Chapter Text
Face wasn’t hideously surprised when Murdock was ill for their next lesson, and though he would normally push the issue, he let it go. He had, after all, gotten the man back long after the pass had allowed and whether sick or just confined, it didn’t particularly matter. They both needed space – him to plan and Murdock to cool down.
He didn’t let Murdock get out of their lesson that weekend, however. “Murdock, I got a weekend pass already.”
“Face, I’m tired.” And the pilot did sound tired over the phone. He could picture Murdock slumped on his bed, socked feet hanging off and cap sideways on his head. “Next week, promise.”
But Face wanted this resolved, one way or the other, and the sooner the better. “I already made reservations.” Which was true, in one sense. “Come on, Murdock, if this is about the other night…”
Murdock sighed, shifting the phone from one ear to the other. “No, it ain’t that.” It probably was, but Face would address it later.
“Then why not?”
"I'm tired.
"Sleep in the car."
"I promised Billy a play day."
"He can come."
"In the Vette?"
"I'll put down newspaper."
“I have therapy, Faceman…”
“On Saturdays?”
He had the pilot in a corner and Murdock knew it. After a long pause the pilot sighed, shifting irritably. “All right, what time?”
Face smiled and managed to contain most of his triumphant tone, channeling his excitement into twirling the phone cord around his fingers. “Saturday, 10 o’clock.”
“You want me to bring it?”
“No.” They wouldn’t need the toy plane. Not this time. “Just yourself.”
If Murdock was puzzled he didn’t say anything, though he did give Face a curious look when Face met him in the V.A. lobby that bright Saturday morning, the con man smiling coolly in that way that Murdock knew meant something was up. The pilot refrained from asking, however, until after they had pulled the scam – poor Mr. Murdock needed intensive nature therapy for the weekend out at the lake, it was good for the complexion, because a pallid face is a sure fire sign of a relapse as that new study showed, didn’t you read that one? Most influential.
“A weekend, Face? I thought we were just getting lunch, maybe dinner.” Brown eyes were watching him as the pulled away with a squeal, one stiff hand hanging out the side like old times.
Face flashed him a reassuring smile. “Well, now we’re getting both. I thought we’d go get hamburgers for lunch and somewhere nice for dinner.”
Murdock frowned, shifting uncomfortably. “I didn’t pack anything…”
It came out before he could stop himself. “You’re fine just the way you are, buddy.”
The pilot gave him a surprised look and he blushed a bit, looking forward and wondering what the hell possessed him to say that. Particularly as they had already established…but the man hadn’t been in his right emotional state. There was still a chance. There had to be. So many signs couldn’t be wrong. He never misread, never.
But the awkward silence had already descended and all Face could do was clear his throat and change the topic. “So did you hear about Hannibal’s newest part?”
That got them back onto normal speaking terms soon enough and he even had Murdock chuckling by the time they pulled up to their destination. He was proud of himself for this, knew it might trigger another quasi-fight, might not go well. But he was hoping it was met with the enthusiasm he so badly wanted to see. Wanted this to go down like the pictures in his mind that he’d seen so vividly for the past week. So it was with bated breath that engines roared and Murdock’s head whipped forward as they drove up.
There was a good three minutes of silence in the Vette, car shifted into park, engine turned off, before Murdock spoke. “Why are we here, Faceman?”
Face chose to ignore the flat tone. “To fly, of course.”
Brown eyes locked onto him, boring into his skull with the intensity of confusion and irritation. “Face, we talked about this.”
“I know.”
“I haven’t changed my mind.”
“That’s fine.”
A small plane whined over head as Murdock took a deep breath, swallowed, and looked back out at the hangar, hands braced palms down on the dash. “So why are we here then, Face?”
“Well, we’re not flying together.”
“I think we established that.”
Face just glanced at his watch, unable to keep a smile off his face despite the thick tension. “But you’re flying.”
Murdock just stared at him. “Face.”
Casual, calm, cool, Face was pretty proud of himself as he adjusted his sunglasses, shading his eyes further to squint at a plane high above in the flight pattern. “Hm?”
“Face.”
“Yes?” Murdock was getting frustrated, he could tell by the way the man’s hands were turning white against the dashboard. It was his cue to turn and look the brown eyes dead on. “Murdock.”
He had the pilot’s rapt attention, so he smiled. A soft smile that didn’t have a secret or a surprise or a trick up its sleeve. Nothing but an honest to god smile, or so he hoped. Sometimes he worried about being so out of practice with real that he belonged with Murdock in the land of unreal. He wasn’t sure it worked, but it was worth trying to dig up once more for this.
