Disclaimer: I don't own the real A-team but I put the models on my shelf next to my stereo and the blasted thing stopped working. The guy at the repair shop said it was almost as if someone had been removing parts for other projects? I didn't want to take any chances so the entire team is now securely blue-tacked to my shelf so there's no chance of escape! (If only Decker had had blue-tack) A true story for Hecate Triformis

Hey guys, I'm sorry for the oh so long wait. I absolutely hate it when people do that! I'm a bad bad person but I wont bore you with the details of my monotonous yet strangely busy life except to say a big thank you to all my reviewers. Your support means a lot. Oh, and I'll try to do better with Ch4 :)

Oh, and before I forget, there's some blood and a swear word! You've been warned

Armani Bandages

Face watched as the Sedan pulled up at the end of the long gravel driveway and the goons got out, dragging Amy with them. Even from where he was stopped Face could see her fight and kick at them but her struggles went unnoticed by the much larger men.

It had taken over two hours to reach the desolate house set in acres of woodland, the same woodland which was now hiding Face's stolen car from view at the end of the driveway. The house was old and large with a winding driveway and gardens surrounded by a high brick wall. Luckily the gates were ornamental cast iron which, though strong, also provided plenty of gaps to see through and whoever owned the property hadn't thought to place security this far out. Closer to the house security was another story entirely. In the brief time Face had been watching he had seen four men armed with automatic weapons each doing separate circuits of the house. One of them even had dogs with him.

Face slammed his fist against the steering wheel in frustration, he wanted nothing more than to bust in there right now and get Amy out but he knew he was well overdue for a check-in with the rest of the team and if something should happen to him no one would know where Amy was, not until her body turned up somewhere he thought morbidly. His only option was to phone the team and let them know what had happened and where Amy was being held, he'd seen too many missions go wrong and too many people killed through lack of information and he was damned if he'd let that happen to Amy.

Face slipped the car into gear, careful to leave the headlights switched off and not rev the engine before slowly driving away from the house back down the rough dirt track. He could only pray that Amy would be ok until he returned to get her out of there.

Once the house had completely disappeared into the trees behind Face risked the headlights and sped as fast as he dared down the roughly carved road to the highway. The car bounced over tree roots and rocks he wasn't quick enough to avoid, jarring his sore ribs mercilessly but he didn't allow the pain to distract him and kept both hands firmly on the wheel as he fought for control. Finally the trees began to thin and the track turned to gravel as it neared the highway. When he had followed the Sedan down the highway earlier a small part of Face's brain couldn't help but note how few other cars there were using it, which had made his job of following unnoticed all the more difficult, now, as Face swung the car onto the tarmac, it appeared completely deserted, he couldn't see a car in either direction, but that suited him just fine.

As soon as the car was speeding along the smooth surface towards the old Gas Station they had passed on the way Face allowed himself the liberty of removing his right hand from the wheel to cradle his aching side. The bleeding had appeared to stop earlier but all the bouncing around had pulled the long cut open again and Face grimaced as he felt the sticky blood seeping onto his hand. His thoughts were elsewhere though, not on his pain or his driving, not even on the rest of the team but on Amy. His entire being was focused on praying that his failure to protect her wouldn't cost her her life.

Face felt like he'd been driving for an eternity before the old gas station finally appeared. Whilst the pumps were still in use during the day the small diner attached to the side was boarded up and derelict and the entire place had an abandoned feel to it, but it did have a payphone on the wall just by the door to the outside washroom.

Face pulled the car into a dark corner on the same side of the empty lot as the payphone, avoiding the few dim lights around the pumps and waited for a minute before getting out of the car. Although every fiber of his being seemed to be screaming at him to hurry he knew how important appearances could be and nothing would draw the attention quite like a car screeching to a halt by the payphones and a panicked man rushing out to use them before speeding away again in a cloud of dust. No he had to play this just right, wait long enough so it didn't appear he was in a hurry but no so long it would cause suspicion, it also gave him some time to glance over the place, which was all to the good in Face's opinion. Even goons had to get their petrol from somewhere.

