Chapter Nineteen

January 14, 1970

Pain—hazy, mounting pain was all he felt. Christ, what had happened? Eyes closed, still partially swimming in a muted world of dreams and reality, Murdock tried to remember, but there was only a dark expanse, a void.

Sucking in another breath, he held the air down, forcing his burning lungs to work. Every second he ebbed closer to full consciousness the pain grew. A part of him fought to keep that at bay, but he also wanted to wake, to feel the pain, to know what had happened. He needed answers.

A soft voice, a gentle touch let him know someone was near. Who? He tried to ask, but only a muffled groan sounded.

Again, that voice came and he felt something being pressed to his lips. Slowly, the trickle of liquid eased down his throat. It tasted of blood. No, his mouth tasted of blood. Still, he drank gratefully, swallowing and sputtering, grieved when the cup was drawn away.

He tilted his head in the direction it had come from. "M-more..." The word had been hard to form, harder than he thought it would.

"Just rest..." That voice, he knew that voice. Callaghan? Yeah, that's who it was.

"Fool don't look good."

BA? What was happening? He frowned, willing himself to move, to speak, but nothing happened.

"Well, shit, how's he supposed to look after getting his head beaten in?"

Recognizing Face's voice, Murdock felt a new, warm pain as his brow creased, eyebrows knitting together. Head beaten in? That couldn't be good. Again he tried to speak, but only the grunted noises of what sounded like a wounded animal came out.

"Hey, buddy..."His tone softening, Face must've eased closer to where Murdock lay, his voice sounding nearer. "...it's ok. We're here. Nothing is gonna happen. It's gonna be alright, ok?"

That much reassurance, that much concern told Murdock otherwise. It was not going to be ok.

He managed to get his fingers moving, pawing loosely, aimlessly at the dirt beneath him. That was a start, at least. He was slowly getting his body to do what he wanted.

"It'd be best if you just stayed still, ok?" Callaghan added. "Then we'll get you some more of that water. Sound good?"

Hell, for as good as the water sounded, it was still no dice. Something had happened, something important, and Murdock wanted to know what that was. He needed to know. That dark span of memory was too unsettling not to fill. With a little more effort, he moved his arm, swinging it up to lay across his chest.

Another low groan was all Murdock could muster as an answer. Damn. He was gonna have to do better than that if he wanted to find out what the hell was going on.

"Stop moving 'round, fool. Be still." There was something welcomed about BA's gruff voice. No matter how hard he tried, the big guy couldn't hide the fact that he cared.

"Yeah, listen to Nurse Baracus." Murdock didn't need his eyes open to know Cal's comment had earned him a fierce glare from BA.

He tilted his head, pain flaring as he did do, but he somehow still managed a weak smile. It was hard, but he finally forced his eyelids to lift just a hair. In the dim light, two dark, hazy figures stood before him, as a third one shifted back away. Pulling in a deep breath, he braced for the exertion the lone word would need. "F-face?"

One of the blobs near him moved, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm here, buddy."

Murdock adjusted his gaze, staring up at the man who claimed to be Face. "What..." He paused, swallowing down a lungful of air. "No...I-I..." Why wasn't it coming out right? His thoughts kept scattering, words eluding him. "Where..." Yep, that was one word down...just two more to go."...are we?"

Silence—too much silence—had him regretting the question.

Face finally spoke up. "You're back in the main building." Murdock could hear him hesitating before continuing. "In our cell."

"You ain't alone no more." From anyone else it would've sounded harsh, but those were some of the gentlest words BA had ever spoken to him.

Murdock frowned. Main building? Cell? What did that mean? Concentrating, he willed himself back to the last memory he could grasp. Maybe if he could bring that up...

Leaves, trees whirling by, the sharp, persistent smell of fuel...

"I...I crashed the chopper?"

"No." BA's voice was quiet, gruff and oddly tender all at once. "You got shot down. Ain't your fault. Now be quiet like Cal tell you too and have some more water."

Murdock pursed his lips, gaze darting to one figure and then another. He'd forgotten which was Callaghan, but he'd be damned if he was gonna let the medic shut him up with a cup of water—no matter how much he wanted it. He forced the next words out as quickly as he could. "B-but, where are we?"

"Aw hell, Vietnam, genius. Now drink before you start undoing all my hard work." Cal was just as rock headed as Murdock sometimes.

It was too hard to keep the fight up. Murdock parted his lips and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the liquid. His hazy string of memories slowly started coming back. The chopper went down, and they were captured. Yes, that happened.

Cal didn't miss a beat. The water was too warm, too dirty and yet, to Murdock, it still tasted like ice cold heaven.

He let it trickle down his throat, mind still wandering. The hike, Getz's death, their arrival at the camp all flooded back to him and then he hit a wall. Snippets of memories came, but they were disorganized, out of sequence and he had the unmistakable feeling that there were still large holes in what he could recall. Panicked, he took in a breath, forgetting the cup was still easing water to him.

