Author's Notes: So I lied! Truthfully, after such an enthusiastic reception I decided to percolate a little further into this particular story and now it's morphing uncontrollably! Oh well………..
Disclaimer: I do not own the A-Team characters and am making no profit from this story, which is a work of fan fiction only.
Warning: Faceman does what he does best in this chapter and there is ome strong language!
THE COLONEL'S BOY
Part 2
"O! I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial."
Othello 2.2
William Shakespeare
"You're nuts!"
"Don't you want to change the colour of your lieutenant's bar, kid?"
"Sure, but what about Brenner, I thought….." Peck hesitated, his handsome features pulled out of shape as he consciously stopped his mouth from talking.
Hannibal smiled brightly, pushing his advantage with relish. "What did you think?"
Peck licked his lips, nervous and unwilling to reveal his thoughts, he finally muttered, "That you'd give the promotion to him, make him first lieutenant, XO."
"We're not here to discuss Ray; we're here to discuss you."
"But…"
"Yes?" The intensity of the twinkle in the Colonel's eye seemed to strengthen with every word.
Peck had the sudden feeling that every single muscle in his body must move immediately. Taking a deep breath he forced them all to remain motionlessly erect at attention. He felt uncomfortably vulnerable before those icy blue eyes that seemed to skewer him, but knew he must keep his control now and yet inexplicably he heard his voice answering the Colonel. "They'll never follow me, they hate me. I couldn't…"
Dammit! He forced himself again to stop talking, to stop revealing, and left his words hanging pathetically on the air.
Smith picked up his discomfort instantly. "You're having a real problem finishing your sentences, kid!" he chortled.
Peck felt an intense desire to swipe that annoyingly, patronising smirk from the Colonel's face. He choked back the want, instead concentrating on forcing his lungs to fill with air, and willing himself to feel the calmness the oxygen brought as it spread out through his body.
Smith's eyes beamed in appreciation but he said nothing and the silence cut the air between the two men. Again Peck's body screamed for movement but again he smothered the need as the Colonel eyed him, waiting, simply waiting.
Finally Peck could stand it no longer. "Permission to speak, Colonel," he growled.
Smith nodded, his grin even more assured than before. "Go ahead, Lieutenant."
"Colonel, I don't understand. I … If this is all some cruel joke, then just tell me now."
"A joke, Lieutenant?" Smith's eyebrows arched. "Do you hear anybody laughing?"
"No Sir!"
"Then why do you think this is a joke?"
"Because… because I don't understand what you see in me." Peck hesitated as the Colonel's brows went even higher but when it became evident that Smith would say no more, he continued. "I think maybe you're amusing yourself, passing the time with me like a cat playing with a mouse."
Smith snorted and sat back in his chair. "You don't know me very well, kid, but believe me that's not my style. I never 'play' with my men – a good game of cat and mouse with my enemy makes the blood rush around the body a little faster sure, maybe I tease the big brass a little too, but never with the men under my command."
"Then why am I here?"
"You tell me, Lieutenant."
Peck grunted in frustration but kept his voice steady as he responded. "You invited me to join your Team, Sir."
Smith nodded and very deliberately took a cigar from his top pocket, bit of the end and lit it, his eyes never leaving the soldier before him. Finally he said, "I have been in this army for a long time, Lieutenant, been in this war for too damn long. The whole thing has dragged on, and I've watched as the number of well-educated and experienced career soldiers on the front lines has dropped sharply as casualties and combat rotation take their toll. There are no more bright young men signing up cos they know what's waiting for them here and so the talent pool for new officers is shallow, too shallow. The new officers I see here are just kids, barely in their 20s, often raw and without experience, young, unemployed college dropouts, they get rushed through officer training and we then expect them to lead our army into battle, to inspire our troops." Smith shook his head sadly. "I'm what they call 'a lifer' and I know it doesn't work that way. Have you heard of My Lai, Lieutenant?"
"No, Sir."
"You will soon and so will the rest of the world. You send kids to do a man's work and you end up with situations like My Lai."
Peck gulped. "What happened?" he asked.
The Colonel let out a long sigh. "It's not a pretty story and once it gets outs to the world, it's gonna make our job here so much more difficult. My Lai was a village in the South Vietnamese district of Son My, a heavily mined area where the VC was deeply entrenched. In March last year the men of Charlie Company, 11th Brigade, entered the village. Numerous members of Charlie Company had been maimed or killed in the surrounding area and those guys were mighty pissed. They were on a search and destroy mission but my source tells me it soon degenerated into the massacre of over 300 apparently unarmed civilians including women, children, and the elderly. The soldier who told me, an old friend from Korea, spoke of several old men being bayoneted, praying women and children shot in the back of the head, and at least one girl was raped and then killed."
