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TITLE:

Past

By:Viskey Utsadanas

 

RATING:†††††††† PG 13, for slash-references, but nothing really happens

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the A-Team and I don't make any profit with my writing

PAIRING:††††††† now thatís a tricky question to answer...

NOTES:††††††††† This is a sequel to ďSecond BestĒ, which is a lot slashier than this thing here. It starts out somewhat serious, but later on it has its funny moments. Just turned out that way. I was having a great Murdock-day. (little advice here: Write Murdock when youíre badly in need of some sleep, it works!)

WARNINGS:†† a bunch of drunken ex-soldiers

SUMMARY:†††† Murdock, Face and a fellow soldier from Nam reminiscing. Ok, they donít really do it voluntarily, but they start having their fun.

 

ĚĚĚĚĚĚĚĚĚĚĚĚĚĚĚĚ

 

 

INT. ††† DINER - DAY

 

We see DOLORES making a full turn in the diner; itís been smashed to pieces. We see broken furniture, scattered with broken dishes, napkins, silverware. Sheís looking distressed, almost desperate.

 

SIMON

(off screen)

Well, Dolly, looks like weíre out of business.

 

As DOLORES turns toward the voice, we cut to the entrance of the diner. A man (SIMON) and a teenager, app. 14 years old, (MARTY) stand in the doorway, both sporting bruises, SIMON has a bandaged arm, MARTY carries one arm in a sling.

 

DOLORES

We can... we...

 

SIMON

(Shaking his head firmly but gently)

No, Dolly. Weíre out of business.

This is no safe

place anymore and people know it. Robbed five times

in

less than five months. And it's not like theyíre just

taking the money.

(He gestures at the broken interior.)

 

DOLORES

We could... Marty, would you leave us alone for a couple of minutes?

 

She gives MARTY a look that does not allow arguing, MARTY leaves. DOLORES sits down on one of only few intact chairs.

 

DOLORES

We could still try to hire this A-Team.

 

SIMON

(determinedly)

No.

 

DOLORES

(desperate)

But why?

 

SIMON

I just donít think hiring a bunch of mercenaries

can solve our problems,

thatís why.

 

DOLORES

Surely *we* canít solve our problems either! (calmer)

Simon, donít

you see we need help?

 

DOLORES sighs quietly and gestures to the broken diner.

 

 

SIMON

Weíve been talking to the police, itís their job

to help us.

 

DOLORES

(angry)

Would be, yes. But theyíre doing nothing. All they do is filling

in a form for the insurance company,

thatís about it. They donít even

try to find the

bloody bastards who did this.

 

SIMON

(patiently, wincing)

Dolly, please stop cursing, you know I donít like it.

 

DOLORES

Iíll stop cursing the moment you get your ass up

and do something!

 

DOLORES gets up and goes to the kitchen to get a couple of waste-bags. She starts cleaning up.

 

 

 

 

INT.†††† LAUNDRY Ė DAY

 

HANNIBAL

(disguised)

Missy, you have nothing to clean, you leave shop.

 

DOLORES

But Mr. Denvers at the race track said I should

meet a Mr. Lee here...

today... now, actually.

 

HANNIBAL

(moving around, making himself busy)

Mr. Denvers, ey? Donít know no

Mr. Denvers. You got

nothing to clean, you leave shop.

 

DOLORES

Look, how about you clean this jacket? (takes off

her jacket and hands

it over)

 

HANNIBAL

But your jacket *is* clean.

 

DOLORES

Never mind, I want to have it cleaned.

 

HANNIBAL

(taking the jacket) Is your money. (handing her a

coupon) One hour.

 

DOLORES

Can I wait in here?

 

HANNIBAL

This a laundry, Missy, not a waiting room!

 

Dolores leaves.

 

Short black-out, a change of scene, Dolores re-enters the shop. HANNIBAL is gone;gone; thereís a young Chinese lady serving instead.

 

DOLORES

Excuse me, Iím looking for a Mr. Lee?

