Author's Note: The style for this story is a bit different than the others I've posted, so I hope it doesn't disappoint! Also, while I have a good start on the remaining five chapters, they are still very much in-progress. I usually try to avoid posting multi-chapter stories until they're fully written (those of you who have been waiting for the last chapter to "Light in the Dark" can probably guess why, lol). But the 5 plus 1 set-up for this story means each chapter will basically be able to stand on it's own. So, if y'all are willing to take a risk on me and this story, I'll do my best to get the new chapters up as quickly as I can.

This story is also technically the fourth entry in my P.O.W. series, but it can be read on its own without any confusion. Also this first chapter has a much different tone than the others, so be prepared for some Humor and Team Hi-jinks. But don't worry! The Angst, Hurt/Comfort, and Torture will be coming back into play soon enough. Until then... enjoy!

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The first time Face lied to Kao was Day Number One.

As days went, it had not been one of the Team's best. Nothing had gone right, even before they'd crashed fifty klicks from the DMZ. It had almost seemed fitting. Of course they'd crashed. And of course the dying Huey had left a swath through the jungle a blind man could follow. Capture was imminent because of course they'd gone down in one of the hottest spots in the territory.

It hadn't been an easy pill to swallow, but at least knowing what was coming had given them time to prepare. Dumping their dog tags had felt like a sacrilege. So had ripping off the sleeves of their fatigues and burying their insignias. Face wasn't overly attached to his Lieutenant's bars, but he'd tailored those fatigues himself—and seeing Hannibal without at least one bird decorating his collar was almost as wrong as seeing Murdock without his wings. But pilots, high ranking officers, and anyone in special forces were priority targets. The fact they were so deep behind enemy lines without back-up was a dead giveaway they were special forces. But that was the only piece of free information the VC would be getting from them anytime soon.

It took almost two hours for Charlie to pin them down—and thirteen to march them over what felt like half of southeast Asia. On the bright-ish side, Face was pretty certain their meanderings had carried them into Laos, rather than North Vietnam. It wasn't much, but at least they weren't destined to rot in the Hanoi Hilton. On the not-so-bright side, having their arms tied to bamboo poles and their captors just itching for an excuse to shoot them, meant escape had been (temporarily) out of the question.

The alternate plan had been simple: stay alive, watch for opportunities, give nothing away. Getting ushered into what was cheerily known as a Death Camp had put a slight damper on their prospects of staying alive. And being swarmed by soldiers who eyed them like meat on a platter made watching for opportunities a depressing pastime. But that still left give nothing away.

It was Basic Training 2.0, Prisoner of War Edition: eyes forward, mouth shut, don't react, don't look around. Simple. At least in theory.

But habits were hard to break, and Face found himself terrified he would make a mistake. Looking to Hannibal for guidance was as instinctive now as breathing. Especially in moments of panic. No matter how many things were exploding, Face knew if he could just catch Hannibal's eye, it would be okay. Hannibal would tell him what to do or assure him that all the insanity and death wasn't going to take them under. Sometimes he did it with words, but more often than not, all it took was a grin or a gesture. And Hannibal never failed him. It was like a sixth sense. The plan could be coming apart at the seams, but if Face looked, Hannibal would look back. Always. In the field, it was a gift.

In the Camp, it could get Hannibal killed—one flick of the eyes marking him as their leader, insignia or not.

But as they stood in front of Kao for the first time, Face realized Hannibal was already marked. His steel gray hair set him apart from the rest of them who still looked like they had a few years to go before their voices stopped changing. So when Kao zeroed in on Hannibal and asked in perfect English which of them was the leader, Face opened his mouth. A fake name and slightly ambitious rank rolled off of his tongue, and the last part of their oh-so-simple plan bit the dust.

It took Hannibal all of three seconds to recover, and then he was spitting out a fake name, an even higher rank, and telling Face to, "Keep it together, Sergeant."

Face retaliated with a flat smile and a, "You keep it together, Private."

