Nostalgia - from nostros (homecoming) and alga (pain)
He hung up the phone and wandered back to the living room. Frankie was playing a solo game of pool while Hannibal and Face were double-checking their plans. The team was due to leave tomorrow for East Germany - which meant, of course, getting drugged up one way or another and waking up with a fucking headache.
Hannibal glanced up at him. "How's your mom?"
"She's good."
Hannibal nodded and went back to the folder. BA headed outside, having no interest in playing pool with Frankie. He almost wished Murdock was here. At least he supplied a diversion, even if he irritated at the same time.
He sat down at the far end of the yard, looking up at the house. Thought about his mama. This was almost harder on her than it had been when they were on the run. BA had to call Karen, his mama's friend upstairs, and then she would go down and get Mama - all because the military was still bugging her phone, even more desperate to find out where the team had disappeared to.
Mostly he was thinking about the news Mama had given him. His uncle Robbie had passed away a couple months before, and the family had just finished sorting out his belongings. Robbie had left his tool set to BA, and Mama assured him that she would keep it safe until he could come home.
Robbie was the one who'd first gotten him interested in working on engines, not long after BA's daddy died. His uncle was a master mechanic, and taught BA so much. They'd be out in the garage, tearing things down and putting them back together, after school, weekends. Didn't matter if there was something wrong with the machines or not - Robbie wanted him to know how to do it. Never criticized him, just corrected him, let him know Robbie had confidence in him.
BA missed Robbie. Missed those hours spent in the garage.
Hell, he just missed being home...
Frankie took another shot, watching the cue ball meander past the other balls and drop with a happy kerplunk in the pocket. Frankie shook his head and tossed the stick on the table.
"Not my day."
"Got that right!"
He ignored the snicker from BA and left the room. He glanced into the living room where Hannibal and Face were seeing who could cheat the other in cards. Murdock was there as well, reading comic books and making random - and unwelcome - comments about who had played the same card twice.
Frankie glanced at the alarm clock in his room. If he was home, he'd be one of two places right now. Either on set, getting ready to blow something up, or visiting his dad. He got letters every week from the nursing home, but they were pretty clinical. Cold, factual.
He thought about the talks he had with his dad. The old man was a little 'off' now, but he loved hearing about Frankie's job. Even more, he loved talking about his old jobs, of which there were many. He'd done so many things, had adventures of his own, and as much as he loved talking about them, Frankie loved hearing about them. Even the 'bad' days, when all they did was sit outside and watched the other people sitting around.
It was just... nice to be with his dad.
He wondered how long it would be before they could sit together again.
Or if his dad would even last long enough to do that.
"Murdock, come in here, will you?"
It was never a good sign when the boss called you in before you'd even started working. He'd learned that over the past few months. Sighing, he headed for the boss's office. Ten minutes later he was at the city bus stop, ruminating over the less than stellar tour those tourists would have tonight.
On the way home, he thought about going out to the compound. But that meant either taking a cab with money he really didn't have right now, or taking the bus and walking a mile and a half. Not to mention convincing BA or one of the Ables to take him home. Mostly, though, the guys knew he was supposed to be at work, and he didn't feel like explaining yet another firing.
He closed the door to his apartment, dropping his jacket carelessly on the couch. Well, he still had dishes to wash, maybe do some laundry. Always good to have clean underwear in case the general came up with a new suicide mission.
He wandered to the back balcony. It wasn't a bad place to live, really. Spacious compared to his room back at the VA. But people tended to stay to themselves. No group activities here. No eating in the cafeteria with a hundred others. No playing cards or watching TV in one big activity room...
He sighed, heavily. Things had been so much simpler when he was still in the VA. And happier, too, surprisingly enough. He hadn't realize how much he liked having people around him. All the time. Here everybody had their own lives, their own interests. The only person he'd really gotten to know in the building was Erica, and she'd been busy with that new coffee shop the last few weeks. She'd actually said he should come to work there. She had some clout, being the assistant manager. Maybe she'd be more willing to let him have time off when the guys needed him. It would be nice to know he'd have a job when he got back...
It had been threatening to rain all afternoon, and now it started with a vengeance. Murdock hurried inside, glad he hadn't taken the bus out to see the guys. He'd have been a wet mess by the time he got there. One more difference between here and LA. He missed the almost constant sunshine.
He missed a lot of things.
But the guys were here, so this is where he would be.
It never should have happened. Not that level of sloppiness. And they'd fallen for it because Stockwell had assured them he could trust these people. That he knew the 'territory' better than anyone. That they could trust Alice Heath.
Sloppy.
That's what happened when they had a boss who hadn't been in the field for years, who wouldn't admit he might not be as savvy as he thought. And Hannibal had fallen for it just like the rest of them.
Over ten years they'd been on the run. They'd learned who to trust, when to trust them - and when they had to watch their backs. Sure, they'd each been fooled a few times, but never when it came to the jobs they took, to putting their lives on the line. They didn't work with or for people they hadn't checked out thoroughly, even people they'd known in Nam. People change, after all. Sure, it took them a few close calls in the beginning to learn that hard lesson, but they had learned.
God, he wanted out of here. He wanted them all out of here. Wanted to go back to the way they'd operated before, making their own decisions, doing their own research, knowing they could improvise as needed instead of waiting for some dick in a plane telling them what they could or couldn't do.
Back to when the stakes were high, but on their terms.
He watched the guys setting up for their latest 'party'. It was almost routine now - Face could arrange these things in his sleep. He always added a little extra something each time, something guaranteed to piss off Stockwell. Not a lot - more like a pebble in his shoe.
That wasn't a good habit to develop. One day he might actually go too far. And Hannibal didn't seem inclined to pull him back. Waiting for Stockwell to give him that kick in the ass?
Shit. He wanted things like they'd been before. Fuck the damn pardons.
Well, it was different in many ways. Mostly not having the military after them. Ironically, they had to be careful about the police now. Somehow they didn't take kindly to having their streets filled with blown up or crashed cars. Not to mention gunfire...
He smiled. He'd had a visit from a member of the constabulary shortly after getting settled back in LA. A fairly high-ranking member, actually. Setting some 'guidelines'. Reminding him that those pardons only covered past transgressions.
A reminder he didn't take lightly. Weapons they typically used - illegal to own. Methods they were used to - illegal. And from a very practical point of view, the numbers they would be facing - phenomenal. Not just a handful of MPs, but one of the largest police departments in the whole damn country. And they didn't like vigilantes.
Same tune, different words.
They'd all had calls from reporters, but by mutual agreement kept everything low-key.
For all outward appearances, they were taking it easy. Making some noise about being more detective than nemesis in the future, but just 'adjusting' for a few months. Despite the years that had passed, the guys still remembered how to get things done without being noticed. After all, they'd only been a rumor for many years. Hannibal fully intended to remain that way from now on.
He didn't worry about the cops, the weapons - none of that. They'd adjust and keep going, like they always did. He did worry about his people, though. Frankie, still the novice, not understanding the subtleties needed now. Murdock, still adjusting to life away from the VA. Stuff most people just took for granted, foreign to him. BA, while still totally on-board, also wanted to spend more time with his mother. Not as accepting of a heavy team schedule.
And Face... Good Lord, the schemes he was already thinking up, now that he could go "legit". Anxious to have it all before he was too old to enjoy it.
Yeah, things would be different now. He almost wished he'd never heard of Stockwell.