"No," Peck let out his breath in a slow haunted whisper. "How could that happen?" But in the back of his head a quote he had heard somewhere he couldn't remember flickered annoyingly. 'To kill my monster, I must become him.'
The Colonel ran his hands across his eyes as if just the telling had brought the weight of guilt from the story down on him. "It's not easy leading men to war, Lieutenant. It takes more than just the ability to graduate from Officer's Candidate School. There has to be something more - the ability to make your men reach for glory in the most hellish of circumstances is an elusive quality lacking in so many of the young Officers I see rotating through here every day. So they fail and we fail them."
"Begging your pardon, Sir, but what does this have to do with me?" Peck asked softly, forcing away the thoughts in his head, concentrating only on himself.
Smith smiled but his eyes remained veiled by tiredness. "As I told you before I've been looking a goddamn long time for a new executive officer. I think maybe I've found him."
"Me?" Peck's voice was incredulous. "You said yourself that I was never twenty four – I'm barely in my 20s, I'm raw and got little experience, I was a college dropout and I got rushed through officer training… seems to me I fit the profile of your incapable officer class very well. And not only that I have the added transgression of screwing my CO or rather letting him screw me. Surely there's no one whose fitness for leadership in the field of battle is more questionable than me. Just ask your men, I pissed them off enough for them to see that someone with my emotional and intellectual deficiencies should never be issuing orders especially to a Team like them."
Smith's smile brightened. "What do you think about the war, Lieutenant?"
"What?" Peck didn't like to be wrong-footed but he was finding it increasingly difficult to keep up with the changes in direction of the conversation and the accompanying thoughts it was bringing him were making him most uncomfortable.
"This war – you think we're gonna win?"
Peck licked his lips, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the elusive man in front of him, trying to ascertain exactly what the Colonel was after. Smith just smiled enigmatically. "You want the official version or…." He began but the Colonel cut him off.
"I want to know what you've learnt in your time here, Lieutenant. I want you to show me that you can see things tactically; the bigger picture; that you have some of that elusive quality I talked about earlier – the vision to lead good, no exceptional, men."
Peck shook his head. "God," he muttered. "Why couldn't I have met you ten weeks ago? Before Potter …. before I let him…?" He drew in a deep trembling breath and blinked away the moisture that threatened to swamp his eyes.
Smith nodded in recognition. "All things happen for a purpose, Lieutenant. So tell me what you see."
Peck gulped. He searched the Colonel's face again, desperate for some hint of the answers he was expecting but the wily soldier's features remained completely unreadable. How to reply? What to divulge? Smith was waiting but still the younger man hesitated, fearful that he was about to blow his chance but knowing he had to say something – did he play it safe, tow the party line or did he take the risk? From what the Colonel had already said, he suspected that the old soldier saw that everything was not as good as the powers that be would like them to maintain, still was that all a trap to lull him into a false sense of security, so he would reveal his true feelings? And when he did, would he been thrown into the brig for disloyalty, treason even? He finally decided honesty was the best policy. He ventured, "I think … I think that the top brass have forgotten the basic lessons of war-fighting that you have to understand your enemy."
Smith cocked his head slightly. "Go on," he prompted, revealing nothing of his own thoughts.
Peck licked his lips. Should he go for it or should he play it cool? Dammit; this man had obviously seen something in him that made him stand out from the rest, something that had brought him to this moment. Peck saw that there was no point in playing safe; he had to play it to the hilt, give it his all, for once reveal the true self behind the mask. He cleared his throat, his heart beating rapidly and the sweat springing to his brow. "The VC follow the strategic and tactical doctrine of Sun Tzu, written two and a half thousand years ago but just as effective today: enemy attacks, Charlie retreats; enemy digs in, he harasses; enemy exhausted, he attacks; enemy retreats, he pursues. But us we ignore it. For this whole goddamn war we have fought the same battles on the same terrain using the same obsolete tactics and Charlie has used his same strategy. We are looking for a great battle and a great victory that'll placate the people at home but it is never going to happen. Charlie isn't going to make that mistake."
"You sound like a text book, kid," Smith snorted. "But go on."
