Notes: The images in this fic will be mainly nightmares from Vietnam. The fic is not intended to offend anyone. It's just an idea that would not escape my imagination. This will be multi-chapter, but each chapter is going to be its own short vignette featuring each of the A-Team.
Chapter 1: Templeton Peck
Night fell over the jungles outside of Hanoi. Lieutenant Templeton Peck moved quietly through the trees. Not far away, Colonel John Smith was flanking him, along with Sergeant B. , and Captain H.M. Murdock. The A-Team. They had a mission to complete... take out the intended target, and get out.
Peck stopped and dropped to his knees behind an overgrown clump of bushes. He had reached his destination. He looked through the scope of his sniper rifle, and followed his target as the soldier moved across the VC camp. It was time.
The next five minutes were a blur. A shot rang out, and the silence was quickly filled with gunfire, and shouts in Vietnamese. Peck was on his feet and running, his team running with him. He almost got away, too, but there was a root protruding from the earth that Peck could not see in the dark jungle. He fell to the ground, and before he could get up, there were three VC pointing guns at his face.
"đón anh ta," one of them said. Seconds later, Peck was hauled up and dragged off. He wasn't sure where his team was, if they'd gotten out, captured or shot. He was completely on his own.
They beat him for two hours... they wanted to know who fired the shot. Peck remained silent. He would not sell out his team.
It was a bit of what little he could say in Vietnamese... and he meant it with every fiber of his being. He wanted the beating to stop.
It did not stop.
They threw his beaten body into a dirt cell, with other soldiers. He dragged himself away from the bars, and leaned against the filthy wall. He was going to die in this camp. He was sure of it.
They came for him again in three hours. He fought weakly as they dragged him back to the place he'd been beaten. There was a man waiting for him, running his finger along the blade of a large knife.
"không!" he yelled as two VC held him down, and a third held out his hand across a heavy wooden table. "khong! dừng lại!"
"You will confess," said the VC with the knife, in broken English. "Who fired shot?"
"I don't know! I swear! Please..."
Knife VC looked at the man holding Peck's hand down, and there was a brief Vietnamese conversation. The knife was laid on the table, right next to Peck's hand. The VC picked up a mallet instead.
He swung the mallet down onto Peck's hand. His screams could be heard across the camp.
"bạn sẽ thú nhận."
Face shot up in bed, sweating profusely. His heart rate was out of control, and he could barely breathe. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he came back to his senses, and realized that he was in his bedroom, in California. No Hanoi, no VC.
He let himself breathe for a few minutes, then threw the blankets off of himself and padded into the master bathroom. He took an inhaler from the medicine cabinet and took a few puffs. He'd seen a doctor after the first few nightmares, and he'd been prescribed an inhaler and an anti-anxiety medication. He didn't mind the inhaler... the anxiety meds remained unopened.
He quietly left his bedroom and went down the hall into the living room of his scammed condo. He made a beeline for the wet bar, and mixed himself a strong drink. He sucked it down quickly, rinsed the glass and set it back in its proper place.
Face went back to his bedroom and slipped back under the covers. He reached a hand under his pillow and brought out his Rosary. He gripped it tightly as a single tear ran down his cheek.
"God help me... I'm so sorry..."
He fell asleep with the Rosary in his hands.
đón anh ta = get him up
dừng lại! = stop!
không = no
bạn sẽ thú nhận = you will confess