Author's Note: I am SO sorry this update has been so long in coming! Every time I thought I was getting close to being able to post, the boys decided they had something else they wanted to talk about, lol. But I finally corralled them into an ending (or rather a scene break) and got the rest of it into decent order I think. That said, it hasn't been sitting on my laptop for almost 3 years, getting occasionally re-read, polished, and finessed like the first 4 chapters, either. So I hope it doesn't disappoint!
Also, there are still at least two scenes to go with this story, so be watching for a 6th chapter! But for now, here's chapter 5...
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One hour passed—then two, then three. During that time Angie did terrible things to her index fingernail, broke at least five pencil tips, and purposefully spilled an entire carafe of Italian dark roast when an orderly threatened to perform a bed check on Room 104. As distractions went, it was quite effective.
Of course now she had no coffee.
She'd been prepared to break the rules for these boys, but sentencing herself to a night without caffeine was taking it to a whole new level. Had she known this is where it was all going to lead she would've told that wily priest and his doe-eyed lad to find someone else to do their dirty work.
Muffled sounds of laughter drifted down the hall, and Angie sighed. It was coming from Room 104. Again. Just like it had moments before she'd been forced to sacrifice her liquid sanity. At least this time the hallway was empty.
It made the laugher sound twice as beautiful.
With another sigh, Angie broke the tip of her pencil just for the sheer satisfaction of hearing it snap and then tossed it aside. What was one night without coffee anyway?
Especially when that one night was almost over.
The thought should have been a relief. In less than forty minutes, her blood pressure could stop spiking every time someone walked down the hall or a noise came from Room 104. But instead all she felt was a strange kind of heaviness.
She'd been hoping against hope that her direct line would ring. That the call would come through any minute saying Alvin was ready to leave—and Angie had been spared the task of evicting him.
But her line hadn't rung.
Twisting her wrist, Angie rechecked her watch. Less than half an hour before day shift personnel began arriving. They were out of time.
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Murdock couldn't remember what had started them laughing this time. But it was hilarious, in that perfect way only sleep deprivation and the company of your best friend could make things. Faceman kept leaning close and making shushing noises, but he was laughing, too—which just made everything even funnier.
Murdock's sides were aching and his vision warped with tears, by the time Face shook out a blanket and threw it over both their heads. An inspired act of desperation if Murdock did say so himself. With a few comic books and a snack box it would be perfect in here. He tried to say as much, but all that came out was a series of strangled half-words.
Like always, though, Face seemed to understand. With a flourish, he produced a flashlight and a handful of Baffle fudge bars.
Murdock gasped.
Grin turning positively smug, Face fanned out the treats in his hand. "If you want one, you're going to have to stop laughing."
The taunt was whispered in a sing-song voice. Blackmail wrapped in silk and velvet, with cherries, whipped cream, and happy sprinkles on top. Many an unwitting mark had folded under that voice.
Murdock, however, was a different story. No happy sprinkles were going to get him. He could fold on his own completely witting terms, thank you very much.
Sitting bolt upright, he straightened his jacket, and assumed Solemn Expression Number 7. He'd had great luck with Number 7. Last time he'd used it, Angie had brought him three bags of Jelly Beans. Of course, he hadn't had a blanket on his head then.
Or static electricity tickling his scalp.
Or tufts of his own hair dancing by his left eye.
Focus glazing out, Murdock upped the ante to Solemn Expression Number 9—then puckered up and blew at the hair trying to rumba with his pupil.
Faceman twisted away, burying his face against his own shoulder, and began to cackle.
"If you want one of these you're going to have to stop laughing," Murdock crooned, snatching away all of the Baffle bars. He stuffed them in his pockets and jacket sleeves for safe keeping, then leaned back with an air of nonchalance. "Chocolate? What chocolate? I don't see any chocolate. Do you see any chocolate?"
Unfortunately, Face did, because one of the bars chose that moment to start a slow, oozing slide out of Murdock's cuff. And honestly if the conman kept laughing like that he was going to break something. Like his ribs. Or their tent.
Pursing his lips, Murdock slapped at the finger pointing his way and grabbed up the wayward bar. There was only one thing left to do: eat the evidence.
By the time he'd moaned his way through the first few bites of jelly-chocolate weirdness, Face seemed to have himself back under control. Maybe too much so. He sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees, watching Murdock with a soft expression. It was an unguarded moment. One that left Face looking both far too young and far too old all at the same time.
Suddenly, the fudge in Murdock's mouth didn't taste so good. He tried to swallow, but it stuck in his throat. Fiddling with the candy wrapper, he found himself wishing like everything Faceman had thought to bring some milk.
"Murdock?"
