Hello again.
Sorry for the silence, but planning a wedding while getting a masters degree takes up a lot of time. (I actually had this finished for the 4th of July, but for some reason or another I just never got around to posting it.) However, my anxiety spiked the other day and I could really use the pick me up, so I thought I would put this up and see what people think of it.
For the record: THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER.
Seriously, this was always meant to be a one-shot, but people kept asking me questions like "What happens when Murdock gets back?" or "When will Pierce accept that Murdock is going to leave and come back whenever he wants?" Each question inspired a new chapter, but this is it. I draw the line here! (Please see endnote for the terms and conditions.)
This conclusion is for Tripidydoodah who wrote the review that sparked the idea that became this chapter. (I feel like the author of "This is the House that Jack Built ...)
Enjoy ...
Pierce strolled down the hallway, automatically heading towards room 104. Checking in with Mr. Murdock had become a natural part of his routine, ever since his return last month. It was a nice little break from the normal duties of an orderly – though it was fast becoming one of them – and gave Pierce some peace of mind. Even though the staff assured him that Mr. Murdock had received nothing more serious than a bruise on his – for lack of a better word – adventure, the man was still in his ward and therefore his responsibility. Besides that, he liked the guy!
Sure, the first dozen or so check-ins had been motivated by paranoia and an intense aversion to paperwork, but after a while … Mr. Murdock was one of those people that just grew on you. Once you got past the moments of random behavior and the invisible dog, he was just a regular guy. It was easy now to imagine why the A-Team would want to visit with him; who wouldn't? The frequent check-ins had become the highlight of Pierce's day.
"Hello, Mr. Murdock," he greeted, looking through the grate on the door. "How's the new comic."
"Finished it this morning," he answered. "They said it was Lex Luther, but I think the butler did it."
Pierce couldn't hold back his smile. Ever since the hospital movie night had played Murder By Death, Mr. Murdock had insisted the butler was to blame for everything from the weather to who ate his new socks – and convincing him that no one had eaten his socks was as futile as trying to figure out why they were found a day later, in a bush, with faces drawn on them.
"I'm sure you're right," Pierce replied, having learned long before not to try correcting him. "Any plans to run off yet?"
"I'll let you know."
Pierce nodded and waved goodbye before returning to his duties. While he doubted that Mr. Murdock would actually confide in him if he was planning another escape, the words had become part of their routine. It was like a game the two played and he was sure his patient was enjoying it as much as he was.
"Hey, Pierce!"
He turned to see Jake jogging toward him. He had been on vacation for the last week and – based on the tan – must have just returned. Pierce paused halfway to the supply room to give him time to catch up and greeted his former trainer with a smile.
"How was Hawaii?"
"Try Fresno," Jake let out a humorless laugh. "I got roped into helping out my uncle on his farm. Not the best vacation I've ever had."
"Sorry to hear it," Pierce replied. "What's up?"
"I have another trainee coming this afternoon and was wondering if you could cover for me in the art room."
Pierce almost winced at the thought. The art room was one of two things: way too boring or way too active. The calmer patients used the room for arts and crafts, usually finger-painting or soap carving. However, fights have broken out – the last one being over a lucky popsicle stick – and when that happens the orderlies usually wind up with paint or some other supply all over them. Still, someone had to make sure no one tried eating the soap – which had happened – or drinking the paint – which had also happened – so Pierce reluctantly agreed.
Two hours into his shift in the art room, he was beginning to regret being so helpful. Whoever had come up with the idea of paper mache as an activity for metal pateints should be shot – repeatedly. It may not be toxic, but two people trying to "make a mask" on a third was still risky, and that wasn't even considering the one who tried to "make a mask" on themselves or the woman who tried to swallow the balloons. With only half an hour left for Pierce in purgatory, salvation walked through the door in a leather jacket and ball cap.
"Hey, Pierce."
"Hi, Mr. Murdock," he greeted, picking flour-based glue and bits of paper off his hands. "We … uh … have paper mache today."
"Okay," he replied, before walking over to a seat at the soap carving table.
It wasn't surprising; it was the craft he seemed to enjoy the most. Granted, there was a three-day period when he thought he was the successor to Van Gogh and tried to create a mural on his bedroom wall using Jello – which he claimed was his only option, as the tyrannical staff would not allow him to take the finger-paint out of the art room – but even he could be consistent at times. Almost ten minutes of carving later, Pierce was starting to wonder how constant he was being.
"That's a skinny swan," the orderly commented, stopping at the soap table.
"Not making a swan today," Mr. Murdock stated, carefully curving one end of the thin rectangle he had carved. "I'm making a key."
