Disclaimer: I don't own the A-Team, etc. etc.
A/N: I'm back! Lol, just for a quick oneshot at the moment though. I hadn't written anything for a while, so I was looking up writing prompts to get me back in the game, and found this one:
"Terror. Disgust.
I don't know.
It's kind of a toss up when you wake up covered in blood."
Originally, I was just going to write a short, random piece, but when I started writing I ended up in Face's head, so this became an A-Team oneshot. This first chapter is first person from Face's POV. Then I decided to write a second chapter showing everything from Hannibal's POV, but it's not first person.
Enjoy!
Terror. Disgust.
I don't know.
It's kind of a toss up when you wake up covered in blood.
Except it wasn't my blood.
The first time it happened I was a seventeen year old in the middle of a war. Helicopter had crashed, and by some miracle I survived with nothing more than some nasty cuts and bruises. Crew wasn't so lucky. Neither was the rest of my team. Roberts was alive, but he drowned in his own blood not long after I woke up. Carrows was in better shape, but he had one leg that looked worse than raw hamburger meat and a hole in his stomach where he'd pulled out a piece of debris from the chopper. We never could get the bleeding to stop. It was about two klicks away from the crash site before Charlie caught up and we had to hide. Carrows couldn't keep quiet. The morphine was gone. He was bleeding out. I snapped his neck. A week later, after I'd found another team and gotten back to camp, I mailed the letter Carrows had given me to his parents. I never told anyone what had happened in the jungle. As far as the Army is concerned, I was the only one who survived the crash.
This time wasn't so different from the first. It wasn't a helicopter crash; it was an IED. It wasn't my fellow soldiers' blood I was covered in; it was innocent villagers'. Women and children we were trying to protect, and I was brushing their guts off of me as I tried to assess my own injuries. Again, they were minimal. I was beginning to think someone upstairs got some kind of twisted pleasure out of seeing me in these situations. Thankfully, BA was okay too. Then again, I don't think a tank could take him out. We shared a look, and I knew he understood.
The relief on Hannibal and Murdock's faces when they saw us was instantaneous. Frankie's expression was absolute horror. That horror only magnified when I shot the militia leader they'd captured point blank. It had been years since I'd killed anyone, especially like that. I felt nothing.
When we got back to the compound, BA and I were still mostly covered in blood. We hadn't had a chance to shower, and there's only so much you can wipe off. Of course, Stockwell wanted to debrief us right away. I told him to go fuck himself, and went to go take a shower. I heard BA following.
