Manipulation - Chapter Two

The silence in the van was deafening.  No one moved although Face was all too aware of the three stares that weighed heavily on his head.

 

A dog barked somewhere in the distance and Hannibal shifted, bringing all eyes to rest on him before he moved again, extending his hand out to Face and offering up a sad attempt at a smile, “Hey, kid,” his voice sounded a little rough so he cleared his throat and tried again, “congratulations. You always said this would happen one day.”

 

Face just looked at him, his expression blank, before he stretched out his arm in return, grabbing Hannibal’s hand and shaking it firmly. “Thanks.”

 

“What?” BA’s explosion broke the moment. “That’s all you gotta say?” he was looking at Hannibal. “That fool been off bad mouthin’ ya, tellin’ the army you kidnapped him an’ all you gotta say is ‘congratulations’?”

 

Everyone moved at once. Murdock hunched back into his chair, drawing his feet up under him and wrapping his arms around his knees as he peered out at BA and Face from under his cap. Face meanwhile swung around in his seat, dropping Hannibal’s hand as if it burned him and turned on BA, fury in his eyes. “You think I did what?!” he yelled, “I’ve never said anything of the kind!” While Hannibal reached a hand out, trying to soothe Face’s anger with a palm on his forearm whilst speaking quietly to BA.

 

“They said CCTV footage, BA, they must have reviewed the CCTV footage from Pensacola. I did drag Face outta there in a tanning capsule remember...”

 

Face thudded back heavily in his seat, crossing his arms tight across his chest while still glaring at BA as the big guy himself snapped an answer back at Hannibal. “Yeah, man, but Face weren’t no kidnap victim, and they had them tapes for years now! What they doin’ draggin’ it all out now? If they thought you’d snatched him, why didn’t they say that years ago?”

 

Hannibal frowned and looked back at Face. “I don’t know, BA, but something doesn’t sit right about this with me at all...”

 

In a second, Face’s still far too short fuse was back alight, and he leaned forward in his chair, eyes flashing at Hannibal. “So, what then boss? What do you think? You think I grassed you up here, hey? Went running to the army, said you snatched me?”

 

Taking yet another deep breath Hannibal met his stare, “No, Face, I don’t. I just think this whole thing is a bit off. Why all this? Why now? I think this pardon is a fake, kid...”

 

“Yeah?” It was obvious that Face was not going to be easily pacified. “Do you think that there is something wrong with this pardon, Hannibal, or are you just pissed that it’s mine?” The tense silence fell again as BA threw up his hands and Murdock pulled his knees in to his chest even tighter; Hannibal meanwhile, just tried to keep his expression carefully blank. “That’s the thing isn’t it?” Face continued. “You’re all pissed ‘cause I get this pardon and you don’t, that I’m gonna be a free man and you’re not.”

 

“Face...” Murdock’s voice was a nothing more than a scratchy whisper, “you seriously gonna do this without us?”

 

For just a second, Face looked floored. His eyes fell on his best friend and took in Murdock’s expression, the deathly white pallor of his skin. But then Hannibal spoke again. “Of course not. If this pardon is the real deal then we are all going to be thrilled for you here, kid. We just need to slow this down a little, take some time to check it all out, make sure it’s all above board and not some plan to get you back in the slammer.”

 

Face dragged his eyes from Murdock to Hannibal and the colonel felt a chill settle through his bones at the expression he saw there; this was not going to be pretty. “So, I can’t take it then,” Face’s voice was low and calm. “This pardon. This chance I have at a normal life, you are saying I can’t take it.”

 

Hannibal chose his words very, very carefully. “I’m not saying that at all.” Beat. “All I’m suggesting is that we wait a little. Check this out a bit more before you take it up. I’m trying to keep you safe, Face.”

 

Face leaned in. “You’re trying to fuck my life,” he whispered.

 

Again no one moved. BA found that he wasn’t even breathing as his dark eyes flicked from Face to Hannibal and back again.

 

Hannibal’s voice was calmness personified. “I’d never do that, Face. You know that. All I’ve ever wanted is the very, very best for you.”

 

“Bullshit,” Face hissed. “You wouldn’t let me see Father David before he died, you wouldn’t even let me go to his funeral. You are trying to fuck my life.”

