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3

"You often meet your fate on the road you take to avoid it." -French proverb

The sun was pretty warm, and it was only 10 A.M.. Hannibal stood up on the roof where he had been placing shingles and stretched his back. This was definitely a younger man's job and he was getting older, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Those thoughts annoyed his mind as he gazed over the worksite at Mammoth Pictures.

Creating the appearance of a Wild West town definitely took a large construction crew. There were several framers working over at what would become the saloon and another crew was hanging drywall in the hotel. Hannibal's crew was working on the roof of the jail, and they were ahead of schedule, which was good because the picture was due to start next week. They were a pretty good crew; one was a kid working between graduating from high school and going to college and the other was a Hispanic man from downtown LA. The kid was inexperienced, but he learned fast, reminding Hannibal a lot of Face when they'd first met. The other man, Santiago, was an old hand at this, and so, working altogether, the job had moved quickly along.

He hung his hammer on his tool belt, then climbed down expertly from the roof, and got a drink of water from the cooler under a large oak tree. The team of tilers were sitting nearby under the tree. Their group was mostly made up of young, overconfident bullies. Soon after Hannibal had been hired, he'd run into them when they'd tried to hassle Santiago. They felt that a Mexican shouldn't be taking good "American jobs" away from them; never mind the fact that Santiago had been born in LA and so was a native U.S. citizen.

Hannibal had gone for the largest one right away, usually his style, and laid him out with a single punch that connected with the jaw. Then he'd turned to the other two with a large smile. "How about it? Any of you gorillas wanna go a round with the champ?" He knew then that they'd seen it. The look of something dangerous in his eyes. The jazz had made them leave; they didn't even stoop to drag their unconscious friend away; they just left him bleeding in the dirt.

It had been stupid; he knew he could have gotten arrested and drawn the attention of the MP's, but it had been the right thing to do. Sometimes a thing could be both stupid and right at the same time. He heard the muttering from the group under the tree and watched with satisfaction as they got up and moved back to their work. No one else had encountered any trouble with them since the day Hannibal had cold-cocked the biggest behind the saloon, and that felt pretty good.

Not knowing how everything had been about to turn out during the fight had felt good as well. Too good. It was balancing on a knife edge…it was waiting for the unexpected…it was the jazz. He had missed it. All of a sudden, the thought brought back the memory of his team and he had to harden his sun-tanned face to hide the swift emotion that swept over him.

He imagined that making the transition back to everyday, civilian life was the hardest on him. After all, he'd been in the military the longest out of the four of them. He could hardly remember what his life was like before he joined up. He'd gone, as a young soldier, to Korea and gained rank, experience, and training. He remembered those days with a wry smile. He'd been full of piss and vinegar, thinking he could never lose. And it had seemed to be true.

Then Vietnam. His A-Team. Every mission, it had seemed as if they worked together—all of them- like parts of the same whole. Knowing each other's thoughts effortlessly. It was a hard thing to give up. Regular life was pale when compared to life with his men.

Again, that was his problem, not theirs. He was certain that they would be just fine. He knew adjusting back to civilian life had been welcomed by Face and BA. After escaping from Fort Bragg, they had all talked about what they'd enjoy best about being out of the Army. Even Murdock seemed okay where he was. He had every cute nurse wrapped around his finger, for certain. Even though he was being well-taken care of, Hannibal still made it his business to check on his pilot. If one of his men needed him, he would never desert them—he was determined to see Murdock through.

He tossed the paper cup he'd been using into the nearby wastebasket and then began to climb the ladder again to return to the roof. He shook his head, still feeling that sense of responsibility to his teammates. What was he, if not their leader? How did someone just let go of that kind of responsibility? He was at a loss, and it was an alien feeling that set him on edge. Give them a chance to try and have some kind of life, even though they were on the run. He grabbed his hammer and got back to work, driving nails into shingles with a single blow.

It was going to be a lonely road towards figuring out his place in this new world, and he was going to have to travel it alone.

