Title: Somebody Loves Me
Rating: K+
Fandom: A-Team
Characters: Face/ Hannibal
Summary: Face always thought no one wanted him as it was drummed into him from such a young age and then not being adopted reinforced the lie as a truth. Sometimes what we yearn for is right in front of us but we can't see it. Un Beta'd at present so all mistakes are mine.
-A-Team-
A tired H.M. Murdock farewelled Face with man-hug before he snuck back into the V.A after another mission, he'd only been gone for just over two days and he didn't have any injuries to explain this time. Waving he turned and headed for the front entrance, wondering how long it had taken the staff to notice he was gone or if they had even noticed.
Face sat in the corvette waiting a few more minutes to make sure Murdock was safely home then he pulled out of the carpark onto the road. This last mission hadn't required the most complicated of cons but he hadn't been at the top of his game for a while. Thankfully none of the team had noticed or at least had not commented on it.
Then that was a small part of the problem. The masks he wore for his usually for his cons, most recently for more than just the cons had become too much a part of his everyday self. Buried the very real pains that were taking a grip on his life, so confusing, seemingly endless and encroaching darkness. Some of the thoughts he had during these whatever they were made some of Murdock's random outbursts seems like children's tales. Be assured Murdock had a whole other side to sock puppets, singing, talking to himself and seeing invisible things but for some reason that was mostly witnessed by just Face and on rare occasion Hannibal. Sometimes Face wondered if he really was part of the team; Hannibal was the brains, B.A. was the brawn and the driver, Murdock was a pilot and Face? He lied, he cheated, commandeered, seduced or a combination of the previous. And could pick locks, don't forget that attribute too. He sighed as he navigated his way around the busy streets of L.A with the lead up to afternoon peak traffic.
Feeling a little a blue was nothing new to Face, over his life so far he'd had his far share and then some of blue days. Sometimes he was lucky and they were only a day in residents and then there came the ones that worried him, the ones that lasted days plural. These moods were a match to some of his buddy Murdock's but with Face's position as con man and 2IC even though they were out of the Army he had to be on top of his game for the others, his family. Days where every waking moment was a living nightmare of collaged memories of early life, war torn hell from his time in the Hanoi Hilton and the times he had been broken one way or another.
Having been on his home turf of L.A for a few hours now and having spent most of that time driving around hoping and silently praying to a being whose existence he questioned that the current mood would lift, he was felling a little further down that it hadn't. Parking outside a newsagents Face brought three scratchies; the first bonus words read 'happy' as did the second and the third 'relax' he had to laugh.
Happiness isn't something one has a lot of control over in life; it comes of its own desire and sometimes the harder you seek it the further away it seems. Always out of grasp. Like a mirage of an oasis to a dying man alone and delirious in the depths of an unforgiving desert, as is life at its cruellest and most harsh.
As for relax that is easier said than done when you live on the run from something that you didn't do, always having to wear one mask or another for the sake of saving you and your families hides. In the overall grand scheme of things is it really that much a price to pay so that you may be free? So they you can play modern day Robin Hood's? Because when it comes down it, to him, that's often whet he equates what they do to. Giving back to the powerless and deserving by taking down the bad, calculating evil scuzzballs.
If they are lucky and Hannibal's plans work no one gets hurt, sometimes they don't though and it hurts him so much when one of his family is injured. The time Murdock took a bullet and almost died in a cave. Or the time Murdock was shot when they went back to Nam and Fulbright died. He may not have liked the man but a death is still a death and all death diminished him as he is part of mankind. Something he adapted from a book he read so long ago now.
But the times when he got hurt felt right, like it should always be him, never them. Because to him his pathetic life was meaningless and if it was to be extinguished the world would have lost a nothing but if Hannibal, B.A. or Murdock were lost then the world would be worse off, their lives held value, meaning, purpose. They mattered and somebody would miss them, aside from them no one would miss one Templeton Peck.
He had always made sure to show no trace of these thoughts, Hannibal would want to know why he felt that way and he didn't know. He just did and it felt always had but that couldn't be true could it? Perhaps it was. He had thought himself into a headache once again.
Arriving home with his baby blues so close to breaking their just holding banks he parked behind the van, took a minute to compose himself and headed inside. Show no weakness, head high, you can do this. Everything thing is fine. I am fine.
Because he can't, he won't cry. The father's always told him to hold it in, men don't cry. They don't. So when he was pushed down the stairs at aged 8 he didn't cry, when he fell off the money bars the next year he didn't cry and thus it grew. He cried on the inside and on the odd chance he was actually alone but his masks held the emotions and pains back collecting them up and storing them deep within. But now in this moment he didn't know if he could hold up this facade anymore.
