Part 6

"How come you always whined when Hannibal said 'let's go in the front door!' and yet here we are doing exactly the same thing?" Murdock whispered, shifting his position slightly.

Peck rolled his eyes. "I did not always whine!" he countered. "I don't whine – I make positive strategic contributions. And, on this occasion, I happen to believe that this is the correct approach to take."

"Always sounded like whining to me!" Murdock pouted.

Since their quarrel two nights previously they had been living in a nebulous situation where each of them refused to come out and speak plainly about their feelings but each acknowledged that they needed to get along to finish the job. It had not, however, stopped Murdock from taking each and every opening that arose and having a cheap pot shot at Peck, as he was doing now. Still feeling guilty over his actions, the conman had decided not to fight back but to take each verbal attack with good grace. His patience however was wearing thin and he spat his defence on this occasion before he had thought sufficiently about what he was doing.

Face bit back the further wounding response that came to his lips. He didn't want to hurt Murdock, had never wanted that and useless sniping at each other would not help the situation. If it made Murdock feel better then it was OK, he was the injured party after all. Never one to take the moral high ground unless he could see a specific advantage for himself in it, Peck saw his silent acceptance of everything that the pilot threw at him as simply his recognition that he deserved the punishment for his own unreasonable actions.

They needed to talk candidly and at length, both knew it but equally neither felt strong enough yet to broach the subject; each man terrified that the outcome may be even worse than the tenuous present in which they found themselves. So putting the moment off and ignoring the advice of everyone else they had planned to carry on the mission regardless. As they hid behind a delivery truck watching the compound in front, both of them somewhat gratefully accepted that the meaningful talking would have to wait awhile.

"Ssssh!" BA eased his way down beside them. "I could hear you two fools jabbering a mile away. You want to blow this?"

"No!" Peck hissed back. "Here's how we do it. BA take the right, Murdock the left, I'll go through the middle. Simple in and out as we planned. OK?"

"OK!" replied BA.

Murdock merely pouted like a little boy.

Face snorted in frustration. "OK, Murdock?" he repeated.

The pilot nodded slowly. "Suppose," he breathed.

"Let's go, then!"

They peeled out from behind the truck, each picking his way to exploit all the areas of cover towards the main double doors. The plan was simple; to gain entry, find and destroy any drugs that they found there and then leave. But the plan was about to go disastrously wrong!

As they neared the doors Peck could see he would have to break cover in order to cross an empty patch of the yard. He glanced across at Murdock who was inching his way along the side of a truck. As if sensing the other's silent call Murdock's eyes came up to fix on Peck. Years of working together had given them an understanding that transcended words. Peck glanced towards the space and Murdock nodded his understanding.

As Face ran forward, Murdock stepped out from his hiding place, machine gun ready to cover his friend. Neither of them expected there to be any resistance, after all nobody knew they were coming. Neither of them was prepared for the shuddering staccato of the gun that cracked through the air.

Peck froze in mid stride, throwing himself to the left and rolling for cover. He glanced back over his shoulder and his bowels lurched painfully deep inside. Murdock was lying on his back, his gun discarded away to his left.

"Murdock!" Peck hissed.

The gunfire started again. This time coming from in front of them but also from over to the right. BA was laying down covering fire.

Peck gulped. He had found his way behind a pile of tyres and was in a relatively safe position but Murdock was lying exposed having stepped away from the truck. Although the enemy gunfire was currently silenced by BA it was only a matter of time before it would start again. Peck slung his own gun across his back. He took a long deep breath and then he began to run right across the open yard to where the pilot lay. He was unaware of the bullets flying around him and the shouts of both encouragement and abuse. He kept himself focused simply on Murdock, forcing his breathing to be regular as he halved the distance between them.

Finally his grateful fingers tightened around the collar of Murdock's leather jacket and he forcefully pulled the inert body behind the truck. Once there he slumped to the ground, resting his head back on to the truck wheel and taking long gulping breaths, trying to calm the fear that sparked through him.

