Back From The Past
A warm breeze ruffled the tree leaves above the picnic table where Murdock and Amy sat. Beneath their feet, the green grass was speckled with an array of shadows and morning sunshine. Only a hedge of bushes lining the gravel path provided any privacy from the rest of the hospital grounds. Other patients strolled by at random. Most were attached to orderlies dressed in white, but a few of the more lucid residents had been allowed to roam freely.
All in all it was turning out to be a pleasant day.
Amy shared a bench with Murdock, quietly listening as he talked. She had asked him to finish the story of his Dustoff days and Daryl White. At first he had refused her, insisting on apologizing for his behavior in the alley instead.
"I'm sorry for how I acted." He had said to her, his eyes deeply troubled.
"It's alright, Murdock. I understand." She had replied, giving him a smile to assure him she hadn't been adversely affected.
He had shaken his head, as he guided her toward the picnic table. "No, it's not alright. I should never have spoken to you in that way. You're my friend, and I certainly should never have hurt you. It was wrong. No matter how bad things get, lashing out at your friends is never acceptable. I was trying to prove I could handle the situation, but by yelling at you I did the exact opposite. I really am sorry."
When they had taken their seats, she patted his arm. "It's in the past Murdock, let's move on. I forgive you. Please, tell me how you got your jacket."
Seemingly satisfied, Murdock then proceeded to pick up where he had left off. Now, half an hour later, he had managed to paint her an excruciatingly real picture of the death of a friend. If there was one thing she had gained from his story, it was a greater respect for the bond the A-Team shared. Watching all four men in action, it was easy to forget what might happen to the rest if one of them was killed.
Amy observed Murdock as he explained his first meeting with Claire White and the children. The moment the word 'daddy' left his lips he halted, swallowing hard. His eyes had been misty since the start of his storytelling, but presently Amy swore she saw tears brimming.
"I'm sorry." Murdock apologized again, taking a beat. He ran a hand over his chin, trying to gain a hold on his emotions. "It's just, you're the first person I…I ever told this too. I never…" he faded off, turning his head away to hide his face.
A tide of compassion filled Amy. She knew it was taking a lot for him to let her witness his struggle.
"It's okay." She whispered, willing to let him take it slow.
In the distance a car pulled through the VA gates, its tires squelching on the gravel strewn tarmac.
Waiting for him to continue, Amy couldn't help but wonder why he had decided to confide in her. It had taken her so long to integrate herself into the team; she sometimes wondered if they even cared she was there? Perhaps that was why Murdock had chosen to talk to her. She wasn't one of the guys, she was neutral. Despite herself, Amy smiled. Thanks to Murdock, she now knew her presence did matter –even if just to him.
After another quiet minute, she leaned forward and touched his hand. The pilot didn't move. He seemed to be detaching himself from the conversation. She could tell his mind was wandering by his fascination with watching the visitors climbing out of the newly parked car.
"Hey," Amy said, giving his palm an encouraging squeeze. At the pressure Murdock turned back around, his hollow gaze finding hers. They both knew he needed to finish what he had started. No matter how hard. Burying it again would only do more damage. Sitting beside him, she was fully prepared to give all the support he needed.
"Claire gave you the jacket, didn't she?" Amy coaxed gently, forcing him to return to the memories. Murdock's mouth twitched into an almost-smile. Something in his eyes changed.
"They both did," He replied, his voice husky…
"Daddy!"
The moment the word left Joanie's lips, hush fell over the room. Murdock suddenly felt as if he'd stalled out at five hundred knots in an F-4 Phantom. His stomach dropped to the soles of his shoes and his mind reeled. In that instant, he experienced every sensation of spinning into a free falling nose dive. His vision blurred. His heart raced. To make matters worse, everyone appeared too stunned to register.
After a pause, Claire looked up from the letter she'd been reading. The delayed gravity of what had happened hit her like a ton of bricks.
"What?" She gaped, her eyes wide.
"Joanie—" Walter gasped.
