author's disclaimer and note: Any recognizable characters are not mine. No money made.
This is my first A-Team story, and I'll berate myself for flimsy characterizations. Two songs ("Unwell" by Matchbox Twenty and "Rio" by Duran Duran" are stuck in my head, and ended up within this piece. As of 4 May 2011, this story was updated to fix some maddening format issues, but no new content was added.
It didn't help she was always singing a snippet of that song. The same snippet, on a loop:
"I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell—"
If they were lucky and her memory offered more, it'd continue:
"—I know right now you can't tell, but take a look and maybe then you'll see a better side of me—"
The full refrain was rare.
The rest of the team was surprised when they found out the hushed giggling and not-quite-quiet-enough sneaking through the house wasn't Face with another quick conquest that night.
It was the one no one remembered ever tiptoeing a woman back before.
"Man, you gotta be quieter comin' in late," B.A. grumbled as he walked into the kitchen and saw Face the next morning. "I know yer all smug at the amount of honey you get—"
"Wasn't me," Face contradicted innocently. "I figured it was you. I saw you eyeing up that biker chick at the bar."
B.A. shook his head and the two men stared at one another, wanting but not quite believing the other.
"Hannibal?"
"Hannibal. That old dog," chuckled Face.
"I heard that," the Colonel said, coming up to the table. "Old dog what?"
"You kick your lady friend out already? We're going to be in town for a while—you don't want to get a reputation. Or give anyone a reason to remember you in a bad light. You could have at least let her stick around for breakfast. Murdock's making waffles."
Hannibal looked amused but bewildered. "What are you talking about?"
"Come on, Colonel—you know we don't care," B.A. said.
"Yeah. You've always been cool about us having overnight guests, so that courtesy is yours too."
"I don't know what you boys are on so early in the morning, but I didn't invite anyone back."
B.A. and Face threw each other startled glances.
"Not Hannibal?"
"Not Hannibal," Face concurred.
"Murdock?"
"Murdock."
A wide grin split Face's lips. B.A. shook his head, muttering, "What kind of crazy do you have to be to hook up with that crazy?"
As if on cue, Murdock walked in the room.
"Morning!" he chirped.
"Morning," the other three answered, then waited expectantly.
When he turned his back to the group to begin digging through cupboards to start breakfast and didn't say anything more, Face finally cleared his throat.
"Uh, Murdock?"
"Yeah?"
He glanced at the others. "We were just wondering—"
"I know, I know. It's surprising, that's true. But I have a perfectly good explanation."
Again, the three waited.
"See, I ran out of non-stick spray last night, and I didn't remember right away, so I tried to improvise—"
"Hold up, fool!" B.A. interjected. Murdock started. "That is not information I need to be hearin'!"
Meekly he tried to apologize. "Sorry, Bosco. I thought it was important to the story. A foreshadowing technique. But if you don't want to know about how Crisco doesn't work—motor oil doesn't either, it leaves a gassy aftertaste—and we don't have any lard either—"
"Murdock!"
Again he started.
"Skip the details, Murdock. Just get to the point," Face managed to say with minimal laughter in his voice.
Holding his hands in front of him like a child about to recite, Murdock bowed his head. In an inoffensive tone, the pilot said, "I was simply trying to explain why I have to make pancakes this morning instead of the waffles I promised."
Face snorted out loud. B.A. threw his hands in the air and said something intelligible to himself. Hannibal didn't hide his smile either, at Murdock's obvious confusion at the reactions he got.
"Son," Hannibal said calmly, "I think what they're asking about is the woman they think you brought in last night."
"Oh! Her!" Murdock blurted, seemingly not embarrassed. "Right!"
Immediately he shushed the other two and himself.
"Keep it down! She's still sleeping," he whispered. "Come on, guys—not so loud!"
To their credit, B.A. and Face did their best to muffle their contempt and laughter respectively.
A movement behind him caught Hannibal's attention and he turned to see a woman in the hallway, looking slightly mussed and out of place. She gave him a fragile smile that widened when Murdock popped up behind the older man's shoulder.
