DARKNESS

It is recommended that you first read Amanda's "In The Darkness & The Light" before reading this story, which was inspired by Amanda's story.

                                    In Darkness


         "Oh God, no! Please, no more," H.M. Murdock whispered.  He squeezed
 his eyes closed as tightly as he could.  He couldn't let them know that he
 had returned to consciousness.  Whenever he woke from the stupor the
 doctors kept him in, they almost immediately gave him another injection
 which sent him spinning, once more, into the abyss with his nightmares!
 The nightmares had become a part of him.  They were the hell that was his
 world now.
         Just after he had arrived at this hospital, Murdock had been truely
 unable to tell the difference between what was real and what was not real.
 But slowly, over the nearly four months that he had been confined to this
 hospital in Thailand, he had managed to draw a fine, but often movable,
 line between the real and the surreal.
         At least he was able to do so when he was awake.  Asleep was a
 different story.  And, for most of his confinement, the doctors had kept
 him in a world where only his dreams lived.  And his dreams were slowly
 eating him alive.
         Little by little, Murdock had managed to discover what had happened
 to his friends, Colonel Hannibal Smith, Lieutenant Templeton Peck and
 Sergeant BA Baracus.   They had been charged with robbery and treason, and
 were in the process of being tried by the military back in the United
 States.
         Even to think about his Unit, even to let his mind hold a thought
 of his friends being tried for a crime they had never committed, and
 Murdock could feel the shift in the wavy line of his personal reality.
 Shadows danced from the corners where he tried to keep them at bay.  Never,
 in his waking moments, did he willingly let his mind approach that subject
 for fear of what might happen.
         This and many other things that had happened at the end of the war,
 had finally pushed H.M. Murdock over the edge and into a nervous breakdown.
 That is how he had ended up in this Bangkok hospital.  The pilot sometimes
 remembered the POW camps where he had been held.  This hospital now easily
 became confused with those camps in the nightmares.
         Over the time he had been here, Murdock could not remember being
 allowed outside the building where he was housed.  In fact, he had to
 concentrate to remember being unstrapped from his bed.  Such necessities as
 a toilet or water to wash in, were things of the past.  Now that he thought
 about it, he couldn't really remember the last time he had been fed real
 food.  But he felt no hunger.  That, too, was a thing of the past.
         His eyes refused to focus and the light from the fluorescent bulbs
 overhead made it impossible not to squint.  The straps that bound his arms
 to the bed were no longer tight around his wrists.  If he had the strength,
 he could have easily slipped out of the restraints.  But he hardly had the
 energy left to breath, let alone pull his arms free!  Malnutrition had
 taken its toll.
         And, by some sixth sense, he knew that was exactly what his
 watchers intended.  They wanted him out of the way.  He was the only person
 now alive who knew that those men...his friends...his Unit, were innocent
 of the charges against them.  He was a liability to the military, and his
 life was now meaningless.  He had no one to look for him if he did not
 return from this corner of the world.  He would become just another
 forgotten casuality of this meaningless war.
         A nurse walked by.  Oh God!  It was Callahan.  She was the worst.
 She never hit the patients where it could be seen, but her cruelty and
 ability to inflict pain on her charges was well-known among both the
 patients and the staff.  She stopped beside him.  Murdock was in such
 terror that it was nearly impossible to breath.
         Pretend! Pretend you're still asleep!  Maybe she'll leave and, this
 time, maybe she won't hurt you!
         "So.  You're awake."
         It was a tear!  One tiny, unbidden, uncalled-for tear had escaped
 from beneath his closed eyes and trickled back toward his ear!
         "It's about time!  You need a bath.  You stink!
         Her sweet, cloying smell was sickening.  She unfastened the shackle
 from around his left wrist, and began to strip the filthy shirt from his
 body.  He lay, completely limp, and she pulled him upright by his hair,
 holding his body up while she pulled the shirt off.
         Callahan pushed a relatively clean shirt into his left hand.  "Put
 it on," she ordered.  But, try as he might, Murdock could not manage to
 slip the shirt around his thin shoulders.  His numbed fingers refused to
 hold the course material, and his right arm was still bound to the bed,
 useless.
         "I'm sorry," he whispered, as the shirt slid to the floor.
         Callahan snatched the shirt up and pushed his thin arm into the
 sleeve.  She rebuckled the bindings which held him, and then repeated the
 operation with the shirt on his right side.  The entire time, she pulled
 him up by his hair if he started to slip backwards, away from her and back
 down into the filthy bed.
         When she had finished, she casually rested her thumb under his
 breast-bone.  Murdock knew what was coming.  He tried to prepare himself,
 but that was impossible. She began to push and, before long, Murdock could
 no longer take a breath without the terrible pain caused by her thumb
 digging up and under his breast bone and into his diaphragm.  He knew, like
 so many times before, that he would pass out from lack of oxygen very soon.
 And, after having been through this so many times before, he knew what she
 would do to him while he was unconscious.  The pain was unbearable as her
 thumb pushed deeper and deeper into his chest.  Mercifully, the abyss, and
 his nightmares,  claimed him before much longer.
         It was several hours before he awoke.  The dreams, the nightmares,
 fluttered behind his eyes like the flapping of vulture wings.  When he was
 conscious enough to form a thought, he knew that Callahan had raped him
 again.  His entire body ached, and he didn't have the strength left to even
 open his eyes.
         Unexpectedly, he felt sick, and began to retched.  There was
 nothing for his stomach to empty.  He had been too long without food of any
 kind.  The pain of his heaves, the pain left by Callahan's thumb pressing
 into his diaphragm, and the sickening-sweet odor of her which still clung
 to his body, and Murdock passed out once again.  This time, he welcomed the
 nightmares.

