While they'd struck camp, Face had patrolled the perimeter. While they ate, he'd wandered a short way down the hill to the edge of the river. Now it was time to sleep, and he was still down there. "What's the matter with him?" BA demanded, casting an irritated but worried glance down the still form sitting just inside the trees, where it was still safe.
"I don't know," Hannibal admitted. "But I got a real good idea." He was already pulling himself to his feet, taking his CAR-15 with him.
Face didn't look up at the sound of footsteps behind him, though he was acutely aware of them. They were coming from the camp, which meant that they weren't the enemy. He glanced up briefly as Hannibal sat down, and flicked his wrist to toss the leaf he'd been picking apart into the water.
"What's on your mind, kid?"
Face kept his eyes on the leaf as it hit the slow-moving surface of the water and wandered downstream, out of sight. He reached for another one from the nearby bush. "I don't wanna talk about it."
Hannibal reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a half-finished cigar, then searched for his lighter. "Got anything to do with Murdock?"
Face cast a brief glare in his direction as he finally located the lighter in his front pants pocket. "I said I didn't want to talk about it."
"You know, kid," Hannibal paused to light the cigar, "there's a difference between trusting someone and being stupid." He snapped the lighter closed and shoved it back into his pocket. "I trust you. But this is bordering on stupidity. You're on the ground in Cambodia, Lieutenant. If you want me to trust you, you need to be here, now."
Face sighed, but remained quiet.
"I'm already down Cruiser," Hannibal reminded. "I don't need you goin' AWOL on me inside the enemy camp."
"AWOL?" Face shot with a challenging glare.
"If you're not all here, you're of no use to me, Lieutenant."
Face studied him for a moment, then looked away. "I signed the report on the Huey," he offered quietly.
If that wasn't a way to divert the question, Hannibal didn't know what was. "I know. I saw it."
"Jeffries looked at me like I was nuts."
"Nobody in their right mind is going to believe that report. I don't know the first thing about helicopters and I didn't believe it."
"Well, he'll either court martial me or he won't," Face sighed. "I signed my name to the report and I'll stand by it."
"I'm more concerned about when they court martial Snap, to be honest."
"Snap will roll over and play dead. But I won't."
Hannibal looked to him, studying his expression carefully. Finally, he looked away again. "So why did you do it, Face?" he asked.
"Do what?"
"Falsify that report."
"That report is true to the best of my –"
"Face," Hannibal interrupted with a very direct look. "Why?"
Face sighed, and tossed another leaf toward the water. This one didn't make it; it landed in the red mud. "Because whatever happened out there, he's still a damn good pilot," he finally said. "He's just…"
Hannibal was quiet for a long moment, considering all of the ways Face might have ended that statement. He was just… different, now. Since the camp. It wasn't anything Hannibal could have put his finger on – tired, re-energized, depressed, anxious. He was all of that and none of it depending on the day. But the risk-taking behavior, the nightmares that woke them all, and that lingering, dark look in his eyes – those things were all very new. He was as damaged as they all were… and probably more so.
But damaged didn't mean dangerous. If his mind was still secure enough, he really was the best pilot Hannibal had flown with. In spite of all of it, Hannibal hadn't lost confidence in him. He wanted him here. He would've brought him along on this drop if he'd had his way. But he also realized that he didn't know what had happened out there at the river. Murdock had crashed – the second time in a week – and this time it hadn't been under enemy fire. It was enough to make anyone question his competence. It seemed enough to worry Face, too, although the lieutenant had yet to give him a direct answer.
"So why isn't he here now?"
Face shook his head. "The crash has nothing to do with it."
"You're sure?"
"What are you getting at, Hannibal?" Face demanded.
Face had started this little diversion. Hannibal intended to see it through, while they were on the subject. "There's a difference between trusting him with all of our lives and not wanting him to lose his rank."
"I trust him," Face said firmly. "He's not here because he's…" He hesitated. Too long. "He wasn't feeling well."