Hannibal stepped out of the way as Murdock met her in the hall.
"Morning!" he greeted as brightly as he had his team. They heard her mutter something too low to make out. "Come meet everyone!"
B.A. sighed, knowing how awkward these meeting were the next morning with Face's girls. He could only imagine how it would be with Murdock's conquest. Face, always comfortable with women, stood up. Hannibal was never fazed in any situation, and this wasn't going to be the first.
Murdock led the woman by the hand to the kitchen.
"This is Rio, everyone. Rio, this is everyone. Bosco, Faceman, and Hannibal."
In turn, they greeted her. She returned the salutations.
"Have a seat. Breakfast will be on the table in no time."
She edged closer and took a seat. The faded t-shirt she wore was obviously Murdock's—it would be difficult to believe she owned any clothing with ground-in grease stains. Her hair was the dyed dark red that women seemed to think looked natural. It made her complexion too pale.
As Murdock bustled around the stove and countertops singing half under his breath, "Her name is Rio and she dances on the sand— ", Hannibal helped by getting coffee started and the breakfast dishes ready.
After she sat, Face copied the motion, leaned forward and smiled warmly. "Rio. Pleasure to meet you. I hope this isn't too horribly awkward."
His tone and demeanor typically put women at ease, and she was no exception. "It's a little weird, yeah. It's not often I go home with a guy and have breakfast with three of his buddies.
"Not that I go home with a lot of guys!" she quickly added. Her blush bought a healthier glow to her face.
B.A. chuckled. "Neither does Murdock," he joked, jabbing a thumb at the pilot.
Murdock continued working and humming, oblivious.
"How'd you two meet?"
"I was out last night in the field across the road. Even with the airport so close it's a good spot for star-gazing. There was a satellite passing by and my group wanted to track it."
"Group?"
"Amateur astronomers."
"Ah. And Murdock happened to show up?"
She smiled. "Yep. We don't mind new members, but usually they contact us so they know where we meet."
"Murdock's known for taking walkabouts," Hannibal supplied as he brought cups of coffee in.
Rio looked slightly confused. "Really? He seemed to know a lot about the satellite. And he was comfortable with the telescopes."
"We're always surprised about how much Murdock knows a lot about a lot of things," Hannibal added. He ignored B.A.'s snort, so she did as well.
She shrugged. "We hit it off and talked for a long time. He asked me to stay for breakfast . . ." She shrugged again.
"And a fine breakfast it shall be!" Murdock announced, coming in with a skillet. "For m'lady—" he added in a proper British accent.
With deft hands, he slid pancakes on to her plate.
"And for you, my brusque friend!" He gave the rest of the batch to B.A. "Beg pardon, m'lords," he apologized to Face and Hannibal, "you shall break your fast shortly."
Breakfast, thankfully, was quick. They all made polite conversation—Murdock's common non sequiturs and accents made Rio laugh, the rest ignored them through familiarity—but soon she pushed back from the table and announced that she really had to go.
Murdock and Face stood as she did; Murdock waved his friend back down in a not very subtle gesture that she missed, luckily. Face ceded to him graciously, instead of fawning too much over Rio as was his nature. She thanked them for the breakfast and conversation, and moved to step passed Murdock to get to the hallway.
He sidestepped the same way she did; and when she stepped to the other side, so did he. He looked befuddled as she giggled and said,
"I didn't realize it would be breakfast and dancing!"
In a rare moment of speechlessness, Murdock simply scooted aside and flourished his arm for her to pass.
They heard her go up the steps and across the floor to the bedrooms.
Murdock stood frozen to the spot.
"She seems nice," Hannibal commented.
"How's she gettin' back to town?" B.A. asked. "I didn't hear no car in the driveway last night."
"Oh. She's gotta—"
"James?" Rio called, interrupting his train of thought. He was still immobile.
"James?" B.A. mouthed across the table to Hannibal.
She called again, and again he didn't move.