"I have to go." Murdock said. His heartbeat pulsed unsteadily. It was getting harder to breathe. He needed to get out. "Uh, I'm sorry, excuse me I...I have to go." He repeated distractedly, shakily handing May off to her bewildered mother.
Claire secured the pass –still trying to recover. "H.M. what, what are you doing?"
"I just remembered I, uh, need to be somewhere." Murdock replied lamely. Grabbing his hat off the table he put it on, nearly tripping over the dog in his haste.
"Murdock, wait—" Claire tried again. May sat on her hip, clutching her sweater.
"Thanks for the tea and your time." He said, backing away from them. Bumping into Walter, he sidestepped into Mrs. Boss and pulled away, unnerved, with a mumbled, "Nice meeting you sirs...ma'am…sir, ma'am..."
Flustered, Murdock wheeled about and made for the doorway. His brain refused to think any further than imminent escape. Muttering incoherent apologies, he made the hallway and then ducked into the foyer. Intent on leaving the kitchen far behind, he managed to open the front door –despite the row of snow boots blocking the hinges.
The cold air struck his heated face, bringing a measure of relief. Once he was outside, Murdock felt free. On the porch he gained the stairs, a wave of anger rushed through his raw nerves. Never before had he been so trapped –so out of place. He kicked at a fallen icicle in his path, sending it skittering along the flagstone walkway.
It should never have been me! He thought resentfully. It should never have been me in that house. It should have always been Daryl!
For the first time in his life, he felt guilty for living. Adding salt to the wound, he also felt guilty for leaving. Deep down he knew running out hadn't been the answer. He should have stayed –even if just for the children's sake. But when he couldn't control his emotions, the sentiment 'cowboy up' simply wasn't an option. If he could only throw-up, then perhaps the sickening weight in his gut would recede.
Under a pale blue sky, Murdock walked briskly down the front yard. Passing the lone snowman in the pilots scarf, he avoided looking into its black rock eyes. All the sadness and frustration that had been bottled up inside him for weeks was beginning to surface. He couldn't stop it. Wiping at his running nose, Murdock tried to tell himself it was a combination of tea and cold air, but the hot tears welling in his eyes made him a liar.
Reaching the gate, he yanked it forcefully open and stepped out onto the neighborhood sidewalk. He didn't know where he was going, he just needed to walk. Half way to the cul-de-sac at the end of the street, Murdock heard the sharp 'bang' of a screen door closing.
"Murdock! Wait!" Claire's voice carried after him.
He ignored her, too ashamed to turn around.
"Darn it! Do not make me chase you!" Claire ordered. Her running footsteps grew closer; she wasn't going to let him escape so easily.
Realizing Claire would probably follow him to the airport given the chance, he decided to stop. Sighing in agitation, Murdock gritted his teeth and slowed his pace to a gradual halt. Drawing a steadying breath, he quickly swept his jacket sleeve over his face to hide his tears. Once the evidence was gone, he squared his shoulders and turned around. Claire met him there, awkwardly slipping on her winter coat. Her cheeks had already begun to grow pink from running in the cold. In the crook of her right arm was Daryl's A-2 and crumpled in her hand was the letter.
"H.M., Joanie didn't know any better." Claire said, "It's not your fault."
"Isn't it?" Murdock snapped bitterly. For weeks, he'd been unable to talk, but now the restraints were off. He couldn't keep the words inside any longer. "I watched him die—"
"He died in surgery—"
"He was dead when he got there!" Murdock cussed under his breath. "They may have tried to save what was left of him, sure, but they couldn't. Why? Because what was Daryl, died on that chopper eight hundred feet above Viet Cong territory. And I held his hand while he did it."
Claire shook her head, refusing to agree. He was hurting her, he could tell, but it didn't slow him down. "I felt him die. But I couldn't stop it. Every night I dream about it; the heat, the fuel, the smell of his blood –his blood, Claire. No matter how hard I try, I can't wash it off!"
Thrusting out his good hand, he held it palm up for her to see. Had he actually looked, he would have seen what she saw: nothing. But in his head it was there –a faded stain so ingrained in the grooves of his skin, that no amount of scrubbing could remove it. To him it was real and he could see it.
