It took Charlie a moment to process Murdock's question. As soon as it sunk in though, she felt her stomach lurch and her muscles instantly tense up. "I- I don't know what you're talking about," she told him, though her jittery gestures blatantly belied her words. Her brain shifted into overdrive, rapidly considering a mental list of the pros and cons of telling him the truth.
Murdock sighed. "Charlie, I may be crazy, but I'm not an idiot. You clearly don't have the required insanity to get a room at Chez V.A."
"How would you know?" Charlie retorted indignantly. "Maybe it only happens when you're not around."
Murdock shook his head and let out an exasperated breath. "Alright, fine. Let's just suppose that you go stark raving mad in the middle of the night while everyone else sleeps. Let's say that's true. That still leaves you some explaining to do about your claim that you were a field nurse in Vietnam."
Charlie was beginning to feel cornered. "Why does that need explaining?" she asked with a slight tremor of guilt in her voice. "I told you I was a nurse because I was a nurse, end of story." Her voice had now risen an octave or two higher, and her speech had grown rapid.
"Charlie." Murdock struggled to keep the full extent of his frustration out of his voice. "Remember a few days ago when Big Mike was outside, and he twisted his ankle? And I told him to ask you about it? You told him to walk it off, and to stay on it as much as possible so it wouldn't stiffen up."
Realizing she must have been wrong, Charlie's heart sank, but her denial continued. "So?" she countered. "That's good medical advice."
"Charlie," Murdock blurted out, "that is terrible medical advice! Even I know that a twisted ankle should be elevated and iced for God's sake! I can't imagine any trained nurse making a mistake like that!"
Charlie opened her mouth to offer another excuse, but thought twice and closed it. She exhaled with defeat and stared sightlessly out the van's passenger-side window. She knew she didn't have the heart to continue lying to Murdock, and it suddenly occurred to her that he deserved to know what was going on; given that he was driving halfway across the country with a woman who was supposed to be in hiding, keeping him in the dark could be putting him in almost as much danger as she was in. With no other reasonable options, Charlie let out a resigned "okay," turned to Murdock, and launched into the full story of her troubled reality.
*****
It took about thirty minutes for Charlie to finish the lengthy explanation of her situation. Murdock had said nothing for the duration of the story, and now the last sentence of her narration hung almost tangibly in the deafening silence encompassing the pair. Murdock was gripping the steering wheel as though he expected someone to take it away from him at any moment. His expression was completely inscrutable, and with every quiet second that passed, Charlie was growing more and more apprehensive. Time ticked by until Charlie could no longer stand the silence. With great trepidation, she tuned to the man next to her, and in a tiny, hesitant voice, finally ventured, "Murdock?"
Wordlessly, Murdock flipped on a turn signal and pulled over, slowly bringing the van to a halt on the freeway's gravel shoulder. There was a brief moment of terror as Charlie panicked that he might just leave her at the side of the road and take off. Instead, however, Murdock just turned the keys in the ignition, and the engine grumbled before dying down. He let out a breath, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. After what seemed like an eternity to Charlie, he finally opened his eyes, turned to her, and spoke, his voice flat and controlled. "Jesus, Charlie, why did you not tell me this before we left the V.A.?"
Her answer came out rather sheepishly. "I didn't want you to be involved."
"Not be involved?" Murdock exploded. "You didn't think that me accompanying you halfway across the country constituted me becoming 'involved'?"
Charlie knew it did, but being as stubborn as she was, she became immediately defensive. "Hey, you'll recall that I told you 'no' when you asked to come with me. You practically forced me to bring you!"
"Forced you?" Murdock shot back. "I did no such thing! I just…" Murdock paused and tried to recall what had in fact been said on the evening they had discussed her escape. The realization that he had left her little choice but to bring him cooled some of the heat in his words. "Alright, maybe I did," he conceded. "But once you knew I was coming with you, did you not think it was important to tell me that at any time on this little trip, we could be running into your psychotic, homicidal boyfriend?"
"Ex-boyfriend," Charlie was quick to correct Murdock. "My very, very ex-boyfriend." She sighed, suddenly exhausted, and her voice took on a tone of contrition. She turned and looked squarely into Murdock's eyes. "Murdock, I'm really sorry. I should have told you, I know. But I doubt very much that Rick would ever hurt you. It's me he'll be looking to shut up, and he's got no reason to risk going after you." Although Charlie did in fact believe Rick wouldn't hesitate to hurt Murdock if he thought Murdock meant anything to her, she desperately wanted Murdock to know she hadn't been so unfeeling as to put him in serious jeopardy. She deliberately ignored the insistent voice in her head asking what does he mean to you?
Rather than looking reassured, however, her words brought a tone of frustration to Murdock's voice. "I don't care about me getting hurt! I care about you getting hurt! How can I protect you if I don't know what's going on?" He was gesturing emphatically as he spoke.
