CHAPTER FIFTEEN

New York City

February 6, 1972

They'd left the "borrowed" car on the street in Manhattan three days ago. They hadn't been back to it since. Face had somehow managed to get them a room in Flushing, Queens, through the end of the week. Neither BA nor Hannibal knew or cared to know how he'd pulled it off with only fifteen dollars to his name. They'd used that fifteen dollars since then to buy bread, peanut butter, and jelly. They'd eaten nothing else for three days, and BA was beginning to crave hot food in a way he'd never done before. Even in Vietnam, with C-rations and fire-cooked meals, he'd never wanted his mother's cooking quite as badly as he did right now.

"So what do we do now, Hannibal?" Face asked, lying on his back on the motel room bed, arms under his head. BA glanced at him, then closed his eyes again, leaning on the side of the chair he'd pulled to the window so that he could look out onto the walkway. "Are we just going to hang out in New York for the rest of our lives eating peanut butter and jelly?"

BA scowled at the idea. "Man, you can eat mine too. I'm sick of peanut butter and jelly!"

Hannibal remained silent for a moment, sitting on the edge of the second bed and cleaning his rifle. "We probably have a better chance of evading capture if we split up," he finally said.

The weight of those words pressed down hard on BA's shoulders. Was he serious? After all they'd been through, he wanted to split them up?

"By now, the Army probably has every available MP this side of the Mississippi on alert," Hannibal continued. "They'll notify the local authorities, too. The three of us together will stand out in a crowd more than any one of us alone."

Shaking his head, BA looked away. He had no comeback, no better idea. But whatever the best plan was right now, that sure wasn't it. He glanced at Face for confirmation, but there was no glare or shock from him. Still lying on his back, he simply stared up at the ceiling blankly. "Where are we supposed to go?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know." Hannibal was silent for a moment. "You said something about Las Vegas once. It's as good a place as any to get lost."

Blinking in frank shock at the lack of protest from Face, BA took a moment to pull himself together and kept wisely silent as Face turned his head to look at Hannibal. But instead of a better suggestion, Face only offered a resigned, "Where will you go?"

BA didn't hear the answer. As he turned and looked back out the window, he found himself lost in his own thoughts. He knew he could always go back home. He'd be welcomed with open arms in his mother's house. But it would also put her in danger. Not to mention, it would probably be the first place the police would look for him. He couldn't do that. He wasn't sure where he would go.

"BA?"

He glanced at Hannibal, startled out of his trance. "Huh?"

"Did you hear me?"

"No. What?"

"I asked if you knew anyone that could loan you some money," Hannibal repeated. "So that you could get on your feet. Here or somewhere else."

"Oh." Momma would do that. And it wouldn't put her in near as much danger as if he showed up on her doorstep. "Yeah, prob'ly."

"Face?"

Face shrugged. "Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself."

The silence that fell on the room was eerie. After several long moments, Face stood up. The bed creaked as his weight shifted off of it, and he headed for the door, stepping quietly into the ice-cold night outside. Before the conversation had even begun, it was ended.

Vietnam

September 3, 1968

"You're sure about this?"

Face's jaw was tight, eyes fixed on a spot on the corner of the desk. With Hannibal a half step behind him and General Westman on the other side of the desk, he was the center of attention.

"I'm not sure about anything, sir," Face said flatly, with forced respect only as substantial as the air the words were spoken into. "But those are the men I recall doing business with."

Westman stared at the list, then at Face. Clearly, he didn't know what to make of this. Face knew for a fact the Army had been trying to get their hands on the Americans involved in the operation for months. But he probably hadn't expected there to be so many of them, or to be presented with such a complete list of foreign nationals higher up the food chain. But if Face was going for suicide, he'd might as well go big.

"You understand that these allegations are very serious," Westman said slowly in a not-quite-question.

It probably wasn't meant to be as patronizing as it sounded. Nevertheless, it made Face's blood boil. "I know what it means," Face said as flatly as he could manage, eyes ice cold as they locked on the general's. "I'm not here by choice. Sir."

Westman stared at him for a moment, then looked past him at Hannibal. Whatever passed in that stare, Face didn't really give a damn. But Hannibal's condescending smile made every muscle in Face's body tense up. "We're learning to be part of a team."

Fuck you! Face wanted to scream at him. Instead, he clenched his teeth together so hard he thought they might crack.

"Alright, then," Westman said, dropping the list of names onto his desk. "I'll be looking into it."

"Thank you, General," Hannibal said.

Face followed his lead - salute, turn, and leave - but stopped in the hallway, as soon as the door was closed. "I don't think you have any idea what I just did," he grumbled at Hannibal coldly.

Hannibal turned and glanced back. "I know that your reputation is shot to hell, if that's what you mean."

Face could feel the anger tightening in his chest. "Well, if that was your goal, you did accomplish that," he growled. "But that's not what I mean. You talk about this team, how we're all in this together… You think Alex was a problem? If anyone traces that list back to me, he'll be the least of your worries."

Hannibal paused for a moment, then turned and crossed back to him, stopping so close he was clearly violating Face's personal space. "You know what my goal is, Sergeant?"

"Enlighten me," Face snarled back.

"It's my goal to break you down into nothing," the colonel reflected thoughtfully. "And then put the pieces back together again in the right order. Kind of like they did in basic, only better."

"Right," Face mocked angrily. "Better than basic."

