Chapter Warnings: Vomiting (non graphic), mild language, descriptions of anxiety

"But there's always scars, when you fall that far." Get Back Up (TobyMac)

Murdock slept off and on with Face, Hannibal and B.A. all taking turns watching over him. For Face, it was always an immense relief to see his friend wake up now and then, each time with a smile on his face and happiness in his voice when he woke to them and not the hospital. The first couple times they'd had to repeat their actions, prove to him again that they were real. Each time he believed them quicker.

The fever didn't show itself until the next day. It started with an ache which grew to a chill, drawing weary moans from the pilot who was perpetually either too hot or too cold. Soon though, the mumbled complaints died down and the fever changed from fidgeting and aching to a heavy heat that weighed almost visibly on Murdock's still-thin form, pulling him down into a deep, troubled sleep.

They kept a bowl of cool water on the table by the bed and regularly changed out the damp cloths that cooled Murdock's brow and chest, going on cold and coming off warm from his body's heat. The nausea came without warning, catching the pilot during Hannibal's watch. Murdock's eyes had opened slowly, a grimace spreading across his face and Hannibal had only a few seconds to recognize the soft cough and hitched breaths as heralds of an upset stomach before Murdock's whole torso tensed. Hannibal was forced to dump the water from the bowl in order to catch, just in time, what little Murdock was able to bring up.

Face had heard the scramble and splash of the water and had rushed to check on them only to slip on the suddenly wet hardwood floor, landing with a thump and a splatter on the ground.

Hannibal had shown his sympathy by sending Face to get a mop.

Murdock had shown his support by throwing up again.

After that, they took to staying with him in pairs, one to hold him upright when the nausea hit and the other to handle the plastic bucket the sisters provided. Every bit of water they could get him to drink came right back within the hour and they were forced to continue the IV of fluids or risk dangerous dehydration. The sisters added antibiotics that would fight the infection and fever but it still took time.

It was a slow, exhausting, and stressful time. Hours crawled by with Murdock drifting between sleep and semi-lucid waking. It wasn't until two days after the start of the fever that Murdock's condition changed, but not in the way they'd expected. As his body fought off the fever, his mind moved from a deep healing sleep to dreams and inevitably, nightmares.

It started slowly, with Murdock mumbling and twitching in his sleep. But he was still too very exhausted to be roused so all they could do was hold his hand and talk to him in the hopes that some of it would get through. Then mumbled words changed to hoarse cries and desperate tears as Murdock relived the horrors he'd endured. Face tried his best to comfort his friend in those moments but nothing seemed to help. He was still too weak to fight them but Face knew Murdock thought their comforting touches were Brenner or the guards and that every touch meant pain and loss.

Hannibal was the one who found the solution to Murdock's nightmares. The colonel sat himself behind the captain on the bed, letting Murdock lean back against him and turning the pilot's head so that his ear was pressed to Hannibal's chest right over his heart. The war hardened colonel holding the young pilot, like a father lulling a child to sleep, was an image that both Face and Bosco secretly treasured. And it was the sound of that steady, strong heart that warded off the nightmares, and when a few slipped past, manifesting themselves with groans and mumbled song lyrics, Hannibal, Face and Bosco would sing along. Sometimes they didn't know the words or didn't recognize them as Murdock mumbled the lyrics in broken Spanish but they did their best and their voices seemed to soothe the worst of the nightmares.

Time passed slowly and wearily, drawing an early morning in faded blue tones. Bosco was seated by the bed, keeping watch. It was supposed to be his and the boss's turn to monitor their ill friend, but when B.A. had come in, Face had been clocked out already, still seated with his back to the headboard and Murdock similarly slumped in his arms. B.A. had decided to leave them be rather than try to extract the conman from his place and Hannibal had stepped out for the moment to stretch his legs.

