Summary: Murdock finds a friend. Chapter Nine-and-a-half in the Chronicles. Just a little itch, because Murdock got tired of waiting for me. For Hamish MacAndrew and Cody.
Rating: T
Disclaimer: The A-team and friend belong to Stephan Cannell & Company. Pete and Remy belong to Avatar.
Interlude
As the team left the area, Murdock hung back a bit, fading into the shadows. The incident had been amusing in its own way, and he wouldn't put it past Face to wind up in the same predicament again. He was about as bad as Remy.
But now he needed some time. Time to think about his discussions earlier, with Colonel Smith. And to decide if he was going to commit not only himself, but his crew to the colonel's plan.
He'd done a bit of investigating of his own, especially Colonel Smith. Not that your own record is that clean, he reminded himself. But it wasn't the "grayness" of the colonel's plans that bothered him. It was more a feeling that if he agreed to this arrangement, there was something-a nebulous, future something-that it would affect.
Scrabbling sounds interrupted his musings. His focus returned to the present, and he glanced around. The garbage cans. Stealthily, he moved toward them. But his approach wasn't quiet enough, as the noise of digging ceased. A low growl issued from the area instead.
"C'mere," Murdock coaxed.
Silence. Another growl, but this one was less certain, with a hint of a whine behind.
"Come on. I won't hurt you."
The whine came again. A soft thump sounded, alternating with a dull metallic clang.
"Here, boy." And if you're a girl, I apologize. "Come on, come here."
The shadows began to resolve. A head, low and submissive, a medium-sized body, and a wagging tail bringing up the rear. The dog's movements were hesitant, and it limped.
Murdock squatted, stretching out his hand. The dog paused, and sniffed. It satout of reach, and eyed him suspiciously.
"Aw, c'mon, boy," Murdock said, "I ain't gonna hurt you." His hand remained steady, palm up. "I'd give you some food, but I don't have any right now."
The tail began swishing, and the animal squirmed. It whined again, flattened itself to the ground, and crawled forward until it was under his hand.
Shifting to one knee, Murdock dropped his hand, near enough for the dog to smell it, and waited. A wet nose pushed into his palm, snuffing around it. He briefly wondered what the dog had been in. Too late now. He reached forward, scratching the animal behind the ears.
A soft moaning sound replaced the whine, the kind of sound a man makes when he drops into his favorite easy chair. The dog nudged closer, shifting the hand further down his neck. Then he rolled, allowing Murdock to scratch his belly. It was a boy.
"Yeah, you like that, don't you," Murdock said. The dog wriggled, begging Murdock to scratch all his itching spots, and the man complied as best he could.
The dog rolled back, and stood, shaking himself. It pushed its face into Murdock's, licking cautiously, its tail wagging hard enough that its rear end moved in time. Murdock reached behind its ears with both hands, rubbing and scratching, and the dog groaned again.
"Whew!" Murdock whistled, "You've been eating garbage." The dog ignored him, engrossed in the scratching. "How'd you like something better? Huh? You want some food?"
It paused-as if to say, did I hear you right?-then yipped loudly.
"Shh," Murdock cautioned, glancing back at the blackened jeep, "We gotta get out of here first." He stood, brushed off the flightsuit, and snugged the field jacket closer. "Come on, boy, let's go find some food."
The dog trotted beside Murdock, occasionally dancing circles around him. Murdock scooped a stick from the ground. "Do you fetch?" he asked. He tossed the stick ahead. "Go get it! Fetch!"
It watched the stick fly, but remained at his side. "Okay, we have to work on that," Murdock told it. He wondered if his crew chief had dogs on the farm of his. Probably. Something had to keep the cows in line besides Cass-even if he did have enough siblings to field a football team.
Once they were in a better lighted area, he inspected the dog. It needed a bath for sure, and he wasn't too sure about that one back leg. Other than that, it just looked skinny and hungry. And lonely.
He glanced around, then coaxed the dog into his quarters long enough to grab a can of Vienna wieners, a towel, and-in lieu of dog shampoo-some soap. Opening the can, he held a wiener out to the dog.
It snapped up the offering. "Hey, those are my fingers!" Murdock protested, snatching those digits from the vicinity of the dog's mouth.
Its tail wagged, begging for more. "C'mon," Murdock said, holding out another wiener, and backing toward the shower area. The dog followed, whining.
He got it into the shower, and turned it on..Too bad these things don't have hoses, he groused. A belated thought occurred, I should've used the parts washer in the maintenance bays.
The dog shook itself, spraying water over him. "I had my shower today," he told it. He tried to rub soap on dog, and it returned the favor. He dug another wiener from the can.
"Murdock?"
He looked around, and the dog shook again. Wiping soap and water from his eyes, he spied Pete standing by the shower entrance. The dog barked, growled, and wriggled, attempting to get to this new person. Murdock grabbed it by the scruff and held on.
"Hey, Pete," he said.
His peter pilot's expression was priceless. Pete looked at them for several moments, processing the thought of his AC washing a dog in the shower. "Is that a dog?" he finally asked.
"He says he is," Murdock replied, wiping wet hair from his forehead.
"Oh."
"You know," Murdock said, calmly, as if it were everyday that he washed dogs in the shower while feeding them Vienna wieners. He offered the dog another. "I think maybe I should've taken him over to the parts washer. That might've worked better."
"The parts washer?" Pete was beginning to wonder if Murdock had finally flipped.
"Yeah," Murdock said, adjusting his grip on the dog. Most of the soap was gone now, and he reached up to turn off the shower. "Hand me that towel, will you?" Then, to the dog, "Hold still."
Pete handed over the requested towel. Murdock started rubbing the dog dry. Luckily, it had a fairly short coat. It whined a bit when he got to that back leg, then licked at his face. "We've only got one towel between us," he told it, "and I told you I had my shower already." He took the last wiener from the can. "That's it," he said, "Now we have to go steal them from Remy."
A smile finally broke on Pete's face. "Good luck," he said.
Fini