Chapter Warnings: MAJOR violence/gore, MAJOR feels, vomit, death/dead bodies, minor language

"I'd do everything so differently, but I can't turn back the time. There's no shelter from this storm inside of me. There's no way out of this dark place, no hope… no future." No Way Out (Phil Collins/Brother Bear)

That left Face to skip ahead through hours of stillness and silence until Murdock stirred again. The battered pilot only had enough time to open his eyes and let out a soft sigh before the whole group was back and in place. Hayes stood over Murdock and jerked his head at the clock in the corner.

"Just one hour to go, pal, and we thought we'd bring back a crowd favorite."

Murdock closed his eyes, ignoring both men. Ray scooped up the tattered bit of cloth that had been wrapped around Murdock's leg before the pins and settled himself beside the pilot.

"We'd better wrap this up first, don't you think, Hayes?" The bigger man nodded and Ray began to re-wrap the wound in the already blood stiffened cloth. He wasn't gentle about it either, tightening the knot suddenly and sharply, which caused Murdock's eyes to flash open as he drew in a choked breath. Ray finished roughly and wiped his bloody hands on Murdock's faded blue shirt before standing. Hayes took his place, crouching over his prey like a vulture and pulling Murdock's hands up to the pilot's bruise-darkened throat.

"You're going to want these up here." He gave the bloody hands one last shove, meeting Murdock's tired gaze and leering down at him. "Just a friendly tip." He rose and surveyed his victim for a moment and Face held his breath, hoping against hope that the 'crowd favorite' wasn't the walking because that had left a dotted ring of blood around the room and each labored step had felt like a kick to Face's gut.

But Hayes didn't order Murdock to follow the trail of blood.

Instead, he seemed to take it upon himself to ensure the pilot never walked again.

Again and again he drove his boot into Murdock's leg, having Ray haul his limp victim upright so he could drive his fist into the thin chest with brutal force. Murdock's hands stayed at his throat the whole time, sometimes cutting off cries, other times just hovering there with trembling fingers as he waited for the next blow to fall. At five till, Brenner came in and stood to one side, just watching impassively and checking his watch which Face found odd since there was a clock counting down right behind him. But Face couldn't care less what the psychopathic freak was doing because with only minutes left, Ray had just thrown Murdock on the ground and stomped on his hurt leg, driving his entire weight down on the bloody limb and smiling sickly as Murdock's lungs strained to let out a scream past his constricting fingers.

Somehow, by some miracle, he was able to keep quiet but with just one minute till five and the seconds ticking away steadily, Hayes wasn't about to end things easily. At a jerk from his pal's head, Ray dragged the pilot upright, holding him with his elbows hooked under the thin man's arms while Hayes positioned himself in front of the pair.

"Time's up, freak," Hayes curled his scuffed fingers into another hard-knuckled fist. "Now let's hear you scream." The blow came fast and hard, striking Murdock's ribs with a dull, sickening crack. About the same time, Ray started counting down, eyes on the clock.

"Five…"

Murdock's eyes widened at the blow, his whole body going rigid.

"Four…"

He choked, breaths stopping in shock at the sudden agony.

"Three…"

Face saw the muscles in the captain's chest and neck tense.

"Two…"

Blood spilled down Murdock's chin from where his teeth were dug into his lip.

"One."

The alarm went off, beeping loud and sharp five times but the sound was almost entirely drowned out by Murdock who let out a cry that sounded like death and tore through the air with such unexpected violence that Face nearly cried out himself. The sound was short but intense and when it faded, Murdock was left to fall forward, just barely catching himself on his bound hands before he slumped onto his side. For a while, the room was utterly silent save Murdock's ragged breathing and Face's mind felt empty with shock, his eyes glued to the image of his friend on the ground, eyes shut tightly, every breath ending with a low groan.

He'd done it. The twenty-four hours were up and Murdock had stayed silent the whole time. That meant Brenner had to let the fake team go… and yet something was wrong. Brenner was motionless, his back to the camera, hands clasped behind his back and fingers tapping impatiently.

"Do it." Brenner's order was given like he was giving Hayes directions to the nearest shop. Right turn, slow down, take a left up here, do it. So casual and unfeeling that for a moment, Face didn't really register the meaning of the words.