Warming to his topic as his apprehension dwindled, Peck took a deep breath and continued. "Instead what I see is we are screwing it up big time; front line unit leaders are shifted every few months – there are very few Teams as stable as yours Sir, and most division and corps commanders are totally out of touch with what is actually going on in country. The mistakes that we made in 1965 we are repeating again and again. But the grunts know, the men, the ones who are there where the fighting is thickest, the valiant men with the rifle squads, platoons and companies well understand Charlie's game. How he darts in, makes us bleed and then runs away. How he's making the War a bloody, protracted affair that frustrates our leaders and wears down the American people. There is nothing worse than suffering in an Asian shit hole when the country we are fighting for doesn't even want us to be here. Fighting at home as well as fighting here."
Peck stopped then, desperately trying to read the emotionless facade that the Colonel's face had become. Had he gone too far? His heart froze when the man finally spoke. "And how have you come by such an unpatriotic impression of the war, Lieutenant?"
Shit! He had blown it big time! But rather than admit defeat, Peck decided to carry on with his thoughts, as he suddenly realised they had been festering angrily inside him for a long time and it felt so good to air his views. He had blown it now anyway so why worry about the consequences?
"I don't think it's unpatriotic – I'm still here aren't I?" he said. "It's the way I see it – all the time I've been here, virtually no senior commanders have spent any time with the GIs to learn the true nature of the war. Instead they live in royal comfort, complete with white-coated servants and sparkling China-set tables, safely away from the killing fields – I've seen it. When a battle does rage, they whirl above it in helicopters making decisions that may have worked in another war, but don't make sense now, not to the men on the ground!" He shook his head. "Is there any wonder that our field officers lack the knowledge or the stature to inspire the men – just look at the example we are set!"
"So you're better off out of it, Lieutenant, safely away from the killing fields servicing Colonel Potter?" Smith's voice was as emotionless as his face.
Peck glanced away, noticed it had gone dark outside and that the office in which he stood was suddenly gloomy but that only accentuated the gleam in the Colonel's eyes.
"No Sir. That's not what I wanted. I asked twice to go back to combat duties. Colonel Potter wouldn't let me. You see I am different from those college dropouts you mentioned earlier in one way; I wasn't drafted, I enlisted. I had no idea what it was like before I got here, I admit it but now that I'm here, I aim to do the best I can. I don't regret being here. It's not about the war, it's about the men here – it's a simple fact of survival."
"And Potter?"
"Potter was a mistake," Peck admitted and then he allowed his smile to lighten the sober atmosphere of the room for the first time since this audience had begun. "But all things happen for a purpose, Sir!" he grinned impishly.
The power of the smile brightened the room and caused the Colonel to sit forward. His voice was strangely unbalanced as he said. "Do you still want to be part of my Team, Lieutenant?"
"More than anything in the world, Sir but….."
"But?"
"I wasn't joking about screwing with your men. I don't see how…"
The Colonel stood up. "Not my problem, Lieutenant. I've seen enough just now to give you the chance you want. Let's just say how you deal with the Team will be the next step in developing your leadership skills." His eyes were beaming again. "I have every confidence that you will talk them round to your way of thinking. Dismissed!"
Peck hesitated. "But I…."
Smith sat down, his eyes moved to the paperwork on his desk. He did not look up. "I said dismissed, Lieutenant!"
Peck turned to leave. As he reached the door Smith's voice came again. "Oh and get your hair cut now, what goes for Colonel Potter is not acceptable in my Team – you're a real soldier now, so you better look like one!"
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Self consciously Peck ran his hand through his hair as he exited the Colonel's office. With his other he searched in his fatigues pocket for his cigarettes. He had just managed to find them and lit one when a voice echoed across the square towards him.
"Sucker! Hey sucker!"
Peck took a long draw on his cigarette as the massive man mountain loomed out of the gloom striding towards him. Peck gulped and cast a vain glance to either side to see if there was anywhere he could run but Baracus was closing the distance between them with a speed that belied his bulk.
Colonel Smith believed he could talk his way out of this and the Colonel knew Baracus better than him but Peck wasn't so sure, especially when the growling assailant got close enough for the Lieutenant to see the violent twist of his dark features.
Trying hard to keep his voice even and warm, Peck lifted his hands in a placating motion, forcing himself to step forward, discarding his cigarette. "Baracus!" he began. "About your stuff, I can explain……."
The big brute hit him with a hand at his throat and another to his gut, and then just kept going, like a massive irresistible tidal wave picking up at piece of beach debris and sweeping it up the shoreline. Peck was forced backwards until the back of his head hit the solid wall of Smith's office with a deep thud. Pain from his neck, his belly and his head exploded through the rest of Peck's body. He blinked trying to see past the stars to the horrifyingly contorted face beyond.