"And this," Murdock touched his wounded shoulder. "I was flying next to him when he was shot. It could have easily been me instead of him. He had you and the kids; I have nothing, no one, zilch. Hell, it should have been me!" He shouted his voice hoarse.
"Yes!" Claire shouted back, nearly stamping her foot. Her outburst took him by surprise. "Yes," she repeated, "It could have been you—"
Murdock opened his mouth to agree.
"–but it wasn't." She stopped him. "It's not your fault he's dead. C'est la vie, remember?"
Setting his jaw stubbornly, Murdock wasn't ready to give in. "Aren't you the least bit angry?" He asked, genuinely mystified by her reserved behavior. "He was your husband for crying out loud!"
"Of course I'm angry!" Claire exclaimed, almost laughing at the absurdity of the question. "I am angry. I am so angry! But what's the point? If I'm angry, it's only because I feel sorry for myself. Sorry, because I feel cheated out of the time I could have spent with my husband. Time our children could have had with their father. But being angry at God, or Daryl, or the war is useless. I agreed with his decision to volunteer for Vietnam –I may have not liked it, but I respected it. He felt it was his duty to go and I wasn't going to stop him. And all of us, including you, knew the risks involved when serving our country. They don't call it the 'ultimate sacrifice' for nothing Murdock. It's pointless to blame anyone, especially yourself."
"But I was there." Murdock stressed, still struggling to let go.
"Yes, you were." Claire said calmly. "I can't begin to imagine what that must have been like, but at least you were there. I wasn't. My husband died, and I never even got to say goodbye. If I'm angry so be it, but if you are, well, unless you really wanted to die Murdock, I'm guessing you're angry because deep down, truthfully, you are relieved it wasn't you."
Her words were hard, but nonjudgmental. For a moment he was stunned. The implication of what she had said was difficult to digest, yet, even if it was partially true, it was still overshadowed by the giant hole in his heart where his best friend had once been. Yes, he hadn't wanted to die, but no, that was not why he was angry.
"Your family—me being here is not right." Murdock said, helplessly frustrated and confused. "I should never have come to see you. I've only made it worse for them."
Claire sighed, "No, H.M. Do you remember when I said 'it's too bad we aren't family?"
He nodded.
"Well, that wasn't true. You are family."
Murdock shifted his weight uncomfortably, "We only just met today—"
"So?" Claire said simply. "My husband knew you for a year, and through him we got to know you too. He thought of you as more than a friend Murdock. Daryl had no siblings. His mother died when he was born and he was raised by his father into his teens. Then his dad died as well. You understood him. I know he thought of you as the brother he never had."
"I didn't know any of that." Murdock said, his brow furrowing lightly. "But then again, I didn't ask either."
"Daryl was never big on talking about anything that concerned him or his life. He usually kept everything bottled up inside. Sometimes, when he was upset, he wouldn't talk at all. I always thought he would eventually explode." Claire replied wryly. "But, if he were here now, I think we both know what he would say…"
Murdock shot her a diffident look. She arched her eyebrow, waiting for him to finish her sentence. He knew the answer, but the part of him which was still burdened and in pain refused to play along. Claire continued to egg him silently on, her pursed lips slipping into a smile. His mouth twitched in response, not wanting to return the gesture.
Finally he broke, unable to resist her wordless prodding. "I reckon he would say: 'stop complaining.'" Murdock exhaled reluctantly. His stubborn expression melted into a half embarrassed grin. "I've heard that plenty of times."
"Yes, me too," Claire agreed, laughingly. Despite her smile, Murdock caught her eyes glistening. The sight of it prompted him to speak.
"You are wrong about one thing though." He said.
"What's that?" She asked.
"Pots, Daryl, did talk about himself. You, and the girls, were a part of him and he never stopped talking about you three. The last thing he asked was for me to tell you how much he loved you –all of you."
"Even the dog?" Claire joked tearfully.
"Especially the dog," Murdock said, winking reassuringly.
Claire nodded, satisfied yet sniffing. "Yeah, well, he had something to say about you too ya know."
