POW CAMP, VIETNAM, 1970:
The young lieutenant cried out in pain as his captor shoved him back into the hut where he and his fellow prisoners were being kept. He landed face down, sending up a cloud of dust around him. The guard yelled something at him in Vietnamese and then disappeared, slamming the door so hard that the whole hut shook with the force of it. The lieutenant turned his head to one side and coughed hoarsely, trying to expel the filthy earth from his mouth and nostrils. Then he lay still, his breath coming in ragged, painful gasps. Dirt and rocks covered the crude floor and dug painfully into the open wounds on his bare chest, but he didn't dare move any more. It hurt too much to move.
His captain, a soft-spoken man a few years his senior, scrambled over to him, a look of horror on his face. Their other comrade, the tough-as-nails sergeant who had a reputation for being bad-tempered, followed suit.
"What did they do to you?" Murdock hissed. He sat down beside Face and gently turned him onto his back, cradling the younger man's head and shoulders in his lap. Face rested his head in the crook of Murdock's right elbow. With his free hand the captain reached down and smoothed Face's sweat-damp hair.
"Piñata practice." Face mumbled. His lip curved up in an attempt at a smile, but it quickly turned into a pained grimace.
"I've seen busted piñatas in better condition than you." Murdock muttered. B.A. sat across from Murdock and the two men tended their comrade as best they could.
Murdock swore under his breath as he saw the extent of Face's injuries. "I don't understand you sometimes! You've had more than your fair share of beatings already. Whaddaya gotta go and take mine for?"
"Colonel says we're gonna escape." Face gasped.
At the mention of their commanding officer Murdock glanced up at the window, which looked out into the jungle. Hannibal was out there right now with a group of other prisoners; they had all been chosen for some kind of forced labor that day. Murdock knew Hannibal would take the opportunity to learn the layout of the surrounding jungle. Anything to help in their escape.
"If he says it's gonna happen," Face continued, breaking into his thoughts. "then it'll happen. When it does, our only hope of gettin' outta here is if you can fly us out. You couldn't fly in this condition."
Murdock snorted. "Buddy, you are lookin' at the best pilot the U.S. Army has ever seen. I could fly in a coma!"
Face laughed weakly. "Thanks, but I'd rather not test that theory."
"You can't take much more of this." Murdock persisted. "Another beating like this one and you won't live long enough to escape."
"You guys will." Face murmured.
"Escape don't mean nothin' unless we all make it out alive!" B.A. told him vehemently.
"That's right." Murdock agreed. "Colonel always says that we go out together or we don't go out at all."
"Murdock, your grandparents raised you, didn't they?" Face asked. Murdock nodded.
"They're still alive, right?"
"Yeah."
"I thought so." Face mumbled. "See you've got somethin' to go home to. You've got people waiting for you. I got no family waiting on me to come home—I don't even have a home to go back to."
Murdock knew that Face had gone straight from the orphanage where he grew up, to a college dorm, to Army barracks. He had nothing back in the States. No home, no family...no reason to go on fighting.
It was time to change that.
"Hey," Murdock whispered. "When you were growing up in that orphanage, did you ever wish you had a big brother?"
Face nodded weakly. "All the time."
Murdock took Face's hand and clasped it tightly in his. "You've got one now."
B.A. grasped Face's other hand. "Got two now."
"And Hannibal's the best father any of us could ask for." Murdock said, nodding towards the window.
"Two brothers and a father." B.A. summed up.
"You hear that?" Murdock looked down at his wounded friend again. "You've got a family now. You've got something to live for. So you hang in there, little brother, cuz we're all gonna get out of this together."
LANGLEY, VIRGINIA, 1986:
Face watched in amusement as his comrades fought for possession of the anchovy-ridden pizza.
"C'mon, B.A.!" Murdock insisted. "It's a get-well present for Faceman!"
B.A. paused and considered this. To everyone's surprise, he relented and handed the box back to Murdock. The pilot grinned and made his way around the couches. He sat down on the coffee table and opened the pizza box.
"Looks delicious." Face said.
"You sure it's a good idea, though, Face?" Hannibal sounded dubious. Murdock gave him a questioning glance.
"Face has been having trouble keeping solids down today." the Colonel explained.
Murdock looked apologetic. "Well if I had known that—"
Face grinned at him. "For a get-well pizza from you, Murdock, I'll risk it."
He winced as Murdock helped him sit up. "All right?" Murdock asked, propping a pillow up behind his friend.
"Interesting thing about getting shot." Face grunted. "You learn about a lot of muscles you didn't know you had."
"Believe me, pal, I know the feeling." Murdock gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
B.A. got some paper plates from the kitchen (and got himself a sandwich) and brought them into the living room. Everyone gathered around and took slices of the pizza. Face chose a piece that spelled out part of his name in anchovies.
Conversations drifted in every direction as they all talked and laughed and enjoyed one another's company. Face couldn't help noticing that these moments usually only seemed to happen when one of them was recovering from an injury.
When he had finished eating, Face eased back down and settled himself into the pillows.
"How ya feelin' now?" Murdock asked him.
"Pretty good." Face gave a contented sigh and stifled a yawn. "Actually I'm, uh, I'm getting kinda...sleepy." The yawn escaped this time.
Murdock smiled at him. "Well...a good meal, comfortable couch...that'll do it every time."
"Yeah," Face mumbled.
"Not to mention those pain pills you're on." Murdock added with a grin.
"Yeah, that'll do it too." Face agreed sleepily, looking at his friend from beneath half-closed lids.
"You get some sleep now, 'kay?" Murdock urged.