It was still early, twilight blue fading slowly to the clear light of day when Murdock stirred. The pilot took in a deeper breath, huffing it back out and shifting restlessly. Face was too exhausted to notice, but Bosco's heart wrenched at the next breath their friend took in, shuddering and followed by a short groan that they'd come to realize meant tears, maybe only in his dream, but the sound was heartbreaking all the same. Next came a few words, mumbled and slurred with sleep, unintelligible apart from the fact that they sounded like Spanish, probably song lyrics. It'd happened before, and Face always seemed to recognize the song, singing along softly, and his voice seemed to soothe the nightmares. Bosco had never sung a word in Spanish in his life. But knowing that the mumbling and shuddering breaths his brother uttered likely meant he was reliving some form of torture, there was no way Bosco could just sit there.

Careful not to wake Face, he reached out and rested a hand on Murdock's arm. And he started humming. Low and quiet. It wasn't something he did often, showing his softer side, but there was a kind of softness their strange family shared, a closeness born from years of complete trust in one another. Soldiers in a unit often had a close bond, but rarely to this degree. Bosco had recognized it the first time Hannibal had acted as father rather than colonel, talking Murdock softly through an episode, providing wise advice to the reckless Face, and even with himself, when B.A. was fed up with the others' antics or feeling low, the colonel always there just to be nearby, or redirecting the younger men's energy to another task so B.A. could get some peace.

But it was more than just Hannibal's guidance and strength. It was just what happened when you'd been there for each other's worst moments, moments when fear couldn't be masked and honesty became raw and deep. It was a softness that grew from respect, the only danger in letting it show being the light teasing it might inspire and even that was so small a thing, it was worth the risk.

And it was this softness, this safety with one another that prompted Bosco's humming. It wasn't really a conscious decision. They'd tried to sing along or somehow connect with the pilot when he'd mumbled random lyrics in his dreams. This time, B.A. just wanted to find that connection, let Murdock know he wasn't alone, and it was worth the slow smile spreading across Face's lips, even if the bigger man did feel a twinge of irritation at it. And on top of that twinge, Bosco realized the song had been 'You are my Sunshine'... one his Mama had sung to him often enough as a child for the tune to stick. Stick and jump out at him just in time to be teased by it apparently and B.A. glared at Face as he lifted his head, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before he looked down.

A small exchange of looks, warning from B.A. and acknowledging and accepting from Face. Not what he'd expected. Neither was the gentle voice who continued the song, Face leaning down to murmur the words against Murdock's wild hair. The one line, 'And I will keep you from all harm' were spoken with a gentle tightening of his arms around the pilot.

As the chorus came back around, he and Bosco shared another look, this one with gentle smiles as they both saw the result of their efforts in the peaceful half-smile that ghosted across the pilot's face.

And Bosco wasn't half as embarrassed as he'd expected when Hannibal slipped back into the room partway through the chorus, the colonel smiling in a soft way that spoke of pride rather than teasing or judgment. In fact, the older man's low rumble joined them as he leaned over to brush the pilot's hair from his eyes along with the next verse's words, 'I'll pick you up when you've fallen down.…' There was a hint of guilt in his expression Bosco thought, the colonel blaming himself, as he always did when his men were injured.

The moment of softness, of gentle care, lasted only as long as it took the sun to rise from blue light to clear rays through the window. Only as long as it took to finish the song. Then Face was grousing about his backache and Hannibal ordering him off to bring them all breakfast. Hannibal settled on the bed, leaning back to get some rest himself as he held the pilot, and that moment of tenderness remained secreted away in the early light of dawn, warming the hearts of all of them.

It wasn't until Hannibal and Face's shift four days after the start of the fever that it finally broke and the sisters declared him free of infection. The news was enough to make Face want to leap for joy if he hadn't been so bone weary. Spending all your time either sitting up with a sick friend or lying in bed thinking about sleep (but not getting much) hadn't exactly upped his energy levels.