“Murdock, I know, ok?” Murdock lifted his chin a bit, defensive but curious, so he went on. “I know that you don’t want to fly with me. I get it. It’s more practical with someone else. I understand, I promise.”
Only when Murdock nodded (slowly) did Face continue. “But I don’t understand why you won’t fly.”
“Don’t exactly get a lot of chances in the V.A.” Came the automatic answer, fast and practiced from the pilot’s lips.
“You wouldn’t even fly the toy plane, buddy.”
“Was just being nice…”
“It was more than that,” he said, leather squeaking as he gave the pilot a look. He was Faceman, and he was not fooled by that excuse. He’d given it enough times himself to know it wasn’t true. “You wouldn’t touch the controls without me practically begging you.”
Murdock didn’t deny it. The pilot just shifted and looked down at the floor mats, Converse scuffing at the pristine coverings. Face watched him for a long moment before reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. “What happened, Murdock? What happened to that spirit?”
There was a long moment of silence, longer than the first few times as if the universe were accentuating the fact that this was all a gamble. A high risk, all or nothing bid to get back the pilot that he wanted, that he needed. To get the thing he wanted - maybe, someday - in return.
Under his hand Face could feel Murdock’s muscles tensing and untensing, an interplay of shifting unease and tense rigidity. The long hands on the dash slid down with the squeak of plastic and pooled into Murdock’s lap, fingers listlessly curled. Head bowed, shoulders hunched, and chest still, the pilot’s eyes were far away for a good long while. And through it all Face found himself waiting calmly, mind as still as the man he was watching, breath held and hand loose as he waited for words to make or break the tension still lingering.
He almost missed the words over the drone of a twin engine.
“I lied to you, Faceman.”
It wasn't exactly the confession he had thought he'd be hearing. "What?"
Murdock licked his lips, eyes focusing now on his hands. "I lied when I said I don't want to fly with you. I do."
Face blinked a few times, thought about asking why, but instead went with a simple, "Ok." Which was apparently the right thing to do.
"It's just...I don't want this to happen to you." Murdock lifted a hand, curling his fingers slowly. "We don't need one more liability on the team."
Now he had to interrupt. "Murdock, don't-"
"Don't deny it, Face!" The sudden thump of Murdock's fist on the dashboard caused him to jump and he fell silent. "Just, don't, ok? Don't even say I'm not cause I am, Face. Can barely hold coffee some days, much less shoot a gun. And if I can't even do that, how do you think I'm going to handle flight controls? So just...don't, ok?"
The pilot wasn't angry, not exactly. Resolute was perhaps a better word. As if the man had thought about this a lot and reached the only logical (and wrong, Face said to himself) conclusion.
"Murdock..." He tried again, slowly, calmly. "I'm not asking you to fly a mission."
"But you're asking me to fly."
Which he was, he knew that. But they were getting off topic because the real question hadn't been answered. "I'm asking you to do something you love." Then a thought hit him and he asked, "You...do still love it, right?"
“Of course I do,” Murdock hissed and at least the man hadn’t hesitated, Face told himself.
“Then why are you hesitating?”
That had Murdock falling silent and Face wondered if perhaps that was his new ability – silencing Murdock. It was a bit worrying, as it wasn’t an ability Face necessarily wanted. At least not in this capacity. But had it he did and now all he could do was try not to shift as Murdock’s frown deepened.
“I’m not hesitating.”
He sighed. Stubborn, in denial fool. “So you haven’t been with us on a training run because…?”
“I told you, I can’t hold a gun.”
“We weren’t asking you too. You can still drive, fly, you could come out with us and just sit by the lake when we do training if that’s how you feel.”
Murdock gave a short little, unhappy laugh. “So I can, what, Face, have dinner all done up by the time you all come in from the range? Maybe be there on the porch with a pitcher of fresh made lemonade. I'll need a new apron though if I'm going to have the house clean by the time-"
"I get it, I get it." He hadn't really thought of the offer in that way, but apparently there was more to the bitterness than just losing hand function, and he would have to respect that. Tease it out, reassure it down eventually, but one thing at a time. "I'm just saying that this..." He gestured vaguely to Murdock's still curled fingers. "Doesn't mean the end of anything."
The pilot gave him a look and said, dryly, "Technically, I think a few nerve endings disagree with you."
Now the man was getting cynical and it was making Face frustrated. He had to count to three as he took a deep breath before he could go on. "Nothing's changed because of this, Murdock." He added, quickly, "Nothing about how we view you. No, I mean it. Just listen, ok?"
