Chapter Twenty-seven

"No!" Face woke up with a start, covered in a cold sweat, heart pounding. Davies holding a gun to her crying head, yelling at him, demanding he do the unspeakable - unthinkable. All of it flashing before his eyes. No, he wasn't back there. He wasn't stuck in a mud hut and he wasn't watching his best friend turn into a monster. Blinking slowly and breathing rapidly, the wood panel walls of the cabin came back into focus. Right. He didn't know where he was, but he was stuck with Hannibal and Murdock, and the nightmares were coming back because there was nothing left to keep them at bay.

Hannibal was in the same position he'd been in when Face had fallen asleep; sitting on one of the crappy dinnet chairs he'd dragged over so he was within arms reach of the bed. Sitting with his arms folded and an unreadable expression. Only the cigar that smelled like cheap tobacco and burning tires was new.

Hands shaking, he didn't know if it was because of the adrenaline or the withdrawals, Face pushed sweat soaked hair off his forehead and out of his eyes. Taking deep breaths and closing his eyes, he waited for his heart to finally calm down. He hated this. There was no controlling it, no getting away from it. Even awake the memories intruded and there was nothing he could do about it.

Hannibal wasn't helping. The past three days had been a steady, mostly silent rotation of Murdock and Hannibal taking turns watching from the chair. It was his own personal prison. This time he'd won Hannibal. Murdock must've been outside, again. Good. Face couldn't deal with that bastard right now.

Pulling the thin blanket off, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, removed his sweat soaked shirt, and ran it over his face to dry off. It made his teeth set on edge. It wasn't his shirt, it was fucking Murdock's. Same with the sweats he had on. Lanky fuck had burned all of Face's stuff. Now he was stuck with clothes that were too big and had been broken in in all the wrong ways. Just like when he was a kid.

The bag of clothes he was lucky enough to share was on the other side of the cabin and he needed to get there. He wasn't as weak as he had been a couple days ago, but it would leave him exhausted. God, he just wanted this to end.

Face ignored Hannibal. It wasn't hard, it was a skill he'd learned years ago with the guards in juvie. Making his way over to the bag, Face dropped the shirt on the small table. Before he had a chance the bag was gone, relegated to Hannibal's hand.

"What do you want?"

Face let out a frustrated breath. "A shirt. What do you think I want?"

Without asking Hannibal opened the bag and rummaged around, pulling out a change of clothes. Tossing the bag out of reach, Hannibal patted down the article of clothing before holding it out to Face. "Here."

Face didn't have much of a choice. Tension in his jaw, he took the shirt. It was either that or not have clean clothes at all. "You can lighten up, if I had anything left I'd have found a way to use it by now."

"Believing you is a suckers bet."

"That's never changed." Face put the dry shirt on, tremors making it more of a challenge than it should have been.

"Apparently."

"Right." So they finally agreed on something. It still didn't get him anywhere. Looking out a small window that hadn't been washed in years, Face wanted out. It was too much like jail, too much sobriety, and too much confinement. No getting away from Hannibal or Murdock or Davies or Ivan or any of it. No. Stop. He couldn't go there. He didn't want to picture it anymore. Pulse picking up again, Face could feel his breathing following suit. He turned, took a step and stopped. There was nowhere to go. He turned again, facing the wall this time, hands going up, Face put his forehead on his arms closed his eyes. Enough. They weren't here. Those memories were a world away, those monsters were dead, never to rise again. Those were facts. The nightmares were just that. He knew that.

"Bad, isn't it?" Hannibal's voice was flat talk. "Having to deal with your shit."

Shaking his head against the past, walls closing in on him, the memories pelting him relentless. Legs giving out, Face wound up on the floor. "Stop. Can you please just stop." He couldn't take it. He knew he couldn't.

"I can't." Hannibal actually sounded sorry.

"Why the fuck not?" Focusing on Hannibal's voice, bastard that he was, was better than the memories. "I get it. I'm a piece of shit smack fiend."

"You are." Hannibal agreed with him again. "And you're one of the best men I've ever served with."

