Title: Prey
Author:
Evan Nicholas
E-Mail:
evan_nicholas1107@yahoo.com
Pairing: Face/Murdock (I'm not kidding!),
Hannibal/female
Rating: Ha ha haaaa.... no,
seriously though.
Summary: Hannibal and Pete are MIA. Poor Face and BA....
Archive: Sure, just tell me where so's
I can tell all my friends.
Series: I cannot tell a lie: sequel to PREDATOR
Disclaimer: Y'all know the dance... not mine, not for profit, all hail Cannell... old news.
Warnings: You're kidding, right? Give me some time.
Note:
Patience, young grasshopper...
************************************************************************
It
was the fifth little town they had stopped in that morning, and the second day
they had been searching. BA Barracus parked the van near the beach, and the two men sat
in silence for a few minutes.
"I
hate this," Templeton Peck muttered after a while.
"Me
too," Barracus growled. "If Hannibal's all right, man, I'm gonna kill him."
They
watched two kids and a dog frolic in the rolling surf, and with a sigh, Peck
straightened his tie and opened the passenger door. "Meet back here in an hour?" he
asked.
"Won't
take that long," Barracus pointed out. "Can't be more'n
500 people live here."
"Half
an hour, then."
"Deal."
As
they had done all morning, Barracus headed south
along the main street, and Peck went north.
Peck
had a battered copy of a screenplay under one arm, the perpetually-produced
"Boots and Bikinis" that he always pulled out when he needed to be
the preening filmmaker. He surveyed the
main intersection for a moment, picked a good place to start, and headed off.
"Excuse
me," he said to a pair of old men who were sitting in the shade outside a
barber's shop. "My name's Jamie,
Jamie Pecklingon - you may have seen some of my
movies?" He flashed them one of his
generic pieces of fake ID and squirrelled it away
inside his jacket before they actually got a good look at it.
They
gaped up at him blankly.
"Well,
anyway, I'm trying to find my principal actor.... can you believe it? He just took off with the leading lady, we're
running behind schedule..." He
fished out an eight-and-a-half-by-eleven glossy of Colonel John Smith, and
showed it to his captive audience.
"I don't suppose either of you has seen him around, have
you...?"
They
shook their heads in unison.
Peck
sighed dramatically, shaded his eyes against the Pacific sun and looked
around. "Well, thanks anyway,"
he said, smiled goodbye to them, and set off up the road again.
===
"My
boss, see, he gonna kill me."
Barracus stood in the centre of a gaggle of teenagers. He'd found them shooting hoops behind what
passed for a community centre. There
were a dozen bikes and skateboards leaning against the fence, the trademarks of
a well-travelled fledgling gang.
They
were gawking at his gold and at his hair.
"Mister,
are you really a bodyguard?" one of the boys asked.
"Course
he is, moron," another one snapped.
"What else you think he is, dressed like that?"
"See,"
Barracus pushed on, ignoring the two in the back,
"she slipped off last night with this dude she knows, and if I don't find
her 'fore her daddy realizes she took off, I'm cooked."
They
looked at the folded photo of Jane Peterson he had passed around.
"Sorry,
Mister," one of the boys in the front said. "Ain't seen
her."
"Okay
then." Barracus
sighed, and folded the picture into his pocket again.
"She
like to party?"
He
narrowed his eyes at the kid who'd spoken up.
"Suppose so," he said guardedly.
"There's
a liquor store a couple blocks up. You
might check there."
Barracus smiled, and for a moment his entire person was changed from
scowling scary bodyguard to big kid with a new toy. "Thanks, little brother."
He
spotted the store at the far end of the street, and set off at a fast walk.
===
Exactly
thirty-three minutes later, Barracus returned to the
van to find Peck perched on the front bumper, watching a girl in a bikini
arranging a towel on the sand.
"Anything?"
he asked without peeling his eyes from the scenery.
"Course
not," Barracus grumbled. "Let's go."
They
climbed back into the van, and as they backed out, Peck pored over the
map. "Next town's up a couple more
miles," he said. "Let's grab a
bite to eat while we're there."