 

MISS WU

Sorry, thereís no one here of that name. Thereís

only a Mr. Wu, who

is my father, but heís on holiday.

 

Dolores sighs, pulls out her coupon to collect her jacket. Itís obvious sheís tired of this ďgameĒ.

 

DOLORES

How muchís that?

 

MISS WU

Itís already paid for, Maíam.

 

DOLORES

But...

 

MISS WU

Thatís what it says in the book.

 

MISS WU turns the book for DOLORES to have a look.

 

 

 

 

EXT. †† STREET - DAY

 

DOLORES

(cursing softly, just to herself)

Bloody A-Team. Who they think they are? Bloody CIA

or something?

Surely could match them.

 

DOLORES thrusts her hands into the pockets of her jacket. Then suddenly stops dead. She pulls a piece of paper out of her right hand pocket. It reads: ďCongratulations!Ē

 

DOLORES

What?!

 

DOLORES stares at the paper, realising what it could mean, then looks around herself. She notices HANNIBAL leaning against the lamp-post next to her car, smiling at her. When he sees that he has her attention, he pushes himself off the post and walks up to DOLORES.

 

HANNIBAL

Mrs. Lessing, I believe? My name is Hannibal Smith.

I have the great

pleasure to tell you that

you hired the A-Team just an hour ago.

 

DOLORES

(slightly confused)

An hour ago, but...

 

HANNIBAL

Mr. Lee was very impressed by you. (HANNIBAL smiles

and tucks a

cigar between his mouth and lights it) Can we go?

 

DOLORES

(shrugs)

Uhm, sure, sure.

 

 

 

 

EXT.††† DINER, PARKING LOT Ė DAY

 

Dolores parks her car, the A-Team-van pulls up right next to her The side door slides open and FACE and MURDOCK climb out.

 

HANNIBAL

Mrs. Lessing, may I introduce Templeton Peck (Face

nods politely and

smiles charmingly) and HM Murdock.

 

MURDOCK

(making a courteous bow)

The same, mílady.

 

BA comes around the front of the van and raises his fist at Murdock.

 

BA

Shut up fooí, youíre not Clark Gable or somthní!

 

HANNIBAL

(patient)

Not to forget BA Baracus.

 

BA nods shortly in DOLORESí direction.

 

DOLORES

(matter-of-factly)

And so you are the A-Team...

 

MURDOCK

(sweetly)

That is correct, mílady.

 

Heís making attempts to bow and kiss DOLORES on the hand but she pulls it away, staring at him, disconcerted by his strange behaviour.

 

FACE

(slightly unnerved)

Murdock, please.

 

DOLORES

(to HANNIBAL)

Well, maybe I should tell you what this is about,

first.

 

HANNIBAL

No need to, Mrs. Lessing. Weíre well informed. Your

diner has been

raided five times recently. You believe

itís always the same folks. Letís

just have a look at

the battle-field, then.

 

HANNIBAL turns on his heels and walks toward the diner. BA, FACE, MURDOCK, and DOLORES follow.

 

 

 

 

INT. ††† DINER - DAY

 

The inside of the diner is now pretty empty and clean. Only two tables and five chairs are arranged in a corner next to the counter. MARTY sits there, trying to repair a coffee-machine. Heís not doing too well with one arm in a sling. Parts and tools are scattered all across the table. MARTY looks up when he hears the group enter. When FACE sees the boy, a strange expression shows on his face, as if he remembered something. He canít quite take his eyes off the boy. Cross-cut between FACE and MARTY (who struggles with the machine and his sling) ending with a close-up on FACE, understanding dawning on him. He looks over to MURDOCK, who looks sort of arrogant, which is supposed to be ďnobleĒ. Picture going back to FACE, heís obviously feeling uneasy.

 

DOLORES

Marty, meet... (she stops, unsure of what to say)

 

BA

Weíre friends of your parents. Weíre gonna help

you get this mess fixed.

 

MARTY

Hi.

 

HANNIBAL nods in agreement, MURDOCK looks around ďnoblyĒ and FACE watches him doing so, feeling more and more uneasy.

