The makeshift bar in camp A-143 was empty but for the table of two sergeants in the corner. It had seemed the safest place to go. Murdock was missing - probably in the back of his chopper if Face had to guess. With an M-16. He hadn't left the damn thing since they'd arrived in the camp almost a week ago, except to get food and water. Face had barely seen him. He felt safe there, for whatever reason. It didn't make much sense to Face, given that he'd been attacked there once. But Face had no inclination whatsoever to go pull him out of his comfort zone.
Face hadn't seen Hannibal lately. Or BA. They were around somewhere. Neither of them had said much at all about Murdock's damaged health, though BA had refused to leave Nha Trang with the team. He'd joined them a few days later. When he did, his knuckles were split. None of them said a word.
With one hand on the glass of whiskey in front of him, he stared at the worn wood on the top of the bar, tracing the outlines of Green Beret patches that their soldiers had carved into the wood. He recognized several, and a few of the names, too. He wondered how many of the soldiers who'd sat where he was now were still alive.
The door opened, and Face's eyes shifted immediately to the mirror on the back of the bar, checking to see who it was. He'd somehow felt that it was Cruiser before he saw him – a sense of foreboding and fury in equal amounts. He turned his head, hiding his eyes with his hand. He'd been avoiding Cruiser for over a week now, and with reason. His anger still hadn't quite died down.
He still didn't quite know what to say to him. Logic told him that he should at least attempt a truce - sooner or later Cruiser's arm would heal and then they would be on the ground together. If they didn't have this worked out by then, there would be big problems. Not to mention the fact that Hannibal was already starting to press - in his very unassuming way - as to what the hell was going on between the two of them. Whatever he knew about Murdock, it had nothing to do with Cruiser. Face didn't have words for him, either.
Cruiser walked around the empty bar to the liquor supply, grabbed a bottle of vodka and tonic from the shelf. Face watched him carefully, but kept his head down, eyes hooded. It was the first time he'd been alone with Cruiser since… that. The first time since Cruiser had walked into the room at the exact moment he shouldn't have. And the first time since Murdock had been beat to hell for a rumor that no one but Cruiser could have started. Face kept his anger in check, along with all of the other emotions that flickered through his mind.
Cruiser grabbed a glass and stalled for a moment before pouring himself a shot and throwing it back. He poured another in preparation. "There's a back door out of this place, you know."
Face took a sip of his drink, set it down carefully, and raised his head to look Cruiser straight in the eye. "Fuck you."
Cruiser smirked at the challenge in the tone and the stare. "What, flyboy not up to the task lately?" He threw back a second shot and slammed the glass back down.
Face stared hard at him, but didn't give him the satisfaction of an answer. Sitting up a little straighter, he reached into his pocket for his cigarettes. He could feel Cruiser's eyes on him as he lit one, and set the pack on the bar.
"I hear you had a successful mission."
Face took a deep drag off his cigarette and turned his head away a little as he blew smoke into the air. "We did," he answered flatly.
"Everybody alright?"
"Everyone's fine."
"Even Murdock?"
Face shot a warning glare at Cruiser. "He's part of 'everyone' isn't he?"
"I don't know." Cruiser poured another drink. "He's kind of been to himself lately."
"I can't imagine why."
"I hear he got into a fight."
Face bit his tongue so hard it bled.
Cruiser sighed, and raised his drink again. "Ah, well." He studied the clear liquid for a moment before sipping it slowly. "Hope he learns to be a little more careful."
Face was gripping his glass so hard he was afraid it might shatter. He released his grip and put his hands flat on the bar top. "Careful of what?" he demanded, his voice ice cold. Finally, he looked up and stared Cruiser in the eye. "People like you?"
Cruiser stared back, and smirked a little. "The world is full of people like me, Face," he said, his biting tone laced with hatred. "Especially around here." Face could see it in his eyes: anger and hateful rejection, arrogance and disapproval. Face heard his words by the tone before he ever even had a chance to process them. "You should probably be more careful, too. Special Forces ain't a nice place for fags."
Face's eyes blazed with anger, and he fought back the urge to rip Cruiser's throat out right then and there. "Push me, Cruiser," he said low, dangerously. "Go ahead. See what happens." Just give me an excuse, you bastard…
Cruiser raised an eyebrow, innocently. "You want to discuss this like ladies over some tea and crumpets?"
