Chapter Text
The escape plan worked like a charm. Their captor, Kipling, came to find them that morning, except this time, they were nowhere to be found. And neither was the specialist, nor anyone else for that matter. The man walked into his compound only to find his people tied up and all of his prisoners missing. What a gift for Christmas Day.
Hannibal watched from a distance, through binoculars that Face had acquired. A grin plastered itself on his face as he watched Kipling yell and kick and punch at the air. They left Kipling where he was and limped back to base, specialist in tow. The guy’s name was - legitimately - Fred Flintstone. Well, Frederick, anyway. Who knew that was a real last name someone could have? Murdock had started doing a great imitation of Barney Rubble. Luckily for him, Fred had a sense of humor and even played along with his own imitation. It was actually a great way to pass the time.
Eventually, though, they got back to base and the play had to stop. Hannibal delivered Fred to the general, made his report, and slogged his way to his tent. He had just taken off his shoes when a young corporal burst into his tent.
“Sir, there’s a fight!” He yelled, chest heaving. He must have run here.
“Okay, there are multiple sergeants, staff sergeants, majors, and captains here. Why on earth did you come to me?”
“It’s–” the man gasped, swallowed, and tried again. “It’s your men, sir. They’re in the mess hall.”
The corporal hadn’t gotten past the word ‘your’ when Hannibal had leapt up and ran to the scene. There was, indeed, a fight happening. Or there had been. The entire area was eerily still, a couple of tables over turned. One table was broken down the middle with a small mass of bodies on top of it. Face and BA seemed to be in the middle of it all, blood running down their faces. The lieutenant’s from his nose and from the cut above the sergeant’s eye. BA had been dogpiled by a number of soldiers. Face had one arm back, ready to punch but motionless. Hannibal followed their gazes to the object of everyone’s fascination.
Murdock had one man pinned on the table next to them. The crazed look in his eyes did not bode well when paired with the kitchen knife pressed against the other man’s throat. He had the man trapped by body and by gravity.
“You leave my buddies alone,” he said, deathly soft. Every movement he made was deliberate, as if he were flying a plane. Very, very deliberate.
“Wh—you—you wouldn’t—“
“I would. I’m Howling Mad Murdock, remember? Hey, that even matches my initials. H.M. “Howlin’ Mad” Murdock, huh?”
“Murdock,” Hannibal said slowly. The captain looked up as if nothing was remotely wrong. “What are you doing?”
“He called Face and BA stupid for being my friend,” Murdock replied, as if that was an obvious reason for threatening someone’s life and made all the sense in the world. When Hannibal didn’t say anything, he went on. “Maybe they shouldn’t be my friends, but they’re not stupid.”
“Okay…and why does that warrant a knife to the throat?”
“Huh…” Murdock looked down at what he was doing, cocking his head to the side. Hannibal risked stepping a little closer.
“Can I have the knife, please?”
“Oh. Sure.” Murdock made no move to hand it over, but he didn’t stop Hannibal from taking it either. The man shoved Murdock into the colonel and scrambled away. Blood ran from the shallow cut on his neck, which he gingerly covered with his fingers.
“Thank you, Murdock. Now, why don’t we just take a little walk, huh?”
“Okay, then. Come on, Billy!”
“Billy?”
“My new dog, Colonel! He’s just a little guy. I found him under the table!”
This seemed like one of Murdock’s bits, but Hannibal glanced around, just in case this was a real dog. Face met his gaze and gave a subtle shake of the head. Not real, then.
“All right, Murdock. Why don’t you go to my quarters, and I’ll meet you there? I need to have a word with everyone.”
“Okay, Colonel!” Murdock practically skipped out of the room. Hannibal turned back to look at his other two boys.
“Get up. You want to explain what just happened?”
They both tried speaking at the same time, as well as several other men. Hannibal yelled at them to shut up, then gestured to Face before realizing the lieutenant couldn’t actually speak very well. The way his jaw was swelling, he may very well have a fractured jaw on top of everything else from the last couple of days. Hannibal gestured to BA instead.
