Hello again and welcome to another round of snooping in Murdock's past. I was intrigued that there was never a mention about family or friends of Murdock's family. Though, I did invent my own interpretation with his family, there was no explantion for his lack of 'past friends'. So here is the finished product. Though, I have to admit I am not sure why it became like this. I just had that idea when I was trying to sleep one night and the idea just never left me, so I decided to write it.
There are no special trigger warnings for this story. Only a little indication, the words in italics (I think it is called like that?) are mostly his thoughts.
Enjoy!
Another mission was successfully accomplished! Kicked some ass. Shot at. Shot back. Saved the day and voilà! What a life!
The team has stopped for the day, intending to stay two nights in the motel as a little 'vacation' after all the hassle. They really did deserve it. In the last few months, they had gone on more missions than ever before.
Murdock decided to go on a stroll after the long car ride. He really needed to stretch his legs. The others weren't up to it, so he wandered off alone. He was walking around the town, criticizing the houses, the gardens, or whatever there was to criticize. Some people really don't have any style. 'Cause seriously, painting a house lime green! That is a disgrace for every lime that has ever existed!
However, soon enough Murdock grew bored or more like exasperated with the lack of style of so many houses, so he skipped along the sidewalk and enjoyed the sun before going back to the white painted rooms of the VA hospital.
Energy like a five-year-old. He came to a halt and looked up into the cloudless sky. It is perfect weather to fly. Absolutely splendid, and he was benched here on the ground with gravity. How boring! Boring !
Still, Murdock didn't let that spill his mood, and he skipped happily along, turning in circles, not looking where he was going. Before he could stop, he ran into a man. The said man gave a yelp of surprise, staggering backwards, almost falling over if Murdock hadn't caught him by the arms.
"I am so sorry, are you-", Murdock halted in his mid-question as he stared into a very familiar face. His blood froze in his veins. A shudder went down his spine. Oh, please. God, not here, not now. Please. Those eyes. His mouth was dry, and he had to swallow the lump that had formed there. He closed his eyes, hoping that it was just a hallucination, a trick, or whatever, but not reality. It's just a trick of your mind. You're just tired. It's all in your head. No need to worry.
"Matt ? Is that you?" asked the man in front of him. And with that, his happy mood was gone with the wind.
That voice was so damn familiar. So soothing and calm. How he had missed it. Murdock screwed his eyes shut. Ignore the voice. It's all in your head. Murdock took a deep breath, pleading that it was all just his imagination, and opened his eyes again. The man was still there. The same blue eyes. Exactly the same. With a lost look.
He let go of the man as if burned. It couldn't be after so many years. Why universe??! Why ?! Why now?! Why today?!
His mind resembled scrambled eggs now. He swore he could hear the siren blaring and the red emergency light turning in circles. This is bad. This is really bad. A small part of him knew that this day would come and that it would hurt. Badly. The other one wished it would never come and that Fred had moved on.
Surprise, hope, sadness, and anger. All mixed together in the deep blue eyes that held so much comfort a long, long time ago. The worst of it? Murdock was responsible for this pain and he knwe it.
"Henry?" the man asked, his voice constricting.
Murdock looked down, unable to continue looking at the pained look. His muscles were so tense, he couldn't even nod properly. He wished he could just run away and forget about all this, but he wasn't sure if his muscles would play along. Stupid fight, flight, or freeze.
It stayed silent for a few seconds. The world seemed to have stilled, the temperature dropped by a few degrees. Murdock shuddered even though he had his jacket on and the sun was shining directly on him. His heart was beating, guilt twisting at it, making it hurt. The lump in his throat only constricting more. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. The dull thump thump. He concentrated on that instead of the labored breathing of the other man.
"15 years," the man whispered. "15 years. You were alive for 15 years and never told me." He stated it like a fact, and, well, it was.
Murdock closed his eyes again. That tone. A cold sweat was breaking out. His hands started shaking, so he stuffed them in his pockets. He didn't want to feel them shaking.
"Why didn't you call me? Or write or," he huffed and looked around, "or came to visit or…I don't know." The disbelief and the hurt were evident in his voice. Desperation now bleeding into it too. His voice was getting louder.
Again silence. Murdock didn't look up; he didn't dare to. He felt like a little child again, getting yelled at by his grandparents when he did something bad.
"What the hell, man?! Where were you?" the man exploded. The quick change from the whisper to the shout startled Murdock. He flinched at the tone and was forced to look the man in the eyes. His eyes were blazing with fury and hurt. The dark blue looked like a storm at sea, hitting big waves and threatening to drown the pilot in its depths.