 

Just then the door opens and SIMON enters. He obviously is in a bad mood. We see that he recognises the team at once. His attention is focused on FACE and MURDOCK, though.

 

SIMON

Dolly, havenít I told you...

 

DOLORES

Simon... (Dolores meaningfully shakes her head.

Simon shuts up.)

 

HANNIBAL

(noticing but choosing to ignore the interaction)

Mr. Lessing. Nice to meet you. May I introduce...

 

SIMON

(interrupting Hannibal)

That wonít be necessary.

 

We cut to FACE;FACE; he tenses visibly, although we see that heís doing his best to keep the facade up. Heís looking over to MURDOCK again. MURDOCK looks interested, but shows no sign of recognition.

 

DOLORES

Simon, please. Theyíre here to help us. Donít be

impolite.

 

HANNIBAL

(more carefully now)

I understand your wife hasnít let you in on her

plans?

 

SIMON

(a little frustrated)

 

Well, yes and no. She told me she planned to hire

the A-Team. She

did not tell me that she stuck

stuck to it, even after I said no.

 

BA

(looking at HANNIBAL first for reassurance)

Mr. Lessing... You *need* help, we *can* help.

 

HANNIBAL

If itís our fugitive status you object to, thatíll be our problem, but despite

the fact that we *are*fugitives, weíre not the bad guys, like you think.

 

close-ups on FACE (looking even more uneasy now), SIMON (looking uneasy *and* confused) and MURDOCK (still looking ďnobleĒ)

 

FACE

(with grim determination)

No, Hannibal, I donít think thatís it, or is

it Simon? Simon knows we are

no criminals, or so I

hope. I think this is something more... personal.

 

Simon grimaces and glares at FACE, but stays silent.

 

HANNIBAL

(rare, but it happens, confused)

Face?

 

FACE

Simon and I have met in Nam. There have been... Letís

say, things

have happened. Weíre not best friends, so

to say.

 

MURDOCK

(forgetting his antic for the moment)

Facey, donít tell me youíve pinched his girlfriend!

 

FACE

(angry and obviously hurt)

Donít tell me you donít remember!

 

HANNIBAL

(even more confused)

Murdock?

 

SIMON

Face, not now, not here. This is an old story that

doesnít need to

be warmed up.

 

FACE

(still angry)

Right.

 

MURDOCK

(with a big grin on his face)

Oh, but I *loved* the mess-tent!

 

Cut to FACE and SIMON. We can tell from their expressions, that thereís a deeper meaning to MURDOCKíS words, and they donít like it.

 

Cut to black

 

 

 

 

INT.†††† DINER - DAY

 

HANNIBAL is leaning against the counter, puffing on his cigar and looking from one man to another, waiting for an answer from somebody. BA stands at the side, also leaning against the counter, looking indifferent. FACE, SIMON and MURDOCK stand, forming an irregular triangle, looking everywhere but into the otherís faces.

 

Various close-ups, there is silence for a long while.

 

HANNIBAL

Face?

 

FACE

(his arms crossed, shaking his head with determination)

Uh-uh, Hannibal.

Iíve said too much already. I

should have kept my big mouth shut right from

the start.

 

HANNIBAL

Murdock?

 

MURDOCK

(very seriously, as if his answer would make sense. Which it does of

course, just not to Hannibal) Sir, the grass smelled real good. (short

pause, Murdock being lost in memory) Not to talk about the infirmary.

 

HANNIBAL

I guess you wonít tell me anything either, Mr.

Lessing, will you?

 

SIMON

Sorry. And honestly, Iíd appreciate it, if you left

me and my family alone.

 

MURDOCK

(slightly annoyed, giving up his ďnoblessĒ for the

first time, coming back into reality)

No way, Sim.

 

SIMON

(pleading for understanding)

Murdock...

 

MURDOCK

Sim, youíve got trouble, me and my friends are

experts in dealing

with trouble. I donít remember

you being stupid. Do you Facey?

