By Elizabeth Kent
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: slash, non-graphic sex
Pressed close together in the tiny airplane restroom, Face and Murdock smiled as Murdock slid up between Face and the wall. Then they were in each other’s arms. The kiss was short and sweet and full of relief and promise. It was all they had time for. But they were used to these stolen moments. A kiss like this could mean everything from, “Gee, I thought we’d never get a second alone,” to “If I die in the next five minutes, I’ll see you on the other side.” Face sincerely hoped this one meant, “I’ve found a few extra parachutes,” but rather doubted it.
Murdock pressed Face behind him, drew his gun, and unlocked the door, taking the man on the other side of it completely by surprise. As Murdock, B.A., and Face went about eliminating the competition, Face was grateful once again that Murdock was an accomplished pilot. He’d had several bad moments contemplating the uselessness of even trying to overpower Jackson and the other hijackers when he and Hannibal were still going to go down with the plane. Hannibal sure as hell couldn’t fly. What a stroke of luck that Murdock had made it onto the plane after all! Face was almost starting to believe in guardian angels.
He should have known better.
First there was the gun battle and the damage to Murdock’s eyes. Then there was a fierce wind trying to suck them all out of the plane. He threw his arms around Murdock and clung desperately to the seat. Somewhere in the forward part of the plane he could hear B.A. shouting, “Grab my hand! Grab my hand!”
“It’ll even out in a minute,” Murdock shouted over the noise of the wind. “Hang on, Face! Hang on!”
And when the suction disappeared, when things stopped flying around the cabin and Hannibal and BA were both still in one piece…that’s when their real trouble started. The control tower trying to get them to ditch in the ocean. Hannibal, who’d done nothing more than hold the stick in one short, introductory flight, trying to land the plane under Murdock’s tutelage, B.A. alternating between rage and despair beside him.
It was enough to tempt Face to just throw himself out of the plane after Jackson and be done with it. And if Murdock hadn’t been there, sitting in front of him, he might just have done it. But he’d never leave Murdock to die alone. He’d never leave him alone at all if he could help it. So he stayed in his seat, prayed fervently to every saint he thought he hadn’t alienated, and hoped Hannibal wouldn’t take too much of LAX out with them.
Now, three days later, he had Murdock safely ensconced in his new apartment. Murdock’s blindness would only be temporary, but the burns around his eyes had blistered, causing swelling and pain, and for now they were keeping them covered.
Face brought a can of soda with him and lightly brushed it over the knuckles of Murdock’s left hand. The hand turned, opened, and grasped the soda. Then Face settled on the sofa next to Murdock and put an arm around his shoulders.
“You’ll like this place, Murdock. As soon as your eyes are better you can go get your things from the VA and bring them over here. There’s plenty of room for everything. I’ll even get your video games and set them up over there in the corner, see, where the bookcase is now. Well, I guess you can’t see. But, well, there’s a bookcase there now. I’ll move things around while you’re at the VA, and by the time you get back, there’ll be a place for all your stuff.”
“Yeah, Faceman, that’ll be good. Real good.”
Face sensed a lack of enthusiasm.
“Look, Murdock, I know it’s not the kind of place you usually like, but you’ll see. You’ll like it when you get used to it.” This was something they’d dreamed about for years. A place of their own that they could share. No more empty house to come home to after a job. Being together. They’d wanted this for such a long time. Hadn’t they?
Murdock had seemed depressed ever since they’d led him off the plane. The longer he’d been with Face, the worse things seemed to get. Face thought it was just the effect of his injury and his fear at first that the damage to his eyesight might be permanent. If he couldn’t see, couldn’t fly, it would kill Murdock. Face knew that. He’d gotten Murdock the best eye specialist he could find to reassure him his sight would come back. He’d brought him back to his apartment…his and Murdock’s now…and pampered him. Back rubs, gourmet meals, making love on satin and silk bedclothes, anything he wanted. Still, Murdock was unhappy, and Face just could not figure out why.
Unless it was him. Face tried to remember anything he could have said or done in the last few days that might have set Murdock off. But try as he might, he could think of nothing.
So what was the problem?
“Murdock, are you mad at me about something?”
“Oh, no, no, muchacho. Not at all.” Murdock fumbled for the coffee table which he knew was in front of him…he’d fallen over it twice already since coming here…and set his soda down. He turned toward Face and reached out for him. Face took his hands and held them, searching Murdock’s face for some clue as to what was really wrong
It was so hard when he couldn’t see Murdock’s eyes. Murdock’s eyes were so expressive, so full of his feelings and thoughts. Face had never realized how much he depended on Murdock’s eyes to communicate with him. “Then what’s wrong?”
Murdock sighed and shook his head. “Nothing. I guess…I guess I’m just worried about gettin’ along in the big ol’ wide world you know. No safety net or nothin’.”
“Hey, you’ve got me! I’ve been catching you for the last three days every time you fall over the coffee table. What do you need a net for?”
“Yeah,” said Murdock with a little laugh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. What am I worried about?”