Luckily there didn't appear to be anyone around, though as Face knew from experience you could never tell who might be watching you from the shadows, and the illusion had to be maintained. Slowly and as casually as possible he opened the driver's door and got out of the car. Pain lanced through his side as his ribs screamed at him for the sudden change in position and he had to lean against the car as dizziness assaulted him and his vision swam. Only years of experience, years of hiding his pain, enabled him to keep from clutching at his chest and uphold a neutral expression.

After spending a couple of minutes pretending he was having trouble locking the drivers door the pain subsided to a more bearable level as his body got used to the new position and he casually jammed his left hand in his trouser pocket so he could keep his arm pressed against his aching ribs and to cover the hole in his shirt the bullet had torn. BA had laughed at him this morning when he had put on his "fancy" black shirt just to pick Amy up but Face had just ignored the other man, you never knew who you might meet at an airport. He'd never dreamed he'd be glad it didn't show bloodstains.

Face sauntered over to the payphones, eternally grateful for the roll of quarters he always carried in case of emergencies as well as various other monies secreted about his person, and leant on the wall next to the last of the three telephones, the only one that looked like it might still work. The short walk had taxed him far more than he was willing to admit but he didn't allow himself to think about it, he had more important things to think about.

He reached for the receiver and cursed softly when the dial tone was crackled and intermittent and glanced at the other two, the one directly next to him was covered in graffiti and looked as though someone had beaten it with a tire wrench until the quarters fell out but still looked better than the one furthest away which didn't even have a receiver anymore. He replaced his handset and reached for the one next to his grimacing when a blob of chewing gum stuck to his fingers though it was quickly forgotten when he heard a beautifully clear tone from the abused machine. With a bit of time he could probably have patched the other phone up so it worked, but it was time he'd rather not waste if he didn't have to. He quickly dialed the number of their current safe-house and waited impatiently for someone to answer with his quarter poised over the slot.

Finally a voice came through.

"Luigi's Pizzeria, tonight's special pepperoni thick crust with salad only…"

Face couldn't help but smile at Hannibal's beloved Italian accent as he let go of the quarter and heard it rattle into the bowels of the machine before interrupting the other man.

"Hannibal, it's Face."

"Lieutenant, where the hell have you been? Report!"

Face felt a wave of relief wash over him that it had been Hannibal to answer the phone, this way he could stick to the facts and wouldn't have to repeat himself. Hannibal had a kind of photographic memory when it came to listening to people, something that had landed Face in trouble on more than one occasion. BA would have been far too angry with him to listen to what he was saying, though Face knew it was a cover for his concern over everyone's wellbeing, and Murdock would been far too twitchy and acting like a giant mother hen which Face just couldn't cope with right now.

"Colonel I'm about 45 kilometers away from Blossom Farm in Greymist Woods at that old abandoned gas station that Murdock wanted to adopt. Amy's being held in a house about 30 kilometers due South from here, down a dirt track off the highway. I need you to come and pick us up after I get her out of there…"

"Hold on a minute Face." Hannibal's mind was reeling; someone had taken Amy? He'd been caught off guard by his own assumption, after all the times he'd warned the team how deadly they could be. "You're not going anywhere until I get the full story." He put a hand over the mouth piece and hollered into the room behind him, "BA, Murdock, get ready, we're moving out ASAP." then turned his attention back to Face. "Now Lieutenant, explain to me what's going on."

Face was torn, part of him was relieved that they were on their way but a bigger part of him despaired over the amount of time it would take to tell Hannibal what had happened, time that could better spent trying to rescue Amy.

"Hannibal there's no time, I've got to get her out of there!" he blurted it out before he could stop himself.

"Make time Lieutenant. There's no way I'm rushing in blind."

Even at this distance from the man Face winced as he imagined Hannibal glaring down the phone. It was no good arguing with him when he was in full blown Colonel mode, which happened every time he was worried or angry, not that anyone would tell him that, not if they wanted to see the sunrise ever again.

"There was a trap set in the airport parking lot. Amy and I managed to get to the car without any trouble but then this goon appeared and demanded Amy go with him. I'm sorry Colonel but I froze, I hadn't expected that, I…I assumed they were after me. I tried to drive my way out of there but more men appeared and they managed to shoot out one of my tires and I lost control of the car and crashed it into a wall. They bundled Amy into the back of a black Sedan before I could stop them so I stole a car and followed. This is the first chance I've had to phone in."