After a moment Murdock stopped squirming and gave a consenting nod, head turned and eyes focused out on the distant landing strip. Running a hand through his hair and cranking the air up one more, Face bought himself a minute to organize his thoughts and find a way to say everything without having to voice the harder things.
"You're a good pilot Murdock. Not were, are." He gave a pointed look as the pilot tried to inject, succeeding when Murdock's jaw snapped shut. "Nothing has happened for us to think less of you. So you might not be able to hold a gun, who cares?"
"Hannibal-"
"Just wants you to get comfortable with yourself." Murdock sighed and he took that as a sign to press on. "If that means you never come with us on a mission again, fine. But it's not like we're just using you for missions, buddy."
Laying a careful hand back on Murdock's shoulder, Face waited a few long seconds for those brown eyes to lock on his before he said, slowly, carefully, deliberately, "You're our friend, Murdock. Before team mate, you're that, ok?"
There really wasn't much more to say than that, not without things getting weirder than they already. He was still as Murdock scrutinized him, looking him up and down, and he had to swallow away the fear that maybe he'd said something else this time to set the man off.
Finally, Murdock gave a little sigh and slumped back into the seat, tension suddenly gone. “What do you want me to do, Face?”
“I want you to fly,” he said, letting his hand find its way back up to Murdock’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “I want you to get that fighting spirit back, buddy.”
He wished Hannibal were here. For all of the Colonel’s brusque nature, the man knew how to give an inspirational speech and make it sound a lot more convincing than Face could. More than he wanted Murdock to suddenly confess undying love, more than he wanted the man in his bed, even more than he wanted Murdock’s mobility back (well, ok, maybe not that, but still), he wanted Murdock to get back to that effervescent confidence the man was known for. To get that spirit back that made the man look up in wonder, not anxiety, when a plane cruised by over head.
"How do you want me to do that exactly, Face?" Those brown eyes were watching him with a world-weary new line to that face, and Face realized what was happening before he opened his mouth and cemented that defeat into the pilot's voice.
"No, no Murdock, there's nothing I want you to do." Murdock gave him a look and he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Ok, I want you to do it because you want to do it. Not because I asked you. Or, well, I want you to look into it because I asked, but that doesn't obligate you into suddenly picking up everything you left and starting from there."
Murdock snorted and he felt himself redden a bit at the flustered pitch. Swallowing and adjusting the air for the millionth time, Face gave a bit of a frustrated huff. This wasn't really going well.
"Look, Murdock, I just want you to be happy..." This was also getting stupid, and Face could feel his face reddening, again. "Flying used to do that. If it doesn't anymore, fine, I'll back off. But you won't know until you try, and hell, bud, do you really not want to at least do that? Are you that scared?"
It had slipped out before he could stop himself. Murdock picked up on it immediately and turned, a growing look of anger clouding his face. "I ain't scared, Faceman."
But he had had enough of this. It was one thing to be stubborn, another to be pig-headed, and this had crossed the line about five minutes ago. "Then what is it? Because you've never had issues like this before, not even in 'Nam, and now you won't even get in a plane you're not even flying!"
A long hard look met Murdock's, and to Face's great relief it was Murdock who backed down. Brown eyes flashed something akin to guilt and the pilot looked down and away like a chastised child. Face's first instinct was to apologize to that hurt expression. But he reigned himself in. This was it, and he wasn't going to apologize for concern. Murdock would have to deal with it.
Finally, after two Cessnas did a touch and go, Murdock's nose twitched. "What did you mean, a plane I'm not flying?"
He sighed, glancing at his watch. "I know a stunt pilot out here. I managed to get him to agree to take an old Army friend of mine up for a ride. Said it would help him out..." Face took a breath in and let it out. "You don't have to if you don't want to. He'll understand."
At silence, Face felt himself blurting out more words, just to fill that uncomfortable space. "You don't have to even touch the controls. You just have to sit there, appreciate it, hold on when he does the barrel rolls, and..." He threw his hands up, letting his back hit the seat heavily. "I don't know, Murdock, just...be in 'awe' of it I guess."
This was a bad idea. A horrible, no good, very bad idea. He had thought that he'd be the hero, bringing the man out there. That the no obligation flying would be just the thing to kickstart that desire. But so far all he had managed was to make the man upset.
Maybe he had moved to fast, tried to hard.
No, he had definitely moved too fast. All Face could do was watch as Murdock fidgeted, looking from his hands to the flight field then, discreetly, to Face, then back to his hands to start the cycle all over again. There were so many more things Face wanted to say: how the pilot was the bravest man he knew, how Murdock could do this if he just tried, how-
"Why, Faceman?"
