Hannibal was still asleep as Stella and Murdock emerged from the bunker, but Face was half-aware.
"Hey. You found him," he croaked, sitting up slowly.
Murdock went to him. "Yeah. I got found. B.A.'s still real sick, Facey, so he's gotta get to a—"
He looked over to Stella for the proper word.
"A clinic," she supplied.
"A clinic," Murdock finished.
Face nodded. "I can help . . ."
Murdock shook his head and held him in place while Stella told them she was going to get Angel and Mrs. Baracus and get the van prepared. She left the two men talking quietly.
Angel insisted on helping support B.A. as they moved him through the house. Murdock didn't have the energy to argue that her petite frame couldn't hold up 220 pounds of sickness. Mrs. Baracus did, however, and shooed the girl away, telling her she'd help best by opening the doors and encouraging her son to keep moving.
Murdock still looked slightly skeptical that the older woman would be much help either, but when they both worked together, he found that B.A.'s mother could bear her share of the weight.
They got him to his van again, and eased him into the back. Angel crawled in beside him to cradle his head, and his mother started for the passenger seat. Before she got too far, however, Murdock stopped her as he handed Stella the keys.
"Here," he told them both, thrusting an envelope at them.
Stella set her mouth into a line, but Mrs. Baracus accepted it.
"I didn't want to wake Hannibal, but Face and I talked it over. This is all the cash we have," Murdock explained. "Use it for Bosco's medical care."
"No," Stella said immediately.
"Stella, we talked about it," he replied. "Take this money and use it."
"It's not necessary," she insisted.
"Stella, my boy needs help—"
"Yes, Irene, but taking all the money they have isn't going to make a difference," Stella replied. "This doctor . . . he's a . . . friend of mine. I don't think he'll—"
"Just in case? Please, Stella," Murdock pleaded.
Confronted with two people who wanted to give away everything the team had, she relented.
"We'll take it with us," Stella sighed. Murdock nodded, pleased, even as she continued, "and we'll bring it back!"
The pilot smiled dismissively, gave each woman a hug and blew a kiss to Angel before closing the rear doors of the van. He opened the garage door for them and shut it behind them with a quick wave.
He was waiting for Stella when she returned to her house. She walked in to him putting the final touches on a light meal for her.
"How's Bosco?" he asked immediately.
"He's got a pretty nasty pneumonia," she replied tiredly. "Blake—Dr. Tucker took some x-rays and set him up with IV fluids and some IV meds. He'd like to see John and Temp too, to make sure they don't need anything stronger either."
Murdock led her to the table and set a plate in front of her.
"How was everything?" she asked. He didn't need her to expound on the question.
"Good," he replied. "They both ate. I wasn't sure what meds they were due for, so I left that for you."
She nodded. "Okay."
Although Murdock seemed much more with her, there was still an air of subtle agitation around him. It seemed hard for him to sit still.
"Thank you for dinner," Stella said, figuring that was a safe subject to start with. "Did you eat?"
He gave her an odd twitch, half nod, half shake.
"Remember you can tell me what's . . . wrong, Murdock," she said gently. "I'm not a psychiatrist, and I know they told you they just want to help. But I just want to help too, and I really mean it. I'm not going to judge you."
He managed a nod, accompanied by a frown.
Stella let him decide, and continued eating.
Finally, after fidgeting and opening his mouth several times like he was going to say something but then closing it again, Murdock said, "I . . . want to know . . ."
Stella waited.
"Ugh! Hannibal's better at this than me!" he exclaimed suddenly. "I'm a Captain! I've had men under my command before! I can do this! But Hannibal's a Colonel—he's just got this aura around him, you know? People obey him because he expects them to obey! And I can do it, I have done it, but it's just . . ."
Stella put down her fork and stretched her hand to him, palm up. Murdock looked at the offering, then up at her, and sighed as he put his hand in hers.
"You don't have to explain anything, Murdock," she told him. "I understand."
She did. John was stereotypical alpha-male, as were B.A. and Face. Not that Murdock wasn't, men didn't become Army Rangers—let alone pilots—by not being driven and smart and competitive. But Murdock being Murdock, there were facets to his personality that allowed him to accede more easily to other men's leadership without feeling threatened.
Murdock watched her carefully and apprehensively, trying to determine if she was just saying she understood to placate him, or if she truly meant it. He couldn't decide.
Forcefully he told her, "This isn't about me. I just need to know what Hannibal would need to know . . . is this doctor friend of yours trustworthy? Is he going to report us?"
Stella was honestly surprised at his question. She hadn't considered that was his line of thinking.
"Hannibal deals with this," he continued miserably. "He's the one making sure that we stay under the radar. But now, with all this . . . things have happened that he wouldn't want to have happen. What's that going to mean? How that's going to play out? What if—"
"Murdock!" Stella interrupted him sharply.
He stopped and looked at her liked he'd been kicked.
She took a breath and squeezed his hand. "It'll be fine. Just fine. I know all about John's . . . well, I suppose naming it makes it less scary, right? His paranoia. His head's so wrapped up in keeping you boys free that it can be paralyzing."
Murdock was nodding very minutely, as if agreeing too freely would be treason against his Colonel.
"John trusts you, Murdock. Have you ever known him to rely on someone who didn't deserve it?"
Yes, once, Murdock thought to himself, and that ended up with them in maximum security prisons and me in a German loony bin.
But he knew what Stella was trying to say, and didn't contradict her. She had continued.
"He trusts you with his life. You know that. He's not going to be upset about any decisions made when he was so sick he literally couldn't do anything for himself."
Stella watched him for a moment and wondered if what she was telling him was making any difference. Eventually she decided that thirty seconds of reassurance wasn't going to make any miraculous turn-about in Murdock's splintered psyche, so she opted to answer the question he poised at first.
"Dr. Tucker isn't going to turn you in, Murdock," she told him honestly. "I've known Blake for lots of years. He's a good man. I asked him to be discreet, and I truly believe he will be."
This information was easier for Murdock to process, and he nodded more strongly this time.
"Okay."
"Would it help, later, if I told John I was the one who forced you to agree to all these decisions?" Stella asked lightly. She was smiling, and Murdock relaxed at the teasing.
"I'm a Ranger, baby," he said importantly. "I have been highly trained by the top military minds in the United States Army to withstand extreme conditions, combat stress, weapons' malfunction, and food that's worse than what they can legally feed dogs. I can handle the consequences of my actions! But . . . maybe you could walk point and tell Hannibal it was all you?"
Stella laughed so hard it made him laugh too. It woke the two men still in her living room, and they left her unfinished dinner on the table to attend to them.