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The first time they saw Murdock, they couldn’t exactly get to him. It had been Hannibal’s idea to check the VA’s records to see if he was in the system in LA. It was the only VA in town, and there should at least be a paper trail with his current address, even if he wasn’t in town.
They didn’t need an address.
Murdock’s permanent address was the hospital itself: the psychiatric ward.
“What?” Face hissed. They were in the records room, at two in the morning, working with a flashlight. “He’s here? Now?”
“Room 104,” Hannibal read quietly.
The lieutenant almost slammed the file cabinet shut, eyes wide. “Let’s go get him.”
“We can’t.”
“The hell we can’t!”
Hannibal grabbed his arm as he turned to go. Face felt a rush of desperation and felt his jaw clench. It had been months since he’d seen his best friend. And so much had happened since he’d dropped them in Hanoi. He needed his friend.
“Face, we can’t just go breaking a patient out of the psych ward. Now, his file says major depression, paranoid delusions, hallucinations, and intermittent memory loss, so far—”
“He’s always been a little off, you know that. He’ll be fine once he knows we’re here.”
“And what if he isn’t? We have no idea what happened after he dropped us off. We can’t take him out of here, not yet.”
“I want eyes on him, Hannibal,” Face stated flatly. His voice was tight, tense.
The Colonel nodded. “We check his room, and then we leave. We can come back another day.”
Hannibal slipped the file into his jacket pocket rather than return it to the cabinet. Face shut off the flashlight and checked the hallway before exiting.
“Room 104 should be down this hall,” Face said, checking the wall sign.
“We have to be quick. If a nurse walks by, or an MP, we’re through.”
“We’ll be fine.”
They followed the wall signs until they came to the final turn.
“102, 103, 10...4.”
The door was locked. Face tried it immediately. But he could see through the metal grill. The room was a good size, at least, and dark. Murdock’s sparse personal belongings were scattered around, but both men’s eyes were drawn towards the bed. He was laying on his side, facing away from them.
“Murdock!” Face hissed loudly. “Murdock, we’re here.”
Hannibal grabbed his arm. They were already on thin ice; if anyone had heard him... Instead, Face looked at the Captain. It was hard to see in the dark, but it was harder not to miss the way Murdock flinched. He put his hands over his ears and started muttering something as he curled into himself more. Face grabbed the grill and wrapped his fingers into it.
“Murdock! It’s Face! C’mon, buddy.”
Face heard footsteps down the hall, and his heart jumped into his throat. Hannibal grabbed Face’s arm and started hauling him away.
“Hannibal, please, I can’t—”
“I know, kid, but we gotta go.” Hannibal looked left and right when they came to another intersection. There was an exit just down the hall. B.A. was in the van just a block down. “We’ll be back for him, I promise.”
The second time was similar. At least they got to see his face this time. Face had stolen a doctor’s coat and scammed his way into the building. Hannibal played a janitor and was already somewhere in the building. B.A. would stick out like a sore thumb, so he’d stayed behind.
Face found him in the cafeteria during lunch time. More precisely, it was after lunch, but Murdock still had a tray full of food in front of him while other patients milled around with friends. He was in khaki pants and a Cherrio’s t-shirt, and instead of sitting in the chair, he crouched in it, feet on the seat. His knees were pressed to his chest, and he stared at the food like it was an enemy. A nurse stood next to him, trying and failing to get him to eat.
Warmth blossomed in his chest at the puckered look on Murdock’s face. That look meant that nothing the nurse could say would get him to do what she wanted. A small smile played on Face’s lips. God, he missed his best friend. It had been almost six months since they’d talked.
Another metal grill separated them. Face wanted nothing more than to bust into the cafeteria and make a scene. He’d imagined Murdock making a big deal out of everything and hugging him and crying. Unfortunately, that meant MP’s and more.
But why wasn’t he eating?
Someone bumped into him.
