EeeeekkkZOMGtworeviewsI'msohappyrightnowI'!
*Takes deep, cleansing, calming breath*
Ok, sorry about that.
thanks and a whopping plate of cookies to:
dramagoddess202 (I'm in love with the username, by the way): wow, thank you so much! I really hope you like this next chapter! P.S, You are awesome
rubberducky2010: HI! *waves hand spastically* I can not tell you how thrilled I am that you like this! You are awesome, too! :D
And now, without further ado, I give you: the next chapter...
They sit in the van, idling before a squat, minuscule house; with peeling robin's-egg blue paint and a sagging porch, surrounded on all sides by tall, sturdy trees that abruptly give way to a swaying ocean of corn, it's the very image of country-bumpkin innocence.
Hannibal, however, had learned a long time ago to never, ever trust someone—or, in this case, something—based on looks alone, and, with that in mind, he ordered B.A. to drive by not once, but twice, to check the perimeter, much to Murdock's dismay. Now, they're sitting motionless, like four highly-wanted ducks, practically triple-dog daring anyone watching the house to come investigate.
Face sighs and blearily runs a hand over his eyes, rubbing the sleep away; beside him, Murdock bounces in his seat, hand on the door handle, like an anxious dog ready to bolt at his master's command.
Face shakes his head in an attempt to dislodge the image of Hannibal tossing a ball for a collar-wearing Murdock, and decides that he needs more sleep.
"All clear now, Bossman?" the pilot asks hopefully, eyes shining with something that the conman can't quite put his finger on.
"Just a minute, Captain." Hannibal replies, his voice as tense as his shoulders; Murdock's crest-fallen face has Face reaching over to lay a reassuring hand on his friend's back.
"Don't worry, Murdock—after all, the Jedi master does know best." It takes Murdock's insane little giggle and B.A.'s muttered "Aw, hell, no, not another one." for him to grasp what he just said, and when he does it takes all of his willpower not to bash his head against the window; yes, he definitely needs more sleep, and maybe a little less time spent around the Star Wars loving pilot.
"Hey, Facey, you're startin' ta sound just like me!" Face turns toward Murdock, mouth open to reply, when something in the other man's face stops him, and he realizes that it's happiness that's making his friend's eyes glow like two brand-new light bulbs; happiness, mixed with a little bit of anticipation and a pinch of crazy sprinkled over the whole thing.
Just then, Hannibal gives the green light, but to proceed with caution.
Murdock is out of the van faster than Face can unbuckle his seat belt, and by the time he gets to the door the pilot is fumbling with a key found under an extremely large and extremely dead fern. Once the door is opened, they file into the pitch-black house; the conman closes the door, turns, and promptly trips over something—a pile of shoes?—and plows head-first into the leafy arms of another dead plant. There's just enough time for Face to mentally ask 'why me?' before both hurtle to the floor, the pot breaking into hundreds of pieces with a particularly loud crash! and dry fertilizer spilling across the dull brown carpet like sand. Murdock switches on the light and the three of them simply stare at their sputtering comrade with resigned looks.
"Hey, Bossman?" Murdock asks, without taking his eyes off of the spectacle before him.
"Yes, Captain?"
"Remember how you wanted me to wake Shannon gently so we could introduce ourselves?" the colonel nods, "Yeah, well, I don't think that's gonna happen."
"No, Murdock, I think not." Maybe it's just the soil in his ears, but Face can almost hear the thinly-veiled chuckle in the older man's voice.
Just as he manages to detangle himself from the offending foliage, stand up, and spit the last of the dirt out of his mouth, a new, snarling voice cuts through the air.
"And who the fuck are you?" The A-Team turns simultaneously to face a wild haired and equally wild eyed woman standing next to an end table littered with assorted cutlery and paintbrushes.
She's gripping a bat so hard that her knuckles are pale as snow and she looks pissed.
Face swears she's almost growling at them.
Then, Murdock takes a tiny step forward and the second her eyes land on him her face drains of all color, like she's seeing a ghost.
"James?" she breathes, lowering the bat as the feral look in her eyes fades to something resembling disbelief; Murdock's answer is simply the brightest grin he's worn in a long time.
That grin, however, is short lived as a half-filled glass goes flying by his head and shatters on the wall at his back. The pilot looks behind him at the wet spot marking where the glass collided with the unfortunate barrier, then back to the woman—Shannon?—who raises a trembling hand.
"Don't you ever," the word is properly emphasized by an angry shake of her finger, "ever disappear on me like that again." She takes a deep breath and, gradually, the fury and doubt reluctantly give way to something deeper, more elusive, as Murdock's mouth curl upward into a soft smile.
"I won't." he vows as he lifts his hand, pinky extended, "Pinky promise." A cross between a chocked sob and a laugh bursts from her lips as she launches herself into the pilot arms.
Face looks down at the devastated plant, then at the destroyed remains of the glass, then back again and hopes that the rest of their stay here isn't as eventful as the past two minutes.
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