indigo_angels

Murdock stood and watched the little black car until it had disappeared into the traffic and then he just stood and stared at nothing. He couldn’t believe that Face had gone. Face was his best friend, had been since the first day they’d met, that night in Mexico when he and Face had sat up all night and talked like they’d known each other forever, and Face had apologised for calling him a freak show, while Murdock had apologised for setting Face’s arm on fire and then they had laughed so hard they had woken BA up and he had threatened to come and pound the pair of them.

Since that day, it was just like they were two halves of the same cookie, they fit together perfectly, knew each other inside out and always backed each other up, always helped each other down. But now Face had gone because he had got the pardon that Murdock hadn’t.

The boss had talked to him about this last night after BA had gone, told him that he should be pleased for Face and that this really didn't mean that they would be losing him. But Murdock had suddenly realised the truth, that Face had only ever been his friend due to circumstance, because in their little team of four only Murdock was stupid enough to get involved in Face’s crazy schemes and then when they were on the run, well realistically, how many other friends could Face have anyway? But now the truth was out, the first chance that Face had been given to run on his own, to break away from the team and find another life, he’d gone. Left Murdock behind without a thought.

Last night Hannibal had asked him to consider how he would have felt if it had been him who had been given the pardon and not Face, told Murdock that it would have been different then, that he would have wanted his chance of freedom just like Face. Murdock hadn’t said anything, had stared at the TV screen and listened to the boss, but the truth was he knew the answer to that question, and it was very different from what Hannibal thought it was. If he had the chance for a life on his own, in the clear, without the team, would he have taken it? No, absolutely not, without a shadow of doubt, categorically, no. Even the thought of trying to live his life without these men around him every day was horrifying, and out of all of them it was Face he would miss the most. Face who would go and watch X-Men at the movies with him ten times in one week, even though Hannibal had told them to stay away. Face who would drive over to Murdock’s apartment at three in the morning just because he was having one of those nights when the floor and the ceiling kept on merging. Face who would talk and talk and talk to him when the nightmares came, about football and music and cartoons and BA’s range of threats, anything other than let him think about mines and grenades and all that red red blood. It was like Face made him whole, made him a real boy. So without Face what was he? And all that they had shared over the years, all that that Face had given away so, so easily, was that all just nothing now?

It hurt to realise that no matter how important Face was to him, well, it just didn’t seem to matter the other way around.

He closed his eyes to the sun and watched as those little orange and black spots danced against his lids. He wondered if he could close his eyes hard enough to be able to see the worms in his head, but then thought better of that as the worms always ended up scaring him and Face was the best at making them piss the hell off back into his skull. He let out a long sigh and let his chin drop down onto his chest, making the orange spots disappear as well and wondering what he could do to fill up his day, and then he heard the shouting.

Opening his eyes and staring at his fingers Murdock listened hard and tried to think of the last time that he’d heard Hannibal and BA yelling at each other. Yeah, there was lots of general grumpiness to do with planes and needles and that type of thing, but real shouting, about real issues – no, just didn't happen. Hannibal argued with Face, and BA argued with him and Murdock and Face argued with each other about everything and nothing all the time as well, but Hannibal and BA? Still no.

With a huge sigh, Murdock pulled the garage doors shut behind him and trudged into the main part of the warehouse.

“I still don’t see how that’s helpin’ him man!” BA yelled as Murdock sidled in.

“I told you,” Hannibal had that ‘really really trying to be patient’ voice on that he usually saved for Face. “If I’d ordered him to stay here what the hell do you think he would have done?”

‘He’d have fucked off in a temper’ Murdock in-filled in his head.

But BA only shrugged so Hannibal answered his own question. “He’d have cleared off anyway!”

“How’d you know, man?”the big guy countered, “He never went to that funeral!”

“I know!” Hannibal’s voice was getting louder by the second, “But I did! So you really think he’d sit around at home at let me tell him what to do this time? He probably thinks I’d steal his pardon...”

“But you didn’t even tell him you wanted him to stay!” BA yelled back, pounding his fist on the counter.

“And why would I put all that guilt on him BA? I wanted him to do what was right for him, even if that meant leaving! It has to be his choice! I’ve never wanted to control him, or any of you!”

BA shook his head in frustration, “But now he thinks we jus’ don’ want him, boss! And you know what he’s like, how stupid he gets about all tha’ stuff! And-”

“Guys – ” Murdock interrupted from the couch, and both men stopped and swung their heads his way, not even realising he was in the room until that point, “looks like our boy is about to make his grand entrance...”

And with that they all stopped and fixed their eyes on the television.

______________

Samantha had told Face to park at the lot around the corner from the Police Station and walk in rather than use the underground car park; she’d said he would be less conspicuous that way and then she would meet him inside. So Face followed her instructions, but as soon as he was in sight of the huge grey building looming up out of the sidewalk like a pregnant whale, he began to wonder if it had been the right choice. There must have been upwards of twenty News crews camped outside the steps to the Station, and the second Face rounded the corner and froze, they spotted him. For the briefest of moments he considered just turning and legging it, but this was supposed to be the first day of his new life as a free man and he didn’t want to start it running, so he took a deep breath and forced himself to carry on walking.