The alarm bells were clearly screaming now, and he was getting into unsafe territory. He could feel himself slipping into another episode. Oh god. Please not that. Anything, but not that. He pleaded to a higher power. He didn't really fancy showing his friend the reason why he didn't call or write or visit.
"I-" Murdock cleared his throat and licked his dry lips. "I-I was in LA," he admitted. Ooh, bad answer, was his instant thought. He readied himself for the storm that was coming.
"LA ? Were you gambling?! Or what- ", the man was at a loss for words.
"No ! I wasn't gambling, I-" Murdock, too, was at a loss for words. What could he say about what he had been doing in LA? He certainly won't tell him about the VA.
"You were what, huh?" the man accused, coming a step closer. Murdock flinched again, having to restrain himself from taking a step back. Fred's mouth was set in a grim line. His fists clenched at his side. His shoulders and all his muscles were tensed. He was practically vibrating with tension.
"I was with my unit…from the war," Murdock admitted, his voice almost a whisper, not daring to look the other in the eyes anymore. This is even more horrible than I thought.
"With your unit? Is your unit suddenly more important than your friends?!"
"No, of course not! I-"
"You what?" Fred interrupted. "What are you even doing with your unit in LA?!"
"We were doing missions," Murdock almost whispered.
"Missions ? You were doing missions ?! Is that a soldier of fortune act or what?" the man asked, laughing humorlessly.
As Murdock didn't object, the friend stilled and looked at him and said, "You're serious. Soldiers of fortune? What the hell, man! Why-", he stopped mid-sentence. A look of understanding crossed his face. "You're with the A-Team, aren't you?"
Murdock's head shot up, surprise written all over his face. "How did you-"
"What the hell, Matt?! They're criminals! Haven't you learned anything from your last encounter with criminals in high school?! They are wanted criminals! What are you doing with them?" the man shouted, waving his hands around.
"They're not criminals, Fred. They are not like you think they are!" Murdock tried to explain calmly. Putting his hands up in a calming manner.
"Not criminals ?! Are you well?! They have killed a general, Henry! They have robbed a bank! Committed high treason, and you are defending them! Why ?!" Fred intentionally used his first name, he so despises.
That question hurt him. Not only the use of his first name, but also, he thought that Fred knew him. He knew that Murdock wouldn't just defend any man for the fun of it. Couldn't he see that the team was important to him?
"You're wrong! They were put up. It was all a trap. I was with them. They're good people", Murdock tried to reason, lowering his voice and imitating a calmness that did not resemble his mind. His tension in his muscles was gone, which should be good, but it wasn't. Murdock, though, with all his might, was fighting against his episode and also against the heavy flight instinct that was taking over his mind. It was the only thought he had. Run !
Fred looked at him for a moment, as if he were an alien from outer space. Something like a betrayal crossed his face. Digging the knife already deeper into his heart. Run ! Run !
"Screw this. I'm calling the military police," Fred declared, turning away from his former best friend.
"No, Fred! Please don't do that! Listen to me! They're not like that! Please, you have to believe me, Fred! Please!" Murdock pleaded with his best friend. Forgetting calm, his desperation was bleeding in his voice.
"Why should I believe anything you have to say, Henry? Why? Huh?" Fred turned back around, looking at the pilot with blazing eyes, breathing hard with barely contained anger. He resembled more like a ferocious animal, ready to pounce and tear him apart. "You were alive for the last 15 years and never came to me! I thought you were dead!" tears welled in Fred's eyes. "I thought my best friend had died,"he choked out. Fred took a moment to compose himself. He turned his face away to hide his tears.
Murdock couldn't listen further. His mind was telling him to run and hide. Go back and pretend it never happened, but his body, his cruel body, locked up again, forcing him to stand frozen on the spot.
"I went to the military cemeteries looking for you. Maybe you had died; only I haven't been told. I mean, I'm no direct family," he let out a watery laugh. "I heard these awful stories of POW camps where men just disappeared and never returned. Men who were never seen again. Men who were blown to bits with no sign that they had ever existed. I prayed that you didn't die like that, Henry. I had prayed every day for your safe return. Every day," Fred whispered the last part, tears finally leaking freely from his eyes. Either he didn't care anymore or he was too upset to care about it.
Murdock couldn't even describe how he felt anymore. The pain was almost unbearable. Tears sprang to his eyes, but he tried to blink them away.