“Excuse me,” he said, moving aside. Wait, he recognized that wig. “Hannibal, could you be more obvious?”
“No MP’s on this floor,” he stated, mopping the floor around them. “How is he?”
Face folded his hands in front of him, blue eyes locked on his friend again. “He won’t eat.”
As he said it, a nurse walked by, looking over a chart. Her white uniform was pressed and spotless. Hannibal nodded towards her, and Face picked up the clue.
“Nurse,” Face started, pointing towards his friend. “Could you tell me more about that patient?”
“Mr. Murdock? I’m sorry, I can’t share any information.”
The Lieutenant pulled out his fake ID, proud that he’d taken extra time to make it look more legit. He felt like he’d be using it often. “I’m a psychologist, you see, just getting to know different patients here. I’m doing a research paper on the variety of patients we see in the area.”
Her lips were pursed, but as soon as Face flashed her a golden smile and gave her a wink, she relented. Behind her, Hannibal rolled his eyes. She flipped through a few pages on her clipboard.
“Captain H.M. Murdock. He’s been here several months now, but recently he’s been going downhill.”
Face’s brow pinched. “...what do you mean?”
“Well, you see, he’s been very depressed. Has night terrors. Won’t eat. Won’t take care of himself. We see it in patients with acute depression, and Mr. Murdock has a few other diagnoses to go with it.”
The lieutenant’s stomach clenched. “I see.” Hannibal bumped into him again. He was ready to shove him away. “Anything in his history?”
“Oh yeah,” she said. “He was a Captain in Vietnam. Apparently a really amazing pilot. But he practically had a building dropped on him and came from ‘Nam with a serious head wound.”
“Dropped on him, you said?” he asked nervously.
“Yeah, on his last mission. His file said there was some heavy shelling at the HQ. He almost died.”
Face swallowed. Hannibal had paused his mopping. Murdock had had a building dropped on him. Head wound. Almost died. There’d been plenty of close calls in ‘Nam, obviously, but then they’d been together. They’d been able to take care of one another.
This time, Murdock had been without his team. And it had almost cost him his life.
Face couldn’t stop thinking that maybe him dropping them in Hanoi could have been the last time they saw him. He could have died. Now, more than anything, he wanted to go talk to his friend. He wanted...
“Has therapy been helping him?”
“We hope,” the nurse responded. “His hallucinations have been getting worse—thought he heard some of his friends a few days ago. But he hasn’t really been sleeping either. His doctor has him on some new medicines, but it could take a few weeks before we see results.” The nurse hugged her clipboard to her chest. “I was here when they brought him in. Police picked him up from Skid Row. He was in pretty rough shape.”
Something heavy squirmed in his gut. “Skid Row, huh?”
“Said he was looking for some friends of his,” she responded.
“Oh.”
“He’s put on some healthy weight. A few pounds. He’s still underweight. Nightmares, panic attacks, hallucinations... He spends most of his time alone, or fighting us,” she added.
Inside, the nurse had given up trying to get Murdock to eat and was assisting other patients. Face watched as his friend slid into a normal sitting position. What he wouldn’t give to go in there and make him eat.
“Why isn’t he eating?”
Murdock continued to stare at the food like he had a personal vendetta against it.
“It’s not clear,” the nurse responded. “Some say it’s stubbornness, but his medications also have a side effect of nausea, so it could be that also. We count it as a win if we can get him to eat more than one meal a day.
Oh, Murdock.
Face had heard enough. He clenched his eyes shut. There was a warmth there he didn’t want. He also wanted to go in and tell his friend they’d found him—that they were all okay. He wasn’t alone. Not anymore.
“Thank you, nurse. I appreciate it.”
She nodded and slipped into the cafeteria. It took everything in Face not to follow her in.
“Hang in there, kid,” Hannibal said, voice clipped. “He’s safe now. He’s alive.”
“He’s in the psych ward, Hannibal. He’s hurting.”
“I know.”
