Chapter Seven: In Their Hearts

The wait was excruciating. Templeton thought he'd been in danger of exploding while waiting for James to get through his initial examination, but that was nothing compared to this. They'd been in there for hours! Hours where they had his buddy laid out on a table like a piece of meat while impersonal hands cut into him, touching a part of him that no one had ever physically laid eyes on before.

And maybe those hands were fighting for H.M.'s life, but how long would they be willing to battle for a life they'd never celebrated? How could they understand how important their task was when they hadn't been there with him through all the pilot's highs and lows. They'd never stayed up all night with James when he was terrified that the hallucination threatening him would attack while his defenses were low. They had never seen the manic gleam in the green eyes when Pike's clothes and all the towels had "mysteriously disappeared" from the showers, and the asshole had been forced to streak through the base back to his tent.

They had no fucking clue. If Murdock died, they may be momentarily disappointed that they'd failed, but they would go on with their happy little lives and soon dismiss him from memory.

Face absently ran fingers through his hair before collapsing in the waiting room chair. *If he dies, I'm going to….* Well, he didn't know what he would do, but he knew whatever it was would be loud and gut-wrenching.

Movement at the doorway had them glancing up. When Face saw it was Dr. Wicker, he sprang to his feet and would have grasped the surgeon's arms in desperation if Bosco hadn't gently held him back. Hannibal faced the other man with worry saturating his expression.

Templeton let out an explosion of breath as the doctor smiled. "Everything's looking good… better than I'd hoped, actually." Dizziness hit the conman hard after the pronouncement. He didn't hear the concerned voices calling his name, nor did he feel himself being led to a chair and made to put his head down between his legs. As the room stopped spinning and he felt like he could finally breathe again, all he knew was that his prayers had been answered.

His brother would be okay.


Murdock felt… floaty and weighted down. He knew that was a contradiction, but it was truly the best description he could come up with. He remembered enough to know he was in another fucking hospital. Thankfully he wasn't in a straitjacket, nor did the drugs flowing through his system feel like the usual anti-psychotic cocktail. *So I'm in the regular, "Let me wake this guy up to give him a sleeping pill and quit pulling out your catheter Mr. Murdock… you'll pee like a man when I tell you so," hospital.*

He must not have talked to anyone, then. It normally didn't take very long to listen to him conversing with something they couldn't see before they drug out the Rorschach ink blot test.

Sometimes he wishes he could go back in time and make an ink blot out of Rorschach himself.

James gave an involuntary moan as he fought his way out of the vat of molasses he'd been swimming through. He immediately felt hands on him, but whatever drug they had hit him with kept him from panicking as he normally would have done. A few seconds more of struggling with consciousness had him recognizing that the touch was coming from his friends.

No nurse's hands were ever that warm.

Whoever was holding his right hand squeezed, infusing him with enough strength to complete his journey. Blinking open his bleary eyes, he took a moment to be thankful that the lights in the room were dimmed. James always considered hospital lighting to be harsh and artificial.

Three faces were staring down at him. They all looked like crap, but their wide grins were enough to bring one to his own face. "Hi guys," Murdock's voice was weak and scratchy, about one tenth of its normal strength, but his friends acted like it was the best thing they'd ever heard.

"Welcome back, Captain," Hannibal's hand lightly squeezed his shoulder, and James didn't have the heart to tell him the action had hurt like hell. "It's about time you decided to grace us with your presence."

"Yeah, you lazy asshole," Face squeezed his hand again. "I've got much better things to do than watch your ugly ass sleep."

"Ugly?!" Murdock feigned anger. "Compared to you, I'm Helen of fuckin' Troy!"

Temp snorted with humor. "You obviously haven't looked into a mirror yet." He gestured to the pilot's body.

Sure enough, there were all kinds of tubes and shit weaving in and out of him, like they'd just pulled him out of the Matrix or something. And in the rare places where his skin was free of medical paraphernalia, he was adorned by a random bruise or scrape. "Fuck me… am I part cyborg now, like the six million dollar man?"

Still grinning like a loon, Face started laughing. "Six mil? I wouldn't pay a plug nickel for you, you maniac." The words were coupled with an affectionate rubbing of his arm.

As lighthearted as the banter was between he and his best friend, Murdock felt the tension in the air and realized with shock that Bosco hadn't said a single word. At least it was normal for Hannibal to sit back and let the insults flow, but B.A. never missed an opportunity to get a dig in. He looked to see the black man standing beside their commanding officer wearing an expression of relief, mixed with tension.

"You okay, big guy?"

The others looked to the corporal as well, awaiting his answer.

In response, B.A. sighed and came closer before taking his recently discarded seat. Hannibal offered to leave the room with Face so the two could talk, but the large man shook his head. "Naw, Colonel. What I got to say is for all of you to hear." He took a deep breath. "Murdock, man. I'm so sorry for what I did back there on the river."

Murdock smiled. "It's okay. I know that…." He was interrupted when B.A. gently placed a hand across his mouth.

"No, it's not okay. It was stupid and heartless, and I put us all through a lot of shit, but mostly you." Bosco sighed and scratched the back of his head. Murdock knew that the big guy hated anything even remotely touchy-feely, (especially words), so he remained silent while he got everything he needed to say out in the open.

"Murdock, I know I don't say it much, but you're my friend. I don't like it when you see shit that ain't there, but I understand that you do. And normally I can tolerate it better than I did on this trip, but I let my anger take control of me long enough to forget that you do actually believe in that dog."

James reached out for Bosco's hand. "I forgive you, B.A. I know you don't believe in Billy, but I also saw you catch him when I threw him to you in the raft."

B.A. seemed embarrassed at the reminder that he had, in fact, caught the invisible dog. "Yeah, well… didn't want all your hard work to be for nothin'."

Murdock laughed lightly. He was already exhausted, but this conversation was draining him even more. "It's all good, B.A. I accept your apology, and so does Billy."

He heard a snort, followed by a softly-murmured, "I didn't ask no invisible dog for a damned apology."

James Murdock fell asleep with a smile on his face.

End


Again, thank you to all you wonderful reviewers for making this so much fun to write. I had originally intended this to be a two-chapter deal, but the awesome comments I got spurred me on. Hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing this!