Author's Note: Hello, everybody! I am a new convert to the A-Team fandom; I was introduced to the show only last month. Face would make a perfect and dreamy date, Murdock would be the sweetest and most fun best friend ever, and Hannibal has gotta be the coolest old guy on the face of the earth throughout the course of history. But anyway, this is my first fanfiction for the fandom, and I realize that it is pitifully out of character. But I had fun writing it, and a friend, who read it and who also loves the A-Team , urged me to put it up on the site. So. *hides in embarrassment*. Please, please leave me your opinions, and I would absolutely LOVE criticism. Anything at all you can find that could be fixed, please let me know! I want to get better at this. :)
Disclaimer: I don't own the A-Team. I don't own Hannibal's "baby", Face's 'vette, BA's gold, or Murdock's bomber jacket. (though I do own a replica of it. Yeah, I'm a geek.) I don't own the van. In short, they don't belong to me. I'm seeing a therapist to come to terms with the fact. ;)
Insubordination, Lieutenant
"I think we're going to have a heyday, boys," Hannibal grinned, chewing the end of the burned-out cigar and pulling at his hallmark black gloves, as if he could possibly make them fit any better. They hugged the man's hands perfectly already, like a second skin.
"Yeah man, we gonna show dem suckers what dey weren't even bargainin' fo'," BA agreed, nodding his head once and allowing a rare smile to brighten his dark face. Sometimes the Jazz was contagious, though nobody got as hyped as the Colonel. Murdock wailed some kind of cheer from the back seat that sounded like a cross between an Indian war whoop and a hound dog's bay, before turning his attention once again to the mouth harp he'd been clacking his teeth with all morning in an attempt to make it twang. A groan from Face had everyone rolling their eyes.
Apparently the Jazz wasn't always contagious.
"Aw, Hannibal, do we have to? I mean, honestly now. The last job we did went off without a hitch; we have a couple thousand dollars in commission. Not a lot, but enough to give us a few weeks without worry. I could have set us up with a nice place, we could have laid low for awhile and taken a breather. Decker's not onto us. We lost him over a month ago, so why can't we relax for once?"
"We green berets, fool! We don't need no relaxin'."
"Facey's just sore that he had to cancel his dinner date. Perty little red-head. Pipi Longstocking, but without the freckles," Murdock put in.
"And with a better wardrobe," Face muttered. "And anyway, that is not why I-"
"Then what exactly are you trying to say, Lieutenant?" Hannibal cut in, taking the cigar out of his mouth and looking less than amused.
"I just don't see why you need to rush nonstop all the time...look fellas, a well-rounded personality includes strong, tough aspects as well as an element of culture, and the realisation that it's often quite beneficial to enjoy the better things in life."
Murdock finally managed several energetic boing sounds on the mouth harp and then nodded, beaming, at Face.
"Preach it, Faceman, I can feel the truth of your words flowing through the air like the heavenly vibrations of this little metal instrument. You know, Face, I really think the Jews' harp is one of those better things of life you were talking about; just listen..."
"Murdock, not now, please," Face interrupted, "Would you put that thing away?"
"Both of you fools talking stupid talk. We ain't got no life. We on da run."
Face sat up straight, and his eyes grew wider in indignation.
"Hey! Some appreciation that is. Gee, thanks, BA. After all I do to make your day-to-day existence half-way decent with my acquisitions-"
"ENOUGH."
The van fell silent at Hannibal's sudden command. It wasn't a roar, it was far too controlled for that. But it was sharp, and incredibly loud. He was using his colonel voice. Murdock immediately dropped his eyes to his lap and BA took a deep breath to calm down.
"Sorry, Hannibal. Shouldn't have let those crazy suckers get to me."
"Darn right, you shouldn't have. Now, I want silence in this vehicle until the next stop. That is a direct order. Is that understood?"
"Yes sir!" The chorus of dutiful military reply was conspicuously short of one voice.
"Lieutenant. I didn't hear an acknowledgment," Hannibal said, his tone carefully neutral but clearly holding a warning nonetheless. He turned in his seat to look back at Face, who stared levelly back with his arms crossed.