The name was shaded with concern, but Murdock waved it off—or tried to. Gulping, he forced the sticky lump of chocolate the rest of the way down, and did his best to smile. It didn't work.
"Hey, what's wrong?"
Murdock shrugged. "Nothin'. You just... look kinda sad."
Face's eyes widened for a split second, before he dropped his gaze away.
The silence that followed told Murdock more than anything Face might have said out loud. It also acted as a harsh pull back to reality. A reminder of all the things he'd managed to forget for the past few hours.
But the magical space they'd carved out for themselves was about to disappear. Even without Murdock's misstep, he knew their time together was almost gone. He'd tried to ignore it; but their blanket-tent could only block out so much. Already he could see a faint tinge of daylight on the fabric. Any minute now, Angie would be coming to take Face away.
Murdock swallowed again, shoving the thought away. Maybe reality was coming at them faster than he wanted—but it wasn't there yet. Not completely. Not if he could help it.
Struck by a sudden inspiration, Murdock held out his partially eaten Baffle bar. "Want some of my fudge?"
With a half-smile, Face took the bar. He gave the chewed on part a brief, dubious look, but took a bite anyway. "Thanks, Murdock."
"Anytime, muchacho. It's a scientific fact that chocolate makes everything better."
The half-smile grew a little.
"See? It's workin' already." Grinning, Murdock pulled one of the other bars from his waistband and began peeling its wrapper like a banana.
Face shook his head, but his smile—his real smile—came back.
They ate quietly, Murdock content to let the chocolate work its wonders. But once the bars had been reduced to little more than smeared remains, he gave Face a nudge. "Button for your thoughts?"
The flashlight beam exaggerated Face's expression, making it look comically confused. "A button?"
"I'd offer you a penny, but I don't have any change."
Face huffed, that soft but genuine smile making a reappearance. "I've missed you, you know that?"
"Even though I don't have any change?"
"Hey, you're talking to the guy who tracked down sixty-eight cents in American pennies in the middle of Vietnam on a bet. Trust me, if we need any change, I can find enough for both of us."
We. Us. As words went, they were two of the simplest in the English language—and two of the most powerful. They made Murdock feel found in a way he hadn't in ages. Perhaps it was weird to think of something like that as a feeling. But when you knew what it was to be lost in your own mind, being found became something special; a tangible sensation all its own. Like seeing a light in the dark, shining just for you. Or finding a blanket tucked all around you when you woke. It was the promise that you were never alone, even when the rest of the world seemed intent on turning itself inside out.
"Um, Murdock?"
"Yeah, Face?"
"I know we talked about it before, but... are you sure you want to stay here?"
Murdock looked down, hands twisting in his lap. Truthfully, the answer was 'no'. He didn't want to stay here. But after hearing Face lay out all of their escape options earlier that night, he'd realized something important: Face was here on his own. As in I have no back-up, the Team doesn't know where I am or what I'm doing.
Murdock hadn't needed to ask why.
"Listen, I know I said we were squatting in an abandoned warehouse right now, but it's not as bad as it sounds, really. There's plenty of space, and I've scrounged us all the modern amenities. We've got running water and real beds, too. The sheets aren't the best, I admit, but I've got a line on a shipment of Egyptian cotton that's just—"
"Face, Face!" Murdock laughed, even as his heart broke a little. "I didn't say no because of the sheets."
"Then why? It can't be because of the company." There was a forced sound to the comment, though, that said maybe Face wasn't as certain of that as he wanted to pretend. The wary side glances he kept throwing Murdock confirmed as much. "I mean, I know we're convicted felons right now, but—"
"No, no. That's not— Faceman, you know I'd pick you guys over anybody. It's just..."
"Just what?"
With a sigh, Murdock stared at his friend. They both knew why—one of them just wasn't willing to admit it. "Tell me Hannibal knows you're here and is on board with this."
The change was almost imperceptible. Murdock doubted anyone but him or perhaps the Colonel would've spotted it. But it was there all the same: the faintly shuttered expression, the tick in his jaw.
"Okay," Face said. "Hannibal knows I'm here and is on board with this. Now what?"
It was a lie. Every word. And if it wouldn't have wrecked their tent, Murdock would've dived across the space between them and wrapped his friend up in another bear hug.
Something of his thoughts must've shown on his face. Either that or they simply leaked out of his ears and popped up like a thought bubble above his head, because within seconds Face threw up his hands.
"Fine! So Hannibal doesn't I'm here, so what? It's not what you think. He didn't understand how things were, and he was just afraid—"
"I know what he was afraid of, Facey," Murdock whispered. He received a sharp look for his trouble, but the flare of anger was brief.
"Yeah, well, he was wrong," Face snapped. "About both of us."