Face tried to keep his voice as unemotional as possible, to just tell Hannibal the facts and keep the enormous guilt he felt at failing Amy so badly locked inside, though he had to make sure the other man knew who was to blame.

"It's my fault Hannibal. If I hadn't assumed they were after me I wouldn't have wasted time being shocked and I could have got her out of there!"

"Hang on a minute Face, I think it was a valid assumption to make. We've been chased that many times that we're all a little paranoid and rightly so. Now you said shots were fired, were you or Amy hit?" Hannibal knew Face would be beating himself up over this. He'd always place the blame on anyone else for all the little things that went wrong but as soon as something serious happened he'd find a way to blame himself no matter the circumstances.

"I don't think Amy was hurt but they bundled her away so damn fast I can't be positive." Face's control broke slightly and his voice wavered as he spoke, he hadn't really thought that Amy could have been shot.

"What about you Face? Are you okay?"

The Colonel's tinny voice broke into his thoughts and he replied automatically. "What? Me, no I'm fine."

"Face." Hannibal's voice held more than an ounce of threat in it, enough to bring Face back to the present.

"Hannibal we don't have time for this, I need to get her out, what if she's hurt?" Hs voice wavered again as he became more and more agitated. He didn't know how he hadn't thought about this sooner; she could be dying whilst he was chatting to the Colonel, if she wasn't dead already that small part of his mind that refused to shut up added.

"Face, we're on our way now and you're not to do anything until we get there, understood?" Hannibal decided not to mention the blood he'd seen in the car until he could see Face's reaction face to face as it were. The kid wouldn't be able to hide it as well then as he could over the phone, not from him anyway, he'd had to learn the few "tells" the other man had quickly though he'd never told the others. Murdock didn't need to know anyway, he always seemed to know when Face was hiding something. Face would never admit being hurt, not like this and pushing him for an answer would only make him pull further away. Orders on the other hand should never have to be pushed.

"Lieutenant! Understood?" His voice was steely and hard even as he winced inside at what Face must be going through but he had to think of the whole team. They stood a far better chance of getting Amy out of there as a team and if the unthinkable had happened and Amy was dead, his mind wanted to shy away from the idea but he forced himself to think it through, then they would all be there to avenge her as a team and not just Face on a one man crusade. This whole situation reminded him of that terrible time in Chicago were Face had almost got himself killed. A memory Hannibal was determined not to relive.

"Yes Colonel, understood sir!"

Hannibal frowned at the barked reply so unlike Face's usual tone but ploughed on, convinced he was doing the right thing.

"We'll get her back."

"Yes sir!"

He sighed inwardly; to say that Face in soldier mood annoyed him would be a vast understatement. He opened his mouth to say something else, something that would get through to Face but could think of nothing that wouldn't sound like a platitude. Face knew the situation better than he did at the minute and every minute wasted here was time better spent on the road getting to Face's position.

"We won't be long kid, sit tight."

"Yes sir, will do!" Face replied in a monotone voice that he knew Hannibal loathed. The Colonel had never wanted them to be toy soldiers doing his every bidding without question or comment but he did expect obedience when an order was given unless there was a damn good reason, something that involved an act of God or an alien invasion, anything less than that and it would take an act of God to save you. Face couldn't help using the tone though, it was either that or start yelling down the phone, but that wouldn't do anyone any good, this wasn't anyone's fault but his own and the Colonel was right, they did stand a far better chance of getting her out of there as a team.

He suddenly realized he still had the receiver pressed to his ear and had been listening to the dial tone for a good few minutes whilst his brain ran in circles. He leant forward to replace the receiver whilst a small voice in his head asked what am I going to do now? Face hissed as the movement pulled his side and instinctively pressed a hand over the wound, grimacing at the feel of the cotton that had stiffened with his blood, blood that was still leaking from the reopened wound.

He glanced around and saw the door to the WC just to his right, if the door was unlocked he could try and clean himself up a bit before the rest of the team arrived, and if it was locked, well, he'd just have to unlock it, discreetly of course.

