ACK! First I perform another of my relocations (this time to the Canaries) and then I had to wait a week for internet access! I'm really sorry for the wait; it won't happen like this again. At least, not until February when I'm due to move again...
lunaz: Thanks :)
trauma: Well...maybe it will, maybe it won't *evil grin*
Ecda: This is true...although it rather depends on Hannibal ;)
anonymouse: One update, as requested. As for why Face is out cold...just stopping the blood flow isn't enough to wake a person (at least, not immediately; they'd need a while to recover first).
Face came back to himself very slowly. The bed was unfamiliar, the smell of clean, fresh sheets and blankets...it was like when he'd been with the Team. The tiniest flex of his wrist told him that someone had bandaged his injuries.
He was in a room. He was in a bed. He was also in Murdock's jacket, which confused him a little.
Hospital? No. No, there was no smell of chemicals or disinfectant that Face had learned to associate with hospitals.
One particular smell – cigar smoke – shocked him back into reality and he snapped his eyes open and looked over to where a familiar figure was sitting in an easy chair with a novel.
"Hannibal?" It was a croak of disbelief.
The colonel glanced up from his book, folded the corner of the page down to mark his place and put it on the table.
"Hey kid. How you feeling?" Casual, keep it casual. Never mind that a part of him wanted to grab Face and hug him tighter than he'd ever hugged anyone before...or failing that, slap the kid and then shake him until his teeth rattled for putting him through this ordeal. Of the two, he thought Face would prefer the second course of action.
"What are you doing here?" That question brought a more urgent one to Face's mind and he struggled to sit up. "What am I doing here? Where's here? What happened?"
Hannibal caught hold of the lieutenant's shoulders, restraining him. "Easy. Easy. You're okay now, kid. Lie back down."
Face complied, as much because of the sudden wave of dizziness that bolted through his head as any obeisance to Hannibal.
"Where am I?" he repeated, once the little stars in front of his eyes had stopped twinkling.
"Still in Chicago. We rented an apartment until you were back on your feet."
The lieutenant stared at him, then shook his head slowly. "Goddamn you, Hannibal. How far do I have to go to get away from you?"
"Well, not as far as you almost did!" Hannibal retorted, stung.
Face turned his head away and didn't answer. Hannibal took a deep breath, then let it out in a sigh.
"Kid, if you really want to leave the Team, then I'll let you leave." He reached out and put an arm across the lieutenant's chest as Face attempted to sit up again and do just that. "But not until you're fully recovered and not until I know you're not going to do something like this again."
The lieutenant gave a bitter, cynical laugh. "What do you care whether I do or not?"
"I care, Face, because I care about you, even if you do make that damn difficult at times," Hannibal couldn't resist adding.
Face winced away as though the words were physically painful. A casual observer might have thought this was a guilty reaction to the last part of the sentence. Hannibal knew better: during Face's life, the phrase I care about you had become synonymous with the phrase I'm going to screw you over and then kick you when you're down.
Get a grip, idiot. You didn't save his life to take cheap shots at him.
Hannibal looked away, then looked back and took a deep breath.
"Face, I'm sorry."
The lieutenant stared at the ceiling. "Sorry? Why? You found out my secret, Hannibal. You got what you wanted."
"I never wanted this!" Hannibal yanked one of Face's bandaged wrists up for emphasis, then let it drop. "Why the hell didn't you call me sooner?"
Face gave a hollow laugh. "Gee, Hannibal, I don't know. Maybe because you were the cause of it?"
Hannibal sat back slowly in his chair, stunned and more than a little hurt. "That's not fair."
The lieutenant looked away. "No. You're right. It's not." Beat. "I'm sorry."
"I don't want your apologies, kid; I just want to know you're not going to do anything stupid!"
Another hollow laugh. "How can I? Something tells me I'm not going to find any sharp objects in the bathroom."
"I didn't say that."
"No, but you meant it, didn't you?" Reaching up, Face felt around his jaw experimentally. "Who shaved me?"
"Murdock. We figured if you woke up suddenly, he was the one you'd be least likely to kill."
