Manipulation - Chapter Five
Oct. 9th, 2011 09:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
indigo_angelsAN: Posting this here as the original chapter five has vanished... Gremlins!
It took about twenty minutes to get himself back together, so by the time he stepped out of the shower, the en-suite was like a sauna and he had a bad case of prune hands. He wrapped his head and his hips in towels, smiling as he remembered how BA always teased him about his ‘girl’s towel hat’ and stepped back into the bedroom.
He plonked the bag back down on the bed and started routing around for a clean pair of boxers, his mind on the boys and what they would be doing now. He glanced over at the bedside clock, 23.20, they’d still be up, probably having a beer... and his eyes drifted to the phone on the nightstand.
“Doesn’t mean that I don't know you will still meet up with Smith and the others eventually. And when you do I will have them back behind bars faster than you can shout ‘Run!”
Decker’s threat, no, not threat, promise, echoed in his head as if the man himself was stood right next to him and his heart dropped as he realised that there was no way he could call the team. As much as it was Samantha that had got him this place and she obviously had no love lost for the army, he wouldn’t put it past Decker to be tapping this line, his eyes fell on the pocket of his jacket where he knew his mobile was nestled, or even monitoring mobile calls out of this location. He sighed heavily, his little breakdown in the shower hadn’t helped at all, instead it had simple created a huge empty space in his chest that made every single breath a struggle.
He sat down heavily on the bed and wondered how long it would be before it was safe to contact the team again. Six days? Six weeks? Six months? Never? How could he cope? How long would he have to be by himself again? Surely there had to be some way around this, in this day of modern technology? He rubbed at his face as he thought. Maybe a text message would be safer? Could that be traced like a mobile phone call? He thought it probably could. So... email? That seemed a definite possibility only thing was, he’d left his laptop with the team. It had seemed a bit churlish to take it with him when it had all their finances and records on it. So... cyber cafe? Risky... He could just go and buy a new laptop? Yeah, no reason why not now he was a free man, but that would take time. Unless... he suddenly remembered the PDA, maybe that had internet access, and he was fairly sure the army didn’t know about it so – yeah!
He jumped to his feet, feeling more positive than he had all day and made his way over to the dresser where he’d thrown the PDA on his way to the bathroom. His hand was already stretching out, his brain already composing his message when he realised that there was a serious hitch to his plan, the PDA had gone.
It took Face all of half a second to process the implications of that thought; PDA’s didn’t walk about on their own, someone had been in here and taken it, someone had been in his apartment, and in true Goldilocks fashion, that someone might still be here now. He yanked the turban from his head and his gun was in his hand before he’d even thought about it, then he was pressed up against the wall next to the door into the main room, wishing he was wearing something more substantial than a towel, his ears straining to pick up the tiniest little sound and his heart pounding hard. He leaned forward and peered in. Nothing.
He was just about to go in, make a dash for the cover of the sofa, when a noise over near the windows, caught his attention. He froze and leaned out as far as he dared, trying to use the reflection in the floor to ceiling glass to see if anyone was there, and then he saw it. A figure standing right in the corner of the room, back to the door where Face was, partially hidden by the drapes, shrouded in shadows. Face checked the safety was off his gun, took a deep breath and stalked quickly out into the middle of the room.
“Freeze, asshole,” he hissed, “and lift your hands real slow as you turn around.”
The figure startled and then froze, slowly, slowly lifting his arms out of the shadows.
“Turn around,” Face reminded him, and the figure started to move, turning almost one hundred and eighty degrees before finally speaking.
“I think I liked you much better when you were a criminal...”
And Face almost collapsed in a heap on the carpet, “Murdock!”
The gun was forgotten, dropped on the floor, and Face started towards his friend, a feeling of warmth, joy, relief, comfort, he wasn’t quite sure what it was, bursting up inside him. But then that picture of Murdock in the garage as Face backed his car out – only yesterday – flared in his head and he froze, suddenly unsure of his welcome. Murdock, who had also been making for Face, stopped as well and they looked at each other, much more than two meters of carpet separating them.
For once in his life, Face was at a loss as to what to say to Murdock. It was strange, communication with this man had always been the easiest thing in the world for him, he never had to think about what to say, he was always just content for his mouth to open and everything to slide out. But now...