Charlie stiffened a little. "Hey, I didn't ask you to protect me!" she shot back. "I am not some damsel in distress in need of a big, strong man to save the day!"
"Oh for God's sake, Charlie," Murdock snapped. "This is not a sexism thing, this is a logistical thing! I am far more capable of protecting you than you are capable of protecting you."
Charlie rolled her eyes. "And why is that, Murdock? Because you're a man or because you got really good at protecting people while playing dodge ball at the V.A.?"
"No, because I'm part of the-" Murdock stopped suddenly.
"Part of the what?" asked Charlie, narrowing her eyes.
Murdock began to fidget. "Part of the… V.A. self-defence class?" he offered weakly, suddenly fascinated with the dashboard.
"Bull." Charlie crossed her arms over her chest.
Murdock was caught, and he knew it. He also knew that his best chance of keeping Charlie safe was to call in his team mates for help, meaning she was bound to discover his identity sooner or later, regardless of whether or not he told her the truth now. Murdock took a deep breath and stared unwaveringly into Charlie's blue eyes. "Ever heard of the A-Team?" he asked.
"The A-Team?" she responded, puzzled. "Well, yeah, of course I have, but I don't see what this has to do with…" Charlie's voice trailed off as understanding dawned. "Oh, my God," she whispered. "You're part of the A-Team?"
Murdock nodded.
"I-" Charlie paused as a new thought occurred to her. "Wait, that's what you do when you leave the V.A., isn't it?" she gasped.
"Yup," Murdock confirmed. "I sneak out, the four of us meet up, and we help clients who have no one else to help them."
Charlie considered this explanation thoughtfully. "Well, that certainly sounds far more noble than what the media says about the A-Team," she mused.
"Yeah, the military's got us pegged as fugitives, but I promise you, we did not do what they say we did. Or… well… technically we did, but not illegally. We were under orders."
"Wow," came Charlie's soft reply. "You know, if I was the one driving, this is the part where I'd be pulling off the road," she told Murdock wryly.
He gave her a mild grin. "You see now why I wish you'd told me earlier about your predicament? The team could have been a hundred kinds of helpful in dealing with this Rick jackass."
Charlie sighed deeply. "Alright, alright, you win. I should have told you what was going on."
"Well, I'll forgive you your mistake this time; you haven't known me long enough to know that I'm always right, so I'll cut you some slack, just this once." Murdock flashed her a teasing smile.
"Lucky me," Charlie grumbled sarcastically. "So what now?"
"Well," countered Murdock, "I'll tell you what. Let's try to make it through this funeral, and when we get back to the V.A., we'll sit down with the team and decide how to neuter Rick."
Charlie mulled over the proposal for a moment. "Neuter him, huh?" she asked, the mental image transforming her expression into one of amusement.
"Oh, totally," Murdock affirmed with an amused expression of his own.
Charlie turned to Murdock and nodded. "Deal," she declared, presenting her hand to him so they could shake on it.
"Deal," Murdock concurred. He reached for her hand and pumped it a few times, his eyes never leaving hers.
Though merely a formal gesture of agreement, Charlie swore she could feel a little jolt as his hand clasped her own, a feeling she found wholly unsettling. She thought she noted a similar realization in Murdock's eyes.
Releasing her hand, Murdock coughed and turned his eyes back to the road. He checked his driver's side mirror and merged back onto the highway, pushing down on the accelerator pedal. "And we're off," he offered casually, before they lapsed into a companionable silence, both lost in thought as each wondered just where it was they were really off to.
*****
Before leaving the V.A., Charlie had anticipated that Murdock would make an enjoyable travelling companion. What surprised Charlie, however, was just how enjoyable of a companion he was turning out to be. Though the reason for the trip was a sombre one, she was so amused by and engrossed in Murdock that she had pushed her devastation over Fenlon's death from the forefront of her mind. Murdock had regaled her with a slew of A-Team stories; some were thrilling, and some were hilarious, but all of them were thoroughly entertaining.
Even the usual getting-to-know-you conversations avoided their typical blandness, and instead served as springboards to engaging conversations. Animated debates occurred over the best movies, the best books, the best music. They eagerly swapped stories about childhood antics, terrible jobs, embarrassing moments. Although Charlie and Murdock had met only a few days ago, both were equally aware of how natural their interaction was, and how fully their personalities and intellects complimented each another. Neither could deny the chemistry they recognized crackling between the two of them.
They were just past St. George, Utah when Charlie suddenly remembered there was a critical piece of information she had somehow completely forgotten to ask. "Murdock," she began, "I've been meaning to ask you: what does H.M. stand for?"
"Howling Mad," he replied.
Charlie laughed and waited for a punch line. When it didn't arrive, she realized he was serious. "What? Come on, your parents did not name you Howling Mad," she chided.
"Maybe they should have," Murdock replied with a shrug.
