Fifteen Slow Dances

TITLE: Fifteen Slow Dances

AUTHOR: Hectical

RATING: T for now.

SUMMARY: A collection of fics built around a theme – the slow dance. Expect fisticuffs, friendship, family, fancy footwork and maybe a little romance with fics set in the past, present and future of The A-Team. (non-slash, all-canon-all-the-time)

DISCLAIMER: Written for pleasure, no profit gained, The A-Team and associated concepts and characters are not my intellectual property, I'm just a big 80s nerd and Steven J Cannell is my god. You know, the usual.

NOTES: I'm not a big fan of song fic – so naturally I decided to turn my hand to it. Be as critical as you please, I acknowledge some of these could use some slash and burn. - H

When I Fall In Love

In the grip of a very bad day, Face find solace in an unexpected place.

"I need your head in the game, Face, and I mean all the way in," Hannibal had said in the relative private a shadowed street corner as they prepared to meet the others in the lobby of the Hamilton Grand which stood, just as grandly as its name suggested it might, across the busy street. "Whatever – or whoever – it is, leave it behind. Okay?"

Face nodded. He must have let his cool slide for a moment. It only took a moment for Hannibal's keen eyed gaze to focus on his slip. In his defence, he thought, he hadn't slept in thirty-five hours and had been hit on the head twice in the last eight. Twelve hours ago he'd broken it off with Holly Van Vieren in a boutique restaurant in Bel Air. They'd met for brunch, she'd worn a green Gucci shirt, he'd broken her heart and gotten his coffee to go. He'd been with her for a month and she was a nice kid, brunette, pretty, educated, ambitious, just the kind of woman he wanted – but lately she'd been talking about leaving a toothbrush at his place and that meant that the death knell had sounded loud and clear for that relationship. Four weeks was just about his safe limit anyway. After that girls started asking questions that he couldn't answer and wanted definites he couldn't give. Holly hadn't started with the questions yet but he could see it coming. He'd been as gentle as he could but couldn't give her an answer that didn't sound contrived and like a lie when she asked where it went wrong. When he'd walked away he'd seen her shoulders trembling and mascara running down one cheek and felt distinctly like an asshole. It wasn't the first time and wouldn't be the last. Those were the breaks.

"Hey," Hannibal said sharply, forcing Face to concentrate on him completely. "I don't know what's up with you today, lieutenant, but secure it and move on." He frowned and relented a little. His tone was a little softer when he went on. "Tomorrow you can count the colours in the rainbow, Face, but tonight we have to catch some cons. Right?"

Again, Face nodded. "I'm here. I'm ready."

Hannibal studied him for a moment then nodded, once, affirming the statement. "Good. I can see Murdock and BA inside the doors…" He squinted at the grand entrance to the hotel, past the door man in his tall hat and past the crystal gleam of the glass doors. "And there's Amy. The gang's all here. Let's go."

He hustled Face across the street and the two men pushed through the revolving doors together.

oOooOooOo

Amy was wearing a figure hugging dress the exact emerald shade that Holly had been wearing. Yes, this was definitely one of the days that the Universe hated him.

She looked confident and was laughing at something BA had said as Face approached her. He felt jittery in a way that was setting off warning bells. He'd have to move carefully on this one, make sure he didn't trip. He got like this sometimes, like his bones were softening and his every secret was on display. One day, in a mood like this, he might just deliberately stumble over a cue or forget a line just to see what happened, like he might opt to fight his way out instead of talk his path to the door. This streak of black self-destruction was like a tide, like winter – natural. They all got swamped by it sometimes, even the unflappable BA. When it was his turn he just managed it as carefully as he did anything else that threatened his comfort and self control including the people he knew. He'd need to stay focussed, keep his head in the game, concentrate and get through it and, as Hannibal said, take some time when this was over to count the colours in the rainbow and get over it. Holly. Get over Holly. Or, rather, the angry, melancholic sensation of being scum that he associated with Holly and a dozen girls before her.

Amy flashed him a white smile when he reached her.

"Face, where have you been? We've been waiting for you for forever!" She nodded over his shoulder to Hannibal. She looked calm and collected, like she usually did. It grated on his nerves. He could do this on his own. He didn't need to be babysitting a civilian.

"It's been an hour," he replied smoothly. "I had to change. We can't all be as naturally beautiful as you."

She shrugged, accepting the compliment and, he sensed, choosing to ignore the barb in his tone. "So we go in and find McNiven and Ferdinand. Distract, divide and conquer, right?"

"You distract," he said firmly, taking her arm. "I conquer."

