no longer saw faces of the dead in the shadows. He didn't hear their whispers on the wind. He was beginning to feel human again. If only the nightmares would leave him alone. He had done all he could to save Mike; there was just nothing anyone could do to prevent the outcome.
He headed over to the benches, he knew the exact spot Murdock was talking about, and began to set up the board. He had just placed the last pawn in its spot before a bundle of energy sank down across from him.
"Welcome back,"
"Did ya miss me?"
"Absolutely!"
They both grinned before Murdock remembered what he had brought to share. He reverently placed an old picture frame on the table so that Jack could see it.
"Proof, this is me and the guys," he never showed this photo to anyone, and he found himself wondering why he had decided to show it to Hands, " This is BA, the big ole mudsucker, that's me, that's Hannibal, and see there, that's Face!" It was an old photo of the team back in 'Nam. They had all just come of a weekend of downtime in Hawaii so they were all in their Class A uniforms complete with the spiffy hats.
"Who's this?" Jack asked pointing to a man in the middle.
"That's Ray…"
"You never told me about him."
"He's dead," Murdock said somberly.
"Ah," he knew how that felt, and didn't push the issue. But the mercurial man instead continued to tell more tales of the guys. Jack just listened in awe. He and his own unit weren't that close. Murdock and this A-Team sounded more like family as opposed to Jack and his guys, who were just colleagues. Truly only he and Mike had been close. He felt a pang of jealousy as Murdock talked about his team, no his family, with undisguised love. Jack wished that he would someday find himself a team where he could feel that way.
"So, how about that game?" Murdock asked in a lull between stories.
"Sounds good."
And Jack found that it wasn't as easy to "whoop his butt" as he had thought. To his surprise, Murdock was quite a tactician. He should have known though, that when it came to Murdock he was always going to be surprised. The man was entirely impossible to predict, and he found the quicksilver changes amusing.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
That afternoon, both pilots had to go to a group therapy session. Neither was looking forward to it, Jack dreaded it and felt it was a waste of time. He already knew that he wasn't going to be able to give any valuable input into any discussion, so he was already frustrated going into it. Murdock, though, had become silent, and of all of Murdock's quirks that Jack had seen, he could already tell that quiet wasn't a good thing.
Waves of fear rolled off of his friend that he couldn't comprehend, and the closer they got to the Doc's office where the group was waiting, the more tense and still he got until he seemed to almost draw completely into himself.
"Hey Murdock what's wrong?" Jack asked, halting their progress right outside the door, wanting to see if he was all right just before they leapt into the lion's den.
It took a while for the question to register until Murdock looked at Jack. That look stirred something in Jack that made him want to spirit the captain away and find the corner in the hospital that was farthest from the office before them.
"Nothing, muchacho," and he plastered a false grin that made him feel unclean, "I'm just fine. Let's not keep the good doc waiting. " Though, despite his words and his intention to open the door, he froze.
The doctor better watch what he said, Jack vowed. Whatever it was that had Murdock spooked was not going to stand a chance, not with the Handman there to protect him. Jack silently placed his hand on his shoulder in support and comfort and opened the door.
He walked into the room and almost ran over the older pilot when he stopped suddenly. Stepping out from behind him, he saw what had caused all of the odd behavior.
Sitting just across the room, with a chilling, toothy grin was Milligan.