Face raised his eyebrows as if feigning that he hadn't heard or didn't know what was expected of him. He didn't speak a word. Hannibal's own brows lowered in displeasure.
"I will repeat the order. Quiet will be implemented in this van until the next stop. Am I understood, Lieutenant Peck?"
Face paused, and then nodded once.
"Face..." Hannibal warned.
"I am under orders to remain silent, so I cannot acknowledge you. Sir."
Hannibal couldn't understand it. What had gotten into the kid? Face was never like this. Whatever the reason for this rebellious outbreak, Hannibal couldn't let it slide. A team was built on authority. It was the thing that protected each member, the thing that helped them function as a unit, and one to be reckoned with, at that.
A thing that had to be upheld.
"BA, pull over," he said, quietly.
BA didn't ask any questions. Neither did he have to be told twice. The blinker clicked as the van eased over to the right, off the side of the highway and slowed to a stop. BA put the hazard lights on.
"Get out of the van," Hannibal said, shortly. He clamped the cigar in the corner of his mouth again, and climbed out of the vehicle himself. Face hesitated for a moment, but when BA turned around and glared at him with a little growl... ("Do what da man says or I'll throw you out, sucker!") and Murdock gave him some timid but wide-eyed advice...("You might want to listen, Face-guy...colonel's mad.") he sighed and pulled back the van door to clamber out.
"Close the door," Hannibal ordered. Face was all too willing to obey that one; whatever the boss was about to say or do, he was sure he didn't want the rest of the team listening in. He dragged the van door shut and turned to face the colonel.
Hannibal looked his Lieutenant up and down as he stood before him, chin jutting in defiance but his eyes betraying uncertainty. Hannibal put his hands on his hips and blew a puff of smoke from his cigar.
"Alright Face, let's talk. What's eating you?"
"I'm sorry?" Face asked, looking slightly taken aback but still maintaining a belligerent tone. "What exactly do you mean, Colonel?" He crossed his arms over his chest in a defensive posture, without realizing he was doing so.
"You're acting like a snotty, rebellious teenager, kid. Like some kind of new recruit with an attitude and a problem with authority; and this isn't you. I want to know what's going on, and I want to know now."
Face bristled at the bit about being a new recruit. After all he'd done, after all the sweat and blood he'd paid to become a green beret, after all the hell-storms and screaming bullets he'd braved, after everything he'd been through with the team, proving himself any bit as solid as the rest of them...a green recruit? Really?!
Hannibal watched the kid stiffen; watched him spurred into a higher level of irritation. Inwardly he felt a firm satisfaction. The sooner this was brought to a head, the sooner Face would snap and spill what was really going on. His job was to goad his lieutenant out into the open.
"Now look, hang on, hang on a minute here. I may be the youngest, but I can certainly take care of myself. We're not in the military anymore, not strictly speaking, anyway, so I'm under no obligation to let you barge into my personal life. We're on an even footing, Colonel; I'm my own man."
"Your own man, yes. But you're on the run, same as the rest of us, and it was your decision to stay with this team." Hannibal jabbed his cigar in Face's direction. His voice was stern. "Teammates trust each other, kid. They don't sulk like four year olds."
"Yeah, see, that's another thing! You never call Murdock or BA 'kid'. Sure, sometimes you call Amy that, but it's like... like some kind of possessive fatherly thing or something, you know? I didn't ask for that; I didn't-" Face broke off, a little sound of frustration cutting off whatever he was going to say next.
"I admit I've been a little more personal with you than with the rest of the team. That's my fault and it shows poor leadership; not because I cared about you but because I didn't care about them the same way."
Hannibal paused for a sigh.
"When you joined up, Face, in 'Nam, you were just a kid in way over his head. You were too young even to be there, but you showed promise. You showed promise, even when you were scared half to death, lieutenant."
