Part X
The celebration of Illya's citizenship went very well. Mrs. Waverly was utterly charmed by Murdock. The two of them ended up spending most of the evening discussing everything from their favorite Sinatra songs to equestrianism. By the time the Waverlys had to call it an evening, she'd asked Murdock to call her Millicent and he'd been invited over for dinner. Mark was in awe. Mrs. Waverly had always intimidated the hell out of him.
As the night finished winding down, they'd divided up. Illya took Murdock with him, Napoleon took April and Mark so that he could get filled in on what they knew. After getting the details, he sat back with a frown.
"Seems like there should be more to the story. Still? Time enough to figure all of that out tomorrow. We'll have our doctors give him a good once over. I almost wish the rest of them were around. Be willing to be none of them have had anything resembling a normal checkup in years."
Napoleon was rather pleased to see that the trust between them and Murdock was still solid after the incident in Chicago. While obviously not thrilled about going to see a doctor, he agreed to it at their urging.
A couple of hours later, they were all in a room at Medical with Murdock. The doctor coming in with the lab results felt like he was on stage. It wasn't often he had five people in a room awaiting results – especially not when four of the five were the top four in command at U.N.C.L.E.'s New York office. He cleared his throat, directing his words as much to Napoleon as Murdock.
"We appear to be looking at some malnutrition issues – vitamin deficiencies among other things. I would venture to guess that lack of appetite is a problem. Likely along with food not tasting very appealing right now. Correct?"
Murdock gave a nod to that and the doctor made note of it on his clipboard.
"That's one of the troubles with this sort of deficiency. You need to eat – and eat the right things – to correct the problem, but the problem makes the prospect of eating unappealing. I would also venture to guess that you've been suffering from listlessness and fatigue, but have been unable to sleep well."
"Nailed that as well, doc. But, it can be fixed?"
"Oh yes. I'd recommend in-patient treatment for at least a day or two. After that, I can have a regime of diet and supplements for you to follow that will get you back to where you should be."
It was pretty plain that the thoughts of a couple of days in the Medical area weren't appealing, but April moved closer and took his hand.
"It's your choice, Howler love. We won't force you into anything, but it would be better for your health if you agreed."
He hesitated, then just sighed and nodded.
"I guess. Not like I have anywhere else to be, twin."
At the half-hearted response, April shot a look over at the other three that they translated without any problem. As she continued to hold Murdock's hand and speak softly with him, the other three agents pulled the doctor further to the side. Mark's eyes were on Murdock as he spoke.
"Believe it or not, that man is generally a hyperactive bundle of positive energy. Even injured, I've never seen HM so down."
"That's not so surprising, Mister Slate. Another symptom of the imbalances Mister Murdock currently has is depression. Between that and not sleeping well? Even the most avid glass half-full sort would be seeing empty glasses. Do you mind if I ask exactly what has happened to Mister Murdock? It would help me with determining the right course of treatment."
"Best source of that informative is HM himself. Come on. Let's see if we can get him into a talkative mood."
Illya held up a hand.
"Allow me to try."
Moving over to the bed, Illya looked to April.
"April? Would you mind excusing us for a bit?"
Looking up into the cool blue eyes, April hesitated for only a moment before leaning over and kissing Murdock's forehead.
"Looks like it might be time for a little boys' talk. I'll go powder my nose. Be back soon, Howler."
As April left, Illya laid a hand on Murdock's shoulder and the pair exchanged a few words in Russian, but not loudly enough that Napoleon could make out anything past the language being spoken. Murdock finally sighed again, then nodded. Illya pulled over a chair closer for himself, then motioned for the others to come over.
"Slowly, my friend. Just go over the injuries that the doctor might need to know if you do not care to elaborate."
A faint frown creased Murdock's face as he took a deep breath.
"Okay. Um – let me think. I got beaten up pretty good and shot in the foot. Got punched in the nose pretty hard. Got caught in an explosion that messed with my vision for awhile and had to get a few stitches in my forehead from that too."
"Explosion?"
"Decker."
Murdock gave the one word answer to Napoleon's one word question as if that name was more than enough explanation, then he continued.
"Next time was Decker too. Cracked ribs plus I was stuck in some pretty unhygienic conditions for awhile."
Looking up from the notes he was taking, the doctor tossed in his own question.
"Unhygienic in what ways?"
"Uhm – open hole for a toilet area. No means for any sort of cleaning either the area or myself. No fresh air, no lights. High temperatures and humidity. Very limited food and water."
There was a firm frown on the faces of all four of his listeners.
"How limited are we talking?"
"Ever been to a Chinese restaurant? You know those little bowls that they serve you a scoop of rice in? I'd get two of those about once a day. One with water and one with really mooshy rice. At least at first. Toward the end, I only got a bowl of water and a bowl of fish broth a day. Colonel said I lost around forty pounds by his estimation."
"How long were you on that – diet?"
"Five or six weeks, I guess. Seemed longer."
"No other supplements?"
"Well, I think they slipped some drugs into my water now and then, but I don't guess that really counts."
"No. That doesn't count. You said no lights? So no illumination except for windows?"
"No light ever. No windows. From the time they put me in until the guys got me out, nothing. And the voices all the time."
"What voices?"
"They had a tape player. Different conversations, all in Vietnamese. Trying to convince me that I never actually got out of 'Nam."
"You understand Vietnamese?"
"Toi hieu tieng viet. That's an affirmative, by the way."
The pilot went quiet for a minute before he spoke again.
"When I'm half-awake, I'm never really sure I'm not still there. Momma even found someone to teach her some phrases in Vietnamese so she could get through to me when the nightmares get bad."
The silence hung heavy in the room for a minute before the doctor broke it again.
"Any other injuries?"
"Hit a few more times. Drugged a few. Got shot again, but that was just a graze. That's what those stitches in my scalp that you were asking me about earlier are from."
Taking a deep breath, the doctor looked back over his notes.
"I really was only after injuries you've gotten in the last year."
Murdock frowned at that.
"I didn't go back far enough, huh? I can't really recall much else going back a couple of more months though. Just a fight or two. Maybe a bruised rib or two."
"This was all from the past year?"
When Murdock caught the expression on the doctor's face, a half-grin formed that was closer to his old self.
"What can I say, doc? It's sorta been one of those years."
The doctor looked over to Napoleon.
"You sure he's not one of ours? This is reading like your medical records from your field days, sir."
"Does sound a little familiar, doesn't it? Similar line of work. Your prognosis?"
"Quite honestly, the amount of trauma his body has been put through this year would have been taxing to a man half his age. While the body just doesn't spring back as quickly anymore after a certain age, with the right treatments I think there is a good possibility that there won't be any long term physical effects."
A wry chuckle came from the bed.
"Note that physical was the part mentioned. Don't worry about mentioning the other part, Doc. My crazy train invented new tracks to run on years ago."
"Well then, if you don't mind my being blunt, Mister Murdock, I'd be far more worried about your mental health if all this was something that you could just blow off without nightmares. In fact, you seem to have an incredibly strong will that is only going to get stronger as your health returns. Might I ask why you haven't seen a doctor before now?"
"Oh, I've seen a couple. Just not for blood work-ups and tests like you did. They just did patch-jobs on stuff that was bleeding at the time."
Napoleon's communicator went off then and he excused himself while he took the message.
"I have a call I need to take. Doctor? You're authorized to begin any treatment you deem necessary to improve his health - with Mister Murdock's approval, of course."
Looking from Napoleon to Mark to Illya, Murdock took a deep breath.
"All a matter of trust, right? Okay. Let's get this dog and pony show on the road, Doc."