But then Hayes was marching over to the clock, looking down at it and shaking his head in false sympathy.

"Three minutes left… that's too bad for you."

Face's eyes leapt to the timestamp in the corner of the screen which showed plainly that the time was five o'clock exactly. The clock in the room had been set wrong, on purpose if the look of sick satisfaction on the guards' faces meant anything. Murdock had made it twenty-four hours, and Face would have to revisit that thought later to process the amazement and pain it caused in his heart… but with the clock in the room reading 4:57, Murdock had no way of knowing that he'd won. No way of knowing that his captors were lying.

Before Face could articulate the horror that was making his heart pound, his attention was drawn by Murdock as he struggled to get up. The pilot watched Brenner with wide, terrified eyes as the doctor moved to the back wall away from the prisoners. At a snap of his boss's fingers, Hayes pulled a combat knife from his boot and cut the ties holding the three men.

"On your knees, gentlemen." Brenner's words caused a flurry of movement as the men, who'd obviously not been in on this part of the plan, panicked and started to fight. It was apparent by the speed with which the well-muscled guards subdued them that none of the three decoys had any sort of combat experience. They were on their knees and wincing from various bruises in a matter of seconds.

Murdock had managed to get upright but he could do little more than sit back on his good leg, breathing hard as Hayes ordered the men to put their hands on their heads. When Murdock finally spoke, his voice was rough and hoarse and laced with such panic the words broke.

"H-Hey. Hey!" All eyes turned to the pilot. "I did what… what you wanted. Twe-Twenty-four hours. Now you have t-t'let them go." The scar-faced Hayes chuckled and shook his head, pulling his gun and checking the clip as he spoke.

"The doc said we'd be done at five o'clock… never said that was what the alarm was set for." Murdock was shifting, trying to stand but stopping every time with a grimace of pain. Ray took up a position beside Murdock, presumably to keep him from interfering, while Hayes moved to stand behind the prisoners, gun at the ready.

"Please… please don't-"

A sharp metallic click sounded as the gun was cocked.

"I-I'll do anyth-thin'- I'll tell you anythin'! Anythin' y-you want!"

Hayes looked to Brenner while Ray pulled Murdock aside, out of the line of fire.

"I'll do it again! I'll d- I'll do it all again! Please!" Brenner beckoned Hayes closer and spoke to him quietly. Murdock turned instead to the men he thought were his team, voice so full of terror that it made Face's heart ache. "H-Hannibal! Do somethin'!" The men didn't respond, probably didn't even know which one of them was supposed to be Hannibal… but Brenner turned to his victim and Murdock's eyes flashed back to him, fixing a pleading, frantic look on the doctor's dead eyes.

"Please!"

"The Devil issued you a challenge, Mister Murdock… and you accepted." Brenner ignored the shaky, sobbing breath his captive took in at the words, finishing with cold satisfaction: "Did you really think you were strong enough to succeed?"

Face wished then that he had killed Brenner.

Wished that he'd defied Hannibal's orders, done away with the plan and shot the devil-doctor in the head himself. Or even better, beaten the life out of him with his bare hands, because the aching sound that escaped Murdock's throat was laden with a terrible mixture of shock… and guilt. And Face hated the man who'd drawn it from him, hated the man who'd dared suggest his brother was weak, dared to plant that evil seed in the pilot's mind that Face could already see growing into a clinging, thorny vine of self-loathing.

Face hated Brenner enough to kill the man, in any way he could… but it was too horribly, tragically late.

The three shots were fired in rapid succession, loud and heart-stoppingly jarring, but it was Murdock's anguished cry that drew the groaned curse from Face's lips. Blood spattered across the room, across the guards' white uniforms, across Murdock's face and everything was eerily silent as the three prisoners fell forward. Hayes turned to leave, and Murdock stared… just stared, with his eyes wide, droplets of blood slipping down his cheek, and his mouth slightly open in shock. Face watched with his heart wrenching in his chest, fighting between violent rage and sympathetic grief as the look on his friend's face changed from shock, to pain, to a deadly fury that wiped every trace of exhaustion and fear from his features.