Face remembered. Playing the soldier during the day, doing the motions, shooting the guns, dragging wounded men back, surviving living death. He'd felt utterly and completely lost. He wasn't even supposed to be there. But he pushed on. He followed orders. He remembered one day he saved a man's life, and had come close to dying himself. He'd had to take down two enemy soldiers on his own, sharpshooting, with his hands shaking like leaves. He was sick immediately after, but he'd done it. And that night he'd hid under his blanket on his cot as if he could shut out the nightmare, and cried. He had been a kid. Just a kid. But the next day he'd been throwing himself into the work with the best of them.
Yes. Face remembered.
Hannibal took the cigar out of his mouth and checked the end, thoughtfully. It had gone out. He rolled it slowly back and forth between his fingers. "I didn't want anything to happen to you, so I took to keeping you close. You were one of the best men I ever had, but you were young. You needed someone looking out for you, Face. And I guess I thought I was the one with the job."
"You're not the first one!" Face burst out, suddenly. "You probably think you were the only one to stick up for the scrawny little foundling, huh? Well you weren't, Hannibal."
Hannibal watched him, and chewed at the cigar. This was it. He was ready to tell.
"Face," he said, his voice low, "Is something the matter? With someone you know?"
Face paused to try and pull it together. He ran a hand over his eyes and consciously made an effort to relax his shoulders. He took a deep breath and a sigh, and then looked back up at Hannibal. He nodded.
"Yeah," he admitted, quietly. "Yeah. Father Timothy; he used to visit the orphanage on holidays to bring the kids charity gifts. I found out while we were on the last job. When Murdock and me had to pose as doctors in that elderly home at Tanglewood, he was there. He...he wasn't doing too good, Hannibal. I didn't get to talk to him; too many things happening, but…" Face paused and shook his head, vigorously, as if trying to come out of the mood he'd fallen into and forget about the whole thing. He didn't like having his mask down. It felt vulnerable.
He crossed his arms and turned, to walk a few steps away. It was getting dark, and somewhat chilly on the side of the highway. BA was probably getting impatient. Murdock was probably driving him nuts.
Man, but Face was starting to feel embarrassed over this whole stupid thing.
"We can go," Face said, finally, his voice apologetic, "It's fine, Hannibal, I'm fine, really. Look, I'm sorry for flying off the handle; I've been under a lot of pressure is all, with that colossal scam we had to pull, and I-"
"Face," Hannibal interrupted. Face stopped talking immediately and stood up straighter.
"Sir?"
"If we're going to make it back to Tanglewood before the day's visiting hours are over, we should probably get going." Hannibal gave a small, slow smile and clamped a fresh cigar between his teeth.
Face stared at him, taken aback, but the colonel was already climbing back into the front seat of the van, asking over his shoulder, "Got a light?"
"...what? Oh! Oh, yeah-"
It took a moment for Face to register, but then he scrambled to get the lighter out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Hannibal. Apparently realizing he was about to get left, he jumped up into his seat and slide the van door closed.
"Thanks," Hannibal said around the cigar clamped between his teeth, as he lit up. "Let's go, guys. BA, turn us around."
"You got it, man. Where we headed?"
"Tanglewood Care Facility. We'll need to be there before seven."
Murdock turned to Face with a look of questioning incredulity as BA swung the van around and got back on the highway, heading in the opposite direction they'd been traveling for the last hour. If he was going one or two miles over the speed limit, (or ten or fifteen) nobody commented.
"Did you...what happened out there, Faceguy? What did you say to 'im; what's goin' on?" Murdock leaned over toward his pal and delivered his rapid-fire stream of questions in a hushed voice. BA and Hannibal were discussing whether they had time to stop and get something to eat up front. "Colonel don't seem mad no more."
Face still felt a little shocked.
"We talked," he said, "And that's all."
"And he let you win?" Murdock's voice was quiet, but incredulous.
Face looked up toward Hannibal's seat. He could just see the white shoulder and sleeve of Hannibal's jacket around the edge of the passenger backrest. He realized now. How Hannibal had baited him, had drawn him out, how he'd played him from the very first to find out what was really going on. And yet, Hannibal hadn't lied to do it, like Face would have. The young conman knew that everything his leader said, he could trust. Hannibal had meant every word of it, but he'd still been able to get the truth out of Face. And that was something that nobody could do.
