Personal
Part 3
The limo ride to Guerin's office was long and silent, if you didn't count Murdock's attempts to bait BA from the driver's seat, which Face didn't. And even those eventually stopped. BA found the control to the partition between them and closed the dark divider right in the middle of Murdock's theorization that BA was, in reality, a result of alien-human hybrid technology.
Face wished it would have continued. The antics were a distraction at least, from the pitted feeling growing in his stomach, and from BA's anger. With the partition closed, there was no more buffer. Nothing to make the crazy in his head less loud. With the partition closed, everything wrong and confusing in Face's gut seemed to suddenly want out of him, seemed to want to crawl out his ears and dance jigs on his shoulders. He fiddled with the buttons on the console to his left, stole glances at BA, and started to wonder what he'd done to make the sergeant believe there was something wrong with him.
He was careful not to twitch or shake his foot, or do any of the other things he knew he did when he worried.
He was careful to ignore the raw tingling of his nerves.
And he was careful to think of all the ways he could convince BA that this concern he had was all in his head. The Faceman was fine. Nothing was crawling up from his gut... no jigs on his shoulders. All systems go. The Faceman was acting exactly like himself.
BA's worry was a stupid misunderstanding. It was BA just… misinterpreting the facts… jumping to conclusions... as it were.
More than once Face opened his mouth to speak, but as soon as he moved, BA would scowl, eyebrows lowering over warning eyes, and Face would start to worry that instead of picking up on something he was doing, BA was picking up on something he wasn't doing and he'd close his mouth without saying anything at all.
By the time they were in range of Guerin's building, Face was certain he was becoming irrevocably neurotic. When Hannibal's radio squawked from the seat beside him, he snatched it up in stark relief. "Colonel?"
"You guys in position?"
"Not quite, but we're close," Face answered.
"Good. When you pull up, wait for us to signal before you move forward."
"Copy that." Face glanced at BA who nodded tersely to show he'd heard the order.
"And tell the others, Stacy called again from the shelter—she's found a witness. One of their not-always-sober regulars says he saw three men in a service truck waiting outside the shelter and talking to at least one of our missing kids."
Our missing kids, Face thought.
Our missing kids…
Hannibal made it sound like they'd actually met these kids before. Made it sound personal and possessive, yet casual and dismissive at the same time.
Our missing kids.
Face snorted. They'd never met these kids. No one was even making a fuss that they were missing and if it weren't for the woman who tried to report them missing the team would still just be after some stupid tapes. Stacy wasn't even the children's mother. For all they knew these kids belonged to no one—their own parents too scared, too drunk, too cynical, or too absent to make the missing person's report themselves.
These were nobody's kids.
BA cleared his throat.
Face looked over, then back at his radio. "He see anything else?" he asked, knowing Hannibal would have told him otherwise, but he needed to say something, to sound in control. His throat felt tight. The effort he made to sound controlled came out over-exaggerated.
From the corner of his eye he saw BA punch the partition's controls with his index finger, rolling down the divider so Murdock could hear the conversation Face was having.
"That's all we have for now, yeah, but it gives more credibility to Stacy's assumption that Guerin actually has the kids and they're not off playing in a warehouse somewhere. We can at least assume we're not going to be following up on a wild goose chase."
BA snatched the radio from Face's hands. "What about Carter?" he barked.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning, how we supposed to know if his information is right? Man, how we supposed to know these kids are even still alive?" BA's scowl deepened with every word.
A feeling, raw and itchy, crawled across Face's arms and every other part of him felt suddenly heavy. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until another of BA's pointed scowls caught him in a glare.
He expelled the air in a rush.
Murdock glanced back from the steering wheel, looking at Face with a raised eyebrow.
"We don't," answered Hannibal honestly. "Carter's given us as much information as he can. He's made his best guess as to where Guerin would put them. We'll have to go with it and hope for the best."
"Right." BA handed the radio back to Face, who let it fall to the seat between them.
"Gentlemen, we have arrived," Murdock announced using a cheerful British accent that grated on Face's raw nerves.
Face picked the radio back up. "Hannibal, we're in position."
"Us too. Looks like we're ready. Remember, Face, wait five minutes before moving. We got the rest of it."
