Morale
Disclaimer: I do not own The A Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A Team.
Chapter 48 Black Dog O'Keene
When B. A. stopped by Murdock's bedside to go with him to the mail room the next day, he found the pilot busily writing on a notepad.
Murdock stopped for a moment, chewing on the eraser end of the pencil as he read what he had written. With a scowl, he erased a portion of the letter and cast his gaze down to the floor while he rethought what he wanted to say. He was concentrating so hard he hadn't even drunk the glass of milk beside him on the chair.
"Who ya writin' to?" The black Sergeant felt a twinge of guilt.
I owe Momma a letter.
He had been so intent on making sure the Captain didn't slip back into a state of depression that he hadn't taken the time to write it.
Maybe t'night. I'll make time t'night.
A pinkish blush appeared on the pilot's hollowed cheeks. Murdock had not regained his weight as quickly as B. A. or Hannibal had. The Sergeant hadn't noticed that until now. He winced at the memory of the starvation and long hours the man had been tortured and kept in isolation.
He still looks like a skeleton with skin stretched over him. An' his eyes still have some kind o' crazy in 'em even when he's bein' serious.
The Captain looked up, unaware until then of B. A.'s presence. For a moment he hesitated to answer, then sighed resignedly. "I'm writin' t' Cyndy. Thought I should at least let 'er know I got 'er letter."
"Mm-hmm. She's yer special gal back home, ain' she." B. A. allowed a rare smile to creep onto his face.
It's good the fool's got someone who cares 'bout him back home. Gives him somethin' ta keep him wantin' ta get better. Lord knows I ain' gonna be able ta keep him goin' after tomorrow.
"Yeah. She's somethin' else, Big Guy. Wants t' be a nurse someday. Real smart 'n' th' sweetest gal I ever knew." His eyes took on a pensive look as he let the memory of their last conversation, the one before he checked out of the hospital and left Texas, wash over him. B. A. waited.
Fool loves that gal. Ya can see it written all over his face.
Then the pilot shook his head slightly as if to force his mind back into the present. "You got someone like that waitin' fer you t' get home?" Murdock scrutinized the black man's face as he said it. An amused glint came to his eye. "Ya do! Ya do, don'tcha!"
B. A. growled an irritated answer. He wasn't really upset. It was good to see the pilot with a gleeful look on his face after all the previous weeks of pain and suffering.
"Well, there was this gal Deborah . . . " The Sergeant knew he was opening himself up to future teasing but if that was what it took to keep Murdock from embracing his internal mental pain . . .
"So are ya ready ta go an' check for a letter from Nurse Margie?"
I don' wanna keep him from finishin' that letter but I gotta talk ta him 'bout things. Might be one of my last chances b'fore I go.
Murdock cast a regretful eye on what he had written and reluctantly tucked the pencil and paper under his pillow. "I guess I can mail that t'morrow when we go to th' mail room."
Tomorrow? I'm gonna be on a plane goin' back t' Da Nang.
Delaying the bad news he had to give the other man, B. A. nodded at the glass on the chair. "Drink yer milk an' we'll go."
Shrugging, Murdock picked up the glass and drained it quickly. Wiping away the milk mustache with his sleeve, he raised his eyebrows. "Done. Can we go now?"
Wonder who's gonna make him keep eatin' an' takin' care o' himself when I ain' here?
B. A. watched as the pilot searched for his cane and slowly stood. Glancing at B. A., he frowned. "Now what's that look for? You got somethin' t' tell me?"
"Let's start walkin' an' we'll talk as we go." The Sergeant gestured toward the ward door with his head.
Murdock gave him an apprehensive look as he limped along beside him. They were silent until they got outside.
"Now why don' ya tell me what yer tryin' so hard not t' tell me?" The pilot stopped and carefully moved until he was blocking the Sergeant's path. "We go no further 'til ya do."
B. A. tried to brush by him but Murdock shifted his position to stop him again. "Now don' make me hafta try 'n' dance with ya, Big Guy. I ain' got my dancin' shoes on 'n' this knee makes me a bit clumsy anyways."
B. A. forced himself to gaze directly into Murdock's eyes.
"Doc figures my arm can jus' as easily be cared for back in Da Nang. They're gonna prob'ly put me on light duty 'til I get my muscle strength back. I leave tomorrow." He wasn't sure what kind of reaction he woud receive so he blurted, "Listen, man, if it was up ta me, I'd stay here 'til you was ready ta go an' we'd go back t'gether."
The Captain nodded, twisting his head away and pretending to watch a patient amble toward the mess hall. A flicker of something . . . was it disappointment or sadness? . . . passed across his face. His mouth tightened and his jaw muscles twitched for a second before he turned back to the Sergeant.
Placing a hand on the black man's shoulder, Murdock gave B. A. an artificial smile. "That's great. No need t' stay b'hind jus' for li'l ol' me. I'll be fine. I seen th' way Nurse Ann looks at ya. Maybe now I got a chance. Ya almost charm 'em as good as . . . " He stopped and closed his eyes for a second.
