indigo_angels

..4..

Sometimes missions are just fucked up from start to finish, and this, unfortunately was one of them. It had started with BA’s flat refusal to let Murdock fly them to the drop zone. He’d not flown with Murdock since Mexico. Hannibal, hearing the constant bitching between the two of them over Murdock’s flying skills had quietly explained to the pilot that they would be letting someone else do the honours for a little while, just until BA calmed down.

Face had been surprised that Murdock took it so well. He knew how much the pilot loved to fly, knew he’d not had much chance cooped up in that VA in Mexico, had expected him to be devastated, but he’d actually seemed quite chipper. That’s when Face found out that the boss had arranged for him to help test anything that came off the repair line. Of course he would do that, that was one of the reasons that Face loved his CO. Really loved him.

But, even over the last few missions with pilots that BA had vetted himself, he had been getting more and more anxious with every trip. Face had taken to strapping him in and double checking all his chute lines as he could see that BA’s hands were shaking too much to do a thorough job; Face knew what it was like to be so shit scared of something you couldn’t think straight...

Now though the test pilot gig had come to an end and Face had noticed Murdock getting a little twitchy, so Hannibal had obviously decided that it was time the corporal got back in the saddle; unfortunately BA didn’t agree. There had been one of those horrifically tense moments in the briefing when BA had looked Hannibal right in the eye and stated, “I aint flying with that fool, man.”

Face had seen Murdock wince and felt his own heart kick up a notch, but Hannibal had merely stared at his corporal for a good ten seconds before flicking his eyes over to Murdock and saying, “You need some jumps under your belt, Captain, how do you fancy a little free floating with us instead?”

Nicely done, Face thought relaxing slightly, if there was one thing that Murdock liked almost as much as flying, it was jumping. Excellent. Face decided he would feel so much better about this op if they were going in as a four rather than a three.

But when it came down to it, he didn’t. The intel was sketchy, no satellite images, just hand drawn plans, and a very, very tight window to work in.

“Remind me again,” he yelled to Hannibal over the roar of the plane’s engines, “why we only have two hours to get in and out?”

Hannibal gave him a hard stare; they’d been over this point too many times already.

“Cos if we don’t Faceman,” it was Murdock that answered, “those allied bombers will blow us to pieces! Boom!!!”

Face didn’t really need the actions to demonstrate the point.

He looked back as Hannibal spoke, “I told you kid, we have to do this just before the air strike so that no one notices the stuff is missing,” he tapped the side of his nose, “Stealth, remember!”

Face sighed and turned away. Stealth, yeah. But he still felt really uneasy about the whole thing.

The jump went fine, Face could never understand why BA didn’t mind the jumping, only the flying, but there you go, when was fear ever rational? And listening to Murdock singing Tom Petty’s ‘Free Fallin’ ‘ as he drifted down actually made him smile, but as the ground approached and Murdock fell silent, Face’s stomach began to churn once more.

They regrouped, every one of them totally focussed now and moved steadily out to the edge of the compound, and that’s when it all started to unravel.

“Shit, Hannibal!” Face hissed, voicing what Hannibal had already noticed, “this is nothing like those plans we were given! I told you we needed satellite images!”

“And you were right. Feel better?”

Face didn’t flinch at the harsh tone to Hannibal’s voice, this was just the way it went on missions.

“How we gonna find the gate? Split up?”

Hannibal considered their options for all of five seconds before shaking his head, “No. We find the gate together and stick with the plan, come on.”

They merged into the shadows at the base of the wall and scouted around to the left.

“There,” after ten minutes BA’s voice in his ear cut through the silence and Face saw the outline of the massive gate looming through the darkness, “looks like the same type we were expecting. Murdock?”

“I’m here, I’m here, out of the way Big Guy, you’re blocking my light.”

BA moved back, grumbling under his breath as he did and Murdock crouched at the control panel for the gate, flicking his night vision goggles down and getting to work. Hannibal and BA took up defensive positions either side while Face dropped next to him. “Okay buddy? You got this? Does it look like the one you’ve been practising on?”

“Face...” Murdock replied, “I got this,” he never took his eyes off the control panel as he worked, “What is wrong with you, man?”

Face leant back against the wall and wiped the sweat from his forehead, “Nothing!” he heard BA’s snort in his earpiece, “I just have a bad feeling, that’s all...”

