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Coming to Terms

Coming To Terms

by SnowFlake

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(c) June 2001

Rating: PG with warnings

Summary:  1975 - The team has to deal with an in increasingly delusional Murdock.

Disclaimer:  None of these characters belong to me no matter how much I wish they did. SJC and Universal are the lucky owners. I only borrow the guys and I have made no profit from writing this.

Warnings:  Some language, mental instability

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"You listen real good, sucka', we paid fo' the room and we ain't leavin' till tomorrow."

"My other customers are complaining. You do understand that I ---" The motel clerk's whining was cut short as B.A. picked him up by the front of his gaudy shirt.

"I understand you gonna be tastin' this," B.A. brought his clenched fist an inch from the man's eyes. "Unless you get outta here, sucka!"

The balding man cleared his throat nervously and backed up a step, but B.A. was still holding him by the shirt, which meant he didn't get far. He smiled a nervous, appeasing smile.

"I'm sure your neighbors won't mind you gentlemen staying the night; after all, you did pay for it."

B.A. released his grip and the night clerk stumbled backwards. The little man straightened his shirt and tried to regain some measure of dignity as he adjusted his tie, which despite his efforts remained more askew than before.

"But you are leaving first thing in the morning, right?"

A menacing growl sent him virtually running from the room.

B.A. threw the door shut, but as his fingers let go of the door handle he was already regretting it. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut he waited for the slam, and the mayhem that surely would follow. A startled cry, matching in volume the crash of the door, cut through the room and B.A.'s heart sank as he turned around. A tangled knot of arms and legs had come to life under the blanket.

Face shot B.A. a furious look as he leaped up from his chair and knelt down next to the bed.

"Sshhh… 'S all right. Just the door. You go back to sleep, okay?"

The brown eyes that peered over the edge of the blanket were mirror-like with terror and the mild sedatives they'd all but forced down his throat three hours earlier.

"Be careful, man."

Face turned towards B.A., anger clearly visible on his tired features. He opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it.

"Watch it!"

B.A.'s warning came a fraction of a second too late, and as Face turned back to Murdock, he was greeted by a fist that connected squarely with his nose.

"Get the fuck away from me!" The discarded blanket fell to the floor as the pilot exploded into motion. "Whaddaya want?!" The voice was hoarse, almost gone. Murdock came to rest, standing on top of the bed, back against the wall and fists high.

Face was back on his feet in an instant, one hand over mouth and nose (blood already trickling between his fingers), the other one motioning B.A. to stay back.

"Hey, Murdock, relax; it's just me." Face's voice was muffled behind his hand. He was leaning slightly forward, trying to avoid getting any of the blood on his shirt, and at the same time trying to keep the blood from staining the carpet. He caught Murdock's eyes darting towards the door. "Watch him, B.A., he might go for the door again." He looked down at his shirt and sighed soundlessly; another perfectly good shirt ruined.

As he returned from the bathroom, blood flow stemmed and hands and face washed, it seemed Murdock (sulking) and B.A. (agitated) had engaged in a silent staring battle.

"Murdock."

The pilot nearly made a nose-dive off the bed at the sound of Face's voice, but somehow managed to regain his balance. His mercurial eyes engaged in an erratic dance across the room, returning to Face every couple of seconds. Face tried again; this time he kept his voice deliberately low.

"Murdock?"

"Fuck off!"

The hostility in Murdock's voice caught Face off guard. "Come on, Murdock, it's just me. Calm down, will you?"

"Go away!"

"Will you at least get down from the bed, Murdock? I don't want you to fall."

Murdock nervously shifted footing, but showed no sign of moving an inch.

Face tiredly turned his attention to B.A. who was still standing guard at the door, and watched him with detached interest. Anything to take his mind off Murdock (even if it was something as banal as watching B.A. scowling) was welcome, but Face didn't dare take his eyes off the pilot for more than a couple of seconds at a time, and he soon found himself monitoring Murdock again.

Murdock was just standing there, absolutely motionless, yet radiating such waves of agitated energy Face felt as if he was being wound up himself.

They were having increased problems protecting Murdock from himself; in his confused state he wasn't always aware of his surroundings. Face's stomach tightened as the image of the 18-wheeler swerving and missing Murdock by mere inches flashed in his mind. The sight of the petite Asian waitress at the diner had convinced Murdock the VC interrogators were coming for him, and he had bolted right onto the heavily trafficked Route 118.