The door from the kitchen opening behind him cut a fire-break through the tension and both men looked up, Face turning on the spot to find Hannibal and BA wandering out, deep in conversation, a bottle of beer in each hand.
“Hey, kid!” Hannibal greeted him as he saw Face standing there. “You done? That was a pretty quick shower by your standards, only,” he looked at his watch, “thirty five minutes by my time!”
Everyone laughed, the length of time that Face would stay in the shower given half the chance was a running joke for them all, and one that he usually joined in with. But talk of the shower only brought back to Face exactly what he had been doing in there for all that time, and the thought that the team had heard him, either chanting Hannibal’s name as he came or crying like a baby afterwards, was enough to sever the last thread of patience he had with this god awful day.
“What the fuck are you all doing here?” he hissed.
Hannibal and BA instantly stopped, their smiles and laughter morphing into hard stares; no one had noticed that Murdock had never laughed in the first place.
“Came to see if you were okay,” Hannibal replied, his tone now short and brusque. “You looked a little – worn – outside the cop shop today.”
Face inwardly winced, mortified that they had been able to see how close to the edge he had been, how near to losing control. “I’m fine,” he snapped. “Or at least I will be unless they find you lot in here.”
“Oh, yeah!” Murdock found his voice again as he wandered over to where Hannibal and BA stood, the beers forgotten in their hands. “Wouldn’t want to be caught fraternising with <i>criminals</i> in your recently <i>innocent</i> state now would you?”
Flushing awkwardly, Face tightened the towel around his hips, horrifically aware that now Murdock had moved to Hannibal’s side, the three of them now facing him on his own, a three and a one, the team divided as it had never been before. “That’s not what I meant,” he ground out, trying to make this sound convincing, knowing it was for their own safety that they understood. “Rod Decker was there today when I got my –” he stuttered to a halt.
“Pardon, Face. You can say it,” Hannibal interjected laconically.
Face flushed again, “Pardon,” he continued through gritted teeth. “He’s obviously been given the job of hunting us – you – down now.”
“I know,” Hannibal answered, he’d seen him at Father Magill’s funeral but he didn’t think this was a good time to bring that fact up.
“Well,” Face took a few steps backwards, back towards his bedroom, suddenly nervous in the company of his own team... “he’s got personal reasons to get hold of us now,” old habits die hard, “and especially you colonel. And he said he was going to be watching me, knew I would get in contact with you sometime and then he would pick you up! How do you know he’s not on his way up here right now with shit load of MPs?”
Hannibal shrugged and leaned against the counter, “Because you didn’t contact us did you, kid?” Face wasn’t sure if there was an accusation in that sentence, “And I’m fairly sure he has no idea where you are - yet.”
That was news to Face, he felt certain that Decker would have made sure that he was tracked very, very thoroughly from the second he walked out of that police station. Nevertheless, he narrowed his eyes at Hannibal, “Happy it’s not all a big con then, Hannibal?”
The boss took a big swig of beer as he considered his answer, “I never thought it was Decker out to get you,” he answered quietly, holding Face’s eye.
“Oh, this is crazy!” It was crazy, that all Face had wanted, more than anything else, was to see the team, his friends, his family and they had come, come to see him despite the danger that held for them. But now? All he wanted was for them to go; they would never understand this, understand him. “Look guys, stay as long as you want, drink all the beer you like, but I’m going to bed. I’ve got an early start in the morning.”
He waved a hand in farewell and turned, fully intent and leaving them to it when Murdock’s icy voice stopped him in his tracks, “You got a meeting about your movie, then?”
Face slowly turned back and noticed for the first time the PDA nestled in Murdock’s hand. He’d read enough of that damn stupid script to know exactly what the guys would think about it... He frowned, “What the hell you think you are doing taking that from my room, Murdock? Give it back!” He snatched towards the PDA, but Murdock yanked it back out of his reach just as Face knew he would and so he stood with his hands on the damp towel around his hips and glared instead.
Hannibal and BA looked on in confusion. “What you got Murdock?” Hannibal asked, his voice low and even.
“Murdock...” Face warned, but Murdock’s face was set in a dark frown.
