CHAPTER EIGHT

October 15, 1968

Face could tell that Boston was trying very hard to ignore the screams from inside the building as he finished his fifth cigarette and chained to a sixth. "You know," he breathed deep as he flicked a glance back to the doorway, "I'm not so crazy about what's going on in there."

"Hannibal's in there," Face reminded coolly, "if it makes you feel any better."

Boston wasn't relieved in the slightest. "Should it?"

Face smirked. "You trust Hannibal, remember?" It was amusing to have to remind Boston of that fact. "He won't let it get too out of hand."

Boston frowned. "I'd say it's already getting a little out of hand."

"The man knows what he's doing," Cipher added. He seemed far less moved by the symphony of torture. If anything, he looked like he was growing impatient.

"Which man would that be?" Boston challenged. "Hannibal? Or Decker?"

Cipher smiled. "Actually, I meant the interrogator."

"Who works for Decker," Boston reminded him uneasily. "Whom I don't particularly trust."

Face didn't answer. Like Cipher, he had no strong feelings about whatever was going on in the little hootch. For one thing, the guy was part of the men responsible for making six teams go missing. For another, he could make it stop anytime. He was at least confident that Hannibal didn't do this for fun.

A few seconds of uneasy silence later, Hannibal stepped out of the room. The look on his face was void of emotion, ice cold. "I sure hope that accomplished something," Boston sighed, standing up next to Face.

"Face," Hannibal ordered, "you and Cipher are going with Decker and a couple of the CIDG. Boston and I will take another team. There's two camps within ten miles of here. Decker's lost teams could be at either one."

"Alive?" Cipher asked, surprised.

"Possibly," Hannibal answered.

"Ten miles," Boston repeated, sounding concerned. "Are we going to walk that?"

"How did Decker not know that there were two camps within ten miles of him?" Face demanded, not waiting for an answer to Boston's question.

"Decker's only been here a week," Hannibal explained. "He's a fixer – not unlike I used to be."

"Used to?" Face smirked.

"This camp has had a lot of problems," Hannibal continued, ignoring him. "Not least of which would be the last commander." He glanced at Boston, finally answering his question. "And no, we're not walking."

Boston nodded. "I'll go get our pilot," he said, heading in the direction of the team room.

"So what you're telling me, then, is that they sent Decker out here to clean up," Cipher concluded. "And his way of cleaning out was to send out patrols who didn't know what they were doing."

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Hannibal admitted, surprising Face with his honesty. What kind of CO sent unprepared men out to their deaths rather than submit them to retraining?

"And we're supposed to take these guys out with us?" Face challenged. "You got any idea how much noise they were making out there?"

"I do," Hannibal nodded. "Which is why you're taking Decker with you."

Face frowned as he followed a half-step behind Hannibal, towards the barracks. "Is that supposed to be a better option?"

"The closer of the two camps is less than two miles," Hannibal explained. "If you want the element of surprise, you're going on the ground."

"I'm with Face," Cipher interjected, ignoring Hannibal's attempt to deflect. "Do you actually trust this guy on the ground?"

"I don't know," Hannibal sighed, stopping in his tracks. He looked back at the two men staring at him with worried looks. "I've never been outside the wire with him."

Face raised a brow. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"He did a few drops with a Hatchet Force," Hannibal continued. "If he wasn't good, he'd be dead already."

"Ah, yeah," Face answered uneasily, "and he came out here to this base and cleaned house the old fashioned way. You really want us taking orders from him."

"You take orders from me," Hannibal clarified.

"Wait," Cipher interrupted. "You're serious? He'd really do that?"

"Don't put anything past him," Hannibal warned. "He'll get the job done at all costs. He's known for it."

Face smiled, but it was bitterly cynical. "I can see why you two get along so well."

Hannibal answered him with a brief glare, but had his hands full with Cipher, who looked positively worried. "Look, if he's the best guy here and you can't trust him implicitly, why the hell are we splitting up?" Cipher demanded. "You can say whatever you want here, but out there, he outranks us by a mile. What are we supposed to say, 'Hey, let me run that by Hannibal first'?"

"It's a bad idea," Face agreed.

"He might outrank you," Hannibal granted, "but I'm pretty sure the two of you can out-maneuver him."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Cipher stage whispered as a too-interested soldier from the camp walked by, casting them a sideways glance.

Hannibal sighed. "Look, there's a very good chance that our men are not alive."