"So tell me one good reason why I shouldn't call the military police right now." Fred's lips quivered.
Murdock took a deep breath and looked up again. "I can't," he croaked out. What reason could he give?
Fred let out another watery laugh and drove a hand through his black hair. "Why, Matt? Why ? How could you do this to me?" There was no anger anymore in that voice, only sadness and disappointment.
Murdock truly wished Fred would punch him or something, anything else. Because this? This hurt too damn much.
"I-", he tried swallowing again. "I couldn't come back."
Fred only stared at him incredously, the fire building up again.
"You couldn't?" he repeated again. Fred looked at him in disbelief. Murdock looked away. He didn't know what else to say. Why didn't he come back? The truth is, he doesn't want his friends to see what he as become. So, he didn't come back. Let his friends believe he was dead.
"You're just like your mother," Fred spat out. Murdock's head shot up, anger and hurt welling inside of him. "I know how much it hurt you. You wondered for so long why she did it. If you weren't good enough for her. Well, Henry, congratulations; you did exactly the same thing. So what was it? Why ?" Fred was furious, voice dangerously low; that was clear, but he had no right! Absolutely no right!
"I am nothing like her!" Murdock exploded. "I-You have no idea what I've been through! How-"
"Well, how could I?!" Fred interrupted. "You never wrote to me! You let me bury Lawrence and Emma alone! Because you weren't there!", Fred jabbed a finger at Murdock's chest. "Didn't your family mean anything to you?! You didn't even come to the funeral! And don't tell me you're nothing like her, because you are!" Fred snarled.
Murdock shut his eyes to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. The knife dug deeper and deeper into his heart. His mother left him when he was six and a half. She had been a widow. Husband declared MIA, presumed dead. One day, she packed his bags and left him in his grandparent's care. She never came back. Murdock doesn't know if she's even still alive. He never understood why. Now…he did. He understood why she left him. He was disgusted by himself, because Fred was right, he was just like her. A coward, who couldn't face reality. He truly wished that Fred would punch him in the face. At least then would the pain truly be physical. It sure felt like it.
"It's like I don't even know you anymore," he whispered, his anger replaced with sadness and regret.
"I'm still the same, Fred. I'm still the same Matt, you know!" Murdock looked at him pleadingly. He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince. Fred or himself.
He felt Fred slip through his fingers. Their friendship lost in the wind. This, their friendship, was one of the only positive things he has left from his past.
"No. No, you're not. I don't know who came back from Vietnam, but it's no longer the Matt I knew and loved."
It felt like something had shattered inside of him. Fred looked at him with hard and determined eyes, a look he always reserved for people he despised. He wanted to scream, shout, do…something, but there were no words clear enough to express how he felt. The pain really feels physical now. As if somebody had punched him bloody with no blood to show, no bruises, no nothing.
"The Matt I knew would have never done that to his family. To his best friend!"
Fred looked away again, as if he were ashamed to only look at Murdock. He had really messed up. He thought he was doing something right when he decided not to leave a message for his best friend. He did see now that it was the wrong choice. A choice that left him unsure if Fred would ever forgive him again. Well, how could he? Would he forgive his mother for leaving him when he needed her the most? Probably not.
In the end, Fred was right. The old Murdock wouldn't have done that. On the contrary, he would have been ashamed of himself for doing that and for causing that much pain to his best friend. The new Murdock, though, did it.
Murdock took a deep, shuddering breath and took all his energy together to hold back his tears. "You're right, Fred. You're absolutely right, and I am so sorry for all the pain I've caused you. It was wrong of me to do so. I-you're right. I-I'm not the Matt you know anymore. I-", he took another deep breath, preparing himself for what he was about to tell his best friend.
"I live in a psychiatric hospital in LA. I'm a certified crazy man now," Murdock let out a watery laugh.
"I hear voices that are not there; I see people that aren't there. I'm an absolute mess. I-", Murdock searched for words to express how he felt after the war had ended.
"I had been in a dark place when Pop and-" Murdock choked back a sob. "When Pop and Ma had died, I couldn't come back because I-because I knew that-I knew it would break me. I had lost many good friends, and I-I wanted to pretend that they were still there, w-waiting for me when I came back. I-I don't know." Murdock wasn't sure how to explain it. It sounded so simple and reasonable in his mind, but to put it in words and explain it, it felt all wrong and unreasonable.