“Oh, it’s a movie script, boss! All about our Facey here, you’d just love it!”
“Murdock!” Face’s temper was really starting to bubble.
Hannibal looked between Murdock’s bitter expression and Face’s rising temper, “Yeah? I always wanted to have an A-Team movie one day! Who do you think they’d get to play me?”
BA let out a long sigh as he looked at Face who was positively vibrating with anger now and muttered, “Leave it, you two,” under his breath.
“Ah, that’s not a problem, Colonel, sir; you don't have to worry about anyone playin’ you.”
“No?” Hannibal’s surprise was faked, he’d obviously already worked out where was heading.
“No,” Murdock’s eyes were on Face who now had his fists clenched almost as tight as his jaw as he glared back. “Because we’re not in it are we, Face?”
“It’s not meant to be an A-Team movie,” Face hissed out at him, “it’s meant to be about me.”
Hannibal whistled dramatically, “Plenty of material there as well, eh, kid? Though are you sure you really want the whole world to see all the fucked up shit you’ve been involved with in your days?”
That hurt like a punch to the gut, and Face just stared at Hannibal but he and Murdock were right in the middle of an Abbott and Costello routine and were past noticing Face’s expression. “Don’t worry about that, boss!” Murdock added as his part of the sketch, “Seems like there’s loads of hero stuff in here that Face has done all on his own.”
“Give me that!” Face snarled, snatching ineffectively at the PDA again.
“Like what, Captain?”
BA shook his head, “Hannibal, leave it man, this is crazy...” but both Hannibal and Murdock ignored him.
“Loads of stuff! Here, listen to this,”
“Murdock!” Face snapped.
“Scene: Tumbledown village in Iraqi desert filled with heavily armed and mean looking terrorists. Enter Captain Peck, all alone, riding on a tank from the desert. In full camouflage gear and heavily armed.
TERROIST ONE (with look of horror on his face): Oh, my god it is that lone American hero, the one who takes down entire villages!”
It was clear that Murdock wanted to continue reading but had to stop as a fit of laughter almost choked him. Hannibal also joined in with the laughter although he also seemed more than a little put out. “That tank gig? That was team effort if I remember rightly. You might have scammed it Face, but BA needed to get it going and Murdock here was the one who drove it. And who do you think even found that damn village?”
“I know,” Face muttered, “I didn’t write the damn script!”
“And anyway!” Murdock added, “How the hell you drivin’ the thing if you ridin’ on top?”
“I didn’t fucking write it!” Face repeated, his eyes flashing in anger.
“And since when was he a Captain, Captain? I don’t remember that particular promotion lasting any longer than about five minutes!”
“Guys...” BA warned.
“And how many Muslims have you met, boss, who say, ‘Oh my god!’?” Murdock mocked in a shrill voice.
Hannibal laughed, “You know what I like though?” he asked, “My personal favourite is the ‘lone American hero who can take down villages on his own’. The only thing I remember our lieutenant taking down on his own were his pants on a Saturday night...”
Hannibal and Murdock collapsed into hysterical laughter as Face finally exploded. “I said I didn’t write that stuff!” he yelled, “Why the fuck don’t you stop acting like a pair of pricks and listen to me!”
That worked. They both looked his way, but only just managed to choke back the laughter. “All right, Facey...” Murdock soothed, but his cheeks were still twitching, “we were only havin’ a joke.”
“Yeah?” BA growled, leaning over and snatching the PDA from Murdock’s hand. “Seems to me a joke’s only funny if you laughin’ with someone, not at ‘em. Here bro,” he threw the PDA over to Face who caught it and immediately retreated towards his bedroom with a brief nod of thanks to the corporal.
“Face,” Hannibal stepped forward, his brow wrinkled as he seemed to notice the distress in Face’s eyes for the first time, “joke...”
Face shook his head. He could take a joke as well as the next guy; you had to be able to do that if you were going to survive the army, but that? No. Not fucking funny. “I’m going to bed,” he muttered, turning his back to them again, “let yourselves out.” And even as Hannibal took another step towards him he slipped through the door and closed it, turning the lock behind him as he dropped the wet towel onto the floor and crawled naked under the duvet, wanting nothing more than this entire appalling day just to end.