Face laughed at that. It was sinister even to him. "That's a bunch of shit and we both know it." You didn't discharge your best without even asking them. You did that to the people you just wanted out from under foot.

The bastard had the nerve to do nothing but look at him like he had a clue. Face stared back. "Come on," It was almost taunting. Almost daring. Anything to keep his attention off his nightmares. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"I know better then to tell you anything." Hannibal was standing there, staring at him like the pathetic specimen he was.

No. That wasn't doing him any good. He didn't even know what the hell that meant. "Isn't that why you're here?" Wait. "Why are you here? You ship me off like yesterday's news and now I can't get away from you, I don't get it. I don't get any of it." His voice dropped, becoming insistent at the end. He couldn't help it. He didn't have the energy to control any of it anymore.

"I'm sure you don't."

Face stared at him. Was he going to explain any of it or just leave it there? When Hannibal didn't continue, Face gave up on it, shaking his head at the whole thing. He didn't get a say in it. He just got to try to figure out which existence was worse; his nightmares or his reality.

"I've told you why I sent you to the World and why I'm here Face. It hasn't changed."

"I was never coming back here!" He could feel himself falling to pieces and he couldn't stop it. "I've got nothing here but a Sister that sent me to juvie. That day on the chopper, when I pulled you out of the river, even back then I was never coming back here."

"And I should have listened."

Looking at him, Face didn't know what to say or think to that. "I just wanted to sleep." That was it. He'd been defeated.

"We all do."

Shaking his head, Face closed his eyes. "But I can't. I've fucking tried everything and I can't sleep. I can't get any of that shit out of my head." Maybe they all had problems and Face was just the weak link. He couldn't take it like everyone else could and it had finally just snapped him like a twig.

"The only way to survive is learning to come to terms with it." Hannibal was on the floor next to him.

"There's no coming to terms with it." Face leaned towards Hannibal, voice faltering with words he'd never spoken out loud. "I watched my best friend, Sgt. Butch Davies, rape and murder kids because he fucking could and I didn't do a damned thing to stop it. Tell me how I come to terms with that. How do I get their pleading out of my head? How do I silence their mom's screaming as he took her daughter's apart?" Face stopped. Damn him for saying it and for bringing it out to the surface and in the light. It was bad enough that he knew about it. Nobody else needed to see his true colors.

"You can't save them Face. You never could. No amount of hating yourself will change that son."

Son. It broken him. A simple three letter word that sent a world of guilt flooding through a dam of denial and hatred. "I never tried." He couldn't stop the tears or the shaking. He hated everything about it. He hated Davies for turning into a monster, and Thomas for holding him down and he hated the fact that he'd ever stepped foot in that village and that all he'd done was his best to run as far away as he could.

Hannibal's hand was on his shoulder. "There's nothing you could have done."

"There's no absolution for me." His sins ran too deep and were colored in crimson. He'd known it for a long time and it had finally caught up to him. Crushing him like stones levied against Saint Margaret.

"There's nothing you could have done. This isn't your sin, Face."

"I wish you were right."

"I am."

Face didn't argue it. There was no fighting the pain, there was just riding waves of emotions he didn't want until they were done with him. Like a kid's raft get thrown into the rocks by the ocean waves until the tide finally fell back, leaving him beaten and battered and exhausted. Face lost track of it all, somehow he had his dogtags in his hand, looking at them like they were foreign. He knew the truth for what it was, holding them out to Hannibal he said, "I'm not that guy anymore."

XXXXX

Lake Isabella was a dirt covered, middle of nowhere town that, from what Cruiser could tell, consisted of a gas station, a small market, and a mixture of rundown trailers and shacks that passed for houses. He knew that because they were surrounded by broken down, rusted out chain link fences to keep the dogs in. Hannibal sure knew how to pick 'em.

No matter, the dirt road they'd been following for the last several miles had led them out of town and around a curvy hill to the middle of nowhere even by Vietnam standards.

"Man, you better be right about that last turn." BA groused. "I don't wanna be showin' up at some redneck's by surprise."

