Okay, so I'm glad that people liked this story. I honestly thought that no one wanted to give Frankie the chance that he rightfully deserves as a character.

Fans blame him for the end, when really, he and Stockwell were the ones that prolonged it. For that, I think we ought to at least begrudgingly thank them for their efforts.

Every character deserves respect. #givefrankieachance

I will continue writing, and I'd love more reviews. If you want to see more, review. If you have a question, review. If you (insert), review! Also If you see continuity errors, I'd love to know about them, thanks. :) ;)


"Aw man! We're outta milk?!" BA's voice filled the whole house as he turned his angry eyebrows on his fellow teammates, "Who drank all t'milk?"

"Hannibal." Came Face's absent reply as he continued flipping through his magazine. The wrath immediately focused on its target. The snowy-haired man in question was watching TV, ignoring the threat. BA blocked the screen.

"Now, BA, would ya mind?" Hannibal looked up with reluctant exasperation.

"Did you drink my milk?" BA wasn't budging. Hannibal met his look with a questioning patient one.

"Does it really matter who had the last swallow of the milk you drank the rest of? Besides; Frankie went for more this morning."

"When?" BA didn't own up to anything, glancing at the clock as Hannibal answered,

"7:30?"

"It's 11:00 pm, Hannibal. Where is he?"

"Ah-it's a free week, BA. Can't Frankie do what he wants for a day?" Face spoke up then, attempting to placate the furious sergeant, "He's probably just hanging out with Murdock or something."

"Murdock?!" BA pulled his head back, his voice cracking with disbelief.

"BA, would ya calm down and let me watch?" Hannibal had been shifting in his seat, attempting to see around BA, but finally spoke up exasperatedly.

"Just call Murdock," Face tried again, "I'm sure that's where Frankie is."

"Fine. I will." BA was trying to make them react, but Face was once again reading, and Hannibal involved with his TV show. ... Well. He'd just have to show 'em. Murdock still reacted.

The call was easy enough to make, and Murdock answered almost immediately, "Hi, this is Murdock, Howlin' Mad; ... whose callin'?"

"'s me foo'." BA had no time for Murdock's games, so he cut to the chase, "You seen Frankie?"

"Yes, I have." Came the prompt reply.

"Where's he at?" BA was ready to give Santana an earful, but Murdock's next words kicked that plan aside.

"Oh, you meant today?"

"What's that supposed to mean?!" BA was easily frustrated, and Murdock never helped.

"I've seen him before, but the last time I saw him was yesterday." Murdock explained patiently, his voice settling into its usual low smooth tone.

"You mean you ain't seen 'im today?" BA clarified, seeing as the pilot had a tendency to talk in circles.

"No, I haven't." Murdock sounded amused, which immediately made BA angrier, "Should I have?"

"Hannibal drank my milk, and Frankie went this morning to get more." BA elaborated, his voice taut with annoyance.

"And he- he didn't come back?" Now it was Murdock's turn to clarify. Details had never been BA's cup of tea. ... milk.

"No. Face an' Hannibal aren't worried though. They figured he was witchou."

There was a pause, then Murdock repeated, "Well, he's not. But I-"

"Go find 'im and send 'im back here wit the milk." BA growled, and then hung up as violently as he could without ruining the phone. He tromped back to the living room, and saw that, to his annoyance, Face and Hannibal hadn't moved a muscle.

"He was with Murdock, right?" Face spoke up rather smugly. BA just scowled and left, annoyed.


BA's call had interrupted Murdock's self-burned dinner and had intrigued the pilot enough that he soon found himself on his way to the grocery store.

He arrived at 11:30, glad to see that it was still open, only to watch the employee flip the 'OPEN' sign over, declaring his search for Frankie; over. There was no way the employee had seen Frankie, since no one worked a shift that long. So Murdock watched a little disappointedly as the man drove off.

It was pretty dark now, and BA's welcome distraction to his otherwise boring day had turned out boring too. Frankie was probably just having a night on the town, and was getting home late. Still, since he was here, he wanted to make sure.

