Every Thought Captive
Disclaimer: I do not own The A-Team movie or television series or any of the delightful characters found on The A-Team.
Chapter 89 Destroy the Team?
Murdock averted his gaze under Hannibal's scrutiny. "Destroy the team? Explain, Captain. What exactly does that mean?"
Face gripped the arms of the chair he sat in. With barely controlled anger hovering beneath the words, he fumed, "He agreed to take the job Cazador offered him. How else do you think that's going to affect the team, Colonel? He went ahead and took it without thinking about the rest of us."
"Now, that ain' fair! I did so think 'bout th' rest o' ya!" the pilot protested, glaring at his friend.
"That's enough, both of you." The Colonel glanced at each man in turn before taking a seat in the armchair the two children occupied earlier. "What do you have to say about it, Captain?"
"I have my reasons for doin' this, Colonel," Murdock mumbled, keeping his gaze on his hands rather than the accusing glare of his best friend.
"Face, go and check on Miss Allen. See how she's doing." Hannibal's voice was quiet.
"But . . . Hannibal . . . " The pilot sensed desperation in his best friend's tone.
Suddenly Murdock felt very weary. Swallowing back his emotion, he turned his face away from both of them and toward his Woody Woodpecker nightlight.
Least ol' Woody'll be here t' help me adjust t' th' new life here in Arizona. You don' think I'm nuts for takin' th' job, do ya, Woody?
He immediately wondered what kind of crazy man had to have a cartoon character nightlight plugged in to reassure himself that the monsters of his dreams weren't waiting to attack him when he awoke.
Mister Cazador doesn' know 'bout my history at th' VA. Would he wan' me 'round his gran'kids if he did?
"I'll talk to him, Lieutenant. Go and be with Amy." Even though the Colonel spoke barely above a whisper, Murdock still heard it. He was pretty sure Hannibal wasn't happy with his choice now that he knew.
His mind bolted from one thought to another. He wished Billy would talk to him. Billy would know if his decision was the right one. His hands hurt and it was only then he realized how tightly he clenched the quilt while he worried over what the Colonel was going to say.
The door shut with a soft click. Murdock continued to stare at the wall where the woodpecker nightlight glowed and cast a dim red pool of light on the paneling.
He felt a stinging sensation in the corners of his eyes and willed himself not to let the tears fall.
He didn't even know why he felt that way.
When I start workin' for Mister Cazador, he said I'd still get t' be with th' guys when they needed me . . . 'n' they can a'ways come out here 'n' visit . . . 'n' I get t' teach someone how t' fly . . . 'n' I'll be free t' d'cide things on my own . . . 'n' who am I tryin' t' fool? A lot o' what my buddy said was right.
"Captain?" The single word was accompanied by the gentle squeeze of a hand on his forearm.
The tone rather than the touch drew his attention back to the man sitting in the chair beside the bed. He hesitantly glanced at the Colonel. The other man's eyes pierced him and prevented him from looking away again.
"You took the job Cazador offered." Hannibal evidently saw the answer in Murdock's expression because he sighed and leaned back in the armchair. Bringing one hand up to his face, he rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "You won't be leaving with us when we go back to LA."
Murdock couldn't trust the quality of his voice so all he did was shake his head.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Ain' much . . . " The pilot cleared his throat of the small lump clogging it and preventing him from speaking clearly. "Ain' much t' talk 'bout. Some day I had to leave th' VA. Some day I had t' be well 'nough t' be r'leased."
"Are you sure that time has come?"
"You think I'm not ready?" Murdock decided to counter Hannibal's question with a question. He had to know.
Does Hann'bal think I'm sane 'nough t' live out 'mong people?
"I think you're ready when you say you are." The Colonel clasped his hands together and rested his elbows on the chair's arms. "What else? What happened to make you choose this?"
"Mister Cazador's gran'son, Tonio . . . he's eager t' learn . . . 'n' I'm gonna be doin' somethin' I love . . . " Murdock paused, then blurted, "Did ya ever wonder why I was th' one flyin' th' birds 'n' not doin' the stuff on th' groun'? I mean, I did some o' that when I had to but . . . " His words trailed off.
