Author's note:

I'd like to thank you guys for all the wonderful reviews.. Each and every one of them really made me a very happy girl! Some have pointed out errors, as I asked you to – But seeing as I haven't quite figured out how to edit chapters, I haven't been able to fix them D:

Anyway.. Enjoy! (I was gonna end this chapter on a cliffhanger, but considering my terrible update rate that would just have been mean. So I stopped here!)

Face looked on as his friend went from wild, trapped beast-mode to something that could only be described as … There really was no words to describe, and Face could only look on in horror as Murdock shrank back from him, stumbled into the furthest corner of the booth, all the while making some sound in-between a sob and a cry of pain.

But it was his expression that really got to him; The panic was still evident, but on top of it was this horrifying manic grin again, even as tears spilled from his eyes. As if his face had become an absurd study in opposites; his eyes shone too brightly, but were at the same time too dull – And how was it that he looked like he was grinning, when so clearly he was crying –

Face didn't get to contemplate this any further – Suddenly Murdock was on his knees, beside the toilet, emptying his stomach. Face too, felt like puking – Not so much from the smell, much as he hated it, but from the sheer unreal quality of this whole situation.

Instead he turned away, and quickly unlocked the door. He let it slowly open, and was struck by the memory of hiding out in a toilet when he was younger; it really was a tasteless place to go. But there was a certain purpose and character to a room made especially for shitting in – And Face felt that there might be some poetry there – But there would be time to pursue that later. Maybe he and Murdock could make a silly song about the virtues of toilets, and drive both Hannibal and BA crazy.

He looked down at Murdock who had stopped dry-heaving a little time ago, and thought that maybe he'd wait a little while with that particular song.

Murdock sat quietly for a while, and Face said nothing: Apparently he wasn't all that great at taking the right initiative – This time he would wait for Murdock to tell him they were good to go before doing ANYTHING.

Time passed, and Face forced himself not to hold his breath as he waited for some kind of sign. Then, finally, Murdock spat into the toilet, and got to his feet, looking towards Face. Face automatically took a step back, and a look of hurt flashed through his friend's eyes. His face was ashen grey, and he seemed unstable on his feet as if he really were just physically ill – and maybe he was – Face wasn't sure how to categorize this.

"Sorry," murmured the pilot sheepishly, and Face wasn't sure if he was sorry about messing up the mission, attacking him, or subjecting him to the undoubtedly unpleasant smell of puke.

"No worries," said Face quickly, not caring what exactly his friend felt sorry for. They both flashed a smile at that, equally false, though Face did a much better job faking his.

Face stepped aside, and Murdock passed him and went to the sink. Here he started cleaning his mouth with water, and again Face looked on in silence, feeling awkward and out of place.

He wasn't entirely sure what to make of this, or what this even was. Face knew Murdock wasn't exactly your average mind. Hell, he was Howling Mad for a reason, right? He also knew that the man was a bit of a genius, spoke more languages than Face cared to remember; was one of the best damn pilots –hell, THE damn best pilot – he'd ever flown with. He knew that the man had little to no impulse control, an overactive imagination and.. well: He supposed there was a reason they'd met him at a psychiatric ward the first time around. People weren't just placed there on a whim. Face HAD been worried.

He knew all these things. He even knew how sometimes the ever-active man would suddenly go quiet – How sometimes he seemed to freeze even in the warmth of the sun. He had seen him flinch on occasion – seen the lost look in his eyes.

But Face was no stranger to hurt, and neither were the rest of the team. He'd be damned if he said he never felt lost, out of place, or just good-old-fashioned scared. Hell, even Hannibal would sometimes get this haunted look that Face had no idea how to make better – And B.A.. Well, the man still couldn't get in a flying vehicle without sedatives!

But they were men. They didn't.. talk about their feelings. They never explained themselves. A pat on the back, an understanding look (even when you understood nothing) – Leaving each other alone, when one wished to be alone (Even if one didn't REALLY want to be alone)..

But this.. Face looked at Murdock in the mirror. He had straightened up, and was looking at Face through the mirror with a shaky half-smile that didn't even begin to reach his eyes .

This.. Face wasn't so sure if he could let this one go. If he SHOULD let this one go.

So…. I hope you enjoyed. I know these are pretty short chapters, but I'll rather post when I have written something, than sit on long drafts until I myself grow sick of them, and decide never to post.

Review if you have the time, it really means a lot to me!

-Ari