John Smith was expecting one of several scenarios to his order but this wasn't one of them. Face
was practically despondent at the thought of sharing this "thing" as he had come to think of it. He
also didn't remember the last time his lieutenant couldn't look him in the eye. This is huge, he
thinks and has grown from concern to fear in his own mind. Now he had to know, for the sake of
their relationship and interaction with the team. Would Face ever look him in the eye again?
Could he ever trust his second in command completely and without reservation in the future?
Would this secret cast a pall over their relationship forever? Hannibal felt a chill sliver down his
spine at that thought. They were as close as any two men could be. Implicitly trusting in the
other man to be there no matter what. And there was no way Colonel John Smith was going to
let that go because of some demon haunting the kid's past. To back off would concede that.
Placing the dying cigar butt in the ashtray, Hannibal stretched his hand out to grip the side of
Peck's head, his fingers resting in the short hairs on his neck. He spoke quietly, when the young
man's eyes met his. "Face we've been through everything together in over fourteen years of
friendship. I would go through the very gates of hell to watch your back if you asked me to.
There is absolutely nothing you could tell me that would change how I feel about you. But
this...kid if we drop this, there will always be a barrier between us. It wouldn't be intentional. I
know that, but I'll always wonder if you've shared everything and you'll question whether you
really can tell me everything. I won't let that happen. I won't let there be these silences, these
doubts between us. Telling me may not change anything, but you don't have to go through it
alone. Please kid, believe in me, in us."
Face felt his mouth go dry. He could almost tangibly feel the intensity radiate from the man next
to him. Hannibal wasn't an emotional guy. Yeah, he often displayed anger, disgust, or a strange
sense of humor but this... Face knew his commander would go to the mat for his guys. His
reputation for protecting his men was legendary, but this was different. They had never had a
conversation about their friendship. Its nuances had always been understood or so Face thought.
To watch Hannibal view this secret as an affront to that relationship, and his subsequent reaction,
confounded the younger man. He did trust Hannibal with his life, but he evidently didn't fully
understand the reciprocal devotion the older man felt as well. Face wondered if the Earth had
flipped upside down or if he had never really considered Hannibal's viewpoint before.
He had been a well known troublemaker at the base in Vietnam. Liked by his fellow soldiers for
an uncanny ability to procure nearly anything, he was despised by his commander and most of the
other officers. His smartass mouth resulted in Colonel Bennington sending him on several
dangerous missions in the hope that the North Vietnamese would take care of the problem.
That's eventually how he had met Colonel John Smith. His unit was short a couple of men, who
were laid up in the base hospital. That didn't matter as he had a mission to complete and thus was
loaned some temps to finish the job. Face's CO was more than happy to foist the aggravating
Lieutenant Peck into Smith's custody. The kid had no concern for his own personal safety, but
had taken care of his platoon and displayed amazing skills at the point and with his sniper rifle.
Hannibal's interest had been peaked. Two days after returning to base he found a box of Cuban
cigars and a bottle of scotch along with a note thanking him for an unbelievable story to tell at a
bar someday. Hannibal immediately sought him out. The two shared the bottle, a couple of
cigars and a get acquainted dinner. The next day Face, as BA had christened him, was officially
transferred to Smith's unit.
Staring into Hannibal's eyes he saw the deep abiding affection war with genuine concern about
how this silence would affect their friendship. Swallowing, "I...I've never told another living soul
this. I don't know if I can." It was a last ditch plea. Desperate eyes searching for an escape from
the corner he felt trapped in.
Hannibal released his hold of Face's arm on the table bringing that hand up to gently run it
through Face's hair in what he hoped was a calming, affection laden motion. This had escalated
well beyond alarm. The kid needed to talk. There was no question of that, but he couldn't force
him and he didn't want to guilt him into it, which might make him resentful later. John felt
himself walking a fine line, where one misstep could ruin everything. "It's going to be okay.
Start at the beginning or wherever you're comfortable and we'll figure it out from there, alright?
You just remember that nothing is going to change between us. I promise."
