A/N: I'm not a pilot, I've hardly been a passener on planes. I'm distributing purely theoretical internet-knowlege here. Please don't nail me to any one bit. But if you know anything about flying, feel free to point out the errors and correct me. Actually, don't only feel free to, but feel asked to. ;) Thank you.
Murdock received his orders with mixed emotions. He was not sure whether he was still qualified to fly or not. But hey, he wouldn't find out if he didn't try, right? And he just yearned for the sky, wanted to be up there, surrounded by nothing but blue vastness.
Plus it was an easy mission, so there was not much to lose. Just pick up a few crates of canned food and bring them back here. Simple, non-demanding, not dangerous... not essential. Very probably on purpose to ease him back into the job.
Well, if they were making it so easy on him anyways, he might as well go for it and see how it went. And if anything were to go wrong... what had God created co-pilots for?
So here he was, clip-board with papers in one hand, the other hand on the control panel in front of him. He adjusted the headset, got his permission for take-off, ignored his co-pilot as best as he could, he was not needed in the picture until something - maybe - went wrong. Who was that guy anyway? Some baby Flyboy.
Murdock pressed buttons, flipped switches, like he had always done. He felt the plane vibrate with the roar of the engines coming to life. He released the breaks, started to roll. The runway could be smoother, but he loved every little bump that made the plane shake.
He went full throttle, once he was in the right position. Speeding down the runway, watching the end of the strip come close fast.
"What the fuck are you doing?!"
Murdock gave Baby-Flyboy a wide grin, pulled the yoke sharply, and at the very last second the plane soared up at a steep angle.
"You crazy shit! Don't ever..."
Murdock tuned him out. Too absorbed in what was happening, which was wonderful. He was there, whole and complete. Not fractured into a myriad of realities, but fully aware and alive in this one, the real one.
It was so overwhelmingly wonderful that he let it out in a long, loud: "Wooohooo!"
Hannibal watched Murdock take off. It seemed to be ok. He seemed to be ok.
Thank God.
In the camp, Hannibal had had the feeling that Murdock was slipping away, tipping over the edge. He'd always been excentric and a bit nutty, but in the camp... Well, who could blame him with everything that had happened in there?
BA had withdrawn too, and BA was one of the sanest, mentally healthiest guys Hannibal knew.
He had lost himself there for a while.
How could he go and judge Murdock?
He watched the plane until it disappeared behind the tree-line; and kept watching the empty patch of sky for a while after that, before he finally turned.
Murdock seemed to be doing ok.
He turned and almost bumped into BA.
"Hey, Colonel."
"BA."
"We goin' on mission?" BA asked matter-of-factly, although he had to know better.
Hannibal shook his head. No missions anymore, not as a team, anyway. There was no team anymore, thanks to him and his stupidity.
"Hannibal, stop that." BA's voice was determined, but also soft and tender, very unlike him.
"What?" Hannibal was taken by surprise.
"It's not your fault. Face... It's life, you know? That's what it is. Murdock... Honestly I wish he'd talk to you about it, but he's tumbling. So I have to do it. Looks like I'm the only one of us who's still got some wits in his brains."
Hannibal stood silent. It had been a while since he had been told off.
"Get it in your head, Hannibal: You're not more to blame for what happened to Face than me or Murdock."
"I should have listened to Murdock," Hannibal insisted.
"Yeah? Well, so should've I. I didn't, you didn't. And in the end, not even Murdock himself did."
"Right. You listened to me instead. But I'm the CO, I should think straight. I should be able to see consequences. I normally do."
"There was nothing that was normal about the situation, man. And you may be our CO, but you're also human, first of all. You're not a machine, you cannot always be right. You cannot always know everything. You are bound to err every once in a while – don't interrupt!"
Hannibal shut his mouth again without having produced a sound.
"You are our CO, alright. And you are a damned good one. The best I know."
"You don't know so many." He would not stand here and be outsmarted by BA.
"Enough to know what I'm talking about. And I may appear stupid some of the fellas 'round here, but I do know quality, when I see it. So stop kickin' yourself, man."
"I don't think you're stupid." Hannibal made it a point that BA unmistakably knew that about him.
BA wiped it away with the hint of a smile. "I know, man."
"But he..." Hannibal choked, then forced himself to speak on. "He looked so strong, when he left."
"That's 'cause he was strong."
"Yeah, guess so."
"He was, better believe it, no guessing required." BA gently patted Hannibal's shoulder. "Just forgive yourself, already. I'm sure, Face ain't mad at you up there." He pointed up at the sky.
Hannibal nodded, swallowing against the tight knot in his throat. He was pretty sure of that as well. The problem was he didn't think he should be forgiven. Stupidity was an unforgivable sin.
"Nobody but yourself blames you, Hannibal, remember that." BA patted him again, then left.
Hannibal swallowed, blinked away a stray tear.
TBC