Pulling his anger under control, Face glared hard at him for a moment, then lowered his eyes away as he brought the cigarette to his lips again. "I've got nothing to say to you."
Cruiser chuckled. "The way you run every time I come around says plenty."
After a long drag, Face reached for the bottle and carefully refilled his glass. He could feel his blood pressure rise, feel his pulse in his head. With forced effort, he smiled pleasantly as he raised his glass in a gesture of a toast. "Here's to keeping your face from being rearranged." He drank.
Cruiser's eyes narrowed, but he raised his glass. "And assholes that don't say 'slippery when wet'."
Face paused briefly, but let it pass. He set the glass back down on the bar top a little more firmly than strictly necessary. No escaping the conversation. Might as well get it over with. He took another calming drag on his cigarette. "So what's the plan, Cruiser?" He sat back slightly as he exhaled, glaring across the bar at his opponent. "'Cause you know, sooner or later, you're going to have to get the fuck over it."
Cruiser studied the liquor as he poured again. "Yeah, but the problem is… can the rest of the crews get over it?" He set the bottle back down. "They can get a little uptight about things like this - some might even say unforgiving." He met Face's eyes towards the end in a challenge.
Face didn't rise to it. His stare remained cold and impassive, unreadable. "If that's your way of trying to establish blackmailing procedures, you've got another thing coming."
Cruiser chuckled. "I forgot. You're the resident expert at lying, cheating, and stealing." He smirked. "Hearts included."
Face smiled - it was so practiced, it was perfect. Lying, cheating, and stealing weren't the only things he was good at. Ultimately, they were only symptoms of the driving force that kept him motivated: he was accustomed to getting what he wanted.
Right now, he wanted a confession. It wasn't that he needed one; he knew damn well that Cruiser was the one who'd started the rumors. He was the only one who could've. He was the one who was ultimately responsible for what had happened to Murdock. But something inside of Face – some twisted sense of right and wrong – needed to hear it out of his own mouth. Needed to know that he recognized the cause and effect. He was the one who'd started this; not Face.
Even in spite of the anger that simmered just beneath the surface, Face spoke with a carefree tone and complete confidence. "And what are you the resident expert on, Cruiser?"
"Right now?" He sipped his drink. "The local undercover brothers."
Face's smile remained in place as he took a drink himself. "Not that much cover. Not anymore. You made sure of that back in Nha Trang."
"Oh?" Cruiser raised a brow. "What happened to 'this isn't what it looks like'?"
Face shrugged, casually. "It wasn't," he said smoothly. He was probably going to have to give Cruiser that battle if he wanted to win the war. He wanted the confession more than he wanted the opportunity to clarify what Cruiser had not seen. Besides, telling him what it was not would only lead to questions of what it was. And Face would be damned if he let it get that far.
Besides, whether it was what it looked like or not, that was really besides the fact in the end. "That didn't stop you from sharing your... expertise," Face smiled, inviting the defense.
"Murdock's known in Nha Trang by more than just me for being queer." He finished his drink and poured again. If he kept it up, he was going to be drunk long before Face, who had no intention of drinking more than his share for the night. As Cruiser looked up, he matched Face's smile. "Maybe you should go peddle your accusations in that direction."
Face immediately knew, by the smile and the smooth response, that Cruiser was well aware of what he was after. Face was neither surprised (Cruiser wasn't stupid) nor intimidated (he enjoyed a challenge every now and then). It just meant that Face would have to take the long way around. He knew for a fact that he was better at word games than Cruiser. He would slip up eventually, even if he hadn't been hitting the bottle so hard.
"Yeah, funny thing, that." Face gave a slight, humorless chuckle. "Actually, come to think of it, it was me who started that whole strain of rumors." He paused for a drink. The conversational tone was deceptive. Every muscle in Face's entire body was tensed. He was careful not to betray that to Cruiser. "Of course, I was drunk off my ass at the time. And it was an argument between me and Murdock; other people just happened to overhear. I'd certainly never intentionally stab a member of my own team in the back. After all, guys have been killed over shit like that."