Face dropped his head, searching the ground for the right words. Hannibal squeezed his neck, in
what he hoped was a reassuring manner, before dropping his hands and lighting another cigar. He
wanted to give the kid the space he needed, while the cigar would help center himself. Peck
didn't meet his gaze as he fumbled with the pack of cigarettes, taking a deep drag while lighting it.
They were silent as Face poured more scotch into each of their tumblers, swallowing another pull
himself before setting the glass back down. "I did six months at juvie hall when I was fifteen."
The quiet contemplative voice carried more than enough. He finally looked up to see Hannibal's
eyebrows reach for his hairline at that surprising admission. Considering the kid's skills and
behavior tonight he shouldn't have been shocked, but he was. There was an unspoken
encouragement to continue.
"I was what they like to label high risk at the orphanage. Nobody adopted teenagers who were
life long orphans. I was always getting into trouble of one kind or another: mouthing off, chasing
girls, breaking curfew. There was a group of us, four guys who had been in the orphanage for as
long as we could remember. I was going to public school at the time and we hung out with other
kids who didn't fit in. I had learned to pick locks and hot-wire a car during my freshman year. I
practiced those skills whenever I had a chance. I was also the only one who could pick a pocket,
so we could have money for lunch off campus instead of the lousy cafeteria. Brad was seventeen
and had a friend who worked at a liquor store. That day we left a car by the loading dock with
the keys under the front seat and walked around of couple of the shops nearby. Half an hour later
we came back to find the keys in the same place but with a couple cases of beer and a bottle of
whiskey in the trunk."
"It was Friday night and we went out to the beach here in Malibu. In fact it's just a couple miles
down the road and got roaringly drunk. I'd never had whiskey before. Brad and I shared the
bottle and I was plastered. The police pulled us over at about 2:30 that morning on the way back
to the orphanage. Honest to God Hannibal, I didn't know that the car was stolen. Mike said it
belonged to his friend, I had no reason not to believe him. I don't even remember all of the
charges. I just remember the day in court for our sentencing, after we had been found guilty.
Father Salvador told the judge that jail might help us to learn that there are consequences to
breaking the law and felt the discipline would be good for us. Bastard was happy to get rid of
us."
Shaking his head with a smirk that was more a grimace than a smile Face finished off the
cigarette, flicking the butt into a full ashtray. Hannibal didn't know what to say choosing instead
to remain silent in the hopes that Face would continue.
"Oh man, you wouldn't believe that place. The state had it to where thirteen to fifteen year olds
were together and the sixteen to eighteen year olds were separated into their own section. Ya
know, to protect the younger kids from getting beat up by the bigger ones? That was the state's
version of segregation. We had our own brand. White kids hung out with white kids. Blacks,
Hispanics, and even the Asians all had their own cliques. In the yard there was a definite color
barrier. Beneath that was gang affiliation. Bloods and the Crips were always fighting amongst
themselves in the black section. Same goes for the Diablos and the Kings between the Hispanics.
Nobody messed with the Asians, those kids were fierce. There were a couple of times when the
whole yard would erupt in a riot. Some white kid attacking a black or some Hispanic attacking a
white. Then everybody would get involved."
"First time I saw that was like my fifth day there. I decided that getting on the good side of the
leaders was a must. A friend of mine Scott was still on the outside. He's the one who taught me
how to hot-wire a car and I taught him how to pick a lock. We were tight and the only reason he
didn't get busted with us was because he was with his girl that night. So I set it up between him
and a guard to acquire things the other guys would want. For a fee the guard would look the
other way when the laundry truck had an extra box of stuff. Everyone wanted cigarettes, comics,
books, and posters. The guards looked the other way. From what I understand there was a near
riot when they tried to crack down on the cigarettes. Scott and I made a fortune in there. So I
got pretty popular and most people left me alone."
Hannibal had given a rueful chuckle at the image of the kid as a teenager with a racket. He
silently wondered if he had sold candy to the kids in elementary school too. The levity of the
moment disappeared with the ugly scowl that now marred the handsome features of the conman.
Face's voice trailed off at this point. At a loss for what to do with his hands he lit up another
cigarette. He was well buzzed from the liquor and nicotine but sitting still was a physical
impossibility at that moment.