The thoughts still burdened his mind as he drove back his small efficiency apartment above a Chinese laundromat. He waved at the old gentleman that ran the place; the elderly Mr. Lee was sitting in the small office, counting quarters as Hannibal passed through to the stairway that led upstairs.

He had just showered and was getting dressed again when the phone rang. It was probably only the third time the phone had rang in the whole time he'd been living here. He lifted the receiver on the powder blue phone and listened, waiting for the other person to speak first.

It was Face. "Hello? Colonel?" From the tension in his voice, Hannibal knew something was wrong.

"It's me. What's happened?"

"There was a problem with our friend at the VA. My nurse contact called me. Um…I stole him from the VA." They didn't use names according to the plan they'd set in place.

Hannibal's eyes widened in surprise, but he couldn't help the smile that touched his lips. "You did what?"

"He's here. With me. There's a new Doctor at the VA. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but Colonel…if you'd seen him…" The note of worry in Face's voice was real.

"If I had seen him, I probably would have done the same thing Lieutenant." Hannibal knew that Face had done what was necessary and didn't second guess him for a moment.

"I brought his file home. I should go to the pharmacy soon. He's going to need his meds. I don't wanna be gone to the pharmacy and he wake up alone."

"Just hold on. I'm on my way."


Hannibal pulled into Face's driveway. There had been a light storm earlier, but the rain had passed and now a light wind blew off of the water. The glow of the newly risen moon shone across the dunes and made it easy to see his way to the door.

He knocked, and was met in a moment with his Lieutenant's anxious face. "Come in."

"Nice to see you, kid." He patted Face's shoulder as he entered the dwelling. "How's our patient doing?"

"Still sleeping. I only got him as far as the couch." Face gestured to the light blue sofa, where a sleeping Murdock was curled into some pillows and a crocheted blanket.

Hannibal nodded. "Has he woken up at all since you got him here?"

Face shook his head. "I looked up those medications that Nurse Laurie said they gave him, and he should be out at least another hour. Like I said earlier, I don't wanna be gone to the pharmacy and have him wake up alone."

Hannibal nodded again. "Swiping that file was a good idea. It looks like we're going to have to keep a better eye on our pilot's welfare." His blue eyes cut to Murdock and then back to Face. "Get what you need for him. When you get back, we'll figure out what's going on and what we need to do about it."

"Okay, Hannibal." Face grabbed his wallet and keys and was gone.

Hannibal sat on the smaller couch in front of the window and kicked his feet up on the coffee table to wait. Face was worried he'd done the wrong thing, but Hannibal had reassured him during the phone call that he would have done no less himself. From his position, he could see the bruises on Murdock's arm that Face had mentioned. The very idea angered him. They all knew that Murdock was crazy, but he wasn't dangerous.

Even though he appeared better, Hannibal and the rest of the team had known that Murdock was still shaken up. His nightmares left him screaming if he forgot his medication, but his performance on the job didn't suffer one bit. Murdock had promised Hannibal as much, when he'd been allowed to fly once more. At first, he'd refused to get Murdock cleared for active duty again and suggested that he take time to rest and heal completely in spirit as well as body.

He still remembered Murdock's response even today. The pilot had grabbed him by the shirt. "Colonel. If I don't get back up there...I am gonna really go crazy. I gotta fly." He'd held Hannibal's gaze for long moments, then realized what he was doing and let his shirt go. He smoothed it back down as he stepped back; he seemed shocked by his own reaction. "I gotta fly." He'd softened his voice. "I'm a pilot. If I don't fly...there won't be anything left for me..."

Hannibal had understood. What were they, if not the soldiers that the military had made them? What was left if you took that away from them? It was why he had brought Murdock back with the team; however, he had promised himself to keep a very close eye on the pilot. Murdock had been steady; his occasional difficulties had never been enough to stop him from flying. After the bank job, the pilot had kept it together in order to try and break them out of Fort Bragg. Failing at that had been stressful for him, intensified because Lynch had tried to break the pilot by telling him that they had been killed in a car accident. Murdock hadn't handled that very well at all.

