President Day
The young man didn't immediately look up when he finished his story. Staring at his hands seemed far more appealing than watching fifteen years of friendship disintegrate because of one ugly moment: kill or be killed. The silence seemed to stretch on forever, but eventually became too much for Face to ignore. Across the room Hannibal had slumped into a chair at some point. Face couldn't remember him ever looking so old or defeated before.
"Why?" The question seemed all Hannibal could manage and maybe that one word articulated the colonel's thoughts and feelings better than any string of questions could have.
Face caught his eyes and held them as his answers spilled forth. "Why did I kill them? Why didn't I tell you? Why didn't I wait and see what would happen? Why did you trade yourself for me? Why!?!" Tem blew a breath between his cheeks and began to pace.
"I saw the look in his eyes Hannibal. The second I put down my guns we were dead. He would have killed both of us and then waited for BA and Murdock to come running, probably killing them as well. That wasn't a choice. Did you just expect me to stand there and watch him beat you? I remember the camps Hannibal. All I've got to do is think about it for a second and I can see those bastards beating on you guys...on me. I swore to myself when we got out of there that I would never stand by and watch one of you tortured again. Because that's what he was doing, that sick fuck enjoyed it, enjoyed watching my reaction to it. You were in that situation because I screwed up and got kidnaped that morning. So I had three seconds to decide what to do. Stand there and get both of us killed or shoot them."
Adamantly, he swung around and pointed at the surprised man. "Tommy Johnston was slime and the world is a better place without him and a choice between you and him isn't a choice at all. I knew this moment was coming. I tried to put it off as long as possible. I didn't want you to look at me like that. I didn't want to see the disapproval, the disappointment in your eyes." Shrugging his shoulders, "but at least you're alive to be let down."
The younger man seemed to run out of words then as he walked back to the bar that separated the kitchen from the living room. He poured himself a generous measure of Glenlivet, swallowing half of it before crossing to the hallway and entering his room. Hannibal was still in the chair the heels of his palms rubbing across his eyes trying to make sense of everything he'd heard.
Tommy was dead. John didn't particularly care about that. Face was right, he was slime and probably got a better death than he deserved. The problem wasn't that. It was that Face killed him and then lied about it because of him. This wasn't what they did, it wasn't what the A-Team was supposed to represent. They weren't murderers and they didn't dole out punishments, they left that for the law. John almost laughed at that. While they didn't do anything wrong in Vietnam the team had broken more than a few laws while helping those who couldn't help themselves. Firing automatic assault rifles in the city, destruction of property, and resisting arrest hardly compared with this though. Face killed two men, now what the hell was he supposed to do. Think John, go in there and say something to him.
Wearily, Hannibal arose from his chair and hobbled down the hallway to Face's room, what he saw made his breath catch. Face had two suitcases out and was neatly folding clothes into one of them. Half of his closet seemed to be already missing.
"What do you think you're doing?" John barked, startled and more than a bit angry.
Face was grateful his back was to the colonel, he didn't think the sardonic look that must have crossed his face would be appreciated right now. He waited several beats before sarcastically replying, "packing."
The snide response pissed Hannibal off even further. The last two days had evaporated his patience. "What the hell for? You don't seriously think you're going to leave do you?"
That actually had Face chuckling as he turned around to look at the older man. As though he were explaining the most obvious thing in the world, "Come on Hannibal. This was bound to happen. Hell, I'm surprised it took this long, although I didn't imagine it happening quite this way. I'm everything anyone's ever said about me. A conman, a thief...a murderer. You'd probably let that go though. I have no doubt that you're somehow spinning this all in your head and thinking that in some bizarre way you're to blame. It's not true, but you won't listen to me, not about this. The problem remains though. You're going to ask me for a promise I can't give you. A guarantee I can't, I won't make."