She shook her arm loose, shooting him a puzzled look. "Yeah, okay, caveman. You get to do the conquering. No argument here."

Face was aware that he was holding himself carefully, like he might break his ribs if he moved too fast or breathed too heavily. He hated it when he got like this. Forcing his shoulders to drop and relax, he gave Amy an apologetic smile.

BA handed Amy a small tracking device. "All you gotta do is slip this into his pocket. Pants are better than jacket. Jackets get taken off." He tossed a second sliver of metal to Face.

Amy nodded and tucked the device into her bra before looking up and meeting the gazes of the men around her.

"I don't have pockets in this dress," she said. Hannibal twitched his mouth into a quick grin. Face fidgeted with his cufflinks, eager to get going and not at all interested in Amy's bra or lack of pockets.

"Amy," Hannibal said, " remember, all you have to do is get Ferdinand away from Andy McNiven and plant the tracker. Face, you know what to do of course."

He nodded. He knew. He always knew. Mostly he could figure out what Hannibal had running around his labyrinthine brain before the colonel could articulate his plans to the others. This time the plan was simple. Amy's involvement was the only weak point he could see but Hannibal couldn't be dissuaded. Face knew that even the easiest marks could turn savage at a mistimed or clumsily delivered line. He'd seen Amy pull off other jobs but every time she was involved he was holding his breath and hoping to hell she wouldn't get them killed. It wasn't that he didn't like her. She was okay by him in general. Running a con was often the same as facing an armed opponent and she was both a civilian and a woman. The firing line was no place for either.

As soon as they entered the ballroom, Amy took his arm and pulled him to one side. He shook her off and frowned at her.

"What?"

She looked up at him with a serious expression and crossed her arms.

"You've been off all day, Face. Is there anything I should know about before we do this?"

He brushed the lapels of his jacket and scanned the room for Ferdinand or McNiven.

"No, I'm fine. If you had doubts about this, you should have raised them with Hannibal."

She laid a hand on his arm and moved into his field of vision. He saw something in her face shift from unease to sympathy.

"I didn't want to make a big deal. I'm just worried about you today."

Blessedly, she backed off and moved a few paces away, tilting her head and looking at the faces of the men gathered beside the bar. The ceiling was high and the three chandeliers were tastefully modern. At the far end of the room, beside the bar, a cover band offered their versions of old favourite songs beside a shiny parquet dance floor. The sign on the easel by the door read "Welcome Alumni – Go Prairie Dogs!" Under other circumstances, Face might have been able to relax, enjoy himself and the challenge of blending in. The room was crowded with former students of Grasslands High School here to celebrate the school's seventieth anniversary. People were laughing and dancing, remembering each other and wishing they could be forgotten. Somewhere in the crowd, David Ferdinand and Andy McNiven were circulating and drinking with their old high school buddies. Somewhere in the desert, they had the client's brother held hostage. Face wore a nametag that declared him to be Steve Wozniak and Amy's labelled her as Abby Lemon. Wozniak was serving a nickel in Iowa for fraud but the client, a former Grasslands student himself, had helpfully pointed out that the resemblance between him and Face was close enough to pass if Face avoided anyone who had been good friends with him – if any such creature existed in the first place. Amy was simply going as Steve's girlfriend. Her cover story was her own property, if she decided to make one up. They weren't going to be there long enough to spend much time making friends with the locals.

Face stood with Andy McNiven and watched over his shoulder as Amy tactfully pulled Dave Ferdinand's hand off her backside as he attempted a clumsy cha cha.

"So you were in the class of '65?" McNiven was frowning, his moustache creased with the effort of thought. He was tall and broad and Face figured McNiven could probably bench press him ten times without stopping.

"That's right. With Rhonda Beale and Jeff Muller," he improvised, running a nervous finger around his collar and slanting a furtive look around the room. He glanced over at Amy again. She was leaning back, out of Ferdinand's range, as he tried to kiss her, a smile pasted on her face. His part was easy compared to hers, it seemed. He took his handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at some imaginary sweat on his brow before clearing his throat. Was he going to have to hold up some subtitles for this guy to get the hint? Finally he managed to let out a nervous giggle at something McNiven said and the other man looked at him with a wary expression.

"Say, Wozniak, you look a little shook up."

Finally. Face nodded and leaned in confidentially. "Well, to be honest, Andy, I wasn't too sure how to raise this with you."

McNiven raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Out with it, mister. You got something to tell me?"