Face curled his lip. "Right. You let a crazy guy play with razor blades around my face."
"Well, after what you did with the last razor blade you had—" Hannibal began, then broke off abruptly. Even he could tell when he was crossing the line.
Face stared at him. There was something in his eyes that Hannibal didn't like the look of.
"Get out."
It would have been better if he'd yelled. The low, venomous hiss sent a chill down Hannibal's spine and before he knew what he was doing, he was outside Face's bedroom with the door closed and no real recollection of how he'd got there.
"So, how'd it go?" Murdock inquired from his perch on the kitchen table.
"He's not speaking."
Hannibal's voice was quiet. Just because Face wasn't talking, didn't mean he wasn't listening.
Murdock raised an eyebrow. "Didja think it was gonna be easy, Colonel? That Face was gonna melt and instantly recover the instant he laid eyes on the great Hannibal Smith?"
Hannibal leaned against the counter, mind churning. "No, but I didn't think it'd be this hard either. Talk some sense into him, would you, Murdock?"
Murdock raised his eyebrows. "So now Faceman needs sense talkin' into him, jus' because he refused to listen to you?"
"Well—"
"What he needs, Colonel, is what he needed before: for you to leave him alone an' let him sort this out his way."
"Murdock, I tried leaving him alone and doing it his way and look where it led!"
Murdock's expression was decidedly unsympathetic as he answered, "Sure, Hannibal. Then you tried goin' in with the big guns an' doin' it your way, and look where that led!
Hannibal's mouth opened and closed several times but no sound came out. Eventually he managed, "You can't seriously think that this was my fault!"
Murdock raised his eyebrows. "Why not, Hannibal? You do."
There was no real answer to that, and so Hannibal decided not to make one. Besides, the words had a nasty ring of truth to them.
"Hannibal, I told you you shoulda let me talk to him an' you didn't! I told you you shoulda let me be the one he saw when he woke up an' you didn't do that either! An' I'm tellin' you now that you ain't goin' anywhere near Face until he invites you himself an' if you can't handle that, then you know where the goddamn door is!"
Hannibal stared at Murdock, speechless. The captain had never spoken to him like this before, even in 'Nam.
"Murdock—"
"Colonel, I know you care about Face an' you wanna help him," Murdock cut across in a more sympathetic voice, "but right now the best thing you can do is back off an' lemme talk to him. Alone," he added pointedly.
Hannibal opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Dammit, he's right. Murdock was quite literally the only person in the world who Face had ever learned to trust completely. The two of them seemed to have some kind of bond which went deeper than anything Hannibal had ever managed with his lieutenant. And not only that, but with the amount of time Murdock had spent in the VA, his experience of this kind of thing was a whole lot better than most people's.
Slowly, Hannibal nodded. "Alright. But if he—"
"Ah ah!" Murdock held up a warning finger, then levelled it at Hannibal's nose. "But nothin', Hannibal! You agreed to butt out, so butt out! Lemme talk to him."
He hopped off the table and strolled through the door, closing it behind him, before Hannibal had a chance to respond.
Sitting up in bed, Face eyed Murdock warily. He wasn't stupid, and while he hadn't heard most of Hannibal and Murdock's conversation (although not for lack of trying) he was sure that the pilot's arrival so soon after Hannibal's departure could only mean one thing.
"He sent you, didn't he?"
"Nope!" Murdock hopped onto the chair and crossed his legs fakir-style, grinning.
"Come on, Murdock. I heard you talking. Hannibal figures you're more likely to get through to me and so he backs off and sends you in to try and cure me of whatever he's convinced is making me crazy."
"Oh sure, he thinks he sent me, but I was about ready to come in here anyway." The grin disappeared and Murdock added more seriously, "How you feelin'?"
Face gave a hollow laugh. "How am I feeling? I did everything I could to get away from that son of a bitch and he still tracks me all the way to Chicago and drags my butt back into his little Team. How d'you think I'm feeling?"