"All the more reason we shouldn't be splitting up," Face said firmly.

"But what if they are?"

Face's eyes slid closed at the trump card he'd known was coming.

"Yeah," he retorted. "And what if we find them and don't have the manpower to get them out?"

"I have faith in you," Hannibal said with a confident smile.

As Hannibal started walking again, Cipher was hot on his heels. "Look, I don't care what kind of history you have with him," Cipher sighed. "I don't even care what kind of a person he is. I don't care if you like him or if you don't. What I care about is that I got five hundred yards away from this camp and I was ready to tell his men to turn their asses right back around because they were putting us in more danger than they were worth. Personally, I'd like to be working with someone who knows what they're doing on the other side of the wire. And if that someone isn't Decker, then this is a hell of a risk."

The look on Hannibal's face was emotionless as he sighed once more. "It's a risk you're going to take, Sergeant," he said plainly. Cipher stopped following as he realized he was getting nowhere in this argument. Hannibal called his last words over his shoulder, not slowing on his way to the TOC. "He's got your coordinates. I'll see you when it's over."

August 27, 1978

Face should've been expecting the police interrogation. After all, he'd been inside of a house that exploded into flames and threw its occupants through the living room window. Although it was not far from a typical Tuesday afternoon in his world, most small communities would be shaken to the core by such a spectacle.

"Your name, sir?" the tall, lanky officer asked, pad and paper in hand as he waited expectantly for Face's explanation.

Unfortunately, he was still a little disoriented. The pounding headache didn't help. "Jeff Dales," he answered, glad Jessica was in another room. He hoped she wasn't giving them a different name - like his real one. He'd feed them an explanation easily enough, but he didn't really want to explain the discrepancy to her. If local law enforcement had his name in connection with this newsworthy ordeal, it was only a matter of time before the military police got it as well.

"Alright, Mr. Dales," the officer began with a polite smile. "What can you tell me about what happened tonight?"

Face sat forward, his legs hanging off the end of the bed in the small white room of the ER. "I was at Jessica's house for dinner," he said quietly. "Her mother took the kids out for ice cream. We talked, and I saw movement out the window. It was a man running to a car parked on the other side of the road. The next thing I remember, I was on the front lawn."

"What kind of car was it?" the officer questioned.

"Uh..." Face fought through layers of fog to retrieve the memory. "Dark sedan. The car's been there before, I think. The guy inside - at least, the guy I saw the other night - had dark hair, balding, dark eyes, mustache, probably 5'8", 175 pounds. No identifying marks that I could see, but it was dark. He was in a white polo, dark slacks."

The officer was scribbling furiously. "Anything else you can remember?"

God, his head hurt... "Yeah, his license plate was California 1-1-2, Bravo-Delta-Bravo."

At that, the officer paused. "You got his license plate number?" he asked, amazed.

"Well, that's the car from the other day," Face clarified. "He looked suspicious. I can't say for sure it was the same car but it's a hell of a coincidence if it isn't."

In the back of his mind, Face considered the possibility that he should've withheld that last little bit of information. It made him seem a little too observant, and he didn't want to answer questions. But he wasn't thinking too clearly right now. The man had asked, and he'd answered.

The officer went back to writing for a moment, then looked up again. "Anything else you can remember?"

"No," Face answered quietly.

"Can you think of anybody who might want to harm you or Ms. Summers?"

At least a dozen people came immediately to mind. He had plenty of people out for his blood, but none who would've traced him all the way here. That car certainly hadn't been for him.

"Like I said, I hardly know her," he answered, squeezing every ounce of sincerity into his tone. "But I don't have any enemies. At least none who would want to do something like this."

"Okay." The officer folded his notepad and tucked it away before offering Face a congenial smile. "If you think of anything else, here's my card." Face took it and studied it for a moment. He'd keep it. It might come in handy someday. "Feel free to call me anytime."

The officer left, and Face had a few more minutes to wait in silence before he received his requested discharge papers and headed to the next room. Once there, he cracked the door open slowly. Jessica jumped at the sound, and quickly looked away when she saw him.

"You okay?" he asked.

She was dirty, but appeared relatively unharmed except for the redness on all of her exposed skin. She nodded. "They're letting me go," she answered quietly.

"Me too." Actually, they'd wanted him to stay overnight in case his concussion lapsed into a coma. Based on what little he knew of hospitals, he suspected he wasn't the only one leaving against medical advice. She'd needed oxygen in the ambulance, which meant she'd suffered smoke inhalation. And she'd lost consciousness, too. That seemed more than sufficient to keep her overnight.