Hannibal wasn't a complete idiot. He knew he was being lied to. He also knew that he'd gotten everything out of the Lieutenant that he was going to get. He'd find out for himself later, from Murdock, all of the details of why he wasn't at the controls. He'd also eventually have to make his own judgment call on the captain's competence. If Face wasn't willing to explain himself, Hannibal wasn't willing to take his word on something that could potentially cost lives.
But right now, he had other problems.
"I need you to stay focused, Face," he ordered. "With Cruiser down, we're all pulling more than our normal share of this."
Face smirked. "You know, most recon teams only have three Americans."
"Yes, but I'm used to working with four. Or five. Or even six."
Face was quiet for a moment, trailing back and forth in the mud with a stick. "You never replaced Boston. Or Bulldog." He glanced up. "Why?"
Hannibal paused, lifting his cigar to his mouth and leaving it there as he leaned forward, arms across his bent knees. "Because I don't think we have enough time left in Vietnam to make it worth it."
"What do you mean?"
"Haven't you heard?" Hannibal smiled around the cigar as he glanced at the young lieutenant. "This war is over, kid. We lost."
Face chuckled. It wasn't the first time he'd heard that phrase. It had been widely circulated, repeated more and more lately by the soldiers on every base they visited. "If the war's over, then what the hell are we doing in Cambodia?"
Hannibal stood and brushed himself off. "Think of it as tying up loose ends," he said as he turned away.
He only made it a few steps back toward the camp before Face's voice stopped him. "Hannibal?"
He glanced back. For a long moment, they stared at each other. Then, finally, Face spoke. "Don't worry about Murdock," he said quietly. "I'll take care of him."
"As long as he's safe, I don't worry about him."
"He's safe," Face assured. "For now. Just…" He trailed off and swallowed hard. "Let me take care of him."
The mission had been about as successful as Face had expected – they'd found the body of the missing American, conveniently tossed at the side of the road. Why they'd moved him in the first place was anyone's guess. But he had no papers on him. No photos. At least his family would have a body to bury. That was worth something.
A somber crowd was waiting as they touched down in the Nha Trang base and handed off the rigid, lifeless, and mutilated body to the Jeep full of soldiers who would bag it and send it to Saigon to be prepped and shipped home. Face watched them go without emotion, and glanced around for Murdock. He didn't see him, but Cruiser was heading for them. Face turned and walked the other way. Better to avoid him for now. Face really didn't have anything to say to him anyway.
Murdock was awake, eyes open as he lay silent on the bed, staring at the wall in front of him. His gaze shifted to Face as he walked in, then away again. "How are you feeling, flyboy?"
The pilot swallowed noticeably, but didn't look up again. "Snap put in for a transfer."
"That's not what I asked."
Murdock didn't reply.
Face dropped his gear on his bunk, letting the question go for now. "Cruiser been in here?"
"No."
"You been out of here?"
"No. Not really."
He'd had four days to recover, and the bruising did look significantly better. That blank stare in his eyes wasn't a good sign, though. As Face sat down on his bunk, he studied him for a long moment. When he didn't even flinch, Face snapped his fingers a few times. "Hey. Anybody home?"
Murdock looked at him, but didn't speak.
Face sighed. "Come on, man. If you're still thinking you're gonna keep this to yourself, you'd better sober up."
"Does it matter? One look at me and Hannibal's gonna know."
"He'll know someone beat the hell out of you. Whatever you want to say beyond that, I'll back you up. One way or the other."
Murdock just stared at him.
"We're moving to another camp in the morning," Face said quietly. "We're going to do our stand down there. You gonna be able to fly?"
A slight nod. "As long as Snap's there."
"Well, they won't process anything that fast and Hannibal's got to sign off on it before they can even start. So he'll be there."
Another nod. And not a sound.
Face sighed. "You gonna pull it together? Or do I need to do all the explaining on this one?"
This time, Murdock shook his head. "I'll explain. It's my problem."
"Alright." He stood again. "When was the last time you ate anything?"