"Right," he said, and swallowed. As antsy as he felt, five minutes would feel like an eternity. He heard another crackle from the radio. Hannibal seemed to be waiting for something. Face pushed the button and lifted it to his lips. "No time like the present," he quipped woefully.
Hannibal signaled his reply.
"You're on, BA," said Face.
BA exited the vehicle, throwing Face one last piercing look.
Too late, again, Face realized his foot was tapping mutely against the carpeted floorboard.
The growl built low in Face's throat. "I wasn't trying to get hurt. I wasn't being suicidal. I wasn't anything," he said tightly, expressing as much anger as one could while lying flat on a couch.
Hannibal's stern and concerned commanding-officer expression only deepened.
"Sir," Face added forcefully, not sure himself whether he was using the respectful term as a sneer or a plea.
"Try again, Lieutenant." The colonel spoke calmly, apparently un-phased by Face's frustrated and defensive tone of voice. But the undertow of his years as their leader echoed past the short words, past the now tiring reminder of rank, and past Face's hope of getting him too fed up to keep asking the questions. This wasn't just protocol. Hannibal was genuinely concerned.
"It's not my fault they went to me three on one," Face muttered. It was a final attempt to sway the situation back into their regular relationship of sarcasm and banter. Besides that, the statement was true. All of it was true, Face reasoned to himself. Hannibal would have to accept it.
He didn't. He crossed his arms and waited. And Face knew Hannibal could wait a long time—was the only one who could really wait him out. Murdock would go to lengths to talk it out of him. BA would scowl or grunt and use other not-subtle intimations of intimidation. Face could counter both approaches, but with Hannibal it was different. With Hannibal it was all in the glare. The steadiness. The determination. The wait.
"Okay, you're up, Murdock, or, I'm sorry, Captain Spock," said Face, checking BA's progress through the massive windows curling around the front entrance of Guerin's building. BA was still standing in the lobby, having not yet been invited to sit.
He'd only been in the building two minutes, but already two extra security guards had appeared on the floor. They're focus was centered completely on BA's surly and suited figure, just as Hannibal had predicted.
Face fleetingly grinned. It was fun to watch BA play a role. Even if he always insisted he hated doing it.
"I am not Captain Spock!" Murdock protested, using an accent Face placed somewhere between mad scientist and Hogan's Heroes. "It is you all who are the aliens, not me. You've sucked me into your world and—"
"Murdock, just get going, okay?"
"Sure, muchacho, all you had to do was ask." Murdock checked his watch and winked back at Face. "I'm going for a walk. Keep an eye on the big guy, if they find out he's an alien, they might try to dissect him."
"I'm on it—get going."
"Sir, yes sir!" Murdock snapped a salute, slipped out the car door and began a casual stroll toward the building's west side. Face could see the pier and the ocean blinking beyond him in the distance.
"Hannibal." He clicked on the radio. "Murdock's coming around."
"Good, we're set here. Mark the time. Three minutes."
"Three minutes," Face repeated, checking his own watch. He'd been right before. This felt like an eternity.
"Where are the others?" Face asked suddenly.
"Face," warned Hannibal.
"I just want to know where everyone is."
"They're out," Hannibal answered simply. He rose to his feet, pacing the length of the silent room, fingering an unlit cigar.
"Out where?" Face persisted.
"It's not important. Until I know what's going on in your head, and what you plan to do with that information, the actions of this team are on a need-to-know basis.
"So… a few punches and I'm off the squad, huh?" Face looked away, setting his gaze on the greenish pattern running over the upholstery he lay on. He hoped his sarcasm had outweighed the bitterness he wanted Hannibal to pick up on.
"No," said Hannibal easily. "We're just hoping to keep you alive and sane for the next round."
"Oh? I didn't know we had a sanity clause. How's Murdock get to know anything?"
"Our only clause refers to the lieutenants of the team who normally prefer to avoid getting injured yet suddenly and deliberately goad three large men into beating him half to death."
"I didn't… I wasn't… Hannibal, this is ridiculous." Face moved to sit up again, knowing he shouldn't. And this time it wasn't the colonel that stopped him.
