Time for waking up again
This is not the end
Don't know where I need to begin
"County jail."
Four in the morning and the phone call had B.A. and Hannibal packing up their belongings from the third house in as many months. Leaving once again with more of their ever shrinking cash reserve gone and another one of Face's fake identities burnt.
It shouldn't have been like this. They'd seen too much and gone through even more, but without Murdock the team was falling apart and B.A. hated feeling like there wasn't any way to stop it. Hated that if Face staggered back to the house in the same night he left, never mind if it'd be with minor injuries, they counted it as a victory. It was still better than when he'd disappear for days on end, leaving B.A. and Hannibal to scour every square inch of whatever town they were in for their missing teammate.
That where Murdock's constant chatter and ridiculous antics should have been was now a space filled with stunted and hushed conversations. The overpowering silence only held off by B.A.'s new found habit of leaving T.V.s or radios on, even after he'd left the room.
"Whatcha doing big guy?"
B.A. heard the question from his vantage point under the carriage of the van and knew not answering would only cause more noise.
"Working, fool. What does it look like?"
"Well from here it looks like two of big ol' mudsucka feet sticking out from under this van." Murdock's grinning face briefly appeared down by B.A.'s feet.
"Man, you gonna keep talking or you gonna let me work on my girl in peace?" B.A. began turning the wrench again when an answer didn't come, but didn't get half a twist before there was scuffling and grunting then Murdock slid underneath the van with him.
"Need any help?"
B.A. knew Hannibal tried so hard to keep things together. To get them back on their feet, with ideas and plans for potential jobs. But even as the Colonel did what he did best, B.A. knew the only thing that would happen when they got up from the kitchen table where rushed diagrams were etched on scraps of paper, was that they'd continue to quietly move around each other, only making things worse by taking their grieving on alone.
Rubbing a hand roughly over tired eyes, B.A. watched through the windshield as Hannibal approached the van, barely contained anger brimming just under his composed surface. If there'd been anyone else in the jail's parking lot, not that there would be at 4:30 in the morning, they'd have only seen the calm features of the older man. But after more than 10 years under his command, the mechanic knew different.
B.A. didn't say a word when the vehicle was flooded with the stink of cigarettes and booze as Face with a black eye and blood on his shirt, flung the side door open and shakily climbed in.
After a brief struggle to get it closed, the conman gave up and like every other time they'd done this, crawled into the darkness at the very back of the van. Where B.A. knew that out of sight of the two other men, Face would curl up around the cremation box that had been given to him with whispered sympathies at the funeral home, what felt like a life time ago.
When they'd made it to three months in their newest place Hannibal was surprised. He had thought that springing Face from the last jail had quelled the younger man's urge to go out and drown his grief in drinking and fighting.
Unfortunately, what Hannibal hadn't realized was that all it meant was eventually the fighting was going to take place within the house and between each other.
Something that had just begun, judging by the way wall suddenly shuddered against his headboard and the burst of shouting that woke him from deep sleep.
He quickly left his bed and hurried down the hall, turning the corner into the living room in time to see B.A.'s fist connect with Face's jaw. Their shouts and blows against each other echoing around the room as he rushed to separate them.
"Stand down!" The order fell on deaf ears, the pair too worried about drawing blood from the other to care.
Hannibal barely missed having his nose broken by Face when he'd stepped in between the two men as words failed to do the job. He shoved B.A. hard against the front door as he caught the conman's right arm in a tight grip.
"What in the hell are you doing?" The older man growled as he looked at each man. Face with a split lip and a bruise already swelling up where the mechanic's fist had landed and B.A. with blood leaking from his nose and eyebrow.
"Let go of me." Face slurred, trying to pull away. "I'm not some fucking kid."
"You sure as hell aren't acting like an adult." Hannibal countered, relaxing his hold on B.A. as the fight went out of the mechanic.
"No? Oh, I'm so sorry I'm such a fucking disappointment." Face spat bitterly as he yanked his arm again. "That I'm not handling things the way you think I should."
The words pulled Hannibal up short and he looked at the younger man, really looked and what he saw, what he'd missed the entire time, made the Colonel sick to his stomach.
Unwashed greasy hair and pale skin took the place of the carefully constructed appearance Face had taken pride in for as long as Hannibal had known him. Glassy, blood shot eyes were dark rimmed from lack of sleep. His face puffy from too much of the cheap alcohol that stung Hannibal's eyes with every exhale Face made.
How had he let it get this bad? How had he let his boys fall apart like this?
Hannibal loosened his hold as Face stared at him, searching. Blue eyes filled with something so base, unrecognizable and the Colonel realized that in 15 years, this was the first time he'd ever seen the kid with his guard completely down.
"Face…"
"No." Came the response, instantly angry and defensive as his gaze flicked from Hannibal to where B.A. still blocked the door. Before anything else could be said Face turned and bolted out of the room, the back door slamming shut at his exit.
"You can't go after him now." B.A. had said while Hannibal stitched up his eyebrow. "He'll be back. Just needs time."
3:42 a.m. Hannibal read the stove's digital read out and turned the low heat on the pot of milk. He settled at the small kitchen table, dropping his head into his hands with a weary sigh.
"Hey, bossman can't sleep?"
"Jesus." Hannibal hadn't been able to hide his shocked jump from the chuckling pilot.
"Mmm, not this week." Murdock verified as he had silently padded to the fridge and pulled out the milk before he'd begun to dig through the counters.