Dumbfounded and more than a little hurt, "So you're just going to pack your things and walk. After fifteen years, thanks for nothing Hannibal, and just walk away. You actually think I'm going to let you do that? You're damn right I'm not happy. God knows if I could somehow go back and redo that whole day over again I would, but nothing will bring back Tommy Johnston and you leaving the team isn't a solution."
Face can feel his control slipping through his fingers, he's almost yelling at this point. "This was a clusterfuck from the word go. I screwed up Hannibal. You were tortured...beaten into unconsciousness. Two men are dead...and you expect me to stick around and maybe next time get you killed."
Hannibal can feel a headache coming on as he pinches his eyes closed for just a second, trying desperately to come up with the right words here. Dubiously, "Do you honestly think that I'll somehow be safer without you there to back me up, to procure things for the team, and to make sure I don't get to carried away on the jazz? You can't be serious. For fifteen years you've watched my back and kept me from going over the edge. You've saved my life more than a few times kid. You're not a liability. Not to me. So what's this really about?"
Incensed that he has to spell this out. Didn't he realize what he was doing and why? "I'm a fuckup Hannibal. A selfish conman who uses people to get what I want and then dumps them by the wayside. When we first met in Vietnam I couldn't figure out why you wanted me for the team. I had a record longer than your arm. Every CO in the theater had dumped me or tried to. I was one arrest away from ending up court-martialled and in the brig for ten years. I tried my damnedest to get you to let me go, but you doggedly held on, and every time I pushed you pulled me further in. Eventually I just gave up, thinking that you'd figure out what everyone else already knew. It finally happened and you can't ignore it. Unfortunately you seem unable to make this decision yourself, so I'll have to make the choice for you."
He knew the kid was by far his own worst critic but he never imagined the wellspring of self-loathing that lurked beneath the surface. "Are you listening to yourself? Have you always had this self-flagellation thing going on? You can't honestly stand there and tell me that you have no idea why I wanted you on the team. Why I still want you. Back then I needed a supply officer. You were a little unorthodox but you got everything we needed and then some. You're also one of the best I've ever seen with that sniper rifle, not to mention you're pretty good on point. You followed my orders, but you could also think on your feet. Of course I wanted you. We were the best damn A-Team in that whole theater. We were the ones they sent in to do the impossible and we came back every time. A lot of those kids made it back because of you."
More than ever John wondered about the kid's childhood. Could he just not connect the dots and see how he and the others felt? Maybe telling him will get some of these messed up ideas out of his head. "The surroundings have changed. The circumstances are vastly different, but I still need you. We're not the A-Team without you. I don't know where you got this idea in your head. There has never been a time and there never will be a time when I want to dump you. But this isn't about what skill set you bring to the table. Are you really standing there telling me you don't know how I feel about you? I didn't know I had to say it or I would have told you years ago. I just assumed you realized what you mean to me...to BA and Murdock. We're more than three criminals, and a crazy pilot on the run. We're a family, strange though it is. I love you, you idiot. What more is there to say than that?"
Exasperated, he hopes he drives the final nail home. "Did things fall apart in that house? Yes. I don't know if there was some other way to resolve that situation without one or both of us getting killed. I don't like how it turned out and I'll do my damnedest to try and prevent another scenario like it in the future, but I still trust your judgement. You're telling me there was no other way and I believe you. So you listen to me Lieutenant, I decide the composition of this unit and no one gets to leave without my permission. Your desertion is unacceptable. Do you understand me?"
When Face just looked at him, Hannibal got right up in his face and yelled. "I said do you understand me son?"
Face snapped to attention, yelling, "Sir, yes sir."
Nodding, Hannibal reached out and put his hand on Face's shoulder. "Good. I do need one promise from you, though not the one you think. Promise me kid that one day I won't wake up and you'll be gone. If we need to talk about this some more we will, but there's no leaving. Promise me that."
Face just kind of stared at him for a second. There were so many things to digest from this conversation, to ruminate on later, but Hannibal's looking at him expectantly. "Yeah Hannibal, that I can promise."