 

“You know why everything happened with Father David the way it did, Face, we have been over and over and over this.” Face shook his head, disgust in his expression, “And anyway!” Hannibal appealed, desperate to make him understand, “I was right! The army were crawling all over that church yard, they’d have picked you up in no time at all and-”

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Face leaned back as he held his hands up to Hannibal, “Let’s just wait a second here.” He bent forwards again, “You went to the funeral?”

 

They stared at each other, two sets of blue eyes that had shared so much over the years suddenly further part than they had ever, ever been. “Yes,” Face had to strain his ears to hear Hannibal’s voice properly, “I did.”

 

No one was surprised when the explosion came and Hannibal moved fast to try and head it off, “Now, listen to me, Face, let me explain what happened...”

 

“You fucking bastard!” he jerked back from Hannibal’s reaching hands.

 

“I was worried you would go on your own, like you did with that reunion! I just wanted to be there for you in case you needed help!”

 

“You fucking bastard!!” Face was scrambling to his feet now, trying to put as much distance between himself and his team as he could.

 

“Face, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, kid, I was just looking out for you!”

 

Stopping with his fingers on the handle of the door, Face turned cold eyes on his CO. “No you weren’t Hannibal, you were just out to control me, just like always, and I’ve had enough of it!” He yanked the door open and bright sunlight flooded into the van. He turned back to BA. “I had nothing to do with this pardon coming through BA, fucking nothing. But I tell you something, it couldn’t have come at a better time.”

 

Without another word he stepped out onto the sidewalk and slammed the door behind him, turning on his heel and stalking away down the road. And for about the twentieth time that month, Hannibal was left with a view of his XO’s back, almost quivering with rage, as he disappeared into the distance.  

 

_________________

 

There was a heavy silence in the van as they drove along the freeway, but no one had much enthusiasm to turn on the radio. Murdock was twisted around in his seat, arms folded, head laid against the back rest, eyes staring blankly at the seat where Face had been sat that morning.

 

“You think he’s already gone to the cops?” he asked timidly after a while and no one had to ask him who he meant.

 

“No,” Hannibal let out a long sigh as he answered. “Despite what he said, he’s cautious enough by nature that he’s not just gonna walk in there without doing a little bit of research first.”

 

“Huh,” BA sneered, “fool said he’d rather be in jail than here though, you remember that?”

 

Hannibal’s eyes drifted to the sidewalk as they left the Freeway and started driving through the district back to the warehouse, hoping he would see a familiar figure as they drove by. “Face said a lot of things he didn’t really mean,” Hannibal interjected carefully. “We all did.” And Hannibal knew that Face dreaded going back to jail, Pensacola had been fine, almost like a damn hotel by the time Face was done with it, but the juvie unit he’d been in before the army was another story altogether...

 

They got back to the warehouse and BA drove the van inside as Murdock hung off the huge double doors, letting himself ride in and out on them in the pretence of letting the others through, and then Hannibal went straight into his office pretending he couldn’t see his Captain checking all around the huge space for Face, before slumping down in one of the battered old sofas they kept there and flicking on the news channel.  

 

Conversation was stilted for the rest of the day. Face didn’t turn up, but it also didn’t look like he had handed himself in either. Murdock had the news channels running all day, and all day they kept on repeating the news about Face’s pardon, about how it seems he was kidnapped by the rest of the A-Team, speculating on why that was, what the ‘mercenaries’ could possibly have wanted with him.

 

Hannibal and BA kept right out of the way, BA in the garage, working on Face’s Mustang which he’d left there first thing this morning, before the whole world had been blown into pieces, and all day, Face didn’t show.

 

It was dark and Hannibal was still in his office filling his time with who knows what while Murdock was lounging on one of the sofas still, staring listlessly at the TV while eating cold pizza from the box.

 

“Hey, boss,” Hannibal looked up from his notes to see BA standing in the doorway, leaning on the door jam, “I think I might just head home for the night.”

 

Hannibal dropped his pencil and reached up, linking his hands above his head and stretching until his back popped. “Okay, big guy. We’ll see you back here in the morning?”

 

“Sure thing, usual time.”

 

Hannibal nodded and cracked him a smile but the corporal didn’t move. “Something on your mind there, BA?” He could tell there was, and it didn’t take a genius to work out what it was.

 

BA took a deep breath, “You really gonna let him leave, boss?”

 

Hannibal leaned his elbows down onto the mess of papers that covered his table and tiredly scrubbed at his face. “Of course I am, Bosco. That was always the deal right? No one had to stay here, if anyone ever wanted to quit then that was always their choice.”

