CHAPTER ONE

April 17, 1985

"Come on, Hannibal, I really like this girl." Murdock sounded suspiciously close to begging. "I been seein' her two months now an' I only get to see her during visiting hours or when I can sneak out, but I always got to get back before morning."

Hannibal appeared to be ignoring every word, throwing more supplies into the back of the van - blankets and camp stoves and kerosene lanterns and all the things Face had assured them would absolutely not be necessary for this particular "camping" trip. Murdock followed on Hannibal's heels like an overly energetic puppy. "She comes out twice a week to the hospital and it's a hundred-mile drive for her! I promised her we'd spend some time together this weekend and it's just a perfect opportunity. Come on, it's not like she'll get in the way."

Leaning against the side of the van, Face watched with amusement, arms crossed loosely. "Maybe you should try getting down on your knees, Murdock," he suggested with a slight smirk.

Murdock took the advice, ignoring the sarcasm, and dropped to his knees, crawling behind Hannibal with hands clasped in front of him. "Pleeease? Please please please..."

As if suddenly realizing he hadn't actually delivered a verdict he'd made twenty minutes ago, Hannibal shrugged. "Doesn't make any difference to me, Murdock."

The offhanded, casual tone of the response didn't detract from the younger man's joy as he sprang back up. "Aw, man, this is gon' be great!" He hurried to the front seat of the van, passing Face without so much as a glance.

Behind him, Face chuckled quietly. "I think he's really got it in for this girl, Hannibal."

Murdock couldn't hear the response, but wasn't really listening. Instead, he focused intently on the sound of the ringing phone, waiting for the love of his life to answer. Thankfully, it only took three rings. "Hello?"

His smile broadened a little at the sound of her voice, and he rested his head back on the passenger seat, eyes closed. "Morning, pretty lady," he greeted in his warmest, smoothest voice, masking the excitement that was threatening to bubble over. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No," she answered. He could hear the smile, and it made him smile, too. "I've been up. How are you?"

"I'm great. Hey, listen." He opened his eyes and sat forward a little, unable to contain the energy any longer. "You remember how I said to keep the weekend open? That I was gon' come and spend some time with you?"

"Yeah..." The way she led him with that hopeful tone made his smile broaden until it spread across his whole face.

"Friend of mine got this great little cabin way up in the mountains in Colorado." He glanced back, along the side of the van where Face had been standing, but had now moved on. "We're gon' go up an' spend a few days. You wanna come?"

She only hesitated for the briefest of seconds, but it still felt like too long. "When are you leaving?" she asked.

Practically bouncing on the springs of the passenger seat, he replied enthusiastically, "I'll pick you up in an hour!"

Her tight laugh was not really the response he'd been hoping for. "An hour?" she repeated uneasily. "I have appointments this afternoon. I can't just -"

"Come on, Kelly, I really wanna see you." That same pleading tone was just a little bit softer with her than with Hannibal. "Wouldn't it be great just to get away for a few days? Way up in the mountains with no civilization for miles?"

She sighed audibly, readying another protest, and he decided it would be best to cut her off with his biggest and best, "Please?" Thankfully, he'd been practicing on Hannibal so he was all warmed up.

She hesitated, not answering right away, and he smiled, knowing he'd won. "Okay," she finally agreed. "I'll see if I can get Leanne to come in a little early. She was going to take care of things for me this weekend so..."

"Great!" Murdock cried. Glancing to the side, he saw Fact perched in the open doorway with one hand up against the top of the frame and the other on his hip.

"I'll see you in an hour," Kelly finished.

"Okay. I love you."

Face's smirk warned Murdock that as soon as he hung up this phone, he was going to be harassed for the choice of words. He didn't mind, particularly. At least he could say with absolute certainty it was worth it.

"I love you, too," she answered sweetly, and he knew he was beaming as he hung up the phone.

Face didn't even wait for him to pull his hand away from it. "Love you?" he challenged with a grin. "You're not getting serious about this girl, are you?"

He stepped back as Murdock pushed his way out of the van, still grinning from ear to ear. "I told you, Faceman, I really like her. A whole lot."