"You don't want to make friends with our new backyard neighbors?" BA was right though, anyone who lived out here wasn't going to welcome them with open arms. Perhaps just their carry license. Didn't matter anyway. Cruiser smacked the back of his hand against BA's shoulder as they rounded the corner and saw the Dodge Hannibal had told them about in the driveway. "And you doubted me."

BA curled his his lip, ignoring Cruiser's comment and handling the car into the dirt driveway. Hannibal walked over to meet them as they got out.. "I'm damn glad to see you boys."

"Going that well, huh?" Cruiser took Hannibal's hand, the two of them leaning in as they shook, a firm slap on the back to let Hannibal know it was good to see him again. Hannibal, a crazy flyboy, and a heroin addict… what could have possibly gone wrong? "Good to see you, man."

BA got the same treatment. "It's been one hell of a ride. Still not sure how it's going to end."

BA growled his disapproval of that as Cruiser pulled out his smokes and leaned against the truck. "End with those fools gettin' their heads fixed up."

Hannibal had said it was a hunting cabin that a friend owned. Apparently he wasn't high up in the command structure. The hunting cabin was small enough that it made Cruiser think sleeping outside under the stars may be a better idea than cramming them all into the building. A nice lake a hundred yards out was the only nice thing about the place. "So what's the rundown?"

"Face is hooked bad, Murdock had him holed up and was drying him out. We dragged him here to keep him from scoring. Three days ago he conned me into starting an IV. He OD'd in the bathroom." Hannibal looked at the ground and then locked eyes with Cruiser. "He died in Murdock's lap. If you hadn't given me that narcan..." He didn't finish.

Cruiser took a long inhale of smoke. If Face had died in Murdock's arms. . . that was bad on so many levels.

"There's more…" Hannibal was never hesitant and it had Cruiser's eyes narrowing on him as he continued. "He got tangled up with some bastard named Marco who traded drugs for sex."

"He what . . ." Marco was a dude's name. He looked at BA and back to Hannibal. He had to have heard that wrong.

"Face aint gay." BA had that low still anger that was more alarming than when he yelled.

"That's the part Marco liked best."

Cruiser just looked at Hannibal shaking his head. What the hell did he say to that? Face was high enough to take that, overdosing in the bathroom wasn't a surprise. Hell, Cruiser would want to OD too.

Hannibal blew a stream of smoke into the air. "I made mistakes with this. Big ones, but this is his own self destruction."

"What the hell, Colonel? We've seen a lot of shit but this is. . . ." Cruiser let it go. He knew lots of guys that wound up using. Whether it was because they couldn't cope, wanted a quick way out of the military, or just wanted to get high, Cruiser had never figured it out. He'd seen enough of it growing up to lose any curiosity he may have had.

"I've never dealt with anything like it before." Hannibal had an edge and hardness to him that was out of place in the California sun. "But Murdock has."

"What's he say?" There wasn't a lot Cruiser could do. All the medical knowledge in the world wouldn't fix needing to dry out and sober up. And it for damn sure wouldn't stop him from using again if that's what he wanted.

"That we aren't dealing with Face, we're dealing with a sickness wearing Face's skin. And he'll do anything to score. All Murdock's been waiting to do is talk to the Real Face."

"Well, he can have fun trying to score way out here in bumfuck nowhere." Cruiser looked around. Twenty feet away behind wooden walls there was a disaster waiting for them.

"He was slick enough to stash something that even Murdock couldn't find. Christ only knows how."

"He that slick, he had any left he'd a used it by now." BA's tone didn't leave any room for doubt. He'd grown up in inner city Chicago, Cruiser didn't doubt that he knew.

"That's pretty much what Murdock said, he still burned all of Face's clothes and the door to the bathroom."

"Well that's effective." Cruiser pulled down the last of his smoke, flicking the butt of cigarette onto the ground and smashing it out with his heel.

"Murdock's had to deal with too much of this shit in his life." Hannibal chomped down on his cigar and folded his arms.

"Doesn't take much." Cruiser watched Hannibal for a long moment. The man looked tired in a way the bush had never left him. "How you holding up?"

Hannibal took a slow deep breath. "I'm exhausted in ways I never imagined."