“We was just tryin’ t’ eat, and Murdock said he heard a dog, and he started t’ howl. We got ‘im to quiet down pretty quick, but then these guys started howlin’ back at him. They was laughin’ at him, and you know how Murdock is. Fool didn’t even realize they was makin’ fun of him. We told ‘em to leave him alone, and they just kept doin’ it.”
“...So you attacked them?”
“No,” said Face, his words barely recognizable. “Dey shtarted meshin’ wish him.”
“He was gettin’ real freaked out, Hannibal. They were touchin’ him and gettin’ in his face. We tried to make it stop, then Murdock...well…”
“Hey, come on, we were just playing,” someone said. Hannibal was pretty sure it was the same guy Murdock had pinned. “We didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Just playing. You know, I’m pretty sure Murdock was just playing, right guys?”
“Yessir.”
“Yesh shir.”
“He didn’t mean anything by it.” Hannibal’s gaze turned deadly. “Do not mess with my men again. Any of you. Touch any of them again, and I won’t hesitate.”
“Hesitate to what, sir?” Someone else asked.
“Mess with them, and you’ll find out.” Hannibal nodded toward the door. “Come on, guys.”
BA and Face were silent as Hannibal led them to his own quarters. Inside, Murdock played with his invisible dog, making cooing sounds at him. He smiled when he noticed them.
“Ain’t Billy just the cutest?”
“There ain’t no dog there, fool.”
“Yes there is,” Murdock rolled his eyes, his hands making petting motions in the air. “Weird joke, BA.”
“Joke?” BA gave Hannibal a concerned look. Face as well, although it was hard to tell around all the swelling. Hannibal decided to address the biggest problems first, namely Face’s face.
“Stay here.”
Hannibal picked up a lot of ice from the mess hall, then, after a moment of thought, decided to grab the boys’ bedding. His quarters weren’t giant, but they could fit everyone. And after the last few days, maybe he’d let them all sleep in tomorrow. It would be one great big sleep over. Only the best were invited.
“Man, that guy’s crazy!” Someone laughed, and Hannibal stopped outside the tent. “Howling and crap. I can’t believe he actually thought there was a dog.”
“Are you sure? I think he was messin’ with us.”
“Nah, man, did you see the look on his face? He definitely thought there was a dog. Thought he was gonna start panting and trying to sniff the thing’s ass.”
“Wait, are you guys talking about Murdock?” A new voice asked. “Hey, you know, he’s actually pretty nice. You shouldn’t talk about him like that.”
“Oh, come on, Gillespie. You’re as sick of him as the rest of us.”
“Yeah, well, maybe he doesn’t deserve the crap we’ve been giving him. I mean, think about it…has he even done anything back? At all?”
“He literally put a knife to Canson’s throat like ten minutes ago.”
“What’d Canson do?”
“That’s the first thing you say? Not ‘is Canson okay?’ Or ‘that’s messed up?’”
“Yes! Because they’ve been here for a little over a week, counting their mission thing, and everyone’s said something to the guy. They’ve poked and prodded. Punched, even, when those other two aren’t looking. And Murdock, crazy as he is, didn’t do anything! He walked it off, laughed it off, shook it off. Over and over again. Am I feeling a little guilty for participating? Sure! But I’m trying to do better, and so should you.”
“Get a load of this guy,” the first voice said. “He’s holier-than-thou. Think you’re better than us Gillespie?”
“No. But I’m going to be.”
Hannibal cleared his throat, trying to ignore the ice bag melting down his side. He should have wrapped it in a towel.
“Gentlemen. Everyone except Gillespie stand up.” The men did as they were told. “Now, pick that stuff up.”
If they were going to talk about his men like that, they could carry their stuff for him. There were three men in total, which was perfect. Hannibal made them load up everything - the cots, the bedding, the small chests that held their meager belongings. Away they traipsed, until Hannibal had them drop the stuff just inside his tent. His boys looked confused, but didn’t question it. Then, Hannibal led the morons to the trees at the edge of the base.