They
pulled out onto the highway, and Peck sighed loudly. "When you beat the stuffing out of
Hannibal," he said dreamily, "can I watch?"
Barracus giggled. "You can
hold him down."
===
The
arts and crafts room was, by and large, a fun place to kill an afternoon. While it was generally devoid of pointy
things like scissors and pencils sharp enough to actually write with, it did
provide a wealth of possibilities in the mess-making department.
"It's
called 'The Sorrow of Existence'," HM Murdock explained to the two
orderlies who looked mad enough to hit him.
It
had started out as a painting of a sunset, by the looks of it, but had since
had various things added to it, like a handful of tongue depressors, a pair of
socks (taken somewhat guiltily from another inmate who slept soundly beside the
window), about a quart and a half of glue, two entire jars of blue finger
paint, a chair, and part of the floor.
Glue and paint were still dripping onto the floor and pooling there. Murdock had screamed obscenities when the
first orderly to arrive had tried to mop up the puddle.
"It's
ART!" he screeched. "How DARE
you denigrate it with your concept of cleanliness?!!!" He lashed out with his feet when a pair of
arms clamped around his torso from behind.
Eventually
they called another two orderlies and a nurse, and he felt a little prick in
his arm and things started to go swimmy.
"....'s
not fair," he mumbled as he was led, half walking and half draped between
the two orderlies, back to his room for what the nurse had euphemistically
called 'a little lie-down'.
"I
know," she soothed. "But it's
not really fair to everyone else, either, to leave a mess like that? Is it?"
"....'s
not a mess," Murdock insisted blurrily.
"...'s fine art. Be worth
millions someday."
"Mmmm hmmm. Well,
here we are, Mister Murdock. Sean here
will make sure you're tucked in tight, okay?
So you can sleep real tight."
Sean
proceeded to strap him down. Murdock was
too anesthetized to fight back, and he found his articulate protests were
reduced to pathetic wimpers somewhere between his
brain and his lips.
"I'll
check on you in a couple of hours," the nurse said primly from the
doorway.
Sean
dropped a blanket over the restraints, and smoothed it out. "Comfy?" he asked tonelessly.
Murdock
gurgled at him. He felt his fury had not
translated well.
After
they had left, he tested the restraints tentatively. Or, he tried to, at least. He found when he tried to move his legs, his
left arm twitched. He sighed, and stared
up at the ceiling. He'd have to wait for
the drugs to wear off before he made much of an attempt at escape.
He
let his eyes drift shut of their own accord, and didn't bother to try to open
them. He needed the rest anyway,
really... He hadn't slept so much as
five minutes the last couple of nights, when he knew his friends were out
canvassing the coast for their missing colonel and his new girlfriend, who was
unequivocally his - HM Murdock's - fault.
He
sighed again, and tried to twist away from the direction his thoughts were
heading. Three nights ago, he'd had an
amazing dream about Face - beautiful Face, quiet Face, laughing Face, Face who
loved him, Face who tripped over himself whenever they were alone... always beautiful, beautiful Face... They were back in his apartment, his
ridiculous apartment with remote-controlled lights and music, and somehow there
was a string quartet there, and they were remote controlled, too, and look at
that - Face's clothes were even remote controlled, see, that button opened his
shirt and that one slid the silk down his arms and to the floor, and that
button there...
But
no. He couldn't grab onto the trailing
ends of that delicious dream. Instead he
found himself standing behind a chain-link fence, on the other side of which
was the only family he'd ever really had:
beautiful Face, angry but loving BA, eternally patient Hannibal, all
standing around watching the smoke from Hannibal's cigar curling into the air
above them... Murdock tried to scream at
them, but his voice didn't penetrate the fence.
Neither did his fingers when he tried to climb it, and when he jumped to
catch at the top bar, it stretched up another six feet, ten feet, it
disappeared into the sky.
