A/N: Wow! I guess, MAYBE this is the last chapter. It went so fast! My oh my, I have enjoyed creating this piece. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. :)

I have never had a personal experience with head trauma, the closest thing I have come to any is my best friend when she fell skating and had a concussion for a week. What Murdock is saying, I can't promise that's how it really feels, but it sounds alright.

"Still can't catch a break?" James asked. Murdock came around, his eyes opening to a bright room. He sat up.

A soft bed was under him and he was in clean pajamas, his hair combed neatly on his head. "What's wrong now?" He demanded of the man sitting at the foot of the bed. James shook his head. "How should I know? I think you...me...went a little too far with the jumper cables." He grimanced.

Murdock groaned and held his head in his hands. "Now what?"

"Ask someone who specializes in head traumas," James suggested. "Maybe it's only temporary...a sick side effect." He shrugged.

"I hope so. This sucks."

James half-smiled and reached out to pat Murdock's arm. As soon as his hand made contact with Murdock's skin, he was shot through a vortex of swirling colors and indistinct sounds.

"Murdock?"

"He's really pale..."

"We need to go to the hospital. I don't care if the CIA get us."

"A sick side effect...A sick side effect...A sick side...A sick..."

Face held on tighter to Murdock's shoulders with every pothole the van hit as B.A. floored it down the roads, long past the small town. "I am not kidding, Hannibal." Face repeated. "He needs to go to the hospital!"

"Face," Hannibal turned in his seat to look at the conman. "We will go-"

Murdock groaned and Face turned his back on Hannibal to stare anxiously at Murdock. He moaned more and his head rolled sideways, his eyes slowly opening. All three of the men seemed to be holding their breath.

"Did B.A. hit me with his van?" Murdock's voice rasped out. "It sure feels like it."

Face blew out a long gust of air and Hannibal briefly closed his eyes. B.A. bit down on his bottom lip to keep from grinning and focused on the road. "How're you feeling?" Face questioned.

Murdock reached a hand up to feel his bandaged head and shrugged. " 'M gonna puke," He mumbled and Hannibal nodded to B.A., who pulled to the shoulder of the road and stopped the van. Three sets of eyes were turned on the weary pilot who was swaying in the seat.

"Face, open the door to get some air in here." Hannibal instructed and Face obeyed. Murdock breathed the fresh air in deeply, sighing. "We leavin' again?" He drawled, his southern accent many times thicker as he slurred out his words. Hannibal nodded. "Yep. On our way to Chicago," His eyebrows were creased with worry. "What's wrong, Captain?"

Murdock shook his head, his eyes suddenly growing wide and he heaved, diving for the open door and being sick onto the line of grass beside the road.

B.A. winced and looked away, Face rubbing Murdock's back as he finished and pulled himself back in the van, wiping his mouth on his jacket sleeve. "That's disgusting." He grumbled. As he was helped back into his seat, he appeared more awake. "But I do feel better."

"That's good. Do we need to stay here or can we go back in motion?" Hannibal asked patiently. Murdock met eyes with B.A. in the rear view mirror and knew for once, the big guy did not care if they had to stay idle for hours. But he nodded. "Go ahead."

After ten minutes, Murdock was fast asleep, his head lolling against his right shoulder.

B.A. glanced back at him. "Man. It's weird. Normally ya can't get 'im to shut up."

Face chuckled, watching Murdock for a moment then leaning his head against his own head rest before slowly dozing off.

The daylight faded to pink and orange, light purple, velvet and finally black. Hannibal and Face were both snoring lightly. B.A. leaned back into the seat, turning his blinker on to switch lanes. As he peered back through the back windows, he jumped.

"I'm sorry." Murdock whispered, surprised at seeing B.A. taken off guard for once. He grunted, looking out the windshield. "Shouldn't ya be sleepin'?"

Murdock was quiet then said, "Did you like him better?" He asked in a hoarse whisper. "James?"

B.A. glared at the road, trying to ignore the green eyes boring into the back of his headrest. One of the rare moments when Murdock was focused and serious and B.A. couldn't escape to another room and lock the door. He finally shook his head. "Naw. I didn't."

"Oh." Murdock sighed with relief and after a few minutes, tapped B.A.'s shoulder almost politely. "Hey, pull over for a sec."

Without questioning, B.A. complied. Murdock was mildly shocked that B.A. did without arguing and once he had, Murdock climbed over Face and heaved the young man into his seat. Next he opened the door and slid out, opening the passenger door and dragging Hannibal out. The Colonel's eyes half opened and he stumbled in a half sleeping stage to where Murdock dirrected him, to Face's seat, and he closed the door. Murdock climbed in the passenger's seat and closed his door.

B.A. was staring at him, his expression dumbfounded. Murdock stared back, passing headlights lighting his face up briefly every few seconds. "How'd you...?" B.A. muttered.

"It's a weakness. You can be easily controlled in a deep sleep." Murdock shrugged and B.A. shook his head, pulling back onto the highway. "You wanted to sit with me then?" B.A. asked.

"It's easier to talk to you up here." Murdock half-smiled and headlights bounced off his exposed teeth. B.A. nodded once at him. "Crazy fool."

"It's actually a relief to hear you call me that, Bosco. It makes me feel like nothing has happened and I've just been sleeping for a week, that's all."

B.A. raised his eyebrows at Murdock. "Really feels that way?"

The pilot nodded, his gaze drifting out the dark windows. He was quiet for some time and B.A cleared his throat. "What was it like...losin' it all and gettin' it back?"

Murdock turned his head to B.A. and the bigger man met his eyes. B.A. had never really believed that the eyes were the windows to the soul. He could hardly believe that you could see emotions in someone's eyes and never bothered to look before. He had thought about his team's eyes before, but only made his own assumptions.

If the soul thing was true, then Face would not have anything to see. He hid his emotions and masked his faces. It was his specialty and B.A. imagined it would be like looking into a puddle of mud. Nothing.

Hannibal would most likely have only determination. Perhaps a hint of nuttiness from his cigars and jazz moods. It wouldn't be as exciting, B.A. always thought.

Murdock would be like looking into a mirror as soon as you step out of the shower and find yourself searching for your reflection but can't see it. The crazy man's soul would be buried under layers of maniacness and crazy.

But now, as B.A. found himself stuck in those deep green eyes, he found many things. Pain, loss, fear, anger. He could name some more but was too taken aback to think through the list.

"Please don't make me explain," Murdock begged quietly. "It...I can't talk about it. It's like having you mind and soul ripped from you and replaced with a stranger's. You are helpless, you can't get yourself back." He shivered and B.A. automatically reached for the vent dial, turning the heat on. Murdock watched him, his lower lip jutting out. "So you really do care?"

"We're all family, Murdock. We all care." B.A. murmured, feeling the blast of warm air on his arms. "I'll take that as a, 'I do care, I'm just too macho to admit it.' " Murdock teased.

B.A. half smiled at him, rolling his eyes and watching the Captain settle into the seat and stare ahead, his eyes wide and reflecting the passing lights. Every so often a glitter was detected out of the corner of B.A.'s eye as Murdock glanced at him.

And they both felt, hopefully, that everything was going to be alright.

A/N: A little B.A and Murdock brotherly moment. NOT A SLASH MOMENT. I felt the need to say that. And hey, Mainiacness isn't a word, but it sounds cool! So, er...what do you all think?