Kryptonite – 3 Doors Down
The first time Murdock went Ranger Mode, Face didn't even register it. He'd been too busy dragging a man he'd just met back into a chopper that he was pretty sure was made up of more rust than steel and wondering how Hannibal had talked him into this particularly harrowing flight. The words, "Close the door! I know you're airborne rangers, but that was ridiculous!" shouted at him from the cockpit had only reached his frazzled mind because they were spoken as an order.
Close the door. Now. Face figured a part of him recognized that Hannibal had called Murdock 'Captain' back in the hospital and his subconscious had latched onto that, labeling the pilot a superior officer instinctively.
But it wasn't until years later, when he knew Murdock well enough to spot it, that Face realized how very out of character the moment had been. Murdock had not only sounded like a Captain, he'd issued an order, with the expectation of having it followed immediately clear in his tone. Murdock explained that sometimes, "When the going gets tough, the crazy gets going," if only for a moment. Throughout their years serving together and then doing missions on the run, it happened again from time to time. When the 'going got tough' as Murdock had put it and they really needed Murdock to be more 'Ranger' than 'Crazy,' he always came through.
It was just how 'Ranger' he could get that surprised Face. He'd excelled at combat training himself but the pilot - despite being just that, a pilot, not a footsoldier - was on another level entirely. Or… more like a level to the left, as many of Murdock's moves came from video games or kung fu movies. Not that Face couldn't win a friendly tussle in camp. He had won his fair share (though, Bosco tended to take the gold in hand-to-hand), but when Murdock went Ranger Mode, as he called it, something different was at play and something more than just the pilot's wildcard personality. Moves Face didn't know, tricks that weren't in the Ranger repertoire, skills that looked suspiciously like special ops… and it turned out it was just that. Murdock had spent time in special ops for a few years before Mexico. He just didn't talk about it.
And Face didn't push it. It was clear the pilot hadn't been discharged due to any physical disability. And he'd logged enough hours flying dangerous missions and been decorated with so many medals that Face figured the mental side of things hadn't been that big of an issue until that ominous gap in the captain's file where lines started to turn up redacted in dark black ink. And then the file ended with a whole battalion gone… and their pilot shipped off to the hospital. Face only had to see that flicker of pain and fear in his friend's eyes once to vow never to bring the topic up again.
But all that is to say that when Murdock went Ranger Mode that first time, it was mostly overlooked.
The second time it was not.
"Uh… Colonel, we are aaaall outta ammo in this birdie."
Face's chest seized at the words. He and Murdock had been loaned out for a rescue mission (and this was, not so coincidentally, the last time Hannibal let any of his boys be loaned out). And a rescue chopper was practically a sitting duck at the best of times as most of the interior was used up with stretchers and seats to haul out as many wounded men as they could.
"You have armed men on board, don't you, Captain?"Colonel Bedford's voice came back over the comms, sharp and dismissive. "Put some of them to good use and wait for orders!"
A flare of anger cut through the worry gnawing at Face's gut and he was about to respond when Murdock spoke again. The pilot wasn't half as insubordinate as Face would've been, but the lieutenant could hear the strain of irritation and stress in his friend's tone.
"Colonel, most of these guys are busy tryin' to keep their own arms in place let alone takin' up ones with bullets in 'em… though I guess they've kinda got that covered too."
The team they'd come to extract had been pinned down for three days. Most of them did in fact have bullet wounds, in their arms and more. Asking them to hold position under fire was the height of stupidity and Face was grateful as another rough tone came over the comms before he could get himself court martialled for cussing out a superior officer.
"My men are barely standing, Colonel. We're lucky to be aliv-"
"Hold position, Captain Thomas, that's an ord-" Before Bedford could finish, Murdock's voice returned, any hint of humor gone and replaced by a steely bite of anger.
"You have a secondary, don't you, Colonel?"
In the silence, Face finally stepped in.
"Affirmative, Captain." They did have a second chopper. A little ways away, but Bedford and his men could get there easily and Face could too. Murdock needed to get the hell out of there before they needed a rescue mission for their rescue mission. Thankfully, Bedford didn't say a word as Murdock continued.
"Then get to your secondary. I'm gettin' these boys out now."
Face ignored the colonel's angry protests, making his way toward the second pick up point. Murdock's tone said clearly that any further argument from Bedford would be deliberately ignored. Hannibal might have a job of getting them out of any disciplinary action with this one, but Murdock had made the right choice, Face was sure of that.