From
where he was standing, he could see the telltale columns of dust coming over
the horizon that told him Decker was coming, Decker and a battalion of MPs,
Decker and his MPs and his - wife? - Pete, sweet Pete who got a kick out of
rewiring the common room light switch with the fire-suppression
sprinklers... Pete wearing a beautiful,
flowing wedding dress, clinging to Decker's arm and laughing about how easy it
was to dupe the A-Team, how stupid they were, how utterly utterly
stupid they were to keep gullible old Murdock along with them, how with
military precision they had sought the weakest link and exploited it, and how
they were going to win....
He
screamed again: "They're
coming!"
Hannibal
said something around his cigar and Face laughed. Ahh, beautiful
Face...
The
cars came crested the hill and came into sight.
Murdock screamed again, beat his fists against the fence and cried,
screamed that they just had to turn around, just look over their shoulders and
see what was coming, just look around for a fucking second and they'd see-
BA
cracked his knuckles and ruffled Face's hair, and the slim conman ducked out
from under his hand and took a playful punch at the bigger man. Hannibal puffed on his cigar and the cars got
closer.
Murdock
knew he was dreaming. It came to him
suddenly, like a light switch being thrown, but he knew he was trapped. Something was blocking his attempts to wake
up before the inevitable happened, before Decker and Pete got out of the lead
car and arrested his family, his brothers, the most important people in his
life...
He
screamed again, and pounded at the fence - the fence was gone, but the space
was just as impermeable - he pounded at the invisible force field and wept and
screamed and fell to his knees and clawed at the barrier until his fingers bled
and still the cars got closer and still his friends were oblivious.
He
fell to the ground and sobbed.
===
Peck's
heart almost leapt into his mouth at the ninth town the came to: a crowd of police cars was parked around a
jetty just south of the marina where expensive pleasure-crafts bobbed in the
water.
"Oh
God, please, no..." He leapt out of
the van before it had fully stopped, and tore across the parking lot towards
the barricade and the throng of on-lookers.
Barracus was no more than five steps behind him when he ducked under the
yellow tape and elbowed his way through the knot of uniforms.
"Hold
on a second," one of them said, pressing his hand to Peck's chest to stop
him. "Let's see some ID."
"Lieutenant
Peck," he muttered, craning to see over the sea of heads. "LA Homicide." He fished around in a pocket and flashed
something in the officer's face, then pushed past before he had a chance to
challenge it.
"I'm
with him," Barracus announced, plowing past the
poor officer.
A
sheet was draped over the shape of a man by the water's edge. A pair of officers in wetsuits and scuba gear
were wading out of the water. Two
plainclothesmen were flicking through their notebooks and someone in white
gloves was closing up a battered metal case.
"What
happened?" Peck demanded of the first person who glanced at him.
"Body
pulled from the water," was the bored reply. "Male, fifties, maybe. No ID."
Barracus lunged past Peck and flicked the sheet out of the way.
"Hey!" someone said. "You
can't just-"
Barracus let out his breath slowly.
The
body was that of a portly man, dark-haired with a bad comb-over and glasses
skewed on his face. Not Smith. Not even close.
Peck
breathed a silent prayer, and swallowed.
His eyes met Barracus', and they both nodded
ever-so-slightly.
"Well,
then," Peck said breezily. "I
see you've got everything under control."
He smiled mechanically, and wove his way back to the van, which Barracus had left running with both doors open.
They
sat down heavily and twitched for a few minutes, letting the adrenaline leech
its way out of their blood in its own good time. "If that had been Hannibal-" Peck
started, but couldn't finish the sentence.
"I
know, man," Barracus whispered. "I know."
"I'd
better check in with Murdock. Let's go
find a payphone."
It
was another three or four minutes before Barracus put
the van in gear and headed back to a 7-Eleven they had passed on their way in.
===
They threatened him with another stint in solitary if he set foot outside of his room again, and then they untied Murdock and let him stretch.
"I'm sorry," he said automatically. It seemed more and more often that he apologized to the orderlies at least once a day. If it was starting to get to him, imagine how THEY felt.
"Just stay put," Sean told him sternly, and left.
Murdock listened to the lock turning, and stretched again. It was good to have motor control back, although he was still a bit fuzzy around the edges. He looked at the clock on the desk: it had been three hours. Jesus, what had they given him?
