CHAPTER THREE "Bad Moon Rising" Creedence Clearwater Revival"

The Beach House, Los Angeles

One Week Later

Murdock's POV

I am the king of bizarre conversations, believe me. But nothing has ever topped the one the guys and I had during halftime when Face brought up a couple of questions about my unique "situation."

Face danced around the question for a while then finally asked, "So, is there anything that could actually kill you? Are you, like truly immortal?"

I thought about that for a while. "Well, considering I've been killed a lot and I'm still here, I would say immortal is a pretty safe bet, yeah. Can anything kill me? Haven't found it yet, and when I do, I guess I won't know, will I?"

Hannibal snickered at that, but Face flushed, obviously upset. I leaned forward "Don't, Face. It's okay. I made my peace with it a long time ago. In all this time, I've never found anyone else like me...so I'm okay...no matter what happens." He nodded, and I was grateful when Hannibal took up the question again. He ticked the points off on his fingers:

"Okay, you ever been poisoned?"

"Yeah, that happened in Italy. I got a bad cannoli. An' I know fire don't work, either."

"What, you got burned at the stake?" Face couldn't resist, and I was glad to see him smile.

I rolled my eyes. "That was a little before my time, Facey." The others laughed, and I couldn't help but grin, though the memory was anything but pleasant. "Nah, fire doesn't do it, trust me."

BA frowned. "Gas?"

I chuckled, "Don't look at me."

BA scowled. "No, Fool! I meant, what about a gas attack?"

"Yeah. Ypres. 1915." No need to elaborate on that one judging by the expressions.

Hannibal nodded. "Well, obviously, heights, plane crashes, and being shot don't do it. either."

Face brightened. "Ever been hit by a train?"

BA's eyebrows shot up. "That's cold, man!"

Face splayed his hand across his chest, "I didn't mean he should try it! I was just curious!"

"Not a train, but I got hit by a semi once, hitchhiking, so that counts."

"Sword-fight? Duel? You know, defending a lady's honor?" Face waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

I looked askance at Facey and sighed. He'll never change. "Stabbed a couple times. I even got turned into shish kebab one time."

BA tipped his head. "Drowned?"

Here I went into my best Humphrey Bogart and leaned forward. "As a matter of fact, I have, sweetheart. Titanic. Traveling incognito for the government."

Okay, I hadn't been traveling on the government's dime, but that was a minor point...

"Explosion?" Hannibal's interest was keen on this one.

I shook my head wincing at the memory. "Bank heist in Deadwood, 1879."

Face's eyes got big. "You robbed a bank?"

I sighed. "No, Facey. Of course not. I worked in the bank. The dummy that tried to blow the safe blew the whole building instead."

Face nodded sagely. "That'd do it."

Hannibal thought about it. "So maybe those legends about Immortals are true."

I looked at Hannibal. "How's that?"

"You know, about beheading being the only the way to kill an immortal." Hannibal grinned. "Better watch your head, Captain."

Face frowned. "That can't be right, Colonel."

Hannibal looked at him. "Why not?"

"Well, because of the bank job in Deadwood." Face looked at me. "You said the whole building got blown up, right?"

I nodded.

"Well, did you, er, did your head, umm, you know…" He ran his hand under his collar, the way he does when he's uncomfortable.

I saw where he was going with this. I stood and paced the room, slapping an imaginary riding crop into my palm as I dropped into my most upper crust British character.

"Ah. What you want to know is if my head took leave of my body at any point in that most unfortunate debacle. Well, Master Peck," I turned back and gazed directly at him. "Let me assure you that while there was a great deal of damage inflicted upon my person, at no time did my extremely pleasing visage depart ways with the rest of this fine specimen of homo sapiens." Dropping the accent and flopping back into my chair, I grinned. "So, no...never happened."

I waited, because I knew what was coming. It didn't take long…

They were silent for a few minutes as it all began to sink in. Face played nervously with his hair for moment before finally venturing, "Uh, Murdock, when I found you, you weren't even hurt...I mean, not even bruised. And I saw you hit the ground. I saw the-the-"

He broke off, unable to continue, and I unfolded myself from my chair and moved to kneel in front of him. He was hurting, and I spoke gently, "You saw the crater where I hit. I'm sorry, Faceman."

"I mean, Murdock, that had to hurt!" Face was miserable.

I chuckled. "Yeah, pretty much the understatement of the decade! I've sorta gotten used to it."

A troubled expression crossed Templeton's face. "Has this ever happened to you before...I mean, since you've been...you know, with-with us?"

Hannibal and BA looked shocked but waited anxiously for the answer.

I blew out my breath and sighed. I sat back down and scratched my cheek. This was not going to be easy. "Yeah. Twice."

All teasing gone from his tone, Hannibal looked directly at me "When?"

"Once in 'Nam, and once back in '74. Not too long after I got to L.A."

At their murmurs of protest, I held up my hand. "Wait. I'll tell you everything." I paused, trying to figure out how to explain the unexplainable. "Well, as you guys know, I can be injured."

Hannibal nodded. "Yeah, I was wondering about that. How does that work? You said it hurts when it happens, and when you wake up. Yet Face said you didn't have a scratch on you when he found you in the desert. And you slept almost three days straight when we got you back here."

Face chimed in, "And yet, you've been wounded before...that time you got shot in the hills you nearly died on us."

I nodded. "I don't exactly understand how it works, and there doesn't seem to be a real frame of reference, since, as the colonel pointed out, the only other immortals in existence seem to be in legend, but only fatal injuries seem to regenerate and heal completely. The amount of time it takes seems to depend on the severity of the damage to my body. I'll spare you the details, since I don't really remember them, but for example, in Deadwood, it was several days before I was restored to er...proper working… umm… order."

Face turned slightly green, and BA looked like he wanted to smack me upside the head.

I shrugged. I should probably lay off, but I love picking on them!

Hannibal asked, "So, getting back to what you said before, what happened in 'Nam, and then here?"

I stretched and rolled my shoulders. "Well, actually 'Nam was after we met, but before we got back together here."

I felt myself slip into what we call the thousand-mile zone, and I knew the others could probably see it in my eyes. "Reader's Digest version? Shot down. Crashed. Cong found me. Escaped before they could bury me seven months later. Walked out. Landed in the VA. Got shot during a mugging a year later."

I felt their stares. I couldn't help them. The dead-eyed recitation of facts they had never known likely shook them all to the core. And I was suddenly exhausted. I leaned back in my chair and shut my eyes, done with conversation for a while.

I never even heard the rest of the game.

~TBC~