Murdock walked quietly along toward 73rd street. He was dressed in a pair of old pants, a dirty shirt he'd pulled from his laundry, and a ripped jacket his neighbor at the VA had discarded in the trash. He added his father's old fedora to the outfit to make his bum disguise look genuine. In his right hand, he held a paper bag, filled to make it look like he had a bottle of something in it.
As he came upon 73rd and Lockner, he started a drunken stagger, and turned into the alley Face had told him about. It was empty, save for an overflowing garbage dumpster by the back door of the restaurant on the corner - and a bum, sleeping in between two large bags of garbage. The bum had an overgrown, gray beard, and hair that looked like it hadn't been washed in probably months. He was wearing no shoes, and had ratty slacks on that were torn at the ankle hem. An old trench coat hid the rest of his face from view as he slept.
Taking a deep breath, and hoping to God that it really was Hannibal , Murdock staggered over and slid down the wall next to the sleeping figure. He hit the concrete with a grunt. The man next to him shifted slightly, and pushed himself into a sitting position.
"Who the hell are you?" he said in a drunken, raspy voice.
"Jose," Murdock replied, waving his paper bag haphazardly in the air. He stuck it out toward his new companion. "Shot of tequila?"
The bum narrowed his blue eyes at Murdock, but took the bag nonetheless. He opened up the paper lunch bag, and looked down into it. There was no tequila. Instead, he found a bunch of balled up socks, and on top of them, sat a note.
Made contact with mutual friend. Needs help. Code 5 Alpha 2
The bum looked up at Murdock, and stared right into his eyes. After a few seconds, his hard expression turned into a look of relief.
"Murdock?" he whispered.
Murdock nodded, holding back from enveloping the Colonel in a hug. If anyone were watching them, it had to look like two bums sharing a drink.
"Glad to find you here, Jack! Where ya been?" Murdock slurred.
"Here an' thereere ," Hannibal said. He reached for another paper bag, one with a real bottle inside it, and took a long drink. Murdock furrowed his brow in worry.
I don't think Hannibal is faking drunk this time.
"Jack... let's find some chow... I got war stories for ya!" Murdock said with gusto, almost falling over as he flailed his arms for dramatic effect. Hannibal looked directly at him, and Murdock could tell that his friend was hurting. Whatever happened three months ago was taking its toll on Hannibal, and Murdock had to save him.
Murdock clumsily got to his feet, and motioned for "Jack" to let him be helped up. Hannibal glared at his friend, but let Murdock help him up. The two of them staggered to the other end of the alley, appearing to hold each other up. As soon as they were clear, and Murdock was sure they weren't followed, he dropped his drunken charade and held his really drunk friend upright, as he led them toward an old pickup truck.
"Come on, Colonel, work with me here... you're not exactly light, you know."
"Murdoccckkkk..."
Murdock pulled open the passenger door of the truck, and wrestled Hannibal inside and put the seat belt on him. He hurried to the driver's side and jumped in. He pulled onto the nearest road and started driving away from downtown L.A.
"What'r doin' here... Murdockkkkkk," Hannibal slurred, as he tilted into the window.
"First we find a place to sober you up, and then we can talk," Murdock said authoritatively. He'd been in this situation many times, with many friends, but never with Hannibal. The Colonel was never this irresponsible.
Murdock drove into the outskirts of Los Angeles and found a ragged-looking motel that was the perfect hideout, while Hannibal regained his wits. He switched the trench coat to a nicer looking sport jacket that he'd borrowed from Face ages ago, and fixed the fedora on his head before dashing inside to book a room. When he came back out, he had the key to the most secluded room in the place, and the teenage desk clerk was convinced that Murdock was from the FBI, and that no one could know that he was ever here.
Murdock pulled around to the room and parked the truck quickly. He rushed around and pulled the passenger door open just in time for Hannibal to nearly collapse on top of him.
"Great... just wonderful, Hannibal. Come on, let's get you inside."
He waited until he thought his friend was finished, and helped him out of the seat belt. He helped Hannibal get out of the truck, and led him into the room. When they got inside, He quickly got his friend over to the only bed in the room. Ten minutes later, Hannibal was passed out under the covers, and Murdock was sitting tiredly in the ratty armchair on the other side of the room.
How am I going to fix this?
Hannibal's hands immediately went to his aching head as he opened his eyes. A groan escaped his mouth as he attempted to sit up. He realized then that he wasn't on the street, where he'd gone to sleep. He was in a motel room. He pushed the covers off of himself and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Who had brought him here?
The outside door to the room opened, and his eyes went wide in surprise when Murdock came through, carrying a tray with two coffees, and a bag that smelled like breakfast.
"You're awake."
"Yeah."
Murdock handed him a cup of coffee, which he took gratefully.