He moved carefully around the room, found his watch and put it on. He knew time was next to meaningless here, but he liked to have it on anyway. Liked the reassurance it gave him, the illusion of control. It made him like a pilot again.
He went to his dresser and pawed through the bottom drawer for one of his dirty little secrets: the answering machine he wasn't supposed to have. Technically, he wasn't really supposed to have a phone, either - but a little conning from Face (beautiful Face) a few years ago had seen it installed. The answering machine had been a present from BA and Hannibal, and he still had fond memories of the night they ripped up his floorboards to run the wiring out of sight.
No messages. He sighed, not sure if it was a good sign or a bad one. It meant they hadn't found Hannibal yet - or it might mean they had all been captured by Decker.
He pushed away threads of his nightmare, and tried to think logically. BA was good, okay, but he wasn't really THAT good at conning. Did he get Pete's records a little too easily? Was it all a setup, a plan to lure the three of them together and nab them all at once?
And what about him, then? In that scenario, they would have to come for him eventually, too... He tried the door with a futile sense of hope, then kicked at it. He had made it too easy. He had made it too easy all along, but if he hadn't thrown a tantrum and gotten himself locked in, he could have at least made a break for it, tracked them down and sprung them... As it was, he couldn't even go out the window without the alarm being disconnected from the outside.
He sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. Nothing he did was any good. Not one damn thing. They were playing him like a goddamn fiddle, and there he was, jumping up and down in excitement at the attention. Like a pathetic dog. Like Billy after he'd been alone too long.
And where was that damn dog?
Murdock poked his head under the bed, Billy's usual hiding place. Nothing. He checked the closet and the little washroom and under the bed again.
"Man's best friend my ass," he grumbled.
There was a whimpering from under his desk, and he dropped to his hands and knees to find the rumpled dog looking up at him with Bambi eyes.
He almost burst into tears.
"I didn't mean it, Billy," he said, and pulled the dog into his lap. "I didn't mean it. You're the best friend I could have... you won't leave me, will you?"
Billy started chewing toothlessly at his hand.
"You can't leave me, see," he went on, stroking
Billy's back and finding comfort in the repetition, "because then I'd be
all alone..."
Because that was the answer, wasn't it?
He would get the team out of this mess somehow - he would work on the
how, he would come up with something to make Hannibal proud - and then get the
hell out of Dodge. He was bad news to
the team, this latest disaster had proven that much. If he was that easy to play, they'd do it
again. And again and again and again
until it worked.
He curled up under his desk with Billy, and stared at the strip of light that came in under his door. One way or another, he'd make it right.
The phone startled him. He sat up abruptly, knocking his head on the underside of his desk. Billy scampered off to hide under the bed.
He crawled out, rubbing his head, and grabbed at the phone.
"Yeah?"
There was a little pause. "Murdock?"
"Face!" He pulled the phone off the desk and crawled back underneath it. "Where are you?"
"Don't ask," Peck said. His voice sounded shaky. "Just a way up the coast."
"Are you okay?"
He laughed. That sounded shaky, too. "Sure," he said. "I just really needed to hear your voice right now."
Murdock allowed himself a smile. "What do you want me to say, muchacho? Radio Murdock takes requests."
"Anything. How's it going there?"
He let out a shaky little laugh of his own. "Couldn't be better," he said. "Had a doozy of a nightmare after they drugged me and strapped me down..."
"What happened?"
"Nothing. I just - was just being Murdock, you know. Putting the 'mad' in Howling Mad... I miss you."
Another long pause. Parking lot noises tricked in from the background. "I miss you, too," Peck finally said, whispering. "God, I - I thought we found Hannibal. Dead."
"What?"
"It wasn't him. But it could have
been, so easily..."
"I'm sorry."
"Murdock, stop apologizing. This wasn't your fault. Okay?"
There was a sound at his door. Someone was turning the key. Murdock pulled his legs in tighter, made himself as small and as invisible as possible. "Be careful," he whispered desperately. "Decker's out there, somewhere, looking for you."
"I'm always careful."
