Chapter 12 and Epilogue

Warnings: None

See chapter 1 for disclaimers and further information.

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A chill breeze blowing through the glass veranda doors woke Alexandre Clemente from a pleasant dream in which he had the largest collections in the world and armies of servants to maintain them.

Rolling over, he tried to ignore the breeze, but finally, muttering curses, he laboriously got out of bed and went to close the doors. His memory must be getting worse, he decided. He could have sworn he had closed them before he went to bed.

As his hand rested on the latch, he froze, feeling the cold barrel of a gun pressing into the back of his neck.

"Move and all this nice furniture around us will need a thorough cleaning," a cold voice said from the darkness behind him. "But I don't think blood comes out very well, so I suggest you do exactly as I tell you."

"Who are you, and how did you get in here?" Clemente asked in a hoarse voice that he still managed to make demanding.

The barrel of the gun was removed and a light flicked on in the room. Clemente turned and saw a silver haired man dressed almost completely in black staring back at him over the barrel of the gun.

"Who I am is of no importance, but if you must know, I'm Hannibal Smith, of the A-Team." He cocked his head as if waiting for Clemente to recognize the name.

He wrinkled his brow, thinking. It did sound familiar, but...he jerked his eyes back to the face of the man who held him at gunpoint. "You are the leader of the unit Captain Murdock was associated with in Vietnam. Aren't you also on the run from the United States government? For robbing a bank, I think it was?" He cocked his head arrogantly, but inside he was seething. Caught by a common criminal.

Smith smiled. "Yes, and Captain Murdock happens to be a good friend of my team." His voice, though conversational, was still soft and deadly and his smile failed to reach his eyes. "As for how I got in here, simple. I walked in. You are so pompously certain you are in control of everything, your security is lousy."

Clemente laughed. "Lousy, eh? Well, not so lousy as to not have a security camera in my bedroom." He pointed to the camera mounted on the wall. "Before I can say 'Boo' my men will be all over you."

"Ha!" Smith exclaimed in contempt. "How do you think I found you?"

If possibly, the intruder's smile grew even more mocking as he glanced at the camera and reached into a pocket for a cigar. A feeling of uneasiness grew in Clemente's mind as he watched Smith bite off the end, spitting it out on the carpet. Where were his men anyway? There was no way a single man could take out his entire security system. Was there?

He breathed a sigh of relief as a key sounded in the lock of his bedroom door. Smith swung around at the sound, but turned back quickly. Striding across the room, he grabbed hold of Clemente's arm and held the gun to the side of his neck. Clemente stiffened and watched as the door opened.

His chief of security, Howard Plankton, walked hesitantly into the room, his face going deathly white when he saw Smith with a gun to his master's neck. Then, from behind Plankton, a blonde haired man stepped out, the gun in his hand pointing steadily at the security chief.

The weapon at Clemente's neck was removed, and Smith moved around to stand in front of him once more. Reaching into the pocked of his coat, he withdrew a lighter.

"Hi, Face," he said, lighting the cigar. "What took you so long?" Clemente coughed as the cigar smoke drifted into his face.

"I ran into some trouble," the man identified as Face said, indicating Plankton with his gun. "However, I did manage to make some important discoveries before he showed up." He dumped a battered leather jacket on the bed that Clemente recognized as having come from his office. All blood drained from his face as a stack of papers and a leather bound book followed the jacket onto the bed.

"Guess who was careless enough to keep careful records of all illegal activities and a journal chronicling atrocities done to other human beings in a simple safe under his desk."

Smith laughed out loud, removing the cigar. "I love it. He's so overconfident..." He broke off as the door to the bedroom opened again and a battered and bloodied Forbes stumbled in, followed by an enormous black man, and...Captain Murdock.

Clemente closed his eyes briefly in disgust. "Well," he snapped, "This room is becoming a regular zoo." Glaring at Plankton and Forbes, he growled, "What did I hire you for, your looks?"

"Welcome to the party, guys," Smith said smugly. "I was so hoping you could make it."

