Title: The Closet
Summary: A what happened next for the episode Mind Games.
Warnings: Spoilers for Mind Games
Face stood leaning heavily against the side of his car. It had only taken one attempt of putting weight on his left leg to realize that he wasn't walking anywhere without some help. Murdock wordlessly slipped himself under Face's shoulder and together they made their way toward Hannibal's apartment.
B.A. opened the door before they had a chance to knock. "What happened to you, man?" he asked while holding the door open for the pair to move inside.
Face was too preoccupied by pain, so Murdock said, "We had to make a quick escape out my window. Face landed wrong when he jumped." He eased the injured man onto the couch and stepped back to give Hannibal room to move in.
"How bad?" Hannibal questioned.
Murdock shrugged his shoulders. "He can't put any weight on it."
"He can answer for himself," Face said through gritted teeth. "And I'm…"
"Fine," the other three finished his sentence for him.
"You getting' predictable, fool."
"Murdock, Grab me a pair of scissors from the kitchen, would ya?"
"Sure thing, Colonel."
Face shook his head. "Oh no you don't. You're no cutting up these pants! Do you know how much Armani is going for these days?"
"It's either that or you strip. And seeing that we don't want to see you in your drawers, we do it my way."
Face lay his head back on the couch in defeat. He really didn't care all that much about the pants anyway. It was just another part of his act he felt he had to perform to keep the others satisfied.
Hannibal began cutting away at the pants and Face closed his eyes not quite sure he wanted to see what was underneath. That idea went out the door as Hannibal began probing his knee. Face's eyes flew open and he tried to pull away.
"Sorry, kid," Hannibal sympathized, while reaching over and putting a hand in Face's shoulder to keep him down. "Looks like the knee cap is dislocated."
"You must have left it back at the VA, Facey," Murdock joked.
"Just like you left your mind there," B.A. teased.
"Maybe the big guy and I could help you relocate it?"
Hannibal glanced at Face and saw that he had been distracted by the playful banter. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he swiftly took hold of the knee and pushed it back into place.
Face gasped and went from a pasty white to a shade of green in a matter of seconds.
"Jesus Hannibal," he moaned. "A little warning before you do that would be nice." But Face knew that Hannibal had done him a favor; if he had known what was coming he would have only tensed up making it far worse.
Noticing the rapid breathing and sickly pallor of his friend, Hannibal felt a pang of guilt. "You feel like you are going to be sick?" Face moaned in the affirmative. "Just lay still...try to slow your breathing."
Looking over at B.A., Hannibal didn't have to say a word before B.A. said, "On it," and left the room. When you had been together for so many years, sometimes all it took was a look to know what the other person was thinking. B.A. returned moments later with an ace bandage, a glass of water, and a bucket…just in case.
Hannibal waited until Face's breathing returned to normal and he no longer looked as if he needed the bucket before tightly wrapping the knee. He figured this was as good a time as any to get down to the matter at hand.
"We need to talk, Lieutenant."
Face recognized the serious tone of his voice and tried to play innocent. "About the new job? As long as I don't have to jump any fences or chase any bad guys, I should be fine."
"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about you."
"What about me?"
Out of his pocket he pulled a cigar. "Well, to be blunt," he pointed the cigar at Face, "you look like crap."
"Gee, thanks, Colonel. How about I pull one of your joints in and out of socket and see what you look like afterward?"
"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it."
"You ain't been yourself lately, man," B.A. chimed in.
"Oh really," Face said crossing his arms defensively. "And just who have I been?"
"Your double talkin' might work with some folk, but it ain't gonna work with us, sucker."
"What B.A, is trying to say is that we can see that something isn't right, and we just want to help."
"Well, thanks for the concern, but I'm fine...case closed."
Murdock had been fidgeting nervously in the corner, torn between keeping his earlier promise to Face and his sincere concern for the man. Face had always been there for him when he was having problems and he loved the man too much to stand by and say nothing. "You're not fine, buddy," he said softly.
"Murdock," Face said, looking at him with pleading eyes.
Murdock took a deep breath and said a silent prayer that he was doing the right thing. "He's having nightmares again," he blurted out.
The room went silent and all eyes turned to Face who was looking into his lap trying to avoid them. "It's just a few bad dreams."
Hannibal walked over and took a seat next to Face, who immediately tensed up. "About what?"
"None of your business. Can you all please just leave me alone?"
"No can do, Muchacho."
He stood up; grimacing at the strain on his knee. "Well if you won't leave me alone, then I'll do the leaving." He started limping away.
"We're not done here, Lieutenant."
"Yes, we are," Face seethed through gritted teeth, as he painfully continued toward the door. Determined to get out of the room as quickly as possible, he didn't notice B.A. coming and grabbing his arms from behind.
"You ain't leaving until you talk to us, man." B.A.s hold was firm, but his words were soft. It was of no matter because Face couldn't hear him anyway; he could only feel his arms being pinned down again as they had been weeks earlier and many years ago.
Face felt hot and cold all at once. He wanted to scream, but he couldn't find his voice. He wanted to fight, but he was paralyzed by fear. His chest felt tight and he struggled to breathe. The room swirled around him; he could feel himself growing weak. And then everything went black.
Hannibal and Murdock watched as Face's eyes rolled back in his head and his body went limp.
