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This page last viewed: 2017-04-25 and has been viewed 1482 times
Warning: Death of a major character. 1st POV.
Summary: Response to the Famous Last Wordís challenge on the Story Board Group.
Disclaimer: I do not own TAT.
Copyright: Sarah Diaz, 2004
Thanks: Viskey my beta. A better one no one can have!
Comments: Oh yes, please!
You know, I thought there were a lot ways I could die one day. Iíd have bet to get shot. Or blown up. Or stabbed. Or beaten to death. Or perhaps shoved out of a plane. You know, some worthy death for an old soldier like me.
Good, I havenít been with the army for more than a decade now. But my line of work would still have called for such a death. I mean, Iím the leader of the famous A-Team. We stopped countless bad asses from harassing an innocent. We lead a dangerous life, but weíre Special Forces. We are not afraid of death. Heís a constant in our lives. Weíve learned to accept him as our friend.
Ok, Murdockís not. But the reason why I brought him onto the team was because I knew from the first moment on that this young man had accepted death in a way even most Special Forces werenít able to. Itís been there in his eyes. Always made me wonder what or who had taught him.
Iím not afraid now. At least not of dying. I know Iím dying and I accepted it. Still Iím afraid. Afraid for my men. Itís true we donít fear death. Our own death.
Thatís the difference. We donít fear our death. But we fear the death of one of the others.
Iím afraid how my boys will cope with my death. Can they deal with it? Weíre in the middle of a mission. A dangerous one. If they got careless now, mourning over me, it could get them killed. Which wasnít acceptable.
Itís not that I donít trust them. Each of them was well trained when I met them. Then I even trained them better until there were the best. Iím proud of my men. Theyíre excelling in what they do. And I know that with time they will work through my death.
Problem was that now they wonít have time. The bad guys were coming. They had the little daughter of our client in their clutches. And they were going to kill her. The place we were going to storm was well secured and swarming with a lot well trained guards. My boys needed to have a clear head or they would get killed.
Damn this stupid banana peel. Wouldnít she have been where I jumped I wouldnít have slipped and fallen a few meters down onto the road. The car coming fast down the road wouldnít have hit me, throwing me into the white fence. And I wouldnít have been stabbed by one of the pales.
But not now, seeing the desolate and desperate eyes of my boys, looming over me. Iíd love to say something to them, some last comforting words, some last advise for life, some last warning to not get killed mourning over me. Or perhaps just for a last ĎI love it when a plan comes togetherí. Though this phrase would probably be out of place, because getting killed by a banana had really not have been my plan., I havenít any strength left to speak anyway.
I feel Face and BA holding my hands. Hear their voices. Begging. And even though I feel my life draining my body, I hold on, for them. My visionís getting blurrier but somehow Iím still able to focus onto the brown eyes in front of me. Tears are streaming down his face and I can see the pain in his eyes. The loss already there like a big gaping wound. But thereís something else, determination, a promise. And I feel myself calming down, peace coming over me. Staring into his eyes I know my boys will be ok.
I let go of the last tiny string holding me in this life. Before the darkness
overwhelms me I hear Murdockís voice, whispering, and thick with tears. ďDonít
And I smile.
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