"Murdock, far be it for me to try and advise you what, exactly, to do when a woman you've had overnight is calling for you the next morning," Face began diplomatically, "but—"
"No—Facey, help me!" Murdock interjected. He spun towards the three with a panicked look on his face. "I don't know what to do! Do I go up there right now? Do I play it cool? Hard to get? Tell me what to do—this is your area of expertise!"
"Well—"
But before he could answer, they heard her walking through the upstairs again.
"Agg!" Murdock groaned, clutching his face dramatically. "I've ruined it! It's too late! Your grand scheme is no use to me now, Face!"
Face stuttered and tried to . . . apologize? What did he have to apologize for?
"James?" Rio called a third time from the bottom of the stairs.
Murdock straightened and composed himself at the same time. Running a hand though his hair (the other three noted the gesture was reminiscent of Face's own, although Face certainly hoped his hair didn't end up all spiky and uneven like Murdock managed to do), Murdock left the room like he hadn't just had an anxiety attack.
"Sorry you have to go so soon," they heard him say.
As earlier, she muttered something they couldn't understand, then she with Murdock tagging behind came part way into the dining room again. She'd shed Murdock's worn shirt and replaced it with her own. Her jacket was half zipped and a helmet dangled from her hand. B.A. studied it with interest.
"Thanks again, you guys, for being so nice to . . . someone expected. Maybe I'll see you later?"
The three murmured their agreements. Rio smiled and headed back towards the front door, now with Murdock trailing. Before the door opened, it was obvious the two were talking again. Face couldn't resist leaning back in his chair far enough to catch a glimpse down the hallway. She and Murdock were standing close; their hips were pressed together but their torsos were at awkward angles. Murdock was staring down his chest in surprise, and suddenly Face didn't want to know what exactly was going on. He dropped his chair with an audible thump.
In only another few seconds the door opened and closed. A few more seconds after that, Murdock bounded back in to the group.
"Look! Look!" he exclaimed, holding his arm out for inspection. "I've been branded! Like cattle! Yippee-ki-ai!"
Rio had left her phone number on his forearm in marker.
Rio came around occasionally. B.A. was disappointed the helmet didn't go with a motorcycle, only a Vespa, but he agreed to look it over when it was "running funny." She sang the song snippet unconsciously, and always seemed to take Murdock's odd habits in stride, so no one thought twice about it. Murdock himself had been holding together pretty well; Hannibal was glad the combination of anti-psychotics were seeming to be holding their own, Face and B.A. privately thought him having a girl was keeping him on a steady path.
As is often the case with a group of friends, they only rarely saw her without Murdock. Typically she came to the house the four of them rented; on rare occasions he went to her place. They eventually noticed that he didn't spend more than several hours there; even if he went over in the evening, he was back before breakfast the next day.
She invited the group across the field sporadically to star-gaze. Murdock was always crest-fallen she denied him a bonfire every time, but he made up for it with grandiose re-enactments of myths of constellation creations. Once he was exhausted, they enjoyed the silence. It was amazing how loud crickets could be, and how loud ash burning from Hannibal's cigar was.
The peace and quiet lasted until it was noted that bats were flying overhead; then Murdock went off about vampires, then rabies, then vampires with rabies. Through her laughter, Rio was able to convince him to lie back down. The other three eventually wandered back to the house with the sound of her laughter drifting behind them.
Face found her in the kitchen once with a glass of water. Murdock was not with her, but she was staring at a bundle in her hand.
"Hey, Rio—what's up?"
"Hi, Face."
"What do you have there?"
She set the glass down and fingered the bundle. He saw it was a mass of paper, stapled together. She shrugged slightly. "It's a bunch of roses."
"Roses?"
"Yeah—see?" She held up the papers and riffled through them. Each sheet had been colored in slightly different shades of pink. As they flipped passed her fingers, the colors smeared together.
"James gave them to me. He said they'd last longer than "plant roses", she made finger quotes to indicate his actual words, "but he did advise me to water them anyway."