“Well, hop to it.”
“…hop to what, sir?”
“Get on up there,” Hannibal replied, adding a touch of a southern twang. He patted the tree next to him. “Go on.”
The men exchanged a look, but climbed up anyway. Once they were each secure on their own branches, Hannibal nodded.
“Yep. That’s perfect. Hope you’re all comfortable, because this is where you’re sleeping tonight! You stay there till I come and get you.”
“What?!”
“That’s not fair!”
Hannibal gave them his best colonel glare, which shut them up pretty quickly.
“What’s not fair is that my guys have to deal with people like you. They shouldn’t have to be harassed to the point of fighting just to survive as part of the same army you’re in. We’re all Americans here. There’s no room for infighting if we’re going to win this war.”
“Yes, sir,” all three muttered. Hannibal gave them a warning look, and they all barked the words louder. Hannibal nodded and walked away, realizing that the bag of ice was now half melted. Oops. He should have handed it off to Face earlier. Sighing, he made his way back to the mess hall and then back to his quarters, where the boys had already begun settling in.
“What do you three think you’re doing?”
“Uh…making our beds?” Murdock said, suddenly unsure of his actions.
“Not without leaving a path to my cot, you’re not. Make room.”
Hannibal nudged the cots a little closer to the walls as he made his way through. BA ignored them both in favor of fluffing his pillow. Face didn’t even bother with the cot. He’d sprawled out on the ground, covered by a single blanket and his mouth hanging open, but definitely wasn’t asleep. The pain of his beaten face must have caught up with him. His poor jaw was purple now, but at least his eye wasn’t any worse than what Kipling had done to him yesterday. Or this morning. Had that really been just this morning?
“Here, Face,” Hannibal wrapped the ice bag in a spare shirt and let the lieutenant take it. Face moaned when it first made contact, but relaxed once it started taking effect. Hannibal would have to make sure he didn’t suffocate when he inevitably fell asleep with that over his face.
Murdock, meanwhile, had finished putting his bed together, although he left a shirt curled up to the side. Everyone watched as he climbed into his covers, then patted the shirt and beckoned his new dog up.
“Come on, Billy. Come on. You can sleep right here.” Murdock chuckled, shaking his head. “Aw, you’re too small to get up, huh? Well, hang on.”
The captain leaned halfway off the cot, scooped up air, and deposited it in the little shirt nest. And then he went right to sleep. It was almost cute, what with Murdock’s firetruck pajamas and the way he reached out in his sleep to clutch the shirt to his chest. Face had found those for him when he came back from that CIA op that none of them knew about. Even Murdock didn’t know about it, since he couldn’t remember a lick of it. Those pajamas had been a blessing. Something nice and comfy to counteract whatever had happened during the week he was gone.
“We all agree he ain’t normal, right?”
“I’ no’ li’ we c’n do any’ing a’ou’ i’, ‘ough.”((It’s not like we can do anything about it))
“Quit talkin’ man. You gonna hurt yourself. Besides, I can’t understand a word you’re sayin’.” BA rolled his eyes at the sound Face made, although even Hannibal wasn’t exactly sure if that had been words or not. “Let yourself heal.”
“BA’s right, Face. Starting now, I’m officially prescribing you a no-talking diet.”
“‘at i’n’ a ‘ie’ an’ ‘ou’ no’ a doc’er.” ((That isn’t a diet, and you’re not a doctor))
“Face, I think you’re getting tired. You’re slurring your words.”
The lieutenant muttered what sounded like ‘screw you’ or something similar, but ultimately clammed up. The camp doctor had seen him after the initial injuries, but maybe Hannibal should have made him go again. He shrugged to himself while he set up Face’s cot. It could wait till morning at the very least. Late morning.
“Oh, you two will like this. You get to sleep in tomorrow. Late as you want.”
Face made a generally happy sound until Hannibal nudged him out of the way.
“Ha’i’b’l,” he whined. He kept the ice on his face even as he sat up.
“You want your bed made or not, Lieutenant?”