Murdock quickly made his way around the building. So far, he'd seen nothing suspicious at all. He'd almost made a full circle around the building when he found it, or more accurately, stepped in it.

A puddle, barely even within the definition of the word though, since it was almost just a damper spot of asphalt.

It hadn't rained at all, and so after a moment of indecision, he bent over and studied it. It was too dark to really see what it was though, so against most people's better judgment, he tasted it.

It was milk. Spilled milk. But that wasn't what had Murdock running to the nearest garbage can. It was the unmistakable metallic taste of blood that was mixed in with it.

It only took him a few moments to find the broken jugs of milk and he hurriedly pulled them out. Two leaky, empty jugs of milk, both splotched with something dry and brown. It didn't take a Vet from Nam to see that it was blood, and Murdock quickly ran to the pay-phone at the front. He had a bad feeling right in the pit of his stomach, but had to make certain.

"Hello?" Face's distracted voice came on the other end, and Murdock had to consciously slow down his breathing before answering.

"Face, is Frankie there?"

"He's not with you?" Face sounded genuinely confused, and Murdock felt himself on the verge of panic.

"I- I haven't seen 'im all day, an' the big guy told me that you- ... you hadn't seen 'im since this morning."

"Murdock," Face no longer sounded confused, but worried, "is there something wrong?"

"Do you know where Frankie is?" Murdock demanded, wishing Face would start worrying about the right person.

"Eh- he's probably fine, Murdock." Face soothed, "He's ... ah ... probably just out on the town or something!"

"If he's out on a date, then how do you explain the spilled milk and the blood on the ground out here?" Murdock's urgency had truly entered his voice, making all of his consonants more pronounced.

"Ah ... What?" Face replied after a moment, and then the line went dead.


Frankie once again awoke to restraints, a blindfold, and a headache. This time though, his was up against a wall. He could feel it. His arms were tied out to his sides, and he as basically hanging from them.

He could also feel that he was no longer outside. A musty smell surrounded him instead of a fresh one, and he decided he was in some sort of shed.

The earlier wetness of his cheek was gone, leaving a dry crusty feeling instead, and now it felt like the still-too-tight blindfold was stuck to his face. His head was still pounding relentlessly, specifically his left temple, and the fact that it had been hanging for the past while didn't help at all.

Frankie wasn't sure how long he'd hung there, and he wasn't sure how long he'd been out, but he was sure that the guys would come get him ... wouldn't they?

He was new on the team, sure, and Hannibal was the one who put the most trust in him. Hannibal was the only reason that he didn't feel completely left out, actually. The rest of the team couldn't seem to get over his early betrayal. Even after he'd explained that he'd had no choice, Hannibal was the only one who treated him pretty much the same. ... Well, ... BA sort of did too, but he'd never struck Frankie as an overly friendly guy in the first place. Now he was just more hostile.

Face ... well, with him, it seemed as though he treated Frankie the same, ... but it was like there were little shifts. Little faces that Frankie would see out of the corner of his eyes, lip twitches that made him wonder if Face truly trusted anyone. His name was ironic. You could never quite take anything he said at face value.

Murdock had seemed to get over it. Seemed to. ... Problem was, Frankie couldn't tell. He could usually kinda read people; but Murdock?

No. Hannibal was the only one who really trusted him. Hopefully.

Frankie was pulled back out of his thoughts when a faraway door opened and closed with a loud echoing slam. He heard footsteps coming towards him, and began to think that perhaps his holding shed was bigger than a shed. In fact; if the echoes were anything to go off of, he was in a garage, which would explain the musty smell. The footsteps were also strange, as the echoes made it sound like more than one person.

The footsteps stopped in front of him, and after the echoes died off, silence reigned for an awkward moment. Frankie waited for them to speak, but nothing happened, so he broke the silence, "Hey. So, I don't wanna be disrespectful or nothin', but wouldja mind lettin' me go?"

"You are awake." That awful oozy voice from earlier spoke, "Maybe you will talk now?"

