Captcha says: overlook inquiry.
Genre: General
Warnings: Mentions of mental un-health
Being called to a superior officer's office was normally not a good thing. Being called to a superior officer's office usually meant lectures, or reprimands, or sad words about never flying again.
HM Murdock knew this from experience. Always after the first few weeks with new guys, he'd be called to whoever was in charge. They always loved him when he first came; he could fly them anywhere, whenever they wanted. But after the foist weeks spent in awe of his almost unnatural control over the choppers, there were always the questions. Why had he been transferred so much? Why didn't people want to keep him? And then they made inquiries.
They saw his record. Saw the bouts of something resembling schizophrenia. Saw the note of a suicide attempt. Saw the descriptions of hallucinations. And then they told him they didn't want him anymore. It was too dangerous, he wasn't really fit for this, it would be better for him somewhere else.
But he was damned good pilot, and they couldn't send him home just because of some craziness. No, they dumped on the next unsuspecting camp and hoped that it would be a while until they too figured it out.
And now it seemed that these guys had. He should have known that it wouldn't last long. He had hoped that the infamous Col. John Smith would maybe just overlook his past and let him stay, because it wasn't as if the Colonel adhered particularly strictly to military convention. But madness, Murdock guessed, was too much.
He knocked on the Colonel's door and an authoritative voice asked him to enter. He obeyed and saluted as he stepped in front of the man's desk.
"Captain Murdock, Sir", he introduced himself, "You wished to see me, Sir."
Smith studied him closely for a moment, before he nodded briefly. "Quite right, Captain. Take a seat."
At least, Murdock mused, the man was kind enough to let him sit down and make himself comfortable before he was condemned once more. He obediently took of his hat and took a seat very properly in the chair in front of Smith's desk. The Colonel was distractedly thumbing a bunch of papers, not looking at them but instead watching Murdock sitting primly on the edge of the chair.
"I'm very pleased with your flying, Captain", Smith began and Murdock acknowledged the praise with a murmured "sir". The Colonel continued. "I looked briefly at your background, and I thought it was strange that you'd been flung 'round so much so I decided to dig a little deeper."
There it was. Murdock knew what would come next. Either angry accusations, wary looks or apologetic reassurances. He wanted none of them. When Smith didn't say anything more, he realized he was expected to answer and cleared his throat as discreetly as possible.
"Sir?" he said politely. Smith looked at him hard for a moment, before raising his eyebrows and smiling.
"You're insane, Captain", he said, "Everyone thinks so. You're also prone to depression. Everyone agrees that if this war didn't need pilots you'd be holed up in a madhouse."
This was not exactly the way it was supposed to go. Officers took the news of his alleged mental state differently, of course, but no-one had ever been amused by it. And Smith seemed amused, more than anything. The depressions were mentioned with a darkening of his gaze and a frown, as if he disapproved of their existence, but the rest of his judgment was delivered with a slight smile.
"Yes, Sir", Murdock said, when the Colonel paused in obvious expectation of an answer. It didn't matter that he was amused. Reasonable officers couldn't possibly keep a madman on their team, and colonels were always reasonable. It was in the job requirements.
"Is it true?"
That really wasn't in the script for how to fire insane pilots. It was in the file, and that was all that mattered. But Murdock was unable to shake off the feeling that this might be something; that this might lead to something not usual, so he answered truthfully.
"Mostly, Sir."
Smith nodded thoughtfully and leant back in his chair. "You admit you're insane?"
He didn't sound all that incredulous, instead just a little surprised. Perhaps, in Smith's strange world, crazy pilots weren't that uncommon. After all, Murdock had been told that the man was unusual. The question was at least honest. That much Murdock could say for certain, but that didn't make answering any easier. The question of whether there was something wrong with him or not had plagued him through all his childhood and adolescence, and even though the hallucinations hadn't started until after university he had always suspected that something other than his feelings were a bit off.
"I don't know, Sir", he replied, honestly, "I see things sometimes. I have moments when I don't know what's real. And… and there are depressions. And anxiety. But I don't know if I'm crazy, Sir. No-one's ever told me."
"No-one's ever told you..?" the Colonel repeated and then lapsed into silence. He wasn't looking at Murdock, but staring into space and seemingly thinking intently. Murdock was nervous. This man was someone he could enjoy serving under, and it seemed, for the first time since what seemed like forever, that he might be allowed to keep flying him and his men, even with his flaws uncovered.
"Y'know, Captain", Smith continued suddenly, "I've been told I'm crazy. I'm not, though. But whether you're crazy or not isn't really important. You're a damn good pilot, and I want you. What matters is if you can handle this?"
Smith made a gesture indicating everything around him; the camp, the soldiers, the war. He was watching Murdock intently, his uncanny blue eyes fixed on Murdock's face and seemingly never blinking. Murdock swallowed nervously, but managed to reply in a steady voice.
"Yes, Sir", he said. "I can."
The Colonel nodded with a bright smile. "Then, my dear Captain", he said, "I think we can overlook this little inquiry. And call me Hannibal."
A/N: What depresses me is that I should be doing school work instead...
Anyways, thank you for reading and please review!