"No. No, he didn't. I didn't win. Hannibal did." He turned to Murdock and offered a cryptic smile. The pilot studied him for a moment, and then shrugged. He crossed his arms and made a smug I-couldn't-care-less face, while shaking his head.
"Keep your secret if you want to, Faceman, but I'm a-tellin' you, it could save this old boy's life one time."
"How's that?"
"Well, the next time that big ugly mudsucker up there has it in for me, if you taught me your magical secret, I could say the special words and BA would be happy as a butterfly-" he smacked his hands together, "-just like that."
"Shuddup, fool, shuddup!" BA yelled from the front seat. Apparently the conversation between him and Hannibal was over, and he'd heard the last part of Murdock's pronouncement. "I ain't never happy as a butterfly! I'm happy as a big black dude with muscles. And sometimes, I'm unhappy as one. So if ya don't want ta see how bad that can get right before dinner, when I'm hungry and grumpy anyway, stop talking crazy."
Murdock looked mutinous during the whole speech, up until the bit about dinner. His face suddenly glowed.
"Are we gonna get some grub, soon, Colonel? Me and Billly's starving for a couple o' overstuffed tacos and some sprite. Or maybe some fries with pickle relish to dip 'em in."
"Your dog might have to wait until we get out, Murdock," Hannibal said, and everyone could hear the grin in his voice, "I don't think BA would appreciate Billy eating in his van. Sloppy eater, you know."
Face let out a sigh of relief at the break in tension, but to be honest he didn't really feel like eating. Too much to think about. So when Murdock distributed the drive-through bag of burgers fifteen minutes later, Face took his, but it sat forgotten in his lap.
It was dark when they pulled into the Tanglewood parkinglot, and Face all but threw himself out of the van. The still-wrapped sandwich slid off his lap, and would have landed on the ground if he hadn't caught it.
"Oh, uh, Face? If you're not gonna eat that, Billy might want it. He's had a time of it, riding in the van with all of us eating in front of him and that smell of burgers filling the whole place. Do you…?"
"Oh...no, no, Murdock, go ahead," Face said, distractedly, handing over the coveted sandwich. Hannibal came to stand beside him.
"Let's go inside. BA can stay with his van, and I don't think Billy's allowed in."
Face nodded, and started up the steps to the front door, Hannibal close behind him. This was the kid's thing. But Hannibal was going to be there for him for whenever he was needed.
"Good evening," the girl at the desk said, without looking up from her paperwork, "Are you here to visit someone?"
"Yes, actually, we are," Face answered. She was pretty. Had red hair. "Templeton Peck, here to see Father Timothy?"
The girl looked up for the first time to find the two gentlemen looking at her expectantly. She gave them a regretful look.
"I'm so glad you came to be with him. He's not well tonight." She smiled sadly at them. "Down the second hall to the right, fourth door."
"Right; thanks."
On the short walk to the room, they didn't speak. Face walked fast, but once they stood in front of the door, he stopped and hesitated. What if Father Timothy didn't even remember him? The Father was old now, and the orphanage days had been a long, long time ago.
"Face, I can wait outside," Hannibal said, quietly. Face glanced at him and nodded.
"Don't leave," he said, and went into the room. Hannibal hung back in the open doorway, watching but keeping his distance.
Father Timothy didn't look so good.
He looked small and wilted under the sheets. He was wrinkled and frail; his once raven-black hair was wispy and white. One thin hand rested on the sheets, while the other weakly grasped the battered Bible. And he was asleep.
Face sat down next to the bed, and just watched him for a minute. His eyes traveled down to the open Bible. Father Timothy had had that thing since he had come visiting at the orphanage. Face leaned forward curiously to see what the old man had been reading.
James 1:27 Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.
"You sure got that one," he said, quietly. The old man stirred, and opened his eyes. His gaze traveled around the ceiling for a moment, until they fell on the young man by his bedside.
"Hello," Face said, uncertainly, "How are you feeling?"