"Yeah well," Cruiser's hand found Hannibal's shoulder. "BA and I can take over, you and Murdock can get some rest."

"Thank you, Daniel." Hannibal dropped a hand on his shoulder "Thank you, BA."

It was an unmistakeable thunderclap crack of gunfire going off that had them all dropping to the ground and pulling out the weapons they had on them. What the fuck? Who? They? It only took a second for Cruiser to realize there was no threat to them. The shot had come from inside. Shit. "Who the fuck has a gun?"

XXXXX

Face pushed himself up off of the sagging mattress that was all this fleabag, middle-of-nowhere cabin had to offer. Fucking Murdock standing there, that crazy fucking smile

that wouldn't shut the hell up. Apparently it was his turn to watch Face while Hannibal slipped out the front to do whatever the hell he pleased. Must be nice. Fuckers. No, Face was done. The both of them could take their self-righteous bullshit and get the hell out of his life.

"Funny ain't it?"

"Shut up, you asshole." Whatever Murdock had to say, Face didn't want to hear it. He took an unsteady step toward the lanky pilot, jaw clenched, chapped upper lip curled. Murdock, the fuck, looked at him. Silent and judging, because everything wasn't already fucked up enough.

Face's whole body hurt, tight and tense with anger, and not a damn thing he could do. He was stuck. There was no making it stop and no making it go away. He'd tried everything he could think of to get out of here and it had gotten him nowhere. Face was more sober than he'd been in months. He could feel those damn spectres creeping up on him, hear the desperation in their voices, see the pleas in their eyes. They'd haunted his every waking moment since he'd come back "home" and found himself a foreigner. Soon enough, they'd be dogging his reality as though they'd never left. And Murdock - Murdock, of all people! - had no damn right to force that on him. "Fuck you." There was no getting away from Murdock in this place; twenty by twenty square feet of hell.

"Why?" Murdock asked, all calm and casual like he was at a fucking church social. Fuck him.

Face spun back around. He shouldn't have. A small part of his brain that was in control of nothing knew that it was pointless. "Why what?"

"Why should I fuck off? Why don't you wanna sober up and be something?"

That was rich. "Tell me Murdock, what the hell am I supposed to be?" His voice was low, teeth clenched. He fucking hated everything about Murdock.

"Real."

He hated that answer so much he laughed. "Real? You want me to be real? A real fucking soldier? A real fucking yes sir, how high sir, burn 'em down sir? Or is it a different real? A real fucking liar? A real snitch, murderer, rapist?" He was getting more and more insistent and he couldn't stop or even figure out why. He wanted to shove Murdock away from him; out of this cabin and out of his life. "A real what Murdock?"

"A real person." Fucker said that like it made sense.

"I'm all of those things you fucking moron. That's the real person I am and I fucking hate it!" Why couldn't he just get it? Instead, no. Murdock had to stand there reading and judging Face, like he had a right.

"I love Real Face." Why the fuck did he sound sad about that?

"Nobody loves the real Face!"

"I do. Gave up my wings and all. They don't matter if you ain't real. I gotta find you and keep the others away."

"What others?"

The slightest of movements flickered in Face's peripheral vision, but he couldn't turn away from that very wrong look on Murdock's face. It wasn't fight or flight, not even anger or disappointment. He didn't get a chance to sift through his addled brain to place it before Murdock started up again, too calm and too quiet, and with a weird little smile clinging to his lips.

It was a creepy fucking smile.

Murdock's eyes never left Face's. "Trace, Roberts, Michele, Dombrowski. Some with names and the ones without names. I see a little girl crying. I can feel all this blood sliding through my fingers. I see bodies. Carved up, butchered bodies. Wholesale slaughter. The work of a monster, Face. And I know it's me. I'm the monster. Killing and hacking, and it felt so good."

For a second Face could've sworn Murdock was looking straight through him. Straight into the past, right back to that fucking place Face shot up to forget. It was skeletons and monsters, their bodies and ghosts. Face could see it plain as day in Murdock's eyes, like he was looking in the mirror. It had him pinned to the ground as stone cold and dead still as Michelangelo's Pieta.