The chair creaked under his weight as Face sat down again. Murdock was still perched on top of the bed, but at least he wasn't screaming his head off. It was hard enough trying to keep a low profile with B.A., but with Murdock's nightmares slowly leaking into his days, it was getting to a point where it was almost impossible.

Between his agitated conversations with invisible people, his nightly terrors, and his paranoid rantings, Murdock had become an even more vocal person than usual. And a very much louder one. Face was surprised they'd been able to avoid capture this far, seeing as they were walking around with a human equivalent of a bullhorn.

"Hannibal should be back by now." B.A.'s eyes didn't leave Murdock as he spoke.

Face glanced at his watch. B.A. was right, it shouldn't take Hannibal this long to get in and get what he needed from the local pharmacy. Unless he'd found more than what he was looking for. Like the MPs.

Murdock suddenly laughed out loud, and Face's frowned nervously. He was beginning to dread the sound of that voice, he really was. Even when Murdock kept the volume down and actually was behaving lucidly, his voice was making Face cringe internally. Hopefully the pills would put Murdock back to sleep if they just let him be.

Face suppressed a yawn. None of them had slept much during the last week. A couple of hours here, a couple of hours there. They had been forced to take shifts sleeping to at least function on a basic level, to keep Murdock under control. Keep him quiet.

It was almost four months since they'd broken Murdock out of the hospital. He'd been so terribly thin, the clothes he'd been wearing were hanging off bony shoulders and barely staying up over narrow hips. Happy to see them, and almost embarrassingly thankful for getting him out, away from the sedations, and the restraints, and the loneliness.

Face felt the bitterness run as he thought of what they, the ones supposed to be his friends, had done to Murdock. The past few weeks, they'd done the very thing he'd begged them to save him from; doped him up, locked him up, and left him utterly alone in his living nightmares. Not alone per se, but nevertheless, entirely on his own.

At the other side of the room, Murdock slid down along the wall, and folded his long legs under himself. Talking to himself, cheerfully, incoherently, his hands were moving, as if picking something from the empty air in front of him.

"Quit foolin' around, ain't nothin' there!" B.A.'s voice was angry.

Murdock didn't seem to have heard it. He kept picking at his invisible things, conversing softly with himself.

"Leave him alone, B.A."

"He's gonna be hurtin' if he…"

"That's your answer to everything, huh? Ah dunno what's wid that crazy fool," Face's voice matched B.A's Chicago growl perfectly. "Let's hurt 'im; that'll teach 'im to mess wid me!" Then back to his own voice. "Leave him the fuck alone!"

B.A.'s brow lowered dangerously. He took two short steps towards Face who got to his feet in an instant, accepting the challenge.

Face knew it was crazy; he was no match for the sergeant, but he didn't care. He just wanted to go after B.A. and beat some sense into that thick head. Or get the shit beaten out of himself; didn't really matter which way. Maybe the latter was to be preferred, then at least he'd get a couple of minutes of rest during which he didn't have to worry about anything.

A distraught wail was heard before B.A. could get within slugging distance of him, and Face's attention was shifted to the bed and Murdock who was doubled over, hands firmly clasped over both ears.

"Look what you did!" Face flung an accusing arm in Murdock's direction.

The only reply from B.A. was a menacing glare.

Face took a long breath and forced the simmering anger deep down in his mind. He approached the bed cautiously and stopped just out of reach.

"Murdock?"

There was no response to Face's voice, Murdock kept his ears covered, and seemed to have re-engaged in his previous monologue. Equally unintelligible, but the tone was different. Frightened, frantic.

Face reached out and placed a hand lightly on Murdock's shoulder. "Hey, Murdock, you there?" This time he saw it coming, and easily sidestepped the swing. It wasn't hard, getting a lot of power behind a punch is pretty difficult when you're crouched on your knees. "Whoa, take it easy."

"Don't touch me!" Murdock was on his feet once again, back pressed against the wall. His voice lowered to a miserable whisper. "I'll die."

"Come on, Murdock, you won't die if I touch you."

"Yes, I will! Get away from me!"

Face backed one step and held his hands up in what he hoped was a non-threatening gesture. "Okay, okay, I won't touch you. Promise. Just sit down."

"No."

Face sighed. "Please?"

"Uh-uh!" Murdock shook his head vehemently.