"Al? Is that you?" His voice was so soft, it was almost a whisper. He sounded and looked as if a puff of air might blow him away. Face nodded, too relieved to speak. "I didn't think I'd hear...of you again, after you...enlisted."
"Oh, you know me. I can talk my way out of anything. You shouldn't have worried; I was okay. Now, I'm the one who's worried, here. How is it?" Face asked, anxiously. The old priest chuckled a little breathlessly.
"Old age? Not the pleasantest thing I've experienced on this earth. But it's alright."
"You're on pain meds, Father Timothy. Are you...comfortable?"
"Comfortable enough. The nurses told me that tonight might be the last one for this old pilgrim. And you coming to see me off... it was a gift from God, Al." The old man's eyes welled with tears. "Yes, Alvin. I'm comfortable enough."
"No, but you...Father Timothy, you...they told you that tonight you were going to...to…"
"Die?" The priest smiled. "It's alright. Just the next stage of the journey! If you ask me, I think life is about to get much more exciting. I lived, I did some good, I had a family. I'm just so sorry, Alvin, that you didn't have one. A family. God knows you needed one. Sure, I visited you every holiday, but the rest of the time? You were on your own." He gave a shaky sigh, but then smiled through the tears threatening to spill. "But you soldiered on, didn't you? Like that brave boy you always were."
Face had to clear his throat.
"Alright, Father Timothy, now you listen to me. When I was a kid, there wasn't anything I looked forward to more than Easter and Christmas. You made them the best thing in the year for me. I kept time by counting the days until your next visit. Your visits, and the excitement of looking forward to your visits, and the happy thought of the past visits, were what kept me going all during the year, so don't you dare say you're sorry for that." Face paused to catch his breath, and the old man grasped for his hand, joy and pride emanating from his face. But Face wasn't finished. "Now, it's true I wasn't adopted. I didn't have a mom and dad in a house with a two-car garage and a dog. But I met these guys in 'Nam...a Captain, a Sergeant, and a Colonel. We stuck together, we watched each others' backs, and we looked out for one another." Face paused and looked directly at Hannibal. "And we still do." He looked back at his childhood friend, who was fading fast. "You don't have to worry about me, Father Timothy."
A single tear of gratitude streaked down the weathered old face, which was dissolved into a smile of release. He squeezed Face's hand feebly.
"So you...have a family. Thank...God. You have...a family."
His grip loosened, and his eyes drifted closed, leaving Face sitting stunned by the bed.
And Hannibal, true to his word, didn't leave.
"There's never a life lost that isn't felt by someone, and as we stand here today by the resting place of a man of great compassion, we miss him. But we do not bid goodbye forever, for we know he has only gone before us to a better place. So instead, we bid you, Father Timothy, farewell for a time, until we meet again."
Face stood still, shoulders squared and posture stiff, listening dutifully to the preacher's sermon. The fresh grave at his feet was small, and modest. The old priest would have liked it. He'd requested that a hymn be sung at his funeral, and so Face found himself singing with the little group of family and friends in attendance, words he hadn't known he remembered.
A deeper voice by his side startled him, and he turned to see Hannibal beside him, singing the words to "It is Well with my Soul" with somber but firm respect. BA didn't know the verses, but the tune was picked up on easily enough, and he added a rich bass to the chorus. Even Murdock was singing, hat pressed to his chest and eyes closed.
Face faltered, and stopped in the middle of the second verse. He breathed deeply a few times, clenching his jaw and staring hard straight ahead to keep his composure. Hannibal never missed a beat in the song, didn't look over. But his arm slid around the kid's shoulders and he squeezed. Murdock stepped closer from the other side and slung his arm around his buddy. BA was behind them all, and stood with one hand on Hannibal's shoulder and the other on the back of Face's neck.
So they stood together.
And if Face's shoulders shook a little, or a tear escaped one eye, no one saw. And those who felt it, held tighter and sang on.
The funeral was over. People were drifting away in twos and threes. BA went to start the van running and get it warmed up. The air was frosty, especially as the afternoon shadows lengthened. Murdock had gone into the chapel with the reverend to use the phone and call Amy to let her know what was going on and that they'd be a little late getting to Miami.
