(Prompt: Person A about to die, but instead of calling Person B to say goodbye, Person A has a completely normal conversation, just talking to Person B about anything and everything, making sure to say ‘I love you’ right before they hang up.)
Trigger Warning: Death, slight gore.
@howlin-mad-murdock
I’m sorry, it was going to be about kittens, but….
Your fingers were slippery on your phone screen, and it took you three tries to type in the VA hospital number correctly. Cursing under your breath as the phone rang once, twice, three times-
“You have reached a disconnected number. If you think this is a mistake, you may debate it with the operator, but we do not advise it…"
Murdock’s telephone introduction was longer than usual; most likely he hadn’t been out to stroll the grounds yet today, as it was before lunch.
Who knew so much could go so wrong in the few hours since breakfast?
You were tempted to interrupt your boyfriend, but decided against it. That wouldn’t leave a good impression, and so instead you simply grit your teeth against the taste of iron on your tongue and waited, hunched against the rough wall.
”…but the mood of the operator is beside the point. Hello?“
"How’re you, Murdock? Sounds like you have a grudge against a certain telephone operator.”
“Jerry’s not so bad, once ya get ta know him, Chica. Especially when ya say 'pretty please’.”
The man’s accent was casually thick: it seemed as if he had no alter-ego yet. You took a moment to commit his drawl to your memory, savoring every inflection. You decided to pin your phone between your shoulder and your cheek, using both hands to press against your torso. It seemed that Murdock’s voice was having a miraculous effect on you: you were calm despite the gaping wound in your gut and the knowledge that help would come far too late. Or maybe it was the shock setting in.
“Jerry, huh? I’ll ask for him next time I need to make a call. So, how was your latest field trip?"
You could almost see the pilot’s goofy grin at the mention of his recent mission with the team. They hadn’t been able to visit him for almost a month, as Decker had been going through one of his 'terrorize the mental patient’ phases. He was more than ecstatic to spend some time with his unit again. You of course, had stayed behind for this job: it was all the way in Germany, and one of the jobs that HM liked to call "a stinking, boring pile of Company spying”. Which, of course, ended up being the most dangerous, according to Face.
Murdock always tried to keep you safe.
That thought made you give out a single strained laugh which you quickly muffled with a blood-soaked hand. Murdock stopped in the middle of his play-by-play run through of their plane ride to Germany, sitting up quickly, and the phone line crackled as it caught the ruffle of the pilot’s jacket.
“Somethin’ wrong, Sweetheart?”
You licked your lips, oblivious to the red staining them as you tried to think of something to say.
“I was jus’ imagining B.A. unconcious next to y’, not able to yell at y’ for y'r 'Jibba Jabba’.”
Your lungs ached with the effort of talking so much, and for a brief moment of silence over the phone, you were sure Murdock would ask more questions. But the VA patient only huffed in false frustration.
“I’ll have ya know that the mudsucker enjoys mah engaging commentary.”
“Sure, sure. An’ Hannibal hates cigars.”
You gave a breathy laugh at Murdock’s squabling that reached you over the phone…
The device suddenly hit the cement, clattering and pulling you back from the edge of oblivion with a jolt. You picked up your last lifeline to Murdock with cold fingers and tears building in you glazed-over eyes.
“Sorry, seems I’m tired today. Say, H.M.?”
“I love y’, an’ Billy of course.”
“Love ya too, Angel o’ mine. See ya tomorrow for pizza!”
There was another small rustle on the phone, then Murdock’s voice a few feet from the receiver.
“Hear that, Billy? Mah girl says she loves ya, too! Never had that before, have we?”
Then the click of his handset in its base followed by the clatter once more of your phone hitting the ground.
The police didn’t find you for another hour, and by then your phone had enough missed calls to show that H.M. Murdock had heard the news about the crazy gunner loose in your neighborhood.
(I hope you all enjoyed that! I enjoy writing pain. If you have any tips for making my writing better, I’d love to hear it. :3 )