"Mm, no argument here." Face turned on his side and nestled his head into the pillow. Murdock pulled the blanket up to his friend's shoulders. The action was met with a barely audible "Thanks, Murdock," as Face drifted off. Within moments the younger man was fast asleep.
He slept soundly through the rest of the evening and on into the night. When he awoke much later, he looked around in bleary-eyed confusion. The room was dark, but the moonlight streaming in through the windows cast enough light for him to see Murdock asleep on the other couch.
Something was wrong, Face thought vaguely. Something had woke him. His side felt strange. He felt something warm and sticky...
He reached a hand down, felt the blood seeping through his pajamas—
"Murdock!" He called out in a hushed, urgent voice. "Murdock!"
The pilot jerked awake and was at his side in an instant. "What is it?"
"Murdock, something's wrong. I-I'm bleeding—" Face was only half-awake and he was starting to panic.
"Hey, hey, it's all right." Murdock soothed. He switched on a nearby lamp and knelt down beside the couch. "Here, lemme see." He untied the sash on Face's robe and unbuttoned the nightshirt underneath.
"Murdock, what happened?" Face raised his head up to look.
"It's all right, it's all right," Murdock assured him gently. "You're okay. You just busted a couple of stitches, that's all. Here," he reached behind him and grabbed a box of tissues from the coffee table. He pulled out several and pressed them against the wound. "Hold those there for a second. I'll get the first-aid kit."
Face held the tissues in place, and Murdock returned a few seconds later.
"What time is it?" Face asked drowsily.
Murdock checked his watch. "Bout two in the mornin'." He set the first-aid kit on the coffee table and opened it up. "I'm gonna stitch that wound back up, all right?"
He picked up a small glass bottle and shook it. It was empty. "We're all out of numbing medicine. Probably used the last of it on B.A., to keep him from feeling a sedative shot." Murdock grinned, then turned serious again. "I'm gonna have to do this without the numbing drops. It's gon' hurt a bit." He set to work stitching the wound back up as gently as he could.
One. Face winced. Two. He closed his eyes. The needle punctured his skin a third time, then a fourth time.
"Last one, okay?" Murdock pulled the needle through one final time and tied off the last stitch. Then he helped Face pull the bloodstained nightshirt the rest of the way off. Face held up the garment and examined it with a grimace. "Aw, and these were my favorite pajamas, too."
"It's all right." Murdock said. "We'll just spray on a little stain remover, throw it in the wash tomorrow—it'll be good as new. Here, give it to me." He took the shirt and laid it on the counter in the adjoining kitchen area.
Face shivered and reached for the blanket that had fallen to the floor.
Murdock picked it up and handed it to him. "Hold on a second—" Murdock disappeared into Face's room and returned a moment later with a fresh nightshirt. "Here you go."
"Thanks Murdock." Face smiled at his friend. He pulled the nightshirt on and buttoned it up, then he eased back down carefully and pulled the blanket up around his shoulders.
"All right now?" Murdock asked him. "All settled?"
"Mm, yeah." Face murmured.
"Good," Murdock switched off the lamp and started back to the other couch.
"Murdock?" The pilot stopped and turned back to his friend.
"I've, uh, got something...I've been meaning to tell you."
Murdock sat back down on the coffee table and regarded his friend in the dimness. "What is it?"
"Do you remember...the-the day you became my big brother?"
"'Course I remember it." Murdock's smile was genuine, but his eyes clouded over with a haunted look. It was always hard, even now, so many years later, to think about the prison camps.
"I'll never forget what you said to me that day," Face locked eyes with his brother. The same haunted look passed between both of them. "You said 'You've got a family now. You've got something to live for. So you hang in there, little brother, cuz we're all gonna get out of this together.' Murdock I never told you this, but—" he swallowed. "—that was the only thing that got me through that prison camp. It was the only thing that kept me alive out there. You saved my life that day, Murdock."
He swallowed again and continued. "On Monday night, when I was laying on that kitchen floor, bleeding...dying...about ready to give up...I remembered those words, and I repeated them over and over again in my head—" he wriggled his hand out from under the blanket and held it out. Murdock grasped it tightly. "—and it was the only thing that got me through...again."
"I thought you were gonna die that night!" Murdock's voice finally broke. He clutched Face's hand with both of his and pressed his forehead against his knuckles. His choked sobs cut through the stillness like a knife. When he raised his head again, the tears rolling down his cheeks glistened in the moonlight.
Face kept silent. This was something Murdock had been holding in since Monday. All the anxiety, the worry...the sheer terror of that night had finally been released. Murdock took a steadying breath and repeated, more calmly. "Face, I thought you were gonna die. It was my fault you were shot. I never would've forgiven myself if...Face I'm sorry."
"Hey," Face tightened his grip on his brother's hands. "Hey...this is me and you we're talkin' about, remember? 'We don't have to stumble over our lips apologizing.' Isn't that what you told me? That's something else I'll never forget."
Murdock's eyes met his, and the pilot smiled. "Yeah. That's true. That's true, isn't it?" he released Face's hand and patted him on the shoulder. "You should get back to sleep now."
"You too," Face said. "You've been through a lot the last couple of days."
"Me?" Murdock raised his eyebrows. "You're the one who was shot!"
"Yeah," Face agreed. "But I've been blissfully out of it for most of that time— unconscious, sedated, asleep—Hannibal says you've hardly slept at all since Monday."
"No." Murdock admitted. "Guess I haven't." He stretched and laid back down on the other couch . "Hey," he raised his head and looked over at his little brother one more time. "You need anything else, I'll be right here, okay?"
"I know you will, Murdock." Face mumbled as he drifted off to sleep. "I know you will."
FINI (or ALMOST FINI, as it were)