Murdock slept through the day and well into the night before waking again. It was Bosco's watch, the others catching a few hours of finally peaceful sleep, when Murdock stirred with a soft sigh. The pilot's brow creased in a restless frown and his hands began to move slowly to his chest, curling over his heart as he grasped at nothing.

Face and Hannibal had filled B.A. in on the important details of Murdock's capture and torture. It had been a rough hour or so of talking and Bosco had been hard pressed to keep from taking out some of his rage towards Brenner on them. Face's insistence that breaking their noses wouldn't help Murdock, and Hannibal's assurances that Brenner and his men would pay for what they'd done was enough to soothe the worst of the sergeant's fury but now he knew why Face had looked so hurt at the sight of their friend's hands held up to his chest like that, clutching at a memory's false fingers.

Bosco reached out from where he sat in a chair beside the bed and took Murdock's wrist. 'To keep the IV line in place' is what he would've told anyone who asked, but the truth of it was that he recognized the look on the other man's face as one of sorrowful pain. The poor fool was hurt enough without thinking they were dead again.

Murdock peered at him from beneath heavy eyelids and the frown on the bruised head deepened briefly before vanishing altogether. A brilliant smile lit up the captain's face and Bosco felt embarrassment turning to frustration in his chest.

"Quit your grinnin', fool. You're gonna pull that IV right out if you keep squirmin' like that an' you need those fluids!" Murdock just chuckled, forcing his eyes open further as his smile faded to a somber thoughtfulness. B.A. glared at that, Murdock was supposed to be recovering and resting, not thinking about things that made his eyes dull like that. "Somethin' wrong, bro?" he more demanded than asked, his tone saying very clearly that he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. Murdock looked up at him, a flicker of fear in his green eyes.

"Jus'… Jus' wonderin'…"

"Yeah?"

"Are… Are they gone?"

Murdock didn't need to explain further for B.A. to understand. He was asking if Brenner and Hayes were dead, if they'd killed them and there was no chance of them coming back. Bosco hesitated. Telling Murdock the men were still alive would likely fuel his fears and Bosco didn't hold that against him. Being afraid was something every soldier felt but none wanted to admit. They never showed it if they could help it but this situation was drastically different. Not too long ago, Murdock had been convinced his family was dead and that it was his fault. Brenner had been able to tear down every barrier Murdock had ever made against pain and fear because the pilot had thought there was no one left, no point in looking strong when there was no one to protect. Murdock was smiling apprehensively now, obviously embarrassed by what he saw as a show of weakness. That, B.A. wouldn't stand for.

"Yeah," Bosco nodded. "The freaks are gone for now." The nervous grin vanished from Murdock's face.

"For now?"

"I ain't gonna lie to you, Murdock… We didn't kill 'em, didn't have time, not with you so hurt." And that was the only reason those two were still alive, the only reason Bosco hadn't stormed in there and killed them himself. Murdock nodded and flashed a quick, fake smile.

"That's okay. I mean I'm… I'm glad you uh… you got me outta there." The pilot's hand was shaking in B.A.'s grasp and the bigger man could see the first hints of panic in the other man's eyes.

"Hey," Bosco snapped, catching Murdock's eye. "You listen up and you listen good, crazy man." He pointed a finger at the pilot's face, keeping Murdock's eyes on his so he'd know B.A. was telling the truth. "You don't ever have t'worry about either of those S.O.B's again, you hear me?"

"But they-"

"Not for long they ain't! Look, Hannibal's got a plan goin' already. He's had Face on his laptop all day messin' with stuff an' you ain't seen the look that old man gets when he talks about this one." Bosco shook his head, remembering the dark fury in his C.O.'s eyes when he'd asked Face to start combing through the government records. Whatever the colonel had planned for Brenner, it wasn't going to be a simple 'leave him for the feds to deal with' sort of punishment. Murdock was frowning again, confused this time but less fearful. Bosco thought for a moment before coming up with a way to describe that look to Murdock. "Look, man, you know how I'm scared of flyin'?"

