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Flight of the Phoenix
Rated: R (hope that's right)
Warnings: Mentions of torture and occurring mental problems. Please note this story has a slight surreal atmosphere in later chapters, hope that doesn't bug anyone.
Summary: Sometimes things aren't always what they seem. As the team takes a break from Stockwell a shocking discovery leads to demons being unmasked and faced head on. The team's trust in themselves and each other are pushed to the limit, when they find these demons in their midst.
Disclaimer: I don't own the A-team. If I did would I be wiping my ass clean with a smooth river rock?
Comments: Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes ,yes ,yes ,yes ,yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes ,yes ,yes ,yes ,yes, yes, yes, yes *deep breath* yes, yes, yes, yes, yes ,yes ,yes ,yes ,yes, yes, yes, yes and once again YES!!!!
"I'm getting rather fed up with this, Smith" General Stockwell growled, his eyes burnt with demonic fires which the devil himself could not rival.
"This is no joke," Stockwell paced the length of the dinning room, his hands clasped firmly behind his back and his demon eyes flickering every now and then at Hannibal, who was in cavalier fashion situated in one of the dinning room seats; his feet propped up on the long polished table.
"I figured as much," Hannibal knew he was treading on thin ice, his 'General' was positively livid, well after blowing up an entire factory and nearly screwing up with the last three missions he couldn't actually blame the fat-head now could he?
"That is the third mission you've nearly ruined with your-your… adrenaline rushed frolics!"
Well, maybe just a little.
"They are called 'plans', Stockwell. Come on say it with me; plans"
froze, his body was rigid, his shoulders were straight and though
Something Colonel John Smith would dearly lament.
'One brain celled hooligan,' he thought while watching Stockwell with a hawk's eye. "I'll give, please talk to me! What troubles have I bestowed upon you today?" he drawled in a near perfect British accent,
'I think Murdock's getting to me' he thought.
"You are as crazy as that damned pilot!" the man spun around, his eyes cold and dead, his body tense; somebody was going to pay and Hannibal got the distinct feeling he was the one in the line of fire.
like to think so, but you see"
"You should be!" he suddenly barked, his face shifting a dark shade of red. "Your ideas are insane and ludicrous at best! They have no tactic what so ever! How is it possible you survived for so long without ending up in wheelchair?"
The grin broadened further across Hannibal's features; "Guess I'm just lucky,"
can't be the sergeant," Stockwell muttered gradually settling himself in a
dinning room chair about two seats down from
"Peck, now there is and indispensable little snake, he can wriggle himself into anything that counts and get out of anything that bugs him. He is a walking tooth paste commercial! And yet still he can fight with the best and still manage to not wrinkle his damn suit!"
How the wheel turns.
"I don't know how your team members can stand Murdock though," The General abruptly sprang up and resumed his incensed pacing. He seemed on edge, but that last statement was enough to prick even Hannibal's interests.
"What's that suppose to mean?" he asked against his better judgement.
Stockwell stopped again, but his demeanour was far more tranquil than before. "What does you're second in command dream at night, Colonel?"
"I think you already know the answer, why bother going all the way upstairs if I can get an answer from the one sitting in front of me?"
'You would have made a great interrogator, you over grown cockroach'
was in Stockwell's court now and he wasn't letting one opportunity slip to get
And it did;
"Nightmares," A faint hint of a smile crept onto the general's faēade, "Yes, Colonel screaming in terror nightmares, the stuff that fears are made of. And have you ever asked yourself why?"
"What do nightmares have to with my Captain?"
"It has everything to do with your pilot, now answer me; have you ever asked why?"
"No," he finally said.
"Prisoner of War," The man smiled even further, obviously enjoying the rage now obvious in Hannibal's eyes.
"You can not blame Murdock for what happened to them!"
"I can't? Tell me who was the one who flew you in? Who finally snapped in the camps and had all but disappeared into his selfish little shell, isn't that what happened… Colonel?"
Smith was on Stockwell in a flash. He pinned the General against the hard wooden wall, his breathing hard and quick, and his temper flying into the heavens. Stockwell was going to die today.
couldn't help himself!"
"But nothing!" The general snapped, "He had as good as abandoned you, he lost trust in you Colonel he didn't believe in you anymore and isn't it after the POW camps that BA 'conjured' his fear of flying?"
Slowly, but surely the death grip on the generals clothing was released, Hannibal felt sick all of a sudden, but refused to stand down completely.
"Yes, I believe the truth is starting to seep in?"
"Why are you doing this?" Smith finally croaked, the pain tearing his strong and steeled heart to pieces.
"Because we all need to face reality some times," Stockwell grinned and quietly made his way to the exit of the dinning room, "Even the crazy ones" and the door slammed shut.
long he stood there only time would tell, but
nightmares were becoming progressively more horrific and though
sighed, was it really HM's fault that Face wasn't sleeping? Was it the goofy
pilot's fault that the chopper had crashed in that area? They had all seen what
he could do with a beat up chopper so why couldn't he save them on that day?
Murdock had finally snapped and pulled in on himself, desperately trying to find some fantasy world he could frolic in; in short HM had abandoned them.
He was trying to hide from his team, behind goofy faces and a playful gesture was a man forcing himself to hide from people he didn't trust anymore, but did he have a right to trust them? If everyone blamed HM, why should he trust anyone?
many questions and too little answer,"
Did Murdock blame himself?
To be continued
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