Chapter 4

All a Bad Dream

Face shook himself awake, grabbing at the hospital sheets and letting a panicky gasp escape his lips. Was this all a bad dream? Where were the masks? Wasn't he supposed to be dead?

He hardly noticed the rest of his team, standing or sitting around him, with worried looks on their faces.

"Hey, Faceman, you're back!" Murdock wrapped his arms around him, shouting in his ears.

BA wasn't going to be left out. "What were you trying to do Face, you scared us half to death fool!" He growled, gripping Face by the shoulders and shaking him a little.

Face stared up at the big guy, tears welling up in his eyes. But for what reason, he didn't know. He just felt light headed and childish. "I'm sorry!" He sobbed, before he could stop himself. "I just, just…I just want…I don't know what I want!" He managed to blurt out. He turned to stare pleadingly at Murdock, who had a startled look on his face.

"What's wrong with the Facial One? Is he crazy too?" Murdock questioned seriously, talking more to himself than to anyone else.

"Don't worry Murdock. He's just really high that's all." Hannibal comforted, gazing in to the Lieutenant's dark blue eyes. "Great to see you awake, kid."

"They were talkin gibberish, Hannibal. They were going on and on about me going to a birthday party and I'm not even dressed for one!" Face's shoulder's shook with laughter. "Then they started screaming at me, all because I wasn't dressed right."

A nurse, padded over to take his temperature. Face stared up at her and reached out to take her hand. "You're the nurse that stabbed me with sharp straw, right?" He stared into her eyes, giving her a searching look.

She smiled at him pleasantly, and held out a small plastic cup of ice-water. "Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. But you need to rest up." She gave him a small once over. "I'm afraid they had to give you a pretty good dose of pain-killers, Mr. Peck, but are you hungry?"

Face gave her a weak version of million dollar smile, and gripped her hand warmly. "I-I guess I could eat something. I haven't really had anything since yesterday morning. Couldn't keep it down."

The nurse nodded, and slipped quietly out of the room. Face stared after her, giving her a strange look from his deep blue eyes.

When she came back, he accepted the tray of tasteless, mushy food and ate it without a single complaint. He only whined when he was finished.

"What is this stuff? I thought it was macaroni and cheese! It's cold and mushy!" He whined.

"I'm pretty sure it was macaroni and cheese last time I checked." The nurse joked, her eyes twinkling.

"Well, it all looks like mush. And there isn't enough of it either, I feel like I'm eating an infant's diet!" Face gave a small smile, and wiped his lips on the napkin the nurse proffered.

"You have to start small, Mr. Peck after an operation." The nurse reminded him. "Now if there's nothing more you want, I will return to my duties."

Face watched her leave with an obvious look of regret in his eyes. He smoothed the rumpled sheets. He closed his eyes. She'd proscribed, rest, well that's what he'd do. Rest. And when he was well enough, maybe, just maybe, he could get to know her better.

The next few weeks moved at a sluggish pace. Murdock was always in Face's room. He ate, slept and talked to him during the day. Face never had a real chance to be alone.

And yet, Face was still was afraid that Decker would find him. He had seen the way the military worked at tracking down criminals, and Decker had devoted his life to catching the A-team. Fortunately, whenever he thought he had them, he always lost them. Thankfully, he hadn't been tipped off. Yet.

But, casting that fear aside, there was always an element of good humor to his days. There were the fights between Murdock and BA that Face had always thought so childish. And then, sometimes, only on certain intervals, he got to see Hannibal.

Hannibal had gone back to starring as the monster in his Aquamaniac movies and he very rarely had a chance to check in on his second in command. But when he did, he made sure it was a nice, long visit.

Face could never remember a time where he'd felt happier. He felt calm, which was unusual for him, considering the pain-meds that the nurse, Miss Molly Macguire had been having him take.

It was because of her, in fact that he was so happy. During those long weeks, he had already been keeping his eye on her as a potential date, but soon it soon turned into more than that. The more he observed her, the more the question raised itself to his mind. Was she THE ONE.

There had been so many girls. All pretty, all painted with make-up, all dressed-up. But none of them could satisfy his need for a good, steady help-meet.

He had thought of Amy once because of her skills and willingness to get down and get dirty. But she hadn't been the one either. Neither had Leslie, or Rina...His train of thought jumped to that morning when he had seen Molly talking to Hannibal in the corridor, calling him "Mr. Smith".