"Yeah…. Chicken," Murdock added with a teasing glint in his eye. B.A. ignored it this time but added the jibe to his growing list of 'Things Murdock deserves a beating for.'

"Well I'd rather fly upside down in a jet with no engines than be the guy Hannibal's mad at right now." Murdock's eyes widened in surprise as a soft laugh escaped him.

"Upside down?"

"Yeah."

"In a jet?"

"You hard of hearin'?"

"With no engines?" Murdock's smile was growing in direct proportion to the anxiety stirring in B.A.'s chest at the image.

"Shut up, fool!"

Murdock chuckled almost drunkenly and B.A. considered checking the IV bag for alcohol before he remembered it was one of the sisters, not Murdock himself who'd set it up. He shook his head and let go of Murdock's wrist, resting his arm on the side of the bed as the pilot rubbed at his chest with a wince, eyes starting to drift shut again.

"Hey, Murdock?"

"Yeah?" came the sleepy response.

"Even if Hannibal didn't have a plan… I don' doubt you could take that piece of-" Bosco hesitated… then amended his words. They were in a church after all. "- that doctor out before he could even blink." Murdock frowned at that, obviously thinking, 'No, I couldn't. I tried and I failed.' Bosco fought to find the right words again before continuing. "What I mean is, now you know we're okay, you're stronger. He ain't as big an' bad as you thought in there. That was the drugs an' the tricks makin' you think that. If the man himself walked through that door right now, I'd bet you a million bucks you'd knock his teeth out in ten seconds flat. You know why?" A small smile was quirking the pilot's lips and B.A. couldn't help returning it as he pointed at the captain's chest. "Because you're a real soldier, bro."

"I'm a Ranger, baby," came the sleep mumbled response, just as Bosco had expected.

He nudged his friend's arm with one hand to get his drowsy attention before adding, "An' on top a'that, Hannibal made me promise not t'kill Hayes. That means whatever he's got planned, it's worse'n what I can dish out." Murdock's mouth twitched into a sleepy smile but B.A. wanted to be sure Murdock understood that he was safe now. "But… Hannibal didn't tell me not t'take both his legs an' tie 'em up around his head if he even thinks about comin' near you again." He was rewarded for the effort of coming up with such a violently comical image by Murdock's snickering which he unfortunately had to shush as he heard someone walking by outside the door. Didn't want Hannibal knowing he'd riled up the patient… not in the mood the colonel was in right now.

"Thanks, Bosco." B.A. looked back to find Murdock's eyes slipping shut once more as he drifted off. He shook his head softly at the crazy pilot and turned his chair around to face the door, determined to protect his friend from any danger, whether real or imagined.

It was slow going but with the sisters' help, Murdock gradually navigated the pathway to recovery. The team stayed with him, helping the sisters where they could to earn their keep and spending their time recovering themselves from so many nights of restless fear for their friend.

Murdock spent the seemingly endless days reminding his weary, battered body how to eat and sleep. Day after day he forced down what little he could handle, gave in to hours of sleep, and inevitably woke, staring at the wall or the bed opposite his, with a strange feeling churning his gut. He was safe now, he knew that, but something didn't feel right. He would lay there, trying to decipher it as the streetlights winked on outside and the night progressed sleeplessly. It was a twisting, cringing feeling, something deep in his chest that tightened slowly and released just as slowly. A fist seemed to grip him, squeezing his heart into a pounding rhythm and making him feel restless and jumpy. It was a feeling somewhat like the adrenaline high before a mission, but different. This energy had no outlet and no source, it just was, and it was driving him crazy... er.

