Warnings/Content: Contains male/male SLASH. Also some full-bodied soldier type language. Adult themes are discussed here and relationships between men. If you don't like the thought of it please do not read. I do not wish to offend.

Part Three

Clutching the bottle of whiskey tightly to his chest Face stumbled forwards and allowed himself to tumble onto the softness of his bed; as he did so he finally allowed the pain that had been threatening to overwhelm him to take control completely. He groaned.

Drawing a deep breath he tried to concentrate on the bottle before him but he knew there was no way he had the strength to get it open. Groaning again he ran his free hand over his body carefully to examine the damage that had been done – aching ribs, bruised stomach, black eye, split lip …. the familiar results following a beating! Since he made it back to his apartment he had managed to gulp down a painkiller and now he lay completely still wanting it to take effect.

But his mind buzzed madly – it had been a strange day! After leaving Amy at the care home, he had made his way to the local drug store, bought the bottle of whiskey, fully intending to go home and drink himself into oblivion as he had done in the past when the pain was too intense to endure. But things had not quite turned out that way.

As he crossed the street he had noted an ATM and decided on a whim to check his balance. He had always been guarded with his money and even though he crucified himself over bankrupting the A Team he still had a good head for figures and kept a close note of what he should have. He was shocked to see that his estimate of what was in his account was way out – amazingly there was some five grand more than the couple of dollars he knew should be there.

Five thousand dollars! There was obviously some mistake – somewhere along the line an incorrect figure had been punched into an indifferent computer. He thought about going to the bank and enquiring but the pull of the liquor he had left in his car was stronger. So he figured that the bank could discover its own mistake without him troubling to tip them off. He would leave it for now, maybe check back at the end of the week to ensure it was rectified.

He turned back toward his car and that was when the attackers struck. A hand came over his shoulder from behind and Peck was aware of movement to his side. It had been a long time since he had been in this position but Face's body had been so used to such a reception that he did not need to think, he simply reacted. He banged his elbow into the man behind him's gut and turned to the guy at his side.

He was a huge fat man who looked like he had just finished working off his excess weight at the gym; the sun glistened off the rancid sweat beading down his bald head. Face looked up into piggy, squint eyes and knew he would find no mercy here. He punched out hard and the fight was joined.

Peck was quicker and more skilled than the muscle before him and he gave as good as he got. His attackers appeared to be unaware of his past, and were expecting an easy target. When it became obvious he was not, their courage crumbled like the donuts they had savaged at breakfast and they turned and fled leaving the essence of sweat lingering sickly on the air.

Face found himself kneeling, bleeding in the gutter as adrenaline thrummed around his body causing a strange and surprising thrill to invigorate him briefly. Then he tried to stand up and the pain roared through him. He spat out blood, wiping his face on his sleeve and forcing his legs to take his weight.

"You OK, pal?"

Peck nodded, flushing at the attention and pushed through the little crowd that seemed to have developed around him once the imminent threat of danger had rolled off. Painfully he forced his back straight, pushing away the pain and made his way awkwardly to his car.

He had driven home carefully as his vision was blurred and his head throbbed. Then it had taken him an excruciatingly long time to make it up the stairs and into his apartment. After fumbling in the kitchen for a pill, there was little wonder he collapsed on to the bed. And now he found he could not move at all.

His head was thumping worse and his alarm bells were ringing; he was missing something important, he needed to think but it hurt too much. Those muggers were not normal, were they connected with the five grand? Would they be back? Did they know where he lived?

The black fog was gradually overtaking his mind, seeping into his consciousness. His hand feebly let go of the whiskey bottle and it rolled off the bed to drop with a dull clunk on to the floor. Face groaned. If he just shut his eyes for a moment ……

"Face!" Murdock shouted as he banged on the door, less gently than he had done the previous time. He had a key to his friend's apartment but it had been a long time since he had visited and he felt strangely uncomfortable about letting himself in unannounced.

However when it became obvious that the door was not going to open without his further intervention, he took his keys out of his pocket and sorted through them until he found the one he wanted.

He was slightly worried about Face. He had spent most of the day at Hannibal's care home as he had promised Amy waiting for Peck to show. Although Hannibal had complained about his lieutenant's unreliability, when Murdock checked with the nursing staff he was told that it was most unusual for Mr Peck not to turn up, in fact they could not remember a day when he had not been there.

Murdock had decided to drop by Face's place to check that he was OK. He had noted Face's car parked a little haphazardly outside and made his way upstairs. Now with no answer Murdock wondered if Face had listened to Amy after all and had decided to take the day off – Christ knew he deserved it!

He let himself in quietly, still feeling uneasy. "Face," he called. Then he hesitated as his eyes darted around the basic accommodation. Truth was he had stopped coming around because he hated it here. He hated the squalid homeliness and normalcy of the place especially when he remembered that the man capable of scamming palaces in his past had resorted to living like this and was paying for the privilege! Murdock could not square the concept, his Faceman, the man he had loved for years was so much better than this. Just the thought depressed Murdock no end.

The living area was empty and the kitchen also. The pilot moved forwards, his mind absently noting how neat and tidy everything was. As he moved he caught sight of a pair of shoes resting on the bed.