"Where's my money, sucker?" Baracus demanded, banging Peck's head on the wall in time to his words.
Peck's hands went up to ineffectually try to remove Baracus' massive fists from his neck but it was useless. He tried to speak but his voice was as insignificant as his hands and all the time his lungs were screaming for air as a dark, throbbing blackness threatened at the edge of his consciousness.
"We had a deal!" Baracus continued to spit into Peck's rapidly paling face.
"I…." Peck still tried to articulate but even he couldn't hear his own voice – it was just a pathetic groan, as his head banged on the wall once more.
Peck struggled as well as he could but his vision was tinged with scarlet acquiescing to black and he knew that he did not have much time. Baracus' hands pressed tightly around his throat. He was vaguely aware of a strange gurgling that must have been coming from his own throat and his head was thundering.
Deep inside Peck desperately tried to fight but every part of his body seemed to scream in defeat as his heart itself lost strength. The thought that 'it should not end like this' occurred to him when suddenly the grip on Peck's neck loosened and unsupported he fell forward to his knees on the floor, gagging violently, he began to choke as his lungs commenced their action again. He knelt in the dust breathing deeply, retching violently and his body racked with cramping pains as the oxygen flowed around it once more.
Finally he felt strong enough to lift his head but he still had to wait long seconds until his watery eyes managed to focus on the scene in front of him. When they did he saw that Smith and Brenner plus a whole load of other men were holding the still fuming Baracus off of him.
Baracus was still shouting but the Colonel was talking to him softly and the big man's fury seemed to be dissipating. Peck rubbed his neck gingerly as Smith let go of Baracus and moved to stand above the Lieutenant.
"You got a week, Lieutenant," the Colonel said as he reached down to offer his hand. Tentatively Peck took it and was pulled to his feet. He stood, his body shivering with shock, as Smith continued. "I trust you'll be able to deliver?"
Drawing in a deep but weary breath Peck nodded. "Thank you Colonel," his voice was strained and raw.
Smith snorted unsympathetically. "Can't have my cigar supply in jeopardy or the walls of my office for that matter but believe me kid, BA is not a patient man. You better come through this time – he doesn't give second chances!"
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"So what can I give you for a pair, Cathy?" Peck smiled his most flirtatious best.
Nurse Cathy Ryan shook her head slowly. "I've heard some things about you, Lieutenant, but I can't believe that even you would do this!"
"Call me Tem, and it's not what you think, Cathy, honestly. I need them for a friend."
She rolled her eyes suggestively and let out one of the naughtiest giggles Peck had ever heard. "That's what they all say, sweet heart!" she laughed.
"You look to have the most incredibly soft hair," Peck said in full flirt mode, reaching out slowly. "May I?"
"Keep going sweet talker," Cathy licked her lips and moved a little closer to the gorgeous young man in front of her. Sure she knew his reputation with Colonel Potter but she also knew she was never likely to get such an opportunity again and she had seen enough pain and suffering in this godforsaken war to know she had to seize a little fun when it presented itself to her, especially when it came so beautifully wrapped! That didn't mean, however, that she was going to give in easily. She enjoyed the chase as much as the catch and so she giggled and tilted her head slightly as Peck stroked her hair, regarding the blond Lieutenant with a shrewd but growing excitement tingling within her.
"Jeez," he whispered. "I knew it would be so soft." He moved closer too so that they were almost touching. "So do we have a deal?" he asked.
She smiled again and then bobbed forward to kiss him on the lips. He moved his arms down her back to gently envelope her in his warm embrace as his mouth opened and he accepted and then deepened the kiss.
"Tem," she hissed as he gently lowered her backwards so she was lying over her desk. "Not here!"
He moved down and began to undo the buttons of her uniform shirt. "Here's fine," he whispered between sloppy kisses as he bent forwards to run his tongue along her neck and down, his hands reaching behind her to undo the catch of her bra with well practised ease. She let out a gasp as the cooler air hit her liberated breasts and then threw back her head, her hands thrust deep into his hair as he suckled her nipples.
His hands were everywhere, softly caressing, gently massaging and Cathy felt her grasp on reality slipping as he began to play her body with adept skill. She no longer cared where they were, she didn't even know, logical thought flew from her mind like a bird gliding on a soft summer breeze, as pure passion took over.