Pierce watched for a few more minutes as the white block began to change shape into a classic skeleton key. He may not be Van Gogh, but Mr. Murdock was a decent sculptor when he put in effort. But why a key? Pierce hesitated to ask about it, especially when he remembered some of his patient's previous answers. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.
"What made you decide on a key today?"
"Oh, I'm going to use it to bust out of here."
He really needed to learn to stop asking.
"Bust out?" Pierce clarified, trying to keep his voice even.
"Yup," Mr. Murdock answered with a smile, smoothing out the shaft on his key.
For a moment, Pierce wasn't sure what to do. All logic said that no one – not even Mr. Murdock – could break out of a secure ward with a skeleton key made out of soap. They didn't even use skeleton keys! On the other hand, Mr. Murdock defied logic on a near daily basis. On that note, if he did get out, it wouldn't be too long before he was back, safe and sound. But what was an orderly to do with this kind of information?
Part of him wanted to report it, but could only imagine the staff laughing at him for believing a mental patient could pull something like that off. And if he said nothing and Mr. Murdock did make a break for it, he would be responsible for any harm that came to him because he knew in advance that it would happen. But there was always Tony's theory …
"Mr. Murdock," he whispered, squatting down beside the table. "Do you have anywhere to go when you … um … bust out? Anyone who can take care of you?"
"Yup," he replied with a firm nod.
He almost asked about the A-Team, but that only seemed to confuse the guy. Maybe he didn't know his friends were the A-Team – it wasn't as if they would bring a mental patient with them on one of their crusades – but he did seem to have friends out there. Who was he to stand between them? Knowing there was a strong chance he would regret it, Pierce lowered his voice even more.
"Look, I'm off in twenty minutes and really don't want to get stuck doing paperwork, so do you think you can wait a while before you bust out?"
"Roger Wilco," he agreed. "I'll give it twenty-two minutes."
Knowing that was the best he was going to get – assuming the soap key worked – Pierce went back to the paper mache table to stop someone from plastering their neighbor's hand to a chair. Before he knew it, his relief had shown up. With a quick goodbye to Mr. Murdock, he hurried down to clock out. Jake was in the locker room when he got there and laughed at his appearance.
"You knew they were doing paper mache, didn't you?" Pierce accused.
"Why do you think I volunteered to help the trainee?" Jake chuckled, gathering his things from his locker.
Pierce could only glare as he grabbed his own gear. He would shower would he got home, but until then he would just have to – the blare of an alarm cut into his thoughts.
It couldn't be.
Jake hurried back to the nurses' station, with Pierce right behind him. Even though he had known he said it would happen, the new orderly was having trouble believing it. How could Mr. Murdock have broken out with a soap key?!
"What's going on?" Jake asked when they reached the desk.
"Somehow Mr. Murdock got the art room window unlocked," the frazzled nurse reported. "Some of the guys outside saw him climb out the window, but I'm not sure if they caught him."
"We didn't," Matt reported, sounding a little winded. "Some older guy was waiting for him in a corvette. Didn't see his face though."
"Sorry, buddy," Jake shrugged. "You know the rules: you lose him, you do the paperwork."
"Your floor lost him," Matt protested. "You do the paperwork."
"No can do, we were both off shift before it happened. Right, Pierce?"
Unable to help it, Pierce checked his watch. It was almost four minutes since he clocked out, and roughly two since the alarm sounded. If Mr. Murdock was anything, he sure was punctual. Thank the Lord.
"Sorry, Matt," he smiled, slinging his bag on his shoulder. "Not our shift, not our paperwork."
Leaving his friend to figure out who actually was responsible for Mr. Murdock at the time of his escape – lest he get stuck filling out the report – Pierce followed Jake out to the parking lot. Driving home, he kept an eye out for a corvette. He may not have done anything to prevent the break out, but Mr. Murdock was still one of his patients. More than that, he was a friend and he didn't want him to get hurt. Still, he could take comfort in the fact that he wasn't the only person who felt that way. Somewhere out there was an older man who would take care of his patient and bring him back after their "adventure."
THE END
What do you think of Pierce's final thoughts on Murdock and his friends?
Writing this I have come to really love Pierce and his theories as to what Murdock does when he leaves the VA. This is why I am planning a multi-chapter fic where he needs the A-Team's help and finds a ... interesting way of asking for it. (It may be a bit for me to type it up with my schedule, but I do plan to write it as soon as I can iron out a few wrinkles.)
On that note, I have completed a four piece story of the origins of the A-Team (taking place in Vietnam sometime around 1969-70). The only thing is, I'm trying to decide if I should post in in segments (with daily updates) or as one long one-shot. Any thoughts?
