By The Chronicler
He hurt all over. Bruises, cuts, scrapes, maybe even a broken finger or two, and defiantly a few cracked ribs... on the right side. Left side ribs just bruised.
He had turned away when he had started kicking him there. Rolled up in a ball, trying to protect himself from the blows.
He musta thought there wasn't anything more fists and boots could do to him. So, he opened up that dark, cold, black hole. Without so much as a "G' day, mate," he tossed in the thin, broken, bloody body. Without so much as a "tootles," he slammed the door closed.
It took one hit of the hammer for each nail to be driven into place. Bang. Bang. Bang. BANG! Eight nails. Eight nails was all that stood between him and the light of life. Eight, goddamn, little nails!
But all he could do was cry, plea, beg "please, pa, don't leave me..."
A sharp pain burned across the palm of his hand.
Murdock blinked, his memories flickering away. Curiously, he turned his head and glanced down to where Hannibal was sitting on the bed beside him, wrapping his right hand.
"How bad is it?" Face was asking as he hovered near by, running his fingers nervously through his hair.
"Mild lacerations." Hannibal answered, taping the bandage into place. "He wasn't hurt that bad. A bump on the head... probably how they got him into that thing. He got these working on the inside of that coffin before the air ran out." He shook his head. "Buried alive..." he snarled.
"Colonel!" Face spoke sharply. When Hannibal glanced at him, he nodded toward Murdock. "He's awake."
Hannibal's gray eyes snapped about to find his Captain blinking up at him like a small child waiting patiently for answers. He breathed a sigh of relief. Hannibal would of never let Face nor BA know, but that head wound and the lack of air had seriously worried him. Seeing those eyes gazing up at him...
God! Murdock was alive! He was gonna be alright! His team was whole again...
Hannibal's thoughts paused as Murdock slowly turned his head away without a word to gaze at the blank, hotel boring wall with that same small child waiting patiently for answers look.
That was wrong.
Too excite at seeing his best friend awake at all, Face hurried to the other side of the bed and crouched down so he could be eye level with him. "Hey, HM, scared the shit out of me! Do you know what it took to dig you out? I've got blisters! Me!"
"Face..." Hannibal cautioned.
"Damn, buddy." Face continued. "Come on, get up, get dressed. Whatever you want for breakfast! I'm buying!"
Murdock blinked at him, then turned his head to gaze up at the ceiling.
Face frowned. "Hey... Murdock?" he tried again, softly. Panic suddenly took grip. "You're fine, Murdock. They couldn't kill you." he hurriedly assured. "They couldn't hurt you. We got there in time. You're gonna be just fine! Just tell me what you want to eat. I'll get it. I'll bring it here if you don't want to get up! Murdock!"
"Lieutenant!" Hannibal snapped.
Face's wide, blue eyes jerked up to stare at his Colonel. "Sir?" he whispered, instinctively retreating to the comfort of chain of command.
Hannibal nodded once. "How about french toast with peanut butter and cinnamon." he suggested one of Murdock's favorite breakfasts. Something that would keep Face busy in the kitchen for a little bit.
Face slowly rose to his feet. "Yes, sir." he answered. Glancing down at his friend, he offered "Fresh and hot, just for you, buddy." Then he turned and, walking with a stiff back as if he was forcing himself, he left the room.
When the door was closed behind him, Hannibal turned his attention back to his Captain. "Murdock?" he called softly, hoping he would answer on his own.
Murdock blinked, but continued to stare at the ceiling.
The Colonel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This wasn't the first time he had seen Murdock like this. Goddamn, he had thought he never would see him like this again. But, being buried alive... a sane man would of lost it.
But, no matter how lost Murdock had ever gotten, he had always had an anchor, something to hold on to, something that kept him linked to reality, even, at times, in just the smallest of ways. What Hannibal needed to do was get him to grab a hold of that anchor, face what had pushed him astray, and drag himself back... back to Hannibal, to the team, to life.