Thirty years of combat, thirty years of surviving such situations should have held him in good stead, should have meant he could deal with this but as he looked down at Murdock's pale face and saw the blood dripping out unchecked something in Peck snapped.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he said, his voice becoming less controlled with each expletive. He began to shudder uncontrollably, cold sweat broke out of every pore and his vision blurred as tears stung his eyes. "I'm sorry Murdock," he said. "I never meant for this to happen. I am sorry!"

He ran his hands over the pilot getting them as ensanguined as the body of his friend. He was trying to keep control. Deep inside a voice told him this was no way to behave on a battlefield. He should know better and he did, but he just could not stop the tears or the fear from washing right through him. Panic; pure and feral grabbed a hold of him, overwhelming and silencing the voice of the experienced soldier. His muscles went slack and he was suddenly scared stiff. It was all he could do to shake his head minutely and to whisper "Shit!" over and over. After all the years of coping he was suddenly transformed into the pathetic, petrified boy who had pissed himself in the jungles of Vietnam; the boy that only Colonel Hannibal Smith had been able to turn into a soldier.

His heart was beating loudly in his chest, vision dimmed, mind reeling and falling over itself, he was only aware of his fear, nothing else mattered; nothing penetrated the walls he hid behind.

"Face!" the voice hissed beside him but Peck was oblivious. Murdock had come around seconds before, his shoulder where he had taken the wound smarting like hell but the rest of him completely fine. He looked up into the dull lifeless eyes above him and he remembered, a helicopter ride years before, hands petrified to a rifle, soul reaching out for comfort, the smell of mud and blood and piss… "Facey, it's OK!" He tried again. "I'm fine; it's only a flesh wound. Bullet skimmed me, see? Lot of blood but little damage. Face! Listen to me!"

But Peck was lost to him, he simply knelt motionless, muttering almost unintelligible words, gripping hold of Murdock's jacket.

"What happened?" BA seemed to appear from nowhere beside them.

Murdock snorted. "I don't know. Face lost it!"

"Lost it?" Baracus turned to stare into blank eyes, noting the frenzied muttering. "What the? Man we gotta get out of here!"

"Don't I know it!" Murdock retorted. "Help me with him." He tried to move out of Peck's rigid grip but was held firm. "Damn!"

BA took in the whole situation and made a decision. He raised his bejewelled hand and slapped Peck hard across the cheek. The conman's head rocked back but he stopped murmuring and his restricting grip on Murdock was released. He blinked and looked at the questioning sets of eyes that were staring fixedly on him. He moaned, his hand going up to the already vivid welt burning on his cheek where BA had hit him. "What happened?" he groaned.

The staccato rhythm of machine gun fire cut through the air again.

"That's it!" BA snorted. "We go, now!"

He grabbed hold of Peck's shirt collar and pulled him back towards where the van waited. Murdock brought up the rear.

"What happened?" Amy asked as she gunned the motor and they shot away.

Murdock had slumped down into his seat and he gingerly pulled at the shirt around his bloody wound. "Hospital," BA commanded. "Fast." He reached over to help his friend.

"OK!" Amy didn't need further explanation but she glanced over her shoulder. Murdock smiled weakly at her and BA growled for him to sit still. Peck was sitting in the front passenger seat where BA had thrown him, his cheek glowing painfully, his eyes staring distantly through the windshield. Something about his demeanour disquieted the reporter then; she sensed all was not well. "You OK, Face?" Amy asked.

Peck ignored her. "It was like they knew we were coming," he said in a faraway voice. He pulled his arms around his chest as tight as his seat belt and began to rock gently. He never said another word all the time they waited with Murdock in ER and afterwards.

"So what in hell happened?" Amy asked.

They were back in the crowded motel room. Murdock was propped up in bed, his left shoulder enwrapped in a pristine white bandage. BA was scowling sitting by the bathroom door and Amy was on the second bed. Face was prowling nervously up and down the meagre piece of carpet between bed and window. He was running his hand nervously up and down the angry bruise swelling his cheek.

"Didn't go too well," Murdock said in stating-the-obvious mode. He was feeling a little stiff but having been pumped full of painkillers at the hospital, he could feel little more. "Unless of course having a semi-automatic machine gun mounted at the entrance to your business is a usual requirement for delivery firms in LA nowadays!"

"That's what shot you?" Amy asked.