"How did you find me?" Hannibal asked as he reached for the duffel bag that Murdock had brought in.
"Face called me."
Hannibal's head snapped up to meet Murdock's eyes.
"Face? He's alive? Where is he? How is he?
"One question at a time, Muchacho. He's, well... he's been with Dubrio for the past three months."
"He's being kept prisoner?"
"Not exactly."
Hannibal dug through the bag and came out with a disposable razor and a can of shaving cream.
"What do you mean, not exactly, Murdock?"
"He's on Dubrio's payroll."
"He's what?"
"You can talk to Face about it after we get him out of there. What I wanna know is what in God's name happened three months ago? No one on this team has their head on straight - Face is working for the mob - you've become a real wine-o, and B.A. is God knows where - I'm just lost, Colonel."
"Sit down, Murdock. I'll explain."
Murdock handed him his breakfast, and Hannibal told his story while they ate.
~ 3 months earlier ~
Hannibal paced back and forth at the edge of camp, his rifle in hand. He scanned the area with his eyes, expecting any kind of move from the enemy. The sun had almost completely set, and darkness was setting in. The forest was thick, and he was having trouble seeing more than 10 feet in front of him.
Face had been sleeping for a couple of hours. The kid needed the rest. They all did, really, but he cared about Face first and foremost. They'd seen a lot of blood and death, but nothing could compare to what it feels to see a loved one violently taken from one's life, as Face had experienced .
Hannibal turned to pace to the left, and a split second later, a bullet whizzed by his head and hit a tree. He dropped to his knees, pointing his rifle in the direction he thought the bullet had come from. He grabbed for the radio at his hip, but before he could lay a hand on it, he felt the pressure of a rifle being pushed into the back of his head.
"Get up."
Hannibal silently did as asked, and got to his feet. As he did, he attempted to swing around and hit his attacker. He hit the man in his stomach, and while the man stumbled backward, Hannibal tried to run toward the camp to warn B.A. As he neared the edge of the clearing, automatic gunfire rained bullets across his path in the dirt, and he stopped. He looked up, and his face fell as he saw B.A. with two guns held on him, in the middle of the clearing. Hannibal felt a gun in his back, this time, and then a hand shoving him forward.
"Get over there, old man."
Hannibal chuckled as he joined B.A.
"Where is the other one?"
B.A. exchanged looks with Hannibal as a new member of the group stepped forward and made a beeline for the zipped up tent. He pulled the zipper open, and Hannibal saw Face, crouched by the opening, with a pistol in his hand. Face was dragged out of the tent by his shirt, and thrown unceremoniously to the ground at Hannibal's feet.
"Do you have any more men hiding out here?"
"No," was Hannibal's quick reply.
The man with the British accent, clearly the leader, pulled Face to his feet and wrenched an arm behind his back.
"This one comes with us."
"No! Don't kill them!" Face shouted with anguish in his voice. Hannibal nodded to him reassuringly as he was dragged away fighting, but Face didn't seem to notice it. When Face was out of visual range, Hannibal made his move. He swept the feet of the man behind him, and in one move had his weapon.
"Everyone drop your guns, now!" he pointed the gun at the fallen man. "He'll be dead before you get a shot at me."
Everyone dropped their weapons to the dirt. Hannibal exchanged a look with B.A. He wasn't sure if the Sergeant was totally with him on what he was about to do next, but he would do it nonetheless. Hannibal pointed the gun straight ahead and fired at the man standing in front of them. One shot and he was down. He quickly turned and shot the man behind them.
All was silent.
B.A. stared at Hannibal, shocked.
"Hannibal... you just-"
"Yeah."
"Man... you lost your mind! You killed them in cold blood!"
"If I hadn't, they'd have gone back to Dubrio and told him we're still alive. We have more time to disappear now."
"What about Face? Dubrio gonna kill him!"
"Face will be fine... you and me need to get gone, and fast."
"You lost it, man... I don't know you anymore."
Hannibal and B.A. silently packed up the campsite and headed back to where B.A. had hidden his van.
Present..
"Why didn't you go after Face?" Murdock asked angrily. "Dubrio could've killed him, and you didn't even go after him!"
"Murdock-"
"You once told me that we never leave a man behind... ever. You went against your own rules, Colonel."
"It's been eating at me for months... why do you think I turned into Jack Daniels?"
Murdock smiled.
"I thought I was the insane one on this team."
Hannibal chuckled.
"OK - we need to find the Big Guy, and we all need to go and get Faceman away from Dubrio . Agreed?"
"Yeah."
Murdock drank the last bit of his coffee, and got up to start cleaning up their stuff.
"Murdock?"
"Yeah, Colonel?"
"Thanks, you know, for-"
"What are friends for?"
Hannibal smiled as he picked up the duffel bag.
"Let's go find B.A."
TBC ...