Author's note: YAY!! Look, more words! Activity on this story! A surprise gift in many email in-boxes! And good news: I've picked this story back up, and am ready to finish it now!! A bit of a warning though, this one gets very emotional, and unbeta-ed. Any mistakes are my own, in a haste to get this out to y'all. Also, Liz, please don't kill me ; )


The next couple weeks were surprisingly anti-climactic and uneventful. The nurses had kept Jack heavily sedated to keep him from panicking, and to facilitate his recovery. By the end of the first week they had even started to reduce the dosage of his sedative and by the second week, after his ribs were nearly healed, Jack had become lucid and coherent, having been weaned off the drugs completely. He still hadn't remembered exactly what had happened that night, which upset him tremendously but wasn't much of a shock to the doctors, and Murdock was secretly thankful. He knew that Jack didn't need the extra trauma on top of all his other troubles.

The day after Jack's first full 24 hours without any drugs besides painkillers, the young pilot was released back into his own normal room, which had been cleaned and refurnished again. Murdock threw him a little "Welcome Home Party", complete with cake, but Jack had felt that something was off. It was understandable that he would anxious and nervous, having obviously been attacked in his own room a couple weeks earlier and not having the ability to remember a single second of it nor the face of the attacker, but Murdock was right there with him, making it feel as if they were walking on eggshells around each other.

Jack flushed with guilt. The last thing he remembered was the fight he had with Murdock, his best friend. I was completely unreasonable. He was only trying to help. It was a shame that he didn't realize that earlier; otherwise he would have been able to avoid hurting both their feelings, and this discomfort between them would have never existed. Woulda coulda shoulda…

Jack hung his head and stepped outside slowly. His ribs still hurt, well, ached was a more relative term, but he was tired of resting all the time. He needed to get back out into the sun, back out into the fresh air and out of his room. He shuffled across the concrete pathway and saw a familiar figure bent over something while sitting at one of the several picnic tables under the shade of an old oak tree. Jack paused, let out a deep sigh, well, as deep as he could at that point in time, and set his destination. He needed to sit down for a moment to catch his breath.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Murdock sat staring at the object in his hands, letting his mind wander. The entire two weeks that Hands had been in the infirmary he had sat by his bedside, and he had refused to dwell on his own feelings, instead focusing on only projecting positive thoughts and only letting happy sentences fall from his mouth. To help with his recovery, or so he told himself. In reality, he was just now discovering, he just didn't want to deal with the enormous guilt; knowing that the attack on his friend was his fault. Now that Hands was up and about on his own, he didn't need Murdock anymore, and Murdock was allowed to think of himself and his own responsibilities and failings. It truly depressed him.

He turned the plane over and over in his hands, admiring the work. He was just wondering whether or not Hands would ever be able to forgives him, or whether or not their friendship would survive or crash and burn when the table and bench shook.

Murdock's heart sped up until he looked up and realized that the newcomer was a friend not a foe… at least he thought so. Their eyes met for a second before Murdock looked back down at the plane in his hands.

The two friends sat there for the rest of the day in complete and utter silence until the sun went down and the mosquitoes began swarming and they were forced inside.

They went back to their rooms without saying a word to each other except for "Goodnight" and "Sweet dreams".

As Murdock lay down in his bed, ready to fall asleep, he smiled. He had a feeling that everything would be alright.

He hoped.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Progress was slow, but they were eventually getting used to each other again. They started playing chess and once again having inane conversations. Jack had even been dragged to several more arts and crafts sessions, but despite their routine getting back to normal, he knew that there was still something between them. Jack knew that he had to eventually sit Murdock down and have a serious conversation and… apology, but he was reluctant to be the engager.

The thing was, now that his body was healing, his mind's weakness was now once again noticeable and took center stage. He still had nightmares and the occasional flashback. He was becoming fearful that they would never go away and that he would have to spend the rest of his life in an insane asylum. It was exhausting him and slowly driving him mad. Hehe, the asylum is driving me insane. What a vicious circle!

But things changed, somehow, the next day that they had a group session. Milligan was there again, but this time, instead of directing his vileness at Murdock, like before, he was sending him glares and predatory smirks that sent shivers up his spine and raised his hackles. There was also a change in Murdock. Where Murdock had been frightened of the man before, he now seemed to be barely containing an intense anger, almost animalistic, and had Jack thinking that he might have to physically restrain his friend before the session was over.