Face took him to bed then, made love to him. Said all the comforting things he could think of, promised, promised Murdock he’d be okay. “You’ll see,” he whispered as he thrust into Murdock and set up a gentle rhythm, “you’ll see. You’ll be happy here. I promise. God, Murdock, I’ve looked forward to this for so long. Us together. I’ll make you happy. You’ll see.”
“I know it, baby. I know,” Murdock said as Face collapsed against him. “We’re gonna be so stinkin’ happy together ain’t nobody never gonna be happier.”
It was Hannibal who called Face two days later while he was putting away groceries. He held the phone between his ear and his shoulder while he arranged things in the freezer. Mac and cheese for two. Murdock would like that.
“Face, we got Murdock back here to get his stuff.”
“Uh-huh.” Lasagna for two. Not Face’s favorite, but Murdock would like it.
“And we got here just in time to see his doctor…”
“So you got all the necessary papers then,” Face interrupted. He moved from the freezer to the cupboard. Extra-chunky peanut butter. More than enough for two. Murdock would really like that!
“Well, no.”
“You need me to come down there and straighten it out?” Face reached back into the grocery bag. Three cans of chili, two packages of hot dogs, and two of hot dog buns. Murdock’s favorite food.
“No. Face, Murdock’s staying here.”
Face plunked the frozen pepperoni pizza down on the counter. “What?”
“His doctor has been committed. He wasn’t supposed to release Murdock at all. They’ve recommitted Murdock, too.”
Okay. A minor roadblock. Face tossed the pizza into the freezer. “I can be down there in half an hour with new paperwork. We can break him out, bring him back here.” The six-pack of beer went on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. Murdock’s favorite brand.
“Kid, I don’t think you should do that. I think Murdock wants to stay.”
Stay? He wanted to stay? Hannibal must have heard wrong. “Are you sure?” The bottle of champagne went into the fridge to chill. It was to celebrate with tonight. Murdock’s homecoming. The final realization of their dreams.
Hannibal repeated the words he’d heard Murdock cry as he was locked in his room.
“Oh.”
Face stopped moving and stared dully into the recesses of the refrigerator.
“I just talked to Richter,” Hannibal continued. “He’s afraid the time away from here, especially given the nature of his injury, might have caused a little bit of a setback.”
“A setback?”
“You have to admit, Face, he’s been pretty down since they kicked him out. This is his home.”
Face looked around his apartment at the bare spot where the bookcase had been, moved now to make room for Murdock’s video game, the coat closet with space cleared out for Murdock’s leather jacket and heavy winter coat. Whose home was this, then?
“You still there, kid?”
“Yeah. I’m still here.” He laughed a little, or tried to, anyway. “Where else would I go?”
“I hope you didn’t make any elaborate preparations for him to move in, Face. He’d feel bad if he thought you went to a lot of trouble.”
“No, no trouble.” Face reached into the grocery sack, pulled out four packages of bubble gum, and threw them in the garbage. “It was just a temporary measure anyway until he found a place of his own. I expect he’s just as well off back at the VA.”
“That’s what Richter seems to think. He was hopping mad about that other doctor.”
“Did you…did you tell him Murdock had a place to stay? That he wasn’t gonna be alone?”
“Yeah. But Richter said he needs more than that. He needs medication, therapy. Things we can’t give him.”
Things I can’t give him.
“Okay.” Face tried to control his breathing and his voice. Tried to sound normal, unconcerned. “ Well, I’ll call him then and see how he’s settling in.”
“No, kid, don’t do that. The doc wants us to stay away awhile, let Murdock readjust.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry, kid.”
“Okay. Thanks for calling. Bye, Hannibal.” He cut Hannibal off in mid-word, hung up, and disconnected the phone cord from the wall, winding it neatly around his hand and tucking it behind the answering machine.
Then he took the lukewarm six pack out, sat out on the balcony for the rest of the day, and watched the world go by. Couples. Couples with children. Old couples. Young couples. And single people. Alone. Were they going home to an empty house? Someplace where nobody and nothing waited for them?
What had he done wrong? He’d scared Murdock off, that much was for certain. Did he push too hard? Want too much, too soon? Should he have offered to get Murdock his own place? Move out and let Murdock live here alone? Why hadn’t Murdock said so? Why let Face believe he wanted to be here? Why hadn’t he said he was unhappy?
The doorbell rang just at dusk, but he didn’t answer it. He’d be piss poor company right now. Anyone he would have wanted to see had a key, anyway. Finally he stood, made his way unsteadily inside, and fixed half a frozen lasagna for two, curled up on the couch, and choked down his meal. Frozen lasagna. God, he hated this stuff.
What had he done wrong?
Then he went to bed. Alone. He hated that, too. Hated to sleep alone. He pulled to him the pillow from the other side of his bed, the one that still smelled like Murdock, curled up around it. Murdock was sleeping alone tonight. Not wishing Face were there, evidently.
What had he done wrong?