"Kelly, right?" Face followed a few steps behind as Murdock walked to the back of the van. "That girl the bounty hunters went after?"

"Actually, they were after me," Murdock corrected. He paused, and spun around, head tipped back as he considered. "No, come to think of it, they were after you."

"Sure you won't come with us, Face?" Hannibal interrupted, glancing up as BA emerged from the apartment carrying one last backpack.

Face gave a look that was both amused by the question and disgusted by the prospect, as if someone had just asked him if he'd like to shave his head and dye his eyebrows purple. "Are you nuts?" he asked tactfully.

Murdock grinned, but had no opportunity to reply before Face passed him a warning glare and clarified his response. "Camping is not exactly my idea of a good time."

"It's not really camping," Hannibal pointed out, closing up the doors and heading for the front passenger seat. "It's a cabin. Camping requires tents."

"I'll stay here, thanks." Face waved off the offer the way he would have dismissed a bottle of cheap wine - with an arrogant smile. "You all have a great time. I'll be sipping champagne in an air-conditioned penthouse suite with Martha."

"Let's go!" BA ordered, trudging a path right between Face and Murdock. "I wanna get there by dark!"

He opened the doors Hannibal had just shut, and took a startled step back as an avalanche of bags and clothes and fishing gear nearly toppled out. Reacting quickly, he slammed the doors shut again and grumbled as he took his own backpack with him to the front of the van.

"We've got to make a stop first," Hannibal mentioned, pausing to light a cigar as BA climbed in. With a wave to Face, Murdock joined them, sliding the side panel of the van closed and dodging the backpack BA tossed haphazardly into the seat normally occupied by Face.

Clearly impatient, BA growled under his breath. "What for?"

"To pick up Murdock's girlfriend," Hannibal answered with a grin.

BA looked up suddenly, wide-eyed. "Murdock's what?"

If Murdock hadn't been on cloud nine, he might have almost been offended by BA's shock.

*X*X*X*

"You better make this quick, fool!" BA snapped as he pulled the van to a halt in front of the plain looking white house with the rust colored shingles and surprisingly tall chimney on top. "I wanna get there before dark. I don't like drivin' my van in the mountains in the dark."

Murdock didn't acknowledge the impatient tone, already vaulting out the side of the van. He jogged to the wide porch, smiling to himself at the bullet fragments embedded in the shingles - evidence of their first visit to the property. Taking the steps two at a time, he bounded toward the door and smiled as it opened before he had a chance to knock. But he didn't miss a beat, stepping over the threshold and sweeping the auburn-haired woman into his arms. A squeak of surprise escaped her lips as he twirled her around, feet flailing behind her in an instinctive attempt to counterbalance.

"Murdock!" She laughed as he set her back down in the living room. "My gosh, I don't think I've ever seen you in such a good mood!"

"Oh, I'm in a great mood, baby." He smiled, taking her face in both hands and kissing her soundly. "Where's your stuff? This is gon' be great!"

"It's right over there." Still smiling, she push her hair back before pointing in the direction of the sofa.

He practically skipped over to the suitcase and neatly rolled sleeping bag. "Man, I used to love camping as a kid," he rambled excitedly. "All that fresh air and sunshine... Hardly ever get to do stuff like that anymore. Think the last time we did anything even remotely like camping we ended up dealin' with these crazy bank robber types who robbed an armored car. And then the park rangers called the military police 'cause they recognized us and we had to cut our whole vacation down to a single day just 'cause it was gettin' waaaaaaay too crowded in those woods. But this time..." He stopped so suddenly - turning to her with a big smile - that she almost ran right into him. With one hand, he picked up the suitcase and with the other, he circled her waist, pulling her close.

"This time, it's not gon' be like that 'cause this time it's just gon' be fun and enjoyable... and relaxing..." His words started to trail off as his thoughts wandered. "Quiet... romantic..." She smiled, eyes sliding closed as he leaned closer and brushed her lips lightly. "We get to spend the whole weekend together without havin' to worry who's listenin' to us talk or how long we got 'fore I gotta get back..." The slow, intimate kiss seemed to make the whole world stop, and she melted into his arms. "And I get to make love to you under the stars and wake up with you in my arms when the sun comes up."

