Hannibal's point of view
I watch in amusement as my son cheerfully talks with his friends at his birthday party. He looks good, as usual, and despite being in fatigues he looks gorgeous. I know how much he likes to be around people and to celebrate and so I decided to organize a real birthday party for him, the first one since I've discovered his origins.
When I was 19, the only woman I have ever truly loved in my life left me without a reason – apparently – and she left a hole in my soul; the moment she came into my life it was like a hurricane had wiped out my whole existence; when she went away, she left me void, helpless, without a reason to live. I tried to contact her but it seemed she had disappeared into a hole in the ground and so I went on with my life: I joined the Army, became a Ranger, and then the career and the missions were all my world.
Until I found the little runt on my way: he said he was 20 but I doubt he was 18, however his papers said he was old enough to do his job. Colonel Morrison said he was a pain in the ass, he was clever but cocky, hotheaded and stubborn; no one wanted him in their unit, so I decided to take him with me, because I knew there was something good behind all the bullshits they said about him and that, with someone to guide him, he could become a good soldier. You might think I took him with me as a Good Samaritan, some actually thought I chose him for pity but it wasn't true. Not for me anyway.
He was a good sniper and I liked the way he thought. I tried to break him, at the beginning, but it didn't work; I risked losing him so I decided to trust him and, with time, he learnt to trust me back and listen to me, even take my advice into consideration. I gained his respect and I was happy about it. In the Army, you know, there are two kind of soldiers: the ones that just follow orders but can't think with their own head, and the ones that have their own mind but are unable to cope with the system; what we do is manhandle the first ones and try to break those last ones, because when I give an order I want to be obeyed without a word and that Face couldn't do. But, after we finally cleared ourselves up about our positions, it was a pleasure to work with him and soon his talent became undeniable to everyone. Obviously, at this point, I wouldn't let him go away from me. I like to think he didn't want to leave my team, either.
It was after two years that I casually found out about him. I caught him with his guard down one night, a rare fact for him, but with me he didn't bother to lie; even if he had tried to, he would have failed miserably. He knew that so he simply watched me with the biggest wet blue eyes I've ever seen and handed me a letter, where it was written in a neat handwriting that a priest, Father David Maghill, had died the week before because of pneumonia. I didn't know about this priest and Face explained everything to me: that the man was the only person who really cared for him; he was his mentor and actually saved him from a sad destiny in the streets of a big city; he was the closest figure of a father to him, who never knew about his parents, even if he had a photo of his mother that the woman apparently left in the crib of the orphanage where the kid spent his whole life before joining the Army.
I discovered Face had the photo always with him, in his pocket; it was on old and yellowish paper, however when I looked at it I recognized her immediately, Gladys Miller, the most sweet creature on earth. The woman who went away from me because she was pregnant and apparently wasn't interested in taking the baby with her. That's why she disappeared without a trace; she knew if I had known about her condition I would have tried to convince her to marry me and to raise the child together. So I knew I was Face's father and later a DNA test confirmed my suspicions. I tried to cover my stupor and if the kid wasn't so shaken up he would had seen right through me. Luckily, he didn't notice my shock as I held my breath watching the woman and quickly returned the photo to him, murmuring I was sorry for his loss and trying to comfort him as best as I could. It wasn't the right moment to tell him. We spent the night together, Face talked and talked and I learnt many things about him and I can say I saw him for the first time, like he really was under his many masks.
The realization that the young man was actually my son at first induced me to treat him differently. Face didn't understand why and the thing pissed him off. I thought of asking the General to assign him to another unit but then I knew I would go crazy worrying about him so I made the only possible choice left for me: I pretended to not know about who he really was. Of course I was always there for him if he needed me but I didn't force him anyway.
Some years later, when Charissa Sosa left him (like his mother did with me) I was there to comfort him. It was a shock to see how wasted he was and it reminded me how I felt when Gladys left me. Between me and the guys we managed to help him and now my two youngest boys always joke about the woman, actually calling her El Diablo.
So, it happened that the moment to tell him the truth about his parents never came. Face seemed happy and satisfied with his life and there was no reason for me to come out with the subject. But eventually one night, while we were discussing a plan and the kid was being annoying, I lost my patience and actually told him to listen to me and to respect me as I was his father. My statement was met with silence by the whole team, then Bosco dragged Murdock out of the tent and we were left alone. Face accused me of lying to him and cursed, mad at me because I didn't tell him as soon as I discovered the fact. He tried to fight me but at the end he melted in my arms and sobbed his anger and frustrations and I let him, happy to be there for him.
Since that moment, we are always together. He cares for me as much as I care for him, we respect each other as Army officers and as father and son. I am proud of him and Face, in reverse, tries his best to please me with his actions, even if sometimes he gets hurt and those times I feel like dying every time.
This year, I wanted to surprise him for his birthday. The Party thing was just a cover for the real gift I chose for him: the newest shotgun of our Army. A very special one. I'm going to give it to him when everybody has left.
Templeton Peck, my son!