 

FACE

(irritated with the whole situation already, gets even more irritated)

Murdock,

will you stop calling me Facey, please?

 

SIMON

Hey, guys. I know you want to help me... us. I

know you have but

the best intentions, but it

wouldnít be wise to...

 

HANNIBAL

(frustrated)

Ok, Iíve had enough of this. I want to know now,

once

and for all what happened thatís got you three so secretive! Face, take

this

as an order.

 

FACE is dropping his head and studies something on the floor, casting a suspicious look over at Murdock before he answers.

 

FACE

Simon, me and Murdock... we were... kind of

interested in the

same... thing.

 

HANNIBAL

(impatient, clearly not satisfied with that answer)

And?

 

MURDOCK

(straightening up, indignantly)

Thing?!

 

SIMON

(tensly)

Murdock, shut up!

 

MURDOCK

(angry)

You donít tell me to shut up, Sim! Not *you*!

 

FACE

(stress audible in his voice)

Shut up both of you!

 

Short silence, during which we see close-ups of the ďThreesomeĒ.

 

HANNIBAL

Ok, can we go on now?

 

FACE

Yeah, well... First Simon got it, then...

 

MURDOCK

...then Face got it. And I got it all along.

(he smiles broadly.) Iím

one lucky guy.

 

HANNIBAL

(he blinks, then shakes his head. This is presumably the longest

period of time heís ever been confused...)

I still donít know what

youíre all talking about.

 

SIMON

Itís irrelevant.

 

HANNIBAL

(to SIMON)

Not if it keeps you from accepting our help.

 

MURDOCK

Heís got a point there, Sim, ya know.

 

SIMON sighs. Many conflicting emotions show on his face, but he doesnít speak up. HANNIBAL stubs out his cigar in obvious frustration.

 

HANNIBAL

Ok, apparently youíd rather take fifty on your

back than tell me

anything. (staring at FACE,

then switching his attention to

MURDOCK) Murdock?

 

FACE

No, no, Hannibal, thatís not fair!

 

HANNIBAL

(slightly pissed) Oh, really?

 

FACE

Hannibal, Murdockís in bad shape these days.

You wonít take

advantage of this!

 

HANNIBAL

Why wouldnít I?

 

FACE

Because it concerns not only Murdock but also

me and... and

a civilian.

 

HANNIBAL

Civilian?

 

FACE

Yeah, well... sorta...

 

HANNIBAL

Ok, I have a deal for you: The three of you talk

it out. You have

two hours. BA, letís go.

 

HANNIBAL turns to leave, BA follows him.

 

FACE

(shouting after HANNIBAL) Make sure Dolores doesnít show up!

 

We see Hannibal nod to show he understood

 

There is an awkward silence, cuts of MURDOCK, FACE, and SIMON.

 

SIMON

(breaking the silence)

So?

 

FACE

So what?

 

SIMON

So, you *did* screw him?

 

FACE, MURDOCK (simultaneously)

I didnít *screw* him!

Nobody *screwed*me!

 

SIMON

(making soothing gestures)

Whoa, whoa, whoa, fellas. Cool it.

 

MURDOCK

(glaring at SIMON)

I donít like your language, Sim. Just remember

that I

donít screw anybody and that nobody screws

me. Not now and not never.

 

(MURDOCK stares SIMON down)

 

SIMON

Sorry, I guess Iíve been married to Dolly for too

long.

 

FACE

(clearing his throat, preparing for the task)

Now can we skip the insults

and talk sensibly?

 

MURDOCK

Facey, you *do* know who youíre talking to, do you?

 

FACE

(his patience wearing thin) Murdock, Iíve got absolutely *no* patience

for your

stupid games right now, understood?!

 

SIMON

Hey, I thought, weíd skip the insults?

 

MURDOCK

Yeah, Facey, skip the insults, donít yell at me!

 

FACE walks over to the group of tables and chairs. He sits down heavily, props his head up in his hands, and sighs.

 

FACE

(wearily)

Is there any chance an old army buddy gets anything to drink?