"But they didn't, so what is it really?" Charlie prodded.
"I dunno." Murdock's eyes remained focused on the road, concentrating on some invisible point far off in distance.
"Murdock, that's ridiculous. How could you not know-" Charlie stopped speaking abruptly as she realized this was the first time since they had pulled off the road and dropped their mutual bombshells that Murdock was speaking to her without directing a single glance her way. She sensed that perhaps she had hit upon some nerve. She decided to change her approach slightly. "Remember the most important rule of road trips?" Her voice had adopted a compassionate intonation.
Murdock's lips twitched in a tiny grin. "Nothin' worse than having your own words used against you," he grumbled. A few more quiet moments slid by before he exhaled a long breath of resignation and spoke. "You know, I usually like to wait for my ninth or tenth date with a girl before I unload my baggage, but what the hell."
Charlie smiled. "Good thing we're not on a date then, huh?" she asked wryly.
"Darlin', you are breaking my heart here," Murdock drawled with a touch of melodrama, as he looked over at the beautiful woman he was with.
Charlie smothered a giggle. "The name?" she reminded him with exasperation.
"Right, right, the name," he said reluctantly. "The name." He shifted in his seat and slung his right arm casually around the back of the passenger-side headrest. He took the other hand off the steering wheel for a few seconds to rub his chin pensively, trying to decide where to start. "Okay," he finally opened with. "So my mom had me when she was pretty young. I think she was like eighteen, nineteen, somewhere around there. I don't know my dad, I've never met my dad, and he sure as hell didn't stick around to meet me. A friend of my mom's once told me he left as soon as he found out my mom was pregnant."
Charlie's heart went out to Murdock. She had plenty of friends who were raised by one parent, but she knew from a few close male friends raised by single mothers that not having a father around could be especially tough on boys. Instinctively, she reached behind her headrest where Murdock's arm was draped, and pulled the arm back around to the front. She interlaced her fingers with his and rested both their hands across her lap.
Murdock's face registered surprise as he looked down at their interlocked hands, and he raised his eyes to Charlie's, whereupon he nodded and offered a warm smile of gratitude before continuing his story. "So it was just Mom and me until I was five. And I remember almost nothing from those times, but one of the things that stuck in my head was the sound of her voice when she called my name. And the only name I can ever remember her calling me was, 'H.M.'" Murdock paused for a grin. "Well, that and 'Monkey'. For some reason, she would also call me Monkey."
Charlie chuckled. "Her nickname for you was the name of a silly, rambunctious, mischievous, noisy, little thing? Yeah, I can't imagine why she'd call you that." Charlie's sarcastic observation held a clear underlying affection.
Murdock turned to Charlie, stuck his tongue out, and blew a raspberry in her direction.
Predictably, Charlie burst into laughter at the ridiculous gesture. "I feel like I should find a teacher and tell on you," she remarked between giggles. Unbidden, the word irresistible popped into her head.
"Anyway," Murdock said, clearing his throat, his face showing his momentary bemusement briefly before reverting back to its previous serious demeanour. "Everything else I know about those first few years is all hearsay. Evidently, my mom and I lived in an apartment in a pretty rough neighbourhood in Texas, and my grandparents lived in California. Now, either no one remembers, or no one is willing to tell me why, but for some reason, my mom and my grandparents had gone through some type of falling out about a year-and-a-half before I was born, and neither side had spoken to the other since. In fact, my grandparents didn't have any idea that I even existed until I was like three or four."
Charlie squeezed Murdock's hand harder, her face a mask of sympathy.
Murdock turned his head to face Charlie for a moment before shifting his eyes back to the road and carrying on with his story. "So anyway, my mom died when I was five, and-"
Charlie interrupted with a sharp intake of breath. "Oh, Murdock, I'm sorry. That's terrible."
"Yeah, I'm not gonna lie, it was rough. But the silver cloud was that when my grandparents were informed about my mom's death, they immediately stepped up and took custody of me."
"Wow, three cheers for Grandma and Grandpa Murdock!" Charlie exclaimed.
"Yeah, definitely," Murdock said in agreement. "And they lived in this big house, in this great neighbourhood packed with kids, and parks, and I loved my new school, and they even had this golden retriever named Billy who was just the best dog ever." There was pause as Murdock thought back to his early years with his grandparents, and the happiness the memories brought him was unmistakeably written on his face. "God," he said with a goofy grin, "I remember I had this teacher in grade three named Ms. Jameson… I had such a crush on her." Eventually, he returned to the present while Charlie watched with amusement. Her mental image of a seven-year-old Murdock was one of a little kid wearing the exact same hat he was wearing now while running around in a tiny pair of classic Converse high-tops.