Thankfully though, Doctor Freud was just as oblivious and idiotic during that session as he was before. Even better, he had a lot of paperwork to catch up on, so he even cut short the session after Liz regaled everyone with more tales of her mysterious cabin in the woods and the adventures of her magical time machine. Murdock had a weird gleam in his eye as he ushered Hands out of that meeting, never turning his back on the grinning beast back in the room.

The tension lasted even an hour after they went to lunch. Murdock still hadn't calmed down, and Jack was beginning to worry. What happened? What did he miss during those two weeks that would cause such a change in him? Is it my fault? Is he still angry at me for yelling? When Murdock snapped at him for suggesting that he was going to take a walk by himself before turning in early, Jack decided that enough was enough.

"Murdock, what's wrong? You've been acting a bit strangely ever since I woke up," Jack sighed and Murdock got scared. Does he remember what happened? Did he figure out it's my fault? "I… I'm sorry if I… well, you know… I didn't mean it…"

What?

"I was angry and… well, I had no right to say that to you. I know you were only trying to help…It's just that I thought that I could handle this stuff on my own, ya know? God… it's just that… it's hard… and… well, the doctors here…" he made some obscure motions with his hands and Murdock just stared at him in shock. For him, Hands' entire apology had come out of left field, and it took him a few seconds to process before he was able to come up with some sort of response.

"Hands, it's okay. I understand that you were angry-"

"No, it's not okay. What I said was inappropriate. I had no right to take it out on my friend,"

"We always do," Murdock said seriously, his wisdom seeping through his madness.

"Huh?"

"We always take it out on our friends, because at time like this, they're all we've got left." Murdock waited for that to sink in. He was relieved that this was what Hands was worried about. This he knew how to handle. He let his memory fly back to that horrible mission gone wrong in the jungle, and the months of recovery afterward. He and Face had had it bad. He remembered the sleepless nights, Face's screams in the dark and the walking terrors. He remembered coming to, huddled under a commissary table clinging to Face as if he were a life preserver, and he remembered Face holding on just as tight. He remembered the voices of the past, of the dead, accusing, and cursing him for killing them, just because he survived. He remembered begging to be able to take their place. But he remembered Face there every step of the way. They rarely talked about it today, but back then when it was happening, they found comfort in each other's support. They had each other to lean on, and they had the strength of having gone through it together. They had shared the memories, they had shared the nightmares, the injuries, the pain, but most important they shared the healing. Hands didn't have that. He was alone, so Murdock would have to be his life preserver.

He didn't mind.

"Back in the jungle, me and the team were captured by Charlie. I was flying the chopper… I should have seen it coming. The trees were too quiet. Hannibal always said that when you could hear the green on the leaves, you'd know it was going to be bad. Well, we got shot down, tried to make it on foot, get away from the bird ya know, but BA had a bad break in his leg and that mudsucker was too darn heavy for us to carry for long on top of our own aches and pains. It took them only two hours before they hauled us to the camp, put us in these tiny cages. The funniest thing though, in the same cage as me and Face was this kid that I knew from high school back home, JJ, he had a large patch of land just south of Tyler back in Texas and all he wanted was to just live his life on the land and raise his horses. The war had other plans. Anyway, so here we were chattin', but I was too stupid."

"Charlie didn't much like us pilots, we're kinda like wood splinters. Anyway, they went out of their way to get us," Murdock shuddered, unwilling to disclose the immensely private methods the Vietcong enacted to get him to 'talk', "… then one day they dragged all of us out of the cage, me, Face, and JJ. JJ wasn't doing so hot, he had been in the camp for a whole three weeks before us and… well… you know. They made me choose," Murdock dropped his head, feeling the tears returning. It was still difficult for him to talk about it, "I just knew. JJ had that look in his eye. He knew too. He was gone, there was no way out for him except… he saw it as a relief. Even though, I'll never forgive myself. I know what it's like, Hands. We're all here for a reason."

--


Author's Note: I know, a short little update, but at least it's an update at last!! I got to this last part and knew that it was the right place to stop.