"You're awful quiet."
Cruiser glanced up as Hannibal sat down across from him at the hastily-constructed table with a plate of what qualified as food out here. Cruiser gave a quick glance around, almost out of habit. Ten minutes ago, Hannibal had been at the chopper, with Murdock. But Murdock had apparently not followed him here.
"Something on your mind, Sergeant?"
"Actually, yeah." Cruiser's eyes locked on him, hard and serious. "Murdock."
He left it at that, curious to see if Hannibal would fill in the blanks or not. It seemed like Murdock was a hot topic right now, and Hannibal knew more than he did about it anyway. After all, he was the one who'd just been talking to him.
Hannibal nodded, but didn't seem the least bit taken aback by the implied question. "What about Murdock?"
"Everything," Cruiser snapped. Fuck, that wasn't going to help his case.
Hannibal raised a brow. "Well, that narrows it down." His tone was casual, neither threatened nor threatening, interested nor disinclined to talk.
Cruiser's eyes narrowed at him in a distinctly unamused glare. He was probably the hardest person in the world to read. Harder than Face, for sure. At least when it was something important. And this was definitely important. Cruiser wasn't even going to bother trying to pick him apart. He wasn't good at it and frankly, he didn't care. He had to say what he had to say; that was all there was to it. He set his fork down and forgot about the food.
"He's off..." What, his rocker? Not quite. That was the problem. If he just lost it, no one would be able to deny there was something wrong with him. His meds? That was another problem. The shrinks had given him a clean bill of health before they'd shipped him back here. It was bullshit. Cruiser didn't know or care if they'd realized that when they let him reenlist. It didn't change anything now, one way or another. This was their problem now, and they had to deal with it.
"I don't think he's safe on the ground," Cruiser finally concluded. There. A safe statement.
Hannibal was quiet for a moment, as if considering that. "Why? Because he doesn't hold it together in the field? Or because he has nightmares that make you a little uncomfortable?"
Because he won't leave me the fuck alone!
This had been really clear when he was ranting to Face. Now it was muddled with emotion. "The nightmares are part of it," he said. He was careful to keep all the anger and irritation out of his voice. He was genuinely concerned about this. And the only way Hannibal was going to hear him was if he spoke calmly and clearly, without anger. "But it's more what the nightmares mean. He's not okay. And putting him on the ground with us when we are already tired because we can't make it through a whole night without incident... It's not a matter of if he's going to snap, but of when and who he takes down with him."
Hannibal set his fork down. "Cruiser, everything that I've seen of him in the field - hell, training to be in the field - says he keeps it together better out there than he does in here. It gives him an outlet, and a connection."
Cruiser didn't look away from the hard stare. "Right. It's good for him. I get that. But at what cost?"
Hannibal didn't immediately answer, and Cruiser's eyes narrowed slightly. He had no reason to just submit to this. And he wasn't embarrassed or wrong to express his concern here. Hannibal needed to hear it.
"Are you really going to sacrifice this whole team for him?"
"Yes," Hannibal said firmly. "And I'd do the same for you, or any member of this team. Bar none."
Cruiser did look away for a moment now. Of course he would. But he was missing the entire point. It wasn't necessary. The man was a pilot. Let him be a pilot. He was damn good at it. Why complicate that?
"Hannibal…" Damn it, Face was the one that was good with words. Why wasn't he having this conversation? "Seriously, we do enough shit that risks our lives out there. And now, on top of thinking about Charlie, and watching everyone's back, I'm thinking about Murdock and what he's going to do, or if he's going to snap, and if he does, who is he going to take with him? And you're fine with that?"
Hannibal shook his head. "I'm not saying you're right about sacrificing the team. You asked me if I would, and yes. But that's not what's happening here."
"Well, what the hell is happening here?" Cruiser snapped. The hell with calm and collected. He wasn't being heard anyways.
"I wasn't saying it's good for him at the expense of the team. It's good for him and the team. Unless you know something I don't. Something happen out there today that I need to know about?"
Cruiser dropped his eyes and shook his head. "Nothing out of the ordinary." Damn it, he didn't like talking to Hannibal about Murdock. It seemed childish and wrong. But really, it was Hannibal's problem. He was the one insisting there was nothing to be concerned about here.
Cruiser picked up his fork again in the silence that followed and started eating a bite here and there. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened today. What was he supposed to say to make Hannibal understand that that didn't make it okay?
"Actually, that's my point." The fork clattered on the table as he dropped it again. "I'm fucking on edge 'cause I can't sleep through the night, then we go out there, and everyone except him can figure out to leave me the fuck alone to do my job. He's on my case wanting to know what's wrong and talk about feelings like chummy school girls until I want to knock his head off."
Hannibal chuckled. Cruiser's eyes narrowed into slits. There was nothing about this that he found amusing.
"What do you want me to do, Cruiser?" Hannibal was smiling, but the question seemed genuine. "You want me to talk to him? Tell him to leave you alone? You two are grown adults, you know. I'm surprised that either one of you would want me to get involved."