“A bad feeling?” The derision in BA’s voice was unmissable, “You gonna bring bad shit down on us Faceman with all your doom and gloom!”

Moving back from the wall as he heard the gate’s lock click Face narrowed his eyes. “Yeah? Well at least I don’t piss my pants every time I need to fly...”

“Enough.” Hannibal’s voice silenced them both, “Focus. HM, stay alert, and listen for the signal. Boys? Let’s move.”

Three shapes slipped silently through the gate which slid shut behind them and melted instantly into the shadows.

“Shit!” Again BA’s voice hissed in his ear, “this aint right either, boss!”

“Face,” Hannibal ignored his corporal, “Which one, kid?”

Frowning at the rubbish intel they had been given, Face ran his eyes over the motley collection of buildings in front of him. He knew why Hannibal was asking him to make the call; he was the one who remembered pictures, sounds, images. That’s why he was so good with languages, if he saw something, heard something, he could remember it. If he had to read it... not so good. Hannibal on the other hand always saw the big picture, a shifting, fluid whole, which was why he was so good at looking ahead, planning for eventualities, morphing his plan as he went along. Face was all about detail.

“That one,” he said, indicating a squat building to the left.

“You sure?” BA snapped.

“He is,” Hannibal answered and they moved out.

They didn’t see a soul as Face jimmied the lock and they slid into the dark corridor beyond. Silently they moved in, Face taking the lead, the interior plan of the building, mercifully accurate it seemed, firmly planted in his head. They came to a corner and Face backed up against the wall, BA opposite him while Hannibal cleared the corner first. The shouts were an undesirable welcome...

Hannibal’s gun spoke twice, the suppressor doing its job well. Stealth... Face remembered as he and BA swung round the corner, his heart sinking as more men barrelled out of a room across the corridor, pulling out their own guns as Hannibal dropped to his knee and fired again. Fortunately, the Rangers had the advantage of preparation and suppressed shots sounded over and over in the confined space as men fell at a horrific rate.

The door to BA’s left then opened. Both BA and Face turned to look into the shocked expressions of the guards who stood there before they doubled back and fled down the stairwell.

BA took off immediately after them, Face glanced back at Hannibal who nodded at him as he searched through the pile of bodies in the hallway, and he followed, leaping down steps three at a time trying to catch the big guy up.

They were on the next landing down, BA’s gun nowhere to be seen as he staggered under the assault of all three of them at once. Face launched himself from midway up the flight above and landed with a thud on the backs of two of the guards, giving BA the chance to quickly dispatch the third.

Face hit his head on the concrete steps as he landed and was dazed for a moment, just long enough for the guard to recover more quickly and haul him to his feet before shoving him backwards down the next flight of stairs. Face grabbed desperately for the banister, but it slipped through his finger tips as he went down, crashing into the steps on his back then flipping over and landing on his ribs before slamming into the wall at the next landing, feeling all the air rush out of his lungs as he came to an abrupt stop.

His head was swimming and he was struggling to persuade his lungs to work as he forced his eyes open in time to watch BA make quick work of the two remaining guards. In seconds the big guy was at his side, running his hands over his lieutenant, movements quick and efficient.

“Anything broken?” he asked already trying to pull Face to his feet.

“No, don’t think- fuck! ow...” Face muttered as he rose, leaning heavily on BA. His eye was stinging and he wiped at it, his hand coming away covered in blood, “Fuck...” he muttered again.

BA took hold of his head and looked for the source of the blood, “It’s just a scratch,” he reported, trying to see if Face could stand on his own, “C’mon, we’re on the clock here...”

“Fucking clock...” Face moaned, leaning on the banister instead of BA, “Fucking stairs... Fucking stupid intel...”

Seeing he was managing on his own, BA turned and took back off up the steps, and that’s when Face noticed the blood down his back. “Hey, BA,” he winced as he forced his aching body back up the stairs he’d just bounced down, “What’s happened to your back?”

BA didn’t pause, “One of them fuckers had a knife. It’s okay. Just a scratch.”

“Lot of fucking scratches today...” Face moaned as he reached the top of the stairs.

“Forty minutes to fireworks, chaps...”