Hannibal was his superior, mentor and a lot more if he was being honest. Face was strong. He was a soldier and he didn't just feel that tears make a path down his left cheek. He wanted to have a shower so he could let it all out without being discovered as the weakling he was. Unfortunately he had dropped his head thus his eyes were on the runner on the floor not the man walking towards him form the kitchen and he bumped into Hannibal. Automatically his overused coverall mask just went straight up though it took everything he had to do it. He was mentally exhausted from his internal struggles.
"Did you get Mur- what's wrong son?" Hannibal asked as he took in his youngest walking with his head down and slumped shoulders. One second his emotions showed as his head rose, a few of them in fact and the next a neutral expression painted his features. Just like that.
"I'm good. Just thinking you know," his eyes averted Hannibal's gaze in a way he hoped looked subtle.
"Cut the crap Face, this is me. I know you, just be honest" he put a hand on Face's shoulder.
The one simple gesture and Face snapped like a rubber band over extended. Throat chocked up, tears free falling of their own accord. Silently cursing himself for the emotional show of weakness, letting his CO see him fall apart like a recruit that can't handle basic training. Like a god damned wet behind the ears rookie not a Green Beret. Not a member of the mighty A-team and most definitely not a man. So unlike the person Hannibal had come to rely on over the years. A weak, sobbing, pathetic and emotional mess. What he had until now been able to hide, the real Templeton peck.
He expected Hannibal to walk away telling him to 'pull it together soldier' or 'get a tissue' maybe even 'man up' but nothing. For him that was worse as in his experience when people were too quiet around him it usually ended in pain for him, some physical and more emotional. So he braced himself for the first strike, after a few seconds of silence and still feeling the firm hand on his should he dared look up. Expecting to see anger, disappointment, disrespect and loathing. He saw none of that, not even traces and that confused him.
Hannibal felt his youngest tense and saw the tines thin of fear sweep through him, even if he couldn't see the kid's face Hannibal was not an idiot. Face rarely flinched from anything, never had, not even when he knew his namesake was about to be targeted. Hannibal had noticed slight changes in the kid in the last few months, he had seemed a bit tenser and sometimes it was like his mind and body were two separate entity's.
He cursed himself for not saying something but Face had always been tightly strung and had always thrived under pressure. In all honestly the last few months had been hardest on Face as he had been scamming more often and Hannibal knew the kid threw all he had into everything he did. Made himself whatever part or player was needed for the team because they were all he had, and for Hannibal although he treated all his boys like his flesh and blood Face was his youngest and the neediest for affection although unlike Murdock he didn't openly ask for it. In fact quite the opposite but Hannibal had known him long enough to see beyond the fronts he put up, see the way he always let Murdock hug him, never shoving him off like B.A. or he had himself on occasion. It was almost like Face was afraid of wanting affection that perhaps stemmed from his never stable childhood? Being bounced from place to place had to have some residual effects.
"Too much buried emotion and stress will tear you apart kid, let it out" Hannibal's other hand found Face's other shoulder, bringing them closer but not quite a hug.
"I'm sorry, I can't help it, I, men don't cry" he stammered as his baby blues met Hannibal's before he dropped his glance again feeling ashamed of his unmanly display.
"Well, I wish someone would have told me that son. Many a time I cried when I thought I had lost one of you boys over the years" One of his hands moved to run through the kid's hair.
Face stood silent now as he didn't know what to say. The few times he had broken down at the orphanage had never been like this. He was yelled at, hit or both and not always be the fathers or sisters. Bullies are just as effective when it comes to weakness and they hated the pretty boy.
'I can try to pretend, I can try to forget. But it's driving me mad, going out of my head' lyrics from a song once heard that he couldn't forget because they always seemed to be about him.
"Cryin' might not solve problems but it releases tension and that's a start. You always take on so much, too much and for as long as I've know you it's been the same" He pulled face closer to him and was a little surprised to have no resistance from him.
"I can take it Hannibal, I can" His voice cracked somewhat, making it less effective. More tears feel from his baby blues.
"I know that, time and time again you have portrayed this need to keep proving yourself to me, the team. But you don't have to do it alone, let us help you son. You don't have to handle it alone"
Face's watery baby blues looked deeply into Hannibal's' eyes, saw the concern and something else, something he had to do a double take on. Affection in its most reassuring form, love, for the first time is his life he could see and thus feel someone in the world loved him. Something he never thought would apply to him, something he didn't feel deserving of.