Face sauntered over to the door, careful not to hunch over his aching side, and twisted the handle, sighing with relief when it opened. He really didn't feel like picking a lock at the moment. Truth be told he was beginning to feel a little light headed. Now that he knew the rest of the team were on their way the adrenalin which had been keeping him going for so long seemed to be wearing off and every little ache and pain was beginning to let itself be known. He slipped into the dimly lit room; quickly checking it was empty, and slowly made his way over to the old sink unit. He hadn't felt this bad in quite a while.

The bare light bulb flickered uncertainly as Face leant against the wall with a sigh and turned on the tap, waiting until it ran hot before plugging the sink. The small room was dank and the cubicle door hung uneasily from one hinge to reveal a WC that had seen far better days. The window had been bricked in, probably when the diner had been built next door and the wires to the light bulb were tacked haphazardly to the walls and ceiling, a job never finished. Cracked wall tiles made sinister patterns in the gloom but if he was honest it appeared reasonably clean and he'd been in far worse places.

Still clutching his throbbing ribs with his right hand Face reached out with his left and wiped the steam from the mirror before wincing at the image revealed. Sweat drenched hair clung to a pale and equally sweaty forehead marred by a long cut above his eyebrow and various other scratches from when the car door was ripped off. A deep bruise was blossoming on his cheek bone courtesy of Bowl-head, as no doubt was the split lip he hadn't even noticed till now. His act outside to pretend everything was normal had been a complete and utter waster of time. One look at him and people would be calling the police.

Face shook his head ruefully then clutched at the sink unit as the movement made his head swim and leant back against the wall with his eyes closed until the feeling subsided. If Hannibal saw him now he'd never let Face join in the rescue. He'd squeeze him for information then order him to stay behind; a situation Face was not willing to accept. At least he had some time to try and sort himself out before they arrived; he just hoped Amy had the time to spare.

He unbuttoned his shirt and carefully shrugged out of it, wincing as the movement caused his various aches to renew their clamor for attention. And that was just the easy one, the ever so helpful voice announced. He still had to take off his tee-shirt, had to somehow pull it over his head without passing out. This was not going to be fun.

Carefully he wedged his back in the corner between the sink unit and the wall so that if he did start to feel faint at least he shouldn't crack his head open as he fell, and pulled the black cotton tee from where it was tucked in the waistband of his slacks. Not giving himself time to think he swiftly pulled the top over his head in one relatively smooth movement, unable to hold back a groan as his ribs seemed to grate against each other. He dropped the tee next to the sink and stood with his head bowed, shuddering as the cold night air assaulted him, waiting until the pain became bearable once more.

Long minutes passed until his body decided that passing out might not be the best course of action and the spinning sensation subsided once more as the fire in his side burnt down to a dull roar. Face slowly raised his head to stare into the mirror at the battered body that he could vaguely recognize as his from 24 hours ago.

His chest was covered in bruises. The steering wheel had left a long curved line that was slowly turning purple across the centre of his chest from where he had slammed into it. On either side there were less defined but equally painful bruises left by the goons when they had dragged him from the car. Face even thought he could see tread marks on one of them and peered into the mirror for a better look, almost chuckling when he thought a brand name or shoe size could be imprinted on his chest. A definite talking point for the ladies.

He ignored all of that as he finally took a good look at the wound the bullet had made in his side. He could do nothing about the bruises now anyway, rest was probably the best treatment for them but until Amy was safe he was not going to stop for anything.

The long jagged tear cut deeply into the flesh on top of his ribs in a diagonal line longer than his hand. The gunman must have been leaning out of the Sedan and aiming down at them in the much shorter Chevrolet as the wound was higher at the front of his chest than where it tailed off on his side. The whole area was red and angry looking and blood still oozed lazily from the deepest parts. Tentatively he touched the front most edge with his finger, biting back a gasp as even that small touch threatened to steal his breath away. How did he always manage to get himself in these situations.

Face picked up his tee shirt from where he had dropped it next to the sink and tore it into long strips before dropping them into the basin of hot water. Carefully and trying to bend as little as possible he began washing the strips as best he could before wringing them out and refilling the sink with clean water. He wedged himself back in the corner where he could easily reach the sink, grabbed one of the smaller strips and dunked it in the water, taking a deep breath to prepare himself for what was to come.