 

SIMON

You havenít changed a bit,

Faceman. Still taking advantage of just

any situation, arenít you?

 

MURDOCK

Stop knocking Faceyman down!

 

FACE

(sort of rhetorically, muttering)

Thanks, Murdock, but I can still speak for myself.

 

SIMON

I was *not* knocking him down! Heís just what he is

and what

heís always been!

 

FACE

Can we please stop talking about *me*and start

talking about *us*?

 

MURDOCK sits down on a chair opposite of FACE.

 

MURDOCK

Sure, Facey, sure.

 

FACE

(close to exploding) And do stop calling me Facey, godda- (he bites off

the rest of the phrase just in time, banging a fist on the table. He pauses,

to regain control over himself and goes on carefully) Just donít,

Murdock, ok?

Donít. Not *now*.

 

MURDOCK

(with a sigh, not overly sorry though)

ĎKay, Faceman, sorry.

 

SIMON

Now, can we move on to the subject?

 

SIMON sits down too now, they form an irregular triangle again.

 

FACE

(shrugs)

Sure.

 

MURDOCK

Face?

 

FACE

What?

 

MURDOCK

What is the subject?

 

FACE

Us! Didnít you pay attention?

 

MURDOCK

All right, all right, no need to yell at me

again!

 

SIMON

STOP! This is not gonna work this way.

 

FACE

(letting out a frustrated sigh)

For once I agree with you.

 

MURDOCK

(confused)

Whatís not gonna work?

 

FACE

(forcing himself to patience) Murdock, I know youíve had a rough week,

but

please, can you come to live in *our* reality for a

just a couple of

hours? Hannibalís gonna eat our

heads, if we donít come to a solution.

 

SIMON

Uhm, Face, short side-track-question: Isnít this all futile? I mean, look

at him, he canít even *think* straight. Howís he supposed to be able

to fight

straight?

 

MURDOCK

(angry and hurt that heís being ignored) Donít talk as if I werenít here!

 

FACE

(ignoring Murdock) It doesnít matter which way he thinks, whether

itís

straight or in circles. Heíll do fine, when we need

him to.

 

MURDOCK

(ironically, still hurt a bit, but obviously liking FACEís explanation)

Thanks, Facey, that was really nice of you.

Ė Oops, sorry, *Face*.

 

FACE

Never mind. Can we get through with this now? Timeís

ticking away.

 

 

SIMON nods an takes a deep breath. He crosses his arms before his chest, uneasy with what heís saying next.

 

 

SIMON

Ok. So... First things first: Weíre all hetero... we

are, arenít we?

 

MURDOCK and FACE both nod eagerly.

 

SIMON

Then there shouldnít be any problem.

 

FACE angrily jumps up from his seat and starts pacing the empty room for a short while.

 

FACE

That easy, huh? First you make one hell of an affair

about it and

now it ďshouldnít be a problemĒ. Youíre just something, you know that?!

 

 

MURDOCK

(surprisingly calm)

Sim ainít some*thing*, Face. If anything, then

heís

some*body*.

 

SIMON

Thanks, darliní, but itís ok.

 

FACE gives both SIMON and MURDOCK a meaningful look.

 

 

FACE

(gloating) All hetero, are we?

 

SIMON & MURDOCK

(In unison) What?

 

FACE

You call *all* your buddies ďdarlinĒ?

 

SIMON

(blushing) Old manners die hard, I guess.

 

MURDOCK

Yeah, they indeed do, babe.

 

FACE

(distressed that SIMON and MURDOCK are not taking it seriously enough)

Would you stop this, please?

 

FACE resumes his agitated pacing, cut to MURDOCK and SIMON

 

 

MURDOCK

Sorry.

 

FACE

(stopping in his tracks, turning to the other two, walking up to the table

and sitting down, while he speaks)

Ok, putting the facts on the table: Simon,

 

youíd been having your fling with Murdock, and when you

dropped him Ė sorry Ė

left him for very honourable

reasons... (SIMON starts snickering, FACE glares

at him) I *mean* that! Anyway, after that and a while I got to have *my* fling.