Murdock closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, breathing slow and deep. His own breath was sharp, rushing in and out with an anxiety Face couldn't place until his searching eyes caught on the gun in Murdock's hand. The pilot's eyes opened and drifted to the weapon. His knuckles turned white around the grip.

"I made a promise Face."

For a moment, Face wasn't in the shitty cabin. He was in the jungle, the humidity thick enough to smother him, the ground firm and wet beneath his knees, the coppery stench of blood in his nostrils.

"I need to know, to be sure," Murdock said, slow and worn. In another place, Face might have wondered how many times Murdock had said these words without ever saying them. "Are we done fighting? Did the monsters win?"

Did you fail?

Laughter bubbled up from Face, loud and harsh, it cut out as quick as it had burst forth. "Look at me, you stupid fuck!" He yelled. "I'm barely hanging on. I'm so doped up most of the time I can't feel anything, but I've got those monsters all figured out. I know how to lock them out." He threw his arms out towards Murdock in case the man needed another look at the track marks lining his veins. "Every time I take a fucking hit they're right back where they belong. Is that what you want to hear? Is it?" Spit flew from Face's lips, but Murdock didn't react, he never even blinked.

"Or is it that I don't know what to do anymore, is that it? How about the fact that the moment Diz shot me up was the first time in months I felt anywhere near relaxed? That while I was high, those voices finally stopped screaming in my ears and I could close my eyes without seeing it all again?"

Fuck. Here he was,now, seeing it all again, because Murdock wanted him to feel. Because Murdock never could leave well enough alone. And Hannibal. Face couldn't even go there. "Yeah, Murdock they won." He finally said it. "They fucking won and are doing a victory lap around my life and I've got nothing left."

Murdock had the cool barrel of a service revolver hard and unforgiving pressed under Face's chin. Face's breath caught as Murdock stepped in close, eyes going dim and lifeless while Murdock stood there, silent, looking through Face. Tears rolled down Murdock's cheeks.

For a moment, Face didn't know why Murdock was crying. It wasn't Murdock's life Face had turned upside down. It wasn't Face blocking Murdock from getting to the door. It wasn't Face holding a gun under Murdock's chin, waiting for the word to pull the trigger. But maybe it should have been.

Suddenly, it was obvious. It was Sunshine, young and lifeless, blank eyes staring up at him from the mud. It was Murdock, horrified and broken, skittering backward while blood mixed with tears. It was Face, sitting, helpless to do anything but watch as his best friend was taken apart. It was guilt and pain and being stuck, alone, at the mercy of everything and everyone who wanted to take them apart. It was Davies and Thomas and blood slicked children. It was Vietnamese begging and pleading for lives he couldn't save. It was their souls dying with one last agonizing cry.

It was the end.

"Do it." Face's voice didn't sound like his. He couldn't remember making the decision to speak, but the words fell between them, hollow and distant, betraying his secrets. "I can't beat this. You know that. That's why you're here, right? You've seen it."

"I'm here because Face is my best friend, and because I made a promise." Murdock nodded fractionally as he spoke; confirmation, agreement, and lifeline, all in one. Nothing he said was louder than the click of the hammer cocking back. "I'm sorry for letting the monsters get you."

Face closed his eyes. Tears he hadn't expected warmed streaks down his cheeks as his body shook.

"See you on the other side," Murdock's voice was low and choked.

That was it. It would only hurt for a moment, and then everything would be gone. Face wasn't expecting Murdock to add, "God forgive me", but he did.

His words echoed off the walls of heaven and earth, reaching from the caverns of hell to God's almighty ear. It was a moment that hung in the air and lasted a lifetime making it all too clear. There would be no forgiveness. Not for Murdock. No amount of rosaries to undo the bullet that was about to go through Face's brain and put an end to the misery. Murdock wouldn't miss. Murdock would pay his price. Face would finally find solace, at Murdock's expense. There would be no peace for him. Ever.

Murdock pulled the trigger.

XXXXX

A/N: The prologue of this book has been changed to reflect this last scene. Over the last few years that this has been getting posted and finalized there were a few changes that need to be made to keep up with the twists and turns the guys took us on.