Can't seem to get away from our bimonthly posting schedule, but stars aligned and clouds parted and progress was made!

Chapter Twenty-Eight

He never heard the shot or saw the blood. Murdock had kept his eyes open, he owed Face that, but the things in his head; the chemicals and short circuits that made him different and crazy rewrote the truth. Instead of seeing the blood and gore he'd caused, Murdock's brain was trying to trick him. A complete and whole Face was standing in front of him, hand on the cylinder of Murdock's revolver, keeping it from firing. Face's ghost was looking at Murdock with fractured pain and shock radiating out, threatening to burn him.

Murdock pulled back, jerking the weapon with him, creating space, not stopping until his back hit the wall. Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! It wasn't supposed to be like this. Face was supposed to go to a Catholic version of heaven, not be stuck damn it! Murdock could feel the blood rushing and his heart pounding against his chest. Shit, he'd fucked up bad. Fucking Trace was laughing and the little girl was clapping her hands and giggling. They had a new friend. Another ghost Murdock had made.

He didn't want to see anymore, or hear the laughter of the damned any longer. He'd planned this. He knew what he had to do. Murdock knew he had to die. A death sentence for all of his crimes. Not like he could live after killing Face.

"I'm sorry Face. You were supposed to be completely dead, not like the others." One more worthless apology.

"Murdock!" Ghost Face yelled.

"I always could see the monster in you Face. A little bit like mine, but turned in on yourself." Face hurt himself, others only got caught up if they tried to stop him. Murdock's own monster would hurt anything it could grab. "By the time I got here, it was backwards. I could barely see Face in the monster."

"Murdock stop!" Face was standing there, frozen, not partaking in the celebration that the others were. Death hadn't dulled the intensity of his eyes, that was clear. "Put the gun down. I fucked up, I know, but don't do this. Just put the gun down and we'll figure out how to get through it."

"You should have gone to heaven Face. The monsters won." Murdock had to die, it was the only way to make the balance right and keep everyone safe. He had to do it, he had to figure out how to stop. How to let go. Putting the gun under his chin, he aimed for the brain-stem.

Face's eyes were fixed on the gun, watching closely. "They didn't win, Murdock. I'm not dead, you're just fucking crazy." Could ghosts get frustrated? "Just listen to me, please buddy. I can't do this without you."

For the second and last time Murdock pulled the trigger. Ghost Face was grabbing the gun in a tight grip and pulling it away. The bullet exploded from the chamber, this time deafeningly loud. Face's shoulder slammed into Murdock's with enough force to send pain down the nerves. The gun clattering to the ground.

Hallucinations couldn't touch you. They hurt and attacked with words and taunts; Face's go to game, but they didn't touch. Unless Murdock was dead too….

"I'm sorry I killed you, Face." The Face that was trapped in hell with Murdock was pushed in tight, pinning Murdock to the wall. "I love you. We lost you. I promised Face." Tears were hot and wet, rolling down his cheeks. You could still cry in hell. "I'm so sorry you're stuck in hell with me." Maybe he could make him understand, or maybe this was his true hell, trapped forever with the ghost of the best friend that he murdered.

"Me too." Ghost Face was weak, most of his weight leaning into Murdock. He was exhausted, even dead Murdock could see the strain wearing through him. Boney pale fingers found their way to either side of Murdock's face, blue eyes holding his brown and a world of words and emotions flying between them. "We're not dead, Murdock."

He wanted to believe that. He wanted to be alive. He wanted a chance, hope, and more than anything he wanted Face alive and whole. But there was Trace and the little girl and the Vietcong soldier and all the others laughing. "How can you tell?" He wanted an answer to that so bad he could taste it.

Face shook his head ever so slightly. "You didn't shoot me, Murdock." Something changed in Face's eyes that Murdock couldn't quite place. "I don't want to die, not like this."

"I don't want to be dead Facey, and I don't want you to be dead. But we can't let the monsters win. The stakes are too high." The truth was a harsh whisper almost like Murdock was afraid to say it. "I'm not safe without you Face, if my monster gets loose…."

"They didn't win, Murdock. And I'm not going to let yours win either." Face's eyes were searching him, looking for some sort of understanding. "Please just trust me."

There was nothing but truth and Face in that. The Real Face. Adrenaline rushed out of him, leaving Murdock weak and shaking. Murdock bent his head until he and Face were forehead to forehead. Murdock's shaking hand was on the back of Face's neck. "I trust you. Always have."

The crack of wood splintering echoed through the small cabin as the door came off the hinges, crashing to the ground. Neither Murdock nor Face moved out of that moment. Hannibal coming through the door, gun drawn, Cruiser a step behind him, kicking Murdock's further away from them, and BA sad and shaking his head at the scene in front of him.

Murdock could barely hear Face over the commotion in the room. "No regrets."

The team was here, they were alive and Real Face back. He was broken, but back. For the first time in a long, long time Murdock knew he was safe. "No regrets." God help them all, Murdock meant that.

XXXXX

Hannibal was running. He didn't waste time thinking about how. His body took over, legs moving, mind focused solely on the cabin he was running for. Fear, icey and cold was squeezing at his chest, trying to distract him. He ignored it. The men in the cabin needed him, securing their safety was the only goal and focus.

Mind racing faster than his feet Hannibal sorted information, rapid fire, in the seconds it took him to get to the cabin. Gun? It had to be Murdock who had it. Face had nothing. Murdock burned everything Face brought to try and keep him clean.

The cabin door was locked. Hannibal stopped breathing. Everything slowed down to half speed. It was like watching highlight reels. Everything moving in clear snapshots. BA moving in, large shoulder slamming into the door frame. The broken door and splinters floating, suspended in time, in the air before landing on the floor.