Thatís the facts. Anything anybody would like to add?

 

SIMON and MURDOCK just shake their heads, stunned by FACEís bluntness.

 

FACE

Good. Anyone in this room want to have... sex

with anyone else

in this room?

 

MURDOCK

(giving the impersonation of a blushing schoolgirl, dropping his eyes

to the table) Heís talking about me, babe...

 

SIMON

Thanks for the hint, darliní, wouldnít have figured

it out on my own.

 

FACE

(Leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms)

Care to answer my

question or shall I go, leaving you to your foreplay?

 

 

That remark earns FACE a playful slap from MURDOCK, but then he shakes his head

 

MURDOCK

Not me, Faceyman.

 

SIMON

Me neither. I have my wife, thanks a lot. And...

 

FACE

She shall not find out about your... escapades back in Nam, right?

 

SIMON

Well, what do you think? Of course not! Imagine

you were married.

Would you tell her about him?

 

MURDOCK

Hey, itís not like Iím some sort of disease, ok?

 

FACE relaxes a little, he reaches over to Murdock and reassuringly pats his shoulder

 

 

FACE

(gently) Nobodyís comparing you to any disease, Murdock. (to SIMON,

a little sharper) It was a rhetoric question, Simon. You

know, when you

donít really expect an answer...

 

SIMON

Still the same old smartass.

 

MURDOCK

(pointedly) And when Dolores swears, you scold her.

 

SIMON

(perplexed)

How you know that?

 

MURDOCK

I just do.

 

SIMON

(to FACE, still perplexed) Howís he know that?

 

FACE

(stifling a triumphant grin) Thatís what he gets out of thinking in

circles.

Can we come back to the subject?

 

SIMON

Sure. So what do we do?

 

MURDOCK

Well, itís obvious. We gotta make up a story. We have to give Hannibal

 

Ė and Dolores too Ė something theyíll believe. Since we canít very
well

serve with the truth, as we all agree on, we have
to think somethiní up.

Somethiní good.

 

FACE

OK, so what was it I said? We all wanted the same

thing.

 

MURDOCK

(giving FACE a look) Thing! Iím not sure I can ever forgive you that.

 

FACE

And I said that first you had it (pointing at

SIMON) before I got it. And

Murdock was having it

all along, as he couldnít stop himself pronouncing.

(FACE moans and props up his face with his hands, speaking on wearily)

Oh, Murdock, why couldnít you have kept your mouth shut? It would be a

lot easier to find something.

 

MURDOCK
But itís so simple. It was a girl we all wanted.

 

SIMON

Nice, but Dolly would kill me. Theoretically we

were together then.

She wouldnít like me having

messed with another woman.

 

MURDOCK

(pointedly again)

Let alone man.

 

SIMON

Or that.

 

FACE

But Murdockís right. A girl is the only thing that

makes sense. I mean,

we wouldnít have gotten into a

fight over a... a car or something.(giving

SIMON a challenging look) Iím afraid, ďbabeĒ,

youíre gonna have to go

through this. After all, had

you just accepted our help, none of this would

have

happened.

 

SIMON

And had you, only for once, kept your big mouth shut,

we wouldnít be

here either.

 

 

Murdock doesnít bother these accusations much but smiles, satisfied with himself.

 

 

MURDOCK

Only I am innocent.

 

FACE

(leniently) Youíre a loon, loons canít be found guilty, even if

they are.

 

MURDOCK

Are you insinuating something, baby?

 

FACE

(with an innocent smile, and glinting eyes) Me? No, never, sweet,

why would I?

 

SIMON

Can it be this discussion runs out of control a

little bit?

 

MURDOCK

Simís right, Facey. Weíd better hurry in creating

that girl.

 

FACE

Why not just take one who really existed? Like Linh?

 

MURDOCK

But she was only a kid then!