“Oh.”
Once it was made, Hannibal went to crawl into bed, only to realize that he hadn’t changed into pajamas yet. But he was so tired. Maybe he could just sleep in his clothes. Actually, no. He’d had quite enough of that for the last several days, and The smell alone was enough of a reason not to. He desperately needed to do laundry. As he changed, he heard two matching ‘oohs’. He rolled his eyes, although no one could see it with his back turned.
“Hannibal, did you get that checked out, man?”
“‘at ‘oe’n’ loo’ goo’.” ((That doesn’t look good))
“Just some fractured ribs, guys. The doc can’t even do anything about it. I’ll be fine.” Then, with a brow raised at both of the boys, “You two gonna sleep like that?”
They looked at each other and groaned.
“Pajamas. I never thought they’d be a problem.”
“‘e ei’er.” ((Me either))
“Whoah!”
BA’s exclamation had Hannibal frozen with his t-shirt half way on, face barely sticking out of the head hole. Face’s torso was almost as bruised as his face.
“That’s worse than I thought it was,” Hannibal said as he pulled his shirt the rest of the way down. “You should have said something.”
“Eh. ‘ame ‘in’ a’ ’ou. ‘oc ‘an’ ‘o a’y’ing.”((Eh. Same thing as you. Doc can’t do anything.))
“Okay, you really need to let your…everything heal, but your mouth especially. Listening to you is making me ache.”
“Yeah, man. You’re our ticket to better food. You gotta heal up real pretty so we can have barbeque ribs again.”
Face tried to roll his eyes - which was a little hard with one completely swelled shut - but Hannibal knew he was smiling internally. As much as they liked to tease Face about being a meal-ticket or their gopher, Face liked doing it. He liked getting things for them all, like Murdock’s firetruck pajamas and BA’s necklaces. Hannibal suspected that Face even liked being teased about it, like it was praise for all his hard work. In a way, it was.
“Goodnight, guys,” Hannibal said as he doused the lamp.
—-------
Murdock slept through the night for possibly the first time since any of them had known him. It was Face that woke up periodically throughout the night, moaning in pain. When Face woke for probably the eighth time in an hour, he turned to see Murdock awake as well.
The early morning light peeked through the crack where the door didn’t quite meet the walls. Hannibal had clearly planned ahead and covered the windows of the tent-like barrack, but had either missed the door or couldn’t cover it. Murdock was quietly making shadow puppets and whispering to his invisible dog.
“See Billy, it’s a dog, just like you. But if I move my fingers like this, it’s a llama.”
Face’s face throbbed, but he really didn’t want to move, so he just watched Murdock for a while.
“This is a donkey. Or a horse, I guess, but I think it looks more like a donkey. It’s too short for a horse. Or maybe it can be a pony. Did you know that the difference in ponies and horses isn’t actually their size? Some of them are tall, and some horses are small. The real difference is in their digestion and coats. Ponies are hardier and have thicker, coarser coats. They’re a lot stronger too, but they’re also a lot smarter. Gramps had one when I was a kid, and that thing could get out of any working situation. I swear to you, I once saw it pretend to be sick for an entire day.”
“--and then there’s the humble crocodile. Did you know that crocodiles and alligators are actually very different?”
Face must have dozed off. It couldn’t have been for long, since Murdock was in basically the same position.
“Oh, Face,” Murdock whispered when he noticed his friend’s eye cracked open. “I brought you something.”
The other man pulled a couple of pills out of his pajama pocket and a canteen from under his cot.
“Wha’ da’?”
“Painkillers. I found ‘em this morning when I was looking for dog treats.”
He didn’t know where Murdock had been looking for dog treats, but Face wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Nor a gift pony, crocodile, or alligator, for that matter.
“‘ou’ ‘e be’ bu’y.” ((You’re the best, buddy))
“I know,” Murdock grinned as Face gulped the pills down.
Whatever they were, they were strong. Not five minutes later, Face found the pain slipping away, and he finally, finally fell into a peaceful sleep.