“Skid Row. A building dropped on him. What else did we miss?” The lieutenant ran a hand down his face. “We need to leave before I go in there.”
“Okay, kid.”
Murdock was screaming. It reached Face’s ears all the way from the other end of the hallway. He hadn’t heard screams like that since...
He started running, a weight in his chest. And then he smelled it.
Ammonia.
“Damn it,” he hissed.
Murdock was still screaming, nurses and orderlies were rushing into the room, but Face knew that crowding him would only make things worse.
“What happened?” a doctor shouted.
One of the nurses answered, eyes wide. “I don’t know! Mary was just cleaning his room and—”
“—it’s the ammonia,” Face interrupted. “The Vietnamese used it in the POW camps.”
“Oh, god,” the nurse gasped.
“Get him sedated,” the doctor ordered.
Face took his chance to peek into Murdock’s room as the nurse ran off. He saw Murdock curled against a wall, hands over his ears. His eyes were clenched shut and his knees were against his chest. He was still screaming.
Oh, Murdock.
Face rushed into the room, ignoring the colonel’s voice in his head. He dropped to his knees next to his best friend and grabbed his biceps. The pilot flinched and kicked and screamed again. Face held on.
“It’s okay, Murdock!” he said into his ear. “You’re safe!”
Another nurse came over next to him and plunged a needle into his arm. Face’s heart ached for him. Almost immediately, the screaming stopped. His arms went slack. Face still held on. He kept giving reassurances, reminding him that he was home, that he was safe—please we’re all okay. We made it out alive.
His eyelids fluttered open and landed on him. His dark brown eyes were just in focus long enough to register.
His voice was soft and broken. “F-Face?”
Then his eyes slid shut and he tipped sideways. The nurse caught him and Face slid to his side and put Murdock’s arm over his shoulder. The nurse copied him, and together they got Murdock onto his bed. The doctor started checking his vitals.
“The Vietnamese used ammonia in the POW camps,” he repeated. “The torture rooms smelled like it all the time. You keep using it and this will happen again.”
The doctor nodded. “Sam, tell Mary no more ammonia.”
“And you’ll have to air out his room before he wakes up or he’ll have another episode.”
“Do you know the patient, sir?” the doctor asked him in a clipped voice.
Face swallowed, resisting the urge to snap at him that this was his best friend, damn it, and he needed to listen.
But then there would be more questions. Questions he couldn’t answer.
“Just visiting someone, Doc. Heard the screaming; thought I could help.”
“Well you did,” the doctor said. “We’ll take it from here.”
Face knew a dismissal when he heard it. Heart in his throat, he looked down at his best friend again. His eyes were closed with his forced sleep, and his hair was disheveled, but at least he wasn’t screaming anymore.
The lieutenant took a step back to prevent himself from reaching out and fixing his hair. He wanted to stay. He wanted to sit at his bedside and hold his hand and tell him that everything was okay.
But he couldn’t.
He’d already done more than he should have—he’d drawn attention to himself. He balled his hands into fists, took one last look at his best friend, and walked away.
It was breakfast in the cafeteria. Face stood outside, peering through the white metal grate again. He wore a hospital mask and fake glasses. No one had bothered him yet.
Murdock sat alone again, just picking at his food. He’d pillowed one cheek in his palm. The bags under his eyes said he hadn't slept a wink last night. Face sighed, rubbing a hand over his chest. Maybe he could sneak in one night and read him a bedtime story. Murdock would love that.
The thought brought a small smile to the lieutenant's face.
Hannibal had promised he could make contact soon. Face wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. The colonel was still very antsy about being on the run.
“Mr. Murdock.”
Face’s attention snapped back to his friend. The pilot’s eyes slid over to the nurse at his side. She held a small paper cup in her fingers.
“Your morning meds, sir.”
Murdock sighed and took the cup from her. “Thanks, darlin’”
“Down the hatch, Mr. Murdock.”