Murdock’s voice sounded in his ear piece and he shook his head, “This whole gig is a piece of fucking shit...”

Opening the door to the corridor and following BA back out he found that the boss had been busy, dragging all the bodies into a room off the corridor and wiping away as much of the blood as he could. They looked at each other, Hannibal had heard everything over the comms link, knew Face was a little banged up but walking wounded, wanted to assess with his own eyes. Face had no such info and his eyes raked over the boss, landing on the blood soaking the arm of his shirt.

“Stray bullet,” Hannibal told him, noticing where Face was staring, “One of mine, ricochet, it’s just a graze.”

Face nodded and turned back to the door in front of them, back to the task in hand, “Should be in here. Shall we?”

The room was empty of guards. Of course it was, all those inside had piled out into the corridor and right into Hannibal’s bullets without raising the alarm. Stupid, but convenient.

The computer was on the back wall, still switched on, still logged in. BA made his way over to it , pulling the flash drive from his pocket as he went as Hannibal and Face moved back to the door, Face putting his ear against the metal while Hannibal stood just behind him, gun at the ready.

“You okay, kid?” Hannibal murmured, ever aware of the comms link, his finger tips just brushing the skin between Face’s sleeve and gloves.

Face nodded, keeping his ear on the corridor outside.

“Told you the plan would work...” there was no missing the gentle teasing in Hannibal’s voice, but Face was still too strung out to respond.

“Not out of this shit yet, boss...” he whispered, glancing to where BA was frantically typing on the keyboards.

“Gents...” Murdock’s voice interrupted them, “Thirty minutes...”

Face’s eyes flicked up to Hannibal who quickly turned to BA, “Corporal?”

“Almost done, boss, almost done...” Face could see the progress bar on the screen creeping its way up to 100%, “Done!”

BA snatched the flash drive from the USB and stuffed it in his pocket as he turned for the door, Face was already out, covering the whole area with his gun, Hannibal let BA go in front of him, then moved out as well.

“Go, Face!” Face didn’t need telling twice.

Progress along the corridor was slow. They needed to get out unseen, it was vitally important that no one knew this data had been compromised. In just less than thirty minutes, allied air strikes would wipe out any evidence that an Alpha Team had been anywhere near the facility, but all of that would be ruined if someone managed to make a call out of here now, alerting their superiors to the fact that the computer system had been infiltrated.

Everything remained quiet. Face passed the door leading to the stairwell where he and BA had grappled with the guards and flattened himself against the wall peering round the corner. All clear. He looked back to give the clear signal to the others and froze as he noticed the door from the stairwell creeping open.

Everything happened at once. Face barked a warning and swung his own gun round just as the door opened with a pale, bloodstained guard leaning against it. Hannibal and BA both readied their own weapons as a crack sounded from Face’s gun and the guard’s hand flicked out milliseconds before his head exploded in a flash of red. Hannibal seemed to gasp and take a step back into the wall, and when Face looked up from making sure his mark was dead, his blood froze at the sight of the knife sticking out of Hannibal’s chest, just above the top of his body armour.

“Holy fuck...” BA breathed.

Hannibal’s hand went to the knife hilt and grabbed hold of it, his eyes locking with Face’s as he slowly slid down the wall, stopping as his butt hit the floor.

“Jesus Christ!” Face exclaimed, snapping into action and dropping to Hannibal’s side, “No, don’t touch it John,” he whispered, his hand wrapping over Hannibal’s, “leave it in, it’s better. You know that, right? Leave it in...”

Face pressed his hand over the wound, pushing hard, the knife blade in the gap between index and middle finger while he rummaged with his right hand through his pockets looking for field dressings. He heard BA’s steady voice in his ear piece as the big guy stood guard over them, “We got the package but the boss has taken a knife, fly boy, we need to be getting out of here fast. You got that gate ready?”

There was just enough of a pause to make Face’s heart stutter before Murdock’s voice came back, “Sure thing big guy. Fireworks start in nineteen, that’s one nine, minutes.”

“Fucking hell...” Face muttered, frantically taping dressings in place over Hannibal’s chest, watching as they turned red under his fingers.

“Face,” that was BA’s urgent voice, “We got to get out of here, man...”

“I fucking know!” Face exploded, “But I need to get this bleeding stopped!”