It was just Colonel and his Lt. now. Face had long since pulled it together; he just looked quiet, now. Hannibal felt it would be kindest to give the kid some space, so he made some excuse and turned to go. Face gave a start, as if just coming out of his thoughts.
"Actually, if you don't mind, I...wanted to talk to you for a minute," he said, quickly.
Hannibal stopped.
"Of course."
Face took a deep breath, and scuffed once at the cold, stiff grass with the toe of his boot. It took him a few seconds to deliberate what he was going to say, but when he started, he started in a rush.
"Look, Colonel, I know I was a real jerk back there in the van; I know I complain a lot but I've never acted like that, I don't know what got into me. I messed up the whole unspoken order of the team and I basically..." Face broke off and sighed. "Well, I said things to you that weren't true."
Hannibal raised his eyebrows, but allowed Face to continue.
"I guess I always thought that because I didn't have a family I would need to tough it out on my own and not let anything or anybody get to me. That's stupid, of course, because ever since I've been in with you guys I felt like I belonged." He gave a tiny smile before becoming serious again and plunging ahead. "Look, anyway, Hannibal, I realize my behavior was sort of inexcusable and I wanted to just apologize. I'm sorry for the outburst and I'm willing to do all the laps and push-ups you wanna give me."
Face stood straight and stiff in a military posture and looked Hannibal right in the eye.
Hannibal studied him a moment.
"I have a better idea. In a few minutes we are all going to pull out of here and head over to the Spanish Pateo for dinner; Murdock's making the reservations now. I don't want any laps or push-ups, Face, but I'll tell you one thing." He stepped closer and put one hand on Face's shoulder, and his tone became emphasized. He wanted his lieutenant to remember this. "There is one lesson I want you to learn. You can count on us, and you can trust us. When you need something, you can tell us. And please keep in mind that there are other ways to get my attention than insubordination, Lieutenant."
He cracked a grin on the last line, and Face gave a sheepish smile in return.
"Reservations for five o' clock, guys," Murdock called, jogging out of the church and over to the van. "They got music tonight!"
Face felt a little touch of anticipation for an evening at his favorite restaurant. The guys had gone out of their way to make his night a pleasant one. He and Hannibal started walking back through the cemetery toward the van.
"You hungry, Face?"
"Yeah, you know, I think I could eat something," he replied, amiably. "And Hannibal, you know something? It's really okay if you call me kid."
"You don't mind the 'possessive, fatherly' implications of it?" Hannibal asked, teasingly. Face shook his head.
"Not a bit." His answer was firm.
Hannibal smiled, and pulled a cigar out of his suit-jacket pocket, clamping it between his teeth.
"Great. I don't mind it, myself."
When they climbed into the van and pulled away into the evening traffic, Murdock was warbling some Spanish ballad (to "get into the mood to match the food", apparently) and BA was urging the "sucka" to "shuddup" with all sorts of creative threats.
"Home sweet home!" Face announced, contentedly.
Hannibal gave a little chuckle from the front seat.
"No kidding. Hey, kid...you got a light?"
As Face dug in his pocket for his lighter, Murdock started a spontaneous chorus of "You Are my Sunshine", to which Hannibal and Face joined right in. BA didn't sing, but he didn't grouse either.
Face sighed happily. This was where be belonged. And this was his family.
Finis
Author's Note: So, couple of comments I wanted to make...I realize Hannibal probably wouldn't have said "darn" as opposed to the stronger expletive. But I made a promise on my profile page that I'll never have any language in my stories, so that's the reasoning there. Also, in some of the episodes we hear that Templeton Peck's first name, before he started changing it, was Alvin Brenner. It isn't until season five that we find out his real real name is Richard Bancroft; he didn't even know that himself. So I thought that if Father Timothy knew Face in the orphanage, he probably would have known him by the name Alvin. Correct me if I'm wrong; I'm still new to the show! :D And please leave a review! What did you think? What were your emotional responses? Did you have a favorite part? Was the end satisfying?