Murdock gave his head a little shake to help him refocus on the question he was trying to answer. "Right, so back to the H.M. thing… Being five, I actually had no idea that H.M. was supposed to stand for something; I just thought it was my name, so I had no idea what it was short for. My grandparents didn't either, thanks to the complete absence of communication between them and my mom. My grandparents checked the hospital for records, but apparently my mom must've gone into labour at home, and for whatever reason chose to just have me there, so there was nothing any hospital could tell us. Then, they checked government records for a birth certificate, but found none; my guess is that my mom never got around to it. I needed a birth certificate to register for school though, so my grandparents had to apply for one. They wanted to respect my mom's choice of name, even if they had no idea what it stood for, so they legally registered my name as HM, with just the two letters, no periods." Murdock drew a deep, cleansing breath, turning to Charlie as he exhaled. "Bet you're sorry you asked now, huh?"
Charlie looked at him with alarm. "Of course not! I feel privileged that you told me," she was quick to inform him.
Murdock glanced down at the hand she was now tightly clutching with both hands, having laid her other hand over their interlocked fingers about halfway through the story. Charlie followed his gaze, and released his hand quickly when she determined what he was looking at. "Sorry," she said quietly.
"Hey, don't be; I'm not!" Murdock informed her with a suggestive smile. Charlie rolled her eyes, but Murdock was happy to see her smile as well. "You know, you're the first person I've actually told that whole story to?"
"Really?" Charlie returned. She felt a little jolt of joy in her chest, and realized knowing Murdock trusted her to such a degree was a wonderful feeling. "I somehow seem to have that effect on people," she told him. "I guess I just have one of those faces that make people feel safe about confiding in me."
Murdock furrowed his brow. "I don't think that's the reason," he offered. "I think it's your eyes."
"My eyes?"
"Yeah, they have this sort of… inner light to them. I mean, your eyes somehow convey this reassurance that you won't judge people, that you've got this tremendous capacity for understanding."
Charlie squirmed in her seat a little, feeling mild embarrassment, not used to the compliments and attention. "All that from my eyes, eh?" she asked, trying to downplay the kind words, if only slightly.
Murdock looked over at her and winked. "Oh, totally," he confirmed. "Well, that plus the fact that you have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."
Charlie's grew red almost immediately, and she looked down at lap. "Um… thank you?" she responded weakly. She could not recall any occasion where Rick had presented her with such overt flattery.
Murdock returned to focusing on the road again. His face was lit by a grin. "My pleasure!"
Afraid that her resolve to maintain a platonic relationship with Murdock was crumbling fast, she swiftly switched on the radio, sunk back in her seat, and lapsed into silence as she let the strains of classic rock guitar wash over her.
*****
Charlie experienced a moment of complete disorientation when her eyes fluttered open, before the knowledge of where she was flooded back to her as she became more fully awake.
Murdock looked over at her as she stirred, remarking, "Hey, there you are! Good to see you again."
Turning her attention to Murdock, she realized she must have drifted off shortly after Murdock's story about his name. She rubbed her eyes, and sat up straight. "Sorry about that," Charlie said with a yawn, bringing one hand to the small of her back to knead at a knot that had formed. "I must have been more tired than I realized."
An impish light entered his eyes. "Don't apologize to me, young lady. I kinda liked watching you sleep."
The admission brought a riot of butterflies to her stomach.
"Plus," he continued, "you snored like a bear the whole time, so that also made it pretty entertaining."
Twin red circles appeared on the apples of Charlie's cheeks. "I did not!" she huffed.
Murdock laughed. "Yeah, you're right; I just wanted to see how you would react."
Charlie reached out and swatted Murdock on the arm. "Jerk," she grumbled with a grin. "So where are we?"
"We just passed a sign that says we're apparently in a town called Sandy, in Utah," Murdock informed her. "And I'm just about ready to hunker down in a motel someplace for the night."
Charlie gave a sigh of relief. "Good, because I am totally ready for a break from this van."
"If you ever meet the guy who owns this van, make sure you don't tell him that. I think he'd marry it if it was legal."
Giggling, Charlie nodded and said, "Duly noted."
"Although," Murdock mused thoughtfully, "I kind of wish it was legal, because I bet B.A. looks great in white."
"Man, I cannot wait to meet this guy," Charlie managed between chuckles.
Just as the sun was disappearing from the horizon, Charlie spotted a sign on the side of the interstate indicating there were lodgings close by. She pointed it out to Murdock, who merged onto the off-ramp. Both occupants of the van were thrilled just to be rid of the interstate they'd been confined to for so many hours.
Moments later, Charlie and Murdock found themselves in downtown Sandy, flanked by suburbia on all sides. In the distance, a vast mountain range stood sentinel over the city, casting a majestic feeling over the streets below. As they drove, both Charlie and Murdock saw elements of their respective childhoods in Sandy, the middle-class structures and the leisurely pace of the citizens invoking a familiar feeling. A companionable silence developed in the van as each passenger took in the surroundings of a place neither had been before.