She sighed deeply, opening her eyes slowly and lazily. "Sounds like heaven," she admitted.

"Come on, let's go!" His energy returned so suddenly, he almost pulled her off her feet. She only just managed to snag the sleeping bag before stumbling behind him.

He paused just long enough to let her lock the front door, then ran to the van, still idling in the driveway with the side door open. A bit less willing to sprint for the vehicle, it took her a few seconds more before she paused, peered into the van, and tossed the sleeping bag inside next to the suitcase already neatly deposited between the two back seats. Murdock stood behind her with a steadying hand on the small of her back as she stepped up, and the moment she sat down, Hannibal turned and offered a smile around his cigar.

"I think we met briefly," he started. "But we were never really introduced. I'm Hannibal Smith."

"Kelly Stevens," she smiled back, shaking his hand.

Murdock vaulted into his own seat, beaming. "Kelly's a veterinarian," Murdock added. "She takes care of all kinds of animals."

"Shut the door, Murdock!" BA barked impatiently. "We gotta go!"

Kelly blinked at the abrupt tone, then stared at Murdock as he slammed the side door shut with no regard for the harsh order. "That's BA," he gestured, for her benefit. "He'd shake your hand, but he has an image to uphold. He wouldn't wanna seem too friendly."

She opened her mouth to respond, but clearly had no words. Hannibal smiled in her direction as Murdock set to the task of fastening his seatbelt. "Don't let it bother you, Miss Stevens," he said reassuringly. "We're happy to have you along."

Sure that her smile was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen, Murdock fixed his gaze on her and let the thoughts wander over the days to come as she nodded her thanks for the warm welcome. "Please," she insisted, "call me Kelly."

September 20, 1969

Colonel Smith didn't look up to see who'd stepped into the dingy green, floorless tent and gestured for his attention. "Someone here to see you, Sir."

"Yep," he acknowledged curtly. "Send him in."

The tent flap whisked back into place, but moved aside again a moment later, followed by the squish of muddy footsteps as the newcomer stepped into the makeshift office. Smith didn't look away from the stack of paperwork on his desk - the last of the requests for the immediate transfer of his men out of Duc Co, the Forward Operating Base where they had been stationed for their previous assignment. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man salute.

"Sir! First Lieutenant HM Murdock, Air Force, 20th Helicopter Squadron, 2nd Air Division."

Smith hadn't heard a greeting so formal since he'd set foot in this God-forsaken country. "I know who you are, Lieutenant," he answered, finishing the last signature before glancing up to see the tall, lanky figure in olive fatigues. "I called you here, remember?"

"Yes, Sir!"

The man stood ramrod straight, eyes forward, ready for anything and steeling himself for a reprimand. Smith almost chuckled to himself before sitting back in his rickety wooden chair. "At ease, Lieutenant," he granted. "You're not in trouble."

Lieutenant Murdock didn't relax, still prepared for the worst. He'd undoubtedly had his ass chewed by a half-dozen officers in the past few days, and he was fully prepared for a dress down at the very least, a humiliating downgrade of rank more probably, and at worst, the official word that he was being stripped of his wings.

From the man's reputation, Smith had expected someone older, with more experience. Of course, if he'd been much older he probably would've had more sense, too. The reckless abandon that highlighted HM Murdock's service record was part of what had caught Smith's eye. The man was born to fly. More specifically, he was born to fly in combat.

Finally, Smith broke the silence with a tone he hoped might just be conversational enough to ease the tension. "Have any idea why I asked you here?"

Lieutenant Murdock's jaw twitched, but he otherwise offered no visible response as he answered flatly and directly, "I'm going to take a wild guess that it has something to do with the incident at A Shau."

Smith raised a brow. "The incident?" he prodded encouragingly

Murdock took a deep breath, straightened to full attention again, and clenched his jaw. "If you haven't already heard this, you're the first person I've talked to in days who hasn't," he said coolly, with only the slightest hint of disgust. "And if you haven't heard it, I can't think of a single reason why you'd be calling me here."