Taking a deep breath. "There was this one guard though." Pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Hannibal, I don't think I can do this."
was practically despondent at the thought of sharing this "thing" as he had come to think of it. He
also didn't remember the last time his lieutenant couldn't look him in the eye. This is huge, he
thinks and has grown from concern to fear in his own mind. Now he had to know, for the sake of
their relationship and interaction with the team. Would Face ever look him in the eye again?
Could he ever trust his second in command completely and without reservation in the future?
Would this secret cast a pall over their relationship forever? Hannibal felt a chill sliver down his
spine at that thought. They were as close as any two men could be. Implicitly trusting in the
other man to be there no matter what. And there was no way Colonel John Smith was going to
let that go because of some demon haunting the kid's past. To back off would concede that.
Placing the dying cigar butt in the ashtray, Hannibal stretched his hand out to grip the side of
Peck's head, his fingers resting in the short hairs on his neck. He spoke quietly, when the young
man's eyes met his. "Face we've been through everything together in over fourteen years of
friendship. I would go through the very gates of hell to watch your back if you asked me to.
There is absolutely nothing you could tell me that would change how I feel about you. But
this...kid if we drop this, there will always be a barrier between us. It wouldn't be intentional. I
know that, but I'll always wonder if you've shared everything and you'll question whether you
really can tell me everything. I won't let that happen. I won't let there be these silences, these
doubts between us. Telling me may not change anything, but you don't have to go through it
alone. Please kid, believe in me, in us."
Face felt his mouth go dry. He could almost tangibly feel the intensity radiate from the man next
to him. Hannibal wasn't an emotional guy. Yeah, he often displayed anger, disgust, or a strange
sense of humor but this... Face knew his commander would go to the mat for his guys. His
reputation for protecting his men was legendary, but this was different. They had never had a
conversation about their friendship. Its nuances had always been understood or so Face thought.
To watch Hannibal view this secret as an affront to that relationship, and his subsequent reaction,
confounded the younger man. He did trust Hannibal with his life, but he evidently didn't fully
understand the reciprocal devotion the older man felt as well. Face wondered if the Earth had
flipped upside down or if he had never really considered Hannibal's viewpoint before.
He had been a well known troublemaker at the base in Vietnam. Liked by his fellow soldiers for
an uncanny ability to procure nearly anything, he was despised by his commander and most of the
other officers. His smartass mouth resulted in Colonel Bennington sending him on several
dangerous missions in the hope that the North Vietnamese would take care of the problem.
That's eventually how he had met Colonel John Smith. His unit was short a couple of men, who
were laid up in the base hospital. That didn't matter as he had a mission to complete and thus was
loaned some temps to finish the job. Face's CO was more than happy to foist the aggravating
Lieutenant Peck into Smith's custody. The kid had no concern for his own personal safety, but
had taken care of his platoon and displayed amazing skills at the point and with his sniper rifle.
Hannibal's interest had been peaked. Two days after returning to base he found a box of Cuban
cigars and a bottle of scotch along with a note thanking him for an unbelievable story to tell at a
bar someday. Hannibal immediately sought him out. The two shared the bottle, a couple of
cigars and a get acquainted dinner. The next day Face, as BA had christened him, was officially
transferred to Smith's unit.
Staring into Hannibal's eyes he saw the deep abiding affection war with genuine concern about
how this silence would affect their friendship. Swallowing, "I...I've never told another living soul
this. I don't know if I can." It was a last ditch plea. Desperate eyes searching for an escape from
the corner he felt trapped in.
Hannibal released his hold of Face's arm on the table bringing that hand up to gently run it
through Face's hair in what he hoped was a calming, affection laden motion. This had escalated
well beyond alarm. The kid needed to talk. There was no question of that, but he couldn't force
him and he didn't want to guilt him into it, which might make him resentful later. John felt
himself walking a fine line, where one misstep could ruin everything. "It's going to be okay.
Start at the beginning or wherever you're comfortable and we'll figure it out from there, alright?
You just remember that nothing is going to change between us. I promise."
Face dropped his head, searching the ground for the right words. Hannibal squeezed his neck, in
what he hoped was a reassuring manner, before dropping his hands and lighting another cigar. He
wanted to give the kid the space he needed, while the cigar would help center himself. Peck
didn't meet his gaze as he fumbled with the pack of cigarettes, taking a deep drag while lighting it.