Placing a hand on the bed on either side of Murdock's head, Hannibal leaned over and directly in the Captain's line of sight. "Murdock!" he said in a strong, commanding tone, demanding that the man focus on him.
Again Murdock blinked. He started to turn his head aside.
"Captain, look at me!" Hannibal snapped the order, grabbing his chin and turning his head back to him. "Look at me! Don't you stop looking at me!"
Murdock obeyed, more out of practice than any real understanding of what was going on. He was gone, away, lost in his own little world. A little world without any walls, without any dark corners, and always warm. it was just him and no one else. No one to hurt him, nor lock him away, nor lose... No pain, nor comfort, no tears, no laughter, no nothing.
If only the Colonel would just go away.
Hannibal could feel Murdock's jaw stiffen and pull ever so slightly against his grip.
Good. Good, he was considering doing something. Even is he didn't know what yet, he was considering it.
"I'm not going to let you go, Murdock." he told his man. "Just like last time. Remember last time? The camp. They took you away for days. Put you in the hole for wise cracking one of the guards. Remember?"
The slight pull turned into a flinch, but Hannibal didn't let him move.
"You didn't want to come back then either. But you did." he continued. "We needed you. We still need you. Don't you leave us! You're job isn't done, soldier!"
It was hurting. The bastard had reached into his world, grabbed him by the chin, and was hurting him! The invasion... it dragged the outside in with it, the walls and the dark corners... the memories... damn it, no!
Hannibal could feel Murdock's breathing increase. Good, good. He was getting to him.
"Snap out of it, soldier! You climbed out of that hole. You can climb out of this one!"
Murdock tried to turn his head, but Hannibal's grip tightened. The struggle was getting to be too much. The warmth was escaping through the dark, tight holes that the Colonel was punching through his safe, little world. Damn it, shut up' he wanted to scream. But, he knew, the only way to tell that bastard off was to step out of his world and back into that big, ugly, painful, shitty reality... and, please god, he just didn't want to do that! He didn't want to go back!
"You're better than this. You're stronger." Hannibal encouraged. "What about Face and BA? What would they do without you? You're the only person Face never lies to. And BA... you remind him that not everything can be solved with his fists. They need you. I need you."
Murdock could hear the plea in his voice. A new pain ripped into his little world. Facey! BA! Hannibal! No, he didn't want to leave them... but it was safe here... warm... comfortable... He squeezed his eyes closed.
Suddenly his world was back, with a few whisps out of place. But that was okay. He could fix it. Keep eyes closed, don't listen, and the outside world simply was not there any longer.
And nothing else out there existed.
Hannibal stiffened. "Open your eyes!" he commanded, but was ignored. "Captain, I'm ordering you!" His voice raised. Oh god, he was slipping away again!
Hannibal grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Captain H.M. Murdock! I will not let hell have you!"
Murdock's hand snapped up, wrapping around the Colonel's wrist.
John Hannibal Smith froze. He looked down at the hand gripping his wrist so tightly that his hand was already turning red. He looked up at his man again.
Eyes, red and shiny, glared up at him full of anger, hate, and loss. A torn and rough voice growled "Shut up!"
Hannibal nearly collapsed with the flood of relief. He had broken through. Murdock had climbed his way out, if for no other reason than to tell him off. Hannibal knew it was just a beginning, that they were gonna have a long, hard recovery, but recover they would, and they would do it together.
Slowly, as if crawling out of a box, Murdock rolled over on his side, wrapping himself around Hannibal's arm. He buried his face in the bed, his shoulders shaking gently. He was crying.
Hannibal settled on the edge of the bed, letting him cry, while he ran his free hand over Murdock's shoulders. "It's alright, H.M. You're right where you belong... you're with us. We'll take care of you." he promised.
And damn any man to a slow and painful death at the the hands of Colonel John Hannibal Smith who dared to say otherwise!
Climbing out of the Hole The End