 

“Right,” BA muttered quietly, “but, you know man, I always figured we were in this together, you know? One for all and all for one and all that shit.”

 

Hannibal laughed. “BA, Face isn’t gonna stop caring about any one of us just ‘cause he’s not a wanted man anymore. This freedom, it’s everything to him, just like it would be for any of us. How can we stop him from grabbing his chance with both hands? What if it was you? What if you had the chance to go back and see your momma anytime you wanted? Take her on fancy holidays? Buy her dinner out on her birthday? Would you say no to that for us?”

 

“I don't know man...” he mumbled into his chest.

 

“Well,” Hannibal stood up and stretched out again, “you’d be a fool if you did BA. Kid deserves a chance just like anyone, and if it were legit, I’d push him towards it with both hands.”

 

“You still don't think it’s kosher?”

 

Hannibal shook his head. “This General Dobson guy on the radio? Nothing to do with us as at all, not now and never has been. So what’s he doing looking at CCTV from Pensacola? What’s he doing getting involved in Face’s case like this?”

 

The two men stared at each other and BA could see the worry lines around the colonel’s eyes. “So what you gonna do, man?”

 

Hannibal just shrugged and rubbed his hand over his eyes. “I don’t know. I suppose it depends on what Face lets us do, right?” BA nodded. “But I’m not cutting him adrift though, that’s for certain, no matter how bad his tantrums get.”

 

A wry smile crept over BA’s face. “Face don't know what he’s doin’ man, takin’ you on.”

 

Hannibal smiled back, “Us, big guy, us. We’re all here for him, right?”

 

Brown eyes met blue and there was a long pause. “Right,” BA eventually agreed. “I suppose I could drop by the fool’s place on ma way home, see if he there. See if he okay.”

 

Hannibal nodded, “I think that would be an excellent idea, corporal. You’ll call me?”

 

BA nodded and Hannibal leaned back into his seat, picking up his notes on General Jay Dobson once more.

 

_______________

 

Face wasn’t at his apartment when BA called around that night, or the next morning when the big guy went back. BA didn’t have a key or Face’s lock picking skills and by the time he made it into the warehouse he was beginning to wonder if Face had handed himself in already. However, one glance at Murdock, still in yesterday’s clothes and looking like he’d been up all night watching the news programs, soon showed him the fallacy of that thought. He stood and stared at the Captain, frowning at the glassy red-rimmed eyes and frantically tapping foot before turning and catching a glimpse of Hannibal through the open office door, looking pale and drawn as he flicked through the notes he’d made on the whole pardon-debacle. He shook his head, his frustration with Face mounting by the second and did what he always did in a tense situation like this, headed for the garage.

 

And then, at ten thirty am exactly, just as BA had made both Hannibal and Murdock a strong coffee, the door to the warehouse opened up and Face walked in.

 

Murdock’s head swivelled around at the sound of the squeaky door and his eyes lit up like a child in a toy shop as he saw his friend standing there. “Face!” he exclaimed, the shout echoing around the space of the warehouse, and he was over the back of the sofa and on his feet, starting in Face’s direction, crazy grin on his face. But then his eyes fell on the kit bag, packed to capacity, standing at Face’s feet and he ground to a halt, the smile slipping from his face. “Oh,” he said, the flatness in his voice cutting through the silence of the others, “I thought...” and then he trailed off, turning on his heel and almost sprinting through the doors into the garage in his haste to get away. Face just watched him go, his own expression etched through with anguish.

 

For a second no one else spoke. The squeak of the garage door swinging on its hinges and the low hum of the news caster from CNN were the only sounds to break the silence until Hannibal, always the leader, recognising his responsibilities even in this most unlikely of conflicts, stepped forward. “So, you made your mind up then, kid?”

 

Face’s eyes, shining in the gloom of the warehouse flicked over to him and he seemed to draw himself up a little straighter. “Yeah, and I’ve come to say goodbye boss, so I’d rather not fight with you today if that’s alright.”

 

Instantly Hannibal’s hands were up, palms outward, and that sad excuse for a smile was fixed across his face once more. “No, of course not. I always said you were free to go, I just wanted you to think about things a little, acknowledge the possibility that this might be a trap.”

 

Slowly, Face nodded. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it,” his expression was earnest, “and I think it will be fine.”