He let out another laugh. "It broke me anyway. I didn't fight anymore afterwards. I didn't care anymore if I died or not. I had promised Pop that I would come back, but, hey, he beat me to it. I-"
"I felt like-like he betrayed me. I-He was gone, and I-I was still there. He was the only one who could understand what it was like, and suddenly he was gone, and I was alone. and-"
He put a hand over his eyes to brush away the rogue tears escaping his eyes. "I was a mess after the war, and I-I didn't want you to see me that way. I didn't want you to see someone you didn't know anymore. Its-I-I'm so sorry for your pain. I-"
Fred observed Murdock intently, watching his every move. He could see that his exterior wall was crumbling. It was so paradoxical seeing a person that resembled so much a person he knew and somehow not at all. Matt still looked the same on his exterior. Tall and lanky form. The ever-present Converse sneakers and baseball cap. Messy hair. He still held that mischievous glint in his eyes—the same fire, though now dimmed but still ever-present. His eyes still radiated the same warmth and kindness as before, but there was something else that was new and unknown to Fred. There was fear and terror—a new glint, a crazy glint.
Matt had always been eccentric, even when they were younger. That was simply who he was. He talked in funny voices and accents and impersonated other people, but if that was true what Matt told him that he lives in a psychological ward because he hears and sees things—people that are not there.
Fred tried to make sense of this. What it would be like hearing or seeing things that aren't there. His brain tried to find something compatible. The only thing that came up was a memory from five years ago.
He had seen a woman having a nervous breakdown in the middle of the sidewalk. He didn't know what had happened, but it had left a considerable mark. She had shaken uncontrollably, cried, and screamed. She had lost complete control of herself. Her eyes blodshot from all the crying. Her cries were full of anguish, it really broke his heart. A man had sat next to her, hugging her close and talking softly to her, but he had seen the pain and desperation in the man's eyes as silent tears rolled down his cheeks. It had hurt him too to have to console her like that when there was nothing he could do to take the pain or the fear away. He had been helpless in the face of this.
Fred shuddered at the memory. Imagining Matt, his best friend, like that would scare him much more. He couldn't imagine him like that, not ever. Would the crazy do that do his best friend? Until now, the old version of Matt had stayed in his mind. The one who laughed and cracked jokes, who had absolutely no sense of self-protection, who would try the weirdest food combos just to know what they tasted like. Who had a crazy, weird immunity to electric shocks. A man who had the energy and curiosity of a five-year-old and a will to live like no other. Was that all…gone now?
Matt was a friend, as everybody imagined friends to be. He would pull Fred up when he broke down, offer a hand if needed, and hit him out of his stupidity if needed. Why would Matt refuse his help? Did Matt really think that Fred would abandon him? That he wouldn't be willing to help him because it hurt too much? Real friends are the ones who stay by your side even when it seems that the world wants to drown you.
"I won't ask for your forgiveness, but please, believe me when I say this: I am so sorry," Murdock apologized again. He looked worn and tired, his eyes red. His shoulders hunched forward as if he were carrying the weight of the world.
Nobody in Fred's family had been in the military, so there was no one who could have told him what it was like, let alone tell him what war was like. There had been no war in the US for the last hundred years and more, he had no reference point. Nothing. That scared him. Seeing Matt like this was the closest thing he has seen of war. Well, except for movies. But then again, movies and reality are two different things. It was clear now that whatever he had seen over there had left a big mark. A very big mark. There were pieces of the old Matt missing; that was clear. And he spat it in his face. Guilt rippled through him. Fred lowered his head in shame.
Fred, by all means, was still pissed, but that didn't mean that he would turn his back on his friend when he clearly needed one. It also didn't mean that he didn't regret some of the things he said. Though that was of no importance now.
Fred lunged forward and embraced the taller man. "I'm just happy that you're alive, Matt." His voice was muffled by the leather jacket.
Murdock, at first, tensed at the sudden embrace, which made Fred only hug him tighter. Slowly and tentatively, the pilot encircled his best friend too and buried his face in his shoulder. It felt good and familiar. Something they had done a lot when they were younger.
They stayed like that for a few minutes while both men tried to hold back their tears of relief so as not to make the situation even more awkward. Finally, as they let go of each other, Fred looked his friend in the eyes and said, "This doesn't mean I'm still pissed at you, Matthew."
Murdock let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. He nodded.
"So tell me about that A-team of yours. If you defend them that much, it has to be for a good reason," Fred asked. Murdock smiled. It seemed that Fred did know him after all.
Murdock brushed away the last tears and cleared his throat before beginning to explain his whole adventure with the A-Team, how he got put on the team, the missions, the fateful day in Hanoi, and their soldiers of fortune gig, leaving out the more gory details of prison camps and other not so fancy details about war and such.