It was late the next morning before he bothered to open his front door and get his paper. There on the doormat was a bunch of roses, wilted now, with an envelope tucked into them. Face bent and picked up the letter and the flowers, dropping the flowers in the kitchen garbage pail as he went by. The envelope was prestamped with a return address. The VA. Face recognized the VA stationery as he opened the envelope.
He sat at his dining room table, choking down black coffee to try and clear up his hangover, and read. This must be the Dear John letter. He should have expected it.
“Oh, Facey,” read the letter, “I know you must be pretty upset with me right now. I’m mad as hell at myself, to tell you the truth. This is gonna have to be short because they’ve given me some sleeping pills and they’re starting to work. I should have told you myself that I wasn’t feeling right about being on the outside. I was scared, Facey, scared spitless, and it didn’t have anything to do with you. You were all I had out there, and I knew, I just knew I’d end up depending so much on you I’d never learn to make my own way. Because you’re just that kind of a guy. You’d take care of me till my dying day…now don’t try to deny it because we both know it’s true. But I got to learn to be on my own. And the only way I know I can learn that is to be here.
I would have moved in with you if they hadn’t kept me here. I really would have. I was all set to get my stuff and come back. Knowing you, you were out buying frozen macaroni and cheese for two, weren’t you?
But once I got here, they made me stay. My new shrink…old one, now…he’s got the room right next to mine now. And even though I know it’s gonna hurt your feelings to say it, I was glad to be back. I needed to be back. I ain’t all the way well yet, Facey, and I just don’t know when I’m gonna be. My little room…it’s like a cocoon. Can you understand that? And me, I’m still a caterpillar. Someday maybe I’ll be a butterfly…okay, so I’ll probably be a moth, but you get the idea…and then I’ll be ready. But I’m not yet. I want to be, but I’m not.”
Insect analogy. Trite. Very trite. But very Murdock.
“But you know what’s going to make me better? It’s you, Facey. It’s knowing you’ve got a little place somewhere with chili dogs and frozen pizza and room for my video game that’s gonna get me well enough to feel comfortable out there. That’s gonna let me stand on my own two feet so I can be equal partners with you. That’s what I want most in all the world, Face, to be equal partners with you. The two of us together. Not just the crazy man you take care of, but someone who can take care of you too. Please try to understand, and forgive me if you can.
I love you, Faceman. I love you.”
The ‘I love you’s continued for the rest of the page and onto the back until it was obvious that Murdock had fallen asleep mid-word. Below it, in neat, feminine script, was another message.
“Faceman. Funny name. H.M. asked me to bring you this letter and to bring you some flowers. He swiped them out of the dining room at lunch today, but we all pretended not to notice. He told me you were waiting for him at home. That’s what he called it. At home. Not your home or your apartment, just home. And he sure hopes you’ll still be home waiting for him when he gets out. I won’t kid you…it could be awhile. It could be a few years. But he’s so much better than he was ten years ago, isn’t he? Sometimes he almost seems well. But he’s not, you know. He’s just not. If you love him like we love him, you’ll wait. He’s fallen asleep now, and I’m to bring this letter to your house. He loves you, you know. We should all be so lucky. Nurse Catherine Donnelly.”
Donnelly. Murdock’s favorite nurse. That was nice of her. Really nice.
Face reread the letter then read it again. He’d missed seeing Murdock’s homesickness. He’d missed seeing that Murdock really wasn’t well. Maybe he was just so used to how Murdock functioned when he was sick that he sometimes forgot what Murdock had been like before he started his long slide into the darkness of his mental illness. Or maybe Face just wanted to be with him so badly that he’d been more blind than Murdock had been. Too blind to see what Murdock needed.
But Murdock still loved him. He had the proof right there in black and white, over and over. He fished the bedraggled flowers out of the garbage, picked a stray green bean out of them, and put them in a vase. Maybe the water would perk them up a bit. Poor flowers…they looked like he felt.
Maybe he should look at this differently. It wasn’t that he was alone, coming back to an empty house after a mission. It was he who was keeping the home fires burning, waiting up for Murdock to come home. That wasn’t the same as being alone. Not really. Well, he’d waited this long. A few more years couldn’t hurt. Maybe by then they’d have been pardoned and they could buy a real home together somewhere on the beach in northern California. As he thought it over, it made more sense to him. Give it a few more years. Watch the finances, watch the real estate market. By the time Murdock was declared sane for real and set free, he’d be waiting with a beautiful new home and freezers full of pepperoni pizza. Just a few more years. Probably what, three or four tops…so 1987 was going to be the year to look forward to…the year their luck would change, their lives would change. Maybe he should give Murdock that date, something to work toward. Yeah, that’s what he’d do. They’d set a goal now and they’d work toward it. Eighty-seven was going to be their lucky number. He could feel it.
A sudden chill swept over him, and he glanced out the sliding glass door to see storm clouds brewing on the horizon. The breeze kicked up and blew his letter off the table. He retrieved it, closed the door, and read the letter again. Then he went into the bedroom and put it in the drawer of his nightstand. “Eighty-seven,” he said to the picture of Murdock and him that sat on his nightstand. “That’s not so bad. Everything will turn around for us by then. I can feel it.”
FINI
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