"We had a bit of..." the black man began, glancing hesitantly at Murdock, "...trouble," he finished. The pilot did not seem to have noticed the glance. His gaze was locked on Clemente.

Silence fell over the room as Clemente met Murdock's gaze. The pilot's entire demeanor seemed distant and unattached. He moved slowly until he was directly in front of Clemente. The three intruders seemed to hold their breath, and the black man looked ready to spring forward at a moment's notice. Murdock seemed completely unaware of his friends' reactions, however.

Clemente noticed that the pilot's face was covered with half healed cuts and bruises. He couldn't help the feeling of malevolent triumph that flashed through him, but he kept his face gentle and a bit sad.

"Murdock, Murdock," the old man said, a father mourning the fact that his child has disobeyed again. Murdock didn't even blink, and Clemente continued. "I offered you the world - a job following your heart's desire, the opportunity to make use of your skills, and a sanctuary where you would never have to conform to the world's biased standards ever again. Yet you have rejected my gifts and rebelled against me time and time again."

Still Murdock didn't move, but was that a hint of doubt in his eyes? Clemente hurried on, praying that some of Forbes' conditioning remained. "I tried to make you see, to discipline you as a father would his child, but..." Then Murdock moved.

Clemente didn't even see the fist that collided with his face quicker than a striking serpent. Stars exploded behind his eyes, and darkness claimed him.

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"Captain, are you okay?" Hannibal asked softly, breaking the intense silence in the room. His friends watched in trepidation as the pilot turned slowly to face them, shaking his right hand from the force of the blow. There was a look of wonder on his face, and, slowly, his lips turned upward into a smile of genuine relief.

"Yeah, Colonel. I think I'm going to be just fine." He looked back at the unconscious form of the old man behind him. Clemente looked strangely frail and harmless lying there.

He shook his head as he felt the haze that had settled on him when he entered the room begin to lift away. "What are we going to do now, Colonel?"

Hannibal looked around at their three captives and a slow smile began to form on his lips. "Call in the clean-up crew, of course, and repay a favor at the same time."

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Epilogue

Murdock sat on the windowsill of his room and looked out at the grounds below. From this vantage point, he could see the work underway to remove the rubble and rebuild the psychiatric wing.

Until the new wing was completed, some of the patients had been moved to a psychiatric hospital on the other side of the city. The remaining patients were currently housed in the medical wing of the VA hospital where Murdock had spent the past month, recovering from his ordeal.

Turning his eyes to the main parking lot, he watched as a green military sedan pulled out. He grinned as he remembered his encounter with Decker, one of many that had occurred over the past few weeks.

The colonel had wheedled, pleaded, demanded, and tried to trick Murdock into revealing the exact nature of his relationship with the Team as well as their current location. He still did not know for sure if Murdock was a working member of the team or just an old friend whom they visited occasionally and watched out for.

Despite the fact that he had helped the team by letting them know Murdock was alive, the colonel was now stepping up his efforts to catch them. It was almost as though Decker was trying to make up for his moment of weakness. Perhaps he was also trying to forget the fact that if it hadn't been for a midnight phone call from the Team, he would never have found Clemente or solved the mystery of the VA bombing.

'Strange,' Murdock thought, 'he has not once questioned my sanity or my right to be here since this happened.' Then again, maybe it wasn't so strange. After all, Decker had most likely seen Clemente's journal account of what had happened to Murdock. He probably thought that if the pilot hadn't belonged in the VA before all this had happened, he did now.

Murdock sighed. Maybe he was right. The sessions with Dr. Richter since his escape had been intense and painful, and the nightmares were even worse. However, he did feel as though he was making some progress.

It helped to know that Clemente and all those voluntarily associated with his operation, including Forbes and Plankton, had been successfully extradited into the United States where they now awaited trial. Decker had assured him that there was more than enough evidence to put them all away for a long time.