"All right, just don't trip, okay." Face picked up the blanket from the floor. As he started moving towards the bed to put it down, a panicked screech escaped Murdock, and in the corner of his eye, Face saw him leap off the bed.

Murdock landed almost on top of the small table next to the bed. The rickety piece of furniture gave away and sent Murdock and every single thing on it flying. Telephone, water glasses, empty food cartons, and Murdock, all ended up in a heap on the floor. Face automatically took a step to help his friend up, but stopped dead in his tracks as he remembered the direction Murdock's latest delusion seemed to have taken.

He forced himself to sound casual. "You all right, Murdock?" What a goddamn stupid question! Of course he wasn't all right; you think he'd be behaving like this if he were?

Murdock started moving. Glazed eyes took in the mess around him. "Never could keep my room clean," he mumbled, a shadow of a smile flying across his worn face.

Face sighed a quiet thank-you as he saw some of 'their' Murdock behind the drug-induced shine in the brown eyes. Face still decided to remain motionless; he didn't want to spook Murdock now that he seemed to have touched down after this latest brain trip.

Murdock started getting to his feet, but suddenly froze and stared blankly at his hands.

"I told you."

The phrase was spoken with such sadness that Face shivered.

"Told me what?"

"Told you I was gonna die if you touched me." Hysteria was seeping through again.

Face's stomach knotted with disappointment. They'd been so close.

"What are you talking about? You're not dying."

"Yes, I am! You killed me!" Murdock lifted his hands as protection against Face. Bright red blood was running down his left underarm and heavy drops collected at his elbow before releasing their grip and falling to the floor.

Face watched with the fascination of someone tired beyond exhaustion how the blood reluctantly was absorbed by the dirty carpet. We're gonna get stuck with the cleaning bill, was all he could think of.

"You not dyin', fool. You cut yourself open on the glass you broke." B.A. gruff voice was heard.

Murdock spun around and fixed his glossy eyes on B.A. "You both want me dead'n buried!" He was backing away, bleeding hand pressed tightly against his chest, rapidly soaking the rumpled T-shirt.

"C'mon, crazy man," B.A.'s voice was gentle and coaxing. "We don't want you dead. Let Faceman take care of that cut; you bleedin' an awful lot."

"Don't get any closer!"

B.A. sighed. "Face, get the first aid kit."

The sound of B.A.'s voice shook Face back to attention, and he quietly collected their well-stocked kit from the bathroom. As he returned B.A. took a wary step closer to the gangly southerner. The result was a terrified squeak from Murdock accompanied by a desperate look over B.A.'s shoulder for a way out. Face's heart dropped as he saw the change in Murdock's stance.

You're not gonna make this easy are you?

Almost as in response to his thoughts, Murdock made a desperate dash for the door behind B.A., but it was an easy thing for the sergeant to intercept him.

Face winced as Murdock's thin body slammed against the wall with a dull thud, and the pilot collapsed to the floor. B.A. wrapped his arms and legs around the writhing man, but despite his advantage in size and strength, he was struggling to hold on.

A well-placed knee sent B.A. rolling away from Murdock, doubling over and wheezing from the pain that shot up from his groin and settled into his stomach. "Face!"

Murdock scrambled backwards into the corner as Face cautiously approached.

"Sshh… Calm down, I'm not gonna hurt …"

"Go to hell!"

"… you. Just wanna check that cut." Face grimaced and flexed his fingers to get the blood going, he'd unconsciously been clutching the handle of the medical kit with all his strength. "Quiet down a bit, okay? Just a little bit, please?"

"FUCK OFF!"

Face sighed and moved in.

* * * *

Face suddenly felt the back of his shirt and neck being grabbed, and he was thrown clear across the room. As he looked up from the floor, two cold blue eyes greeted him. The impact with the wall had been rough, and it took Face a few moments to get his bearings again. As he did, he felt the blood drain from his face.

He'd been trying to take care of Murdock's cuts, but had ended up trying to shut him up. He'd just wanted Murdock to be quiet.

Oh, God.

"Go outside." Hannibal's voice was almost neutral, but Face could hear the anger, barely kept at bay.

"Hannibal, let me help with…"

B.A. was struggling with Murdock at the other side of the room, but it seemed the captain's strength was fading fast. The fight he was putting up was growing weaker by the second, and he was soon effectively pinned down to the floor.

"Get out, Lieutenant. Now!"