Keeping his smile well hidden, Smith leaned back and took a moment to study the pilot. "How in the hell do you pull off a court martial and a recommendation for the Medal of Honor in the same day?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Not just the same day, Sir," Murdock answered flatly. "Actually, it was the same act."

Smith nodded, then steepled his fingers in front of his lips, waiting for more. When no further explanation came, he prodded gently, "Tell me about it."

Wary of the invitation, for it certainly didn't have the demanding tone he'd come to expect, Murdock stood silent for a moment, gaze flickering to the folder on the desk. "You've already read about it," he assumed. "So what is it you want to hear from me?"

With a shrug, Smith regarded the folder with the briefest glance. "You stole a Skyraider?"

"Borrowed," Murdock corrected a bit too eagerly. He corrected his tone quickly. "I borrowed it, Sir."

"You borrowed it for a mission you were totally uninvolved in," Smith clarified. "And specifically against your orders, you flew it into enemy-occupied territory without any permission whatsoever."

"Yes," Murdock replied, without the slightest hint of remorse. "I did."

"You're a Huey pilot," Smith pointed out. "What the hell were you even doing in a Skyraider?"

The vaguely derisive look that crossed the Lieutenant's face made it perfectly clear what he thought about being regarded as a pilot who could only fly one particular aircraft. "I didn't start flying the Huey until I knew I was coming here." His eyes shifted and looked straight at Smith, almost in challenge. "But I'm sure you know that, too."

Colonel Smith smiled, glad to finally be communicating with the young pilot. He did, in fact, know anything about this man that had made it to paper. But he also knew paper only recorded bits and pieces of a man, and his story.

"What made you change your mind?" Smith asked.

Murdock raised a brow, confused by the question but growing increasingly confident by the minute. It was in the way he carried himself; he simply couldn't help the fact that he knew for a fact he was damn good at his job.

"Change my mind?" he repeated.

"About flying a chopper instead of a plane." Smith studied him carefully. "Your file says you used to fly with the Thunderbirds. Seems like a bit of a downgrade to end up here."

"I wanted to be closer to the troops, Sir," Murdock answered icily. "And I knew I'd be damn good at it."

Smith smiled.

"Plus I didn't have much of a choice," Murdock continued coolly. "It's where they sent me."

Pulling a cigar from his breast pocket, Smith bit off the end and held it between his teeth as he grabbed a box of matches from off the table. He wasn't sure which of those two answers to believe - whether the pilot was given a choice or an order. So he chose to believe them both. He didn't figure the man was going to lie outright under this kind of pressure - not over something so seemingly unimportant.

"So tell me about A Shau," Smith invited again, speaking around the cigar.

Murdock drew in a sharp breath. "What about it, Sir?"

Flicking the match, Smith paused to make sure the end of the cigar was lit before waving the flame away. "Tell me what happened," he clarified, ever so patiently. Leaning back again, he regarded Murdock with the quiet expectation of a child settling in for a bedtime story.

The lieutenant eyed him suspiciously. When he finally spoke, the practiced words flowed smoothly after so many rehearsals for angry officers demanding an explanation. "Captain Blake called for an air strike on the south and east wall," Murdock reported with all the emotion of a weatherman giving a weekend forecast. "I was in the radio control center and I heard the call come through. I went. There were four of us flying. Captain Paul Tittle took a hit in the cockpit canopy and had to turn around. Major Anthony Mathers crash landed on the camp's landing strip and hid in a ditch while we tried to cover him with 20mm cannon fire. But the rescue chopper wasn't going to get there in time. Their ETA was still twenty minutes out when I landed and turned the plane around to where he was hiding. The other guys were out of ammo, so they just flew low. I picked him up and got the hell out of there. Took 19 bullet holes in the Skyraider, but Mathers was unharmed."

"You landed on an airstrip that had been torn up by two days of fighting?" Smith questioned, skeptically.

"Yes, Sir, I did." Murdock was scowling at the tent wall again. "Brought it to a stop just before I'd have hit a fuel dump, turned it around, picked up Major Mathers and took off again."

"How long was that?"