Next
It took about twenty minutes to get himself back together, so by the time he stepped out of the shower, the en-suite was like a sauna and he had a bad case of prune hands. He wrapped his head and his hips in towels, smiling as he remembered how BA always teased him about his ‘girl’s towel hat’ and stepped back into the bedroom.
He plonked the bag back down on the bed and started routing around for a clean pair of boxers, his mind on the boys and what they would be doing now. He glanced over at the bedside clock, 23.20, they’d still be up, probably having a beer... and his eyes drifted to the phone on the nightstand.
“Doesn’t mean that I don't know you will still meet up with Smith and the others eventually. And when you do I will have them back behind bars faster than you can shout ‘Run!”
Decker’s threat, no, not threat, promise, echoed in his head as if the man himself was stood right next to him and his heart dropped as he realised that there was no way he could call the team. As much as it was Samantha that had got him this place and she obviously had no love lost for the army, he wouldn’t put it past Decker to be tapping this line, his eyes fell on the pocket of his jacket where he knew his mobile was nestled, or even monitoring mobile calls out of this location. He sighed heavily, his little breakdown in the shower hadn’t helped at all, instead it had simple created a huge empty space in his chest that made every single breath a struggle.
He sat down heavily on the bed and wondered how long it would be before it was safe to contact the team again. Six days? Six weeks? Six months? Never? How could he cope? How long would he have to be by himself again? Surely there had to be some way around this, in this day of modern technology? He rubbed at his face as he thought. Maybe a text message would be safer? Could that be traced like a mobile phone call? He thought it probably could. So... email? That seemed a definite possibility only thing was, he’d left his laptop with the team. It had seemed a bit churlish to take it with him when it had all their finances and records on it. So... cyber cafe? Risky... He could just go and buy a new laptop? Yeah, no reason why not now he was a free man, but that would take time. Unless... he suddenly remembered the PDA, maybe that had internet access, and he was fairly sure the army didn’t know about it so – yeah!
He jumped to his feet, feeling more positive than he had all day and made his way over to the dresser where he’d thrown the PDA on his way to the bathroom. His hand was already stretching out, his brain already composing his message when he realised that there was a serious hitch to his plan, the PDA had gone.
It took Face all of half a second to process the implications of that thought; PDA’s didn’t walk about on their own, someone had been in here and taken it, someone had been in his apartment, and in true Goldilocks fashion, that someone might still be here now. He yanked the turban from his head and his gun was in his hand before he’d even thought about it, then he was pressed up against the wall next to the door into the main room, wishing he was wearing something more substantial than a towel, his ears straining to pick up the tiniest little sound and his heart pounding hard. He leaned forward and peered in. Nothing.
He was just about to go in, make a dash for the cover of the sofa, when a noise over near the windows, caught his attention. He froze and leaned out as far as he dared, trying to use the reflection in the floor to ceiling glass to see if anyone was there, and then he saw it. A figure standing right in the corner of the room, back to the door where Face was, partially hidden by the drapes, shrouded in shadows. Face checked the safety was off his gun, took a deep breath and stalked quickly out into the middle of the room.
“Freeze, asshole,” he hissed, “and lift your hands real slow as you turn around.”
The figure startled and then froze, slowly, slowly lifting his arms out of the shadows.
“Turn around,” Face reminded him, and the figure started to move, turning almost one hundred and eighty degrees before finally speaking.
“I think I liked you much better when you were a criminal...”
And Face almost collapsed in a heap on the carpet, “Murdock!”
The gun was forgotten, dropped on the floor, and Face started towards his friend, a feeling of warmth, joy, relief, comfort, he wasn’t quite sure what it was, bursting up inside him. But then that picture of Murdock in the garage as Face backed his car out – only yesterday – flared in his head and he froze, suddenly unsure of his welcome. Murdock, who had also been making for Face, stopped as well and they looked at each other, much more than two meters of carpet separating them.
For once in his life, Face was at a loss as to what to say to Murdock. It was strange, communication with this man had always been the easiest thing in the world for him, he never had to think about what to say, he was always just content for his mouth to open and everything to slide out. But now...