Though the planning of the trip had been brief and vague by necessity, Murdock and Charlie had decided ahead of time that their best choice for accommodations would be any small motel they could find outside of the downtown core of whatever city they stopped in. The two were fairly certain that the possibility of Rick checking hotels in Utah was incredibly remote, but had no desire to take unnecessary chances either.
Embarking on an exploratory tour, Murdock and Charlie drove around for a little less than a half-an-hour until they eventually located a motel they agreed was suitably unremarkable. The motel parking lot they pulled into was dotted with a few big rigs, and several bland, practical cars. The vehicular makeup of the lot told them that this was a place strictly used for convenience, and certainly would not be on any tourist itinerary. Murdock aimed the van at what he assumed was supposed to be the motel's main entrance. There was certainly nothing inviting about the two story complex, or at least, nothing on its exterior. The concrete path running parallel to the doors of the rooms was covered in garbage, with discarded beer cans, newspapers, and cigarette butts liberally strewn about. The walls were stucco, painted a sickly beige and marked by graffiti every few feet. The windows looking outwards from the rooms were dingy with a thin, brownish film covering the glass of every window. There were no visible patrons outside, though both loud music and argumentative yelling sounded from a number of rooms.
"It's certainly not the Ritz-Carlton, is it?" Charlie commented.
"No kidding," Murdock agreed. "But it's just one night Charlie; it'll be fine."
"I know it will be." Charlie was reluctant to admit it, but she knew that as long as Murdock was around, she would feel safe and strong.
Avoiding the lot's ample supply of potholes, Murdock navigated his way to the front door of the motel, and slowed the car to a stop in front. "Wait here while I go handle the rental," Murdock instructed Charlie. "That way, the front desk won't see you, and on the off chance Rick calls to see if anyone matching your description is here, no one will point him your way."
Charlie nodded, impressed by Murdock's forethought. He swung the driver's-side door open and swung his legs out of the van, giving his tense muscles a good stretch before standing. He gave Charlie a wink and made for the entrance. Through the open van windows, Charlie could hear him singing, "In the Ghetto" as he walked away, and she couldn't help but smile.
Charlie didn't have to wait long for Murdock to return. He climbed back into the van. "All set!"
He double-checked the room number on a key he held in his hand, and drove across the parking lot, coming to a stop in front of a fairly banged-up door. Charlie slid her shoes back on, and opened the van door with stiff arms, stepping out onto even stiffer legs. She linked her hands in front of her and raised then as high over her head as she could, groaning as her muscles protested the stretch. Murdock had disembarked as well, and was now at the rear of the van, desperately trying to avert his eyes as Charlie's stretch resulted in her chest jutting out and the fabric of her shirt pulling taught across her front, clinging to her every curve. The van doors squeaked a little as Murdock pulled them open and fished out both his duffel bag and Charlie's. Charlie moved towards him and reached out a hand for her bag, but Murdock shook his head and shooed the hand away, saying, "I've got it, don't worry," giving the van doors a healthy push to close them, first shoving one, then the other. A brief tug at one of the handles assured him the doors were locked, and he started for the door of the room.
Though Murdock's act of carrying her bag was a fairly minimal gesture, Charlie felt a flood of warmth at the thoughtfulness of it. The idea of a man carrying out such a considerate act as though it were second-nature, minor though it was, was completely foreign to her.
Charlie followed Murdock to the door. "So, is this one mine or yours?" she asked.
"Um… both," he replied.
Charlie's eyes flew to his. "We're sharing a room?" she asked, visibly startled.
"Yes," confirmed Murdock. "It would be far too difficult for me to keep an eye on two rooms, and we need to make sure you're safe if Rick shows up." Murdock was, in fact, being completely honest about his reason for choosing a single room, and hoped he sounded reassuring.
Charlie opened her mouth to speak, but Murdock quickly spoke up before she could get a word out. "This is purely strategy," he told her. "The smaller the space I have to watch is, the easier it is for me… I mean we, to defend ourselves. I am not getting any ideas, remember?" Murdock wondered if it was as obvious to Charlie that his last sentence had been a complete lie as it was to him. With the sun almost set, the last rays of light caught her hair as she stood in front of him, and the auburn waves of her hair shone like silk. Damn, I have nothing but ideas now he chided himself.
Charlie narrowed her eyes and looked at Murdock suspiciously. Her brain couldn't seem to decide she should be terrified or excited. She realized she felt a little of both. Her words were slow and more than a little uncertain. "Well… I guess you do have a point about it being easier to protect one room…" She took a deep breath, feeling the way she imagined one must feel right before they jumped out of a plane, hoping to God the parachute opened. "Alright. But no ideas," she warned him with a wag of her index finger.
Clearly relieved at her understanding, Murdock's lips eased into the slow-burn smile that had made her knees weak on that first morning in the V.A. yard. He inserted the key into the lock and opened the door, proceeding with a deep, formal bow as he swung an arm in a sweeping arc, inviting her to go ahead of him.
