Wow, I was tired when I wrote this.
Thanks to those who stopped to review, and to those who read anonymously. This chapter is a bit longer. Some swearing.
XXX
Da Nang, June 1969
His long, gently tapering fingers trailed slowly over her luscious curves. His mouth was dry, his breath ragged, as he transmitted his utter adoration through the languid sweep of his hand. This moment eclipsed all others. He'd only felt a twinge of pride when he made Captain last week, an acknowledgment for his valorous and acrobatic flight near Dong Ap Bia.
Murdock didn't consider it worth noting, as he hadn't managed to avoid the SAM that took out the tail rotor. He'd managed to land the chopper in dense brush with a touch so deft and delicate, that it seemed too intentional to be a crash - but a crash it was. Nor was he aware at the time that his passenger was part of a Special Forces Alpha Team. Ensuring that man's survival punched Murdock's ticket to captaincy. Lieutenant Peck, the passenger in question, escaped the ordeal with a few bruises and a laceration to his bicep. Murdock suffered a modest head wound when his temple connected with the roof of the chopper on impact. Any scarring would be minimal, according to the doctors at the 95th Evac. Truthfully, he now suffered daily headaches that bloomed white-hot behind his eyes. Any mention of that would keep him out of the air, and he offered no complaint.
None of that mattered now.
"Oh baby," he whispered reverently. He leaned in slowly and felt an electric pulse as his lips connected with her cool, dark skin.
"Captain Murdock?"
"Mmmm…" Murdock muttered softly, completely lost.
Colonel Barrett cleared his throat, uncertain what to make of the scene that greeted him.
"Captain!" the colonel said with force. The tall pilot leapt back from the gleaming, black Huey. He held out a sealed parcel. "For delivery to Nha Trang."
Murdock managed an awkward salute, his thin cheeks blazing.
"Yes sir."
"Your passengers should arrive shortly. Two for Nha Trang, three for Buon Ma Thuot." He passed him a sealed envelope marked 'Top Secret'. "Open that after your run to Buon Ma Thuot," the colonel glanced from the brand-new Huey to the embarrassed pilot. "As you were Captain," he said, turned on his heel and left.
Murdock watched as the colonel left the airfield, and slapped his face smartly with his open palm. New captain's bars, check. New Huey, check. Awkward moment with said Huey witnessed by CO, check.
"Pretty bird," a familiar quiet voice crept into his ear.
The lanky pilot turned, nearly stumbling into a tall, shapely redhead. He glanced at the name on her shirt – 'Cross'. For her part, Private Cross looked just as puzzled.
Lieutenant Dixon stepped out from behind the taller woman and smiled. "You're looking much better," she added. She tipped her head up to get a better look at the pink scar near his temple.
Murdock's face split in an enormous grin, partially out of relief that he wasn't hearing Lieutenant Dixon's voice in another person's body. She looked less grave, less sweaty than she had been in those hours spent tending his wound in hospital. He adjusted his cap, tucking a few wisps of ash brown hair behind his ears as he did so.
"Why Lieutenant Dixon," he said with a strangely formal bow. "Are you here solely to gaze in rapturous wonder at my new baby?" he patted the Huey.
Dixon handed Murdock a folded sheet of paper. "Private Cross and I are headed for Nha Trang. We're doing combat triage drills with some South Vietnamese nurses. Three weeks. Should be fun."
Murdock scanned the paperwork, tipping the briefest nod of acknowledgment to Private Cross.
"In that case senoritas," he drawled "your chariot awaits."
Dixon followed Cross into the cabin and stowed her bag. She moved to sit but was stayed by Murdock's hand.
"You might find," he added with a click of his tongue and a jerk of his thumb "that you'll enjoy the view up front." He gave her a little nudge into the co-pilot's seat and turned from the cabin to await the three passengers bound for Buon Ma Thuot. It was a short wait.
xxx
Lieutenant Colonel John Smith popped a match alight and took a long pull of his cigar. He could hear the heavy step of Sergeant Baracus behind him and could smell Lieutenant Peck's Juicy Fruit gum. He took stock of the chopper pilot as he made his final preparations. The boy was tall, somewhere around 6'4", and had a lean, manic look. He had a strong profile dominated by a finely sculpted, slightly hooked nose. Smith, of course, had full intel on Captain Murdock, coupled with Lieutenant Peck's harrowing tale of the Dong Ap Bia incident. Indeed, the young captain's record was peppered with reports of his daring, his fearlessness in the air. He was just the sort of kid Smith could find a use for. He cleared his throat.
"Cap'n Murdock?" he said, and grinned as the boy turned, his brown eyes wide. "Three for Buon Ma Thuot, please."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Lieutenant Peck said, coming to stand beside Colonel Smith. "That's the guy!"
Sergeant Baracus appeared Smith's other side and folded his arms. "What guy Face?" he said, feeling bellicose.