"They are among the reasons why I'm still alive today," Murdock said, finishing his report. Fred had listened intently, clinging to every word.
"So basically, the A-Team are the good guys framed for something they never committed, and now you all run around playing soldiers of fortune while making fun of the military. Have I missed anything?" Fred repeated. Everything did sound kind of crazy. Though his team did sound like good men who have Matt's best interests in mind, but Fred wasn't sure if he was convinced.
"Yeah, that's it, basically. Are you still calling the military police?" Murdock asked hesitantly, hoping he made a good impression so as to avoid that possibility.
"For now. I'm still not sure about…all of this," Fred waved around, "but I believe that I owe them at least the benefit of the doubt. And also, it wouldn't be of use; your team would just break out again," Fred added.
At that, Murdock let out a laugh: "You bet."
They stayed in silence for a while, both men not sure how to proceed. Fred broke the silence: "So what are you gonna do now?"
Murdock scratched the back of his neck and said, "I'll go back to the team. They probably already wonder where I've been, and then I'll see," Murdock answered.
Fred wasn't quite satisfied with that answer. He didn't want to lose his best friend again after just reuniting with him. "Come visit me, alright? And write me or call, or I don't know, but please don't disappear like that again, ok?"
Murdock nodded. "I will, I promise."
Both men hugged again and parted ways again.
Around two weeks later, a letter arrived in Fred's mailbox. Unusual since he doesn't receive many letters. He only had to turn it around to see who it was.
In the envelope, there was a picture of four men. They stood together in what appeared to be a living room, smiling brightly into the camera. He guessed that it was the A-Team.
As he turned the picture around, he noticed something scribbled on the back. You're wrong about them. That's all it said. No further explanation or elaboration, just that. The man sighed and observed the picture instead.
The A-Team appeared to be standing in some sort of living room. Fred quickly identified the man standing on the left as the leader of the A-Team, John Smith, also called Hannibal. He had one arm draped on the shoulder of the man standing beside him, leaning on it casually and smiling. He had something in his eyes that could only be described as trouble. He had only heard that the Colonel is an excellent strategist and earned his nickname like that. There was not much more that he knew about him.
Fred guessed that the man beside the Colonel was Templeton Peck, also known as Faceman. He was unsure as to why they called him Faceman. Maybe because of his handsome face. He slightly leaned into the touch of Hannibal, as if there was some kind of fatherly bond between these two. His smile was a bit more reserved, though he stuck out with his expensive suit. Though, he frowned at the expensive looking suit.
Fred's eyes traveled on and rested on the face of his best friend, Matt. He grinned directly into the camera, his whole being completely relaxed. He stood close to the Faceman, another indication that these two were close. A pang of something gripped his heart. Was it jealousy? No. No, absolutely not. Fred moved his hand through the air as if he were trying to brush away that thought.
Surprisingly, Fred noted that the papers never talked about Matt when talking about the A-Team. They only talked about three members, never about four. Wasn't Matt an official member? Or did he meet them only after the war? No, he thought. Why would they put up with a certified crazy man only after the war? No, they must have known him before. Still, why are the papers never talking about him? He stared at his best friend's face as if the answer would magically appear. He has to ask him when he gets the chance and filed the question away for later.
The last member, Fred, identifies as BA Baracus. He looks even more scary in person than in the description. He is very bulky and big. There are many gold chains around his neck and gold rings on his fingers. Though he leans casually to the side, no trace of anything threatning, one side of his mouth is turned up, and he stands a bit on the side beside Matt. An arm around him, almost in a protective manner.
The A-Team really looks harmless on the picture, so different from the official photo in the newspapers where they are all in military uniforms with their blank stares. Now they all look like normal civilians. Though, appearances can be deceiving, that's for sure. After all, they have killed a general, robbed a bank, and committed high treason. Well, at least the papers have said it. Matt, though, argues that they are wrong. Well, who knows?
Fred looked up from the photo, and his gaze swept the room, lingering on the phone. A dangerous thought crossed his mind. A feeling of satisfaction, desire for revenge, and anticipation spread through his body. Later, he didn't know why he thought about it. It had been as if something else had possessed him. All reason out the window.
He could get back at Matt. He could inflict the same pain on him as Matt had inflicted on him. He could inflict the same feeling of betrayal as Matt had done to him. An eye for an eye, they say. It would only be fair. A malicious grin spread on his lips.