"Uh-huh, would have killed me too if Faceyman hadn't run the gauntlet and pulled me out of there."

"So who hit you?" Amy asked Peck but he turned away from her, his face twisted with bewilderment and continued his pacing.

"I did," BA growled.

"You hit Face?" Amy was incredulous. "Why?"

"Because I deserved it!" Peck's voice was raw with a dangerous quality Amy had not heard before. He looked back towards the bed, gulping. "I lost it," he said finally. "I saw all that blood on Murdock and I thought…" He stood completely motionless, head bowed. "I acted like a FNB!" he spat the words out with disgust and then turned on his heel and stalked out.

"Face!" Amy called.

"Leave him," BA said. "He needs to sort this out in his head." He shook his head slowly. "Too much baggage!" He stood up then. "I gotta go, promised Aisha I'd look after the kids tonight, she's got Pilates."

"Sure, big guy," Murdock said. "No worries."

BA stopped at the door. "He beating himself up again," he said. "Do him no good in the end."

"I know BA," Murdock replied.

"That look in his eye, I ain't seen that since Nam, in the very beginning. Hoped I'd never see it again."

Murdock sighed. "We'll sort it BA," he relied softly. BA nodded and then left, the door banging closed behind him.

"What look in his eye?" Amy asked.

"I don't know if I can tell you, Amy," Murdock said. "You had to be there and if you weren't it's not my story to tell."

"Would Face tell me if I asked him?"

"Hell, he'd rather stake himself out on a mountain of killer ants than admit to any of it."

"But it explains what happened today?" Amy pushed.

Murdock shook his head. "Nope, but it explains why we are so scared by today. You see you think of Face as a good soldier, a Green Beret, don't you?" Amy nodded. Murdock flexed his long legs on the bed and stretched. "Wasn't always so, Face was a pretty bad soldier, piss-poor in fact, before he met Hannibal. The Colonel he saw something in Face, like an uncut diamond and he set about changing him, redefining him into what he wanted him to be, but the first few times Face went into the jungle, he froze, petrified and powerless, literally scared stiff."

"And that was what happened today?" Amy asked.

Murdock nodded, unwilling to disclose anymore even to Amy. "But why?" Amy pushed. "What was different about today?"

Murdock shrugged. "I don't know. That's the scary part. For thirty years Face has been the consummate soldier, he's watched comrades, friends even lovers get blown apart in front of him. He's had blood and brains splattered on him and he's been abused in despicable ways but he has never faltered, never resorted to the fearful, little boy he was before Hannibal. But today… today both BA and I saw that boy in his eyes. For a few minutes out there he was a blubbering, pathetic wreck. And much as that scares me, it will absolutely terrify Face."

Amy nodded. There was something obvious here they were overlooking, something that was calling out to them in explanation, they just had to find it. She let out a sudden breath as the reason hit her with all the intensity of the bullet that had skimmed Murdock's shoulder earlier. "It's you," she said.

"Me?" Murdock repeated, puzzled.

"Don't you get it?" Amy moved forwards now, animated by her revelation. "You said it yourself; he's seen comrades, friends even lovers blown apart in front of him. But you and I know that Face has never let himself go, lovers he may have had but to actually love someone with all the commitment and complication that comes with it, he has never allowed himself that. Not until you!"

"But he's seen me wounded before," Murdock said.

"Yes, but Hannibal was in command then and Face, although he cared for you, had not committed to you, not like he has now!"

"Committed - like he did when he went out with Lorelei, you mean?" Murdock snapped uncharacteristically.

"Don't be an idiot, Murdock! You know he regrets that, understands how much he hurt you. He told me the other night nobody had ever entrusted him with their heart before, not like you have. He must have thought he had lost you, lost it all. That's the difference; the other times in Nam he was frightened for himself, today he was scared for you. No wonder he lost it!"

Murdock gulped and nodded slowly. He pulled himself wearily off the bed. "Guess I better go find him," he said. "I never like it when he's hurting and we need to talk." He moved to the door. "Thanks Amy – you staying?"

She smiled. "No, I think I'll leave you two to sort out your differences. God is that the time? I got dinner to cook!"

TBC