As she walked into the room, she realized that part of her was desperately hoping that he had more ideas than either of them could count.
*****
As it turned out, the motel's dilapidated exterior had been an excellent indicator of what the motel's rooms would look like. The room was little more than a box, a tiny bathroom tacked on at one end. Although it stood to reason that the carpet in the room must have been fashionable at some point, with its current balding, day-glo orange shag and collection of stains reminiscent of a Jackson Pollock painting, it was difficult to imagine when such a hideous travesty would have ever been considered desirable. The room did have the luxury of a television, but the remote control was firmly bolted to a table two inches away from the set. Who the hell steals a remote for a TV they'll never see again? Murdock wondered, thinking, not for the first time, that there were far more crazy people outside the V.A. psych ward than there were in it. In one corner, a broken-down chair rested with one leg on a coaster to level it out. A number of springs had torn through the fabric and stuck out from the chair's side, and Murdock pointed it out to Charlie, saying, "Check that out: this place is so bad, even the springs are making a break for it."
Despite the fact that Charlie was standing in the middle of what may have been the single ugliest thing she had ever seen in her life, she couldn't help but laugh as she pictured chair springs devising a plan to run away. She turned to look at the miserable excuse for a bed placed in the centre of the room, its headboard pressed against a wall. The comforter, pilling and unravelling in a bottom corner, looked as though someone had eaten an argyle cardigan and a paisley pair of pants, and then thrown them up to cover the bed. A metallic glint caught her eye, and she gasped when she realized what it was. "Oh my God. Murdock, look," she gestured towards an industrial steel box welded to the side of the bed's metal frame. "The bed takes quarters."
Murdock exploded with laughter, clutching his sides. He gasped for air as he tried to point out to Charlie what he had been noticing at the same time she'd noticed the quarter receptacle. He finally gave up on catching his breath and just pointed.
Charlie traced the invisible line his finger was pointing along, following it to the room's one window. There, balled up and scrunched into a pathetic attempt at curtains, were several huge swatches of aluminium foil. Charlie's laughter joined Murdock's as she attempted to ask, "Why the hell would anyone… ? And why in the F would they use aluminium…?" She could not finish her thought though, and gave in to the hysterical laughter she been trying to hold back. She doubled over with laugher, and they both carried on until tears ran down their faces.
When the laughter began to subside, both made a concerted effort not to look at one another, because every time their eyes met, they both found themselves dissolving into fits of giggles once again.
When Charlie and Murdock finally did settle down, Charlie announced that she was taking a shower, while Murdock settled down in the beat-up chair sitting on the coaster, and picked up the phone to call Hannibal. Just as he was reaching for the phone's receiver, he heard a little yelp from the bathroom, followed by several thuds. In less than a second he was on his feet, tossing the phone aside as he stood and called, "Charlie?" while instinctively moving towards the bathroom.
He had only gone a few steps when Charlie hollered back, "Roaches! Just roaches. In the tub. I got 'em!" Murdock felt an instantly calming relief wash over him, while simultaneously being impressed by the quick work she'd made of the bugs. He returned to the chair when he heard the rush of water pouring from the shower a minute later. He struggled desperately to not picture how the woman on the other side of the shower curtain looked at this moment.
He quickly retrieved the phone from where he had dropped it on the floor and dialled a number he knew by heart. He crossed his fingers and hoped Charlie took long showers; he wanted a chance to talk to the team with Charlie out of earshot. It was time for a long-distance team meeting.
*****
By some lovely stroke of luck, Murdock's phone call reached not just one of his team mates, but all three. Hannibal and B.A. had made the fortunate decision to join Face at his most recently scammed luxury apartment so the three of them could go over their current finances, and consider the list of potential clients seeking help.
Face picked up the phone after two rings. "Hello?"
"Faceman!" Murdock exclaimed. "You miss me yet?"
"Murdock!" Face responded with undisguised glee. "Hi! Hang on a sec." Over the line, Murdock could hear Face instructing Hannibal and B.A. to each pick up another phone in the apartment so the whole team could be on the line at once. Hannibal was the first to join them on the phone. "Hello, Captain!" he greeted Murdock happily. Moments later, B.A. joined them on the line. "Hey, Crazy-man," he grunted.
"Howdy, gentlemen," Murdock offered, his enthusiasm evident. "So, did you, Face?"
"Did I what?" Face asked, confused.
"Miss me!"
"Oh, that," Face replied. "Yes, of course I missed you," Face said lightly. "In fact, we've all been pining for you since you left."
Murdock laughed. "You know, I do love being pined. Bet you missed me most of all, huh Big Guy?"
"Shut up, fool," B.A. shot back.
"Yeah, I knew you missed me, buddy. I just knew it!"