Murdock's brow lifted. "Oh, really?" He asked, waiting for the punch line.
Instead, Claire cleared her throat and held up the letter she'd been carrying. Finding her place, she read from the crinkled paper, "If it is at all possible, please give my Da Nang to Cap'n Howlin' Mad—"
Murdock's head shot up in surprise, his eyes widening. Out of all the things he had expected to hear, this was not one of them. He was so shocked, he nearly missed what came next as Claire continued on.
"Since I am no longer around to protect his scrawny backside, he's gonna need it. Come to think of it, I think he always needed that jacket more than I ever did. If he refuses to accept it tell him; one day he'll be where I am, and then we'll have an eternity to settle it like men. Trust me; in a fight…we both know who'd win."
In spite of the brusque teasing, Murdock knew how significant it was to be entrusted with Daryl's jacket. The act bordered on an honor.
"He's right, you should have it." Claire said extending the A-2 between them. Murdock hesitated, unsure.
"It's what he wanted." She said gently, urging him to claim it.
Reaching out tentatively, Murdock touched the leather. Taking the jacket from her, he held it carefully in his hand feeling the weight.
Once he'd accepted, Claire went back to the letter, "And make sure to tell him about the tiger. If he's going to wear it, he should know."
Murdock studied the painted beast, "He never did tell me that."
"Well I can," Claire folded the page, and clutched her coat closed for warmth, "Daryl's father was a Vet –a pilot from World War II. He flew with the 1st American Volunteer Group under Chennault to be exact. The AVG was nicknamed—"
"The Flying Tigers," Murdock finished, genuinely impressed.
"Yup, and they are why Daryl wanted to be a pilot." Claire explained. "He learned to fly everything from choppers to jet planes because he wanted to live up to his father's legacy."
"He was good at it too." Murdock said thoughtfully, tucking the jacket under his arm. "He wanted to wear the tiger, so it would remind him to be the best he could be, didn't he? The luck was himself, wasn't it?"
Claire blinked, "That's right. How did you know?"
"Because," He nodded his head, "it's like you said, I guess I really did understand him…"
"I promised her I'd take care of the jacket," Murdock said, drawing back from the past. "And it's never left me since."
Beside him, Amy studied the ground. Her back to the table, she sat forward, her forearms resting on her knees. She hadn't moved since he had begun talking again.
The breeze picked up again, swaying the leaves above them with a distinct rustle. Amy lifted a hand and ran it through her short hair, deep in thought. Murdock sat next to her, waiting. Slipping her a side glance, he could tell she was still trying to process everything she'd been told. Her smooth brow was creased in concentration. Watching her face, he was happy with his decision to leave out any details regarding Hoa Lo.
After a pause he continued, if only to fill the silence, "This jacket is a part of me now, and sometimes it's the only piece of myself I can trust to be real."
At this, Amy looked up curiously, "What do you mean?"
In answer, Murdock swung his feet over the bench and slid his legs under the table. Setting his elbows on the wooden top, he pointed toward the white walls of the VA. Amy adjusted her position as well, her eyes following his gesture toward the hospital towering above the grounds.
"If you spend enough time around people who tell you you're crazy on a daily basis, you start to question if, maybe, you really are," Murdock explained. "Then, you start to wonder if perhaps this entire life you think you're living is only a delusion. Wearing this," he patted his sleeve, "keeps me grounded. I can't explain why, or how, but it just does. Daryl was my link to reality in Nam, and I guess you can say he still is."
"So, you do think about him then?" Amy asked quietly.
"Yeah," Murdock replied. "I remember him once and awhile, but I blocked out the day he died a long time ago. Yesterday was the first time I thought about that in almost twelve years. At first it felt okay to revisit it, but then Faceman was in trouble and…" He stopped.
"And it wasn't just a memory anymore." Amy finished for him. "It was the past in the present, right?"
"Let's just say," Murdock frowned, suddenly evasive, "If it had happened again, I don't know what I would have done."