 

Hannibal’s smile broadened, “Good. Excellent,” a hand rubbed through his hair in a nervous gesture rarely seen. “I was thinking, you know, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have the whole thing looked at by a lawyer though? What do you think? I know a guy you could use if you want.”

 

Face walked over to the back of the sofa that Murdock had been laid on and leaned against it, folding his arms; Hannibal could see that he was trying to look calm and relaxed but failing miserably to those who knew him best. “Oh, it’s fine thanks boss. I have this PR Company working for me now, and they have had one of their guys look it over, say it looks totally sound.”

 

“Huh,” BA’s low growl caught both their attention. “Didn’t take you long to get yourself set up Faceman, did it?”

 

A look of hurt flashed across Face’s expression and Hannibal took a step in, trying to deflect the tension, “Yeah? Who you using then, kid?”

 

“Erm,” Face, fumbled about in his pockets, a very un-Facelike manoeuvre and eventually pulled out a card which he handed over to Hannibal. “This company,” he said, “they called me last night, offered to work for free for the first three months, just until I get myself sorted out a bit.”

 

Hannibal took the card and read: ‘Samantha McCartney, McCartney, Manners & Associates’. He smiled as he looked at Face, “This Samantha McCartney, she a bit of a looker?”

 

Face’s grin was sheepish as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked at the colonel, “Yeah. Not bad, you know.”

 

Shaking his head in mock exasperation, Hannibal handed the card to BA before turning back to Face. “So, when are you going?”

 

Instantly Face was on edge again, “Erm, now,” he answered , standing up from the sofa, “just called by to pick up my car and let you know.”

 

“Okay, right then,” Hannibal stepped forward and smiled at Face, extending his hand out. “Well, best of luck then kid, you know we are all rooting for you.”

 

For just a second, a look of complete devastation washed through Face’s expression at Hannibal’s brisk brush off, but almost as fast it was gone, replaced instead by that self assured and totally false smile, the ‘conman smile’ Hannibal had nick-named it, and it floored him to have it aimed in his direction for once. But Face’s hand was extended and he reached out to shake it and noticed that the kid wouldn’t quite meet his eye and pulled his hand away just a little too fast.

 

BA looked from one to the other, a frown pulling at his forehead. Just as he thought that there was no way on earth that all this shit could get any more fucked up... But then Face was in front of him, that damned polite hand extended again. “BA?” and the big guy looked up, right into that fictitious smile and he shook his head, refusing to let things go like this, in this feigned shroud of formality. But of course Face misunderstood and withdrew his hand as if stung, even the fake smile falling from his face in the circumstances.

 

Instant regret tugged at BA’s heart and he stepped forward, anxious to try and make amends but unsure quite how to go about it, only Face had already moved on, a hand in his hair as he hauled his bag from the floor and across his shoulder. There was nothing he could think of to do now, only look to Hannibal, hoping the boss would step up and rescue the situation, but he had moved to lean back against the counter with his arms folded tight across his chest and a look in his eyes as if he were in pain.

 

Face didn’t pause to study him, or to notice the way BA’s hand reached out for him as his eyes flicked from Face to Hannibal and back again. He didn’t even pause to exchange any other word of goodbye, his stomach was too tight, his heart was pounding too hard and that nasty little voice that lived in his head was telling him that this day was always going to come, that they hadn’t ever needed him in the first place, that he was a spare, a hindrance, a nuisance.

 

Instead, his legs carried him briskly to the garage and he threw his bag into the passenger seat of the Mustang, following it by jumping over the door through the open roof. He realised too late that the double doors would be shut and pushed up, ready to climb back out and open them when he was suddenly bathed in bright sunlight. He squinted through the glare and saw a familiar outline standing against the now open doors, baseball cap tilted at the usual angle and for a second the pain in his chest flared so hot it almost crippled him. But he pushed through it, as he had done many times before and would do many times again, and turned the ignition over.

 

In a second he was backing out, past the baseball capped figure now leaning against the doors with its arms folded and Face turned his head, refusing to look. His vision was blurring anyway, it must have been the effects of the fumes in the close quarters of the warehouse and he blinked until they were clear again, ignoring the trickle of warmth he felt down one cheek. And then he was out in the sunshine and backing the car around so he could pull out and in a reassuring roar of power he was out of the parking lot and gunning down the road towards his new life as a free man. He didn’t look back.  

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