"Too bad, too. There are unfortunate accidents every day." Cruiser swirled the drink in his glass. "But who knows, Lieutenant. Clearing out the faggots might even get you promoted." He sipped his drink with a smirk. "Do what you gotta do to get those bars, LT. I won't tell."
Face smiled back. "What would you know about it, Sergeant?"
Cruiser chuckled. "Not a damn thing."
Face eyed him for a moment, then paused for a slow drag on his cigarette. "Of course, not only was I drunk when I said that shit," he looked up, back at Cruiser, "I was also wrong."
Cruiser's eyes flashed as his smile fell. "Meaning what, exactly?"
Face felt a flicker of satisfaction. Yes, he was much better at this game than Cruiser was. Cruiser couldn't even hold a smile. Face shrugged, comfortably. "Just a statement of fact, plain and simple."
The emotions played across Cruiser's eyes, revealing his hand whether he liked it or not. The anger and indignation. He was not the liar here. He believed that with every fiber of his being. "Funny how deceiving it can be to witness something with your own eyes, isn't it, Face?"
Face chuckled, ignoring the challenging tone. "Yeah, well, I suppose that's the time to keep your mouth shut until you can make sure you've got your facts straight. 'Cause it sure would be awkward to be professing to be an expert on something that you really don't know anything about except what your," he paused for a smile, "deceiving eyes told you." He shook his head as he finished the cigarette, leaning forward to stub it out in the ashtray. "Sure am glad I've never been in that situation."
Cruiser's jaw was set in anger. Face could practically hear his thoughts. Who did he think he was, acting like it was all just a big misunderstanding! "Yeah, I'm sure there's at least a dozen reasons for two guys to be lip-locked and dry humping."
Face shrugged, smiled again. "Well, at least one or two." He chuckled. "But hey, what do I know? You're the expert."
Cruiser growled at the condescending tone that dripped sweetly with passive aggression. But he should've known better than to try and meet Face on his playing field. "Yeah, well being the resident expert, I can tell you there's only one explanation: a couple fairies getting so hot and bothered for each other that they forgot to lock the fucking door." He threw back the rest of his drink and slammed the glass down on the counter, looking back up at Face with a wicked smirk. "Oops. Small details."
"That's an interesting theory."
Cruiser's control over his tone and smile snapped. "Fuck you, Peck." He leaned in close to Face, his voice low and threatening. "Theory my ass. I walked in there and you two were sporting more wood than Pinocchio!"
Face didn't flinch, didn't answer. Cruiser was riled, and he'd work himself into his own trap if Face let him. He didn't have to say a damn thing. "Hmm." He shrugged.
"And ain't it funny how half the base on Nha Trang had that same fuckin' theory long before I got there."
"I thought we already got past that part of the conversation, Cruiser," Face said calmly. "They have that theory because of something I said that was dead wrong. People heard it. Rumors spread. But that was a long time ago already. Seems odd that they would suddenly bring it up out of the blue."
"Yeah?" Cruiser took a shot of straight vodka. "Well, maybe they have reason to believe the rumor is true this time around."
"This time?" Face smiled. Gotcha… "That almost sounds like a confession to me, Cruiser."
Cruiser's eyes narrowed and he watched Face. He didn't confirm it, but he didn't deny it either.
Face held his stare for a long moment, then lowered his eyes to stare at the amber liquid in his glass, swirling it around. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and reflective, unassuming. "You know what I don't get, Cruiser?" He paused for a moment, then looked back up. Suddenly, he felt all of the anger come back, all at once. He hid it under a calm and measured tone, but his hands were balling into fists on top of the bar as he spoke. "If you were going to sabotage the team, why the hell didn't you turn on me? Why Murdock? It was just as much my fault if not more. And you know that. There's no doubt in my mind that you know that. So why?"
"Why not?" Cruiser disregarded an actual explanation, as if it didn't matter anyway.
To Face, it mattered a great deal. The look in his eyes turned wicked as a smirk crept across his lips. Time to press a few buttons. "Oh, come on, Cruiser. Was it really just the jealousy?" He leaned forward on his arms, his voice dripping sweetness and patronizing. "He stole me away for one night. You couldn't handle that?" The "poor baby" wasn't spoken, but the tone said it all.