 

 

 

FACE

(shrugs) So what? Who apart from us knows? We add a few

years, a few

inches, a few pounds... in the right

places. Voilŗ!Voilŗ! We already know all

the details. And

those that we donít know anymore, we just donít know

anymore. Heck, itís been 15 years.

 

SIMON

(suddenly serious) 17. Two more years for me. Or less, depending

on

the point of view. (he looks sadly at Murdock) How

could they

keep you there?

 

MURDOCK

They didt keep me, babe. I stayed.

 

SIMON

Just how *could* you? Youíve seen so many men die.

Youíve almost

seen me die.

 

FACE

Well, that was rather me, if I recall that correctly.

 

SIMON

Donít be petty now, Face!

 

FACE

(voice dripping with sarcasm) Sorry, hero.

 

MURDOCK

Hey, donít start a fight now. Weíve been getting

along so well just now.

 

FACE

(immediately stepping down)

Alright, alright.

 

SIMON

(changing subject to get off the proverbial mine-field) Ah... Iíll go, see if

thereís something to drink in the kitchen. Anyone go for a beer?

 

 

MURDOCK

SureĎd love to.

 

FACE

If itís not too cold.

 

 

 

 

INT. DINER Ė EVENING

 

HANNIBAL enters the diner, BA and DOLORES following. The Threesome are sitting at the table, there are several empty bottles standing and lying on the table and the floor. They have drunk quite a lot, assuming the time. Accordingly the people entering are fairly pissed.

 

HANNIBAL

So, I see youíve had fun. Did you talk it out,

or just drowned it?

 

FACE

(looking up, and grinning stupidly)

Hey, Hanni. Wanna have a beer?

I guess thereís

one more bottle somewhere...

 

MURDOCK

(belching soundly) Shouldnít have drunk it all. Donít go too well

with

my medication, docs say.

 

FACE

(patiently)

Murdock, youíre not on any medication.

 

MURDOCK
Iím not? Oh, what a stroke of luck. Babe, see if you can

find that bottle

Face mentioned.

 

SIMON

Donít get cross with me, but look for yourself. My

eyes donít work

too good at the moment. (he widens his eyes, like checking his vision,

then closes them tightly)

 

DOLORES

Simon! Whatís all this about?!

 

SIMON

(calm due to too much beer)

Doní worry, dear, itís alright. Everythingís

just

fine.

 

MURDOCK

Yeah, Dolly, dear. Weíre just celebrating our reunion.

(he gives her a big, grin)

 

SIMON

Exactly.

 

DOLORES eyes her husband, not sure what to make of him. Then the other two, not sure what to make of them either.

 

 

FACE

Anyone wanna join in? But thereís only this one

bottle left... I donít know...

Guys, we wanna share

this bottle?

 

MURDOCK

Only between the three of us.

 

SIMON

Yeah, after all, itís *our* reunion, not theirs.

 

HANNIBAL shakes his head, then turns to BA and DOLORES.

 

HANNIBAL

Whatever your problem is, Dolores, we canít start

work before

tomorrow. I guess you can see why... (he thumbs at the Threesome)

 

DOLORES

(confused by the situation)

I... I donít understand... Simonís not a drinker,

usually.

 

BA

Weíre all different in Nam. It catches up

to him now. Heíll be ok by

tomorrow morning.

 

HANNIBAL

Yeah, not counting one hell of a hangover.

 

HANNIBAL and BA chuckle as they leave with DOLORES. FACE, MURDOCK and SIMON remain.

 

SIMON

(to MURDOCK) Hey, darliní, maybe if you help me

looking, I think I

got some more bottles somewhere down the

basement.

 

MURDOCK and SIMON get up, steadying each other on their way to the basement door, stumbling through the empty room.

 

FACE

If you donít come back within the hour, I know

what to think of you.

Heteros, yeah, sure.

 

All three snicker at that, SIMON and MURDOCK having momentary problems to snicker and walk at the same time, but soon they precede. FACE lifts a bottle and empties it. Fade to black.

 

 


Past by Viskey

 

 


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