Right up until the colonel snapped an order to the remaining men to get on that second chopper because it was lifting off in five minutes.
"I've got a mile of town and about a hundred insurgents to get through! I'm gonna need more than five minutes, Colonel!" Face shouted into his comm, ducking behind a doorway as bullets peppered the wall beside him.
And Bedford's voice came back with the stupidest, pettiest tone.
"If you can't run a mile in five minutes then why the hell are you calling yourself a ranger, Lieutenant?"
The momentary silence that followed was filled with furious cursing in Face's mind. A five minute mile on a clear track was impressive. Five minutes through five blocks and five thousand bullets was impossible and Bedford knew it. Still, Face believed Murdock had made the right choice. He had a chopper full of wounded men and not a bullet to his name. Bedford could lift off and still give Face cover to get to the ladder before they left. Face believed that firmly… which was why the sight of the second chopper streaking off to his right just as he reached the edge of town made all fear of court martial vanish from his mind.
"What the hell are you doing, Bedford?" he bellowed into the comm, answered only by silence.
Then he was less sure about Murdock leaving.
Right then, as a line of insurgents came up behind him, their backs to the walls of the remaining buildings, nothing between them and open desert but Face and that last huge sand dune he stood at the base of… then he was pretty sure Murdock should've stayed… if only to swing by and pick him up… just so Face could've witnessed Hannibal's utter destruction of the cowardly colonel first hand.
Instead… it looked like he'd be away from home a little longer than planned….
"Captain, we've got a problem!"
"Little busy up here, Thomas!" Murdock did his best to keep the chopper from tipping too far as he dodged another ground-to-air missile, hoping most of the patients in the back were strapped down firmly. He spared the other captain a quick glance as the man came up and took the copilot's seat.
"Bedford's bugged out! Get on your comm!"
Captain Thomas shoved the headset at him, the one Murdock had abandoned when he'd made the decision to leave and needed to focus on getting out rather than on a stupid colonel's angry whining. Worry churning in his gut, he jammed the headset back on, thankful they'd just (finally) reached the town's edge and were out of range of the worst of the missiles and bullets.
"-dock, what's your position? You out safe?"
Face's voice was strangely calm, speaking carefully and clearly… and with no gunshots in the background.
"What's goin' on, Faceman?" Murdock asked apprehensively. His friend's voice lowered even further, practically muttering into the mic.
"Might need a rescue mission myself when you get back. Last position on the town's west side, by the secondary pickup point."
Something inside him changed at that, and Murdock was about to ask where the hell Bedford was if Face was right where the other chopper should be, but then three things happened one after another, each chipping away another piece of him.
A voice in the background shouted an order in angry arabic.
The reassuring smile he'd tossed Thomas's way vanished.
Face's voice uttered a whispered curse, then called out, "All right! Okay, I'm putting it down."
The mirth that was always quick on his tongue and bright in his eyes died out.
And lastly… The sleek form of the secondary chopper sped into view from his left and Murdock felt his mind clear to a razor edged focus.
"Your exact position, Lieutenant." It wasn't a request and Face must've been able to hear it because he managed a muttered response.
"North west of the belltower, edge of town. Got a dune to my bac-" His comm cut out, replaced by Colonel Bedford's angry voice.
"You are to return to base, Captain Murdock! You are carrying wounded men and I am ordering you to-"
The pilot took a moment to tell the colonel just where he could shove his orders before he slung the headset off again, darting a look at his copilot. Thomas nodded once.
"I know your team, Captain. If you believe you can save him, do it. I'm only sorry we can't help." The man gestured to his own right arm which hung in a bloody sling. His men were similarly wounded, those that were physically capable of holding a weapon were rendered unable due to dehydration and heatstroke. But he could do this.
"You got a gun?" He asked and accepted the handgun Thomas offered him, holding it in his left hand as he swung the chopper around with his right. "Get in the back an' get ready to open the right side door on my signal." Thomas nodded curtly, moving to obey and Murdock added one last order. "Everybody hold onto somethin'. We're goin' back in."
He didn't have much. He really was all out of ammo. But he did have a gun… and one really fast… really sharp… really big weapon.