The crowds of newshounds were like nothing Face had ever experienced before. They were in his face, fighting and pushing amongst themselves to shove a camera or a microphone at him, asking him personal and impertinent questions, doubting his innocence, asking him for details of where the rest of the team were hiding, shoving at him, clamouring right into his personal space and Face was starting to get antsy. He balled his fists and ducked his head and tried to force his body to remember that these were news reporters, US citizens just trying to make a living. They weren’t Iraqi insurgents or the Taliban and he wasn’t in any danger, not really. He just had to keep his mouth shut like Samantha had told him and keep walking.

But then he looked up, right up into the face of the Police Station, the crest huge on the old grey stone above the double doors and years of running and hiding suddenly slammed into him with such force that his feet just stopped working.

Back in the warehouse, Hannibal leaned forward from where he was perched on the arm on the sofa and took in a sharp breath. He could just about make out Face’s head in the aerial shot from the helicopter (he couldn’t believe they actually had a helicopter out there for goodness sake) and could see how he was being pushed and jostled and knew, just knew, how that would be affecting his XO. And then he saw him look up and grind to an abrupt halt, so abrupt that some of the news pack that was following him actually ran into his back and a sick feeling of dread settled in the put of his stomach. “He’s gonna bolt...” he whispered and edged even further, almost as if he could help his boy by simply being closer to the screen.

Face swallowed hard as he looked up and felt the familiar physical effects of adrenalin as they rushed through his body. Fight or flight, fight or flight, which one should it be?

Hannibal was dealing with his own adrenalin rush at the same time, “Don’t do it, kid,” he whispered to himself, “just keep walking, get inside, come on, don’t do it.”

Face’s palms were sweating and his knees had a curious jello-like consistently to them, but he still found he couldn’t force them to move forward. He realised with a sickening jolt that he was scared, actually, genuinely, terrified and felt the flush of shame as it ran up his neck. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t just walk straight back into the lion’s den like this, what was he thinking? Of course this pardon was a pile of shite, it had to be. When had things ever run this smooth for him? He didn’t want to go back to prison... The memories from his juvie days reared up at this most inopportune of moments and he felt the familiar sickening swoop of humiliation, it was almost as if he could hear their taunts, feel their fists on him, smell the semen. He couldn’t do this, he needed Hannibal with him, like a damn pathetic child he could not do this without Hannibal’s strength alongside him, but Hannibal would never be free to do this, Face’s freedom was being bought with another nail in Hannibal’s guilt. What the hell was he thinking?

Hannibal could hear the voices of the anchormen in the studio talking over the live images of Face frozen in the street and his anger was starting to build at the things they were saying about his boy, the child he’d discovered already in the army out in the Kuwaiti desert, looking, not for a life, but a way to die. Hannibal had taken that child, given him a reason to live, a home, a family, a sense of pride, a realisation of the all the fantastic things that he was capable of. He’d helped him bury his demons, fight back when the government he served tried to throw him away and rediscover his sense of purpose in a world turned upside down. There was nothing Hannibal would not do for his boy, a man now in every sense of the word and a damn fine one, but he would always be Hannibal’s boy, always, and he felt his hackles rising now at the slanderous words.

“Does make you wonder doesn’t it, Rusty, just how innocent Peck really is if he can’t even bring himself to walk into a Police station!”

False, put-on laughter scraped down Hannibal’s nerves like nails on a chalk board and he gritted his teeth. “Well, it does! But then Mike, some of the stories we’ve heard about this ‘A-Team’ of his, shoot outs, car chases... Only a criminal would ever choose to live that way right?”

Hannibal slowly rose to his feet, fists clenched.

“Mr. Peck,” back on the street, Face was still staring up at the doors, trying hard to control his breathing, trying to imagine Hannibal next to him, his friend and mentor ordering him to breathe calmly, in through his nose, out through his mouth, he knew he couldn’t afford a meltdown in front of all these cameras... “Is it true that your Colonel Smith has been working alongside the mob boss Gianni Revello? That he was actually responsible for the murders of those undercover cops last month?”

That got Face’s attention, as it was designed to. No one thought for one second that the murders of the four undercover police operatives had anything to do with the A-Team, but the reporter had wanted a reaction, and it seemed as though he was going to get it.

“What?” Face snapped, his eyes and his voice hard.

“Rumours are that your Smith is branching out into contract work,” the reporter adlibbed, “times are hard, money is short. Everyone understands at bit of diversification Mr. Peck.”

Face took a step forward, right into the guy’s personal space. Right into his microphone. “Listen to me you worthless piece of shit-”

“Face!” and suddenly there was a familiar voice in his ear, a hand, cool and calming on his cheek turning him from the reporter and the never quite forgotten trace of perfume in his nose. “Hey, honey, what’re you doing? Come on, come on in.”