The door opened and quiet footsteps came into the room. The door closed again and Murdock squeezed his eyes shut. "Just- be really careful this time. 'Kay? I don't want to lose you."
His voice was barely more than a breath, and he wasn't sure if Peck had even heard him. Then, "Me neither," just as softly.
A hand dropped onto his knee, and Murdock's eyes flew open.
"Who you talking you?" Jane Peterson asked him.
Murdock banged his head a second time. "What are you - how did you - Where's Hannibal?" he demanded.
"What's going on?" Peck asked, tinny over the phone.
Peterson grinned. "At his place, I guess," she said. "He just dropped me off."
They stared at each other for a moment. Peck repeated his question. "Murdock?"
Murdock raised the receiver back to his lips. "Face, you and BA better get back here," he said. "You'll never guess who just came in."
===
Smith whistled in the elevator up to the penthouse. He'd had a fabulous trip: had a lot of fun with Jane, got a decent tan, eaten great food, tested the 'vette to new limits, met some truly eccentric people... everything a man could want in a holiday.
The elevator let him out into a little space with one door: the penthouse. He knocked loudly three times, and stood back.
He had another shimmy to report - this one kicked in at around a hundred and
ten - and he couldn't wait for the pained expression on his conman's face at
the news.
He knocked again, and after another pounding, he frowned.
Well, he reasoned, if I got to take a little holiday, I guess he did, too. Probably out with some supermodel. He grinned and pulled a cigar out of his pocket. Do the man some good. He'd seemed distracted the past couple days. And, well, if he wasn't there to get the keys to 'vette back, that was really too bad...
He made it across town in a truly harrowing time, and checked at Barracus' pad. Nobody there, either. He looked down at his watch: of course. He'd be over at the Centre.
He shaved ten seconds off his previous best time from Barracus' place to the Centre, only to be told by the friendly receptionist that he wasn't there.
"He hasn't been in all day," she said. "I think some kind of emergency came up...?"
Smith narrowed his eyes, walked down to the phone booth on the corner, and dialled Chicago. He chatted pleasantly with Mama Barracus for a few minutes, got the quick update on her azaleas and her neighbour (whose dog was menacing her roses), and said a warm goodbye.
What other emergency could there be?
He drove back to the VA, chewing on his unlit cigar.
===
Peterson had picked the lock, so Murdock kicked his illicit wedge of wood under the door to keep it closed, and they sat on his bed. She leaned against the headboard where she couldn't be seen from the hallway, and he sat at the foot of the bed with Billy between them.
"Where'd you go?" he asked.
"To some little hole-in-the-wall motel up the coast," she said. "Why? What's wrong?"
He shook his head. "We - never mind. You sure Hannibal's at home?" He had tried calling him three times.
"No," she said. "He could be anywhere." She had picked up one hell of a tan, and looked every bit as rested as Murdock looked haggard. "Now will you tell me, what the hell is going on?"
He pursed his lips and shook his head. "Gonna wait to hear from Hannibal," he said.
"Why? Where are BA and Face that they have to get back here ASAP?"
They stared at each other for a few seconds. The silence between them was frosty. Even Billy could feel it: he scooted towards Murdock and pressed against his leg.
"Look," Murdock said. "Just - wait 'til I hear from Hannibal, okay? I'll tell you everything then."
She narrowed her eyes.
"So," he said, forcing a layer of frivolous conspiracy into his voice, "tell me about your trip. What did you do?"
===
No sign of the van at the VA. Smith sat in the 'vette with the engine running for a minute or so, then parked it out of sight and crept onto the grounds.
He knew where Murdock's room was. He had broken in a handful of times over the years, but usually delegated that task to Peck. No sense in letting the Lieutenant's obvious talents go to waste, was there? Still, he remembered enough of the layout and the security to know which junction he had to get into, which wire he had to cut to disrupt the alarm to his pilot's window, and what was the best route to take between the buildings.
Three minutes later, he levered the window up and poked his head in.
"Murdock," he demanded. "What's going on?"
===
When Murdock's heart had stopped hammering and he had quelled the urge to hug Smith, he kicked Peterson out and wedged the door shut behind her.