He had been told from such a young age repeatedly that he was worthless and would amount to nothing. On occasion when he was a teen it became that he was nothing but a whore as he was always seeling or trading some part of himself, mind or body or some other service he could offer. So that's all he came to see himself as. Nothing more. Nothing unique, special or valuable. And yet in Hannibal's eyes he felt compelled to look, unable to shift his gaze. Captivated by what he could see, knowing this man had never lied to him or hurt him but still questioning why he thought that he, Templeton Peck, dime a dozen orphan from L.A was worthy of his friendship let alone any love.
A shudder wracked his body making his legs feel weak and he was sure he would have been on the floor had Hannibal not had some hold of him. He reached up and pulled himself against Hannibal's body, relished the strong arms around him and the hands rubbing circles on his back. He wasn't being rejected, shoved to the ground and yelled at or hit. He was being held and Hannibal was saying words he couldn't hear over his fast beating heart but he took the guess they soothing none the less. He was sobbing into the familiar smelling t-shirt of the man he respected most in the world and he felt relived, he had dreamed that someone would accept him for what he was but never had he been brave enough to believe that figurative person would be Hannibal Smith.
"Hannibal, I," he pulled back having to say something, though he couldn't formulate words for once in his adult life. His baby blues had currently ceased their tears.
"Hush kid, you don't have to say anything. It's okay, I've got you and I'm not going anywhere okay?" he sighed. Murdock was hauntingly brilliant but Face was beautifully broken, the two bounced off each other so easily it almost made him jealous.
Face nodded and put his head back on Hannibal's chest, soaking in this feeling as he was sure it wouldn't last much longer before Hannibal grew impatient with him. Then the yelling would come but that was okay, he could always savour this moment.
Hannibal's back was starting to complain about supporting Face's albeit minimal weight and his own and he slowly pushed the kid off him. Before he could explain Face started off towards his original destination the bathroom and thus the shower. At least he didn't hit me. It was a moment I will forever treasure.
Hannibal came up and gently reached Face's shoulder halting his forward momentum and the kid paused thinking perhaps he was wrong. Maybe he had made it worse be leaving, by taking only what he wanted and not what he deserved too.
"m Sorry Hannibal" he mumbled, hands fidgeting nervously.
"I'm the one that should be sorry kid. I didn't mean to reject you, god I'd never, not like that but my back's complaining" His hand that was on Face lightly squeezing his right shoulder like he had done a hundred times or more.
Face met his eyes and his namesake titled slightly to one side and he looked confused.
"Oh Face, if we can sit on something I'll happily stay with you. I won't leave you" Not like so many have in your life. I couldn't do that, at least not by choice.
"W-what? Why? I'm not special, just a whore, a nothing, nothing" Face said finishing in such a soft tone Hannibal had to strain to hear him. Almost wishing that he hadn't.
Face's feelings of self-worth or rather lack thereof were common fact in the tight knit unit but that still didn't stop the sting in Hannibal's heart as he replayed what his son had just said about himself, about how he saw himself and what he believed he was.
"But you're not a nothing kid. You're special and unique and oh Face, you are not a whore. Why would you say that?" Wanting love and craving affection does not make you a whore and I have never associated that word with you kid.
"Because its true!" How can so many foster parents, priests, nuns and other children be so wrong? I just do what I was born to do. One of my many survival mechanisms.
"No," Hannibal said a little harsher than he intended too and adjusted his tone "it's not and I don't want my son to talk about himself like that"
"My whole life I've been selling my body for; wait your son? Hannibal I'm not worth, why would you?" Face had to question if he heard the word my because subconsciously he wanted to, wanted to finally have a connection like most of the rest of the world. Beyond just the friendships of the team.
"Face aside from not being my biological child you have grown up as my son. I've been privileged to see you grow up and turn into the wonderful man you are today. A man that cares about others and is reliable and trustworthy. So, to me you are my son" Hannibal was on the verge of tears.
Face just looked at Hannibal for a moment in awe as he took in what he had just heard. The little boy that no one wanted, the child bounced from placed to place, could he finally have found someone to care for him? Had said person been right here for many years? It was a lot to take in.
"Hannibal" Face almost cried, voice charged with happiness as he hugged him as hard as he could.
"Yes son, I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. Uh, except a couch or something" Hannibal's back had stared its protest again as soon as the limpet had clung to him again. Aside from that he would love nothing more than he hold Face as long as his son needed him to.
"Sorry Hannibal," he moved back looking apologetic at forgetting Hannibal's previous request of similar nature. "To the den?" Face searched Hannibal for approval.