A big fan of cutting to the chase, Hannibal bluntly queried, "So what's up, Captain? Face said your lady friend is one good-lookin' broad; you two kids having a good time?"
"You mean aside from the fact that her angry ex-boyfriend may or may not be looking to kill us? Yeah, total blast."
His revelation was met with an utterly baffled silence.
It was Face who finally spoke up. "Uh… what?"
Murdock sighed. "Take a seat guys," he advised, then launched into a retelling of what he now knew to be the truth of Charlie's situation.
It took him about ten minutes to relate the story. By the time he was done, he could no longer hear the shower running, but when Charlie didn't reappear, Murdock figured she was probably just giving herself some extra pampering to help her wind down. He decided he still had time to talk to the team about a few more of his concerns regarding Charlie's safety; he had not mentioned any of it to Charlie, not wanting to scare her unnecessarily.
There was an initial period of silence after the completion of the tale, as the three team members in Face's apartment attempted to absorb the full weight of Murdock's words.
"Hannibal, you think maybe this is just more jibber-jabber from this crazy fool?" B.A. asked gruffly, though his tone suggested that not even he believed that particular theory.
"Nope," Hannibal asserted. "But I also don't think this is a one-man job either. Where are you, Captain?"
"Place called Sandy, Utah, Colonel. But I need you to do a few things before you look for a way to join us. Got a pen?" Murdock wanted to know.
There was rustling on the line, followed by Face's voice confirming, "Ready."
A split-second before Murdock began his requests, Charlie emerged from the bathroom. Though she had put the jeans she'd been wearing all day back on, she had brought a clean t-shirt into the bathroom in advance, and felt completely refreshed in the black cotton shirt with a low, square neckline. Damp tendrils of hair clung to her face, as she vigorously rubbed a towel over her locks. Though she had not intended to re-enter the main room soundlessly, that was in fact what had happened; from his seated position, with his back to her, Murdock was completely unaware that she stood a few feet behind him. Though her instincts told her not to, Charlie gave in to temptation, and took advantage of her covert position to eavesdrop on Murdock's phone call.
"Alright, so first of all," she heard Murdock say, "I pretty sure we've had a pickup truck tailing us since Vegas. I might have lost 'em because I didn't see them for the last two hours of today's drive, but I figure I'd rather be safe than sorry."
"Good man," Hannibal commented.
Charlie's eyes grew wide at Murdock's words. Why in God's name hadn't he told her? She felt a mix of fear and irritation wondering what else he hadn't bothered to inform her of.
"So Faceman, you remember that girl from the DMV you went on a couple dates with?"
Face thought for a moment, trying to place a face to the girl Murdock referred to. "Girl from the DMV…" he thought out loud. "The DMV… Oh, wait, you mean Sherry? The one who started talking about long-term commitment on date number two?"
"That's the one," Murdock confirmed, rolling his eyes.
"Aw, Murdock, you're not gonna ask me to call her, are you? Do you have any idea how much crying I had to put up with when I told her there wouldn't be a date number three?"
"Well, Hannibal, B.A., you guys break any hearts at the DMV lately?" Murdock put forth indulgently.
"No," Hannibal returned.
"No, sucka," an unmistakable voice said.
"Thanks a lot guys," Face grumbled sarcastically. "Fine, what do you need me to do?"
"'Atta boy, Faceman!" Murdock enthused. "Alright, I've got the license plate of the truck, so I need you to go down to the DMV and use all that Facey charm to find out who the truck's registered to." He read the plate numbers to Face.
"Ugh," Face responded very unhappily, as he scribbled down the digits. "You know she's gonna make me go on our third date."
Hannibal snorted. "Oh, poor you. Captain, did Charlie recognize the truck from anywhere?"
"She doesn't know yet." Murdock shook his head as he spoke. Charlie knew immediately that "she" was a reference to her. She wondered if the conversation was still about the pickup truck that had followed them, or if the subject had changed and the A-Team was now talking about something entirely different that she didn't know about.
"Yeah, I guess I could see not telling her; she does have an awful lot on her plate as it is," Hannibal mused.
"Exactly." Murdock said gratefully. "Now the other thing is, I wanna try and get a line on where this scumbag is. He's out on bail, so Face could probably scam Rick's file if he cons as a bail bondsman."
"Sure, sure, just keep piling the work on good old Face," came Face's overwrought complaint.
As he frequently did when Face balked at a necessary task, Hannibal employed the tactic of appealing to Face's vanity. "Face is right, Murdock; don't forget, Face is getting pretty old now, and he probably can't scam as well as he used to." For whatever reason, Hannibal's strategy worked every time, and this time was no exception.
"Old?" Face gasped. "All due respect, Hannibal, but you're no spring chicken yourself, you know. I'm as good as I've ever been at conning- Murdock, I got it all taken care of."