The young man didn't immediately look up when he finished his story. Staring at his hands seemed far more appealing than watching fifteen years of friendship disintegrate because of one ugly moment: kill or be killed. The silence seemed to stretch on forever, but eventually became too much for Face to ignore. Across the room Hannibal had slumped into a chair at some point. Face couldn't remember him ever looking so old or defeated before.
"Why?" The question seemed all Hannibal could manage and maybe that one word articulated the colonel's thoughts and feelings better than any string of questions could have.
Face caught his eyes and held them as his answers spilled forth. "Why did I kill them? Why didn't I tell you? Why didn't I wait and see what would happen? Why did you trade yourself for me? Why!?!" Tem blew a breath between his cheeks and began to pace.
"I saw the look in his eyes Hannibal. The second I put down my guns we were dead. He would have killed both of us and then waited for BA and Murdock to come running, probably killing them as well. That wasn't a choice. Did you just expect me to stand there and watch him beat you? I remember the camps Hannibal. All I've got to do is think about it for a second and I can see those bastards beating on you guys...on me. I swore to myself when we got out of there that I would never stand by and watch one of you tortured again. Because that's what he was doing, that sick fuck enjoyed it, enjoyed watching my reaction to it. You were in that situation because I screwed up and got kidnaped that morning. So I had three seconds to decide what to do. Stand there and get both of us killed or shoot them."
Adamantly, he swung around and pointed at the surprised man. "Tommy Johnston was slime and the world is a better place without him and a choice between you and him isn't a choice at all. I knew this moment was coming. I tried to put it off as long as possible. I didn't want you to look at me like that. I didn't want to see the disapproval, the disappointment in your eyes." Shrugging his shoulders, "but at least you're alive to be let down."
The younger man seemed to run out of words then as he walked back to the bar that separated the kitchen from the living room. He poured himself a generous measure of Glenlivet, swallowing half of it before crossing to the hallway and entering his room. Hannibal was still in the chair the heels of his palms rubbing across his eyes trying to make sense of everything he'd heard.
Tommy was dead. John didn't particularly care about that. Face was right, he was slime and probably got a better death than he deserved. The problem wasn't that. It was that Face killed him and then lied about it because of him. This wasn't what they did, it wasn't what the A-Team was supposed to represent. They weren't murderers and they didn't dole out punishments, they left that for the law. John almost laughed at that. While they didn't do anything wrong in Vietnam the team had broken more than a few laws while helping those who couldn't help themselves. Firing automatic assault rifles in the city, destruction of property, and resisting arrest hardly compared with this though. Face killed two men, now what the hell was he supposed to do. Think John, go in there and say something to him.
Wearily, Hannibal arose from his chair and hobbled down the hallway to Face's room, what he saw made his breath catch. Face had two suitcases out and was neatly folding clothes into one of them. Half of his closet seemed to be already missing.
"What do you think you're doing?" John barked, startled and more than a bit angry.
Face was grateful his back was to the colonel, he didn't think the sardonic look that must have crossed his face would be appreciated right now. He waited several beats before sarcastically replying, "packing."
The snide response pissed Hannibal off even further. The last two days had evaporated his patience. "What the hell for? You don't seriously think you're going to leave do you?"
That actually had Face chuckling as he turned around to look at the older man. As though he were explaining the most obvious thing in the world, "Come on Hannibal. This was bound to happen. Hell, I'm surprised it took this long, although I didn't imagine it happening quite this way. I'm everything anyone's ever said about me. A conman, a thief...a murderer. You'd probably let that go though. I have no doubt that you're somehow spinning this all in your head and thinking that in some bizarre way you're to blame. It's not true, but you won't listen to me, not about this. The problem remains though. You're going to ask me for a promise I can't give you. A guarantee I can't, I won't make."