The bruising in his stomach and ribs sent a warning pain through his body that caught him off guard. He dropped back to the couch, gasping, surprised at the sharpness in the ache.
Face checked his watch. Three minutes. It was time.
He clicked on his radio at the same time he reached for door handle. "Hannibal, I'm set."
"Okay," Hannibal replied. "Ready. Let's go."
Smoothing his hair down, Face strode across the way toward the front doors and opened them with a demanding flourish.
The security guards on the floor turned their eyes away from BA to look in his direction but snapped back to BA within seconds. BA's job was being well done.
"Mr. Bracken," Face spoke loudly. "What is the holdup?" He stepped completely into the building and strode purposefully to BA's side, giving a dismissive glance to the important looking man the sergeant was speaking to.
"I told you to wait in the car," BA growled, beautifully in character.
"I got tired of waiting in the car," whined Face, indignant and snobby. "You've been here in the lobby over five minutes and they clearly haven't even invited you to sit, let alone contacted Mr. Guerin to let him know you're here. I've been watching. If this is the way they do business I don't think we want to do business with them. My father's only interested in investing, not desperate to save this place from drowning."
The important looking man looked insulted, just as Face desired. "And you are?" the man questioned snidely.
Face looked over as though just noticing he was there. "Harrison Williams the Third," he said, indifferent, immediately turning back to BA. "Let's get out of here. I may not be president of The Harrison Williams Corporation yet, but there's no way I'm allowing us to invest millions of dollars in a company this shabby."
"Shabby!" The important man was indignant, but he was starting to get a clue. "I assure you, sir, we are not a shabby company in any respect. If you'll have the patience to wait a few moments more, we'll tell Mr. Guerin you've arrived."
"We arrived ten minutes ago. No offense, but I'm not in the mood to wait any longer—"
BA cut Face's tirade off with a front handed grip to his bicep. "We'll wait," he growled. "But make it quick. We didn't come here to spend all day staring at your tiled floors."
Face grinned. He did love to see BA in action.
Guerin's representative snapped around quickly at BA's command, nearly tripping as he rushed to comply. The plan was working perfectly, Face thought, releasing a small, relieved sigh.
He shifted on his feet, and it was then he realized BA hadn't let go of him yet. Suddenly self-conscious, he tried to step sideways a pace but only felt the grip tighten and with it, the reality of the case crashed back down on him. He felt a surge of anger, felt his face get hot, prickly with emotions he couldn't identify. For a second, he'd been able to forget, but now…
He drew a slow breath through his nose, counting, calming himself, forcing rational thoughts back into his head. BA was just keeping in character and his continued grip on Face's arm had nothing to do with their earlier exchange. It didn't mean anything. Face could break it if he wanted to. BA was just being a professional, as was Face.
They were both just playing parts. None of this was based on anything real.
A tremble started up in his hands. He bunched them and shoved them in his pockets. He didn't look at his teammate.
BA's hand tightened slightly.
Face's rationales looped more swiftly through his brain. It worked for a moment, but with Mr. Importance out of range, his own character role faltered. He found himself not knowing what he should do next. If he met BA's eyes… If he made a big deal about how BA could let him go now… If he did any of those things he wasn't sure he should do, he might crack, even if it was just role-play.
BA would see through him, see all the parts unraveling.
Face opted for staying still. Inaction could be the wrong action but he had nothing better. He kept breathing, counting, looking towards the elevator where the man rushing to get Guerin had disappeared, hoping his clearly avoidant stare would be better than letting BA see directly into the growing madness in his eyes.
But it wasn't better. BA's grip shifted, seemed to tighten even more, and Face knew he was proving BA's suspicions, that he wasn't acting like himself, because he was again doing what he usually wouldn't have done… or not doing what he would have… and he knew BA knew it, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out—couldn't remember— what his 'usually' would have been.
He stared at the elevator, following the lights that showed what floor Mr. Importance was traveling past, pretending not to care, pretending to be unaware of his teammate's deepening glower.
He was grateful when Hannibal's voice invaded through the tiny microphones tucked in their left ears. "We're in and Murdock reports that Mr. Guerin and his associate are heading down to your position now. Move to phase two."
Oh good, Face thought. The part we get to make up as we go along.
tbc