The rest of Clemente's 'employees,' primarily those there under circumstances similar to Murdock's had been questioned and released. Murdock had wanted to ask about Ed, but dealing with Decker at this stage in the game was tricky enough and he had to limit his moments of sanity. He hoped that Ed was okay and that wherever the small mechanic was, he had found some help navigating the labyrinth of emotions and memories that Murdock himself now struggled with. Absently he rubbed at a scar on his arm, a remnant of the injuries he had received both before and during his escape. Eventually, most of the marks would fade. They would never be completely gone, but at least they would be less visible. Maybe, given time, the emotional scars would fade as well.

His eyes brightened as he saw a distinctive white convertible with a red stripe pull into the parking lot. A man in a white coat got out and hurried into the building.

He had not seen any of the Team since they had brought him back to the hospital after making sure Clemente and his goons were going to be taken care of. He had really begun to miss them, even though he had been overjoyed to return to the VA. The month of grueling therapy was beginning to wear on him and he could feel the familiar tingles of restlessness that came when he was cooped up in the VA for too long.

Minutes later, Face swept into the room, a flustered and protesting nurse in tow. The conman was talking so quickly she couldn't follow him, and, very soon, her signature was on the appropriate documents, and Murdock was walking out of the hospital with his best friend.

"So, where we going now, Faceguy," Murdock asked cheerfully, leaping over the side of the convertible with his almost recovered catlike grace. Face deliberately ignored an offense that usually would have earned Murdock a chewing out.

"We're going to meet Hannibal and BA at the airport," he said climbing into the driver's seat and starting the car. He didn't notice the pilot still and look at him with doubt in his eyes.

"The airport?" Murdock asked carefully.

"Yep." Face gave a small laugh. "BA threw a royal fit when we learned the job Hannibal wants us to take is in Colombia. We were barely able to sedate him. He was threatening to come over here and strangle you himself so we couldn't fly."

Murdock smiled. At least things with BA were back to normal. Neither of them had said anything to the others about what had occurred in Forbes' torture chamber, and they never would. However, this time, he almost wished he could side with BA.

Face must have noticed his friend's lack of enthusiasm, because he turned worried eyes from the road to look Murdock up and down. "Murdock, are you...I mean..." He stopped and turned back to the road, jerking the car back into the center of the lane. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he struggled to find the words he wanted to say.

Murdock remained silent for a moment. He had wondered how he would deal with this when it came up. He looked down at his hands and fingered the small scar on the back of his left hand where the dog had bitten him. It was almost gone. Looking up, he turned to Face with a smile, "I'm doing okay, Faceman."

Face turned to look at him again, his eyes filled with doubt, but whatever he saw on Murdock's face must have appeased him, for he gave a slight nod and returned his attention to the traffic around them. Murdock let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

There was silence in the car for a few minutes before Murdock asked idly, "So, what kind of job requires flying to Colombia?" The small knot of fear had returned, and he allowed his mind to wander as Face began to explain about some local farmers who were being terrorized by a drug lord.

He had not flown anything since Clemente's planes. He didn't know why that should affect him, but he didn't know if he could ever look at a plane in the same way again. Before he could sort his feelings out, however, Face was turning into the airport parking lot and Hannibal was racing toward them.

"What took you so long? I think we were spotted on the way over here. Help me get BA on the plane and let's get out of here.

Murdock forgot his doubts as he raced to the Lear Jet standing on the runway. Climbing up the stairs and into the cockpit, he turned on the engines and contacted the tower for permission to take off.

He heard Hannibal yell, "Go, Murdock!"

As he lined the plane up with the runway, he saw the military sedans quickly approaching. As he opened the throttle, the plane began to move down the runway, quickly picking up speed.

As Murdock felt the wheels leave the ground, a strange feeling came over him. Suddenly, he knew that everything was going to be all right. Taking a deep breath, he let out a howl, as the plane rose into the sky.

The End

A/N – And so we reach the end. Thanks to all of you who have been reviewing. It was my pleasure to entertain you. To the rest of you who have been reading, if this story pleased you, I would love to hear from you. Until next time…Beware the jazz and embrace the crazy.