Murdock's icy glare turned briefly to confusion. "Sir?"

Puffing on his cigar a few times, Smith kept his gaze fixed on the young lieutenant. "How long were you on the ground?" he clarified.

"I don't know," the pilot admitted. "A few minutes. I wasn't exactly looking at my watch."

Smith studied him in silence for a long moment. Then, finally, he sat forward, resting both arms on the unfinished surface of the splintered wooden desk. "Why did you 'borrow' that plane, Lieutenant?" he asked, sincerely. "Did you think they wouldn't notice?"

Murdock gave a brief snort of laughter at the thought. Of course they would've noticed; he just didn't care. "That camp needed help," he said firmly.

Smith nodded, but remained unconvinced. "They had it."

"They needed me," Murdock snapped, with more emotion than he'd shown in all of his other responses combined.

A little surprised by the outburst, Smith blinked. But before he had a chance to respond, Murdock sighed deeply. "Alright, look," he started, shoulders slouching as he simply gave up trying to play by the book. "I'm up against a court martial anyways so I'm just gonna cut the crap."

With a broad smile, Smith nodded and sat back. "You do that," he said encouragingly.

"You're leading an SOG unit into A Shau," Murdock guessed, though from his tone it was hardly a stab in the dark. Amused by the man's insight, Smith remained silent and let him continue. "You want me to fly you, or you wouldn't have called me here. And I want to fly you. But unfortunately, there's a couple of MPs waiting to escort me to Saigon and they're prob'ly gon' fly me outta the country. So unless you got some special trick up your sleeve for making this all go away, I can't help you. I'm sorry."

Smith took a few puffs from his cigar, considering the young pilot's words. "Actually, the mission is not particularly near A Shau," he clarified. "It's about twenty miles south."

Lieutenant Murdock's eyes fixed again on the tent wall. "I'm sure it is, Sir," he agreed flatly.

Smith almost couldn't contain his chuckle at the response - simple and compliant, like a man accepting an order. The way the pilot's emotionless eyes had immediately diverted away suggested his reply would have been exactly the same if Smith had just told him that the sky was green.

"So do you want a second crack at them?" Smith asked.

Lieutenant Murdock's eyes flashed as he continued to stare at the tent fabric. "I want to smear their blood all over my face like war paint, Sir, but that's not why I'm here."

Smith grinned at the interesting image, and the deep, dark something that flickered in the young man's eyes, piquing his interest. Past the cold emptiness of war, there was something lost in the pilot's soul, maybe even dangerous. He didn't know what it was, but he liked it immediately, instinctively.

"So why are you here?" Smith demanded.

As if oblivious to the question's meaning, Murdock answered without hesitation, "Because you called me here."

"No," Smith corrected, so instantly and forcefully, the pilot almost jumped. Smith let the silence settle before clarifying. "That's not good enough."

Without offering anything more, Smith waited and watched as Lieutenant Murdock slowly turned that oddly intense stare toward him. He could feel the man sizing him up in every which way, eyes narrowing into slits before he finally replied, "I'm here because if you intend to get anywhere near that camp, you're going to need the best goddamn pilot in the United States Air Force to fly you there. And that'd be me."

A full grin broke out over Smith's face, and he tucked his cigar into the corner of his mouth before giving a quick nod. "That's a good reason."

Murdock didn't respond. He didn't flinch. But his eyes were on fire as he studied the colonel and waited for more. Finally, Smith stood, the dangerously shaky chair creaking as he pushed it back over the dirt floor. "I've put in a request to have you for this assignment," Smith informed. "I don't know exactly how that'll work out for your court martial, but I do know that I can be very persuasive. I'll get you cleared to fly again, and you'll be at the controls. Are you up for that?"

If the lieutenant had any reaction at all, it was only the dark shadow that passed over his eyes. "Yes, Sir," he answered.

Smith nodded, dismissing the younger man with a wave. After only a moment of hesitation, and with a slightly glazed look, Murdock gave a vacant salute and turned to leave the tent. It wasn't until he was safely out of the canvas "office" that Smith afforded himself a quiet laugh. He was going to get along with that man just fine.