The nurse stood there watching as he tipped the cup into his mouth. He took his cup of water and swallowed, showing her an empty mouth. Face pursed his lips.
She flashed him a smile and moved on.
A second later, Face watched Murdock roll his tired eyes and pluck three pills from his lips. He dropped them into his oatmeal, stirred them in, and then pushed the tray away from him.
Face closed his eyes and let out a breath. Another thing to add to the list to talk to him about. When he finally could.
It wouldn’t be long now. Face couldn’t stand to watch this much longer.
Murdock folded his arms in front of him on the table and rested his forehead on his arms.
He’d have to talk to Hannibal again about making contact. Murdock needed him. And he needed Murdock.
The lieutenant looked at his watch. Hannibal would expect him to call soon.
He glanced up at his friend again. He hadn’t moved. Maybe he was finally getting some rest, though he’d definitely wake up sore from sitting that way.
Face took a deep breath, shoving his hands into his pockets. Soon.
Group therapy was in the cafeteria. The staff had pushed some tables to the corner and placed chairs into a large circle. Almost all of them were filled now.
Murdock sat backwards in his chair, arms resting on the back with chin on his forearms.
Face stood at the grate window again, dressed as a psychiatrist again. His fake badge hung from his lapel. He watched his friend close his eyes and huff out a breath as the psychiatrist announced they were starting. The rest of the patients took their seats, and Murdock ran a hand down his long face.
“Now there’s some new faces here, so why don’t we go around and introduce ourselves.”
Face crossed his arms over his chest as the patients one by one spoke and listed their name and rank. Some were inpatient, and some were outpatient folks who lived in the community. A few identified themselves as former POW’s. And each time someone did, Murdock sank further into his chair. Then:
“H.M. Murdock. Captain. Pilot in ‘Nam.”
The introductions continued until they were back to Dr. Sol.
Murdock hadn’t said anything about being a POW. Face didn’t blame him, but at least here he could get help. But first he had to open up.
Getting Murdock to open up to anyone except the team was like pulling teeth. Even then... you had to dig through his characters and songs to get him to talk. And then sometimes he just spoke in riddles. Usually, only Face had the patience to get to the heart of the matter.
But for now, Murdock was on his own.
Dr. Sol glanced at his clipboard before addressing the group. “Today I’d like to talk about fear. I’d like to go around and share a moment where we were afraid. Major Evens, would you care to start?”
He’d served in Vietnam, like them, and he told a story about getting shelled next to a rice paddy with water raining down on them and thirty pounds of ammunition weighing him down in the mud.
Face didn’t know when his jaw clenched, but it was starting to ache. He had to consciously unclench his fist and take a deep breath to calm himself. For a second, he would smell the rice paddy, the gun powder, feel the tightness in his chest.
Murdock had gone very still in his chair.
The next person talked about a car backfiring that had him on the ground.
Things like that.
Then someone started talking about the camps: the smell of dysentery in the heat, the hunger pains that lasted days, not knowing if you’d live or die.
Another patient put in his two cents, and then another. And then all the former POW’s were sharing. From ‘Nam, two from Korea.
All except Murdock.
He sat there staring at the floor with a white knuckle grip on the back of his chair. For another few moments, he just sat there, staring. Then abruptly, he stood, almost kicking the chair out from under him as he hurried towards the door. A few eyes watched him go while the discussion continued, and Face watched Dr. Sol nod towards Murdock at an orderly.
It was clear the Captain wasn’t alright, and it broke Face’s heart. He hurried from the room with wild eyes, passing only a few feet from Face’s right as he headed towards his room. The lieutenant intercepted the orderly that was sent after his friend.
“Let me grab this one, hm?” he said, trying for casual despite the alarm he felt. “I’m a psychiatrist from San Francisco, and he’s an old patient.”
“Sure, doctor,” was the grateful reply.