Cruiser's jaw set, and his eyes blazed at the insinuation. "Yeah Face, I'm so attached to you. The fact you ditched me to fuck a flyboy ate at me so much that in order to get back at you," he paused for a moment and threw back yet another shot, slamming the glass down, "I sold him out so you could watch him suffer and know that it was all your fault."
Sarcastic or not, it was all Face needed to hear. "That's about what I thought."
Cruiser didn't know Face could move as fast as he did in that moment. Using the chairs in a path he had clearly rehearsed in his mind before he moved, he vaulted over the bar and landed right beside Cruiser. Before Cruiser could defend, attack, or even comprehend what had just happened, Face had him by the neck. He spun him, expertly wretched his uninjured arm behind him, and threw him face down on the bar, spilling the whiskey that Face had been cradling just moments before and crushing his hurt arm under his weight.
Across the room, the only other two soldiers in the room stood from their table. Face looked up, and caught their gaze. "Stay out of it!" he yelled at them. Eyes narrowed, he waited to see what they would do. The two men exchanged glances, and then looked back at him. "Hey, man, just stay calm," one of them said smoothly. "I'm very calm," Face answered darkly. Cruiser chose that moment to struggle, and Face looked down as he pushed him hard against the bar, pulling his arm back even further. "And I'm very calmly gonna break your fuckin' arm if you give me a reason to. Otherwise, we're just gonna have a little talk."
Cruiser grimaced under the weight and pain in his arm. "Fuck you!"
Face grabbed his hair with his free hand and hit his head on the bar again. "No, I'm gonna talk," Face informed roughly. "You're gonna listen."
"I don't wanna hear a goddamn thing you have to say, you fuckin' faggot."
"See, that's the problem, Cruiser. We gotta work on your communication skills. Half of a conversation is listening."
Cruiser growled again. Ignoring him, Face looked back up at the men. "Do you mind? This is a private conversation."
The men hesitated for a long moment, then glanced at each other and sat back down at the table, keeping one eye on the two figures at the bar as they uneasily returned to their drinks.
Face leaned down, lowering his voice to a level only Cruiser could hear. "I'm gonna say this once. If anything – and I do mean anything – like that ever happens to Murdock again? I will personally take it out of your hide!"
"What're you gonna do, Face?" Cruiser snarled. "Fuck me?"
"If I say yes, what're you gonna do about it?" Face growled back. "Cry rape?"
Cruiser snarled. "That what gets you off, Lieutenant?"
Face ignored him. "If he's hurt again, I don't care if it was your fault or not. I'll be more than willing to go to jail just to have it out with you. Are we clear?"
"You'd like that wouldn't you?" Cruiser spat, fighting for a position that would take the pressure off of his hurt arm. Face didn't let him move. "One last practice run before you line up for the prison girls."
Face grabbed the back of his neck, grinding his cheek into the spilled whiskey from the glass he'd left on the counter. "Don't push me, Cruiser. If it wasn't for Murdock's forgiving nature –" for some reason, Face heard contempt in that remark "- you'd already be face down on the floor. You mind your own business and you watch your mouth. And we'll get along just fine."
"I'd be more concerned with his mouth if I were you. Sucking cock is a dangerous game."
"No, Cruiser. I trust his mouth. It's yours I worry about."
He stood suddenly, letting the pressure off, and grabbed Cruiser's shirt, shoving him back to a safe distance. He'd barely regained his balance before he turned back to Face, eyes blazing in vicious anger. "You should be worried, Face. Next time, they might just finish him off."
Face glared at him. "Well, in that case, you'd better hope to God that they take me out too."
Cruiser regained his stance and took a step forward, his fist clenching at his side. "Oh, I'll make sure they do. Seems your name has stayed out of it so far –"
"Don't do me any favors," Face snapped, cutting him off.
Cruiser continued, undeterred. "But next time maybe it'll be different." His voice lowered to a venomous, hate-filled threat, laced with liquor and slurred with the inability to even think straight. "I hope to God they do come after you. I hope they hold you down and make you watch while someone plows flyboy, and I hope they put a bullet in both of you."