The door from the kitchen opening behind him cut a fire-break through the tension and both men looked up, Face turning on the spot to find Hannibal and BA wandering out, deep in conversation, a bottle of beer in each hand.
“Hey, kid!” Hannibal greeted him as he saw Face standing there. “You done? That was a pretty quick shower by your standards, only,” he looked at his watch, “thirty five minutes by my time!”
Everyone laughed, the length of time that Face would stay in the shower given half the chance was a running joke for them all, and one that he usually joined in with. But talk of the shower only brought back to Face exactly what he had been doing in there for all that time, and the thought that the team had heard him, either chanting Hannibal’s name as he came or crying like a baby afterwards, was enough to sever the last thread of patience he had with this god awful day.
“What the fuck are you all doing here?” he hissed.
Hannibal and BA instantly stopped, their smiles and laughter morphing into hard stares; no one had noticed that Murdock had never laughed in the first place.
“Came to see if you were okay,” Hannibal replied, his tone now short and brusque. “You looked a little – worn – outside the cop shop today.”
Face inwardly winced, mortified that they had been able to see how close to the edge he had been, how near to losing control. “I’m fine,” he snapped. “Or at least I will be unless they find you lot in here.”
“Oh, yeah!” Murdock found his voice again as he wandered over to where Hannibal and BA stood, the beers forgotten in their hands. “Wouldn’t want to be caught fraternising with <i>criminals</i> in your recently <i>innocent</i> state now would you?”
Flushing awkwardly, Face tightened the towel around his hips, horrifically aware that now Murdock had moved to Hannibal’s side, the three of them now facing him on his own, a three and a one, the team divided as it had never been before. “That’s not what I meant,” he ground out, trying to make this sound convincing, knowing it was for their own safety that they understood. “Rod Decker was there today when I got my –” he stuttered to a halt.
“Pardon, Face. You can say it,” Hannibal interjected laconically.
Face flushed again, “Pardon,” he continued through gritted teeth. “He’s obviously been given the job of hunting us – you – down now.”
“I know,” Hannibal answered, he’d seen him at Father Magill’s funeral but he didn’t think this was a good time to bring that fact up.
“Well,” Face took a few steps backwards, back towards his bedroom, suddenly nervous in the company of his own team... “he’s got personal reasons to get hold of us now,” old habits die hard, “and especially you colonel. And he said he was going to be watching me, knew I would get in contact with you sometime and then he would pick you up! How do you know he’s not on his way up here right now with shit load of MPs?”
Hannibal shrugged and leaned against the counter, “Because you didn’t contact us did you, kid?” Face wasn’t sure if there was an accusation in that sentence, “And I’m fairly sure he has no idea where you are - yet.”
That was news to Face, he felt certain that Decker would have made sure that he was tracked very, very thoroughly from the second he walked out of that police station. Nevertheless, he narrowed his eyes at Hannibal, “Happy it’s not all a big con then, Hannibal?”
The boss took a big swig of beer as he considered his answer, “I never thought it was Decker out to get you,” he answered quietly, holding Face’s eye.
“Oh, this is crazy!” It was crazy, that all Face had wanted, more than anything else, was to see the team, his friends, his family and they had come, come to see him despite the danger that held for them. But now? All he wanted was for them to go; they would never understand this, understand him. “Look guys, stay as long as you want, drink all the beer you like, but I’m going to bed. I’ve got an early start in the morning.”
He waved a hand in farewell and turned, fully intent and leaving them to it when Murdock’s icy voice stopped him in his tracks, “You got a meeting about your movie, then?”
Face slowly turned back and noticed for the first time the PDA nestled in Murdock’s hand. He’d read enough of that damn stupid script to know exactly what the guys would think about it... He frowned, “What the hell you think you are doing taking that from my room, Murdock? Give it back!” He snatched towards the PDA, but Murdock yanked it back out of his reach just as Face knew he would and so he stood with his hands on the damp towel around his hips and glared instead.
Hannibal and BA looked on in confusion. “What you got Murdock?” Hannibal asked, his voice low and even.
“Murdock...” Face warned, but Murdock’s face was set in a dark frown.
“Oh, it’s a movie script, boss! All about our Facey here, you’d just love it!”