"How's your arm?" she asked quietly as he stepped through the door into the small room. He left it cracked open as he sat down next to her on the hospital bed, still checking her for obvious signs of injury.

He glanced down at the bandage briefly. "Sixteen stitches," he answered. "I'll be alright."

Studying her carefully, he tried to read the myriad of emotions on her face. Fear and anger and confusion mingled in equal and overwhelming amounts, leaving her with glassy eyes and an unseeing stare. Face was all too familiar with that glazed look. She was traumatized. Brushing her hair back from her burned face as gently as possible, he drew her attention with an inquisitive look. She flinched, avoiding his gaze without actually withdrawing from the comforting touch.

"You care to tell me what that was all about?" he finally asked.

Her jaw tightened, and he watched as well-used defenses sprang up on a foundation of anger. Saying nothing, she pulled away, and he withdrew his hand with a frown.

"Hey, I could've been killed back there," he reminded her, slightly indignant. "I at least deserve to know what for."

"I'm sorry," she replied, without a hint of remorse. "It has nothing to do with you. I can't help the injury itself but I'm happy to pay the hospital bill."

He stared at her incredulously. The hospital bill hadn't even crossed his mind as a concern. But her sudden, cagey silence worried him a great deal. Even aware that he was swallowing another uncomfortable scenario - hook, line, and sinker - he couldn't help the burning need to know what the hell she was hiding this time. Whatever it was, it seemed a bit more serious than her last cache of hidden drama. The players involved this time had just tried to kill her...

A knock on the open door signaled the nurse's return before he had any chance to pry further. "Ms. Summers, I'll just need you to sign this right here," the woman in white directed, holding out a clipboard. "It says you understand that you're leaving against your physician's directive and that you're releasing the hospital from any liability for injuries incurred as a result of this decision."

Face had already heard the speech once and Jessica wasn't even listening. She just signed at the X and handed the clipboard back without reading it. Face had no chance to suggest that it might be safer for her to stay, just as a precaution. She was on her feet by the time the nurse handed her the discharge papers.

"Thank you," she said curtly, pushing past them both.

Face followed a step behind, out of the room and down the hall to the waiting room of the ER. "You don't really think this is over, do you?" he asked, keeping perfect pace with her and controlling his voice to ensure no one else could hear. "I mean, whoever that guy was, he seems to have had every intention of killing you. And I can't imagine you told the police everything. So where, exactly, do you think this is going?"

Ignoring him, she pushed open the doors to the waiting room and was immediately greeted by two children who bounced off the plastic seats in unison, sneakers squeaking on the floor as they ran to her. "Mom! Are you alright?"

"What happened?"

She didn't have a chance to answer their overlapping questions before Momma joined in, leaving the sleeping baby in the stroller near the waiting room chairs. "Mercy, child! You look a wreck!"

Grabbing up her purse, Momma stood as Jessica knelt and wrapped her arms around both children. She hugged them tight, murmuring quietly about how she was just fine, and how much she loved them, and everything was going to be okay. Face took a step back from the emotional scene, gravitating to the woman watching with a look of concern that mirrored his own.

Momma looked him over more carefully as he approached, eyes lingering on the ripped arm of his shirt and the bandages covering his stitches. "I'm glad you two are alright," she said in her best comforting voice.

Face smiled tightly in return. "We're fine," he answered. "Though I can't say the same for your house."

"Yes, I know," Momma answered, the brave facade fading as he brought up the reality of what she had just lost. "But everyone is okay and that's the important part."

"Wow, Mom, you're sunburned," James said as he finally pulled away.

"Look!" Heather added. "Mr. Peck is sunburned too!"

Jessica released them reluctantly and took a few steps to her mother. The embrace they shared was just as emotional as the one the kids had just been freed from. "You've been by the house?" Jessica asked, muffled by the hug.

Momma nodded solemnly as she pulled away. "Now, don't you worry. Everything's gonna be just fine."

"Mom, what happened?" James questioned, hanging on her arm.

"We saw the house," Heather said seriously, clasping Jessica's other hand. "Where are we going to live now?"

Any of the hard determination Jessica had managed to retain fell away in that moment as she stared into the trusting eyes of the little girl beside her. "Oh, honey..." she managed, clearly not sure what to say. She cast a lingering look at the sleeping baby, but apparently thought better of waking her up.