The feeling only eased when he was with the team but it scared him. He'd thought the fight or flight feeling would leave once he was home again, but it stayed and it kept him on edge. And deep down… he knew why it had stuck around. He was having feelings of tension and fear, panic even, because while he was safe with them… he didn't know if they were safe with him. Brenner was still out there. Bosco had said as much. And Hayes too. Brenner might move on and forget about Murdock himself, but he'd been hell bent on facing off with Hannibal and he wasn't likely to give up that life goal, especially not when Hannibal had just outsmarted the doc by getting his pilot out of that place.

And even if Brenner gave up or moved on, Hayes wouldn't. What they'd gone through in that padded cell had been a battle of wills and Murdock knew a man like Hayes wouldn't take the death of his partner in crime lying down. He'd come for revenge, and he'd kill anyone in his way.

That knowledge was festering in the pilot's weary mind, rankling anxiety in his gut. Even when the sisters reluctantly produced a pair of crutches (when he snuck out of bed again, desperate to relieve the ache in his limbs), and he was able to stay with the team instead of them staying trapped in that little room with him, the feeling stayed. It had him jumping at shadows, seeing their faces, the guards or Brenner, in the homeless they served from the kitchens

He started staying up at night, at first just lying in bed and waiting with jaw and stomach clenched for the feeling to leave him long enough for him to sleep, just a little. But every time it did, he inevitably woke from heart-pounding dreams to find it back in place and worse than before. After two nights of nightmares and panic, he just stayed up. He'd pace or sit on the bunk or by the door and just listen, standing guard, monitoring every soft shuffle of footsteps and every opening and closing door. He only got away with it because his team was also recovering. Face slept like a rock for several days after things turned for the better health-wise, and Bosco and Hannibal had always bunked together. It wasn't easy to sneak out and pace, but managed it, having honed his sneaking skills to near-perfection in the process of countless escape attempts over the years.

But it still didn't help. His appetite was gone, he could hardly stomach the food he was offered but managed a little just to please his friends. The vast majority of his food made its way to the homeless or back to the fridge or pantry when he could manage it. He didn't want the team to worry. This was something he'd been through before (on a smaller scale, sure, but he could handle it). He could do this himself without them fussing over him and losing sleep too. But day after day, he grew more and more exhausted, and he knew it was only a matter of time before one of them found out.

Hannibal watched with steadily growing relief as his boys rested and became more themselves every day. With the use of the crutches, Murdock was able to move about relatively easily on his own and the need to sit with him, prepare meals, and keep watch faded into memory. Face and Murdock were inseparable for those first few weeks, nudging and tussling playfully as if each of them had to make sure the other was really there.

In between caring for their friend and getting rested up, the team took it upon themselves to pay the sisters back for all they'd done by helping out wherever and whenever they could. B.A. fixed their school bus and went on a veritable rampage through the orphanage, fixing a radiator here, a ceiling fan there, and making quite a number of little friends along the way. Hannibal and Face spent most of their time working out a plan to apprehend Brenner, or otherwise volunteering time in the kitchens, prepping food and feeding the homeless every night they could. Murdock would stick to one or another of them. He'd perch on a stool in the kitchen to peel potatoes as the one handed Pirate Tater, help the team hand out meals to the homeless each night, or turn to instructing his K-2nd grade army in just the right ways to stalk and bring down the burly mechanic they already used as a jungle gym

And for Face, it was almost like things were back to normal. He and Murdock joked, laughed, bantered back and forth like they always had, and no one was in danger. But Murdock still looked thin... and the dark circles under his eyes hadn't faded. That was why, when Face discovered Murdock passing off his own food to a homeless man, he was furious. And not just because Murdock wasn't eating, but also because he was trying to hide that fact from the team. You didn't hide injuries or problems from your team. That led to dangerous misinformation and potential disaster… for all of them. And, yeah, Face had tried to tough it out a couple times too and hide something he thought he could deal with but Murdock wasn't dealing with this. He was avoiding it and hiding it, and that was dangerous.

"What the hell are you doing?" Murdock jumped, lucky the man across the counter had a firm grip on the tray of food or it would have been all over the floor. The pilot forced a joking smile on his face and turned awkwardly on his crutches to face his friend.