Face leaned on the countertop. "I don't think I'd do that."
"Thanks for the advice," she replied with plain sarcasm. "The water's for me. But this is kinda cool, huh? Quirky and sweet."
"Mm-hmm," he answered with as much eloquence as he was able. He wondered if he could get away with crayoned paper versus "plant roses", and figured that was only an option for Murdock.
One time a month or so into the relationship Face and B.A. had made a run to town and saw her walking down the street; they called to her repeatedly with no response.
"Rio! Rio!"
It was only when they almost physically caught up to her calling her name that she turned around in surprise.
"You have an iPod in?" Face asked, wiping his forehead. "We've been yelling for half a mile."
"What? Oh, no—" she laughed. "I'm sorry. That's not it at all. My name's not Rio."
That pulled them both up short.
"What?"
"My name's not Rio," she repeated, still laughing. "My name is actually Shannon."
She either ignored or didn't comprehend the perplexed expressions on the two men's faces.
"James just started calling me Rio," she continued with a shrug. "He said the name Shannon reminded him too much of the car bombs in Northern Ireland. And Shannon is the name of a river in Ireland, so, I figured he was just being clever."
They still looked confused. "Why didn't you say something before?"
Rio—Shannon—gave them a wilting glance. "Oh please. Why didn't you tell me your real name? I doubt your parents named you Face."
"Touché, mon cherie," Face managed to grin through the bizarreness.
"And I like Rio," she said haughtily. "It's exotic and sounds so much cooler. Besides, James told me his nickname, so I thought it was just a thing with you guys, you know?"
Even B.A. couldn't fault the logic too much, but he wondered privately if she really understood the way Murdock's mind jumped from subject to subject, and if she understood that Murdock didn't give himself his nickname, he earned it. Then he wondered about what kind of woman wouldn't tell people her real name—actually let them call her something different for a month! She seemed normal otherwise—and came to the conclusion she and Murdock just shared the same wavelengths.
The team typically didn't spend much time in one place, but Face managed to lease the house on a month-to-month and although he was working on their next contract, nothing else pressured them to leave. B.A. was content to tool around in the garage; Hannibal didn't let them slack off training but said the country air did him good. Face was a little put out he wasn't the one with a girl most nights, but he didn't voice the discontent to Murdock. It sounded petty.
It was all going almost—normal. Like a typical sitcom with four guys living together. Living in San Francisco. But none of them were gay. Hilarity ensues! Face chuckled at his own stupid train of thought as he re-adjusted his tanning eyewear.
He heard Rio—he still had a hard time thinking of her as Shannon—humming her song before she said, "Afternoon, Face," as she walked by him.
He shifted his head and one of the eyepieces fell off. He liked the idea of not having a white mark over the bridge of his nose, but these single pieces were a pain. "Hey. Murdock's upstairs, I think."
"Thanks."
As she continued to the house, he realized his abs were tense. Habit. He speculated whether or not she checked out his six-pack, then started chuckling again as he added her to the cast of the sitcom.
He once again settled the eyepiece against his eye.
Had he fallen asleep? What was that shrieking?
It only took Face a second to recognize the voice and bolt upright from his chair. The eyewear tumbled to the grass—fuck them—and B.A. hurried out of the garage.
"What's that fool up to now?"
Face didn't answer but sprinted for the house. He threw open the door and started up the stairs. Rio was supporting herself on the banister, holding her stomach and sobbing. The shrieking hadn't abated above them.
"What happened?" Face demanded. "What happened?"
He tried to grab her arms but she cowered back from him. She shook her head and refused to answer. Frustrated and frankly, scared by the noise from the second story, Face skirted the woman and darted up the stairs.
"Murdock! Murdock!" he called.
Rio, with minimal effort to control her weeping, stumbled out of the house.
By the time she made it to the garage, tears were still falling out of her eyes, but the active sniveling was slowing. Her stomach hurt and she continued to clutch it.