Before Fred could stop himself, he had the phone in his hand. He clutched it like his life depended on it. In his left hand, he still held the photo of the A-Team. The thought alone of bringing the A-Team to justice and hurt Matt as he had been hurt made his heart pound. Sweat broke out on his forehead, and his hand trembled slightly from anticipation.
Fred was about to dial the number for the military police when his eyes caught sight of Matt's face again. He was smiling so happily and so content. That's exactly how he always looked when they were kids. That's exactly how he always grinned. He faltered. His finger hanging in the air above the first digit. Doubt creeping up in his mind. Slowly. It was like a curtain was lifted from his eyes. The realization of what he was about to do dawned on him.
Suddenly, he saw Matt's face from two weeks ago again. He stood there so shocked when he realized what he had done to his best friend. The self-disgust, the anger, but also the disappointment in himself had been clearly recognizable. At the time, he thought that Matt at least showed remorse for what he'd done. And what was Fred about to do? Do something awful and feel happy while doing it. Like a sadist.
Fred dropped the photo as if it burned him. It slowly slid to the ground until it landed on the floor with the smiling faces up staring at him. He slammed the phone back onto his station, making the table shake.
Fred looked at the floor where the photo lay. It lay there so innocently, but their eyes—the eyes of all of them—seemed to pierce him; they seemed to look into his very soul and see his desires, his deepest secrets, and what he was about to do.
He couldn't look at Matt's smiling face anymore. It felt like a stab any time he looked at it, the thought of the desire for revenge weighing heavily on his mind. So many emotions hit him at once that it took his breath away. There was so much energy and tension in his body that he felt like he was going to burst at any moment. The man started pacing up and down the room, running his hand through his black hair again and again.
He couldn't believe what he was about to do. How could he do this to his best friend? He faltered in his step. In truth, he would have had the right, but not like this, never like this. Then he resumed his pacing again. Matt had done it for a reason, whereas Fred would have done it with only one thought in mind. Pain. He would have called the military police on them on purpose, just to hurt Matt, only to hurt him. Not to protect him. Matt hadn't done it with that intention. Yes, he had really hurt him, but not with direct intent.
The question is, what did Fred expect from it? What would he have expected to happen? His desire for revenge would be fed and his satisfaction fueled, but that would only last a moment. Afterwards he would really realize what he had done. What he had done to his best friend. Matt's face, streaked with grief, anger and incomprehension, burned before his eyes. The image felt so real, as if he could touch it. Fred stopped in the middle of the room and closed his eyes as he buried his head in his hands. He was so ashamed of himself. He couldn't even put it into words anymore. Matt's hurt face hanging in front of his eyes as if taunting him.
Fred lifted his head and took a deep breath to calm his racing heartbeat a little. He had wanted to do it, but he didn't, so nothing bad has happened yet and Matt won't find out. Ever.
With those words, he picked up the photo again. Only now did he notice that the edges of the photograph were worn, as if someone had held it on numerous occasions and examined it, just like Fred did. Which means that it must be in Matt's private possession. Another stab of guilt wound through his heart, but at the same time, he felt happy. Matt trusted him with this, probably a precious object for him. He sighed. Fred didn't exactly feel as if he deserved that kind of trust. Though, he will do better and resumed his observation.
His eyes wandered over every face. At first glance, everyone seemed happy and content. You wouldn't even know they had been at war since they have no obvious scars on their faces or missing limbs. And yet he recognized in every single look the terror that they carried with them everywhere, that you couldn't shake off; that was like a disease that you couldn't heal from. Fred was sure that they all had scars under their clothes. The only evidence of the terror they had experienced. The only proof of how they had changed. None of them are like they used to be.
Looking at the photo, Fred had to admit to himself that he had changed too. He's not like he used to be. He's different. Would Matt dump him for that? No. He wouldn't do that. Matt wouldn't care how much Fred changed. Matt was just too loyal. Every person he trusts benefits from his unlimited loyalty. These guys could benefit from it too. So they really had to be worth it.
Fred thought for a moment and then made his decision. He will give this A-Team a chance. But if they give him any reason to believe that they are criminals after all, or if they harm Matt in any way, then these men will be in custody faster than they can say A-Team.
Fred nodded in agreement with his decision. He felt relieved somehow. Satisfied, he put the picture in his box, where he kept all his precious possessions. He looked at the photo one last time before closing the lid. He will forgive Matt one day, but not today.
The end. I hope you enjoyed it and feel free to leave a review or point out any grammar or spelling mistakes.
Until next time! Bye;)