My little dog - a heartbeat at my feet. - Edith Wharton
He looked through the bamboo, across the camp, into the jungle, the mountains beyond. It hadn't started raining yet, but it was coming. Bad enough to have to fly through it; worse laying in the mud as it streamed down into mini-rivers, soaking through everything. No place to go, no chance of getting away from it. Just lay there and feel it crawling beneath and around you.
But right now, he was watching. Something had caught his eye. Something that didn't belong. He glanced at the others. Hannibal and BA weren't looking in the right direction, and Ray was asleep. But Face - Face was looking right at it.
Carefully Murdock moved over by him, not wanting to catch the guards' attention. Just as carefully, he nudged Face's shoulder.
"You see him?"
Face frowned. "Who?"
"The dog!"
"Murdock, the camp is full of dogs. Canine and human," he added, bitterly.
"No, no - not the usual mutts. That white one. You were looking right at him!" Murdock looked over where he'd seen the dog.
Nothing.
"He was there, Face. A white dog."
He could see the worry in Face's eyes. "You sure, Murdock?"
"Sure as I'm looking at you."
Face sighed. "Well, maybe he took off. Maybe he belongs to one of the hill people and went home. But, hey, if you see him again, let me know, okay? It'd be nice to see something different from these other mutts."
They smiled at each other, and looked back where the white dog had been.
He looked around his new abode, courtesy of Uncle Sam. The room was small, but at least it was his. He hadn't really minded the barracks, but some of the guys got kinda wild. And they did have this thing about being pilots, as if that by itself, made them special in some way. Lot of big egos in those barracks. Most were nice, though. Knew the job was more important than their reps. He liked hanging around with them, when the guys were busy. He had to admit, he got a little 'extra' rep because of the team, but...
He sighed. That all changed with the robbery. Everything kinda went off the rails then.
He hadn't heard from any of the guys since. Saw the news of their escape, and he kinda thought they'd get in touch then. He didn't dare ask about them, not after those MPs came to see him. He'd watched the news, though. Reports of sightings, here and there. But no contact.
Nada.
He wasn't due for the next therapy session for a couple hours yet. He supposed he could go down to the rec room for a while. Sit and watch the other crazies do their thing.
He was just reaching for the door when he heard a scuffling noise. He frowned. Mice? Rats? Maybe a mongoose. He heard it again. Under the bed.
He tilted his head, and slowly, cautiously, lay down on the floor, ready to spring up and out if necessary. He carefully raised the edge of the blanket that hung down, hiding the culprit, whatever it might be - and then smiled.
He always knew he'd see that little white dog again...
It hurt. It really, really hurt. He wished that pretty little nurse would come back and shoot him full of that stuff again. Put him out, just like BA. Sleep away the pain.
Damn. He should be grateful he could feel the pain. Doc said it was close. If it hadn't been for Hannibal, taking that bullet out when he did... He chuckled. Wondered what Decker'd looked like when they took off like that. He could just imagine.
He wondered if Face would try to call him again. They hadn't been able to talk very long that first time, and Murdock knew he hadn't made a lot of sense. Not that he usually did, according to BA. But at least he knew the guys had gotten away. And Decker - well, thank God Murdock had so many relatives, even if they included really, really clumsy ones that didn't know how to handle a loaded gun. Decker might have suspicions, but that's all they were.
Doc said he'd be here for a couple more days, a couple more really long days. Then back to the VA. Guys wouldn't show up there for a while, that's for sure.
More long days...
He shifted a bit, regretting it immediately. Damn. He wished... He stopped. Smiled.
There it was again. That familiar scuffling sound. Under the bed. Gently, Murdock patted the side of the bed, wanting to laugh when the scuffle became a scramble. A moment later, he was grinning.
And the little white dog, now wiggling at the foot of the bed, grinned right back.
He was sitting on a small bench, just outside the doors to the hospital. The rest of the guys were still inside, waiting for Face to get out of surgery. Murdock wanted to be there, but he just couldn't. Sitting in there, watching the others pace, or stare out the window, or trying to reassure each other that everything would be fine...
What if it wasn't?
Hannibal had come after him as he left. Started to tell him to stay, but then just sighed, and said he's send Frankie down when they had news.
So now he sat here, watching the moon through the leaves of the tree, wishing he knew how to pray better. It had been a long time since he'd prayed at all. Too long, maybe.
Something pushed at his arm, and he jumped, thinking it was Frankie. Then he smiled, through the tears, and hugged the little white dog.
They sat there, quietly, until Frankie finally came to find them.
He stood in the corner, watching. He didn't want to go close to the bed; he knew what was happening, and had already come to peace with it. After all, nobody lived forever, and it had been a good life, overall. Four men, so different yet so alike. Thinking about it, he knew that, even with the whole robbery thing, being fugitives had been the best thing that could've happened to them. Where else, with who else, could they have lived the lives they really needed to live? Adrenaline junkies, all of them, in their very different, yet so alike ways.
Hannibal Smith - acting would never give him the joy that taking out the bad guys had. BA - gruff to the point where he could never fit in with 'polite society', yet accomplished so much good. And Face - no way he could live a legitimate lifestyle! He needed to feel alive like no suburban white picket fence could give him.
And Murdock? Who else would've accepted all his eccentricities like these men? Allow him the freedom to be himself, regardless of who that happened to be at the time?
No, they'd had good lives, really, and all due to that great injustice. Lives none of them would really regret. He certainly didn't.
He watched as, one by one, Hannibal, BA, and finally Face said their good-byes and walked out the door, and then he was the only one left. The one who watched as the room slowly faded away. He looked down, smiled softly.
"Come on, Billy. It's time we went home."