B.A. had half-heartedly gone back to his bike, keeping an ear out for other sounds from the house. She didn't startle him walking in, but her state did.
"Shannon! What's goin' on?"
She only started crying weakly again.
He got to her side and attempted, like Face, to take her elbow. She jerked away from him too, which made her moan and grip her stomach harder.
"Come on, Shannon. You need ta sit down."
Gingerly he herded her to a dirty lawn chair. She sat down with another audible moan. B.A. sank to his heels beside her. "Can you tell me what's goin' on?"
"I need to go," she whispered.
"I think you oughtta just relax here a minute—"
"I need to get out of here!" she said loudly, but doubled over.
B.A. gritted his teeth and cautiously put a hand on her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. Why wasn't Face dealing with her? She's a woman, and Face was Face, and much better suited for this sort of thing . . . then he realized Face was dealing with Murdock, and knew that that was a better choice all around.
He took a breath, reassessed the situation, and tried a different approach. Making an effort to speak more softly, he said, "Somethin's wrong with your stomach. Now I don't wanna jump ta any conclusions, but I've been punched in the gut lots of times. Seems to me somethin' like that might've happened to you . . ."
He trailed off, and was rewarded with a quick nod that accompanied more tears.
Face didn't have to guess, or follow the screeching. He bounded to Murdock's room and kicked the door out of the way, which caused his friend to cry out more sharply for a moment. Taking in the entire room in a glance, Face noticed that nothing was out of place, if Murdock simultaneously cowering and ramming his head into the far corner didn't count.
The pilot was pulling at his hair, and continued his high pitched keening. Face vaulted the bed and attempted to hold his friend steady.
Murdock fought against his hands wildly, still wordlessly yelping. Although he was slender, he was wiry, and Face had to wrap his arms around him and wrestle him to the bed. Face cursed under his breath that tanning oil was so slippery; it made it hard to get a tight grip. He bound Murdock's flailing legs in his own and held him immobile until he could catch his breath.
"Murdock—Murdock," he panted.
Murdock rocked impotently and continued to ululate wordlessly.
"Murdock, come on, buddy, please," Face went on steadily through the noise, close to his friend's ear. "Listen to me. Everything's okay. Everything's okay. I'm here with you, I'm right here. It's okay."
He continued in the same vein until he was able to feel minute relaxations in the man he was holding so tightly. Gradually Murdock calmed enough to stop attempting to fight away. His rocking slowed as the rigidity decreased, and instead of being tense he went limp, curling as much as Face would allow into a fetal position.
His wail was eventually replaced with soft sobs. Face didn't stop talking gently to him, encouraging him to relax. Face didn't stop holding him, either.
"Murdock punched you?"
Her nodded admission seemed to break the barrier of talking about it. Rio shrugged uneasily. "It happened so fast . . . I don't really know what happened. He might of kicked me."
B.A. clamped his lips.
"I mean," she gestured uselessly with one hand, since the other was still clutching her stomach, "one second I was right there, beside him, and the next, I was on the floor. I couldn't breathe!"
"You got the wind knocked outta ya," he told her. "You need ta relax. You're gonna be sore for a while."
She nodded miserably.
The two were silent for a moment.
"What set him off?"
If her nod was miserable, it was nothing compared to her shrug. "I don't know! Nothing! I went up to his room and he was there, looking out the window and talking to himself. I went up behind him and hugged him. Then . . . the rest."
"Crazy fool," B.A. spit. "Shannon, I ain't saying you did nothin' wrong. But you gotta know it's risky ta just walk up on him like that! He's nuts—you never know how he's gonna react to somethin'."
She blinked. "What?"
"Murdock!" he continued bitterly, ignorant to the fact she was growing tense beside him. "Howlin' Mad Murdock. He didn't just get a nickname like that for nothin'! The man is batshit."
B.A. suddenly realized the expression on her face wasn't pain any more, but horror.
By the time Hannibal got home, Rio was gone. He found B.A. still in the garage, just sitting, staring out the door. That was odd enough for him to stop and ask what was wrong.