Cruiser blinked. What the hell? Hannibal was blowing him off? "You really think I would be here talking to you if it was as simple as he won't leave me alone?"
"No," Hannibal answered, curt but still polite. "But I'm still not sure what you're asking me to do. Do you want me to segregate him into another area so that you don't have to deal with him? Are you asking me to ground him? Throw him to a court martial for lying on his psych eval? Give me a break, Cruiser. I know you know me better than that so why are we having this conversation?"
Cruiser sighed, exasperated. This wasn't that hard to figure out. "Because he's not safe out there! Or he won't be, or the rest of us won't be. And I don't know which is coming first." He paused for a moment as cold determination set in. "I'm not gonna stick around to find out which comes first. I'm asking you to figure this out. 'Cause I gotta tell you, the way it stands right now, it's him or the rest of us. And there's always a chance that it'll be all of us."
"Is that a threat or a statement of opinion, Cruiser?" Hannibal asked flatly. "Just so we're clear."
"It's a fact. And you know it as well as I do."
"Well." Hannibal smiled tightly, his voice dripping with polite sarcasm as he stood. "When your prediction becomes a fact, and Murdock goes on a killing spree and decides to murder all of us in our sleep, then you can say, 'I told you so.' But until that point, I am in command here and both you and Murdock follow my orders. If you don't like it, you've served more than enough time here to revoke your indefinite status and go home."
He turned away without another word, and Cruiser slammed his fork back down on the table. "This is not a fucking joke!"
If he had been anyone else, he would have knocked the guy's head off. He was absolutely fuming with anger. This was beyond comprehension. Hannibal was blowing him off for some fucking flyboy special project of his? He shook his head and stood up so quickly that the chair fell over behind him as Hannibal walked away.
"Your pet project causes anymore problems, I'll fix it myself!"
Hannibal stopped, and turned slowly, eyes locked hard on Cruiser's. The gazes of every soldier in the room had been drawn to the two men. And Cruiser didn't give a damn. Not in the least.
"You're all my pet projects, Sergeant," Hannibal said coldly. "And don't you forget it. You got a problem with it, you can go be on someone else's team."
Cruiser stepped around the table and towards Hannibal, radiating aggression, back ramrod straight, hands balled up in fists, jaw set. "Don't for a minute think I won't, Colonel," he growled.
"I respect your opinion, Cruiser," Hannibal said. His eyes and tone were both ice cold. "A lot. But I'm not going to ground Murdock, or force him to go home, or tell him he can't be part of the team, or really do anything different than what I'm already doing in keeping an eye on him. You oughtta know me well enough to know that before we ever started this conversation. Which makes whole thing a venting exercise for you. And I'm fine with that until you go too far."
Cruiser growled, fists tightening. "If I wanted someone to vent to, it sure as hell wouldn't be you. I'm not here to get your approval, your sympathy, or your understanding. I'm here to let you know that I have no intention of going home in a bag because of your ego."
Hannibal's eyes narrowed into slits. His shoulders were back, but he wasn't postulating. He didn't have to. The look on his face said more than enough. He was in charge here. Cruiser respected that. But they were both aware of the fact that he was exercising every ounce of control he had not to swing.
"I'll be more than happy to sign your papers, Sergeant, if that's what you want. Send you anywhere you want to go - including back home. But you oughtta know me better than to think that I'd sacrifice Murdock out of fear for your threat that you're going to walk away."
"I'm well aware that I'm replaceable, but I'm not the only one who sees this problem."
"I don't give a good god damn if you like him or not, if you trust him or not."
"He doesn't belong on the ground!"
"When he starts dropping with us on recon, then we'll have to talk about that. But for right now, I don't see how you expect this situation to change. And you haven't offered me any solution that doesn't involve me turning my back on a member of this team - your team - who needs to be a part of that team."
Cruiser was toe to toe with Hannibal. "I'm asking you to prove me wrong."
"About what? That he's happy and healthy and fine? Because you're right, he's not. But my solution to that problem is apparently very different than yours."
"Well your solution better damn well work. Because I see it making things worse."
"You're either going to trust me in that or you're going to go your own way. Choose your path, Cruiser. It's the same now as it's always been."
"Your solution allowed him to pull a gun on some concerned ARVNs in the middle of the night. What the fuck else has he done? And when does it become too much?"
"When I say," Hannibal answered authoritatively.
"Well, I say I'm close to being done with it. Because I gotta tell you, you're looking a little blind to me right now, and that scares the hell out of me."
Hannibal nodded. His gaze didn't waver. "Noted, Sergeant."
He left it at that. Cruiser stood stock still, staring him down. That wasn't what he wanted to hear. That didn't offer any reassurance. That didn't fix a goddamn thing. He might as well have not even said anything in the first place if this was all it was going to amount to.
Hannibal watched him for a long moment, eyes locked, then stepped back, turned, and calmly walked away without another word. Cruiser watched him go, fists tight at his sides. Any other man, and he would have ended it with a nice punch to the jaw. Hannibal was the one man he wouldn't swing on. But he was also the one man that he'd always assumed would listen to a legitimate concern.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