"Aw, Facey, I didn't doubt you for one second," Murdock soothed. "That file should have an address and phone number where the bail bondsman can find him for the return of the bail money. I figure you could bug whatever place he happens to be in, and B.A., can you tap his phone line?"
"'Course I can, fool. Don't be asking me if I can. Ask me if I will," barked B.A.
"You've got some serious anger issues, B.A.," Murdock told him in an unmistakably patronizing tone. "I'm gonna set up an appointment for you with my psychiatrist."
"Hannibal! I'm gonna kill this fool," B.A. snapped.
"Alright, alright, Murdock, we'll take care of this stuff, and try calling you in the van once we have anything."
"Thanks, Colonel. Glad to hear it. I gotta get some sleep, so –"
Face cut Murdock off. "Hang on, I've got a message for you!"
Murdock couldn't imagine who'd have a message for him. Simultaneously, Charlie listened carefully, wondering what was so important that Murdock's goodbye had been cut off.
"B.A.'s mom was in town yesterday, and she was so disappointed you weren't here," Face told him.
"Nuts!" Murdock frowned with genuine remorse. "How is my beautiful lady?"
Charlie bristled.
"She was glad to see Scooter, I can tell you that," Hannibal said, clearly amused.
Murdock snickered. "Oh my god, I love that woman," he told the team.
"She kept talking about that Thanksgiving weekend we all spent at her place; she's still thrilled about it." Face's voice held the same warmth all the team members' voices did when they spoke of B.A.'s mom.
"Oh God, that was great!" Murdock exclaimed. "It was the first time I slept at her place, and remember how she woke me up?"
"Blueberry pancakes in bed for every one of us," Hannibal sighed fondly.
"Yeah, that woman really knows how to wake a man up in the morning," Murdock asserted wistfully.
Hearing only one side of the conversation, and what she mistakenly thought was lust in his voice, Charlie realized Murdock must be talking about a woman he had a relationship with back in L.A. The flawed conclusion created an overwhelming combination of sorrow and jealousy.
A sudden thought occurred to Murdock. "You didn't tell her where I was, did you?" Mrs. B. had grown so fond of Murdock that lately, anytime she heard he was out of the V.A., she would she would find the pilot a blind date to go out with before he returned to the ward. "Crazy boy like you needs a good woman, child," she had told him. Unfortunately, the protests Murdock had presented to the formidable Mrs. B. had fallen on deaf ears.
"Oh, see Hannibal?" Face declared. "I knew we were forgetting something."
"Don't know why mama is so worried about you finding a lady," B.A. growled.
"Because she loves me?" offered Murdock.
Murdock heard B.A. grumble something that sounded suspiciously like expletives.
Eager to override the constant bickering of Murdock and B.A., Hannibal interjected, briskly stating, "She doesn't know Captain. No blind dates for you this time."
"Phew," Murdock returned. "And you especially can't tell her I'm here with Charlie. You all know what'll happen if she finds out."
Face laughed. "She'll give you the third degree and make you promise to marry Charlie? Oh, that might be too good to pass up." Murdock could almost picture the idiotic grin Face must have been sporting.
Again, Hannibal jumped in. "That's a 10-4, Captain. You can tell her when you get back."
"Don't count on it," Murdock replied wryly. "Alright, thanks guys. Call back if you find anything out. Bye!" All three team members returned the sign-off, and Murdock placed the receiver back in the cradle, feeling considerably lighter now that the team was on board and working on an offensive.
Charlie remained motionless outside the bathroom door, momentarily paralyzed with disbelief. Based on what she had just heard of the conversation, she was certain Murdock had just asked his team to lie to a woman, who he claimed to love, about his whereabouts and who he was with. Charlie's chest felt tight, and hot coals of anger ignited deep in her belly. Logic told her that if Murdock wanted to keep his location and Charlie a secret from another woman, he must be fully intending to take his relationship with Charlie far beyond the platonic interactions they were currently engaged in – why else would he need to lie to this other woman? A second infuriating thought then occurred to Charlie: like hell a single room is easier to protect, she seethed. She felt disgusted with herself for misjudging Murdock so completely. He was not the sweet, genuine man she had told him he was; he was a devious slime ball working his slick agenda on her. Letting her damp towel fall to the floor, she couldn't decide whether to cry, or haul off and deck him. She ultimately settled on a third option.
Storming across the room, she made a beeline for a rickety wicker table near the room's door, snatching her keys and purse.
"Oh, hey, Charlie!" Murdock greeted her as she came into sight. He grinned broadly, oblivious to her ire. "I'm getting hungry. Wanna order a pizza?"
Charlie wheeled on him, and he was immediately alarmed by the outrage flaring in her eyes. She narrowed her eyes and looked him dead in the face, before she spat, "Go to hell, you son of a bitch." Then, without waiting for a response, she turned and yanked the door open, stepped purposefully through it, and slammed it so hard a screw fell out of one of the hinges, before she disappeared into the night.