Peck had always been a talented and caring lover. He guessed it was something to do with the fact that his first sexual experiences had been rough and ready with him always been on the receiving end and he did not want to subject anyone, particularly someone he cared enough about to be intimate with, to such experiences. He was attentive and considerate and he was never so absorbed by his own completion that he roared off selfishly; he waited and took the girl with him, ensuring she found her pleasure before he sought his own. It had always seemed the natural way to behave and though he never wanted any commitment from his partner once the act was completed, well not since Leslie any way, at the moments of its enactment, he cared enough that his lover was his only consideration. He had never received any complaints – except maybe the obvious one that his fiancée had run away from him without a proper explanation. Still he figured that the sex was not the reason Leslie Bectall had left him. In truth he wasn't quite sure what the reason was and he had decided long ago that he would probably never know; even eighteen months later the pain was almost too much for him to bear and so he had left it behind him, exiting the memory like a butterfly leaving its chrysalis.
Cathy now was writhing and groaning beneath him as he gently thrust into the warm wetness of her achingly receptive body. They were kissing again, tongues entwined and dancing and then he felt her stiffen beneath him as her body began to spasm uncontrollably. Peck could feel his own orgasm begin to roll from somewhere deep inside, upwards and out. He clung to her and together they rode the powerful wave of their passion.
"Oh Tem," she whispered softly. "Thank you!" Then she began to giggle infectiously.
He pulled himself up onto his arms as the aftershocks still trembled through him. "What's so funny?" he asked, wondering if he should be offended or pleased.
She reached up and ran her hand down the side of his jaw, laughing wildly.
"What?" he asked again.
She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself but the giggle still glinted in her eyes. "It's just I can't believe I've been fucked by a man more beautiful than I am for a pair of pantyhose in the middle of the goddamn jungle!"
He rolled his eyes and smirked. "I guess it is quite bizarre," he conceded.
"Not quite what I had in mind when I joined up!" she agreed.
"Really?" He eased himself off her and helped her to sit up. "It was exactly what I had in mind! Me; I'm only here to make money and get laid!" he said with a mischievous smile.
She began to re-button her blouse after clipping her bra back in place. She giggled again. "They should put that on recruitment posters," she said. She reached across and gently stroked his cheek. "On second thoughts, maybe they should just put you on the posters, Tem!"
"Naw," Peck had the good grace to look humble. "I think I'd just put people off – give the wrong impression, I usually do!"
Cathy had finished dressing and moved across to look in the mirror on the far wall. She quickly re-arranged her hair back into a ponytail and dabbed disapprovingly at her face. "God I look like I just got laid!" she muttered.
Peck moved to stand behind her. "You look great, Cathy," he smiled. "And you did!"
"Too right I did! Now I guess I better pay up." She moved back to the desk pulled out the bottom left hand drawer and deposited a pair of cellophane wrapped pantyhose into Peck's hand.
Just as she did so the office door opened and Major Polly Parrot entered, her face set in the ugly scowl that was her normal expression. "What's going on here, Captain?" she demanded of Cathy.
Cathy felt herself blush. "Nothing, ma'am," she replied.
The Major's withering glance fell on Peck who was endeavouring to slink to the door while hiding the pantyhose up his sleeve. "What are you doing here, Lieutenant?"
Peck favoured her with his very best smile and was gratified to see an answering glint in the mighty Major's eye – maybe she wasn't such a dragon after all, or maybe the famed Peck charm even worked on fire-breathing reptiles too!
"I just came to check my medical file has been updated Ma'am," he said. Thankful that he had set up the scene earlier before he started to flirt outrageously with Cathy. She took his cue like a true professional and played her part by grasping the file from where it had been discarded on the desk, surreptitiously wiping away with her elbow some semen that had landed on it sometime during their zeal, and adopted a thoroughly professional tone as she thumbed through it.
"Yes, it's correct Lieutenant Peck, you are cleared for combat!"
Peck backed toward the door as he executed a perfect salute. "Thank you, Captain." He turned, "Major!"
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Cathy responded, her eyes twinkling. "Pleased to be of service."
"Goodbye, Lieutenant," Major Parrot said in a knowing tone. "And next time you come sniffing around my nurses please do it when you are off duty!"
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"This a joke?" Baracus growled.
"You got balls, Peck, I'll give you that," Ray Brennan muttered softly as behind him someone giggled tensely.
Baracus slowly pulled himself up from his bunk. "I ain't laughing," he grumbled climbing to his feet menacingly.