"What matters is that we're all safe," Momma said firmly. "All of the things can be replaced. We're just going to have to find another place to stay for a little while, that's all."

"Where will we stay Mom?" James asked enthusiastically.

"I..." She shook her head. Clearly, she had no answer to that question yet.

Looking to Momma for support, she breathed a noticeable sigh of relief when the woman replied, "I talked to the Red Cross. They said they'll help but I think, for the next few nights, maybe we should think about taking a little trip out of time."

Face raised a brow. Hands in his pockets, he was content to watch the scene play out. What was not being discussed by the two women was as important as what was. Momma already knew it was wise to hide, which meant she probably knew considerably more.

"I got an idea!" Heather said excitedly. "Can we go camping?"

"Ooh!" James quickly joined in. "Yeah, Mom, can't we?"

"You said we could go camping this summer, remember?"

"Yeah, you said!"

Jessica stared at the tag-teaming children with a blank look, then stared at Momma again. Both of them seemed to have completely forgotten he was standing there; they paid him no heed as Heather began bouncing up and down.

"Oh, please!" she cried, clasping hold of her mother's hand. "It would be so much fun!"

"And you did say we could!" James prodded.

Momma had fallen silent, giving no encouragement to the children but not correcting them, either. She wanted to get out of the city for a few days - the exact same thought Face had. Camping was not exactly his idea of a good time, but he had to admit it would be a very good distraction for two eight-year-olds. Maybe more importantly, it would be about as safe a place as he could think of to drop off the radar.

"Heather..." Jessica was trying to think of an excuse.

"I think it sounds like a good idea," Momma finally piped up, eyes locked directly on the shell-shocked woman standing in front of her. "Let's all go camping for a few days. Get out of this smoggy city."

Jessica stared at her incredulously. "Momma, we don't even have camping gear! And the insurance company and the police will want to -"

"Well, we'll just have to buy some camping gear," Momma declared, interrupting her daughter with a smile. "We've got money in the bank. That certainly didn't burn up."

"And what about work?" Jessica tried again. "I can't just -"

Momma laid a condescending hand on Jessica's shoulder. "Honey, your house just blew up," she said. "I think everyone will understand."

"She's right," Face finally interjected. "Until we know there's no more danger to you or your family -" he made a point of directing his gaze to the children "- it would be safer for you to be where nobody can find you."

"It's almost 10:00 at night," Jessica reminded him. "How are we going to - "

"Get a hotel for tonight," Face suggested, pointing out the obvious.

"The Red Cross has already offered to pay for it," Momma interjected.

"I don't want to go to a hotel," Jessica protested weakly, though she obviously didn't have a better idea.

"And first thing in the morning," Face continued, ignoring her, "we can go get whatever supplies we need and -"

"It's not..." Jessica continued, interrupting as though she hadn't even heard him. She closed her eyes and drew in a shaky breath. "I wouldn't feel safe at a hotel."

"Well, we have to do something, love," Momma replied. "We can't just stand here all night, now can we?"

The look on Jessica's face made Face temporarily lose his train of thought. In spite of the defiantly tight jaw, tears were welling up in her eyes as she struggled to cope with the decision of what to do at 10:00 at night when her house had just been blown to pieces. He wondered if she'd even thought about it in all the time she'd been sitting in the emergency room, or if it was all hitting her now for the first time.

Face sighed and turned to Momma, who seemed to be the more clear-headed of the two right now. "Look, I don't know what's going on here," he said evenly. "But if you need a safe place to stay - just for tonight - I can roll out sleeping bags for the kids. I'll sleep on the couch and the three of you -" he glanced briefly at the baby and wondered if it would sleep through the night "- can have the bedroom. My apartment isn't big or exceptionally nice, but I promise it's safe."

He watched Jessica carefully to see how that would be received. But her eyes had glazed. She raised a hand to cover them, shaking her head, but didn't reply.

"I think that's very kind of you, Templeton," Momma answered for her. "What do you kids think? Would you like to go stay with Mr. Peck for the night?"

The chorus of enthusiasm caught Face slightly off guard. Even after dashing their hopes that they were going to a big apartment at the top of a skyscraper with a pool on the roof and a Jacuzzi on the balcony overlooking the ocean, they were still excited. Jessica's weak protests about not wanting to impose were heard and ignored, and finally, Face led the procession out of the hospital emergency room, wondering once again what the hell he'd just gotten himself into.