If he ever had a chance to see Lynch, he would pay that back with interest.

He glanced again at Murdock and found the pilot watching him silently. The quietness was eerie for a moment, reminding Hannibal of Murdock's time at Faith. "Captain?" He said softly, getting up to come over and perch near Murdock on the edge of the overstuffed blue sofa.

"Where am I?" Murdock spoke in a hoarse voice. He looked around, obviously confused.

"You're at Face's, Murdock. There was a…problem at the VA." Hannibal tried to gauge his pilot's reaction. There was a glazed look in Murdock's eyes and his manner and speech were slowed.

"I feel like I did after that birthday party y'all threw me right before we left Cam Ranh."

Hannibal smiled as the memory returned. The party had been Face's idea. They'd gone out and hit some of the local bars and spent most of the night drinking bac si de, a local rice whiskey. BA had gone with them to keep an eye on the three of them. By the end of the night, neither Face nor Murdock had their wits about them enough to get back to the base, so he and BA had shepherded them home. Hannibal hadn't been feeling that great the next day either, as he remembered, but Face and Murdock had been worse off by far.

"BA warned us that local hooch was strong." Hannibal said.

Murdock tried to sit up, but gave up and settled back against the sofa with a heavy sigh. As he looked at Hannibal, a small gleam came to his eye, a flash of his old self returning for a brief moment. "You know why BA doesn't drink anymore, don't you? Remember that mama san that cleaned Ray's hooch once a week and washed his laundry?"

"Yeah." Hannibal nodded.

"She and BA sat up one night drinking some of that homemade stuff. She'd made it in her kitchen." Murdock began to smile as he remembered. "Next day…he was so sick he swore off the stuff forever. She drank him under the table."

Hannibal had to admit it was pretty funny. He laughed for a moment, then Murdock's smile faded and the pilot became serious. "Hannibal, what did I do? I can't remember. I mean…why did Face bring me here? I mean, we both know I'm one twist short of a Slinky, but did I do anything uh…you know?" Even though he was making a joke about it, Hannibal knew that Murdock was anxious about what he apparently couldn't remember.

He placed a hand on Murdock's shoulder. "No. I'm not sure of all the details, but it looks like they gave you worse than they got. You don't remember anything?"

The Captain let out a sigh. "Not much." He had a faint memory of someone holding him down and the feeling that he could no longer breathe; he'd been terrified and trying to fight his way free. He wasn't sure if the memory was from the VA or from an earlier time in Vietnam. He shook his head. "It's all jumbled. I'm confused."

"Don't worry. Face is picking up a few things for you at the store, then we're gonna figure all this out together. Nobody died, if that's what you're wondering." The relief in Murdock's eyes said that Hannibal had hit it on the nose. "Now close your eyes and sleep a little more before Face gets here. I'm not leaving you."

Murdock closed his eyes and sighed. "Whatever they gave me was like a hammer."

"I know." Hannibal patted him on the shoulder. "Get some sleep, kid."

"Yes, sir." Murdock mumbled. In moments, he was back asleep.


After Face had come back from the pharmacy, he spent a few hours with Hannibal in a strange mood he couldn't decode himself.

They were both very worried for Murdock but there was an annoying bug in their minds that kept suggesting that there was more than a new breakdown in their friend's situation. It was painful to listen to the echoes of war, to smell the memory of that VC camp, to explore every second of a future with no future… a future on the run, in which the only purpose could be trying to protect each other from that dark emptiness in which Murdock seemed to be sinking.

Hannibal and Face sat in silence for long moments: after sharing what needed to be shared, they were talking with their own thoughts, but, as well as it happened during the long hours spent in the jungle, they also had the feeling that just being close to each other could mean sharing the burden.