The black man looked up. "Murdock wigged out," he said simply. "He hurt Shannon—"
"What? Why didn't you call me?"
"—it wasn't too bad, she just got the wind knocked out of her," B.A. answered without pause. "Face brought him back down. She left."
Hannibal watched him for a moment. The younger man dropped his head and didn't say anything more.
"Something else?" Hannibal prompted.
B.A. sighed. Hannibal waited.
"I think I messed it up, Bossman," he finally said. "I said some things I don't think shoulda been said. Not be me, at least. But how was I suppost ta know? How can anybody spend any time with Murdock and not know he's crazy?"
B.A. closed his eyes and didn't open them when Hannibal squeezed his shoulder.
In the house it felt like a tomb. Face met them in the kitchen, looking haggard and still only wearing boxers and a towel. In a low voice, he described the condition he found their friend in. He told them that Murdock had calmed, and was in one of his partial postictal states.
"We gonna have ta take him to a hospital?" B.A. asked, in a rare moment of concern for the man he routinely called to his face a crazy fool.
"No, I don't think so. He came out of it pretty fast and didn't do much damage to himself."
Hannibal kept his voice quiet too. "Was he able to tell you what set him off?"
"I can only guess," Face replied with a head shake.
"Well," the older man said with a sigh, "let's go see if he can articulate it now."
Face led them to the living room. Murdock was bundled in a blanket on the couch. He had a few abrasions on his forehead. He stared at the floor with glassy eyes, and didn't react to the three of them entering the room.
Face joined him on the couch. The motion rocked the pilot, and the weight on the cushions tipped him towards the other man. Face put an arm around him. Hannibal couched on the floor in front of the two, and looked up at the slack, unseeing face of his pilot.
"Murdock? How're you feeling, son?"
No response.
"We know that something happened up in your room. We'd like to know what it was, so we can help."
No response.
Hannibal flicked his gaze to Face, who lifted a shoulder to show he didn't know what else to do either.
"Murdock, man—"
Both Face and Hannibal turned to B.A. He still stood in the doorway.
"—listen. When Shannon—Rio came out of the house, she came inta the garage. I talked to her, man."
Face was surprised Murdock twitched.
"R-rio?" he whispered with a stutter. It was hard to tell from his tone if he was worried or just recognizing a word through the haze.
"Yeah! She came in, and I talked to her. She's fine! She got the wind hammered outta her, but she's fine." Murdock's head unsteadily came up to meet the black man's gaze. Suddenly uncomfortable under his stare, B.A. continued. "She, uh, didn't know, man. She said she came up behind you and hugged you, but she didn't know that would be a problem. She didn't mean anything!"
At the declaration of the cause of the problem, Murdock tensed again. Instinctively Face tightened his hold, which wasn't the best choice of action. Murdock yowled and tried to flail, but Face was able to wrap the blanket around him again and keep him in place.
Hannibal moved upward to help, but was held in check by the expression on his second in command's face.
"Don't—don't—don't—I have to move—don't—not again—" Murdock cried.
Face began soothing him again as Hannibal stood with a heavy sigh. He went quietly to B.A.
"Straight-jackets. He doesn't have that kind of attack too often, thank god."
B.A. could only nod.
When Murdock was calmed for the second time that afternoon and was sleeping fitfully on the couch, Face joined the rest of the team in the kitchen again.
"What did Rio tell you?" he demanded in a barely controlled whisper.
"Just what I said. She came up on him and hugged him!" B.A. answered just as softly-loud.
"And the other thing you told him? That she didn't know, and she didn't mean anything?"
"Why you accusing me, man?" B.A. replied. "She had no idea it'd knock a screw loose! Ain't my fault she had no clue he's nuts! Did you tell her?"
Face grit his teeth and ran a hand through his hair.
"Murdock never gave her that important little bit of information, did he?"
"So you did! You took it on yourself to—"
"It was a mistake, man! I didn't know she didn't know! She sings that damn song all the time, I figured it was a joke between them—"
Hannibal stepped in. "Both of you need to back off. This isn't helping anything!"