They were silent as Face poured more scotch into each of their tumblers, swallowing another pull
himself before setting the glass back down. "I did six months at juvie hall when I was fifteen."
The quiet contemplative voice carried more than enough. He finally looked up to see Hannibal's
eyebrows reach for his hairline at that surprising admission. Considering the kid's skills and
behavior tonight he shouldn't have been shocked, but he was. There was an unspoken
encouragement to continue.
"I was what they like to label high risk at the orphanage. Nobody adopted teenagers who were
life long orphans. I was always getting into trouble of one kind or another: mouthing off, chasing
girls, breaking curfew. There was a group of us, four guys who had been in the orphanage for as
long as we could remember. I was going to public school at the time and we hung out with other
kids who didn't fit in. I had learned to pick locks and hot-wire a car during my freshman year. I
practiced those skills whenever I had a chance. I was also the only one who could pick a pocket,
so we could have money for lunch off campus instead of the lousy cafeteria. Brad was seventeen
and had a friend who worked at a liquor store. That day we left a car by the loading dock with
the keys under the front seat and walked around of couple of the shops nearby. Half an hour later
we came back to find the keys in the same place but with a couple cases of beer and a bottle of
whiskey in the trunk."
"It was Friday night and we went out to the beach here in Malibu. In fact it's just a couple miles
down the road and got roaringly drunk. I'd never had whiskey before. Brad and I shared the
bottle and I was plastered. The police pulled us over at about 2:30 that morning on the way back
to the orphanage. Honest to God Hannibal, I didn't know that the car was stolen. Mike said it
belonged to his friend, I had no reason not to believe him. I don't even remember all of the
charges. I just remember the day in court for our sentencing, after we had been found guilty.
Father Salvador told the judge that jail might help us to learn that there are consequences to
breaking the law and felt the discipline would be good for us. Bastard was happy to get rid of
us."
Shaking his head with a smirk that was more a grimace than a smile Face finished off the
cigarette, flicking the butt into a full ashtray. Hannibal didn't know what to say choosing instead
to remain silent in the hopes that Face would continue.
"Oh man, you wouldn't believe that place. The state had it to where thirteen to fifteen year olds
were together and the sixteen to eighteen year olds were separated into their own section. Ya
know, to protect the younger kids from getting beat up by the bigger ones? That was the state's
version of segregation. We had our own brand. White kids hung out with white kids. Blacks,
Hispanics, and even the Asians all had their own cliques. In the yard there was a definite color
barrier. Beneath that was gang affiliation. Bloods and the Crips were always fighting amongst
themselves in the black section. Same goes for the Diablos and the Kings between the Hispanics.
Nobody messed with the Asians, those kids were fierce. There were a couple of times when the
whole yard would erupt in a riot. Some white kid attacking a black or some Hispanic attacking a
white. Then everybody would get involved."
"First time I saw that was like my fifth day there. I decided that getting on the good side of the
leaders was a must. A friend of mine Scott was still on the outside. He's the one who taught me
how to hot-wire a car and I taught him how to pick a lock. We were tight and the only reason he
didn't get busted with us was because he was with his girl that night. So I set it up between him
and a guard to acquire things the other guys would want. For a fee the guard would look the
other way when the laundry truck had an extra box of stuff. Everyone wanted cigarettes, comics,
books, and posters. The guards looked the other way. From what I understand there was a near
riot when they tried to crack down on the cigarettes. Scott and I made a fortune in there. So I
got pretty popular and most people left me alone."
Hannibal had given a rueful chuckle at the image of the kid as a teenager with a racket. He
silently wondered if he had sold candy to the kids in elementary school too. The levity of the
moment disappeared with the ugly scowl that now marred the handsome features of the conman.
Face's voice trailed off at this point. At a loss for what to do with his hands he lit up another
cigarette. He was well buzzed from the liquor and nicotine but sitting still was a physical
impossibility at that moment.
Taking a deep breath. "There was this one guard though." Pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Hannibal, I don't think I can do this."