"I'm helpin', Face... this is a soup kitchen after a- Hey!"

Face cut him off, pulling him aside and lowering his voice only slightly as the sisters and Bosco bustled around them in the kitchen preparing and serving meals.

"How long have you been doing this?" When Murdock didn't answer, Face cursed, brushing a hand through his hair in a way Murdock recognized as the heights of frustration. "You need to eat! You know you need to eat so why-"

Murdock winced, literally and figuratively backed into a corner as Face went on. Sink to one side, spices to the other, no escape route available.

"I'm fine," he managed to get in between his friend's words, but it only served to fuel Face's rant, most of which Murdock guiltily tuned out. He scanned the line of men waiting for their meal on the other side of the counter behind Face, wishing he could blend in like them, just shuffle past and disappear.

One man stood out, looking like he was faking a hunch and had something to hide. Murdock watched him approach the counter as Face moved on to sleep and why Murdock should be getting it. The pilot was about to argue that he was okay, he'd been eating (a little) and getting sleep (barely) and he knew how to take care of himself (usually) but right at that moment, the suspicious man reached the counter and Sister Angelica turned aside for a moment to get him his drink. In that brief span of time in which the sister's eyes were averted, the man glanced up at him from under the edge of his hoodie. Murdock felt his heart skip a beat, then start to hammer as cold eyes met his and a hateful sneer twisted the scarred face.

Hayes.

Time seemed to slow and Murdock watched it with fascination as his choices seemed to flow out in front of him.

Panic, let your shaking legs give out and hide, press into the corner and find safety.

Speak, point him out, warn them before Hayes could pull a gun or a knife or just come over that counter and attack with his bare hands.

But as Hayes sent one final glower at him and moved along the line, blending with the crowd once more, Option Three came into view.

Wait. Be ready. End this.

"Murdock!"

He startled, gaze leaping back to the impatient expression of his friend.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"N-No. M'not," he managed, the need to move aching in his limbs. He cut off the angry retort forming on Face's lips with a mumbled, "I think I need t'lie down."

Face let him go, watched him make his way out of the kitchen and down the back hall to his room, but he didn't follow. Thank the heavens he didn't follow, because Murdock was certain Face would not have approved of his taking the serrated kitchen knife from the counter and tucking it in his jacket before he'd left.

Sitting on the bunk, fingers fiddling with the knife handle, Murdock wondered if he'd been wrong. He hadn't been sleeping… not really. And it wasn't unlike him to see things that weren't there when he was stressed and sleep deprived. Maybe it hadn't been him. Maybe Hayes was miles away, being shipped off to a prison somewhere for failing Lynch or just slithering off into the criminal underbelly of some city where he could thrive like a snake in a bog.

But when footsteps approached his door, they weren't Face's… and when that door opened, it wasn't Bosco or Hannibal.

Flashes of still raw memories rose to the surface, clawing at the pilot's already frayed nerves. Needles, blood, pain, terror, broken bones and broken heart and all of it contained in the disfigured face of his torturer. Murdock lurched to his feet, knife at the ready, but in his rush, he stumbled over the end of one crutch. Hayes was on him immediately. Murdock wasn't sure when he dropped the knife but he heard it clatter on the ground between his own pained grunts as Hayes drove his fist into his chest twice, hard. As he tried to regain his breath, one of the thug's meaty hands took hold of his shirt, and the other rammed into his jaw.

Through the ringing in his ears and the tang of blood in his mouth, Murdock heard the horribly familiar voice snarl above him.

"You aren't gonna get away this time, freak…"

Author's Note: I went back and forth on whether or not to include the You Are My Sunshine scene. In the end, I decided the team had been through enough trauma to have earned a little cheesiness. The version of the song I used is this one (by Hound and Fox) watch?v=dh7LJDHFaqA