"No. I can't say I ever thought about it. I figured it was something you had a talent for and that's why you did it." As Hannibal said it, Murdock scanned his face for any insincerity and found none. A slight blush crept into his cheeks.
Hann'bal ain' jus' talkin'. He meant it.
"Don' get me wrong. I know we were all soldiers. We saw lots o' dyin', lots o' death, had an enemy that blended in with the folks jus' wantin' peace over there. But bein' soldiers 'n' havin' t' kill 'r be killed can' be eas'ly sep'rated from each other." The pilot went back to studying his fingers. "If I was up in th' air flyin' th' bird, I wasn' at th' doors shootin' 'r on th' groun' takin' a life. If there was anythin' Gramma 'n' Grampa taught me, it was that life was somethin' ya didn' take 'way from nobody 'r nothin' 'less ya couldn' fin' a way outta it."
There. I said it.
"You don't want to go on any more missions with us because there's the possibility you'll have to kill someone?" The confusion in the older man's voice was obvious.
Murdock closed his eyes and shook his head violently. It did nothing to clear his thinking and made his throat and his temple where the recent surgery was performed throb. "No, no! I ain' sayin' that. Th' missions've been somethin' I've been happy t' be part of. We've been helpin' lots o' folks 'n' it's been excitin'. B'lieve me, when th' most excitin' thing that happens where ya live is when a guy down th' hall says he's Napoleon 'n' d'mands t' talk t' th' President 'bout invadin' Russia . . . " He plastered a weak smile on his face and looked at Hannibal again. "Well, th' missions kept me from goin' completely nuts."
"So you still want to be called on when there's something we need to do? Even if some time you might have to kill someone?"
Anger reared up inside the pilot with Hannibal's last question. He wasn't sure where it came from but it was there.
"I . . . ain' a . . . coward, Colonel. Ya oughta know that by now." He tried to keep his words steady even though each one seemed like a spear intended to injure someone.
"Killing someone doesn't make you a hero just like not killing someone doesn't make you a coward. And, yes, I do know you well enough to say you are one of the bravest men I've ever had a privilege to serve with." There was weariness in Hannibal's voice and the pilot realized the years of war gave Hannibal plenty of bad memories he lived with daily.
Jus' like me . . . 'cept mine don' ever go 'way 'n' th' docs keep squeezin' 'em outta me, hopin' they're gonna 'fix' me if they get 'em all.
"I jus' need t' prove t' myself 'n' t' you guys I can make it on th' outside. I don' wanna be r'minded every time I turn 'round that I was a soldier."
But I'm talkin' t' th' wrong guy 'bout that. Hann'bal ain' ever gonna be anythin' else 'cept a soldier.
Hannibal was nodding slowly, a frown furrowing his brow.
Murdock could tell he didn't understand. Tracing circles with his forefinger on the quilt covering him, he tried to make his confused thoughts gel into some kind of logical argument. "I was a pilot b'fore I was a soldier. Back when I lived in Texas, when I was jus' a teen, I did some crop dustin'. That's what gave me my start in flyin', that 'n' an ol' friend of my Grampa who gave me rides in his li'l crop dustin' plane when I was a kid."
"And you've put that experience to good use, and not only during the war. Whenever we've needed a pilot for a mission, you've been there." Hannibal's statement was almost a question: Isn't that enough?
The pilot bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from yelling No! It ain' 'nough! If I could, I'd fly every single day. I b'long in th' sky, not earthbound.
"I had someone back there . . . in Texas . . . I promised t' marry." He noticed Hannibal's surprised look and added quickly, "Don' know if she's still waitin' for me. Prob'ly not." He took a breath and let it out slowly. "Thing is, I was s'posed t' come home in one piece. I was s'posed t' marry th' girl o' my dreams 'n' raise a fam'ly. We both know what siderailed that li'l plan."
