The loud bang resonated of the walls of the cabin, and before Hannibal's conscious mind could process what he was doing, he was on his feet, gun trained sharply on the door. He promptly lowered it the next second.
The wet, panting Captain in the doorway spared no second glance at the gun. His brown eyes were wild as he searched his CO's gaze, and the only thing he managed was a hoarse breathless "Colonel "
But Hannibal already saw the reason of his agitation. The pale, drenched figure in his arms, whose lips were already turning blue. For half a moment, even as his feet carried him to his Lieutenant, he panicked. Then he felt a detached calm descend on him, burying his initial burst of cold fear, while his quick mind was assessing the situation. He is shivering. Good
BA emerged from the kitchen, his voice annoyed:
"Whatcha doin', foo-?"
"BA, get the blankets," Hannibal quickly ordered, helping his Captain put Face onto the couch. His only response was the sound of hastily retreating steps. "Captain, towels."
Murdock was gone before Hannibal even finished the phrase.
Hannibal wasted no time in getting the drenched T-shirt off his Lieutenant. By the moment he was finished, Murdock was already kneeling by his side, handing him the dry towels. Hannibal gave a short nod, started wiping the moisture away from Face's body. Murdock wordlessly began unfastening Face's shoelaces, his fingers shaky with cold and adrenaline.
"You'll be okay, Facey," he whispered to the unresponsive Lieutenant as he pulled down one of his shoes, his movements so careful as if he was afraid his friend would shatter right there. "You'll be okay. I promise."
And Hannibal wondered whether he was trying to reassure Face or himself with the litany.
BA rushed back into the room, a pile of blankets in his arms, and the Colonel ordered in a tone that brooked no argument:
"BA, give me the blankets, and take these jeans off him. Murdock, put a kettle to boil and then go change into dry clothes," Murdock opened his mouth as if to protest, but was faced with a sharp uncompromising gaze: "Now, Captain. I don't need two sick men on my team."
The pilot hesitated briefly, shot a last unsure glance at Face and then disappeared into the kitchen. BA took his place by Face's side in a matter of seconds, quickly pulling the rest of drenched clothes off him and drying his skin with a towel before covering him with a blanket. His calm, quick, confident movements spoke of obvious experience. Probably had something to do with the daycare centre he kept he was more than used to being a babysitter and a caregiver, after all. It was like his second nature, if not the first one.
Through the whole procedure Face's sightless eyes stared ahead, blinking slowly, but suddenly he gave a violent shudder and broke into a cough, his breath wheezing. Hannibal swiftly wrapped his arm around his shoulders, pulled him up against his own chest to ease his breathing. Face struggled briefly, not understanding where he was, his intakes of air growing shorter, more erratic and panicked as he coughed.
When Hannibal spoke, his voice sounded a lot calmer than he felt:
"Easy, kid, it's just me. Come on, breathe with me. In, out. In, out That's right, you can do it, it's easy. In, out. In, out..."
It took some time for his voice to sink in and break through the panicked haze, but gradually, his calm intonation and purposefully deep, measured intakes of air did their job. Face's breathing evened out slowly, his body relaxed and his eyelids drooped tiredly, even though he was still shivering. Hannibal gave his shoulders a slight squeeze and rearranged the blanket which had slid down during the coughing fit, wrapping it around Face's shoulders. He heard BA blow a small relieved sigh, as if it was his Sergeant who had had trouble breathing. Then he lifted his gaze to see Murdock, still in wet clothes, looking at Face with an openly anguished expression. He frowned, but before he could say anything his Captain caught his eye and ducked into the bedroom. Hannibal decided to let it go for now, but resolved to find out what it was about later. He carefully lowered his Lieutenant back onto the couch, positioning him on his side, covered him with a second blanket and proceeded to dry his hair with a towel.
"'m sorry," Face mumbled quietly, his eyes still closed. Hannibal paused for a moment, slightly startled, but then resumed his ministrations, his movements sure and firm, but gentle.
"What was that, Lieutenant?" he asked, keeping his voice carefully light.
Face grimaced slightly in response, and it became glaringly obvious to the Colonel that he hadn't meant to say the last part out loud.
"Nothing, sir."
Hannibal and BA exchanged glances. BA looked concerned and exasperated, but was still patiently silent, which meant that he, too, realized that it was more than 'nothing', but thought that now wasn't the right time to push. Hannibal nodded in silent agreement.
"If you say so, Lieutenant."
Face grimaced again, which meant that he had picked up the intonation and the unsaid uncompromising promise "We will talk about it later". Hannibal couldn't help but grin at him. Blindness did little to dull his XO's other perceptions. He patted Face's shoulder, suddenly feeling much more cheerful and confident that everything would work out just fine.