First Impressions - Hannibal & Face

[indigo_angels]

First Impressions AKA: Five Times Hannibal Smith Began to Suspect He May Have Been Wrong About Lt. Peck and One Time He Definitely Knew He Was

 

Introduction

“No way on this earth!” Major John ‘Hannibal’ Smith thrust the transfer order back towards Colonel Mick McGrath and shook his head to further emphasise his point. “I told you, Mick, I’m sick of you sending me lame ducks all the time! What am I suppose to be running here? A Ranger unit or a fucking crèche?”

 

McGrath sighed, he knew this was never going to be easy, “Look John,” his tone was placating, “Maybe he’s not as bad as you’ve heard, Sanders is on his way over now to give us an update.”

 

That news added nothing to Hannibal’s mood, the KFC Colonel, as all the boys called him was one of Hannibal’s least favourite men, “Him?” he muttered almost in an undertone, “He’s a fucking half wit…”

 

McGrath raised a disapproving eyebrow but Hannibal was saved from his retort by a sharp knock at the door and a tall, burly man with close cropped but unmistakably red hair marched into the room. Hannibal and McGrath both stood around 6’4” and were used to looking down on most people in the force, Sanders, however, most unlike his chicken frying namesake, was at least 6’6” and just seemed to own any room he walked into. That was only one of the reasons Hannibal didn’t like him.

 

“Mick, Smith,” he nodded to the two men with a thin and snarky smile of his face, (another reason), before he turned to lounge against the edge of the desk. “I see you’ve agreed to take Peck off my hands then? Or I would imagine you haven’t had much say in the matter…” That smarmy smile was there again and Hannibal felt his blood heat.

 

“I haven’t agreed to anything yet, sir,” Hannibal hated having to give this prick his title; “The colonel here and I were just discussing it.”

 

“Hmmm,” Sanders folded his arms, “Well I can see why you wouldn’t be too keen on having him along for the ride, the boy is a right royal pain in the ass. He doesn’t follow orders, his attitude stinks, he answers back, he stirs trouble in the unit, the other boys can’t stand him…” he shakes his head, “Pain in the ass.”

 

McGrath rolls his eyes as he takes in Hannibal’s set expression, “Well, thanks for that Sanders, most helpful,” he turns back to his Major, “C’mon, Hannibal, you know you are good with boys like this one. Remember Taylor?”

 

Sanders laughs, “Peck is nothing like Taylor, Mick, I guarantee it! Once Taylor had a night in the stockade he was putty in your hands. Peck? He’s got a fucking season ticket in there; he comes out twice as fucking obnoxious as he went in!”

 

Hannibal shakes his head again as McGrath pinches the bridge of his nose, but Sanders is on a roll, “Doesn’t even bother him to take a gut-punching, I swear, that boy is as arrogant as they come…”

 

Hannibal and McGrath exchange a quick look, they both know that corporal punishment happens, but it’s certainly not meant to be condoned by the officers, “Dick…” Hannibal mutters under his breath.

 

Although he doesn’t hear the word spoken, Hannibal’s voice brings Sanders’ attention back onto him, and his thin lips break out into a condescending smile, “So, Smith, my report helped you make up your mind then? Think you can perform another miracle on him like you did with Taylor?” It’s obvious from the snarky voice that Sanders resents every success Hannibal has ever had.

 

Hannibal ignores him and turns back to his CO, “Don’t force this one on me Mick,” he pleads, “He’s a lost cause, I don’t have time for this. I’ve read his file; all he does is fuck-up and screw around. I’ve got a lot of impressionable boys in my unit; I don’t need his type setting the wrong kind of example.”

 

“John,” McGrath’s tone is almost apologetic, “Look, I’ve not got much room to move here, the brass have

paid out a lot of money to train that boy as a Ranger, and they want to see some return on their investment. It’s not a good use of resources just to boot him out on his ear.”

 

“That’s where he’s going,” Sanders interrupts, “and if I’ve told him that once I’ve told him a million times.”

 

Irritation flares in Hannibal, he’s actually starting to feel a bit sorry for Peck, having this ass-hole as his CO, no wonder he’s never been able to hold it together. “You did eh Sanders? I can see you’ve put a lot of effort into the boy there,”

 

Sanders’ eyes flash in anger, “Don’t try to pull that one Smith, it’s not just me that has had enough of Peck, three other units threw him out before I was saddled with him!”