And as a hand, finely boned but strong slipped into his, Face turned and let himself be drawn away from the confrontation, let the accusations fall on deaf ears now and follow his guide up the steps and through the double doors to the lion’s den.

“Who was that? What just happened there?” Murdock asked, leaning so far forward in his seat his nose was almost on the glass of the ancient TV.

“Man, was that Sosa?” BA asked incredulously.

Hannibal watched as Face finally disappeared through the doors and sank back down onto the sofa arm with a sigh as he rubbed over his face. “Yeah, it was,” he answered, his voice hoarse, “and I think that is quite possibly the very first time I have ever been pleased to see that woman.”

____________

Sosa kept tight hold of Face’s hand as she pulled him straight through the lobby of the station and into the back office that had been set aside for this circus today. She wasn’t even supposed to be here, her department had known nothing at all about this ‘pardon’ until they’d heard it on the news along with the rest of the world, and her new boss, Colonel Roderick Decker, had been almost crazy with rage. But she’d wanted to come down and see Face, hadn’t seen him to talk to for almost six months, knew that Father Magill’s death would have hit him hard, and then all this business about the pardon...

She told herself regularly that she wasn’t interested in Face anymore, that she felt no draw to him, no connection at all, but he had been a huge part of her life once, he didn’t deserve the way he’d been treated all these years and she just wanted to see him, look out for him a bit, make sure he was okay. And she was glad she had. When she’d heard the commotion outside and looked out of the window she’d picked him out instantly, looking elegant and casual in a dark grey suit, waistcoat, white shirt, no tie; just that hint of stubble and the blue of his eyes almost reaching her from the sidewalk. But then she had seen the expression he wore and knew instantly they were heading for trouble. She’d seen that look on his face countless times in the past, usually just after someone called Murdock some derogatory name and usually just before a fist fight broke out. He couldn’t do that here, not now; he’d be back in jail so fast he wouldn’t know what hit him.

So she’d gone out, managed to get to him just in time, heard what that idiot reporter was saying to him and pulled him away, brought him in and hoped to hell that she wouldn’t live to regret her actions one day.

As the door swung closed behind them, Face blinked in the bright light of the back room and Sosa dropped his hand as Samantha, power suit and four inch heels rushed up to him, kissing him on both cheeks and beaming at him. “Templeton!” Sosa narrowed her eyes at the way Samantha’s hands lingered on Face’s hips, “You made it, brilliant! Let’s get this show on the road!”

“Did you think he wouldn’t make it?” Sosa’s cutting voice surprised even herself as she got her reply in before Face managed his. “Perhaps if you had told him to park underground so he didn’t have to run that gauntlet of hyenas out there, he might have made it a bit easier.” She smiled sweetly as everyone in the room turned to stare at her.

“And you are?” Samantha asked coldly.

“My guardian angel,” Face interjected smoothly winking at Sosa across the room and a few people laughed, glad at the deflection of the obvious tension between the two women.

“Lovely,” Samantha replied brightly and with absolutely no sincerity, “but I feel that your services will not be needed around here anymore, Captain, I am perfectly capable of meeting all of Templeton’s needs.” Sosa lifted an eyebrow in reply and Face sniggered; she caught his eye and smirked back, knowing they were both thinking the same thing and was pleased to see that he had at least recovered his equilibrium. “You can go.”

But this time it was a gruff voice from the doorway that answered her, “I think we will stay thank you,” and Face rolled his eyes at the appearance of Col. Decker as Decker turned his hard gaze onto him. “This pardon is a piece of crap, Peck, and I for one will be staying right on your ass just waiting until you put your little toe out of line. Got that?”

Face smiled benignly. “Come near me, Major, and I’ll have my lawyers slap a restraining order on you so fast you won’t know what hit you. You got that?”

Decker seemed to change colour four maybe five times in the ten seconds he stared at Face before he could answer. “It’s Colonel now, son!” and as Face raised his eyebrows in mock surprise Decker realised he’d been played and went for the killer shot in retaliation. “And just because you might be too slippery for me to get hold of just now Peck, doesn’t mean that I won’t be watching you. Doesn’t mean that I don't know you will still meet up with Smith and the others eventually. And when you do,” he clicked his finger right in front of Face’s nose, “I will have them back behind bars faster than you can shout ‘Run!’ You got that then?”

Face didn't shift a single muscle and made sure that his expression was completely blank. There was no way on earth that he was going to let Decker know how much he had rattled him. He hadn’t even considered that the military would try to use him to get hold of the others, not thought about that at all and the whole idea made him physically sick. But instead he allowed the silence to build just long enough for Decker’s eye to start twitching before he whispered, “In your dreams, Rod. You’ve come up against Hannibal plenty of times in the past. Afghanistan I believe was the last time just after your boys blew up that school? And he always whoops your ass. If I was you I would get myself some padded panties,” and then he turned and walked off, winking at Sosa, who was trying valiantly not to laugh, before addressing Samantha pleasantly. “Shall we?” he asked offering her his arm, “I do believe there is a pardon somewhere with my name on it?”

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