Title: Bang for the Buck
Summary: A bullet can still cause damage, even with a bullet-proof vest. Face finds that out the hard way. Alternate scene/what-if scenario taking place in "Incident at Crystal Lake".
Face felt the bullet slam into his chest like a goddamn… bullet to the chest. He hit the window, and only had time to mentally curse before his back made a painful impact with the ground. He felt the sharp press of broken glass and wood against his back and wondered for a brief moment if that would kill him before the bullet did. But then he remembered the vest.
He heard a scream and some scrabbling coming from inside the house, and he scrambled to his feet, ignoring the sharp pain in his ribs. He hurtled toward the lake as fast as his trembling legs could carry him and dove in without a second thought.
More shots sounded, and close. Face's breath hitched and he almost swallowed some of that lovely lake water. He waited as long as he could, surfacing carefully by the dock only when he couldn't handle holding his breath any longer, keeping low and out of sight until his attacker turned tail and ran.
Alright, then. About time to climb out of this lake, isn't it? Face shook his head and carefully placed his hands on the dock. Okay… One, two—
He pushed himself up. And almost fell right back into the lake as pain exploded in his side.
"Oh, God—!" Gritting his teeth against his suddenly spotty vision, Face continued to push against the pain, managing to get a leg up onto the dock and roll to safety.
He didn't move for a minute after that, taking in short shallow breaths as he tried to get his bearings. Hannibal. Gotta warn Hannibal… Steeling himself, Face took in a deep breath to push himself up, only to flop right back over as the breath caused the pain in his side to spike. Bruised ribs, then? Tentatively, Face reached to his side and pressed lightly against the tender area. His reward was more of that sharp and almost unbearable pressure, and his vision nearly whited out completely. Oh, jeez… Just perfect.
"Face!" Oh, there was Hannibal now. Despite the situation, Face felt himself relaxing some as the colonel rushed over to him and took a knee at his side.
"Colonel, what happened?" Murdock. Did he manage to dig up that fresh pig?
"Man, what's going on out here? I heard shots." BA. The whole gang. Face felt himself relax even more, knowing the team was there.
Hannibal ignored them, reaching down to place a hand at the back of Face's neck, tilting it back slightly so Face could breathe easier.
"Lieutenant," he said, his voice serious in a way it rarely ever was these days. "Where you hit?"
"Single shot, in the vest, no entrance," Face recited dutifully, wincing at the pain the words caused his side. "Guy was about… three feet away. Think I got myself a bruised rib." His head jerked toward his injured side and Hannibal's gaze followed. The colonel scrutinized the area carefully for a moment and then called back to their hovering teammates.
"Murdock, help me get him up so we can get this vest off."
Murdock bounded over to them in a second, squatting down by Face's head. Face tried to shoot him a smile, but his mouth was a little shaky. Murdock's brow furrowed as he leaned forward.
"Alright, you ready, muchacho?" he asked gently. Face felt the pilot's arms reach down under his back and lift. He sucked in a harsh breath of air at the movement but did his best to help the process. It hurt like a bitch, but Face thankfully held in the urge to scream.
His breathing was labored once he was up, and Hannibal and Murdock paused to give him a moment's rest.
"Breathe deep, lieutenant," Hannibal said firmly. "We don't want you getting any chest infections." Face nodded and began to take in shaky but deep breaths, forgetting not to wince. Murdock was muttering something over by his ear, something Face figured was supposed to be either comforting or amusing, something designed to distract him from the pain, but he didn't even try to keep track of the words. Trying to breathe around bruised ribs was just too much effort, and Murdock's voice was soothing enough without Face needing to know what he was saying.
Between Murdock and Hannibal, Face was soon divested of that God awful life-saving vest, and his body felt the freedom acutely.
But then Hannibal began to press down on his injury, and the relief disappeared. Face's relatively smooth breaths faltered and they suddenly came out pained and hitched, choked noises escaping his throat. Almost immediately, he felt Murdock's hold on him tighten, heard the pilot's low stream of inanities increase in volume.
"Steady as she goes, Face," Murdock said. Face shook his head and forced himself to resume his deep breathing as Hannibal finished his inspection. Good God. And here Face'd thought this was supposed to be a quiet—if a bit boring—vacation by a lake. What had he been thinking?
"Hannibal, how bad is it?" BA asked, looking on from where he stood behind the colonel. Hannibal's brow furrowed and he gently but firmly continued to press against Face's side. Face tried not to whimper and cry like a kid, but it was surprisingly difficult. Hannibal's damn poking hurt!
Oh man, I must be getting soft.
"I don't feel any movement under the skin, Face," Hannibal reported, a hint of relief in his voice as he finally removed his hand from Face's side. "No shifting and no cracking." He shot Face a smirk. "Glad to see you still know the difference between a bruised and broken rib." Face rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to meet sarcasm with sarcasm, but was abruptly cut off as a hacking cough ripped itself from his throat. He hunched over instinctively, body shivering and convulsing as he just about hacked up a lung. Murdock's hands held tight to him, though, and Hannibal pressed against his shoulders to keep him from moving too much.
"Alright, that's it," Hannibal said sharply, all humor gone from his voice. "BA, Murdock, get him up and back into the cabin. Ranger Sherman, if you wouldn't mind accompanying us, we have some questions for you." Oh, boy. Hannibal's voice was like iron, and Face winced in sympathy for that poor ranger. He wanted to speak up just to remind Hannibal that she wasn't the one who'd shot him, that she'd just gotten caught up in this mess—whatever this mess was—but his coughing had yet to subside.