Hannibal's presence was very comforting… he was still their Commander after all, and, as everyone knows, a commander always knows what needs to be done… even when he doesn't know it at all!

That was sure a huge responsibility for the Colonel, who was now wishing that the paramedic training he had received in the Green Berets would have been less focused on physical wounds and more on emotional ones: they bled inside and it could be even more dangerous.

"Well, Colonel, there's a guest room at the end of the corridor, you can sleep there if you like… "

"No worries, Face, I don't think it's a good idea to let Murdock spend his night all alone right now… Go and get some rest, I'll stay here for a while."

" There are two beds in my room… I thought we might take him there and I'll be with him the whole night, what do you say?"

" Yeah, that's great Lieutenant… let's see if our Captain takes a walk with us, huh?"

Face gently touched Murdock's shoulder, making sure not to shake it, and talked slowly and reassuringly to take Murdock back from where he was, without being too sudden.

Murdock's eyes seemed more clean now, as if a foggy shade had faded, and he followed Face in an obedient way that was a little too sad to be considered simple cooperation.

While the Captain changed into the pajamas Face had lent him, Hannibal grabbed the Lieutenant's arm, before heading to the door.

"Murdock isn't the only one who has had to deal with his nightmares lately, ain't that true Face? Are you sure you can handle it?"

"I can Colonel, don't worry."

"I'm only one room away… " Hannibal continued, staring with his blue eyes into Face's brown ones.

"I know. You have always been there. Always."

Hannibal smiled and left the room, while Murdock lay down on the bed and Face passed his hand through his hair.


Murdock felt the sleepiness leaving him gradually... a part of him didn't want to let it go, since it was a protective blanket that could defend him from facing that never ending feeling of oppression, of helplessness, of disorientation. He had never lost the impression that he was walking in the nowhere, and he had to go somewhere to save himself, but there was no aim, no path, no escape… he was condemned to die in that emptiness, so full of anguish that he felt almost claustrophobic.

The new meds he had been given could knock him out for a while, but when he came back he had the feeling to have lost a little bit of himself every time. He couldn't say exactly what was lost… not only his memory, or even his control - it was unbearable to him just to imagine he could do things he couldn't remember when drugged… he was losing something else, too. Maybe his intelligence, or his desire to live… or perhaps it was his identity… his fear, his joy, his taste, his love, his passion, his anger, his life. He was losing his life.

The whirlwind of emotions flowed through him, making him feel even more dizzy and alienated on top of what he'd already been through in the hospital.

Murdock turned himself to one side and saw Face in the half-darkness: he was sitting on the bed… holding something in his hands. A card maybe. No, probably it was a picture.

Murdock heard him mumbling something but he wasn't sure if the voice came from Face or from his own head.

No, it was Face talking… but the words were indistinct.

Murdock tried to listen more carefully: for the first time in so long he had been able to focus on something, he was really interested in something happening in the real world.

"Look to this day,

For yesterday is but dream

and tomorrow is but a vision."

There was a pause here.

"But today well lived

makes every yesterday a dream of happiness"

Face's voice trailed off and trembled.

"And every tomorrow a vision of hope."

For the first time in ages Murdock felt his eyes stinging, and he remembered he could feel again. He slowly got up and the vertigo he felt punched him directly in his stomach. He saw black in front of his eyes, so he stopped for a moment, and then, slowly, he managed to get to his feet.

Face noticed him when he was almost standing and he reached out quickly for him.

Murdock didn't catch his hand, but put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Murdock...I sure didn't want to wake you up," Face wiped a tear from his eyes and tried to steady his voice.

"What was it, Face?"

"Ah, nothing... just something the sisters at the orphanage made me repeat when I was a little… yes… I mean… when I felt…"

"Lonely?" Murdock interrupted.

"I'm glad you're here Murdock". Face found himself saying.

"Thank you, Face."

"For what?"

"For having woken me up."

Both knew there was more than the obvious in Murdock's words.