Best-Laid Plans

[notthatcrazy]

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.

Comments

[notjustaface]

His logical brain doesn't know how that's going to happen, but if it's what Murdock wants he's willing to try.

He's deep enough after all they've been through in the last few years that he's willing to try just about anything.

"We'll start with one and see how that goes."

[notthatcrazy]

"And maybe when the time's right... maybe a family of our own."

He has no idea how that's going to happen either, but since they're clearly in the realm of fantasy here, why not?

[notjustaface]

His laugh is genuine, and completely unexpected - for Murdock it's hard to tell if it's the concussion, wistfulness, or actual desire talking.

"You'll have to carry it because I'm not ruining my girlish figure."

[notthatcrazy]

He joins in the laughter, caught up in the moment. "Hey, I'm serious here.... kinda."

He inhales sharply, hit by a fresh wave of nausea. He tries to hold very still until it passes.

"You'd be a good dad, I think."

[notjustaface]

"I'd be a terrible Dad and you know it." He laughs, kissing him again as he takes in a deep breath. He thinks he might be an okay Uncle or maybe 'guy that's sleeping with Dad', but not exactly father of the year material.

"What am I gonna teach a kid? How to pick up women in six different languages? Forgery? Petty theft?"

[notthatcrazy]

"See, that's what I mean. You get to tell 'em what not to do."

His grin fades as he gets more serious.

"There's a lot of stuff you could teach a kid."

[notjustaface]

It's not exactly a good time to dip his toes in the steaming pile of issues he has with that statement, it's time to keep Murdock steady and grounded because if he goes off the deep end or starts to fade he's not going to know how to handle it.

"Sure," he replies half-heartedly. "Yeah, I guess so."

[notthatcrazy]

He give a halfhearted tug on his sleeve.

"I know I'm kinda runnin' away with things. Just... gotta think about tomorrow to make it through today, y'know?"

[notjustaface]

Thinking about tomorrow in Face's mind means thinking about the job that's been royally fucked up and how they're gonna make it right a man down. Not exactly making half-assed plans for a beach hut-slash-animal shelter and kids that he's pretty sure they wouldn't be able to have even if they weren't federal fugitives.

Still, for Murdock's sake, he flashes his best smile and murmurs; "You're right, man... I'm just, you know. In my head." It's an excuse, and a weak one at that, but it's the best he can muster.

[notthatcrazy]

He knows it's unlikely, but he still hopes. It's gonna get his heart broken one of these days.

"Hurts..."

[notjustaface]

He's honestly not sure if Murdock means what he's implying is hurting or if it's the actual pain talking - either way the only way he knows of to fix it is to try and keep his mind off it.

"Remind me next time we have a plan that involves a pick-up to schedule them to show up way earlier."

[notthatcrazy]

It's a little of both, really. He takes a deep breath, trying to stay conscious at least a little bit longer.

"... You ever think about the future?"

That's a loaded question, he knows.

[notjustaface]

He knows it's best to answer honestly, and that if Murdock's breathing doesn't get a little more regular he's going to be the one panicking and trying to dig deeper into his basic knowledge of concussion triage.

"Sometimes," he mutters, "but it's a little tough when I'm not even sure where I'll be sleeping tomorrow."

[notthatcrazy]

If he were properly conscious he'd really have something to say about that, but as it is there's not a lot he can offer.

"Sometimes... ya just gotta have faith."

That's a lot to ask, he knows.

[notjustaface]

"I have faith in the team," he replies in all honesty; "and probably too much faith in this." He waves his bloody hand between them, squeezing Murdock's good one again.

"But you can't trust the future. Shit happens, I mean I'm still working out how we're gonna get around the odds of feds popping up at the hospital tonight."

[notthatcrazy]

"You can't trust the future, 'cause you're too used to bein' the one in control."

He's getting a little too worked up, and has to stop to get himself together again.

[notjustaface]

"I don't call the shots, man. I just make things happen."

It's true enough in his mind, he doesn't make the plan - it's not his job to make the plan - it's his job to adjust the plan accordingly as things go wrong and it starts to spiral into something a whole lot closer to damage control. He's the follow-through. In a way, they all are - even Hannibal after his insane but brilliant plans hit a snag that's supposed to somehow catch up with itself.

"I'm good at pulling together what I have to work with."

[notthatcrazy]

"You are," he agrees "And you're good at thinking on the fly, but you've still gotta be second in command."

He's fading in and out, dancing on the edge of unconsciousness.

"Even when you let someone else take the lead, you never let yourself get too far behind."

[notjustaface]

"Because I trust the people that have my six." He says without pause, squeezing Murdock's hand again.

"I couldn't do this without you..." he hesitates, letting the thought stew a second before finishing; "you guys."

[notthatcrazy]

Even in his hazy head-injured state he catches the moment of hesitation, and the stab of fear that goes along with it.

"I know, baby."

He's tired. Tired of talking, tired of being in pain, just plain tired in general.

[notjustaface]

He can hear the heaviness of Murdock's tongue and raises his voice slightly; "Stay with me."

Face shifts slightly, leaning to check his somewhat unfocused eyes with a fear of his own - the moment, the reality of the situation.

"Tell me about the future," he offers; "what do you see?"

[notthatcrazy]

"You and me... nice little house somewhere. Maybe not on the beach but somewhere far enough away no one'd bother us."

He smiles a little sadly. "Maybe kids, maybe not, but even if we don't have our own, we'd be the best uncles."

And now there's a new ache alongside the physical pain.

"'M so tired."

[notjustaface]

"No... no... kids, great..." he replies, squeezing his hand again. "Let's talk about kids. What about a girl, you think?"

He's panicking, it's the only reason he'd follow that road.

[notthatcrazy]

"Temp... it's okay."

He's pictured them with a little boy, or maybe a boy and a girl, but he can't bring himself to freak him out any further.

"How much longer 'til the others get here?"

[notjustaface]

It's not okay. It's very much not okay, Murdock's not okay.

"Couple hours..." At least. They don't even know, and he's more or less hoping on some sort of psychic connection to tell them please hurry.

"Talk to me, babe. Anything. Anything you want to talk about."