He was in the cabin, scanning the area, looking and knowing what he would find would change everything. Which one of his boys was dead? How long would the other last? Through the light haze and smell of gun smoke Hannibal spotted them in the the corner of the room. It took him far too long to process the details.

Too men, upright, no blood, no obvious injuries. In fact the two of them were resting their foreheads against each other, talking low. Exactly like they did in Vietnam when one of them was having a nightmare, or one of them was thinking of being extra special stupid and needed a reason not to.

The tightness that made it hard to think or inhale was gone so fast it had Hannibal having to think about how to remain upright. They were both alive. Son of a bitch, I almost lost them...

"They okay man." It was BA's heavy hand on his back and quiet words that had Hannibal's mind kicking into gear. BA was right.

Hannibal nodded his thanks. It was a reminder of how badly Hannibal had missed the rest of his team. They didn't need to be told what to do, they did it, each one knowing what the other could and would do.

That's why Cruiser was re holstering his gun. He'd drawn it because he knew BA, like Hannibal, wouldn't be able to pull the trigger on Face or Murdock, even if it had to be done. Cruiser would, and he would carry it with him without ever saying a word.

A new realization hit Hannibal hard and swift.

He needed his team every bit as much as they needed him. He was their commander, but the separation, the boundaries an officer should have were gone. With the type of war they'd been waging and how they'd done the things they needed to, was that any shock? No. But standing in an old cabin with a drug addicted con man, a mad man, and two other angry men who fought the prejudices they faced with fists instead of words, Hannibal knew it was forever different.

These were his mean, his team. His only team. He couldn't replace any of them. That's why they'd been struggling since Ray and Face had left. Whatever magic this team had, it couldn't be replicated. Others would come and go and fill needs and spots, but this, right here in the cabin was the heart and soul of it. As sure as he knew that, he also knew he would never command another team.

The Army didn't function like that and he be damned if he could see how it would work, but it was still fact. This was it, his team, his family.

"Clear, Colonel." Cruiser tucked Murdock's 38 revolver into his waistband.

Face and Murdock didn't move during the commotion. Eyes closed, they were lost to their own thoughts and silent language. It was their way of figuring out whatever they needed. By the time those two starting acknowledging the rest of the world again, they would finally be on the same page.

Hannibal dropped onto the kitchen chair and watched. For the moment he didn't have to do anything else. BA checked the cabin and then left to make sure the grounds were secure. Cruiser managed to check and tend to Face and Murdock without them seeming to notice. By the time he was finished BA was back and Murdock and Face were huddled in the corner, sound asleep.

At some point Hannibal had managed to light himself a cigar. He had a mouth full of smoke when BA yanked the blanket off one of the beds and dropped it over Face and Murdock. BA Barracus, baddest, angriest man in the Army was a Mom wrapped in a body made of steel. It had Hannibal smiling, blowing smoke up and away.

Hannibal lost track of what was going on and the next thing he knew a cup of black coffee was getting pushed in front of him and Cruiser was taking a seat. "You okay, man?"

"I thought they were dead." Truth was the only language Cruise understood.

Cruiser glanced over to the still forms, taking a slow sip of coffee himself. "They probably were."

"They do any permanent damage with the gun?"

"To themselves, no. The cabin on the other hand. . . ." Cruiser shrugged, the bullet holes didn't stand out amidst the rest of the decor. "They're malnourished as shit, but other than some superficial soft tissue injuries they're fine."

His men were fine and together, and he was exhausted. "One's a drug addict and the other one is as crazy as a shit house rat." More truth.

"Yup." Cruiser agreed, letting the silence sit for a moment. "And BA's the wrong color, you're an adrenaline junkie, and I'm one fight away from a my own court martial." He just looked at Hannibal with a raised brow. Facts were facts. "Or one's the best pilot we've ever had and the other is the best supply officer around." Still facts.

"I almost lost them, Danial." It was the hardest thing he'd ever had to say. They'd been this close to disaster. "I still might." They weren't out of the woods yet, they'd only added hope.

"You've lost men before and it's never been for a lack of trying to save them." There was only so much Hannibal could do. They all had their limits, even if no one wanted to admit to them.

"You're not just men. You're family." The truth and damned if that didn't change everything.

Cruiser leaned back in the chair, nursing the coffee and contemplating. Hannibal had read his file, family was a broadly defined term when it came down to it. "I think that just makes the failures hurt more, Colonel."

As usual Cruiser cut right to the point. "It makes it Goddamned terrifying. More so because there's a damn good chance one of my orders will get you killed. " That was at the heart of why enlisted and officers weren't supposed to fraternize.

"You could always retire, become a civilian and sell spatulas for a living." It wasn't an option, but it did solve the problem. Cruiser looked at him, holding his gaze for a moment. "We're the best there is because we're not just another unit. But that comes with a price, and I think it's one everyone in this room is willing to accept. There's no team and there's no missions without a commander willing to shoulder that burden, but you can't let it paralyze you."

"I'm not paralyzed, son." Hannibal was smiling, dropping a hand on Cruiser's shoulder. Leave it to Cruiser to put things in perspective "But I am damn exhausted."

"Unless you were looking to sleep in a corner too, I'd suggest the empty beds." Setting his coffee cup down, Cruiser's smile dropped a notch. "Get some rest. We'll figure things out tomorrow."

It was all he needed. Nodding slowly Hannibal snuffed out his cigar and pushed himself out of his chair, heading for the bed. The tension, pain and worry was pushed aside by the deep need to sleep, a need Hannibal had been denying for too long. Hannibal was asleep before his body hit the worn out. BA and Cruiser were here, Murdock and Face had made the kind of connection that only made sense to them. His team was safe, he could sleep.