He coughed, sputtering up the liquid, his eyes watering, head pounding.

Callaghan pulled the cup back. "Steady now... You're gonna be fine."

"No..." he choked out the word before he had time to rethink it. Blinking away the haze, he peered through the darkness over to the one man he knew would have answers. He didn't know how the hell he knew that, but he did. Panting, he stared up at Face. "What happened?" Face had been there...he'd seen. Murdock frowned, his mind reeling again, pulling away whatever memory was nearly in his grasp. What did Face know?

Murdock's vision had cleared enough that he could see that sad, tight smile working its way onto his friend's face. "You pissed off the wrong guard. That's all."

The half-truth hung heavily between them. He knew Face too well. There was more, so much more the man wasn't telling him.

"We just gotta make it four more days, fool." BA added. "Hannibal has a plan...thanks to you."

A new swell of panic hit Murdock as he tried to recall what he'd done to help, but again only a void greeted him. What if he'd been wrong? What if this plan failed? It'd be his fault. He was gasping for breath again, trying to work up some saliva in his mouth, trying to think of what he needed to ask.

"The plan will work." There was an authority to Face's voice that Murdock had never heard before. It was surprisingly comforting. "We're getting out of here. We just need to hold on a bit longer, ok, Murdock?"

"Ok..." The word came out instinctively, timidly. All he could do was let others take charge, look after him. He didn't much care for that fact, but it was there nonetheless. Still struggling with that notion, his eyelids started to droop, weighted by his fatigue. "Sorry...that I can't remember..."

Face gave a soft, sad chuckle. "Murdock, you nutbar, there's nothing to be sorry for. Just get some rest. We'll talk later."

"Mm-hmm..." That was as close to an answer as Murdock could muster. Well, that and the faint smile he forced. It couldn't have been more than a slight curl at the corners of his mouth, but it did the job.

"Good..." Face whispered, the warmth of his hand still on Murdock's shoulder. "We'll be right here the whole time. Just rest."

Sleep sounded so good but only to his body. Murdock's mind kept racing, kept searching for what was missing, but the memories were gone.

After half an hour or so, Face drew his hand away. Not stirring, not letting them know how much the loss of contact bothered him was hard, but Murdock held still. He kept his breathing even, calm.

"He sleeping?" BA asked.

Murdock could hear the soft crunch of sand as Face shifted next to him. "Yeah. I think so. Cal?"

"I can't imagine he's still up, but we'll have to wake him again several times through the night. If we can." Cal paused, letting out a low sigh. "He's definitely got a concussion. On the plus side though, besides the recent beating he took to the head, it doesn't look like the guards have been doing much to him physically during his interrogations lately. He's malnourished, dehydrated but most of his older wounds are healing."

"And the memory loss?" There was an edge to Face's question, something pressing. "Is it permanent?"

For a second, Murdock forgot to breath, to keep up the gentle rhythm the guys must've been listening to, because everyone went silent. He gave a faint smack of his lips and resumed the easy pace again. It was the best piece of acting he could muster, but he was sure they'd caught on to his ruse.

"It could be permanent." Callaghan replied quietly after about five minutes had passed. "Might be part of the concussion or..."

"Or what, fool?"

The silence had Murdock concentrating on his feigned slumber, not wanting to blow his cover. Hell, at this point it was a fight between keeping the act up and not actually falling asleep.

"I don't know what happened to him when the guards kept taking him..." The implication was clear in Callaghan's voice—someone in the cell did know. "...but whatever they did broke him down, and his not remembering what that was, well, it might just be a defense mechanism."

"He did not break," Face snapped. "He didn't!"

This time Murdock couldn't help it. He flinched at the raised voice but kept his eyes closed. The warm touch of Face's hand returned to his shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. "It's ok, Murdock...it's ok..."

He relaxed, glad for the contact. It was silly, childish, but he needed to know they were there. Even if he could hear them, he needed to know they were real. Why was that?

Time passed, and Face's hand remained in place, the guys staying silent. Just as the pull of sleep had almost won over Murdock, Callaghan spoke up again.

"Mentally, he broke. You saw him, Face. We all saw him." The medic paused for a sharp intake of breath. "That might happen again, if he remembers."

"He won't." Face sounded so damn tired.

"And if he does?" BA asked. "The man wasn't right in the head, Face."

"He won't." Face's tone said it all. The discussion was over.

Murdock lay still, hoping for more, that they guys would keep talking, but everyone went dead silent. There would be no more answers for him, only the questions still stirring in his head.

And the fear.

He was afraid of being alone, of this place, the guards. He was afraid of his lost memories and, most of all, he was afraid of himself—of what he would become if he did remember, of what he had been.

Murdock shifted a little closer to Face, relieved when the man leaned closer to him as well.

"It will be ok, Murdock," Face whispered.

And for as much as he wanted to believe that, Murdock couldn't.