         He could feel his consciousness gathering.  Maybe the nightmares
 would be better than having to wake up to reality again.  These people were
 keeping his body alive.  What did it matter if he wasn't there with it?
 The nightmares were unspeakable, but, sometimes they were far better than
 this reality.  He had the choice.  He knew that there only remained a few
 tattered threads holding the reality of this life together.  It would be so
 easy just to snap the threads and be free.  Why not?  There was no reason
 left for him to keep fighting.  His Unit was gone.  He was alone.  At
 least, with his nightmares, his friends would return.  For they had lived
 some of the nightmares, also.
         He held the frayed ribbon of reality in his dream hands.  It would
 be so easy.  Just one tug.  One strong pull and there would be eternal
 madness, eternal insanity, eternal escape!
         And then, he smelled it!
         During his confinement in this Bangkok hospital, Murdock had
 noticed how strongly his self-preservation and animal instincts had taken
 over.  His hearing was acute. He could tell which doctor or nurse was on
 duty just by their footsteps.  He could smell the difference in a doctor in
 a good mood and one in a bad mood.
         And what he smelled now was a friend!  He knew that there was
 someone coming toward his bed, and whoever it was, had come to help him!
 Whoever it was, only had his safety in mind.
         Murdock struggled to open his eyes, the frayed ribbon of reality
 suddenly becoming stronger in his hands.  Into his unfocused vision came
 the image of a huge black man.  The smell of a friend.  BA Baracas!
         That damn tear!  The same one that had given him away when Callahan
 had come for him.  That damn tear rolled from the corner of his eye and
 slid, almost tickling, into his ear.  It was followed by a sob he couldn't
 stop.
         Murdock closed his eyes, but felt BA loosen the restraints and
 gently pick up his gaunt, malnourished body.  And then, the sobs started in
 earnest!  As BA marched purposfully from the hospital with Murdock in his
 arms, the Captain had only enough strength left to sob silently in his
 friends arms!
         The sun was too bright, but he managed to squint his eyes enough to
 make out Templeton Peck sitting in the drivers seat of a military jeep.
 Murdock watched, unable to utter even a sentence, as the look on Peck's
 face changed from one of greeting to one of stunned disbelief when he saw
 the condition that the pilot was in.
         Murdock could feel, smell, even hear the rage trembling throughout
 BA's entire body.  And now, Hannibal Smith emerged from the building where
 Murdock had been kept.  For the first time since Murdock had known the
 Colonel, he saw Smith's face register total fury.  He was flushed  and
 Murdock, even squinting against the blinding sun, could see the Colonel's
 body shaking with rage.
         Smith threw himself into the front seat beside Face.  "Let's get
 out of here," he managed to mutter through his fury.  Murdock noted that,
 in his anger at the way the hospital was keeping the patients, Hannibal
 could not bring himself to meet the pilot's eyes.
         But now, Murdock was having other problems.  It had been weeks
 since he had been allowed away from his bed.  His physical condition was so
 poor that he was unable to hold himself erect without support from BA.
 Sitting up was quickly causing him to become dizzy and disoriented.
         "Hannibal, hand me th' water.  He needs somethin' to drink." BA's
 strong voice pulled him back from the spinning world that was quickly
 sucking him under.
         Hannibal turned to give BA the canteen, and, for the first time,
 really studied Murdock.
         "Can you make it, Captain?" he asked, sensing that a military
 stance would help orient the pilot.
         "Yes Sir." Murdock was shocked at the sound of his own voice.  It
 cracked, and somehow there was no stability behind it.  Nothing there!
         BA took the canteen of water and offered it to the pilot, but
 Murdock didn't have the strength to hold it alone.  Gently, BA tipped it up
 so the Captain could drink.
         Immediately upon hitting his stomach, the water made a return trip!
 After bending over double and heaving it on the jeep floor, Murdock
 dropped his head between his knees and whispered, "I'm sorry."
         "It's okay, man.  I got five or six little nieces and nephews
 that's always doin' the same thing.  Don't worry.  Here...lay down.  You
 still too weak to be sittin' up."
         BA caught the Colonel's eye as he helped Murdock lay down on the
 back seat.  "Man, he can't even keep water down!  What did they do to him?"
         The Colonel shook his head.  "Just make him as comfortable as you
 can, BA.  We'll have him back home in no time."