In an instant, Murdock had snatched a second combat knife from Ray's boot and lurched to his feet, whirling and plunging the blade into its owner's neck. Ray dropped like a stone, dead mere seconds after hitting the floor, and Murdock wasted no time moving for the others, his eyes on the suddenly frightened face of his Devil. There was a mad scramble for the door as Murdock switched his grip from handle to blade and arced his arms back. The blade shot through the air… only to stick in the seam between the door and the wall as the panel closed. Just seconds from embedding itself in Brenner's chest.

Seeing the door shut drew a furious, frustrated cry from Murdock's lips and he fell to his knees, just a foot or so from the body of the big black man who wasn't Bosco but had pretended to be.

Then, the captain's shoulders slumped and he took on the weary, brow-beaten posture of a soldier between shots, checking the dead for survivors. He reached over toward the black man and pressed his fingers to the dark, bloodied neck. There was no pulse. There couldn't be, not with the hole in the man's head, but Murdock checked anyway and hung his head when he found none.

Face could feel the hatred in his heart flare violently… then slowly begin to fade. There was only so much one could do to express anger. Teeth could only be clenched and grit so much and swearing had long since lost its potency in the face of such horrors. He could rage and bluster and hit things but it wouldn't change what had happened and it wouldn't help Murdock now. But then, the lump in his throat wouldn't help either… and yet he couldn't make it go away. Anger grew weary and gave way to a deep and terrible sorrow that Face tried to hold back with a fist pressed to his lips. The ache in his throat and the sting in his eyes ignored his every effort.

The lighting in the padded room lowered to a shadowed twilight, probably at Brenner's orders, to fuel the darkness in his prisoner's mind. A few slow, pained movements brought Murdock to the silver-haired man and he repeated the gesture, checking for a pulse and letting out a soft whimper when the glassy eyes claimed he was dead and were proven right by the still heart.

Face saw it before Murdock did.

A slight movement, just the barest of breaths from the third and final wounded.

Face hadn't thought it could get any worse than this… but it had… and Murdock was rushing to the young man's side, panting and wasting no time in pressing both hands to the bleeding chest. Whether through Brenner's instructions or his own sadistic urges, Hayes had fired at the heart instead of the head. Judging by the blood at the man's mouth, the bullet had to have hit his lung too, not something that could be handled just by applying pressure but Murdock tried anyway and struggled to speak past the roughness and panic in his voice.

"Face?" His own name tore a gasped sob from Face's lips.

"No... No, Murdock, it's not me, come on… you gotta see that," Face pleaded but the past didn't listen.

"F-Face, open your eyes. Come on, look at me!" The wounded man shifted and groaned, eyelids fluttering. He must've tried to say something because blood slipped from his mouth and Murdock shushed him, panting as the pressure he applied to the other man's chest hurt his own. "No, d-don't try an' talk jus'... jus' yet." The pilot's shaggy head turned and he glanced back at the bodies behind him before looking down at the youthful face. When he spoke, his voice was fractured but firm, trying to comfort and answer the question Face would've asked first.

"H-Hannibal an' Bos-sco are… they're okay. They're jus'… findin' us a way out."

A lie. A bold faced, underlined, italicized lie and yet it was painfully touching. Murdock was encouraging and comforting and trying hard not to sound scared out of his mind, but Face could hear it. He could hear it in the strained and fragile tone… see it in the tremors running through his body, in the creased brow and wild eyes. Hell, he could almost feel it in the way the pilot's head ducked and his breaths shuddered, fighting for composure.

"They're findin' a w-way out. So you s-stay awake, you hear me? Keep yer eyes op-pen or I'll t-tell yer next girlfriend you… you had a sex change operation or s-somethin'." Murdock let out a short, almost hysterical laugh. Blood was covering his hands now. Spreading across the floor from all four bodies… painting the scene Face had glimpsed in the security room.

Whispered curses weren't enough and Face had moved on to leaning one elbow on the arm of the chair and covering his mouth with that hand in a futile attempt to maintain his composure. But the young man was trying to speak again and Murdock's breaths were growing increasingly sharp from both physical and emotional pain. He had to know the man was dying; no soldier could look at a wound like that and not know. If a med team was there right now, carrying him off to an ambulance, then he might have a chance, but locked in this cell? There wasn't any hope.