The feel of the wet cotton was agonizing against the jagged cut as he tried to clean it and a groan escaped his clenched teeth as he slowly began to wash the blood away. Face scowled at his reflection as fresh blood oozed from the open wound, brought on by his not so careful ministrations, if he was honest it probably needed stitches but he had neither the time nor the equipment to try that now, and it was hardly one of his favorite pastimes. But getting shot at is? That little voice was getting decidedly annoying.

He dropped the cloth back in the water and rinsed it out before continuing to clean the angry looking cut. He couldn't stitch it but he could tape it closed as a temporary measure as he'd had to do once or twice in the past, another fun experience he was only too glad to have to repeat. First he had to get it as clean as possible though every touch of the damp cloth caused bolts of pain to shoot through his chest. Finally he decided he'd had enough, either it was clean or it wasn't but he couldn't take anymore and collapsed back against the wall with trembling knees and hung his head, panting for breath. It was all he could do to remain upright.

Gradually the pain receded to a bearable level and he raised his head to stare at his reflection once more. He fumbled in his pocket for the roll of tough plastic tape he always carried with him; he must have used it a thousand times for hundreds of different things however he didn't think it had been created with amateur doctoring in mind. Then again, you never knew with these kinds of things and it worked reasonably well, despite the fact that it hurt like hell when you had to take it off. Grabbing some paper towels he carefully dried the skin around the wound, tore off a piece of tape and pinched the edges of the wound together. A moan escaped him as he placed the tape across the wound, pressing it onto the surrounding skin to ensure it stuck. Tearing off a new piece of tape, he wiped off the excess blood and repeated the procedure along the wound leaving a small area between each strip of tape to allow for movement and let the skin breathe. He'd found out the hard way that if you didn't you had to peel it all off and start again.

Not pausing he folded a couple of the strips into a rough pad and used the remaining pieces to hold it in place over the taped cut effectively binding a few of his sore ribs in the process. Then he stretched the tape around his chest on top of the cloth bindings to ensure everything would hold together and for some extra support. He almost laughed when he saw his handiwork in the mirror; he looked like an extra from one of Hannibal's worst films. At least now though he should be able to convince the Colonel he was ok, once he'd cleaned some of the blood off his face and put his shirt back on. Hopefully the team would be too distracted by rescuing Amy to worry about him.

Face picked up his former fancy black shirt and carefully pulled it on over his makeshift bandages. Part of him wished he could wash all the blood out of it, but he was already shivering from the cold and his jacket had been in the Chevrolet, wearing a wet shirt certainly wouldn't help matters.

Using the last scraps of cloth he leant forward to peer into the mirror once more and made an effort to look presentable. The Team needed to see him as the Face-man, he needed them to believe he was cool, calm, and completely in control, and the Face-man would never have blood smeared across his cheek or have his hair plastered to his forehead. He cleaned himself up as best he could, washing the blood off his face and smoothing his hair back into something resembling normality. There was no hiding he'd been roughed up but at least now he shouldn't cause too much alarm and should be able to present a façade of being ok.

Face checked his watch for the hundredth time. He knew they were coming as fast as they could but the waiting was killing him, he just hoped it wasn't killing Amy. The sound of an engine brought him out of his reverie and he glanced at his watch again; not even BA could have driven here that fast. Getting up from the wall where he was leant he made his way to the door and stopped with his hand inches from the handle as he heard voices outside. Unless Murdock and Hannibal were practicing their accents he was in serious trouble.

"…seen that car before!"

"Nah man, I'm telling you, Vauxhalls are popular over here. Anyway no one even knows we are here"

"Really? What about her boyfriend!"

"She said she just met him on the plane and he was giving her a lift."

"I suppose you could be right, besides, no one gets up from one of Raoul's punches. "

Face could almost hear the other man roll his eyes.

"Whatever man. I've gotta take a leak."