Face could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage. But if Cruiser was looking for a violent, reactive response, he didn't get it. "You'd also better hope to God that Hannibal doesn't ever hear you say anything like that."
"Oh, I'm sure the colonel would be interested in a lot of what I have to say."
"He probably would. Why don't you go find out?" Face took a step forward, noting the effort it took to keep his breathing slow and measured. "Tell him why his pilot couldn't fly the other day. Tell him where the bruises came from. And while you're at it... tell him why we can't go back to Nha Trang. I'm sure he's dying to know."
"You seem awful sure that he'll turn an understanding ear to your side of things. Are you fucking him too?"
Face didn't think. The words had barely registered when he moved, two steps before he grabbed Cruiser's shirt. He could've struck first. Instead, he let Cruiser have the first punch. It would be the last one he'd get. With one arm still injured, he should've known better than to pick this fight. Face's arm was already pulled back when the blow landed on his cheek. The flash of pain opened the floodgates for the adrenaline. Pulse pounding in his ears, Face didn't waste time with threats and harmless blows and taunting. He went straight for Cruiser's nose with enough force to put his fist right through it. He felt it pop, and his half-healed knuckles split again from the force.
The pain - and the smell of blood - awakened the killer in him that rested just beneath the calm exterior of the well-disciplined soldier. The only thing that kept him from striking again was the awareness that he was staring into the eyes of an American, and the calm understanding that if he didn't stop, he would kill him. With one hand still holding his shirt, Face threw him to the floor before he even realized he was bleeding.
The two men stood up again, but Face put his back to them, watching as Cruiser landed hard on his back. He hadn't even had the chance to break his fall. Blood was pouring from his nose as he grabbed the edge of the bar to try and pull himself back to his feet, never taking his eyes off of Face. His nose was shattered – Face could've told that even if he hadn't felt it break – but he was still ready to fight.
Face pulled a fist back behind him slightly, at his side, and slid his right foot back a little, ready for him. Come on, you bastard… He could feel the blood seeping from his knuckles, could see it draining from Cruiser's nose. It made something inside of him - something dark and dangerous - burn like wildfire, reckless and out of control. All of the anger he'd been pushing down for days came back in a rush, mixing and mingling with the adrenaline throbbing in his veins.
He'd been avoiding Cruiser, trying to talk himself into being calm and reasonable when he finally had to talk to him. They would still have to work together, after all. But those thoughts seemed far away now. Worthless. He wouldn't work with this man again. He wouldn't trust him ever again. Later, he would deal with the semantics of how that was supposed to work. But right now, he wasn't the least bit concerned about preserving the unity of the team.
Cruiser took one look at his ready stance, and hesitated. Bleeding, his arm already injured, he wasn't quite stupid enough to think he could take on the anger in Face's eyes. Even if he was drunk.
"Just stay out of my way, Cruiser," Face growled, taking a step back. "And stay the fuck away from Murdock. I meant what I said about goin' to jail. It's very worth it to me right now."
Cruiser raised one hand to catch some of the blood that was gushing from his nose. There was no point in trying to wipe it away. Face watched him for a moment to make sure he wasn't going to try anything, then backed away a few steps and turned to walk away. His eyes caught those of the two men who'd stopped advancing and were just staring at him, not sure what to think. Face didn't address them, just poured one last shot of whiskey and tipped it up.
"The priests teach all you altar boys how to move down a line giving blow? Or did you learn that from Thanh Dai?"
Face slammed the glass down so hard it shattered in his hand. In one smooth movement, he turned and lunged. He had Cruiser on his back on the floor in a flash. By the time the two men pulled him off, Cruiser's face was a mess of blood and broken bone. It didn't take long. Even with a man on either side, Face's adrenaline gave him unrequited strength to break their grip, then turn and attack. Startled, they couldn't respond fast enough to avoid the first blows.
An instant later, Face was heading into the bottles on the back counter. Instinctively, he put his hands out to catch himself and they shattered under his weight, piercing his palms. He felt the men grab his shoulders. Knowing when to quit – when he was beaten – he let himself go limp, let them throw him against the bar. He didn't much care what they did to him. His point had been made.
"Hey!" He almost didn't recognize the voice. "Get your hands off him and take two steps back. Right now!"