Face nodded and cleared his throat, perfectly recalling the story he needed to deliver. "See, my car got broken into today. Terrible thing. They stole my stereo and Abby's purse. So we went to the sheriff's office. Remember I told your pal Dave there that I thought I knew him from somewhere? It was from there. He was real friendly with one of the sheriff's men. Thing is, and I really don't want to make trouble here, but – I heard your name mentioned more than once. Something about a bank?" Face did his best impression of a scared petty crook. "I've been in trouble with Mr Law one or two times myself, you know, petty stuff in the corn belt mostly, but I thought you should know."

He watched as McNiven's brows knit together and saw him cast a black look at Ferdinand as Amy pulled his hand off her breast. He pawed at her again and she twisted away in an effort to avoid his forceful grip. The smile was still on her face but it had a cast of desperation about it. Face frowned. That was a bit much. He'd intervene in a minute, once McNiven was on his way. The big man turned back toward Face.

"Why are you telling me?"

Face shrugged and reached out to clasp the other man's arm in a gesture of solidarity, slipping a tracking device into his jacket pocket. He wasn't going to try for the pants, no matter what BA said.

"Like I said, I've been there, man. Just finished a nickel because my buddy couldn't keep his trap shut. Rhonda Beale mentioned you fondly so I thought I should tell you. You know, liberty, fraternity, all that."

He was moving, walking, forcing McNiven to keep pace with him, moving farther away from Ferdinand to keep the other man off balance, looking backward, losing focus on Face and what he was saying. McNiven nodded distractedly. Face was pleased. Job done. These guys weren't smart but they were the blunt instruments that would lead them to the real bad guys.

"Well, alright, thanks," McNiven ground out. "I don't owe you nothin', Wozniak, but thanks."

"Go Prairie Dogs," Face replied, straight faced. He followed McNiven onto the dance floor and pulled an unresisting Amy into his arms as McNiven hauled his partner away toward the door, muttering darkly. Couples moved around them in a slow orbit to something romantic the band was playing. Hannibal and BA would pick the two men up at the door and tail them using the tracking devices. Face waited until they moved away into the crowd before he stopped smiling and loosened his grip on Amy, looking down at her.

"You okay?"

After a moment, she nodded. "He didn't try for more than a grope." She ran uncomfortable hands over herself. "But that was enough." She moved one hand to her hair and looked up at Face. "Next time BA gets to be the bait."

Face chuckled despite his black mood. "Did you get the tracker planted?"

He wasn't surprised when she nodded. "Of course. To be honest, he hardly noticed."

When she reached for him and pulled his arms around her, pulled him into a slow, careful dance, he was startled.

"What are you doing?"

She lifted her head and looked him in the face. "So what happened with Holly?"

The question took him by surprise. He shook his head. He wasn't going to go into it. The con worked and they needed to rendezvous with Murdock. He went to pull away and she tightened her grip, shaking her head.

"No, you don't. Talk, my friend. Who am I going to tell your secrets to?"

"Your readers?"

She laughed. "Face, the only people interested in reading about your romantic exploits already know about them first hand."

He frowned at her then relented. It was Amy. She irritated the hell out of him more often than not and there were plenty of times that he had suggested cutting her loose from the team but he knew where he stood with her. Also, he knew first hand that once she got something into her head she didn't let it go until she got an answer. "I ended it."

She gave his hand a squeeze and he saw sympathy in her every line. "I'm sorry Face. I know you liked her a lot." She gave him a small smile. "It won't last forever."

"What?" He found he rather liked the way her dress felt under his hand. "What won't last forever?"

"Your enforced bachelorhood. One day you'll meet a nice girl who can hang around forever and put up with your mess."

Her assertion was oddly comforting, not that he would ever mention it.

"It's not enforced," he replied, feeling a sudden urge to defend himself. "I'm just not a forever kind of guy. I meet plenty of nice girls."

Amy slanted him a doubtful look. "Okay."

"Holly was a nice girl."

"Yes, she was."

"Denise Hall."

Amy raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

Face nodded. "Very nice. To look at. And in other ways."

"Uh huh." She sounded disapproving. He looked down at her.

"I'm a fugitive."

She shook her head. "Details. What's your point?"

"You started this," he said, surprised that he was bothering to talk to her at all. This was something new. Usually he talked to Murdock or Hannibal when he was in this kind of space.

"I see the state you're in Face," she said simply. "So do the others."

"And? Look," he said, suddenly intensely uncomfortable, "we need to meet Murdock. My personal life is absolutely none of your business."

"I agree. The sordid details hardly keep me up at night, but your personal life is infringing on mine and that is my business."