"Stop it! S-Stop tryin' to talk, please!" Murdock cut him off and Face could hear the anguish in his friend's voice too clearly. Murdock was trying to forestall a goodbye, avoiding it and denying it as if doing so would force the truth to change. The pilot turned, scrubbing the side of his face against his shoulder, sniffling softly and the sound made the lump in Face's throat grow painful. "You are… are one s-stubborn-assed little brother, you know that? But… but you gotta let me take care of this one, okay?" The man coughed, spattering blood and opened his mouth to speak but Murdock snapped, almost shouting at the wounded man. "What, Temp? Wh-What's so im-important that you've got t's-say it now? What?"

The man's eyes fluttered open halfway and his lips moved mutely. Murdock leaned down, uttering a breathless, "What?" and the younger man tried again, this time managing a weak whisper. Face had to rewind and turn up the volume all the way to hear it. The increased volume caused Murdock's rough breaths, every whimper and gasp he'd muffled and Face had missed being broadcast over a loudspeaker in his ears and underneath it all, the soft voice of the wounded man.

"M's… sorry."

Face felt a tear escape down his cheek and wiped it away, returning the volume to normal, too horribly focused on the screen to even remember that he could shut it off. Murdock straightened slowly, shaking his head and Face could hear the tears in his voice.

"No… No, y-you're not gonna d-…" Another aching sound, half-sob, half-whimper. "You're gonna be okay, Facey. Jus'… jus give Hannibal an'… an' B.A. a chance t'get us out, o-okay? … Face?" The bloody chest had gone still. "Face!" Face watched with agony clawing at his heart as Murdock pumped the still heart three times then moved to push a breath past the slack lips. Seconds later, he was coughing out the mouthful of blood he'd received in return and trying again with the same result only this time, it sent his battered body into spasms of dry heaves, bringing up only more blood and bile. When it finally stopped, Murdock sat back and began to look around the small room frantically. Blood stained his chin and lips red like he was in some gory vampire movie and his hands were shaking badly as sticky redness dripped from his fingertips and slid down his arms, coating the dark ties that still bound his wrists.

"H-Help me!" The first shout was harsh and unexpected, making Face jump in his seat. Murdock coughed, wiped his bloody lips on his sleeve and called again. "Help me, please!" He was staring around the room like there were people all around, just watching him and ignoring the bodies and blood. Finally his eyes landed on the camera and Face realized what he was doing. Murdock was begging Brenner for help. He knew he couldn't save the man on his own and he thought there was still time for Brenner to call an ambulance. Face knew it was too late, too damnably late, but Murdock kept shouting, kept begging and the words were cutting Face's heart to shreds.

"Please, save him! I'll do anything! I'll tell you anything! Please! … Please…" The last word fell from Murdock's lips, broken and hopeless. His eyes dropped back to the body in front of him as his hands moved to clutch at his hair, ignoring the blood that stained his light-brown locks a deep red. He was breathing in shuddering gasps and rocking softly, fingers twisted in bloody hair and his face a mask of misery. Each breath froze for a moment in his throat as he fought against the sobs.

After a few minutes, he gave in. The rocking stilled as he leaned forward, pressing his face against the blood-soaked chest and clinging to the sopping shirt, shoulders trembling with each unsteady breath.

He stayed like that for a long while, just lying there and shaking.

Then came the sound…

A soft, keening sound that slipped between Face's ribs like the sharpest of knives, tearing at his heart and drawing tears instead of blood. The keening grew until it became a grief-stricken howl, digging the knife in Face's ribs deeper and making his own body shake with sobs. And Murdock was crying. The soldier, the pilot, the friend Face had known for more than ten years had never once cried… not like this… not in front of his teammates anyway, and now he was weeping, choking on anguished sobs and trying to burrow closer to the dead man's chest, ignoring or not noticing the blood that spread across his own clothes and body. His voice was hoarse, ragged, and choked past the bruises and the pain, a rough edge to his sobs that spoke of a wild, devastating sort of grief. The sort you didn't come back from… the kind of grief that kills.