The Colonel had always had trouble sleeping, something Murdock with his own strange nocturnal habits had been aware of. The pair had routinely kept insomniac company over the years.
But the sleeplessness had only gotten worse when they'd gone on the run. Especially in the last few months, since the team's dynamic had shifted once again and in a way Hannibal felt he had no control.
He watched Murdock as one hand stirred the milk while the other scratched between his shoulder blades at an angle that would have been awkward for anyone else.
The same as countless other times they'd sat together in the middle of the night but Hannibal still couldn't stop the uncomfortable twinge when he'd noticed the pajama bottoms the pilot wore belonged to Face.
"How's it taste?" Murdock had asked minutes later after placing the glass of warmed milk in front of him.
"Good." Hannibal had responded. "Did you add more cayenne this time?"
"Nope. Still the same as Gramma made it."
"Murdock, what did you do?" The older man had questioned warily as the pilot's gaze held steady.
"Same stuff. But I did warm it up here and this stove's not the same as the one at Benning. Most definitely different from my sandy little camp stove in Iraq."
Hannibal took another sip of the warm, familiar liquid and shook his head. "It shouldn't matter where you cook it. That shouldn't change the..."
Murdock's small but triumphant grin had cut the Colonel's words off with an almost audible snap.
As Hannibal stared at the milk in realization Murdock slid from his chair. "I'm heading back to bed, sir. Glad you understand it's still the same."
The bubbling of the boiling liquid on the stove brought Hannibal out of his thoughts and to his feet. Shifting the pot to the backburner he started looking through the spices on the rack.
He'd let his team, his boys down when they needed him and each other the most.
Both of them, but especially Face. Hannibal had been so worried about pushing his second in command too hard. Not understanding that the younger man had needed help to get out of the quicksand before being dragged down and suffocated.
Time. Hannibal knew B.A. was right but it'd been two days and there hadn't even been a call from Face or any sign of him at the various bars in town or thankfully the jail.
"God, kid, I'm sorry. I should have known. Should have seen." Hannibal said to the empty room as he rubbed a hand through his hair.
"It's not your fault, boss. It's mine."
At the response from the familiar but tired voice, Hannibal turned in his chair. "Face."
The conman stood at the back threshold, still exhausted but eyes clear and sober.
"You alright?" The Colonel asked; as Face shut the door behind him as he entered the house.
"I don't…" Hannibal watched the other man's gaze dart around the room before it zeroed in on him. "No, I'm not." The pure honesty of the answer had Face sinking into one of the chairs.
"It's my fault. I should have gotten out of bed. If I'd gone…" Face began to shake, fist against the table as his words started running together. The blame on himself, the anger, the shame.
The force of the admission surprised Hannibal but he let Face have it, like he should have months ago. Seeing all of it spoken aloud, something Face hadn't done since that first night at the hospital; the weight being eased with each admission.
"I can't do it. I'm sorry. I let you down. The team…Murdock."
Face put his head in his hands, voice lower, raw and exposed. "I can't even smell him anymore. I wake up and it jars me. He's gone. My best friend. I never had to bullshit him. Hell, I couldn't. He could see right through it. Always. But he loved me anyway." Face looked up and met Hannibal's eyes. "No one else has ever, ever done that. All these shattered pieces and he was the glue that kept me together."
"Yeah, Crazy Glue." B.A., voice thick with emotion as he walked into the kitchen and placed a hand on Face's shoulder before sitting down. "I'm sorry I punched you in the jaw."
"No, Bosco, I'm sorry." The conman apologized as he wiped a hand across his face. "Trust me, I needed it."
The three of them sat around the table, talking and making plans, ones that would come around this time. And as the sun started to peek through the windows they found themselves speaking at a normal volume; finally discarding the quiet tone they'd become so familiar with.
"Bosco! Hannibal!" Face called out, turning away from the man he was speaking with when his teammates stepped through the hangar door.
"We really gonna do this?" B.A. asked Hannibal as he glanced at the helicopter while Face continued talking with the pilot.
"It's what Murdock would have wanted." Hannibal responded, then added. "Plus, I think it's time. It'll do Face good. All of us good."
Once inside the helicopter the pilot introduced himself as Mike before taking off. They flew for miles over the city and toward the ocean where Face stood up, grasping the familiar box to his stomach as he looked out the open door.
"You sure you don't wanna help, Bosco?" He winked at B.A.'s disgruntled face then turned back to the view of the ocean as B.A. muttered,
"Crazy just like Murdock."
The water of the lake sparkled like diamonds as the sun set low over the trees. Deep oranges and purples bouncing off the calm surface that Face and Murdock sat watching from the shore on a blanket they'd taken from the lake house.
Murdock kept shifting restlessly against Face's chest, which the conman recognized as a sign of irritation.
"What's up, bud?" Face asked; running a hand down the pilot's arm.
Murdock looked out at the water not meeting Face's eyes, his features schooled in seriousness, "We're not gonna be running forever are we?"
"No, hell, no." Face promised then leaned forward to nuzzle behind Murdock's ear.
"When we're done," Murdock paused but still didn't look at Face, "Can we still have this? Like this right now?"
"Always." Face answered as he bent and kissed Murdock's shoulder then the pilot twisted around, all trouble gone from his eyes. "I love you."
"I love you." Face whispered as he took the lid off the box and held his arms out, letting the ashes go into the wind.