It took him a moment to realize Murdock had been speaking to him. "Why what?"
"This, all this." Murdock gestured to the distant runway.
At least he had an easy way to answer that. "Because I want you happy, buddy. I miss Howling Mad Murdock."
Murdock gave him a long look. "Buddy?"
He froze for a moment. He'd always called Murdock that, had been doing so for awhile, so why call him out on it now? "Well, yeah, you're my friend..."
"Oh." And it was the same kind of 'oh' that he'd said last week on the pier.
Face had to fight to keep his heart from leaping out of his chest and ruining the leather seats with blood. "I mean, you're my friend, but, well, I..." There was no good way to say it. Suddenly it was hot, and tugging on his collar wasn't helping. "Is it hot? I really need to get this in for my mechanic to take a look at the air conditioner..."
He adjusted the vents, again, and hoped that Murdock would stop staring at him with that calm, calculating look. They'd already established this, right? Not like the earlier arguing would help him get anywhere.
Murdock, fortunately, didn't say anything. Just shook his head and curled his fingers again. Face, glancing at his watch once more, put his hand on the door handle, preparing to end this early, get lunch, calm down, and take Murdock back. "Let me just go tell Parker maybe another day..."
"Face, wait."
His hand froze even as his head turned. Murdock had one hand slightly outstretched, as if to stop him. There was a torn look in the man's eyes, conflicted. He waited as Murdock let his hand drop.
"I wanna go."
"Are you sure?" After all this fuss, he wasn't going to push the man anymore. "I don't want you to go just for me."
Murdock just shook his head, however, tugging on the rim of his baseball cap. "No, I want to go. You went to all this trouble-"
"It really wasn't any-"
"And you seem so keen-"
"But I want you to want-"
"And sometimes you just need a kick in the pants from someone you care about to show you that you're bein' an idiot."
That had Face spluttering a bit, Murdock looking on with a hint of a smile this time. The sound of engines and air conditioning took over again, but it didn't matter because all he could hear was the fact that the word 'friend' had not been used. Someone you care about. That could mean...right?
Evidently so, as Murdock put a hand out and carefully squeezed Face's shoulder. A tentative smile spread across the Southerner's face, and slowly Face felt the shock slip away and start to be replaced with a smile of his own. Despite the angry words, despite the pushing, despite the nagging, the pleading, the (at times) selfish shoving toward a particular goal, there was that something in there that he'd first seen that day in the hospital. The same something that was driving him to go out of his way, using his time, using his resources in an exhaustively extensive way for someone else. He liked to think that it was the same something that had eroded that iron will as well, that was the cause for this sudden 'yes' that the pilot was giving him now.
He had more theories and ideas that he wanted to test, but before he could open his mouth to ask, a knock on the window caught his attention. They both pulled away quickly as a sandy-haired, blue-eyed man looked in. “Richard? Sorry, saw your car and, well, I’m all set and ready…”
All Face could do was blink as Murdock laughed at his flustered expression. “Right, right, sorry about that. Parker, this is Murdock. Murdock, this is Dylan Parker…”
It took Murdock longer than normal to get out of the car, nervousness rolling off the man in the way he shifted from foot to foot. “Nice to meet ya…” And while the greeting was less enthusiastic than Face had wanted, to Parker’s credit he didn’t flinch when he shook hands with the Southerner.
He watched as they walked off, disappearing through the gate and onto the hangar floor, where the beautiful blue and white-checkered bi-plane had been ready for the past thirty minutes. Even from this distance he could see Murdock’s hands find his pockets, twitching already in unsaid anxiety. But as the two pilots approached, he swore he could see Murdock’s head lift just a bit and that gait falter just a bit at the sight of that magnificent air craft, primed and ready.
It was going to be a long road still. He had no doubt about it as he watched Murdock take the headset offered, fingers stroking the hard plastic as Parker went on with an (undoubtedly unnecessary) safety briefing. But the fact that Murdock was getting into the passenger side himself, feet steady, and headset already on, well…
Face liked to think things were finally starting to speed up again.
And all he could do was smile.
Smile, because it really was an awesome sight to see that plane looping and spinning and flying in ways that no kite, no motorized toy, and barely even some imaginations could. Perhaps not quite what Lindbergh would have thought back in his day, but Face had to admit, that, that was definitely the flying that he associated Murdock with, for better or for worse. He was still smiling when, a half-hour and several wishes for nausea-reducing medicine (and he wasn’t even in the air) later, the plane touched down and Murdock bounded over the tarmac, Converse thudding in rhythmic two-time until the pilot was throwing his long arms around Face, kissing him soundly even as the dust kicked up by his enthusiasm began to settle once more.