Murdock knew better than to try and defend Hannibal; at the moment, Face was in no mood to hear it and it would just lead to the lieutenant shutting him out too.
"Actually, Faceman, I only wanted to know if your wrists hurt."
Face glanced down at the bandages, then shrugged. "They ache a little."
Murdock brought his legs up and hugged them tightly, regarding Face over the knees. "What did it feel like? When you did it?"
The lieutenant tilted his head back as he considered. "Strange. It didn't hurt as much as I thought. It was just tiring. And...relaxing. Like this whole rush of calmness. Nothing seemed to matter. No more running. No more nightmares. I could just lie down and sleep forever."
Put like that, Murdock could almost see the appeal. Almost.
"Of course, that was before Hannibal decided to catapult himself back into my life again. Why can't he just take a hint? He just wants me to be grateful to him for saving me, even though I didn't want to be saved!"
Murdock was silent for a few seconds, not least because Face had directed this little diatribe at the closed bedroom door.
"Why couldn't he leave me alone? Why the hell couldn't that smug, sanctimonious bastard just leave...me...alone?"
"Are you askin' me or him?"
Face glanced at Murdock with a surprised look, as though he'd forgotten the pilot was in the room, then relaxed a little.
"You, I guess."
"Aw, Faceman. You know Hannibal better than that. Besides, you never said he shouldn't tear the whole a the US apart lookin' for ya."
Face gave Murdock a brittle smile. "Oh, my mistake. You know, when a guy packs his things and leaves in the middle of the night, I'da thought it was obvious that guy was telling people he didn't want to be found. Guess Hannibal's not as smart as he claims."
Murdock grinned, stretching one leg out. "Faceman, since when does Hannibal do what he's told?"
The lieutenant stared at him for a few minutes, then his lips twitched. He didn't quite laugh, but it was a close thing.
"So how long'd you live in that crummy little apartment anyway?" Murdock wanted to know. "I mean, c'mon Faceman, couldn't you've found a better place'n that?"
Face shrugged, not looking at him. "I wasn't planning to be there that long."
"Uh...when you say that, d'you mean you were plannin' to move out, or—"
"I wanted out, Murdock!" Face interrupted. There was a look in his eyes that Murdock really didn't like; he'd seen it too often in the VA not to know what it meant. "I wanted out then and I want out now!"
Murdock studied Face in silence for a few minutes, then shrugged. "Okay."
Face eyed him warily. "Okay what?"
"Here ya go." Murdock pulled his gun out of his waistband and handed it to Face. "Kinda noisy, an' a little messier than what you were plannin', but on the plus side, you won't feel a thing."
Face's jaw dropped. "You mean...you want me to..."
"Want you to? Hell no, Faceman! But I ain't gonna shoot my best buddy, no matter what you say. An' don't you try and con me now, 'cause that won't work either."
Face looked down at the gun and moistened his lips slowly, then back up at Murdock.
"Nice try. That thing's not even loaded."
The pilot shrugged. "Only one way to find out. 'Course, you'll understand if I don't watch you do it."
He turned away; if he kept staring at Face, the lieutenant might take that as a challenge or even Murdock's egging him on. He just hoped he hadn't made a fatal mistake.
A few seconds later, the gun was hurled onto the floor with a muffled thud.
"Leave me alone, Murdock."
Turning back, Murdock shrugged. "Sure, Faceman. You want me to fetch you a drink first?"
The lieutenant still didn't look at him. "Depends. You got any cyanide?"
"Well, I'll check, but I think we're all out. How 'bout some arsenic? Ain't as quick, but it tastes a whole lot nicer."
Face didn't smile, but he didn't snap at Murdock either.
"Or I could jus' get you a nice hot coffee if that's what you want. Long's you promise not to throw it at Hannibal."
"The only thing I want, Murdock, is for you to get out and leave me in peace. Think you can manage that?"
The pilot shrugged again and got to his feet. "Whatever you say. I'll come on back later an' check on you."
Face stared at him for a second or two, then turned his back and didn't answer.
Okay, so next chapter done and dusted! Hope you liked it and if you read, please review!
