Keeper of the Truth
Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.
Chapter 29
"Murdock thinks he's got blood on him. Where did he get that idea? Was it something he saw on this 'mission' or is he seeing something from his past?" Richter tightened his grip on the receiver, realizing not even Peck, Murdock's best friend, could read the man's mind. But maybe he had an idea of what the pilot had meant.
"We had to create a diversion. People were injured besides Hannibal. Murdock didn't get any blood on him so this must be some kind of flashback."
Am I mistaken or does he know more about Murdock's delusion than he's telling?
"But he knew the other people who were injured? He had become friends with them?"
If he thought he had found the path to inner peace and Smith's plan resulted in people getting hurt . . .
"The injuries were unintentional," Peck continued, his tone both defensive and guilt-ridden. Then, "We try very hard not to hurt or kill civilians, Doctor."
Civilians? Interesting choice of words. Have these men ever stopped fighting in the war?
"Please help him, Doc."
Richter sensed the emotional pain of the man on the other end of the phone call.
"I will try. This has been a major setback to his treatment. For the next few weeks, I'm not sure any of you should be in contact with him. At all. Let us work with him. Call me in a few days and I'll let you know if there's progress."
"If that's what he needs to get well. Thank you, Doc." Peck sounded tired and unhappy with the way things had turned out.
With a dull feeling of failure Richter ended the conversation.
The Lieutenant's words nagged at the doctor.
Murdock was brainwashed. He joined a group, formed a close attachment to someone who promised release from the worst memories of his past. That person is dead, murdered. Others were injured because of Smith and the execution of his plan. How would Murdock have felt? Deceived? Like there was no hope left? Suicidal?
It was obvious that his patient relapsed during the mission. He returned to the bathroom where Murdock was being bathed, having the blood he thought he saw cleansed from his body.
At least now he knew more about what might have prompted the mental state to which his patient had regressed.
oooooo
"And now we let Schreiker know we have his file?" Face attempted to forget about what kind of treatment Murdock might have to endure. It was difficult but they had to complete the mission and that meant calling their client and delivering the information to him.
Though I'm tempted to take a lighter to it and give him the ashes in a little urn for what this did to my buddy.
"He'll know we were there at the Keepers' compound. He'll see it on TV," Hannibal muttered and winced as B. A. cleansed his shoulder wound with a gauze pad soaked with antiseptic.
Despite his lingering resentment, Face noted how pallid Hannibal appeared and how angry red the stitched entry wound was.
The exit wound is probably just as bad.
"He'll be expecting us to call him," the older man lying on the bed emphasized, flinching again as the gauze accidentally pulled at one of the stitches.
The con man knew all that. But with his leader in the condition he was, there was no way he was going to be able to meet with their client and say the things that needed to be said.
Like asking if Schreiker forgot he left a wife and son back at that compound when he called us in to do this job.
"You ain't goin' nowhere, Colonel. Faceman an' me, we'll do it." B. A. scowled at his patient, then glanced over to see the con man nod in agreement.
Hannibal scrubbed his face with one hand. "You know Schreiker isn't going to like what you give him." He sighed when B. A. crossed his arms, a warning that he wasn't going to listen to argument. "At least make sure he pays you first. Everything we agreed on."
"Oh, we'll make sure. With all we went through to get this, he'd better pay up." The con man grabbed the file and riffled through it once more before angrily tossing it back on the table. He was still thinking about Murdock and how he looked when they found him in the motel bathroom under the icy cold shower.
As if reading his mind, the Colonel murmured, "He'll be alright, Face. Between Richter and Miss Scalatini, they'll figure out how to help him."
"Well, the good doctor told me we have to stay away for a few days. No contact." The Lieutenant ran a hand over his disheveled hair, somewhat smoothing it back into place.
"He's in good hands. We have to finish what we started," the injured man argued, sucking in another breath as B. A. checked the gash on his head.
Face glared at Hannibal as he picked up the phone to call their client. "I'll set up the meet with Schreiker. Anything you want to tell him that you know I won't, Colonel?"
"You can't tell him what I think and expect to be paid." After a few more moments of thought, Hannibal added, "Tell him we should have charged him more. Much more."
oooooo
"Đi . . . đi . . . đi . . . "
Richter heard the raspy voice even before he opened the door. It was increasing in volume. Which meant the person saying that single foreign word was beginning to panic.
What now?
Opening the door, the doctor assessed the scene with a mixture of shock and amusement. Beside the bathtub was a puddle of soapy water. Jackson stood in the farthest corner, his head and upper torso wet and dripping.
Murdock knelt in the tub, hurling handfuls of bubbles and water at him and saying that word over and over again. His eyes reflected fear and desperation.
"Stop that, Murdock!" the orderly commanded without success.
Nurse Sullivan squatted beside the tub, globs of foam in her hair, trying to calm the pilot down. Her words, spoken too softly for either Richter or Jackson to hear, seemed to have little effect. She touched Murdock on his bare shoulder but he swatted her hand away and continued his splashing.
"Đi . . . đi . . . Tôi sẽ không đi với bạn . . . "
The doctor hurriedly shut the door behind him. Noticing the nurse swallow once and try again, he wondered if she was attempting to simply gain control over the situation or something else was guiding her words and actions.
It's not the first time I've seen her react this way to him.
Making a mental note to find time to talk to her later, he sidestepped the puddle. For now, he ignored the water and bubbles that sprayed his pants as the pilot flung another cupped handful of bathwater toward the orderly.
"That's enough, Murdock!" Jackson snarled.
Richter wasn't sure what had happened to create the mayhem and wasn't sure he wanted to know. "I'm back, Murdock. I'm back," he soothed, nodding to Jackson that he was free to leave. The orderly scowled at the man in the bath tub.
"He got me in a headlock when I reached to turn off the taps and pushed me under. I think he was trying to drown me."
"What did you do to make him respond that way?" Richter asked.
I'm pretty sure he did nothing. But I have to ask.
Jackson narrowed his eyes as he backed out of the door. "Helped Sullivan get his clothes off and assisted to get him into the tub. Like you ordered. Ask her." With one last scorching look at the wild-eyed man in the tub, the orderly muttered, "I'll go get a mop."
"Wait until he's back in his room before you clean up in here," Richter responded, his focus on his patient who was about to send another volley of bathwater toward the door.
"Yes sir," Jackson replied, obvious relief in his answer.
When the door was closed, Murdock, still kneeling, curled his upper body over his legs, his hands clutching the sides of his head, his eyes squeezed shut.
"Nurse Sullivan will help you get clean now, Murdock," Richter breathed. The pilot didn't react but continued to block out sights and sounds around him. The doctor glanced at Sullivan, noting her unhappy expression as she reached for soap and a washcloth and began to gently lather the pilot's back. As she did, Murdock relaxed slightly though his body still trembled a little under her touch.
"I'm sorry, Sullivan, but the only ones he seems to respond positively to is you and me. He doesn't trust anyone else. Until he does, we'll have to take turns watching him." Except for a small pause in what she was doing, the nurse didn't say anything. "How would you like to earn some overtime this month?"
"I'll do whatever is needed for him to get better, doctor," the nurse finally said.
oooooo
"Đi . . . đi . . . Tôi sẽ không đi với bạn . . . " - Vietnamese for "Go . . . go . . . I will not go with you . . . "