After a good few seconds of shock – and the realization that, yes, the man was kissing him in a uncomfortably public place – Face squirmed and pushed Murdock away, face reddening by the second. It didn’t deter Murdock from wrapping himself around Face into a tight hug, burying his face into Face’s neck.
“I take it he enjoyed it,” came a chuckle and Face didn’t really know if he could be more embarrassed as Parker folded his arms, leaning against the gate.
“Yeah, he gets excited…” was all Face could think to say, even as he realized that fast heart beat wasn’t just his own he was feeling. He patted Murdock’s shoulder, prying the man away with not a little bit of regret, addressing the pilot now. “I take it you had fun?”
All he really needed was that bright smile on Murdock’s face for an answer. Naturally, he got a lot more. “Fun? Fun?? That wasn’t fun, Faceman, fun is too tame a word for such an experience. Marvelous, astounding, extraordinary, miraculous! It was a religious experience, Face, a testament to the gods themselves of the incomprehensible ability of the human spirit to prevail and overcome such a persuasive a thing as gravity!”
Parker snorted and gave Face a look, pushing off from the fence. “We’re all settled.”
“Thanks,” he nodded back, putting a hand on Murdock’s shoulder to guide the man to the car. “I owe you one.”
“A true affirmation of the ability of man and machine to rise in unifying harmony amongst nature’s most vast and noblest of limits-”
The sandy-haired man just smiled. “It’s fine. Just glad to see your friend had fun.”
And with that Parker turned and strode back to the waiting plane as Face opened the door for Murdock. The pilot was still going by the time he got in the car himself. All Face could do was chuckle as he fished for his keys, more than content to let the man talk. Especially when it was a litany of words said in that manic tone that always heralded a new obsession. Or in this case, an old one.
“Face, it was awesome,” Murdock finally wore himself out, slumping back into the seat with a distant, lopsided smile.
“Good,” said Face, putting the keys in the engine and smiling down at the steering wheel, congratulating himself on a job well done even if a part of him wished that kiss had been born from something more than manic joy. At least his mind would carry that brief moment with him forever, marred by an unparallel display of uncomfortable public affection, but that was Murdock.
“Face.” The insistent tone had him looking up, a brief spike of panic running through him.
Brown eyes flashing was all the warning he got as the pilot suddenly closed the distance and shut himself up with Face’s generous help in the form of a strong kiss.
This time, the shock had him pushing back immediately, bewildered. Last time it had just been excitement, not something to read into because this was Murdock, and Murdock was crazy. But words had failed Murdock again. And as he surveyed the man in front of him, suddenly the wary one, he found not hunched shoulders and distance but flushed cheeks and bright, shining brown eyes that were more focused than could be deemed possible for someone whose home address was the V.A. Psych Ward.
If there was a look of pure joy, Murdock had it. And in a blink of his eyes and a flash of epiphany, Face realized that that look of joy? He had put it there. He had been the one to bring back that passion to those expressive eyes. All him. Egotistical to think so? Perhaps. But there was his own version of joy growing inside at the idea that his efforts had been responsible for those liquid browns displaying crystal clear depths.
In a way, too, he was awed that he had this much power over the man.
How long had he had it?
"M-Murdock..." Face stammered out, uncertainty rising and the Vette suddenly a million degrees warmer than it should be.
The pilot just watched him, a smile growing. "So you do?"
"Do wh-what?"
"You know."
And he did. There was a long silence as he realized that thirty seconds had gone by and more had been asked than any direct question could accomplish. He simply stared, because leave it to Murdock to ask something so big in the most bizarre and unexpected way. Even for this subject matter.
Murdock was insane. Pure and simple. Then again, no sane man would be leaning back in, a hand cupping Face’s neck to gently coax him forward into a more tentative, more restrained kiss this time.
Stubble scraped skin, he could feel Murdock's heart in his chest, and though part of him gaffed at the fact that he hadn’t initiated this, that was ok. Because he was a little bit crazy too, come to think of it. Particularly as he leaned in unbidden, eyes sliding shut and his own hand finding the back of the pilot’s long neck. Time never really did speed up like he thought it would. But that was ok.
Because, for a moment, he felt like he was flying at the feeling of it all.
And really, he thought as Murdock shifted the angle, wasn’t that the spirit of all of this anyway?