 

Hannibal raises an eye at McGrath who reluctantly nods back, “It’s true. You really are his last chance, John. He’s looking at a dishonourable discharge if you can’t sort him out.”

 

“I can’t sort him out!” Hannibal explodes, “And I don’t even want to try. He’s reckless, useless, irresponsible, arrogant, selfish… hell; even the other boys can’t stand him!” He shakes his head, “I’ve no time for him Mick, don’t force this fuck-up onto me.”

 

McGrath rubs a hand slowly across his forehead. “Hannibal – I’m sorry. I’m gonna have to insist on this one…”

 

Hannibal swears under his breath.

 

“The brass want results, you’re the only option we have left.”

 

Hannibal turns to the door, “Six weeks!” he snaps at McGrath, “I will give him six weeks and that’s all! If he’s not got himself court martialled by then, then I want him removing from my unit!”

 

Sanders smiles his stupid smile once more while McGrath just lets Hannibal vent.

 

He gets to the door and stops with his fingers on the handle, “I will not allow a cancer like him to spread through my boys! We’ve worked too hard for him to fuck it all up!”

 

“We’ll talk about it.” McGrath’s voice is low and steady and Hannibal knows he’s pushed as far as he can today so he slams the handle down and yanks the door open, preparing to storm out, but freezes. There’s a soldier out in the corridor, standing right outside the door. Fair hair and blue eyes, a movie star’s face but with a soldier’s expression, a very pissed off soldier’s expression. Hannibal looks him up and down, his gut turning as realisation slowly dawns; he looks younger than Hannibal had imagined he would, but there is no doubt in his mind that this is the infamous Lt. Peck.

 

“Jesus, kid…” Hannibal feels like shit, “You been standing out here the whole time?”

 

“Yes, sir!” Peck’s reply is perfectly in line with protocol, but Hannibal can hear the insolence in it, just lurking below the surface.

 

“Why?”

 

“Orders sir,” Peck snaps back, “From Colonel Sanders there,”

 

There is something in the way Peck says ‘Colonel Sanders’ that makes Hannibal’s cheeks twitch in amusement, but he quickly bites it down as he turns back into the room, “That right Sanders?” he barks.

 

Sanders’ smile is so wide it looks like its going to split his face in two, “Absolutely, Smith, thought it would do the boy no end of good to hear what we all think of him, don’t you?”

 

Hannibal looks at Peck still standing to attention in the corridor and he notices the tightness of his eyes, the flushed red on his cheeks and the rigid set off his mouth and suddenly feels a wave of sympathy for the kid.

 

He looks behind him one more time; “Sanders, you are a dick-head…” he mutters then stalks past his new team member and back to his quarters. 

 

..1..

The sympathy doesn’t even last two days. It evaporates the exact moment that Hannibal is woken by the piercing phone at his bedside telling him he needs to get down to the brig and sign out his new Second  Lieutenant. It’s 5am.

 

He doesn’t rush, reckons the kid deserves a chance to cool his heels off but it’s still barely light by the time Hannibal is shown into a holding cell. Peck looks like shit. His face is grey and streaked with blood, his lip is split and swollen and his t-shirt is filthy, torn and covered in blood. Not his own Hannibal regretfully notes. At least the kid has enough about him to haul himself up to attention as his CO enters the cell, but that’s little compensation to Hannibal.

 

Hannibal looks him up and down for a moment then deliberately opens the file in his hands and starts reading, even though he knows it off by heart by now. “Picked up in town at 2am outside the Red Dragon Restaurant... Fighting with... /six/...locals...After one of them found you engaged in ‘sexual activity’ with his /wife/ in the car park...” Hannibal can’t help but shake his head at that. “Resisting arrest, foul and abusive language, threatening a civilian police officer and an MP etc. etc. etc.” He looks over at Peck, still standing to attention with his eyes fixed on the far wall. “You sure had a busy night. Got anything to say for yourself then?”

 

Peck shrugs, “Not much of a restaurant I’d say, more of a shitty little takeaway with a few tables...”

