It's awkward at first; the other team members aren't sure what to say or what to do or how to act, and Face isn't sure what he wants them to say or what he wants them to do or how he wants them to act. Mostly, he's just frustrated.

And he has a right to be, he thinks. Up until a few days ago, he was normal. Now, he literally can't see his hand in front of his face. He'd never admit it, but he's scared. He doesn't know what's going to happen now. He doesn't know how he'll fit into the team. He doesn't know his place any more. It was all so seamless before now.

Murdock has been taking care of him, for the most part, but he's pretty sure he doesn't want to be taken care of, either. He wants to be able to handle himself like always has.

B.A. tries to walk a fine line, helping him when he needs it and leaving him alone when he doesn't. Face appreciates the effort but somehow it still bothers him.

Hannibal's reaction confuses him the most- of all the things to do when your teammate goes blind, he didn't really expect such a "tough up, you're a soldier in the military, and you have to be able to take what life throws at you" attitude. A little part of him is starting to feel like Hannibal doesn't even care.



Murdock feels a little guilty for making Face upset, but he'd feel worse for letting him deal with this all on his own. Further, he knows full well Face isn't truly mad at him- not really.

No, Face is mad at himself. He seems to think he's a burden on the other team members, and Murdock isn't sure how to remind him that's not true.

"Hey, Face-man." He greets, a little unsure. Face looks up with sightless eyes.

"Heya Murdock." Face says in reply, but the words are spoken without their usual energy.

Murdock sits down beside Face and rests his hand on his arm. Face seems to appreciate the physical reassurance.

"You know, you're still the best conman I've ever met." Murdock says abruptly.

"I bet I'm the only conman you've ever met." Face says, but he can't deny he feels touched by the words.



B.A. has no idea what to do around Face now. He's pretty sure he's never had to take care of a blind man, let alone a member of his own unit that he knows from experience can take care of himself.

He doesn't know if he should offer help or not when he sees Face struggling with something, for instance. And then it occurs to him: Face is still just Face. And he might have different needs right now, but maybe what he needs most is to be treated exactly like he was before.

B.A. isn't sure how accurate this idea may or may not be, but he knows that so far, Face has appreciated pretending things are normal.



"Something wrong, Lieutenant?"

Face starts at the voice, glancing sightlessly over his shoulder. "You shouldn't sneak up on a guy like that."

Hannibal comes up to stand next to Face, respectively watching and listening to the rain fall. "Didn't mean to." He says unapologetically.

The two stand in silence for a moment before Face speaks, a little dejectedly. "Am I useless, Hannibal?"

"Useless?" Hannibal echoes, turning to look at Face. "Now listen here soldier- nobody says stuff like that about my men to my face. What brought this on?"

"Ever since I lost my sight it seems like..." Face hesitates, finding the words. "Like I can't do anything right in your eyes."

There is an expectant pause. Face recognizes this particular brand of silence, and sighs, retrieving a cigar from his pocket and offering it to Hannibal. Then he hears a chuckle- which evolves into a short, soft laugh. He bristles.

"What's so funny?" He demands.

"Look at yourself, Face." Hannibal says.

And in the metaphorical sense, Face does. And realizes that he's holding out a cigar not asked for but he knows is wanted, in the direction of a man he can't see but he knows is there, out in front of the rain he can't watch but he knows is falling.

"I'm just helping you learn to cope." Hannibal says gently, accepting the cigar and putting an arm around Face's shoulders. He leans down to brush a kiss against Face's cheek, and the younger man can't help but smile slightly. "That mushy comfort stuff, I'll leave to Murdock- he's better at it than I am anyway."

"I think you're doing a pretty good job of it, boss." He rests his head on Hannibal's shoulder, and relaxes, and smiles, closing his eyes and realizing he likes the sound of the rain as much as the sight of it.