"Easy, Faceman," BA coached quietly, kneeling down by Face's good side as Hannibal stood to his feet. "Easy."
"You feelin' any pain in your back or shoulder, there, buddy?" Murdock asked, carefully shifting around to look Face in the eyes. Face shook his head, busy trying to get his breath back as the coughing finally lightened. Murdock gave BA a careful look and moved in closer to Face.
"Well, maybe we can rule out a collapsed lung, then," he exclaimed. "Alright, Face, spit for me." Face gave Murdock an impatient look but complied, turning and spitting onto the dock. Regular saliva, no bloody mucus anywhere to be seen. Murdock's shoulders settled and he turned to Hannibal.
"No internal bleeding," he said hopefully. Hannibal nodded but didn't look entirely convinced.
"Maybe," he allowed. Face turned to Hannibal and shook his head. The piercing throb in his side was agonizing yes, but he knew that the vest had done its job. He was alive at least, and he wasn't going into shock or cardiac arrest, which most likely meant minimal if any internal bleeding. "Face, you were shot at point-blank range and you fell out of a window." Face sheepishly looked away. Yeah, not his finest performance, even he had to admit. "Now, until we can verify with a doctor that you don't have internal bleeding, we're going to assume it's a possibility. No chances taken, lieutenant, understood?" Face grimaced and nodded. "Good. Now, BA and Murdock, get him to the cabin."
With that, Hannibal turned and gripped Jenny's arm, leading her back toward the cabin, only pausing to call, "And keep breathing deep" over his shoulder.
For a moment, Face forgot himself and stuck his tongue out petulantly at the back of his retreating CO - former CO - then turned his attention back to BA and Murdock. He scowled when he saw that Murdock was grinning.
"Oh, shut up," he grumbled, wincing at how his voice shuddered over the words. This was not his day at all, was it? He got shot, he fell out a window, he lost the one fish he managed to catch. Not. His. Day.
"Okay, Face, keep breathing just like Hannibal said," BA's voice cut into his thoughts and Face fought back a flinch, realizing that he'd subconsciously reverted to shallow and short breaths after Hannibal left, the only way he could really breathe without agitating his ribs further. He gave BA a short nod and mentally counted to three before pulling in a long and labored breath, instinctively trying to pull away from the knives that seemed to be spearing into his side as he did so.
"Alright, we gonna lift you now," BA said, giving Murdock a nod as he braced his arm against Face's back. "Now don't push it. Let us do the work, man."
"Strap in, Face, and hold tight," Murdock added, his grin gone, and his arm pressed around Face's shoulders. Face could barely nod as he pulled in another breath, the muscles surrounding his ribs protesting vehemently to the action.
Then BA and Murdock were lifting him, and his abdominal muscles clenched automatically, too used to pulling him up every time he stood. But the movement tugged at something, something too close to Face's injured rib, and the bunching and clenching of the pained muscles sent a spark through his side. Something furious and burning ripped through him and he collapsed forward, a low and guttural sound rumbling through his chest.
Stop, stop, stop!
Murdock and BA were both speaking to him, telling him that he was fine, that everything was okay, he was up, just take a minute to breathe, just keep goddamn breathing.
Shut up about the breathing!
The moments it took for Face's side to calm even somewhat felt like hours, but finally Face was ready to move. And if he was leaning against BA more than he'd been a second ago, the big man said nothing of it. BA and Murdock were slow with the pace, and as much as Face wanted to protest to being treated like a child with a boo-boo, he couldn't deny that attempting to move any faster would have had him doubling over again.
"Don't worry, Faceman, once this is all over, we'll find you a nice lollipop for being such a good patient."
Face turned to glare at Murdock, the look only intensifying when the pilot turned a teasing grin on him. Well, next time, let him get shot in the bullet-proof fishing vest and see how he liked it. And no, that wasn't childish, it was just turnabout.
"Yeah, or we can go find the guy that did this and make 'im pay," BA growled to Face's other side. Face's breathing stuttered momentarily, and he looked down to hide a sudden wash of self-consciousness. Over ten years with his team, and he was still sometimes taken aback by their shows of protectiveness.
"Oh, I think that such actions are indeed in our immediate future, my good Baracan fellow," Murdock replied in a drawling voice with a sharp grin, dark eyes flashing dangerously. "Much to the misfortune of our perpetrator." Just as suddenly, though, the look was gone, and the icy grin had morphed back to the crazy nutso one Murdock normally wore.
"But first, lollipops, BA, lollipops!"
Face coughed out a laugh and fought back a smile.
Just some research I did for this fic (there was more than I thought there'd be!):
Bullet-proof vests don't prevent the impact of a bullet to a person's chest, even if they do for the most part prevent the bullet from piercing the skin.
Ribs are tough bones to break, but bullets carry a great amount of force with them, especially if they're shot from point-blank range. If the vest the target is wearing does a poor job spreading that impact around the chest, then all that force will be focused on one area, and could definitely be enough to cause a bruise, at least.
Breathing in deeply and allowing the lungs to expand completely despite the pain involved when one has a bruised or broken rib helps minimize the chance of chest infections (though I am unsure how much of this the A-team would have known, as the practice of bandaging bruised or broken ribs and thus constricting the lungs' room to expand was still in practice until the late 80s/early 90s; I took some creative license with that).
If I got any of that wrong, lemme know via PM!
Well then! Le fic, she is done, and I hope any and all readers enjoy it!