"That crazy fucking fool who crash-"
"What? Crashed? No way Hannibal! I'm not getting in no chopper with that fool!" the sergeant informed Smith, with as much respect as he could muster.
"Face, BA – easy." Hannibal held up a hand to quell his disgruntled teammates.
Murdock sniffed indignantly. "It was only a tiny crash." He held up his thumb and forefinger with a flourish, the two digits nearly touching.
"Tiny?" Face said. "We could have died! Fuckin-"
"Face. Don't be sayin' 'fuck' in front of no ladies." BA said, nodding towards the young nurses who were now peering out of the Huey, wide-eyed.
In the space of a breath, Face's entire person transformed. His lips parted and he offered the girls a smile, his blue eyes crackling. He walked towards the open cabin of the chopper with the easy gait of a predator. He nodded politely at Lieutenant Dixon, recognizing her from his short stay at the hospital, and then turned the full force of his charm on the fetching Private Cross.
"Well hi honey," he said to the pretty redhead. "You must be new in country – I surely wouldn't have overlooked such a diamond in the dust." He tipped her a subtle wink. "So what can I call you, Private Cross?"
Private Cross was slain. When she remembered how to speak, she replied in what she desperately hoped was a sultry tone:
"Barbara Cross, my friends call me Bambi."
"Is that so?" Face said, lifting his perfectly sculpted brows as he stowed his bag and settled in next to her. "Are we friends?"
Hannibal watched the exchange, amused. He turned and gave BA a shove towards the Huey and nodded at Murdock.
"Whenever you're ready, Captain."
xxx
Fortunately for all concerned, the liftoff was smooth, and soon Murdock was speeding through a bright blue afternoon sky. He ignored the occasional moan from the massive sergeant, and tuned out the ridiculous banter between Face and the woefully silly Private Cross. He could feel Colonel Smith's eyes measuring him, and so busied himself by babbling to Lieutenant Dixon.
The flight was relatively uneventful, but he couldn't resist taking the bird over the water, skimming so close to the surface, that he could see a pod of dolphins leaping just ahead of the Huey. Dixon, who had listened patiently to his tangential conversation, gasped at the sight of the creatures. Murdock felt his heart clench unexpectedly at the sound of her delight and her slow easy smile. She'd revealed very little about herself during their conversation. She was from Iowa and had always wanted to be a nurse. He found himself wanting to know more, but was unwilling to pry. Murdock allowed himself the momentary indulgence of studying her face, which was more pixie-like when contrasted to the drowsy beauty of Private Cross. He felt a prick of disappointment when the skids touched down at Nha Trang.
Face was the first to exit the cabin, snaking an arm around Cross's waist, ostensibly to help her take the short step to solid ground. Murdock exited the cockpit and fetched the bags. Pointedly ignoring the impromptu canoodling between Face and Cross, he handed Dixon her pack.
Dixon's ponytails fluttered like streamers in the brisk breeze that skidded across the airfield. She offered her hand to Captain Murdock, who swallowed it with his own and shook in a very gentlemanly fashion.
"Lieutenant Dixon," he said, "If one were to know you off duty – what would one call you?"
Dixon raised a single brow and crinkled her freckled nose. "One would call me Katie," she replied serenely.
"Katie," he repeated. "We'll always have Da Nang." Murdock drew a finger under her chin and then tapped her nose gently. "Here's lookin' at you, kid." He abruptly skipped away, and with an elaborate arabesque, dove into the cockpit.
Bambi, who by that time had been pried apart from Face by a somewhat impatient Hannibal, stood next to Katie as she watched the Huey lift off.
"What was that about?" the redhead asked, shouldering her bag.
"Florence Nightingale syndrome," Katie answered, her eyes following the bird as it flew west and toward a bank of gray storm clouds. "It comes with the territory."
xxx
Rain bucketed down by the time Murdock landed at the rendezvous point for Smith's Alpha Team. Face and a decidedly airsick BA grabbed their bags and climbed out of the cabin without so much as a farewell. It was their commander, the man they called Hannibal, who offered his hand to Murdock.
"You're some pilot, kid," Hannibal said, lighting a cigar. His light blue eyes sparked beneath salt and pepper brows. "I'd love to have you workin' for me."
Murdock shook his hand. He liked Smith for no reason in particular. "I'm already spoken for, colonel." The letter proving it was in the pocket of his flight jacket, waiting to be opened.
"I'll get you yet," Hannibal said confidently and jumped out of the cabin to join the eleven men waiting near a foxhole.
Murdock watched the colonel momentarily and then fished the letter from his pocket, breaking the seal with trembling fingers. He could see the CIA letterhead before he unfolded the single page. His wide brown eyes darted rapidly as he read. Despite the steamy, early summer heat, his skin prickled.
He produced a lighter and set the note ablaze.
"Operation Wonderland," he said softly, now more certain than ever that he was in over his head.
XXX
Bleh! Thanks to those of you who made it through this clunky chapter. ^_^