         Murdock remembered little of his return to the U.S. The only time
 he was able to seperate reality from fantasy was on the airplane.  He was
 finally able to keep liquids down, and he remembered Face patiently feeding
 him a clear broth, spoonful by slow spoonful.  The broth had given him the
 strength to look around and actually focus on the objects near him.  He
 became aware of the fact that he could not only hear, but feel the engines
 humming all around him.
         "Face, help me sit up," he begged.
         "Okay, Murdock.  But not too quickly."
         As he rose to a sitting position, he could see the clouds from one
 small window of the plane.  Suddenly, he reached out, as if to touch them.
 But his hand came up against the glass in the aircraft window.
         "It's real!" he whispered in total surprise.  "It's real!  I'm in
 the sky!  Please, help me up!  I want to see better!"
         Gently, Face helped the pilot get to his feet.  Slowly, Murdock
 turned all the way around, supported by Face, staring out each window as it
 came into his view.
         "Oh God," he finally whispered.  "Is this really real?"
         "Yeah, Murdock, it's real.  You're safe now.  We won't let anything
 else happen to you.  You're back now." Face gently lowered him once again
 to the make-shift bed and quietly helped him finish the broth.

         Of course, it hadn't been easy.  After they returned to the States,
 Hannibal, Face and BA had tried for several weeks to bring Murdock out of
 his fantasy world which was constantly slipping into the world of reality.
 But the part they could never seem to control were the nightmares.
         Slowly, they had managed to strengthen him physically, but the
 nightmares woke them all.  Murdock's screams echoed throughout the rooms
 where they had taken refuge from the military.
         Finally, after one particularly bad night, Hannibal called them all
 together.  "He needs professional help.  We can't do it!  The three of us
 can barely deal with our own demons!  There's no way we can kill his demons
 for him.  I've checked into a VA hospital in California.  I think it's the
 best place for him.  And, as he gets better, it'll be the easiest place to
 break him out of, when we need him. But, right now, we're wanted men.  We
 can't take care of Murdock and dodge the military police at the same time.
 And he needs more help than I know how to give him."
         They didn't like the idea, but everyone, even Murdock, realized it
 was the only solution.
         And so, two months after leaving a VA hospital in Thailand, Captain
 H.M. Murdock voluntarily walked into the VA hospital in Westwood,
 California.  It would become his home.  The place where, after many years
 of help, the nightmares could be put in their place.  But they would always
 remain just around the corner. Always near, waiting to return.  But, at
 least he had learned to keep them at bay...most of the time.


 (PS-Thanks, Amanda.  You thought up the whole idea in 'Darkness and Light'!
 All I did was tell it in a little more detail!  VG)