"It's no joke, Sergeant." Peck stepped back a little as the mountain advanced on him again. He felt a twinge in his neck where those big hands had tried to crush his windpipe earlier that day. He forced his mouth to keep talking, knowing that if he stopped, his brain would have to take on board the concept that he had done the wrong thing; walking boldly into the A Team's hootch, slamming down his kit bag and asking which one was his cot. Maybe that was slightly risky but to follow it up by presenting Baracus with a pair of pantyhose in front of everyone else just had to be a gross misjudgement. Better to keep talking and stop thinking – trust in his mouth, so he did. "We had a deal, Baracus. I took your money and I didn't supply the goods. I know I screwed up but I want you to know I'll make it right. Take that as just a gift in the meantime."
Baracus glared at him. "A gift!" he spat. "You as crazy as that fool pilot!" He stepped forward.
"Easy, BA," Brennan said mildly but he stood up and moved closer to be able to intervene if necessary as the atmosphere in the hootch tensed perceptively.
Every fibre in Peck's body was screaming for him to run but he fought against the fear, forced his feet to remain rooted to the spot. He knew how important it was for his future with this Team for him to stand his ground, even though Baracus incensed was one of the most frightening sights he had ever seen.
"You dissing me, Peck?" Baracus hissed, his anger simmering but not yet boiling over.
"No way, Sergeant," Peck replied. "You gave me a list of parts you needed for the jeep, right?" The big man nodded warily. "On it was a fan belt. I just got the next best thing, to tide you over, so to speak, until I can source the real thing." He stopped, the confidence suddenly draining from his face. "Oh my god!" he breathed out as if the idea had just come to him. "You didn't think I was giving you pantyhose to … you know … to wear!" He hit his head with the palm of his hand. "Jesus am I stupid or what? I never thought…" He shook his head, seemingly lost for words.
Baracus' eyes had narrowed and he was staring at the man in front of him with disbelief but his anger seemed to be cooling.
Peck continued. "I am so sorry, Sergeant. Man I mean am I dumb? I guess I deserve the beating you were gonna give me, right?" He let out a tight, almost terrified giggle.
Baracus snorted, looked around at the rest of the Team who were all wide-eyed and entranced by the scene. He glanced down at the pantyhose scrunched in his big fist and then he shook his head. He let out a high pitched incongruous chuckle. "Man gave me pantyhose!" he muttered in disbelief. "Me – he gave me pantyhose for ma fan belt!"
Brennan started to laugh too and suddenly the whole hootch descended into near hysterical laughter. Peck silently let out the breath he had been holding throughout the escapade. He looked Baracus in the eye. "I'll get you your stuff, I promise," he said.
The big man wiped a tear from his eye with the back of his hand. "You will," he agreed. "Or you still gonna feel my fist!"
Later Peck slipped out of the hootch for a cigarette. He felt the presence behind him and turned to see Brennan regarding him with a sceptical look on his face.
He offered the other Lieutenant the packet and then lit the cigarette that Brennan took.
"You're real clever, Peck, going into the A Team's home and giving BA Baracus a pair of pantyhose – they'll write songs about this day," Brennan said, his voice was ironic but not unkind. He sniffed dismissively, "But it's gonna take more than a pair of pantyhose to win them over."
Peck blew out a lungful of air. "It's a start," he said.
Brennan nodded. "It is but only that. BA – he's a good man. You play straight with him and he'll protect you to the end but you try and con him and…."
"I understand. I don't aim to con anybody, not on my Team anyway. I been out of circulation for a while but I'm back now and I can help."
Brennan nodded again. "But BA he ain't the worst. There are others in this Team much more dangerous. You need to watch your back. Hannibal needs a good XO - he deserves the best!"
Peck shuffled nervously. "I'm not perfect. I admit that I made some mistakes but I really want to succeed at this. Can I call you Ray?" Brennan nodded so Peck continued. "I didn't want the job; I thought he'd give it to you. I never would have…"
Brennan raised a hand. "Don't lie to me, Peck. You're different to me - I can smell the ambition rolling off you. I just wanted you to know I take things as I see 'em. You and me we got no history, I got no reason not to trust you, let's keep it that way." He threw down the cigarette butt and scrunched it purposefully into the red dirt.
Peck nodded. "Appreciate it, Ray," he said softly and sincerely. "Thanks."
Brennan shrugged. "Hannibal has his reasons and I ain't gonna second guess him – he usually gets things right. I just hope he's right about you!" With that he moved back into the hootch, whistling softly to himself.
Peck sighed as he ran his hand through his still too long hair – man he really didn't want to get it cut! "You and me both, Ray," he muttered. "You and me both!"
TBC