Hannibal remained silent.
"Maybe . . . maybe once I've been out o' th' VA for a few months, I'll ask Mister Cazador if I can try 'n' see if Cyndy's still waitin'. By then I'll know if I'm jus' gonna be complicatin' her life with my . . . problems." The last word was difficult to push past the lump in his throat that had returned and grown even larger.
Murdock swallowed again and thought of something else, forced his mind to go somewhere other than remembering Cyndy and how much they had loved each other before the war. "So ya said ya saw the MPs take Jackson 'way in cuffs?"
The Colonel gave a curt nod. "He didn't put up much of a struggle. Whatever you planted in his mind must have worked. He seemed to believe he was the only one responsible for those weapons being there."
"When Jackson's hauled up t' be court-martialed, I wanna be there."
Hannibal narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure you want to do that?"
"I have to," Murdock said. "I wanna be sure th' fake mem'ries I planted in 'im are th' ones he tells them. You guys can' take me t' see 'im on trial. Ya might be seen. 'N' if I was still at the VA, I wouldn' be able t' go either. They wouldn' know th' connection b'tween Jackson 'n' me 'n' even if they did, they wouldn' think it was in my best interests. I'm hopin' Mister Cazador sees to it I get there for it."
The Colonel looked at him for so long Murdock knew he was trying to frame an argument against working for Cazador and going to watch Jackson be court-martialed. Finally, he shook his head in weary resignation.
"Cazador tells me we should wait here for a week or so until the military finishes their business at the cave. I would rather not be escaping from Lynch and his men with Amy and Face both injured."
Murdock noted Hannibal did not mention his own need to recover from surgery and his injuries.
B'cause he knows I ain' goin' with 'em this time. He's accepted it.
The pilot grimaced at the finality of the thought.
"If you change your mind during that time . . . " Hannibal let the statement remain unfinished.
"I won', Colonel. I promised Mister Cazador and I'm . . . I'm a man o' my word." Murdock closed his eyes, if just to shut out the Colonel's grim expression. "'N' I'll make sure Faceman, B. A. 'n' Amy know I'm stayin'. Save ya th' trouble."
"Good. It'll be better coming from you." Hannibal stood and glanced toward the door. "I should let you get some more rest."
Simple as that? No more discussion? Ooooookay . . .
The Colonel walked toward the door with a little heavier tread than Murdock saw him take in a long time. Murdock felt the full weight of remorse in his heart.
"Colonel . . . sir . . . there's no hard feelin's 'bout this? Are there?" The pilot hesitated, then threw off the bed covers to intercept his CO when there was no immediate answer.
Hannibal paused at the door, his hand on the knob. Murdock knew the Colonel let his military training dictate his response when he drew himself to full height and turned to face him. His expression was unreadable. "You have to do what you have to do. There's no hard feelings. If you'll excuse me, I need to check in with B. A."
The words sounded so formal, too much like a dismissal. Murdock almost wondered if this was Hannibal's way of giving him an honorable discharge from the unit. He swung his legs out of bed in a hurry and pushed himself to his feet.
"Colonel?" His head pounded from the sudden movement and dizziness threatened to topple him. He used the mattress for support but stayed on his feet.
It can' end this way. I can still help my team. I know I can.
Hannibal's gaze softened as he noted Murdock dizzily swaying on his feet, ready to prevent him from leaving the room if he had to. "We have two weeks to talk about how this will affect our missions. It won't destroy the team. We just have to be . . . creative . . . and work around your new job."
Any further words caught in Murdock's throat as he watched Hannibal open the door.
Pausing again on the threshold, the older man smiled faintly. "Climb into bed and rest, son. I'll be back later."
As the door closed behind the Colonel, Murdock sagged and sat down heavily on the bed. He sat for several minutes thinking about their conversation, trying to remember everything that had been said.
Hannibal's last order was to get back into bed. Reluctantly, Murdock obeyed, pulling the quilt up to his chest and squeezing his eyes shut against the crushing loneliness that enveloped him.