Face glared at B.A. for a moment and received the same glare back. In disgust, he turned and put his head on his forearm on the cabinets.
After a few minutes of silence, he said without turning around, "You said she left. How'd she leave, B.A.?"
"What you mean?"
"I think a woman would typically stick around to see how her boyfriend was doing. Even abused women do that. Rio never came back in. So how was she? Was she scared? Pissed? Or what?"
B.A. sunk in his seat. Face didn't need to turn around to note the defeat in his voice. "She bolted. I let slip Murdock's a basket case, and she ran."
Face pounded the cabinet, mindless of the chirp from Murdock in response. "I'm going to go find her."
"Now Face," Hannibal said. "Let's stop here for a moment. It may be best—"
"I am going to go find her, Hannibal," Face said, enunciating slowly. "It's only fair to Murdock."
Hannibal shook his head, but didn't stop him as he stomped upstairs for clothing. No one tried to stop him as he headed out the door either, which was probably for the best.
Relying on memory from a hastily drawn map Murdock tried to sketch him once, Face eventually found her place. It was the upstairs of a converted house, and as he made his way up the stairs, he prayed feverishly she'd be home.
There was no doorbell, so he rapped on the door non-stop until he saw the curtain move.
"Rio! Can I come in? Please? We need to talk," he said through the door, using his most persuasive smile and attitude.
He was rewarded with her opening the door. Her face was blotched from crying. She kept the chain lock in place.
"Come on, Rio, this is going to be really awkward through the door."
"I don't have anything to say to you."
"But I can explain! Murdock, he—well, he couldn't make it out here quite yet. So . . . so here I am. Please?"
He watched the expressions rotate on her face, and finally she settled on resigned. Whatever. He'd take what he could get. Once he was inside he'd make it all better. He tried not to grin in self-satisfaction as she undid the chain and held the door open for him.
Usually he was comfortable in any situation with a woman, but now that he was in, he suddenly didn't know what to do. Without gesturing for him to follow, Rio walked passed him to a small living room. He followed on her heels. When she sat on the couch, he carefully sat on the opposite side, perched on the edge instead of lounging like he owned the place.
He let her get as comfortable as he could judge before starting, and then she surprised him by speaking first.
"B.A. told me James is crazy."
Direct. Huh.
"Well, I guess there's no beating around the bush—"
"Crazy. Like crazy crazy? Insane? B.A. said batshit, and I figure that's a pretty universal standard, right?"
"B.A.'s a bit biased, and he didn't know you didn't know because of that 'Unwell' song you sing so—"
"You're trying to pin the blame on me because of an ear worm?"
"No! No, absolutely not! It's just that there was some confusion, and—"
"Tell me the truth!" she demanded. "Crazy crazy? Is that what he is?"
Her voice rose to almost a panicked pitch. He had to shush her and held up his hands.
"Okay—okay! Yes! Technically," he replied.
She stood up so fast she lost her balance. Face was immediately up with her, catching her upper arms to keep her steady. And to keep her from running, he realized. "Murdock's been in mental hospitals, yes. He's on a lot of different medications—"
"He mentioned medications," she interrupted dully. "I thought he meant just regular meds, like aspirin or asthma medications—"
"—and they're keeping most of his problems in check!" he interrupted in turn. "He's not been having hallucinations as frequently—"
"As frequently?"
"—and everything's been a pretty even keel lately. He's doing well, Rio." He looked over her face, searching for some empathy or understanding. "I think it's because of you. I think he's doing so well because of you."
She was taking heavy breaths now, and carefully he guided her back down to the couch. He was fairly confident she wouldn't run now and let her arms go. He let his hands find hers and held them in her lap. Face could tell she was trying to keep from crying, and let her be.
When she had composed herself again, he squeezed her hands.
"Do you want to know why he had an episode?" he asked softly.
Biting her lip, she nodded.