He raised one eyebrow, feeling besieged. "Yours?"

She nodded.

"You radiate doubt, Face, and that makes you dangerous today."

He pushed her away and stood looking at her warily, angry. Other couples paused to watch them.

"We need to meet Murdock. We're leaving."

She eyed him with a slightly hurt expression. "You seemed upset about Holly. I thought you could use some time to talk."

"I don't talk," he replied bitingly. Her demeanour didn't change.

"Maybe that's your problem," she said, taking a step toward him and hesitating for a moment before she reached out and took his hand. "I don't want to upset you Face. I'm sorry." She looked away for a moment then back at him. "Come on, let's go meet Murdock." She released his hand and turned away. Struck by a baffling sensation he couldn't easily name, he reached for her and pulled her back toward him.

"Amy, wait," he began and sighed. She stepped back into his arms and looked at him warily. He opened his mouth but he honestly couldn't think of any more words to say. She nodded and moved in to carefully wrap her arms around his neck. He tensed. Sharing and crying and holding hands was not something he – or any of them except perhaps occasionally Murdock – ever did. When the black mood hit they would pull on the boxing gloves or shoot some cans, maybe run a mile or two, and wait for it to pass as it always did. This was wasting time. Murdock was waiting. Instead he began to move, to steer her carefully around the dance floor to the old tune that the band were playing, finding the sensation of her arms around him and the slow dance music brought him focus. As they moved he exhaled a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, felt himself release his tension a little and breathe more easily. Face liked human contact. He always had. He held his personal space like defended ground, usually, but the physicality of someone close to him, touching him, spoke to something childlike within him and calmed him more than an outsider might think it could.

"Relax, Face," Amy said quietly. "You need to relax and we'll all breathe easier. Why don't you go get a massage or something when this over?"

He looked at her. "A massage?"

She shrugged bonelessly and grinned. "I'm more used to comforting girlfriends after a break up. A massage, a new pair of shoes, a trip to a cocktail bar on ladies night. I'm not sure what an uptight fugitive special forces guy does in this situation."

He fought a smile. "Well we don't get a massage." Obscurely, he acknowledged that on some level he was drawing comfort from someone being willing to comfort him. The team were his brothers and he would die for each of them in a heartbeat, but they were not often able to offer this kind of comfort, the kind that included arms and hands and the sensation of skin. It was primal. He took what he needed, as he always had, from strangers, women he met. The life he lived, he needed comforting from time to time. He'd never really had a woman offer it as a friend, without sex or seduction or any effort on his part. Amy looked up at him seriously.

"New shoes?"

"A trip to a cocktail bar on ladies night," he replied. "More my scene."

"That's what got you into this mess," she said. "Why not try a pottery class or something next time?"

He didn't bother fighting his smile. Something lifted just a tiny bit inside him. She studied him and, after a moment, nodded in satisfaction.

They didn't talk again for a minute. Their slow path took them closer to the stage and the band. With a start, Face recognised the tune they were playing. A cook in the mess at Da Nang had been a big Johnny Mathis fan and had sung that song nearly every morning as he reconstituted the eggs and burned the coffee. What was it called?

As if she was a mind reader, Amy sighed. "I love this song. I wish I could remember what it's called. Something about forever." She looked at him with a smile. "How appropriate."

He recalled the words suddenly.

When I fall in love it will be forever
Or I'll never fall in love…
It was like the Universe really did hate him, sometimes.

The song ended and Amy stepped out of his arms, smiling. "Come on, we have to meet Murdock."

oOooOooOo

They walked together to the door. Murdock was waiting for them, relaxed and unconcerned by the delay, cross legged on a seat in the tiled lobby. He unfolded himself as they approached and Face caught the little questioning look he shot Amy. She gave Murdock a small nod and a wink and Face caught on quickly. The whole thing had been a set up for his sake. Amy preceded them out the doors and into the street. Face caught Murdock's arm.

"What was that about?"

Murdock paused and Face set himself up for a denial but instead the pilot looked thoughtful.

"You were in that mood again. We saw it. I'd snuggle you myself except I figured you'd probably punch me."

"And I wouldn't punch Amy?"

Murdock shrugged and gave him a loopy smile. Face shook his head, feeling a little more of the black mood lift away.

"I hoped you wouldn't hit a girl," his friend replied, and threw an arm around his shoulders and planted a wet kiss on his cheek anyway. They pushed through the revolving door and met Amy on the street.

"Let's go catch some bad guys, friends," Face said, meaning every word.