By the graveness of his tone, she knew she was pushing an issue he didn't wish to pursue. Amy backed off, respecting his boundaries. She had already dug up old wounds, albeit by accident, which luckily he had managed to deal with openly. The last thing she wanted was to upset him again.
"Thanks." Amy said, "Thanks for telling me."
He laughed. "Trust me; I can hardly believe I did. Those days were some of the hardest I've ever been through in my life. It was the second time I lost a family."
"So, you never saw Claire and the kids after that?" She asked, setting her purse on the table in front of her.
Murdock ran his hand over his chin, "Nope. After I went back to Nam, I joined the A-Team. It was easier to detach –we never even said goodbye. Claire and I exchanged several letters, but when our missions in Cambodia started I stopped. It's hard getting mail when no one knows where you are."
Amy nodded understandingly. "And you never tried to find them after you were discharged?"
"No." He said definitively, knotting his fingers together. "Between the court-martial and the sanity hearing it didn't seem like a good idea."
"And now?"
"Fugitives aside, I live in a psychiatric hospital. I doubt I'm someone anyone would want to reunite with. Besides, it's been years. I wouldn't even know where to start."
Opening her purse, Amy withdrew a piece of paper she had been saving for this moment. Poking Murdock's arm with a forefinger to get his attention, she handed him the slip.
"Here."
"What's this?" He asked, checking both sides of the paper.
"That is Claire White's home phone number." Amy answered, snapping her purse closed again.
Murdock's brow shot up in surprise. He read the seven digits written on the slip, "What, how?"
"After you guys dropped me off at the newspaper yesterday, I did some digging. I was curious, so I tracked her down." Amy explained. "According to records, Claire never remarried. She and her two daughters are currently residing in Palm Beach, Florida. Her eldest daughter, May, is now nineteen. And get this; she has recently joined the National Guard."
Nudging Murdock's side with an elbow, it took Amy a second to realize he wasn't responding.
"I looked into Joanie, too." She continued, hoping to draw him out. "She has just turned sixteen, and aside from straight A's in school, she also owns a blue '67 Mustang convertible which she worked all summer to buy from her next door neighbor."
Again, nothing.
"Murdock, calm down. You're way too excited." Amy said dryly, bumping him playfully with a shoulder.
Ignoring her efforts he turned the paper over twice, distressed, "What am I supposed to do with this?" He asked, treating the slip like a foreign object.
Sighing, Amy rolled her eyes. "You're supposed to call her Murdock." She said flatly.
He shook his head, "Uh-huh, no, I can't."
"Yes, you can." She countered, "Yesterday, you didn't know if you could talk about Daryl, and yet today you managed to tell me. Despite what others may think, I know you're just fine." Reaching out she tweaked his cap brim good naturedly. "You are so special Murdock, and by far one of the most inspiring people I have ever met. To hear what you've gone through, I know you'll survive a phone call."
"Wanna bet." He growled, but then shot her a toothy grin. "Thanks." He added.
"For what?" Amy asked.
"For just…listening," He said softly, his gaze bright and clear for the first time in a long while.
Scooting closer, she impulsively leaned over to give him a hug. Whether it was because of his big brown eyes or bashful smile, Amy didn't know. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she gave him an encouraging squeeze. Murdock smiled against her shoulder, his own arms encircling her waist. He drew her in, welcoming the impromptu embrace.
"Anytime," Amy whispered in his ear before withdrawing from the hug. He dropped his hands only to have her catch one in both of hers. Looking him straight in the eyes, she shook his hand gently. "And don't be worried about who you are. VA or no VA, it won't matter to Claire. From what you've told me about her, I don't think you're giving her—or yourself—enough credit."
Murdock regarded her with a measure of admiration, "Ah, Chiquita. Just when did you get so smart?"
"I have no idea," Amy feigned innocence, and then smiled. "It must be from hanging out with the A-Team."
The End
AN: First, I'd like to thank everyone who left reviews. I really appreciate everything that was said, and a big thanks for sticking with me on this! As an added bonus, I'd like to share a song I recently found that, I feel, fits uncannily well for the Murdock in this story. It's called 'Breaking Inside' by Shinedown.