For some reason, even just that simple act of politeness to a stranger struck an emotional chord in him somewhere.

And he couldn't forget that she had been praying over himself in the middle of all the ruckus that first night. He'd felt so alone, so helpless, ready to die for his team's safety. But that hadn't been nessecary. She had taken care of all his fears with one of her gorgeous smiles.

He stared into her open, honest face so much prettier than those gaudy boy-George like creatures he'd dated way back. But it was plain beauty that radiated outwards, something he didn't see every day. Very little make-up. And most importantly, no mascara.

"Good morning, Mr. Peck." She said cheerfully, holding out the usual breakfast tray. The food had started to get better. "I trust you slept well last night?"

Face grinned. He couldn't care less about food. His stomach felt fluttery. A feeling that he had always assumed only a girl could have but still, the butterflies were flitting in there.

He gestured for her to put the tray on the side table, sliding a leg out from under the sheets, gasping at the embarrassing paleness of his knees. But he kept on trying to get out of the high, hospitable bed. Finally, he let her lower the bed and help him up.

He stood there, wavering, now unsure of how to do this. He'd almost done it to Leslie, why weren't the words coming back? He took a deep breath, and knelt down on one knee, trying to ignore the pain that tortured his body. He jerkily clutched at the sheets and reached out with his free hand, sliding a small wooden box he had hidden under his pillows towards him.

"Don't mind the knees, they're just…there." Face stammered, turning red. He hated embarrassment, it wasn't good for his self-image. And especially when he was in the middle of the biggest decision he would ever make.

But the nurse didn't seem phased. She gave him a slightly amused smile, and toned it down to a polite one. But it was warm and friendly never-the-less.

Face cleared his throat, and cautiously started to let his life's story come out. He hated the possibility that she might be a military plant, but he had to at least try. "But the point is, I'm usually good with words." He finished sincerely, staring into Molly's eyes. "I still am. But I haven't been able to word what I want to say to you correctly." Face felt himself starting to blush, but he kept on trying to soliloquize. "So I'm gonna sing."

Face threw himself into belting out Barry Manilow's Mandy, like there was no tomorrow. He only used the name Molly instead.

I remember all my life

Raining down as cold as ice

Shadows of a man

A face through a window, cryin' in the night

The night goes into morning, just another day

Happy people pass my way

Looking in their eyes

I see a memory, you'll never realize how happy you've made me

Oh, Molly well,

You came and you gave without taking

And I can't send you away

Oh Molly well,

You kissed me and stopped me from shaking

And I need you today

Oh, Molly

He watched Molly raise her eyebrows as he held open the ring box for her to see it. And Face felt himself blushing again. He was hoping that she wasn't one of those people. He didn't want another refusal. Especially after the trauma of seeing Leslie go off, leaving him and not even telling him where she was or what she was doing.

Once he had finished, he looked up at her. "I know it's not much of a life, being on the run. Hannibal would kill me anyway for saying I got engaged, but I can't live my life just with a couple of guys. I know that you think we're innocent and all that, but could you live with it? And me, I-I'm just a con-man. I'm the magician who pulls buses and garbage trucks out of his hat instead of rabbits. But my main question is, would you, could you live that life with me?" For the first time, Face felt he had run out of words to say. He hadn't exactly put things perfectly eloquently the way he had hoped, but he had gotten it out never-the-less.

Molly smiled. "I've been praying. And I've come to a conclusion that I can't just marry a guy I just met. But we can have a trial run and get to know each other better."

Face saw the wisdom in what she said. He grinned at her. "But will you still wear the ring? You'll be stolen away from me, otherwise. And I couldn't stand for that." He slid the ring onto Molly's fourth finger, and smiled one of his genuine smiles. He pushed himself up from his kneeling position as quickly as he dared, and tried to get back in bed.

"Can I help you up, Tem?" Molly tugged at his arm, steadying him.

"You can call me Face, if you want. Just don't call me Tempy, or Templeton. I couldn't stand for that." Face pleaded.

"Okay, Tem, honey. I can see why they call you Face, but where did you get a name like that? The army?"

Face sighed, and faraway look strayed into his eyes. "You guessed it. Murdock took to calling me that. And then Hannibal and BA followed. BA never really liked me that much back then, he was always calling me "Rich Kid" or "Pretty Boy". I had never told anyone there that I was an orphan. And even if I had, that wouldn't have really changed anything. For me, that would have been showing weakness, a fear of being pummeled by friendly fire."