“Kid,” Hannibal’s voice was quiet, but he didn’t seem to be struggling to breathe which reassured Face that the knife had missed his lung. He had felt it was high enough to avoid both lungs and heart, but it was uncomfortably close to where he knew the axillary artery ran, and if that was the case, the boss could bleed out in minutes... “Kid!” Face forced his eyes up to meet his CO’s. “Leave it. Help me up, we need to go now...”

“But boss!” Face knew he was whining, “I need to get this bleeding stopped otherwise...” he didn’t even want to think of the ‘otherwise’.

But Hannibal knew exactly what he was thinking, “If we don’t move out, in nineteen minutes we will all be dead, now come on. Get me up. BA?”

BA was over in a second, dragging Hannibal up by his arm, ignoring the boss’s gasps of pain and Face’s scowl, then he returned to take point as Face pulled Hannibal’s left arm over his shoulder and Hannibal folded his right arm across his own chest, trying to hold the dressings in place around the knife.

“Okay,” Face growled through gritted teeth, “Let’s go.”

Nineteen minutes can run down very quickly. Face was trying to count down in his head as they moved out, but it was difficult, almost carrying Hannibal, keeping his gun at the ready in case they ran into more trouble, trusting in BA one hundred percent to keep them going the right way. By his count they had fifteen minutes left as they exited the building, twelve as they slid out through the gates, stepping over the bodies that were evidence of Murdock’s own adventures that night and eight as the first sharp cracks of gunfire followed them over the scrub.

Face couldn’t return fire, he needed both his arms to hold onto to Hannibal now as it seemed that the boss had slipped under. Instead he crouched behind a bush, holding him close, one hand applying direct pressure, hoping that Murdock and BA could provide enough cover to keep the heat off them.

“John,” he whispered right in Hannibal’s ear above the sounds of the gunfire, “Stay with me, hey? Don’t leave me, you know I can’t do this without you... John?”

There was no answer so Face laid him down, ignoring the gunfire chewing up the scrub around him, they were getting closer...

Face could see in the lights from the compound that Hannibal was pale and sweaty, his breath was fast and shallow and Face’s fingers could only find a weak, rapid pulse; he knew then that the boss was in shock. They were pinned down behind a tiny scrubby bush, one hundred metres from a compound that was soon to be blasted sky high by a squadron of bombers and over a kilometre away from the FRV. Face let out a long sigh, things weren’t looking good...

“John,” he whispered again, aware that every word he said was being relayed to Murdock and BA, “Stay with me boss, please?” He felt stupid tears threaten his eyes and dropped down to kiss Hannibal’s lips gently, trying to get through somehow.

Incredibly, it seemed to work, “I’m here...” Hannibal’s voice was like a breath against Face’s lips, “My boy, I’m here...”

“Face!” Murdock’s voice yelled in his ear piece, “Get him up, the bombers are coming, we got to get out now, go, go, go!”

Face lifted his head as he heard an engine gunning for their point and was amazed to see BA thundering a jeep in his direction, Murdock standing in the back, hanging on for dear life and looking back all the while at the compound, expecting it to blow at any second.

Jumping to his feet, Face lifted Hannibal in his arms as if he weighed nothing, and laid him in the back of the jeep, climbing in after him, laying full length against his boss’s body, trying to cushion him from the bumpy ride he knew they were expecting.

“Go BA!” Murdock yelled and BA was off. Face just held on as they were thrown all over in the back of the jeep. He heard the sounds of the bombing behind them and could even feel the heat and the blast of explosions as debris rained down around them. At every second he was expecting to be blown sky high as one of their jets spotted them trying to escape and thought they were hostiles, but the explosion never materialised.

Instead he hung onto Hannibal tightly and kept his hand pressed firmly around the knife, trying not to freak out about the wet warmth he could feel seeping through his fingers. Then they stopped and he could hear the rotors of a chopped behind him, feel BA dragging both him and Hannibal out of the jeep and towards their pickup, and then Hannibal was in BA’s arms, Face’s hand still in place, and they were running for the chopper.