“Murdock!” Face’s temper was really starting to bubble.
Hannibal looked between Murdock’s bitter expression and Face’s rising temper, “Yeah? I always wanted to have an A-Team movie one day! Who do you think they’d get to play me?”
BA let out a long sigh as he looked at Face who was positively vibrating with anger now and muttered, “Leave it, you two,” under his breath.
“Ah, that’s not a problem, Colonel, sir; you don't have to worry about anyone playin’ you.”
“No?” Hannibal’s surprise was faked, he’d obviously already worked out where was heading.
“No,” Murdock’s eyes were on Face who now had his fists clenched almost as tight as his jaw as he glared back. “Because we’re not in it are we, Face?”
“It’s not meant to be an A-Team movie,” Face hissed out at him, “it’s meant to be about me.”
Hannibal whistled dramatically, “Plenty of material there as well, eh, kid? Though are you sure you really want the whole world to see all the fucked up shit you’ve been involved with in your days?”
That hurt like a punch to the gut, and Face just stared at Hannibal but he and Murdock were right in the middle of an Abbott and Costello routine and were past noticing Face’s expression. “Don’t worry about that, boss!” Murdock added as his part of the sketch, “Seems like there’s loads of hero stuff in here that Face has done all on his own.”
“Give me that!” Face snarled, snatching ineffectively at the PDA again.
“Like what, Captain?”
BA shook his head, “Hannibal, leave it man, this is crazy...” but both Hannibal and Murdock ignored him.
“Loads of stuff! Here, listen to this,”
“Murdock!” Face snapped.
“Scene: Tumbledown village in Iraqi desert filled with heavily armed and mean looking terrorists. Enter Captain Peck, all alone, riding on a tank from the desert. In full camouflage gear and heavily armed.
TERROIST ONE (with look of horror on his face): Oh, my god it is that lone American hero, the one who takes down entire villages!”
It was clear that Murdock wanted to continue reading but had to stop as a fit of laughter almost choked him. Hannibal also joined in with the laughter although he also seemed more than a little put out. “That tank gig? That was team effort if I remember rightly. You might have scammed it Face, but BA needed to get it going and Murdock here was the one who drove it. And who do you think even found that damn village?”
“I know,” Face muttered, “I didn’t write the damn script!”
“And anyway!” Murdock added, “How the hell you drivin’ the thing if you ridin’ on top?”
“I didn’t fucking write it!” Face repeated, his eyes flashing in anger.
“And since when was he a Captain, Captain? I don’t remember that particular promotion lasting any longer than about five minutes!”
“Guys...” BA warned.
“And how many Muslims have you met, boss, who say, ‘Oh my god!’?” Murdock mocked in a shrill voice.
Hannibal laughed, “You know what I like though?” he asked, “My personal favourite is the ‘lone American hero who can take down villages on his own’. The only thing I remember our lieutenant taking down on his own were his pants on a Saturday night...”
Hannibal and Murdock collapsed into hysterical laughter as Face finally exploded. “I said I didn’t write that stuff!” he yelled, “Why the fuck don’t you stop acting like a pair of pricks and listen to me!”
That worked. They both looked his way, but only just managed to choke back the laughter. “All right, Facey...” Murdock soothed, but his cheeks were still twitching, “we were only havin’ a joke.”
“Yeah?” BA growled, leaning over and snatching the PDA from Murdock’s hand. “Seems to me a joke’s only funny if you laughin’ with someone, not at ‘em. Here bro,” he threw the PDA over to Face who caught it and immediately retreated towards his bedroom with a brief nod of thanks to the corporal.
“Face,” Hannibal stepped forward, his brow wrinkled as he seemed to notice the distress in Face’s eyes for the first time, “joke...”
Face shook his head. He could take a joke as well as the next guy; you had to be able to do that if you were going to survive the army, but that? No. Not fucking funny. “I’m going to bed,” he muttered, turning his back to them again, “let yourselves out.” And even as Hannibal took another step towards him he slipped through the door and closed it, turning the lock behind him as he dropped the wet towel onto the floor and crawled naked under the duvet, wanting nothing more than this entire appalling day just to end.
Next