With his face turned to the back of the bar, he couldn't see Hannibal. But he knew it was him. That authoritative voice was unmistakable.
"Who the hell are you?" one of the soldiers demanded.
"Hannibal Smith. Colonel Hannibal Smith. That man you have pinned to the bar is my lieutenant. So as I said, let him go!"
The men released him, and he stood up straight. He could feel the blood running from his palms and dripping off the tips of his fingers, and his head rang from hitting the bar so hard. But he felt no pain.
Hannibal came closer – close enough to see the pins on their lapels. "I should have you both arrested for assaulting a superior officer! Do you have any idea the –"
"No," Face interrupted, raising his bloody hand to wipe the flow that was draining from his nose. It only made a smeared mess. Hannibal watched him carefully, waiting for an explanation. "I started it."
Hannibal's eyes narrowed, but he didn't address Face. Instead, he turned his attention back to the two sergeants. "You two are dismissed," he ordered. "Get the hell out of here."
Reluctantly, the men left, with only lingering angry glances at Face. He hadn't done either of them much damage. He'd been too blinded by fury to actually aim when he'd hit them. Only once they'd gone did Hannibal turn back to him. "What the hell has gotten into you?"
Face didn't answer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cruiser clumsily pushing himself up. He knocked into things, grabbed onto broken glass, it didn't seem to matter. Face was surprised he was still conscious. As his head rose over the top of the bar, Hannibal's eyes widened noticeably.
"What the hell happened!" he yelled. The soldiers on the other side of the camp probably could've heard him. "Have you two lost your fucking minds!"
Face's jaw set, but he didn't speak. His hands were still shaking at his sides, balled into fists.
As Cruiser looked up at Hannibal, Face glanced at him. For the first time, Face had a chance to see the damage he'd done with clear vision. Good God…
Cruiser tried to move his jaw, then reached up and gripped it in pain. His hand was covered almost instantly in blood from his nose. Face took an unsteady breath in, realizing it was up to him to answer. "It was –"
"Nothing," Cruiser interrupted. He let out a cry of pain with the word. It was the probably the last thing he would be saying for a long time. His jaw was clearly broken. Badly.
"That's nothing?" Hannibal demanded, glaring at Face. He pointed at the blood draining from Cruiser's nose and mouth. "You call that nothing!"
"Personal matter," Face clarified through gritted teeth.
Hannibal growled. "Explain to me what personal matter could be so important that the two of you would beat each other to hell over it!"
Face suddenly realized he was draining blood from his nose as well as what was dripping from his hands. He didn't answer.
Hannibal clenched his fists and lowered his head, regaining his composure. "Cruiser, get to the dispensary," he ordered.
Cruiser moved slowly around the bar and through the room. Then he was out the door, leaving Hannibal and Face to stare at each other.
"You seem relatively unharmed," Hannibal pointed out, his voice cold.
"He had the first punch," Face whispered back. "That's all I gave him."
"Why?" Hannibal demanded. He didn't even try to mask the anger in his tone.
Setting his jaw, Face stared back at him, not answering.
Finally, Hannibal took a step forward. Face instinctively moved to attention. "If he – or anyone from this camp - files charges, Lieutenant? You are going to jail. And if that happens, every little black spot on your record – every T that's not crossed and every I that's not dotted – comes right back. How many years do you think you'll be spending in military prison, boy?"
Face stood still, eyes out of focus as he stared straight ahead, unseeing. He didn't answer. He didn't figure that Hannibal needed an answer.
"And if he doesn't?" Hannibal continued in a low growl. "This is the second time you've pulled this shit, Lieutenant. The second time you have gotten into a fistfight with another member of this team!" He stopped just on the other side of the bar and lowered his voice into a forced calm. "If it happens again – I don't care what the reason – you will not only be off of this team, but I will personally see to it you go to jail. I'll file the goddamn charges myself."
Face swallowed, jaw set.
"I will not have this kind of bullshit on my team," Hannibal hissed at him. "I will not have a loose cannon under my command. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
"Yes, sir," Face whispered.
Without another word, the colonel turned and stormed out the door of the club, leaving Face standing alone, still dripping blood from his hands and nose.