Face wasn't sure how long it went on before Murdock's cries faded to soft, trembling whimpers. Slowly, shakily, the pilot sat up, blood covering his face and head. It slipped down his forehead and into his eyes, making him blink as he stared down at the motionless body. When he finally moved, it was to crawl over to 'Hannibal's' side. Body still shivering with tears, Murdock gently closed the sightless eyes, and then moved to the man's head, grasping the back of the man's shirt in both bound hands. Between gasps of pain, he pulled the body over next to the young man and collapsed beside them for a moment to catch his breath.

Murdock's blood matted head bobbed slightly, starting to droop forward as heavy tears pulled him down. It took obvious effort to swallow them back, raise his head and turn to the third body, ignoring Ray's motionless form against the wall. Murdock closed the fake Bosco's dark eyes with care and tried to pull the big man over with the others but every effort drew agonized gasps as the strain pulled on his chest and leg. For several long minutes he tried, but only managed to move the black man's body a few inches as whatever strength adrenaline had given him ran out. Finally, he gave up, collapsing by the dark shoulders and pressing his forehead to the bloody mess that was the other man's brow. Face could only just make out the choked words Murdock mumbled past a grief-torn throat.

"I'm s-sorry, Bos-sco… m'so s-sorry." Thin shoulders shook harder as grief threatened another wave but Murdock swallowed and slipped back over to the other two. Slowly and gingerly, he settled himself on his side between the cooling bodies with his back to the older man's side and his face to the younger's. With quaking hands, he pulled their arms around him, the young man's hand resting against the pilot's back and the older man's clutched between bound and bloody palms and pulled close to the thin chest. Then, Murdock rested his head on their arms and hid his face in the young man's side before giving in to the snuffling, endless tears. The image of Murdock trying to draw meager comfort from the dead… from his dead family, blurred in Face's vision but he didn't care. His cheeks were already wet and his throat hurt from his efforts to silence his own wracking sobs.

Grief pushed another cry past Murdock's hoarse throat, the sound muffled against the dead man's side and it was more than Face could take. He didn't even bother to shut off the video, stumbling to the door of the van and out into the now too-cold night. He only just made it to the grass beyond the curb before a wave of nausea overtook him.

A moment later, he was sitting, trembling beside a patch of his own vomit with his head in his hands and Murdock's heartbroken cries echoing through his mind. He tried to breathe, to push down the agony in his heart and pull himself together for the drive back… but he couldn't. The memory of those soft sobs - breathed against the dead man's side in a mirror image of the way he'd held Murdock before, held him after nightmares left the pilot trembling and child-like in the still shadows of the night - drew similarly miserable sounds from his own throat and Face gave in. He sat there on the curb, crying harder than he ever had because… what they'd done to him.

They hadn't killed him. They hadn't even broken him, not in the way Face expected. Murdock hadn't said a word about the location of the team, about their plans or even about their completed missions which he could've easily spoken about without causing any danger to the others. He hadn't broken… and yet he'd been broken. Brenner had cut him to pieces, lied to him and left him to mourn what he thought was his family in a pool of their blood. The sick bastard had torn his heart out, shattered his spirit and now… now Face wasn't sure it could be repaired. This would be enough to drive any sane person mad with grief and horror. The thought of what it could do to an already addled mind was gut-wrenching and rang of permanent, irreparable damage and loss.

Murdock had lost them… and now they might be losing him.

It took every ounce of Face's strength to stand up, dry his eyes on his sleeve and go back to the van. The video had ended, the screen black save for the timestamp which had stopped only a minute or so after Face had left. It didn't explain how Murdock came to leave his cell or how he'd wound up lying on his bed in his room. According to the time, Face had found him a little over an hour after the tape stopped but there was no way of knowing what had happened in between without Murdock telling them himself.

Face shut the van door and got into the front, just sitting at the wheel for a long while before he thought he was able to drive safely. He could still taste the tears at the back of his throat as he pulled out but he set his focus forwards. He had to get back to the hotel. Even if they couldn't get Murdock back completely, Face was determined not to leave him alone. He'd do anything to ease the pain he'd heard in those desperate, heartbroken cries. He'd stay by his brother's side… for the rest of his life if that was what he needed.

Author's Note: I highly encourage you to listen to both versions of the selected song at the top. It was darn hard to pick from the lyrics when nearly the entire song fits the situation, lol.