notthatcrazy | Best-Laid Plans

Best-Laid Plans

It was supposed to be an easy job. At least that's what Hannibal had said, with his usual bravado. All they had to do was tail the guy who'd been stealing corporate intel from their client and report back when they found his base of operations - at least that was the plan, until they'd been spotted and he'd gotten the drop on them before Face could take him out.

So now he's got a possible concussion and a probable - ow, no, make that a definite broken arm and a very worried partner to deal with.

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It's like he knew, somehow. He tries to force his mind back to the present.

"No, you didn't tell me."

"I did. I guess I thought at first maybe it would help me work shit out, just writing it all down."

He laughs a little awkwardly, it feels overly-sentimental and romantic... but the things he wrote at the time he knows he only did because they'd be destroyed before anyone could see them. Letters specifically written not to be sent.

"I didn't know what to say at first so I just wrote things like; 'I'm thinking about you and I miss you like crazy and I swear I'll fix everything.'"

"Yeah?"

The takes his hand again, running his fingers over the ragged scars on his knuckles. They'd both been through the wringer in those six months.

In a way, it was good. It gave him time to think, time to prioritize. And, you know, work on his abs.

"Then I started just writing about the day, you know? Like you really cared that I managed a real bed and VIP status."

And sometimes he even apologized for the things he did to get them.

"I would have," he insists softly.

"... Might not've wanted all the sordid details, but I always cared."

That's enough to draw a small smile.

"Would you have written me back?"

"'Course I would."

It would have been nice to have that contact. He'd really thought it was the end for them. It's enough to make him feel guilty now. He should have realized they'd never leave him in that place.

"Don't know if I'd have gotten 'em even if you had sent 'em, though."

"Probably not." Definitely not, there's a reason they were kept as far apart as possible - individually they're all dangerous, together they're unstoppable.

"I burned 'em anyway." At first he told himself it was cleaning up the evidence trail, but even he knew it was because there were some things he didn't want anyone knowing - even Murdock. Maybe especially him.

That was the hardest part, the feeling of being alone.

"Little dramatic, don't ya think?"

"My options were a little limited," he smiles again, nosing against him as he once more checks his eyes... they're not looking any clearer.

"The last two months was pretty detailed about the plan."

It may have also involved promises he knew he couldn't keep.

He's still pretty out of it. He sighs.

"Love you, y'know?"

Whatever happens, as long as they're together...

"I know, I know..." he squeezes Murdock's hand again, convinced it's the only thing keeping him calm.

"We're gonna be okay, you know that, right?"

"Yeah."

It pretty much is. He's clinging to him as much as he can in their uncomfortable position.

"Just wish the cavalry would hurry itself up."

"They'll be here..." he tries to be reassuring, but it's not exactly his strong suit.

"Hey, after this is all over... you know what? We're getting ice cream. You like ice cream."

"Do I get a lollipop if I'm good for the doctor?"

At least being wounded in the line of duty hasn't fully dampened his snark reflex.

"You can have all the lollipops, babe." The concern in his voice is obvious and he knows it, but there's no use hiding it.

"Anything you want. Just keep it together for me, okay? For me?"

"I'm tryin'..."

He raises an eyebrow at him.

"You weren't s'pposed to take that seriously, y'know."

He can't help it, at this point he'd do just about anything to keep it together. For both of them.

"Hey, I always take you seriously." Even when he's being silly because deep down he knows there's something to it. Sometimes. More often than people give him credit for.

"Yeah."

He appreciates it usually, but he could do with a little less serious right now.

"Keep talkin', okay?"

Right. Well...

"Okay... right... how about this?" He lets go of Murdock's hand and rolls back his other sleeve past the elbow before showing him the inside of his wrist where a faded scar normally hides under his watch band.

"Guess how I got that little bad boy."

"Rogue mongoose bite?"

It's a little hard to tell if he's joking or if he's so far out of it that the idea actually makes sense to him.

It's nice to smile, but hard to laugh.

"I tried to field strip my service weapon after half a dozen tequila shots. Managed to catch my wrist in the slide assembly - to this day I have no idea how it was even physically possible."

He chuckles dryly; "First time I met Hannibal, he was friends with the medic who told him he 'had to see this' before dousing it with rubbing alcohol."

"Ouch," he laughs softly, able to picture Face's wounded pride all too well.

"'Member those chickens I mentioned earlier?"

He holds up his good arm, indicating a small, roundish scar near the elbow.

"Hens're okay, but roosters are mean l'il bastards."

Leaning forward, almost on some strange instinct, he kisses the old mark.

"I got chased by a rooster once, I think it was in Mexico. Really didn't help me convince the girl I was trying to hook up that I'm a macho guy."

They're terrifying, and are best put to use in a pot pie.

"Don't blame ya. They're scary."

There are so many horrible jokes he could make here if he were feeling better. As it is, the gentle touch is weirdly comforting.

"The hens were okay... some of 'em would let me look at their babies in the nests as long as I didn't get too close."

He's not really sure why he's rambling about chickens, but at least it's keeping him awake.

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