"They did you a big disservice in not teaching you what it means to be part of a team," Hannibal continued, turning away again and starting down the hallway. Face kept stride next to him. "And until you understand that, you're useless to me."

Face's eyes were narrowed into slits. He wanted to swing on this man casually strolling next to him. But in this public place, and with such a difference in rank, he didn't dare. "Well, congratulations. Now I'm useless to everyone else, too."

"Yeah," Hannibal chuckled. "That's the idea."

Face growled audibly.

"You know, kid, there's a reason why I fought to get you on my team," he casually mused. "And in case you haven't figured it out, it's because you're different. You have your own set of rules, your own moral code, but you do what you believe is right. The army frowns upon that."

"So I've noticed," Face snapped. What the hell was his point?

"Well, I don't."

Face was careful not to show any reaction, but that hadn't been the response he was expecting. Hannibal walked casually alongside him, saying nothing for a long moment as Face absorbed those words and tried to figure out what he was supposed to say back. Finally, the colonel stopped and turned to face him head-on. "Listen to me, kid," he said flatly. "I don't mind that you're flexible with the Army's rules – really, I don't. But I got a slightly different set of rules. Once you earn a place on this team, I don't give a damn what you do, who you are, where you go, I've got your back. And you will give me the same."

"Once I earn a place?" Face challenged. "I thought that was pretty much a done deal at this point. It's you or the stockade, and I've made my choice."

"Yeah, but you forgot it pretty quick when the rubber met the road – decided to be a one man band and almost got yourself killed in the process. That won't happen again."

Face snorted with laughter. "Hell no, it won't. There won't be anything 'almost' about next time. And who knows, you might even get a commendation out of it. Hell of a drug ring to break up with a single stroke."

"I'm not doing this for a commendation," Hannibal scoffed.

"Well, what the hell are you doing it for?" Face demanded angrily. He didn't care that everyone in the hallway did a double take before turning their heads away completely and scurrying away. "Because it sure as hell ain't benefitting me!"

"Get it through that thick skull of yours, Face," Hannibal warned, eyes narrowing on him. "It's not about you anymore."

Face stared back at him, eyes narrowed, nodding slightly. "Yeah," he snapped. "Part of the team, right? One for all and all for one."

"That's right," Hannibal answered with a surprising amount of determination.

Face nodded again, silently accepting the challenge with a bitter smile. "Yeah, okay," he conceded furiously. "We'll just see how long that lasts."

New York City

February 6, 1972

"You okay, kid?"

Huddled on the curb, holding his head up with one hand and a cigarette with the other, Face didn't even glance up. "I'm fine."

Hannibal sat down next to him, wishing for a cigar. As if reading his mind, Face suddenly produced one from his breast pocket. Hannibal laughed. "You're kidding me."

But as he took it, he realized that it was very much real. It was also Cuban. With a slight smirk, Face handed him a lighter. "Happy birthday. Since I won't be around to see it."

Hannibal chuckled again and shook his head slightly before biting off the end of the cigar and lighting it. "You know, it's going to be strange not having you around, Lieutenant."

Face glanced up, but kept his head turned away, staring out across the dark and dirty city. "You'll get used to it."

Hannibal could tell - from his tone, from his body language, from the way he hesitated - that their plan to split up was not sitting well with Face. Hannibal reconsidered it carefully, and lowered his head. "Do you think it's worth it?" he finally asked.

"What?"

"Splitting up?"

Face didn't answer.

"There's advantages and disadvantages," Hannibal continued when he received no response. "On one level, it's safer."

Face chuckled, but it was without humor. "Only one?" He glanced over, and the two of them locked eyes briefly. "I think you need to recount, Colonel. On all levels, it's safer." Face looked away again, and dragged on his cigarette. "Lynch can't be three places at once. If he does catch up with one of us, the other two will have fair warning. Not to mention..." He trailed off.

"So is it worth it?" Hannibal asked after a long silence.

Face laughed again, and cast a sidelong glance at the man sitting beside him. "Are you worried about me?"

"Maybe."

Face looked away again, lowering his head. "Don't be," he said quietly. "I can take care of myself."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

Face took another long drag on his cigarette, staring blankly down at the asphalt under his feet. The silence was long and uneasy. Face had plenty of time to finish his cigarette and chain to another one. He was halfway through with it before he spoke again. "Hey, Hannibal?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"You remember what you said once about... what might happen? When I came back to the States?" He paused for a long moment, taking another nervous drag. "About... you know... if I can't control the anger, the kill instinct..."

Hannibal sighed. "You'll control it, kid."

Face ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth, shifting uneasily. "Well, if I can't..." Finally, he turned his head and stared at his CO. "You're probably the only one out there who'd be able to track me down and put a bullet in my head. To stop me."

Hannibal stared back at him, his gaze dead serious. Finally, he nodded slowly. "That goes both ways, Lieutenant," he whispered back.

Face nodded back, and extended a hand. As Hannibal grasped it, he pulled the younger man closer, into an embrace. To his surprise, Face clung to him. Then, with a shudder that might have been a quiet sob, he pulled away abruptly and stood to his feet. He disappeared back into the hotel room, leaving the half-finished cigarette on the curb.

That night, Hannibal and BA each took six hour shifts. When Hannibal awoke the next morning, Face was gone. By the time the sun went down the next evening, so was BA.

It felt like an ending.