Face almost contemplated pushing just a little; if he couldn't get B.A. to give him some rest, maybe the colonel would. God knew he deserved being knocked silly after what he'd just done to Murdock. Then he decided against it; wasn't fair to Hannibal. Hannibal would feel guilty about it, even though it would be warranted. And he had enough on his mind without Face adding extra stones to his burden.

Face got up from the floor, and closed the door silently behind him.

He sagged heavily against the wall. He'd just been trying to get Murdock to shut up and let them take care of his cuts. Murdock's voice was suddenly heard through the door, panicked. Face covered his ears with his hands.

He didn't know how he'd gotten there; he found himself standing at the back of the motel, away from the lights, the noise, and most of all, away from Murdock. Stiffly he lowered himself down to the ground and rested his back against the cool wall.

He dug out the cigarette pack, and with shaking fingers lit one. In the flickering light of the flame, the blood on his hands was clearly visible. Murdock's blood.

God. How would he ever be able to look Murdock in the eye again? 'Hi, I'm supposed to be your best friend, and I almost killed you to shut you up.' Face tried to will the pictures from his mind, but the sight of Murdock struggling (not to escape some imagined horror, but fighting Face to get some air) was playing over and over in his head.

Just wanted him to shut up. Just wanted a little peace and quiet.

He was woken from his thoughts as the cigarette, without having reached his lips even once after being lit, finally singed his fingers. Face hissed a curse and flicked the butt away. Its amber glow fizzled out as it hit the damp soil. Sighing, he blinked and drew a hand over his tired and hot face. His eyes felt itching, and dry. So why did his fingers come away wet?

He shook another cigarette out of the pack, and tried not to look at his hands at he lit it. The smoke felt soothing as he inhaled the first deep breath, and held it until his lungs burned from lack of oxygen.

Face closed his eyes quickly as he heard the sound of shoes against gravel approaching. He knew who it was; couldn't be anyone else. He'd been hoping to postpone the lecture until tomorrow.

'Lecture? You're worried about a lecture? Hell, after what you just did, you'll be lucky if you're still on the team in the morning.' The thought should have frightened him no end; he knew that, but he laconically registered that he didn't feel much. A slight sadness at the prospect of it, but other than that, numbness.

The footsteps stopped in front of him.

"He sleeping?" Face asked quietly without opening his eyes.

The gravel crunched as Hannibal sat down next to him. "Yes, that stuff worked pretty quickly." His voice was calm, no trace of the anger Face knew had to be there.

"You did give him a smaller dose, right?"

"Yeah. The medical advisor at the hospital didn't think it'd be a problem giving him Nembutal. It shouldn't react much with the over-the-counter stuff we got."

After the scene at the restaurant earlier that day, and the bout of hysteria that followed, they had mutually agreed that they needed to get some kind of tranquilizer for Murdock. The non-prescription pills they had weren't strong enough, and they were just too much of a hassle to force into someone who didn't want them. The pills had worked this afternoon, but Face wasn't sure who was more freaked by the whole ordeal, Murdock or himself.

"Any problem getting it?"

"No problems." Face heard the almost-grin in Hannibal's voice. "In and out in less than 3 minutes." Hannibal turned serious. "They had some bad shit in there. Hope they perk up the security after my little visit; wouldn't want any kids getting into trouble."

"How about the cuts? Deep?"

Face knew he was stalling, but he just felt so tired. He didn't feel like he could take being chewed out right now. The distinct sound of a lighter was heard and he felt a whiff of familiar, calming, cigar smoke.

"They will heal, no permanent damage done."

Face could feel Hannibal's eyes on him, but couldn't bring himself to meet them. He cursed inwardly as he felt his eyes fill up behind closed eyelids.

"Good." The word came out a little shaky.

"Hey, kid," Hannibal's voice was low, "I'm not gonna pretend things are fine. They're not. Won't ever be, not unless we realize we're in way over our heads here. You can see that; can't you?"

Face nodded, didn't trust his own voice to answer. But yes, he knew.

"And I don't know what's going on between you and B.A.," Hannibal spoke around his cigar, "but you're going in there, and the two of you are going to solve it."

Face opened his eyes and turned towards his C.O. "There's nothing going on betwe---"

The voice grew harsher. "Save it for someone else, Lieutenant. We don't need any more distractions. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then get to it. I'm gonna get a little sleep; come get me when you're done." Hannibal got to his feet.

"Yes, sir."

