Disclaimer: no recognizable characters are mine. Others may or may not reside solely in my head.
Notes: this was prompted on the Live Journal A-Team Meme: The condom broke, the diaphragm popped, the batch of depo-provera got recalled, whatever. She didn't want to, but it happened. She couldn't choose an abortion so, she took a leave of absence and had the baby and gave it away. And then Face finds out that he's got a kid somewhere in the system...
They were hard to find.
That was the point though, wasn't it? Being on the run, staying one or preferably five steps ahead of the MPs?
So it was odd that after so many years, after hearing she was on the case and then off the case, on and off again and again that Charissa Sosa was able to track them down.
To be truthful: she did not track them down.
She made them contact her.
With a grim expression that quelled the bickering B.A. and Murdock were engaged in regarding the proper amount of warfarin to season stew with (B.A.: none; Murdock: just enough to give it flavor but not enough to cause platelet problems so they'd bleed out), Hannibal snapped the newspaper he'd been reading and handed it wordlessly to Face.
The conman took it gingerly. He didn't like reading these semi-pseudo newspapers, the "City Papers" that were in so many metropolitan areas. Hannibal read them, looking for job leads. Face was more technologically advanced. He watched Craigslist and other, more obscure web catalogues.
Hannibal had been kind enough to circle, in red ink, the classified ad.
Face read it. He read it again. The third time through he mouthed the words, as if doing so would make them magically make sense.
Murdock scrambled behind him to read it. Typically he'd snatch the paper—a paper, a book, a remote control, whatever—out of Face's hands, but the severe look making deep lines in Hannibal's face hadn't softened, so he contented himself with looking.
Since Face was still silently processing the words, Murdock read them aloud for B.A.'s benefit.
"Urgent! Templeton Peck! Concerns of the past are in the past, save one. Contact me! Urgent! C. Sosa."
Murdock typically had a fair impersonation of her; but out of the blue like that the words were Texan flavored.
"What in the wild wild world of sports is goin' on here, Faceman?" the pilot asked.
Face didn't rise to the bait of a Mel Brooks' reference. "I don't know," he answered quietly, his own brow furrowed.
"Could be nothin'," B.A. said.
No one answered him.
"Could be a trap," B.A. said.
Everyone else was still quiet.
"Could be another Templeton Peck?" B.A. said.
Even Hannibal rolled his eyes at that.
"What do you think, Lieutenant?"
Face was finally able to drag his gaze back up to the older man, but it was obvious the ad still held him mesmerized.
"I have no clue," he replied, in a variation of his response to Murdock. "I have no clue."