Swallowing, he said, "No, ya ain' happy jus' sittin' 'round. B'sides . . . " The mischief returned to his eyes. " . . . I got Billy here t' keep me comp'ny. Right, boy?" He bent slightly to scratch an imaginary furry ear.
The black man grumbled a quick "There ain' no dog, fool" and was pleased when Murdock sputtered a protest. "Let's go ask 'bout our mail."
They walked in silence until they reached the waiting line of patients. The Marine from the day before spied Murdock approaching and watched while he leaned against the wall and stroked the air at his knee. He was two patients ahead of them but slipped out of the line to stand behind the pilot.
He smirked as he observed the dog-petting pantomime. "Nice dog you got there. What kind is he? Yellow shiteater?"
Murdock flashed a warning glance at B. A. before straightening to answer with a wide grin. "Billy here? He's a purebred huntin' dog. He can sniff out gooks faster 'n twenty Marines. 'N' bite? He bites real hard." His gaze turned cold and his smile disappeared. "Wanna see how hard, pilgrim?"
"My name's O'Keene but you can call me Trouble," the soldier sneered.
"Murdock." B. A. pulled at the Captain's light blue pajama sleeve but he jerked his arm away.
I ain' afraid of this guy but I ain' gonna be 'round tomorrow ta fight his battles. What's he doin' tryin' ta rile this guy up?
"It's alright, Big Guy. Th' man asked a question 'n' I gave 'im an answer. What's wrong with that?" Even the pilot's voice had acquired a chilled menacing tone. He squinted at the Marine and scrutinized him from head to toe before slowly and deliberately turning his back to him.
"I don't believe we're done yet." The Marine gripped the Captain's shoulder and spun him around. As Murdock turned, he grasped his cane, one hand at either end and brought it up to the soldier's throat. He thrust the other man against the wall and throttled him with the walking stick.
"My footin's a bit unsteady with my knee th' way it is. Let me know if I'm puttin' a li'l too much pressure on ya, ya hear . . . Trouble?" he spat in the Marine's face and snugged the makeshift weapon tighter on his neck.
The other man kicked at Murdock's right leg and connected. The Captain lost his grip on the cane and tumbled off the sand-covered boardwalk and over the sand bags to the ground. As he crumpled into a curled up heap, he clutched his knee and yelped.
B. A. saw the pilot's face pale and his teeth clench with the pain the wrenching movement caused. Before the Marine could take more than two steps toward the man on the ground, the Sergeant gripped him under the arms and held him back.
Instead of gratitude, Murdock showed anger. "It's my fight 'n' if I don' deal with it now, I'm gonna hafta later. Now stay outta it, B. A." he gasped as he struggled to regain his feet. The brief fight had attracted the attention of everyone in the line.
One of the men standing closest to them hissed a warning. "Watch it! Doctors comin' this way."
B. A. released O'Keene and growled a threat before turning to help Murdock to his feet.
The pilot shook his head at the offered hand. "Once yer gone, I'm gonna hafta figure how t' do this for myself." Grimacing as he did it, he used the cane to push himself to his feet. He swayed as he took his place in line again.
The two staff doctors passed by the line of patients, only briefly looking at the dust-covered Captain and the scowling O'Keene. They disappeared through the door of the nearest ward.
"Ya okay, fool?" B. A. mumbled to Murdock. His dark eyes watched the Marine behind them for any sign he wanted to resume the fight.
"Don' know. Knee's hurtin' somethin' fierce. Might o' pulled somethin' in it." The pilot swallowed and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes as he did.
If the crazy man hurt hisself again, it's gonna be even longer b'fore he's able ta get back ta Da Nang. Doc needs ta check it out an' see how bad it is.
B. A. scrutinized the pain-filled expression on the other man's face. He knew he should probably help Murdock back to his bed and make up an excuse to get the pilot's knee looked at. Even so, he would leave it up to Murdock to decide. "Let me know if ya wanna go on back ta the ward."
"Naw. Got this far already. Might as well do what we came t' do." Murdock gave the black man a weak smile. "No reason t' change what we been doin' every day, is there?" He glared at O'Keene once more before taking his place at the window and asking if there was any mail for him. There was none.
Later as they sat on the beach watching the waves lap on shore, B. A. frowned at the Captain. "What the hell were ya thinkin' 'bout back there, man. Ya got a death wish or somethin'?"
Murdock snorted and rubbed his knee. "I've had folks all my life wanna beat on me for one reason 'r 'nother. There's always gonna be someone tries t' prove what kind o' tough guy they are. O'Keene ain' so tough. I seen worse."
"I dunno, fool. He gotcha on the ground, would o' gone after ya if I hadn't held him back. What ya gonna do when I ain' here?" The pilot shook his head and smirked. B. A. gripped his shoulder to get his attention. "I mean it. Whatcha gonna do?"
The pilot's expression grew somber as he thought about it. Absently, he rubbed Billy's imaginary ears. Finally he spoke. "Won't need t' fight 'im if I stay outta his way, now will I?"
"An' what if he makes sure ya get in his way?" He winced at the shrug Murdock gave him.
It's almost like he wants ta be O'Keene's punchin' bag.
B. A. noted the crazy gleam come into the pilot's eyes.
"Th' nex' time I'll be ready for 'im."