Face watched his C.O. leave. His mind was racing trying to make sense. Hannibal hadn't said anything about what had happened, had he? Face was so tired he had to re-play the entire conversation in his mind to be sure. Why not? Hannibal never shied away from letting him know when he screwed up. So why hadn't he said anything?

Face slowly got up from the ground and brushed the sand off his pants mechanically. Not that it made any difference; they were already dirty, courtesy of Murdock's little tantrum in the diner earlier. He shook out the last cigarette, and lit it after throwing the crumpled pack into the shadows.

* * * *

Face stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind him. The only light in the room was a small bedside lamp placed on the table at which B.A. was sitting.

The yellowish light barely reached over across the room to the bed and the blanket that was neatly tucked in around the still form. Murdock's hair was still damp and dark from sweat as he slept. His slow breathing came in soft sighs, but the tranquilizer had been unable to restore the peace to his features; even under heavy sedation, the troubled expression on his face remained.

As Face stepped in, B.A. looked up from the radio he was dissecting, and without a word returned his attention to it.

"Did it break?" Face had to say something. The silence in the backyard had been soothing. In here it felt plain suffocating.

"Mmm."

"Can you fix it?"

B.A. shot Face an annoyed look.

"Ain't nothin' I can't fix." His eyes wandered to the bed, and anger turned into sadness. "'Cept for him. Can't fix him." He stared regretfully at Murdock's sleeping figure, then returned his attention to the radio.

Face brought the chair from next to Murdock's bed, and sat down across the table from B.A. "Listen, about earlier…" Face's finger started tracing an invisible pattern on the table top.

B.A. didn't acknowledge his attempt at getting an apology started.

"I'm just tired; you know. I'm sorry I got on your case like that." Face slowly lowered his head onto his crossed arms on the table and inhaled deeply. He felt short of breath, like he wasn't getting enough air. "And I'm sorry for…" His voice trailed off as he realized it was betraying him again.

He closed his eyes tightly, forcing the tears back. Why the hell was he such a baby tonight? Seemed every goddamned thing made him cry. A deep hole and a century worth of sleep felt really appealing at the moment. Even Fort Bragg didn't sound like such a bad idea at the moment. At least he'd get some rest.

But he'd still remember.

He'd still remember trying to get Murdock to shut up, and shaking him so hard his head hit the floor. And he'd remember trying to cover his friend's mouth and getting bitten. And most of all, he'd remember gripping at Murdock's throat to stop the screams.

God have mercy on his soul.

Face stood up too suddenly and the wooden chair toppled over, hitting the floor with a resounding bang. B.A. shot to his feet at the sound, and the two teammates stared at Murdock, waiting for the next episode of the frightening show they'd been treated to the last couple of weeks. But Murdock didn't even stir, too heavily sedated this time to notice anything.

B.A placed a large hand on Face's arm. "Siddown."

"I should get those clothes…" Face motioned feebly at the heap of dirty clothes in the corner. It was a bad excuse, but it was the only thing he could come up with that would get him out of the room.

"Siddown."

Face felt what little was left of his energy seep out through the soles of his feet, and he sank down on the chair B.A. collected from the floor.

B.A. kept his gentle grip on Face's arm. "Listen, we're cool, you an' me." B.A. fixed Face's eyes with his own. "I know it wasn't you talkin' back there. And I sure as hell know it wasn't you tryin' to shut 'im up like that."

Face winced and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Listen," B.A. shook him lightly. "Don't worry 'bout it. Get some sleep; it'll be all right.

"But it won't!" Face straightened up and withdrew from B.A.'s hand. He made a conscious effort at keeping his voice down. "You know it won't be all right."

"Yeah, I know."

"I thought I knew him. I really did."

The tiredness and the grief in his friend's voice made B.A. cringe. He wasn't good with words, never had been.

"Faceman, you the person who knows the fool better than anyone. I care for 'im, don't think I could care for no one more than I do for you guys. 'Cept my mama. But she ain't been with me from hell and back."

Face couldn't help smiling weakly despite his gloom. "You should be thankful she didn't see you at that place down in Sin City with all the girls going crazy over you."

B.A. shot him an embarrassed (and ever so slightly amused) glance. "Wasn't my thing; besides, wasn't my fault they liked me better."

"Oh, sure." Face's thin smile widened slightly.

"You jealous?"

"No way, I was busy with some of the finest specimens of round eyes on the base." Face dug up another cigarette and lit it. He thought briefly about washing his hands as he inhaled the smoke.