Face muttered another curse under his breath as he slowly lowered his weapon to the sandy ground, his other hand held up. If he didn't die here (which was a pretty big if), he fully intended to shoot and/or stab Bedford himself. Shoot first, for suggesting Murdock stick around with no ammo and a bird full of wounded in a place swarming with insurgents. Then stab for leaving him behind. That is, if there was anything left of the Colonel after Hannibal got to him… and if there was anything left of Face because the insurgents didn't look happy and it was about twenty to one odds.
Jaw clenched, Face kept his hands up and didn't move an inch when the lead insurgent approached, snatched his radio, and took his weapons. But when the man didn't drag him off to become a prisoner of war but just backed off, laughing at something one of his buddies called out to him? Then Face had to say something.
"Wait- What are you doing?"
The man just laughed at him, turning to his fellows and shouting orders… orders that made the men spread out… and cock their weapons.
This wasn't a 'prisoner of war' situation….
This was an execution.
Face scrambled for a plan, for any way out of this, but he couldn't see one. Murdock was miles away by now - and thank God for that small mercy - Face was weaponless and without any hope of cover, and he was faced with… he took a moment to count and came up with sixteen men, all of whom were targeting him. Part of him wished he had his radio back so he could send some sort of a goodbye, give Murdock something to tell the others when he got back, but he couldn't even figure out what he would've said.
The men had moved up closer, a half circle between him and the town's walls. They were laughing, mocking him with potshots that sent the sand leaping up a few feet in front of him. They were taking their time, enjoying every flinch and curse Face couldn't hold back, and why wouldn't they? It wasn't like he was going anywhere and rescue was clearly not coming.
He closed his eyes, grimacing in anticipation as they raised their guns again at a word from their commander… but instead of the bite of many bullets hitting his skin, he heard a startled shout and looked up. Several men were looking past him, raising their guns, others were running for the walls and for cover.
Face's moment of deep confusion was driven away by the realization that the thrumming behind him was not the blood rushing in his ears and he dropped to the ground just as a massive chopper lurched over the dune, flying so low it's skids nearly touched the ground. Face fell back against the dune's slanted side and watched in open mouthed shock as the chopper that he'd thought was absolutely out of control swung its tail violently like a living thing, lashing out in a wide arc at the ring of insurgents with a tail rotor that could and would sever any limbs that got too close. The ringing clatter of metal on metal suggested a few of the men's rifles had learned that the hard way. The chopper did a full 360 degree turn before tilting slightly toward him, a massive, hovering wall between him and the enemy. Face was vaguely aware of the side door opening but his attention was focused elsewhere.
Face was staring at the pilot, the pilot who had just done that maneuver one-handed, while simultaneously shooting out the window to his left with a handgun. It wasn't until Captain Thomas shouted his name that Face snapped out of it and dove for the door.
They left as quickly as they'd come, gaining altitude and distance faster than the insurgents could recover their wits and salvage their guns. The men in the back were a comical mix of whooping and cheering soldiers and harried, slightly nauseous looking medics, and Face made his way unsteadily through the group of handshakes and smiles to the cockpit. By the time he got there, Murdock was his usual self, beaming at him and welcoming him with a gun passed over to him and the words, "Hiya, Facey! Welcome to Saved-Your-Butt-Again Airlines! You're rackin' up some good travel miles! We oughta get you some of those frequent flier perks!"
Face laughed and joked with him on the way back, but kept a close watch on his friend. While Murdock seemed fine now, the man Face had seen piloting that chopper could've been someone else entirely, all steel strong movements and rage-driven focus. He almost wondered if he'd imagined it, but the image had been so clear… and he got another look, just a brief one, just a split second between landing and rejoining the others where Murdock's gaze had fallen on Bedford and that dangerous anger flared in his eyes again. But while Bedford was spared the Captain's wrath… the General was not so merciful. Morrison gave the man such a dressing down that Face heard he'd been sent back to the states with the threat of dishonorable discharge and a jail sentence hovering low over his head. But secretly, they all knew it had been Hannibal's rage that had sent Bedford scurrying from the debriefing with his tail tucked and his life flashing before his eyes.
And while this was the first time Face had noticed it, it wasn't the last time his best friend's Ranger Mode saved his life.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This may be the last fic I post here. FFN is terribly complicated to post while AO3 is beautifully streamlined. You can find me over there under the same username ScholarforChrist!