"Oh, I'll talk." Frankie replied, nodding as much as he was able to, "But you might not like it, cuz it's the same answer as before. Might as well just record it and let me go."

"The A-Team!" A different voice spoke, and Frankie did a mental double take- there had been two sets of footsteps! "Tell us where the A-Team is!" The new voice was nasally and high-a stark contrast when compared with the first one.

"I already told you." Frankie sighed, wishing that the guys would just show up already. "I don't know what you're talkin' about."

"We know you're lying." Replied the smooth voice.

"Really? Then why didn't you guys just follow me back to the A-Team, since I work with them and everything?" Frankie spoke sarcastically, finding it difficult to keep an upbeat and positive attitude. He knew the team would come, and he wasn't dying, but he still found himself doubtful. What if they didn't? The nasally voice put a stop to that train of thought,

"We wanted a bargaining chip. A way to stop them from trying to stop us. You were the easiest one to get, and they won't want you dead."

"They don't even know me!" Frankie tried again, but playing the 'know-nothing' card was becoming more and more difficult the longer he was here.

"It would be much simpler if you would just talk." Oozy spoke again, "Tell us where they are."

"Can't you find 'em?" Frankie tried a new tactic.

"We have seen them separately." The voice conceded, "But we deemed it unwise to make a move on them, as, even separately, they have a reputation for defeating foes. You are new to them though, so you weren't as big of a threat."

"Wow, yeah, okay." Frankie was more than slightly offended, but was determined not to show it, "So these guys are really bad, and I wish you the best of luck in finding them, ... but can you let me go? I haven't done nothin' wrong. I'm just a special effects man. That's all."

"You are part of the A-Team!" Nasally spoke again, 'Just admit it and tell us where they are!"

"Why didn't you follow them?!" Frankie was really getting annoyed with this dance.

"They always knew, and shook us." Nasally spoke again after a beat of silence that Frankie now realized was shame. He couldn't help it. He laughed. And who wouldn't, when confronted with the image of someone trying very obviously to follow one of the A-Team home? Especially when home was Stockwell's place?!

"What is so funny?!" Nasally wasn't as calm as Oozy, who had stayed silent through all of this, and that made Frankie laugh even harder,

"So; because you couldn't find this A-Team, you grabbed a random guy just so you could actually catch somebody? Look, just lemme go-I haven't seen your faces, so I can't exactly call the cops on ya-and I'm willin' ta forget the whole thing." Frankie hoped that they were finally convinced he wasn't who they wanted, but couldn't tell, since they were silent. Finally he heard steps coming towards him, and dared to hope that his offer had worked ... only to have the blindfold pulled off, blinding his vision with dim light that stabbed mercilessly into his throbbing head.

"Uhnnn ..." He let loose and involuntary groan as the blurry shape that was his captor stepped back.

"Now you can see us." Oozy came into focus slowly, proving to be a tall, thin man with a face of stone.

"Tell us where the A-Team is." Nasally spoke up from behind, turning out to be a shorter, ferret-like overweight man with thinning brown hair. Both of their voices poked at Frankie's migraine, provoking it into becoming a true monster.

"I don't know where they are." He scowled at them, trying to look intimidating, but found it difficult when he continued to blink involuntarily. He was also a little annoyed that he'd been wrong about the garage-he was in a warehouse. A very big warehouse.

Oozy moved forward, his voice dangerous and low, "We know you do, or at least have a good idea-so you'd better talk now."

"And if I don't?" Frankie was sore, tired, and having a hard time remembering that his friends were on the way. Naturally, that made him irritable enough that he dropped the charade for moment. Just long enough to give his best BA impression, with a low growl and bared teeth.

"Then your existence could quickly become ..." Oozy smiled, revealing perfect slimy teeth, "unpleasant."

"I honestly don't know what you're talkin' about." Frankie sighed, slipping back into his safe act. At this point, he was almost convinced of the lie himself, and in his case, that might save his life.

"Then we begin." Replied Oozy, a knife flicking into his hand.

Stockwell had to know!