No sooner had the demotion left his mouth, than Murdock entered the fray. In a rapid fire stream of consciousness he labeled them all as Corporals, swore up and down their leader was a fifth party named Major Maguffy, and demanded to know why Kao wasn't out looking for poor old Guff-Guff if he wanted to talk to him so bad.

"One of your number escaped?"

"Of course he escaped! How else could he not be here, if he hadn't escaped?"

Nonexistence leapt to mind, but Face kept that to himself.

Things devolved quite nicely from there with Hannibal crawling Murdock for giving the Major away, Murdock waxing poetic about his Great-Aunt Bernice whose dedication to the truth somehow made her relevant to this conversation, and Face insisting that Maguffy was a coward and he was glad they'd lost him. The exchange became more and more heated, with the three of them calling each other every rank in the book and randomly asserting that regardless of Maguffy's fate and Bernice's recent burial, they were in charge now.

Murdock had just one-upped them all by declaring himself an Admiral in Her Majesty's Fleet and threatening everyone present with charges of mutiny, when B.A. took matters into his own hands.

"Shut up, fools. Shut up!" He glared them all into silence, then stepped into Kao's personal space. "I don't care what they say. They all crazy. I'm in charge."

"You?"

"Yeah. You got somethin' to say about that?"

Kao had quite a bit to say as it turned out, but it was all in Vietnamese and directed at no one in particular, so Face allowed himself the luxury of just standing there in shock.

Fifteen minutes later, they'd been cut free of the bamboo poles and shoved into a cell the size of walk-in closet. Apparently, Kao had decided to keep them on ice (figuratively speaking) until he'd consulted his doctor about starting an aspirin regimen.

Face would've cheered if his arms hadn't been hanging like dead weights at his sides, and his jaw wasn't still dragging the floor. "B.A., what just happened?"

The question had the rest of the Team swiveling around to stare at their Sergeant, too. Clearly, Face wasn't the only one struggling to come to terms with this unexpected turn of the universe.

But B.A.—the man who had never told a single lie before in his life—just snarled. "What? I am in charge."

"Yes," Hannibal drew the word out with a frown. "You are in charge—of our ordnance."

"Hey, man. I just told the dude I was in charge. If he wanted to know of what, he should'a asked."

Hannibal grinned at Face. "Don't you love it?"

Face grinned back. "We may make a conman out of him yet."

"Which just goes to prove Great-Auntie was right," Murdock crowed, rocking up on his toes. "She always said 'tell the absolute truth—it's the world's best lie'."

"That don't make no sense, fool."

"Of course it don't! Great-Auntie was crazier than a bedbug in a mattress factory. You can't expect someone like that to be right and make sense, can you?"

"No," B.A. snapped. "Because they ain't never right. They just crazy in the head, like you."

Swinging a clumsy and obviously still numb arm onto B.A.'s shoulder (and smacking him in the face in the process), Murdock beamed. "Why thanks, big guy. I think a lot of you, too."

Her Majesty's Admiral soon found himself hoisted off the ground by his shirt collar (though how B.A. managed to have enough motor control for that feat was a mystery) and Face couldn't help it: he laughed.

And once he'd started, he couldn't stop.

Maybe it was the almost ridiculous familiarity of it all. Or some weird side effect of running on nothing but fear and adrenaline for the past twenty-eight hours. Or maybe it was just the overwhelming relief that the four of them were still alive and together in spite of everything. But whatever it was, Face found himself breathless with it. Hannibal and Murdock weren't far behind him, and it only got worse when even B.A. broke. Their bad tempered Sergeant shifted from growling to giggling in the space of half a second, and Face almost passed out from lack of oxygen.

They ended up on the floor together in that cramped cell, pressed even closer to one another than they had to be, and struggling to wipe their eyes. It felt good. Right in a way nothing else had since their capture. It gave Face hope that everything really would be okay. Death Camp, hungry-eyed soldiers, missing Guff-Guff, and all.

It was the last truly happy memory Face would have for months to come.