"Sounds great son" Hannibal followed with a curt nod.
And with that his son smiled and Hannibal couldn't help but mirror him. Face let Hannibal sit down first on the navy three seater couch pleased they were the only ones in this room of the house. Hannibal rested his feet on the matching ottoman as Face came to sit beside him, he rested his head against Hannibal's shoulder slowly like he was sure Hannibal would change his mind. Hannibal got one of the cushions from the other side of Face and put it on his lap.
"C'mon Face, I won't change my mind about this" I promise kid. I will not be another in the long line of people that promise you things they have no intention of doing and I will never intentionally hurt you physically or otherwise.
Slowly and gently he pulled Face by the shoulder until his head found Hannibal's lap and those puffy baby blue eyes looked up and him. Face snuggled into the cushion as he kept Hannibal's gaze taking in the soft smile which put him at ease a little. Hannibal brought one hand to run through Face's hair who relaxed more at the gentle touch and he let out a soft sigh.
"I, I always hoped if I had a, a father he'd be like you," Face chocked out and then he felt his cheeks blush from his personal revelation.
"I feel honoured kid," Hannibal felt a lump in his throat and knew he must be on the brink of tears himself.
He brushed one hand across Face's cheek and he made the faintest noise of contentment as his eyes fluttered briefly. Probably didn't even realise he thought. It's something he's never know, pure unadulterated affection with no added strings or wants. Something so basic that it should have been a given to any child. So much he missed out on in his life, things most take for granted growing up. I know I did.
B.A. poked his head in the den took in Face and Hannibal having an I-don't-want-to what-what -the-hell-that-is-about moment and turned on his heel for any other room in the house. Face hadn't registered B.A.'s brief appearance in the doorway and Hannibal hadn't cared what it looked like from the outside. He knew what it was, a loving father comforting his youngest and aching son.
Face told Hannibal some of what had been eating him up, about how he didn't know why he felt these things, how they were getting worse and how scared he was that maybe he was losing his mind. The one thing that no one had ever been able to take from him. The last thing that was still wholly innocent and his, still Templeton Peck and not Face. Hannibal had stayed almost silent as his son had bared his soul, confronted and shared his problems. He had tried to keep eyed contact but those blues eye were so intense that a few times he had to look away though only briefly and he kept listening.
The more he learned about Face, his past, himself, the more Hannibal wanted to hold the kid and never let go. Protect him from everything bad and only let him experience the best things in life like he deserved. Face was always so loyal and tentative and yet is so fractured but he goes on.
"Son, I want to help but honestly I'm out of my depth. I think we should visit the doctors?"
"I, I don't like doctors, Hannibal, I don't want to," he tensed up again remembering a bad experience with the doctor that set his arm when he was eight. All those needles and what he did when the nun left. Face couldn't fight he was injured and he was eight. That was the first in a long line of things he repressed, about the time he being to wear the masks.
Hannibal saw the expressions play across Face's namesake and felt the shake rake his body. Whatever he was remembering wasn't pleasant. How many awful memories did his son have, how many things had been buried deep in his mind over the years between the war and his childhood? Hannibal didn't know exactly, part of him didn't want to know because he knew it would break his heart. When he had first met Face despite the kid's masks he could read he was covering up things and back then he just focused on keeping the kid alive and trying to focus some to the kid's energy on anything but suicide missions which he would volunteer for at the drop of a hat, until Hannibal recruited him to his unit. He and Murdock had clicked and the rest is history.
"What if I came with you?" Hannibal put forward. Because you need more help than I can give and I want to better son. This isn't a patch job it needs professional experience.
"And hold my hand?" he shook his head "I'm not a kid anymore" Not that eight year old kid. No, I can do this. It won't be the same doctor.
"You are to me. What if I just came for emotional support, that be okay?"
"I, I could handle that and once I can get past these I will be more handy," I don't want to be a dead weight. The way we live we all have to pitch in.
"You're always useful Face, don't ever think otherwise. You will always have a place with us" Hannibal kissed him chastely on the forehead.
Yes Face thought. I have my family and I guess I have for sometimes. You my strong father, Murdock my manic by playful brother and B.A. my well, older brother that beats up people who hurt me. Templeton Peck has a family.
Face turned to face Hannibal's chest and let his puffy eyes close, his hands held his father's shirt hem and he snuggled further into the cushion. Feeling very safe and letting his walls fade away knowing this was one of the few people he had ever met that he trusted enough to do so around the others being his two big brothers.
-Fini-
20.9.2011