Kidding Ourselves
This story was inspired totally by the song Kidding Ourselves by Stabilo.
I do not own The A Team, or the song. They belong to their respective owners.
Summary: Sometimes, its what you don't say...Hannibal and Face over a cup of coffee.
Warnings: None, but it may be a bit sappy. Slight language.
Told from Hannibal's POV:
I let myself into the backyard, and walked towards the table that sat on the large, open porch. It was a beautiful April day: the sky was blue and the grass was at its greenest, and nature was definitely alive.
The house that Face had managed to scam us this week was situated on the edge of a river, with plenty of trees, birds and room to run for Murdock.
It was just after dawn, and I had already checked the rooms inside; Murdock and BA were still asleep, tired after we ended our last case yesterday. The only one who was awake yet was Face – and that was why I had stepped outside, coffee mug in hand.
He was sitting at the outdoor table, watching the sun rise higher and higher over the tree tops. His back was to the door and he didn't move, didn't give any indication that he'd heard me, but I knew better. I sat down on the other side of the table, facing the sun, the same as him.
"Morning," I said.
"Morning," he responded, just as pleasantly.
Neither of us minded that the conversation didn't carry any farther than that. It seemed the beauty of the morning was just too good to break with insolent chatter. However, I did watch my lieutenant out of the corner of my eye as he drank from his mug of coffee.
And I, I wanted to tear down the curtains,
To let, let in some nautral light.
I wake up and open one eye,
And wait for the window to crack at me, alone.
I'd known all my men for years now, known them enough to know when they were sick, hungry, tired, sad, or jubilant. Tossing you through war with the other will do that. You learn to trudge through thick and thin with them, learn to trust the other person completely. Something called friendship.
But with Face it was always difficult. He kept up an almost constant mask of his true feelings, enough that when he was scared, he seemed calm, or when he was upset, he seemed nonchalant. I'd learned to decipher the different masks, the different acts he kept putting on, sometimes for my benefit. He was a conman after all. It was his living, and it kept us living.
That was one of the reasons we called him Faceman, for his many different appearances and personalities. But there were times, like now, when I wished he wasn't so good at his trade, or that he could break down his own walls that kept us out, and let us in. I wished that we could talk, that he could deposit some of the weight he hauled around. In a way, I wanted to tear down all the curtains, they many layers of fake Face that surrounded him, to once, just once, glimpse the real man.
But I knew that prying would not work. I knew him well enough to know that, if he didn't want to talk or make the first effort, those walls would go up, the mask would slip down, and he would fall inside himself faster than you could snap your fingers.
And I, I wanted to curl up beside you,
And die, at least for an hour or more.
Depending on how you react,
Depending on how you respond to me,
I'll stick around.
I wanted to get inside that complex mind of his, and see exactly what he sees at times. Feel what he feels. I wanted to know just what makes him tick. At times, I wanted to say, "Look Face. I want to help you, why don't you tell me what's going on?" Sometimes I would stop myself from thinking those thoughts right off the bat, knowing how he'd react, that that would never work. Sometimes I contemplated them, but I never shared them. I didn't think Face understood strongly enough that we were all here for him. We were all ready to help him out, or help him get by. And we would never leave him.
I regarded the whole team as almost my sons. And as like a father, I wanted to comfort them, protect them, and care for them. I'd do whatever I could for them.
The only problem: how to instil that in a guy who never wanted to ask for help or express his true fears?
We're kidding ourselves, kidding ourselves,
So what do you want from me?
'Cause as long as there's a payphone and a taxi cab I'm alright 'cause I can leave home.
We're kidding ourselves, kidding ourselves,
So what are you waiting for?
'Cause even with a fast car and a cell phone I won't leave, 'cause I'd be alone.
I was not totally incompetent a human, that I could not detect certain hints and clues here and there. I knew that Face was afraid of being alone. It stemmed from a childhood of growing up in an orphanage, and being in the war had not helped. In fact, he even mentioned it once in the POW camps, but we were all half crazy then, and I don't think he remembers saying it. But I do.
Being on the run and hunted by the military police did not help matters of being left behind. Death was something we didn't worry about, because back in the war, it was always a probability, not a possibility. We worried about losing one of our own, or them losing us.
There were pros and cons, of course. Being wanted by most of the country, of course, forced us to stay together, for protection and secrecy, but long before then we were a tight-knit group, and never discussed splitting up. Staying together, like a family, had forged a bond so great; I always had trouble defining it, even to myself. We watched each other's backs, we covered for each other, and when some one was in trouble, we bailed them out, no questions asked.
For Face, having the Corvette was good. Like BA's van. Though we used the van for missions, Face liked to use his car as a getaway every now and then. I knew he needed the time to himself; think through things or to process things. I didn't mind, because I knew he'd always be back.
You could count on Face. In my experience, and because I knew him, I could count on Face to come back. He always came back. The team was like a piece of him, it was like a piece of us, and you couldn't live without that piece. You couldn't live alone.
So tonight, let's be as bold as we want to,
And drink, drink 'til we fall down the steps.
Remember how that made us laugh,
Remember how all that we did was laugh, and cry.
My deepest wish, amongst many, was for the team to have one night, one night, where we could have no cares in the world. Where we could drink, tell stories, laugh the night away, be friends again, not merely business partners and partners in crime. I wanted one of the nights stolen from us by the military. A time before all this stupid nonsense about murders, before that stupid mission at the bank…a time before that, where we should have been settled down, where the war is over and we have normal jobs, salaries, families and not a care in the world. Not worried that tomorrow could be our last day, that tomorrow Decker could walk through that door and arrest us all.
So don't take your eyes off me, don't look away,
I won't be alone.
At home.
What seemed like a few minutes turned out to be half an hour. I'd been thinking so deeply, lost in my own thoughts. Suddenly, from the way Face tipped back his mug, I realized that he was drinking the last dregs. This was it. It was now or never to let him know all that I had been thinking these last ten odd years. Now was the time, while we were still alone and the atmosphere was calm and Face could not make an excuse to get away. Any moment now, Face was going to get up and leave, and the moment would be gone.
Dozens of speeches came to mind, all circling through my brain. Sure, I could come up with a brilliant harebrained scheme, but damned this sentimental stuff! How the hell do I start this before it was too late?
"Face," I began, and he looked suddenly at me, his eyes knowing as they read my expression. He could sense a lecture; sense it in my hesitation and the way I grappled for words. I decided on the best route to go – the most blunt one, the one he needed to hear most.
However, the words that actually came out of my mouth surprised even me: "More coffee?" Coward, I cursed. You just blew it.
A grin lit my lieutenant's face as I stood up and clumsily collected his mug from his hands. His eyes sparkled with humour, and his smile told me he knew exactly what had just happened.
"Thanks, Hannibal," he said meaningfully. "Really."
It seemed, just when I thought I knew everything, that there were a few things that I still needed to learn. It seemed that the kid could read my face just as well as I couldn't read his.
Or maybe he already knew what I was going to tell him.