Both of us? Murdock's stomach tightened. "What'd you mean 'both of us'?"
"Look, it doesn't matter, okay? He was wrong—you're fine, I'm fine. So come back with me. Please? I don't... I don't want to leave you here."
It was a plea and a confession all rolled into one. Combined with the raw look in Face's eyes, it was almost more than Murdock could stand. That hugging urge came back stronger than ever.
"Please," Face said again. "You don't belong here, Murdock."
Attention returning to his own hands, Murdock picked at the laces of his sneakers. "I'm not so sure about that, Faceman." And, truthfully, he wasn't—not anymore. Not after talking to Face and listening to everything he wasn't saying. Maybe Murdock didn't strictly need to be here in a psychiatric ward, but he didn't need to be out there on the run with the guys either. Any doubts he might have been nurturing on that score had well and truly vanished the moment Face let that 'both of us' comment slip.
Right now, out there, Murdock would be a liability. A potential red flag; a weak link that needed to be protected and kept hidden. But if he stayed here, there was just a chance he could make a difference. Not right away maybe, but someday.
It was just like when he'd drop the Team off in the jungle back in 'Nam. The guys would head out into combat, and Murdock would fly back to the base. Part of him had always hated those runs; hated having to leave them. But it was the way it had to be sometimes—and when the time was right, they'd call. They'd need him, the LZ would be hot, and he'd have to push his bird to her limits just to stay airborne, but he would come. Their saving grace flying in on a chopper blade and a prayer.
The leaving and the hours or even days of waiting that followed never got any easier. But you couldn't man the lifelines if you were among the drowning. It was as simple as that.
"Murdock, did you hear anything I just said?"
What? Giving himself a little shake, Murdock blinked up at his friend. "Uh, no, sorry. I— what did you say?"
"I said you may not be certain, but I am. You don't belong here, Murdock—you never have and you never will."
It was the truth. Every word. At least as far as Face was concerned. Somehow knowing that made the choice to stay behind a little easier.
With a smile, Murdock bumped knees with Face. "Thanks, mon ami." The unspoken but I still can't go with you rang loudly in the space between them.
It didn't seem fair that silence could hurt so much.
"I'm sorry," Murdock whispered. "But it's gonna be okay, Faceman. I promise. And— and if it's not, well, we can always break me out later, right?"
The blanket shifted as Face moved, legs drawing up to his chest. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess so."
"And in the meantime if you guys get separated or if you need someone who's in contact with the real world—loosely speaking—you can call me here. I can— I can be like your home base." Murdock grinned as his own enthusiasm began to grow, then down-shifted to something more poetically dramatic and struck a pose. "Captain Murdock: the fugitive's touchstone in this maddening swirl of life."
Face snorted, head dropping onto his knees. He sighed, long and deep, but didn't argue. "Okay, Murdock. We'll do it your way."
"A wise decision, truly. You should always listen to the maniac in your midst."
Face lifted his head and shot Murdock a bemused look.
"Hey, just calling it like it is, Faceman. You, uh, you want some more of my chocolate bars?"
That sad, too-young, too-old smile came back. "No, you keep them, Murdock. I brought them for you."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure. But, ah…" Face frowned, as if caught off guard by some unexpected idea, then slowly began to grin. One leg folded back down on the bed. "There is something you could do for me, Murdock."
"Oh, yeah?" Catching the Jazz-like twinkle in his friend's eye, Murdock inched closer. "Name it, Faceguy."
"Well, if you're really set on staying here for awhile, I think we should do something about your diagnosis classification, don't you?"
"What kind of something?"
"Something radical—like change it. This near catatonic depression stuff, it's just not healthy."
"No?"
"No," Face drew the word out, his features painted with a kind of solicitous outrage. "I mean, if we're talking long term here, I really think you should consider all of your options. Go for something creative. Something with flare, you know?" Face leaned forward, clearly warming to his topic, and launched into a thesis on the benefits of cultivated hallucinations and fixations for the committed psych patient.
It was pure Faceman; completely off the cuff and loaded with sprinkles.
Murdock hung on every word.
TBC...
P.S.: Just FYI, the Baffle Bar was a real candy bar. It was manufactured from the early 1920s thru 1976. An article I found described it as having a bit of a mystery "with all the tang of the great outdoors" and "zest that was born of a mountain wind" (whatever that means, lol). It had a chocolate coating with walnuts, fudge, and some sort of jelly inside.
I wanted to make the candy bars Face brought something special. So I picked a brand that was due to be discontinued soon... I figured it was likely they might be becoming more rare and harder to find even in 1972. I don't know, I just liked the idea of Face hunting down something special and a little off-the-wall just for Murdock. :)