EPILOGUE

Hannibal was awakened by the sound of gunfire, and fought the urge to hit the floor. It only took him a few seconds to realize that the sound had come from the television. His heart slowed gradually as he found the remote at the side of the hospital bed and turned it down. What a way to wake up…

His eyes drifted to the clock, and he realized he should be glad for the wakeup call. It was almost time for the nurse to come in and check on him. Hannibal would have to be gone when she got there. The routine was well-established: room check at 2000 and again at 0300 and then shift change at 0700. He usually just ducked behind the window curtains for the mid-shift check. But he was gone before the morning nurse came in.

Murdock had been transferred to the VA hospital in Chicago just as soon as the paperwork was sorted. Two months later, Decker had given up on the idea that anyone would come looking for him. The fact that Hannibal and Face were still living and operating in LA probably had something to do with that. Now the room was unguarded, and they both came and went as they pleased during the day – when they came out to Chicago. But the nurses didn't want them here at night. Hannibal came in through the window if he had to. And Face did the same thing on nights when he came up to the hospital.

Hannibal was also feeling guilty. He and Face had to work – in the three weeks of directionless waiting before they'd determined that fact, they almost killed each other while arguing over stupid shit on two separate occasions. Their base of operations had long ago been established in LA. But between jobs, they were always in Chicago. While in LA, nothing felt right anymore. In many respects, they were incapacitated by the fact that they were missing half of the team. When they came back to Chicago, they spent as much time at the hospital as they could.

Every time he walked – or climbed – in, Hannibal's mind played the same cruel trick on him. Maybe this time, Murdock would be awake. Maybe this time would be the beginning of recovering at least some of what they had lost. But it had been six months. Murdock hadn't woken up.

Hannibal paused at the window, looking out at the lightening sky to the east. Another day was dawning. Tomorrow they would go back to LA. They would say goodbye to BA's mother – with whom they had bonded rather closely since her son's death – and get on board a commercial flight back to the West Coast. Every time they did this monotonous routine, he hated it more. He closed his eyes as he took in a deep breath and let it out slow.

Murdock, I wish you'd just wake up…

***

Face didn't bother to stop off at the nurses' station. He had little interest in them. Instead, he walked directly to the door of Murdock's room and found it half open. As he stepped inside, he immediately knew something was different. It took him a moment to figure out what it was. The machines. The tubes. The one in Murdock's mouth was missing. Something had changed, for better or worse.

Face was torn between the logic of making a beeline for the nurses' station to find out exactly what had changed and the instinct to approach the bed and see for himself. He chose the latter, and stepped closer, carefully. "Murdock?"

He was hoping against hope, and he knew it. Just because Murdock was breathing on his own didn't mean that everything was all better again. Two weeks since he'd been in. What could change in two weeks? Face watched him carefully, reaching out a hand and placing it on his forehead. His skin was warm – warmer than it had been in months. Another flicker of hope. "Murdock? Are you awake?"

Face's heart leapt into his throat as he saw Murdock's eyelids flutter and slowly part. The rush of adrenaline was like parachuting out of a plane for the first time – freefalling to earth and knowing that the worst of it was over.

"Murdock! You're awake!"

"Nnnh... not so loud." His voice was weak and cracked, barely above a whisper. He winced as he turned his head away. "I feel like shit… Can't hardly move…"

"Thank God you're okay."

"Nnnh hnn..." He opened his eyes halfway. "I got a headache the size of Mount Everest, Face," he slurred. "So damn bright in here…"

It wasn't all that bright in the room. "Did they give you anything for it? Are you on painkillers?" Face immediately headed to the chart hanging at the foot of the bed.

"Nnnh, they gotta get a doctor's order to give me a Tylenol. And I didn't want the morphine."

Face stared at him for a moment. That seemed ridiculous. "I'll get you a Tylenol if you want it."

Murdock breathed deep, his chest rising and falling. He didn't answer the implied question. Eyes closed again, he continued in a whisper. "Has Decker been in here?"

"Not recently. You've been asleep for a long time, Murdock."

The mumble/growl/moan that answered him wasn't coherent. All he caught of it was something to the effect of "talk to him" and "drugged" and "don't worry." For Face, it was enough that Murdock was alive and speaking, regardless of what he was saying.

"I need to call Hannibal. He'll want to know you're awake."

"Hey, Face?"

Face paused with his hand on the phone. "What?"

Very slowly, Murdock's eyes opened and he tipped his head back to look up at the man standing over him. "You missed."

Face blinked, surprised and confused as he let his hand drop back to his side and turned to face Murdock. "What? Missed what?"

"The... the shot. You missed."

Face's first thought was of a hypodermic needle. It took him a moment to comprehend what Murdock was saying. When he did, his eyes widened.

"You never miss."

Face stared at him, dumbfounded. "You were awake for that?"

Murdock didn't answer the question. Instead, he posed one of his own. "Why'd you miss, Face?"

Face opened his mouth, then clamped it shut again as he came up short of an answer. A long, lingering silence filled the room, and Face lowered his eyes. He hadn't even thought of how he would answer that question; he had no reply ready.

"I..." he hesitated. "It... was raining. And I couldn't see very well and - "

"No," Murdock interrupted in something that sounded more like a moan than a word. Face looked up at him again and saw him staring back, his eyes half-lidded and tired. "No, Face. You missed." His voice dropped to a whisper as if it took too much effort to speak. "Why'd you miss?"

"I told you, I didn't - "

"Yeah, you told me, now tell me the truth."

Silence. "There's a reason you got assigned where you did. With who you did. There's a reason you made it to the team, Face." He gasped a few breaths, and shut his eyes hard with the effort. "You don't miss." But in spite of the obvious exhaustion, he reached up a hand – the one with tubes running into the back of it – and grabbed Face's jacket with a weak grip. He held it as he dragged his eyes up to meet his friend's. "Why'd you miss?"

Face took in a long, slow breath. How could he answer that? How could he possibly answer that? "I don't know," he finally offered. "I'm sorry."

Murdock let his hand drop, and breathed as deeply and slowly as he could. "Where is she?"

Face hesitated before answering. "She's gone," he finally assured his friend.

"Mmm." Murdock let his eyes slide closed. "Good. Face?"

"Hmm?"

"I think next time… I'm staying home."

Face lowered his head as he nodded, though he knew Murdock couldn't see. "I would too, if I were you," he admitted quietly.

Murdock turned his head away and took one more deep breath before he slowly, quietly, drifted off again.