"You startled him. He didn't know you were there, and when you surprised him with a hug, he had a flashback. He's been in . . . different facilities, and sometimes he's been straight-jacketed. Any type of confinement he's not prepared for shocks him, so he reacted violently."
A small moan escaped her as she frowned.
"Are you okay?" Face asked in genuine concern. "B.A. said you got hit in the stomach. You'll probably have some bruising."
She nodded quickly.
"But hey," he continued with a smile, catching her eyes, "you know Murdock likes to hug. Pretty much anyone, anytime. So you know that's not going to be a problem, right? Just with some minor caveats."
He was feeling pretty good about this. Rio wasn't screaming or crying too much, and she seemed to be grasping some understanding.
She sat back with a groan, pulling her hands away from his to wipe her face. Face watched her. With her face covered, she groaned.
"I don't know, Face."
Suddenly, he didn't like the hard note in her voice.
"What's not to know?" he asked, lightly. "He's still the same guy you met."
"Is he?"
Keep it light, Faceman. "Sure he is!"
She dropped her hands and stared blearily at him. "Really? Are you going to give me a list of things that 'set him off?' Do you even know all the things that set him off? Do you promise me he'll be exactly the same, and never have problems—"
Face's smile dipped to a frown. "Can anyone promise that about anyone?"
"No. But it's probably a better bet to take if the person you start up with isn't already certified insane."
This was turning a direction he didn't like, and it was hard to force the frown away.
"You never even realized he had problems. Why is it an issue now?"
"Why? Why?" she spit, throwing her hands in the air. "You just told me he's crazy, Face! How can I go on with him now that I know that?"
"The same way you've been going on," he tried to say reasonably, without bitterness. "It's doesn't change anything."
"It does change everything!"
At the conviction in her voice, Face knew the battle was almost done. He turned half away from her and covered his face with his hands.
"I can't be with a crazy man!"
She stood up and stomped away. He let her go without lifting his head. He heard her move through the apartment and only picked up his head when he sensed her standing in front of him again.
She stood before him with the bundle of papers Murdock had given her. His roses. Unlike before, when she held them with care, now she was angry, and several of the sheets were wrinkled and torn.
"Roses!" she said with venom in her voice. She squeezed them again, crumpling them more. "I guess I'm glad this is what he came up with. I don't even want to imagine what he'd do if he thought irises were a better idea."
His voice was weak. "Oh, hey now—Rio—"
"My name is Shannon!" she spit at him, and threw the bundle at him. He fumbled it and caught it awkwardly. "Get out of my house."
"Shannon, please, you have to understand—"
"Get out."
"—Murdock's just . . . Murdock. He doesn't mean any harm, he doesn't do any harm, he's a good guy, and you're good for him—"
"Get out!"
"—please understand—"
"Get out!" she shrieked, and the pitch was so reminiscent of Murdock's during his episode earlier Face ducked.
He scrambled to his feet as she panted in front of him. He composed himself as best he could.
"I hope you'll think about all this," he said calmly, while his insides felt like jelly. He felt like he was the one kicked in the stomach, but continued on as best he could. "Once you think over all this, I hope you'll understand that nothing between you and Murdock changed.
"If nothing else, he's going to be beating himself up for this, and it would be beneficial if you'd let him apologize."
"Get. Out," she repeated once more, with a waver in her voice.
Face thought about offering the papers back to her, but since she wasn't looking at him anymore, he simply kept them in his hands and let himself out.
He couldn't swear to it, but she may have been crying as the door shut behind him.
Back at the farmhouse, Hannibal and B.A. were waiting. Any questions they had were stunted by the way he carried himself. Murdock had been moved back to his bedroom, and was motionless on the bed as Face quietly stepped into the room. He set the roses' papers on the bed near Murdock's head, and started to turn away.
He barely noticed Murdock's fingers curl over the paper, but when he did, he climbed over his friend and spooned against him, even as Murdock twisted in on himself. Face rested his head on the back of Murdock's neck as tiny sobs shook the pilot.
fin.