Face’s heart pounded in his chest, aching for his friend as he followed him to his room. Murdock had shut the door behind him, clearly hoping to hide. But Face wasn’t going to let him.
It was time to see his best friend.
Face pushed the door open slowly so he didn’t startle his friend. The room was almost bare save for some dirty laundry on the floor. There was a private bathroom on the right, and a single bed off to the left. The lights were too bright. Murdock was doubled over himself by the window, struggling to catch his breath. His thin arms were wrapped around his too thin frame.
There was an ache in Face’s chest as best friend struggled to breathe.
“Murdock?” he asked softly.
The pilot didn’t react.
“Murdock?”
His breathing was getting heavier, and Face forgot all about trying not to frighten him and rushed over. He put his hands on Murdock’s shoulders, spinning him to face him. The pilot flinched and straightened, letting out a gasp. His brown eyes locked onto Face’s, wide and scared. Face forgot how to breathe. It had been months since they’d talked, and finally having Murdock see him after hiding...
“Face?” he asked breathlessly. The glint of hope in his watering eyes was quickly replaced with grief as he intertwined his fingers in his hair. “I’m just seeing things, ain’t I?”
His chest was heaving for breath, and Face grabbed his biceps and carefully steered him towards the bed before he fell over.
“I’m here, Murdock,” he said fervently. “I’m real. You have to breathe.”
“No, I’m just... Damn it...”
Face tried to gently pull his hands away from his head. “Please, Murdock, breathe.”
He pitched sideways and his head landed on Face’s shoulder. The lieutenant put one arm around his back and held his arm down; his other hand went to the side of Murdock’s face.
“That’s it, Murdock, just breathe.”
He let out a shaky exhale. “You even smell like Face.”
“Murdock...”
Face felt the tears on his shoulder before he saw them. Then he heard sniffling and adjusted his hold on his friend. One hand on his far shoulder and one hand around his head, on his forehead. He just let him cry and held him close. It didn’t take long before the crying turned back into just sniffling.
“Face?”
A small smile pulled on his lips. “Yeah, Murdock?”
“Where’ve you been?”
Face sighed and closed his eyes, fussing with his friend’s hair. “Around.”
“I didn’t think you’d find me.”
“I’ll always find you.”
There was a pause where Murdock nestled further into his shoulder. “I tried to find you guys,” he sniffed. “I tried.”
“I know.”
“But I couldn’t.” His voice was thick, threatening more tears. “And then I wound up in here with no way to reach out, and—
“It’s okay, Murdock, I found you. You’re not alone. I’m here. Right here.”
The pilot exhaled a low sob.
“Keep breathing, okay?” Face said. “Just keep breathing.”
The conman was busy kicking himself. He never should have listened to Hannibal. He should have made contact the minute they knew Murdock was here. Instead, they’d let Murdock believe he was still alone and out of reach. He’d let him suffer needlessly.
“I’m sorry, Murdock,” he started. “I’ve been here a few times this week, but... See, Hannibal wanted to gather intel, and then it didn’t seem like the right time—”
The pilot pulled back, brown eyes wet. The deep frown on his face had the lieutenant swallowing his next words.
“That really was you, wasn’t it?” he asked.
Face’s eyebrow rose in question.
“The other day... with the—with the ammonia, and you were there.”
The lieutenant’s hand was still on his shoulder, and he gave him a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, that was real,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. I should have done more.”
“You helped.” Murdock pulled back enough to give him a lopsided grin. “That’s plenty.”
“I thought... I thought you’d be angry?” Face admitted.
Murdock wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. “You found me. Why would I be mad?”
Face gave him a squeeze. “I’m sorry it took so long.”
“Will you quit apologizin’? Let me enjoy this very unlike-Face hug.”
The conman breathed a laugh into his friend’s hair. He ran his arm up and down Murdock’s arm as his friend just breathed. But something was sitting in his stomach.
“Hey, Murdock?”
“Hm?”
“C’mon, sit up for a second, okay?”