Dumbfounded and more than a little hurt, "So you're just going to pack your things and walk. After fifteen years, thanks for nothing Hannibal, and just walk away. You actually think I'm going to let you do that? You're damn right I'm not happy. God knows if I could somehow go back and redo that whole day over again I would, but nothing will bring back Tommy Johnston and you leaving the team isn't a solution."
Face can feel his control slipping through his fingers, he's almost yelling at this point. "This was a clusterfuck from the word go. I screwed up Hannibal. You were tortured...beaten into unconsciousness. Two men are dead...and you expect me to stick around and maybe next time get you killed."
Hannibal can feel a headache coming on as he pinches his eyes closed for just a second, trying desperately to come up with the right words here. Dubiously, "Do you honestly think that I'll somehow be safer without you there to back me up, to procure things for the team, and to make sure I don't get to carried away on the jazz? You can't be serious. For fifteen years you've watched my back and kept me from going over the edge. You've saved my life more than a few times kid. You're not a liability. Not to me. So what's this really about?"
Incensed that he has to spell this out. Didn't he realize what he was doing and why? "I'm a fuckup Hannibal. A selfish conman who uses people to get what I want and then dumps them by the wayside. When we first met in Vietnam I couldn't figure out why you wanted me for the team. I had a record longer than your arm. Every CO in the theater had dumped me or tried to. I was one arrest away from ending up court-martialled and in the brig for ten years. I tried my damnedest to get you to let me go, but you doggedly held on, and every time I pushed you pulled me further in. Eventually I just gave up, thinking that you'd figure out what everyone else already knew. It finally happened and you can't ignore it. Unfortunately you seem unable to make this decision yourself, so I'll have to make the choice for you."
He knew the kid was by far his own worst critic but he never imagined the wellspring of self-loathing that lurked beneath the surface. "Are you listening to yourself? Have you always had this self-flagellation thing going on? You can't honestly stand there and tell me that you have no idea why I wanted you on the team. Why I still want you. Back then I needed a supply officer. You were a little unorthodox but you got everything we needed and then some. You're also one of the best I've ever seen with that sniper rifle, not to mention you're pretty good on point. You followed my orders, but you could also think on your feet. Of course I wanted you. We were the best damn A-Team in that whole theater. We were the ones they sent in to do the impossible and we came back every time. A lot of those kids made it back because of you."
More than ever John wondered about the kid's childhood. Could he just not connect the dots and see how he and the others felt? Maybe telling him will get some of these messed up ideas out of his head. "The surroundings have changed. The circumstances are vastly different, but I still need you. We're not the A-Team without you. I don't know where you got this idea in your head. There has never been a time and there never will be a time when I want to dump you. But this isn't about what skill set you bring to the table. Are you really standing there telling me you don't know how I feel about you? I didn't know I had to say it or I would have told you years ago. I just assumed you realized what you mean to me...to BA and Murdock. We're more than three criminals, and a crazy pilot on the run. We're a family, strange though it is. I love you, you idiot. What more is there to say than that?"
Exasperated, he hopes he drives the final nail home. "Did things fall apart in that house? Yes. I don't know if there was some other way to resolve that situation without one or both of us getting killed. I don't like how it turned out and I'll do my damnedest to try and prevent another scenario like it in the future, but I still trust your judgement. You're telling me there was no other way and I believe you. So you listen to me Lieutenant, I decide the composition of this unit and no one gets to leave without my permission. Your desertion is unacceptable. Do you understand me?"
When Face just looked at him, Hannibal got right up in his face and yelled. "I said do you understand me son?"
Face snapped to attention, yelling, "Sir, yes sir."
Nodding, Hannibal reached out and put his hand on Face's shoulder. "Good. I do need one promise from you, though not the one you think. Promise me kid that one day I won't wake up and you'll be gone. If we need to talk about this some more we will, but there's no leaving. Promise me that."
Face just kind of stared at him for a second. There were so many things to digest from this conversation, to ruminate on later, but Hannibal's looking at him expectantly. "Yeah Hannibal, that I can promise."