"You smokin' too much again."

"I know. Remember that double date Murdock set up for me and him, with those two nurses in Da Nang?"

"I remember havin' to pick the two of ya up afterwards. Never did like to run from the MPs. Still don't."

Face laughed quietly and reached for the ashtray. "Still can't believe Murdock managed to get that Huey in and out without getting caught."

The smile faded slowly and Face met B.A's eyes. "I really thought he was playing. I knew he was a bit messed up," Face rubbed his eyes, "but I had no idea he was ever this bad off." He glanced over his shoulder at the motionless figure. Murdock hadn't moved an inch since Face had returned.

Careful not to tip the chair over again, Face got up and silently crossed the floor.

"He's just sleeping, he'll be out 'til tomorrow." B.A.'s voice was accompanied by soft music that streamed from the radio as he flicked the power switch.

"Yeah, I know; just wanted to check." Face returned to the table. "You think he'll ever get over it?"

"I dunno." It was B.A.'s turn to get up. He lowered the volume further and placed the radio on the nightstand next to the bed. Careful not to disturb Murdock too much, he sat down on the edge of the bed and gently rearranged the blanket.

Face turned around on the chair and rested his chin on the arm draped over the backrest.

"Even when he gets like this, and he doesn't know us and he thinks we're out to get him, I still see him in there." Face sounded distant. "Don't know if it's wishful thinking, but it's like he's still there, somewhere beneath the surface."

"I know what you mean." B.A. stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets, an unconscious imitation of the subject of conversation. "You know we gonna have to get 'im back to the hospital, right?" The voice was sad. "You know we can't give 'im the stuff he needs right now."

"I know."

"I don't like it any better than you, but if he's gonna get better he's gotta go back to that… place. At least they know what to do."

"You mean, at least they don't try to kill him to shut him up?" Self-contempt was dripping from Face's words.

"No, man, that's not what I mean."

Face sighed again; he was still feeling as if his chest was too tight, like he wasn't getting enough air. "I know." Defeat was evident in his voice.

The two men spent the next half hour in silence. Face finally got to his feet and stretched gingerly. He felt old, stiff and sore. All ancient age and no energy.

"I'll go wake Hannibal; he told me to get him when we were done." Then Face glanced at B.A., worried blue eyes peeking out from under sandy hair. "We okay?"

"Yeah, man. We're okay."

* * * *

Face squinted in the bright fluorescent light of the corridor as he made his way to the door on the other side. He leaned heavily against the wall and knocked twice. "Open up, it's me."

The door swung open almost immediately. Hannibal tucked the gun in the lining of his pants and pulled the jacket over his shoulders.

"Get some sleep, kid." The voice was hoarse with still-lingering sleep.

"But it's B.A.'s turn." Face couldn't stifle a yawn.

"You need it more than B.A.; besides, with Murdock shot up on pentobarbital, it's not a problem."

Hannibal stopped in the doorway and looked at his miserable lieutenant. Disheveled blond hair, clothes in disarray, tired shadows under dark eyes. Even his stance seemed to radiate exhaustion. Hannibal sighed; he should have seen it, should have caught Face before he went down this deep. But it wasn't as if Face had been the main focus of their attention lately.

He patted Face on the shoulder. "You rest, we'll get you if we need you."

Face nodded mechanically, "Yes, Sir," and started unbuttoning the shirt. Just as the door was about to close behind his C.O., he spoke again. Quietly. "Hannibal?"

Hannibal popped his head back into the room. "Yeah?"

"We're taking him back to the hospital once we return to L.A." Face's head was bowed over the buttons of his shirt.

"Yeah, we'll take him back."

"Okay."

"Get some sleep." Hannibal closed the door and left Face in the dark.

Face gave up and let his heavy hands fall from the obstinate buttons. He stumbled over to an overnight bag and grabbed a T-shirt from it, didn't care whose it was. The blanket was still warm from Hannibal's body as he curled up under it. Face inhaled deeply, and then emptied his head. He didn't want to worry any more; he just wanted to sleep. To forget. Even if he knew it was only for a little while. He'd deal with it later. He'd find a way to make it up to Murdock. Later.

He was asleep within seconds, T-shirt still clutched in his hand.

 

~ The End ~

 


Coming To Terms by SnowFlake
Coming Down by SnowFlake

 

 


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