"Face!" he called. There was a groan and the shoes moved a little. "Face!" Murdock was across the tiny living room and into the bedroom. He swore under his breath when he saw the state of the man the shoes belonged to. "What the hell happened?"

Face groaned and tried to sit up but pain flashed through him. Murdock knelt beside the bed. "Face!" he pressed anxiously.

"Murdock?" Face sighed weakly.

"Stay still," Murdock ordered as he shifted into medical technician role, running his hands carefully over Peck's battered body to take account of his injuries. "What happened?"

Face snorted. "Mugged," he managed to get out before his body spasmed as Murdock touched his ribs. "Awwwh!"

"Mugged?" Murdock repeated suspiciously. "You?"

Face tried to sit up again, this time he ignored the pain and forced himself forward. "Easy," Murdock helped him. "Let me get you sorted."

"I'm OK."

"No you're not. Now just sit still while I get the med kit." He hesitated at the door. "You got one?"

"Under the sink," Face replied through gritted teeth. He rubbed his hand over his face, noting the swelling around his left eye, he realised why he was having difficulty keeping the world in focus. His head was thumping and he felt suddenly nauseous.

"How long have you been out?" Murdock asked as he set about cleaning Face's wounds.

"I don't know, I've been out remember!" Peck snapped, followed by another "Aaahhh!" as he flinched again.

"Sorry," Murdock muttered. They were silent for a while as the pilot finished his work. "I think you'll live but you have to be the worst patient ever, Face!"

Peck groaned.

"So what did they get?" Murdock asked as he packed away the medical kit.

"Who?"

"Who? The muggers, of course!"

"Oh, nothing. I fought them off."

"Nothing. You fought them off?"

Peck snorted. "Is there a parrot in here?"

Murdock batted his eyelids. "My hero!"

Face snorted again. "Is there something that you want?" he asked impatiently.

"Did you hit your thick head hard in the fight?"

"No, why?"

"'Cos you sure sound like its mighty sore!"

Face looked as if he was about to argue but then his features crumpled. "I'm sorry," he relaxed a little. "I just …." he stopped.

Murdock stared at him worriedly. "Yes?" he prompted.

But Peck had remembered his visit to the ATM the day before. His eyes narrowed. "Murdock," he began, unaware that he had failed to finish his last sentence. "You haven't given me anything lately have you?"

"Given you something?" Murdock repeated nonplussed. "Like what?"

"Well, your business is going good, yes?" Murdock nodded. "So you hadn't thought to give me anything in recompense me for helping you?"

"Like what?" Murdock repeated.

"Well anything…?" Peck held the other man's glare expectantly

Murdock let out a long concerned sigh. "Face, what are you talking about?"

Peck was getting exasperated. He did not want to mention the money and he had hoped that he would not need to. From the bewildered expression on the pilot's face he had no idea what Face was talking about and he was getting increasingly worried about his friend. Peck considered telling him what was going on but something stopped him. Maybe he had got it all wrong, was he overreacting? Suddenly he knew he had to check.

"Murdock, will you do me a favour?" he asked. Murdock nodded. "I'm not seeing too good. Will you give me a ride?"

"A ride?

"Yeah. I need to go to an ATM."

"Face, I got cash. How much do you need?"

"I don't want your money, HM. I need to go to an ATM."

Murdock's eyes narrowed. "Face do you want to tell me what is going on? You're acting mighty strange." He remembered Amy's assessment that Peck was close to the edge and felt instantly guilty. Had he really allowed his friend to get into this state and not seen it coming?

Painfully Peck pulled himself off the bed. "I need to clean up," he said. "And to change. Wait for me."

Murdock nodded bemused and worried by this strange behaviour. He did not understand but he promised himself he was going to get to the bottom of this and if Faceman had to get to an ATM, even when he should be sleeping off his concussion, so be it!

Half an hour later, Murdock was not so sure. He glanced at Face beside him in the car. He was holding himself together only by the force of his will and Murdock could sense the effort it was taking his friend.

"You OK?" he asked.

"Fine," Peck snapped back too quickly. His face where it was not bruised and cut was deathly pale. "Stop here," he said.

"Face, I'll…" Murdock tried again.

"I'll be back in a minute," Face ignored him and stepped stiffly out of the car. He made his way to the ATM, Murdock watching him closely; knowing from the tautness of his body that Face was hurting bad, wanting to go across and help him but knowing that that was the worst thing he could do in the circumstances as Face would simply close himself off.

Face inserted his card and clicked in the number. Pressing the button to request a balance enquiry, he felt sure that he would see the mistake had been rectified or even that he had imagined it in the first place! His body was aching and he wanted nothing more than to succumb to the darkness that hovered at the edges of his consciousness. He steadied himself by reaching out a hand to grasp the wall as the machine clicked busily in front of him.

Numbers flashed up on to the screen. Ignoring the flash of nausea that rushed up from his gut, he forced his eyes to concentrate on the figures, to squeeze them down from the jumping, moving shadows into clear, distinct digits. He let out a long breath as he finally deciphered the information. His legs felt weak and he only remained standing by leaning forward and resting his head next to his hands on the wall.

He had been mistaken; there was not an unaccounted for five grand in his account, not now anyway….

…………Now there was an extra ten thousand dollars!

TBC