The captain let out a breath and pulled away, blinking heavily. Face kept his hand on his shoulder and helped steady him. God, he really did need rest.
“I, um, talked with one of the nurses a few days ago,” Face started.
“Yeah, which one?”
“She, uh—that doesn’t matter. She said you had a building dropped on you.”
Murdock pursed his lips.
“Said you had a bad head wound.”
The pilot sighed. “Yeah. HQ was bombed. I don’t really ‘member much of it. Doc said I had a concussion or somethin’. I remember the ceiling cavin’ in. I probably looked like hell flyin’ out.”
“You flew? With a concussion?”
Murdock just shrugged.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“Been through worse.”
The conman shook his head. “What happened to Morrison? Was he still there when you got back?”
“Yeah, but... I don’t know what happened. Can’t remember.” He looked down at his hands. “I know it would’ve helped if I knew. I’m sorry, Facey.”
“No, it’s fine,” he said. “Maybe it’s better if you don’t remember.”
Murdock hummed.
Face’s hand slid from the pilot's shoulder down to his forearm. He gave it a gentle squeeze and waited until Murdock’s dark eyes met his to speak. The lieutenant swallowed.
“The nurse... she also mentioned Skid Row?”
Murdock’s gaze fell, but Face saw the shame burning in his eyes.
“What happened?” he asked quietly.
Murdock was silent for a moment, pulling at his fingers. “I got back, and... I dunno. Just didn’t fit. I mean I never did, but... Nothing worked. I was discharged, and I went looking for you guys—didn’t wanna go home not knowin’ you guys were okay.”
The conman laid his hand on Murdock’s to prevent him from picking at his cuticles. He ran a thumb over rough knuckles. “Did you know about the trail yet?”
His friend nodded, voice thick. “That all happened while I was in the hospital for the head wound. It’s all a blur. And I know... I knew you guys would come to LA once you’d escaped, so I... I went out lookin’.”
There was a warmth behind Face’s eyes. “On your own?”
“No one would listen to me that you guys were innocent. I mean, I knew it! I was there when you got your orders!”
Face squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, Murdock. It’s alright. What happened next?”
The pilot closed his eyes and took a moment to breathe. “I got... I got real low, you know?” He wouldn’t meet his friend’s eyes. His adam’s apple bobbed. “Picked a fight with the wrong person. Someone called the police. Ended up in the hospital again. Psych eval. Landed here.” He held onto the lieutenant's hand. “And all I wanted was to get out and find you guys. I couldn’t even leave a sign like back in ‘Nam. I never thought... I mean I’d hoped, but I didn’t know how you’d get to me in here.”
“We weren’t going to leave you behind, Murdock. We didn’t in Vietnam, and we won’t now. I won’t.”
He ran a hand under his nose, a small flush in his cheeks. “How’re... how’re the colonel and BA?”
“Both are wound up pretty tight,” he said honestly. “I mean, we all are. BA’s been spending a lot of time at a Community Center in town, helping disadvantaged kids. Not really sure what Hannibal’s been up to.” He let out a breath. “But he has us checking in every few hours and not staying in one place for too long. I don’t even know where I’ll be living in a few days.”
“Sounds stressful.”
Face threw up the hand that wasn’t holding Murdock’s. “What—what am I doing? You’re here, and you just... and I’m telling you my problems. I shouldn’t be adding to your burden. I’m—”
“Don’t you apologize, Facey,” he cut in. Murdock gave his friend’s hand a pinch. “Your problems are my problems.”
The lieutenant sighed, glancing at their hands before looking back up into his friend’s soft brown eyes. “And yours are mine. Are... are you okay, Murdock? I mean—I know you’re not, but I... I know you’re not sleeping. And I saw you fake taking your meds.” He frowned at Murdock’s scowl. “Don’t look at me like that—you need them if you’re going to get better, right?”