Murdock already had the medical kit ready, and had a line in Hannibal’s arm before they had even taken off. Face just kept up the steady pressure, his blue eyes boring straight into Hannibal’s all the time, so that every time the boss’s eyes flicked open, Face was all he could see, letting Murdock and BA do all the other work, checking BP, temperature, breathing rate, Murdock reporting back to base all the time so that they would be ready for him when they landed. But Face was no fool, he could see that Hannibal was slipping away. It seemed that no matter what he did, the blood just kept coming, Hannibal’s eyes were opening less and less and he could hear the anxiety in Murdock’s voice kick up a gear.

“Talk to him!” BA yelled, bumping his fist into Face’s shoulder, and so Face did, forcing away his own mind numbing horror at the possibility that he might lose the entire reason for his existence, and talked on, pleading with Hannibal to stay with him, telling him how much he needed the older man, ordering him to keep breathing, keep his heart beating, keep fighting.

It was the most horrific chopper ride of his life.

When they reached the base it was all a bit of a blur. Face refused to be pushed away from Hannibal, his hand still pressed down around the knife and the medics knew it was best if he stayed until they were ready to take over. He jogged alongside the gurney and into the OR eyes only for his boss’s face as people surged around him, blood lines attached, wires on his chest, but Hannibal’s eyes hadn’t opened for almost ten minutes now. Face had been counting, still counting from the expected air strike, the counting the only thing that was keeping him from losing his mind.

Then there were hands on him, pulling him away, sliding his bloodied fingers from around that damn knife and trying to manhandle him away from the boss and Face just snapped. Started fighting back, yelling, trying to get back to Hannibal’s side. All he knew was that the boss wouldn’t die if Face was there forbidding it, that he would do whatever it took to stay. Once Face went... he couldn’t bear to think about that.

But then the hands were gentle, firm, but gentle, and there was a voice in his ear and a hand on his cheek and all the fight drained out of him. He just turned and buried his face in Murdock’s shoulder, let BA’s hands push him out of the room and ease him onto a chair and there he stayed, Murdock’s hand in his bloodied hair, BA’s arm around his shoulders, for the four hours that Hannibal was in surgery.

While they waited, no one went anywhere near them. At one point a young nurse headed over to offer some medical attention as all three of them had obviously been through it that night; but BA looked up at her when she approached and she’d thought better of it.

Eventually though, the surgery was done, and they were told they could see Hannibal for five minutes on the proviso that they then had their own wounds looked at and let the medical staff get on without further interruption. Murdock and BA readily agreed but Face held back. In his head he could still see Hannibal as he had been on that gurney. Pale, still, minutes from death... What if the nurse was wrong, what if he hadn’t made it? But he couldn’t articulate those thoughts into words so BA and Murdock just grabbed an arm each and hauled him through the doors.

Face had almost laughed when eventually saw Hannibal. In the reflection on the side of the vending machine, Face had seen how bad he looked, bloodied, bruised, filthy, torn, pale, exhausted. In comparison Hannibal looked incredible. His colour was much better, blood still dripping into him one drop at a time, he was clean and apart from the neat white dressing at the top of his chest, he was untouched. Face shook his head, wondering at the strength of his man to make it so close to the edge and come back again, so, so fast.

_______________________________________

Such a little mark for such a close shave... Face’s fingers gently rest on the white knife wound, tentative, as if he is worried it will open up again. The blade had caught the axillary artery, but only nicked it. Two millimetres to the right and there is no doubt that Hannibal would have been dead before they had made it out of the compound. He’d have died in Face’s arms, left him alone to try and carry on by himself. Face still has nightmares, three or four times a week, where that’s exactly what happens...

Suddenly there’s a hand in his hair and he looks up, surprised that Hannibal’s face is blurred and blinks back the unwelcome tears from his eyes. He forces out a smile but the compassion and love shining from his boss’s eyes doesn’t falter at all.

“I didn’t leave you, kid...” he murmurs, knowing his boy so well, he can almost read his mind, “Don’t look so sad. I’m still here...”

Face, caught out in his maudlin thoughts, is embarrassed and drops his head back to Hannibal’s chest, “I know, boss...” he mutters and determinedly ignores Hannibal’s gaze even though he can feel it on the top of his head. He reaches a hand out and lightly dusts across the sprinkling of hairs that runs down towards the waistband of Hannibal’s shorts as his eyes fall on another scar, this time on his stomach, this time the memory not quite so traumatic...

Next scar...