 

“Enough!” Hannibal slams the folder down onto the table and takes a forced deep breath. “You don’t seem to realise the trouble you are in here! My unit is the last chance saloon for you kid...”

 

“So I’ve been told...”

 

“And yet you still pull stunts like this! What in hell’s name were you thinking even leaving the base last night? I certainly hadn’t signed any pass out for you. Did you think you were different, special somehow? That you can just piss off any time you fancy a few drinks or a quick fuck?”

 

Anger flashes in Peck’s eyes at that last comment, but his lips stay pressed tight together.

 

Hannibal lets out a long sigh, “I’m disappointed in you. I expected more.”

 

The anger flashes again, but this time Peck’s head snaps round to face his CO, “No you’re not,” he spits, “I heard everything you and Sanders said remember? This is exactly what you expected and exactly what you got!”

 

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Hannibal asks with narrowed eyes.

 

Peck flushes and goes back to starring at the wall with a muttered, “Nothing, sir...”

 

A heavy silence falls as Hannibal runs his eyes over Peck’s service record more. Eventually he lowers himself down onto one of the two wooden chairs in the room and taps his fingers thoughtfully on the table top. “Well, this is it, kid,” he leans back in the chair, eyeing Peck carefully, “this is enough to finally get you thrown out.”

 

He is sure he doesn’t imagine the brief tightening of the kid’s eyes, but then the look of bland insolence is back, “You will be pleased then sir,” there’s no mistaking the tightness of his voice however, “Saves you the bother of waiting six weeks.”

 

There’s a pause as Hannibal studies the young man in front of him, “You been trying to get yourself kicked out then, kid?”   

 

Again that flash of anger, “No, sir!”

 

“You sure about that? Got some skirt at home you want to get back to?”

 

“No, sir!”

 

“Missing your mom?”

 

Another flash, but this time Hannibal can actually see the tension in the kid’s body, the tightly curled fists and the barely reined in temper. Peck turns and meets his CO’s eye again, “No one is waiting for me anywhere,” he bites out.

 

Hannibal looks at him for just a beat then goes back to the file and flicks through the pages of misdemeanours as he ponders this very angry young man in front of him. /Has/ he been deliberately trying to get kicked out? Is he so unhappy with the army that this is the only option? But if that’s the case, why bother with the Ranger training? No one will have forced him into it, in fact, given his disciplinary record it’s a miracle he’d even been accepted. Unless... Hannibal flicks back to his scores, pre and post training. Impressive, there’s no other word for them. Obviously someone has seen some potential in the kid somewhere. Hannibal checks back again to see who signed his acceptance in Ranger school and his lips twitch in a smile of recognition, of course, General Siblinksy, the very same General who had put John Smith through Ranger school all those years ago.

 

Hannibal sighs as he makes his decision and tosses the file down onto the table in front of him, rising to his feet at the same time. “Right, kid, listen to me very carefully, ‘cause this is the deal,” He can see Peck’s eyes slide cautiously over to him, “This is your one and only chance with me, enjoy it ‘cause there sure as hell won’t be another.”

 

The surprise is evident on Peck’s face.

 

“As soon as they kick you out of this place, clean yourself up and report to my quarters. I want you right where I can see you until I can trust you. That clear?”

 

Peck nods tersely.

 

Hannibal steps right into his Lieutenant’s personal space, “And I don’t know what all this was about,” he whispers lethally, “But I will not take any bullshit from the men in my unit. You got a problem with something; you come and talk to me about it or you put up with it. You got that soldier?”

 

Another nod.

 

“I asked you question!” Hannibal roared.

 

“Yes, sir,” Peck’s voice is rough and Hannibal feels that ridiculous surge of sympathy once more.

 

“Well, don’t forget it then...” he snaps and turns on his heels letting the door of the cell slam shut behind him.

 

As he walks back to his quarters with the sun now reaching the top of the mess hall, he thinks back to his first impressions of the kid. Reckless, irresponsible, arrogant, selfish, unpopular... yeah, he would still tick all those boxes, but useless? No way, not on those scores, and not for being able to get off base undetected either, that certainly took some doing. And there’s something else he needs to add to the list as well… Furtive? Enigmatic? Hannibal isn’t sure of the right word for it just yet, but he gets the feeling that there’s definitely more to Lt. Peck than first meets the eye.

Part Two