Face stepped back from the door, cursing under his breath when he realized he'd backed himself into a corner. There was no where to go and no where to hide. He had to think of something and quick. He took a deep breath and ran through his options, ever aware of the approaching footsteps. There was no lock on this side of the door and no way to wedge it shut, the cubicle was falling apart and likely where the man was headed anyway, the window was bricked shut and there were absolutely no convenient hatches or air conditioning vents. The only thing he could think of was a long shot at best, and possibly deadly for both him and Amy if it went wrong.

"Jay…?"

The footsteps stopped as the goon paused to talk to his partner and Face sprang into action. He silently ran over to the still full sink and turned the taps on so that it began to overflow, then adjusted the old mirror so that it reflected the door from inside the cubicle all the while straining to keep an ear on the conversation outside.

"What now Raoul?" Jay's exasperation was clear even through the door.

"The bonnet on this car, it is warm!"

Face turned off the light and stood in the ever growing puddle to reach the light bulb, groaning quietly as the movement pulled against his aching side. Removing the bulb he grabbed the socket and pulled it and the wire from where they had been loosely attached to the ceiling, silently cursing at the small popping sounds of the clips coming free.

"The car that has probably been stood in the sun all day?"

"But it is winter!"

"Raoul, the sun still shines in winter. Now I'm going to the john and I don't want to hear another word from you until I'm done."

Quickly Face wrenched the cable from the plastic socket in his hand revealing the bare wire that had made the connection, jumped up to balance on the toilet just out of sight of the entrance and threw the wires into the puddle just as the door began to open. He crouched there, trying to breathe quietly through the pain that shot up and down his side from his sudden movements, hoping against hope that it would work.

"Aw man!"

"Jay? You ok?" Raoul shouted from outside.

"Yeah, some a-hole left the sink over running; I'll be out in a minute."

Face couldn't help but hold his breath as he watched the backlit silhouette of the man reach for the light switch in the old mirror. There was absolutely no back up plan if this didn't work and there were just too many things that could go wrong.

Just as the switched clicked into place their eyes met in the mirror.

"What the…" the sentence trailed off into a deep gurgling sound as his body went rigid then spasmed uncontrollably before the light short circuited and all power was lost. Face watched in the reflection as even the outside lights flickered before going out completely as the goon slumped to the ground.

"Jay!"

Face silently lowered himself to the floor behind the cubicle door, sending up an entreaty that this part of the plan would work out as well as the other had. As soon as he heard Raoul rush into the room he tried to judge when the goon would reach the cubicle and kicked the wobbling door as hard as he could into the other man.

Face crashed to the floor as the goon did the same on the other side of the precariously swaying door. He hadn't been prepared for the agony the move would cause, stealing his breath away and making his knees buckle. Pain flowed in waves across his chest making him feel nauseous as he pressed his arm against his side trying to ease the pain and gasping for air. Slowly he became aware of a groaning noise from behind the door and realized that Raoul must still be conscious.

Leaning against the wall and still cradling his agonizing ribs Face managed to lever himself to his feet once more. He stifled a groan as his senses were almost overloaded with the pain and somehow managed to shuffle into the main room. There, lying on his side, moaning and clutching at his bloodied face lay Raoul, better known as Bowl Head.

Staggering towards the fallen man Face felt a wave of anger wash over him. These were the men who had stopped him from helping Amy. The men who had threatened her with a gun. The men who had taken her away to who knows what fate. He knew it was irrational to hold the goons responsible but as he knelt down next to the prone body his pain was forgotten as he drew all his anger into a solid punch to the mans jaw that knocked him senseless.

"No one gets up from one of Templeton Peck's punches Shithead"

The goon had been so wrapped up in his broken nose hadn't even had chance to react.

Face slumped back against the wall, holding his side once more as the anger receded and the pain returned. Softly he cursed under his breath. The goons showing up had changed everything. If they were expected back at the house then Amy could be in even worse trouble when they didn't show up.

He closed his eyes as he rested his head back against the cool tiles and sent up a brief prayer that she was still alive, not even noticing as his clothes began to soak up the water from the still overflowing sink. Somehow he was going to have to get her out of there before the goons were missed and that meant leaving now.

Hannibal was not going to be happy.

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Such a long wait and that's all you get :( Thanks if you ploughed your way through, what can I say except I'll try and do better in the future both time and content wise.