notjustaface | Shot To The Heart (or torso... whatever)

They didn't talk, deployment came before it came to that. And with another mission came another brush with death.

In Face's case, playing bait for a small terrorist cell holding some very important documents. Always the bait... and that always goes well.

"C'mon boys... any time now..." he mutters under his breath, twisting his wrist against the tight metal cuff linking him to a pipe he can't seem to budge. Best guess, he's got about ten minutes before the leader is back with a few of his goons and then the guns and well... that part's not so pretty.

There was a snag, there had to be a snag because there was always a snag. But really, any time the boys want to show up with a chopper or anything is just fine with him.

"Fuck this..." he groans, closing his eyes as he focuses everything he's got into bearing down on his fingers until they separate and he can pull free. "Son of a bitch... that fucking hurts..."

And the footsteps coming right toward him aren't exactly friendly sounding.

What seems like seconds later, he's curled up on the floor in his own blood waiting for the third shot. When it comes, it's not for him.

"Get me outta here guys."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hannibal rises up, squeezing Murdock's shoulder before heading out to report to the General.

For his part, Face is quiet - asleep this time thanks to the anesthesia while they'd been stitching him up and making sure nothing vital got clipped.

It could have been a whole lot worse, but as always his luck kept him mostly in the clear.

He's just afraid that someday that luck's gonna run out. Fate is an unreliable son of a bitch.

"Hey, buddy."

He knows Face is pretty much out of it, but talking makes him feel better.

There's no response at first save for the slow rhythmic breaths. Then, almost half an hour later, Face's eyelids flutter, managing to open halfway before he groans; "Made it."

He's halfway through the story about the stray dog in the mess tent (which, again, is being told mostly for his own sake) when he hears the quiet words.

"Yeah... yeah you did."

"What's his name?" He asks with a groggy smile, just a little high on good old morphine.

He's not really feeling much of anything at the moment, but the relieved look on Murdock's face tells him it's not so great.

'Relieved' isn't the half of it. He rests a hand on top of Face's, careful of his bandaged fingers.

"The dog?" He smiles. "Never did get his name. Billy seemed to like him though."

His lips crack with a wide smile and he manages a weak chuckle before feeling the tug in his side.

"Billy's a good boy."

He turns his hand slowly to feel the comfortable weight of his friend's palm. "Kept an eye on me while we were waiting for you guys."

"Yeah... he's a good dog."

The contact is acknowledged with a brief gentle squeeze, always mindful of the injuries.

"I can't stay long, but he can stay with you if you want."

He's messed up enough he can almost see the dog on the end of the cot, his muzzle tucked protectively over his boots.

"I'd like that," he murmurs. "Stay a lil' longer?"

"Sure, for a little while."

It's a comforting thought though... having a friend who'll be there when he can't be.

"You gave us a scare there. Shoulda known you're too stubborn to let those bastards take you out."

Somewhere under the cloud, Face knows that. He gets it.

His smile fades slightly at the memory and he sighs; "Got the jump on 'em, but one of 'em clipped my wing before I could disarm him - then... pow."

There's nothing quite like getting shot to get the old blood pumping. Or, you know, drop you to the floor.

It got the blood pumping, alright. All over the place.

"Happens to the best of us, man."

Granted, Face has a unique talent for getting himself in trouble, but they've all been in tight spots at one point or another.

Something about him just screams "beat the smug grin off my face" and Hannibal is all too happy to use it. Helps that he was the only one who could actually pull off the old 'captive reporter' scam.

"For a minute there thought you guys forgot me."

It's probably just the morphine talking, but the unspoken implications of that statement kind of hurt to think about.

"Nah."

He reaches up to ruffle his hair gently.

"You're pretty memorable."

If his smile is just a little too big, it's totally the drugs. Really. Honest.

"Glad you think so."

"You know I think so."

If he sounds a little bit intense, well.. it's been an emotional day.

"You okay?" He asks, flexing his two good fingers around the edge of Murdock's hand - pretty sure he saw the worst of it.

"Did we get the files?"

"Yeah, we got 'em. I gotta go meet up with BA in a little while."

The question about his own welfare is conspicuously unanswered.

Even stoned, he catches that - and the thought that Hannibal probably doesn't know he's there.

"Talk to me, man. What's going on upstairs?"

He's still remembering to breathe, but it's a little shaky.

"I'm okay. Just a little shaken up."

If he could manage nodding, he would - instead he just squeezes his hand as best he can and murmurs; "You did good. Got me back here in one piece."

Just a few new battle scars to show off later.

In some ways he feels silly being so upset about it. They're soldiers, stuff like this comes with the job. But damn, it still scares him sometimes.

"Just try not to get any more holes in you, okay?"

Normally, there'd be a joke in there but he's just too tired to make it happen. Especially when Murdock's got that profound look on his face like he's about to break.

"Promise I'll do my best." He tries to lift their joined hands to his lips, but stalls halfway - muscles demanding not to work and letting his arm fall back down against the cot.

Well, he tried.

"You do that." He reaches down and brushes a kiss across his knuckles.

"I'd better get going."

He's half expecting Hannibal to show up and shoo him out of the room.

"Feel better, okay?"

He wants to say 'don't go', but they both know that's just silly. He'll be up and stumbling by morning and back by the pool by lunch time.

Just the way it is.

"Well, I was thinking about faking a staph infection to spend more time with that hot nurse..." he smiles weakly, and quickly adds; "But, for you... yeah, I can do that."

(no subject)

notthatcrazy - 2013-03-16 05:38 (UTC) - Expand

notjustaface - 2013-03-16 05:40 (UTC) - Expand

notthatcrazy - 2013-03-16 05:45 (UTC) - Expand