“I hate taking them,” he said bitterly. “I hate needing them.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Murdock leaned forward and tapped his forehead on Face’s shoulder. “I’ll try.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
The conman gave him a small smile. “Thank you. And what’s keeping you from sleeping?”
Murdock pulled his head off his friend’s shoulder, but the pilot kept his dark, stormy eyes on their hands. “Mostly nightmares,” he said. “They’re so vivid.”
“...what’re they about?” Face asked softly. Murdock didn’t respond for several seconds, and he added: “I’m here for you, Murdock.”
“They’re... I mean, it’s a lot,” he said quietly, voice thin and weary. “A lot of it is ‘Nam in general. A lot of it... most of it is the camps. Face, I... Last night, I...”
“It’s alright,” he muttered. The conman put his free hand over their connected ones. “I’m here.”
“You... you died,” he said, voice catching. His accent sounded thick. Water was building on his lower lid. “In my dream. They... in the camps... I watched them torture you, and I... I couldn’t do anything. Again.”
The last word was punctuated with a low sob. He pitched forwards, and Face wrapped his arms around him as he cried. Deep, wracking sobs rattled his body. The lieutenant ran a hand through his friend’s hair and down his neck, resting one hand on the nape and running the other hand up and down his back. His chest hurt just listening to his best friend.
“I’m here, Murdock,” he said into his ear. He felt tears pressing against the backs of his own eyes. “I’m safe. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”
“Do you know how many times I’ve watched you die?” he asked desperately, pulling back to look at him. “Either being tortured in the camps, or blown up, or taking a slug, and there wasn’t anything I could do. I just had to watch... So vivid, Face.”
The terror in his eyes had the conman breaking. He hadn’t seen that expression on his friend’s face in so long... not since the camps. Only Face knew that Murdock struggled to remember some of his time there, and for good reason. And to keep dreaming about it anyway...
The nurse's words came back to him.
“Can’t catch a break.”
Face leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Murdock again as more tears fell. The pilot tucked himself into the crook of his neck, breath coming in sharp gasps.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
The conman ran a hand up and down his back. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. Listen, I’m right here. I’m safe. You’re not alone.”
Murdock pulled him even closer, breath hitching. The lieutenant kept whispering reassuring nothings to him as he cried, reminding him that they weren’t there anymore, and that they were safe and together and alive.
The pilot pulled back, scrubbing at his eyes. “I’m sorry. This is so pathetic. I shouldn’t...”
“...shouldn’t what?”
“I should be better,” he bit out. “The team needs me to be better.”
“Murdock, we just want you to be okay. And it’s okay that you’re not right now,” Face said. “You’re not pathetic. I know I’ve done my fair share of crying lately.”
The pilot looked at him through red rimmed eyes. “You have?”
“Absolutely,” he replied.
Murdock swallowed, his hand finding his friend’s again. “Thank you for coming. I... I really missed you.”
Warmth blossomed inside Face’s chest. “I missed you too, buddy. Promise me you’ll take your meds and give therapy a shot? I don’t... I don’t want you getting low again, you know? If it can be helped. And they can help with your nightmares. Please?”
The captain nodded, squeezing his hand. “I promise. Thank you, Facey.”
“And I’ll be back to make sure you’re keeping that promise,” he said with a smirk.
The hope that shone in Murdock’s eyes made Face want to weep.
“Good,” he smiled. “I’m getting stir crazy in here.”
Face nodded. “Well, once you’re allowed, I’ll get you out for some weekends. As soon as we can. Promise.”
After a moment, Murdock’s eyes dropped again. “How long can you stay?”
The lieutenant squeezed his hand. “I told them I’m a psychiatrist and you’re an old patient. Probably an hour? Hannibal will want us checking in by then anyhow.”
“He really is wound up, huh?”
“You have no idea.”
Murdock let out a little laugh.
Face ran his finger over Murdock’s rough knuckles. “It’s going to be okay, H.M. I promise.”