AN: This was one of my first stories, so I apologize if it's not the best.

Disclaimer: I don't own the A-Team, unless inside my head counts.

Warning: This whole story contains a bit of torture, so those who are sensitive to that might not want to read it. Or, you could just skip the italicized segments, although you might not get the story completely.

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He tugged against the restraints, trying to escape the metal chair that he was tied to. He desperately screamed in agony.

The blindfold was so tight that his eyes felt like they were being pushed into his head. The metal bonds so cold and hard that they cut into his skin.

His captors struck him again, laughing at his hopelessness and despair. They knew that he would crack soon. They knew that he would spill his guts and reveal everything.

He just wished he were dead so that he could be free from this torture. He knew that, soon, his wish would be granted.

The last thing he felt was a rod hitting his head, and the warm, stickiness of blood flowing down his face.

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"Colonel, he's awake!"

I opened my eyes and pain enveloped my body. Everything hurt, and I knew that this was just the beginning.

Who am I?

The thought struck my mind from nowhere. As hard as I tried, I couldn't find the answer.

A man sat next to me, a blue ball cap on his head, a brown leather jacket on his back. His face made me relax, but I had no idea who he was.

A muscular, african-american man with a Mohawk ran into the room with an older man with gray hair.

The gray-haired guy sat next to me, smiling like the Cheshire cat. "Hey, Face, how are you feeling?"

Face? Is that who you are?

I didn't awnser, my confused thoughts running a million miles an hour. This gray-haired guy and Mr. Mohawk made me feel safe and protected, but who were they?

The gray-haired guy frowned. "Face? You ok?"

My eyes locked gazes with the grayed man. "I... I don't know who I am."

The room froze. No one said a word.

I trembled. "Who... who are you? Why am I... why am I in so much pain?"

Baseball hat forced a grin. "I'm Murdock."

"I'm B.A.," said Mr. Muscles with a rough, gravely voice.

Gray-haired guy smiled. "I'm Hannibal. You're in pain because you were..." he paused uncertainly. He sighed. "Maybe I should explain more about us before I describe what happened to you.

"We are the A-Team, an elite group of Vietnam Vets who were falsely accused of murder and are on the run. We help out innocent people who are being targeted by bad guys.

"We were on a mission in Korea when you got captured and tortured. They wanted information about us so that they could capture us, but, to your credit, you didn't say anything. We finally found your whereabouts and rescued you.

"Your name is Templeton Peck, but you are more commonly called by your nickname, 'Face'. You scam airplanes, helicopters, and hotel rooms for us. You also lift identities so that we can access information." Hannibal finished his speech.

I nodded slowly. "Wh... what are my injuries?"

Murdock sat up straiter. "You have several broken ribs, a nasty gash on your lip that required stitches, your chest and arms have been cut and burned, requiring stitches. You have multiple bruises and cuts, the worst of them all was gashes around your wrists, a gunshot wound, and, apparently, amnesia."

I looked at myself. Bandages wrapped around my wrists and arms, all the way up to the shoulder. I lifted the blanket off my chest to reveal bandages around my torso.

"Wh... where was I shot?" I asked.

Hannibal guided my hand to my shoulder. "Right there."

"Did you guys do this?" I asked, fingering the bandage around my arm. "I mean, doctor me?"

Hannibal laughed. "No, we had Maggie Sullivan from Black Rock come up here and fix you up."

"Wh... where is she now?" I asked.

Hannibal smiled. "She went to the grocery store for some food and supplies. She should be back pretty soon."

"Hey, man, here she comes now," said B.A.

Hannibal grinned ear to ear and ran out of the room. Pretty soon, you heard a door slam shut.

"Does he... like her?" I asked Murdock.

Murdock nodded his head and smiled. "Yeah."

A couple of minutes later, a woman entered the room with Hannibal in tow. She smiled at me and I gave her a little smile back.

"So, how are we doing?" she asked as Murdock let her sit in his chair next to me.

"We? I don't see you laying on a bed all wrapped up like a birthday present," I said, feeling a strange confidence around her.

She nodded her head and looked me straight in the eye. "Alright, then, how are you feeling?"

I paused. "In pain. Confused. Nervous."

"Okay, then, let's have a look at you." She pulled on a pair of latex gloves and unwrapped the bandage around my shoulder, revealing the ugly bullet wound.

I winced as she touched it. "Yeah, keep this clean and it should heal up fine." She wrapped it back up with some clean gauze and turned my head towards her. She touched my lip and opened my mouth, then closed it. "Your lip should be ok, just be careful when you eat."

She proceeded to poke, prod, unwrap, and re-wrap my wounds. I felt exhausted and just wanted to fall asleep.

"Alright," she said finally as she pulled out a pill bottle. "Take one of these and swallow. Murdock, get me a glass of water." She tossed a pill into her hand from the bottle and dropped it into my mouth.

Before Murdock even came back with the water I was asleep.

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Alright, I won't hold the next chapter hostage. The chapter after that, though, no guarantees. It all depends on whether I'm happy with all the views/reviews I'm getting.