Note: This one is a bit "artsy" for me, but I was in that kind of a mood when I wrote it...hope you enjoy it anyway!
That smell.
They would never forget that smell for as long as they lived, which unfortunately looked as if it might be a lot longer than their friend at the rate things were going.
It was a smell they hadn't smelled for more than a decade. It was a single smell that was so unique it couldn't be mistaken for any other.
Combined with other smells, it wasn't dominant and was often overlooked. But alone, and in this great quantity, it was potent and powerful…and definitely memorable.
The fragrance provided them with an all too familiar sense of fear and anguish as they tended to his injuries in the back of the van.
They could hear him gasping for air to fill his lungs that were working overtime.
They could see his usually tan skin turning a pale and sickly shade of gray.
They could feel his pulse pounding faster and faster and faster to dangerously high levels.
And they could smell…and that is how they feared the end was near.
That smell.
He would never forget that smell for as long as he lived, which unfortunately looked as if it might not be for much longer at the rate things were going.
It was a smell he had lived with for more than a decade. To be more accurate, it wasn't one smell, but a unique combination of odors.
Taken alone, each wasn't particularly dominant or special. But, together, they were potent and powerful…and definitely memorable.
The fragrance provided him with a sense of familiarity and comfort, especially now as he lay injured in the back of the van.
He couldn't hear as the sound of his own heart working overtime was beating in his ears and blocking all else out.
He couldn't see because his eyes were closed and he didn't have enough energy left to open them with.
He couldn't feel due to his body being in shock; he was blissfully numb to the pain.
But he could still smell and that is how he knew the team was near.
Face was awake and they didn't need his eyes open to figure it out.
Hannibal stuffed the umpteenth cigar he was about to smoke in his pocket and said, "Welcome back, kid."
Murdock took off his cap and ran a hand through his Ivory Soap scented hair. "You had us real worried, Muchacho."
B.A. shoved his hands into his motor oil stained overalls and said gruffly, "don't you go scarin' us like that ever again, man."
Blood…the awful smell of death…it was no longer present.
Face awoke and didn't need to open his eyes to know they were there.
Cigars. Hannibal wasn't smoking one at the moment, but he must have recently gone on a bender because the smell wasn't quite yet stale and was intensely powerful.
Ivory Soap. The official soap of the Veteran's Hospital of which Murdock was a proud and often…with a little help from his friends…M.I.A. resident.
Motor Oil. It was to B.A. what aftershave was to most other men…a liquid frequently worn on the body on a daily basis.
Cigars, soap and oil…mixed together they smelled like his family.
It was an aroma he hoped to inhale for many long years to come.
The End