"What was that?" Smith asked.
Murdock shook his head. "Colonel," he hissed, well aware that Peterson was probably listening at the door, "you have no idea how lucky you are."
"Why?"
"Pete's one of Decker's goons."
There was a long moment of silence.
"What?"
"BA has her personnel file. She was posted with him three times over the years. Colonel, I know it was sloppy of me to let her get involved with the team - I can see that now, how obvious it all is - the way she just showed up and made friends with me and the way she tricked me into getting you to make Face spring her-"
Smith held up a hand. "Slow down, Captain," he said coolly. "You're not making any sense."
"I know, I know. I'm just - relieved that you're okay." He grinned idiotically.
"Start at the beginning."
"I already did. She's served with him three times. They're practically-" A dream-image of Peterson in a white gown sprung unbidden to mind. "-best friends," he finished lamely.
"She knows Decker." A statement, not a question.
"Yes!" Murdock was practically jumping where he sat. "She was a plant, obviously."
"A plant," Smith repeated.
"Yes."
"On you."
"Initially," Murdock said, "but she's
obviously moved on to you, now."
Smith sat in silence for a moment, staring at a spot of air a few feet from his
face. "Decker's never been able to
prove that you're part of the A-Team," he said at length.
"I'm sure he suspects," Murdock said. "It makes perfect sense. He's been by to see me from time to time - I always manage to scare him off before he gets much for his efforts - but this is perfect. It's lucky we caught this as early as we did."
"I'm still not convinced," Smith said.
"Wait 'til BA and Face get back," Murdock urged. "They've been driving up the coast
trying to find you."
"Really."
He nodded. "Colonel, I'm - I'm so sorry, sir."
"Hm."
They sat in silence again for a few moments. Even Billy was quiet, although he was usually yappy around Smith. Murdock kept a hand on his head, resting between his ears, and found himself holding his breath.
Finally Smith stood up. "I think I'll go have a chat with Sergeant Peterson," he said neutrally.
"Her room's up one floor," Murdock said. "If she's not outside my door with her ear pressed against it."
"Get some rest," Smith instructed. "And lock the door behind me." He toed the wedge out of the way, and slipped into the corridor.
===
Barracus discovered hitherto unsuspected levels of performance from his van. "Gonna need some major work when we get back," he said through clenched teeth.
"So am I," Peck lamented. The van was practically shaking apart as they hurtled down the highway. "Dentist, chiropractor, shrink..."
"Hope the crazy fool okay," Barracus said.
"Why wouldn't he be?" The armrest was beginning to get permanently deformed from his death-grip on it.
"Maybe he decided to be smart, tried to question Jane on his own. Maybe she done something to him to shut him up."
Peck watched the scenery fly past. "She wouldn't," he said finally. "Not in the VA, not with all those doctors and nurses and orderlies around. And Murdock's too smart to go anywhere private with her these days."
"Hope so." They sped past a sports car with its pedal to the floor, and Barracus never took his eyes from the road.
===
From the window, Murdock could see where the 'vette was parked, and he watched an hour later as Smith crept out of the bushes and leapt in, and drove away. Alone. He suspected Peterson would be down shortly to harass him, so he left the wood wedged under the door and sat by the window, watching afternoon melt into evening.
He figured he'd be safe with the door jammed shut until morning - with the injection they'd given him, they wouldn't dare medicate him again tonight; and with his earlier display in the arts and crafts room, they were unlikely to feel compelled to visit him just for the hell of it.
So he sat by the window and played with Billy's ears until the street lights had all come on and any lingering trace of sunlight had disappeared. No sign of Peterson, and it would be lights-out shortly. Not that lights-out meant much to either of them when they were on a tear, but he figured she'd stay put tonight. He certainly didn't feel like being mischievous.
After the lights-out hallway patrol passed his door, he turned his TV on and flipped through the channels until he stumbled on a cartoon he didn't mind. Still perched by the window, with Billy's head balefully in his lap, he barely registered what he was seeing.
===
Peck pried the window open - again - and was about to haul himself through and noticed Murdock propped up against the window frame, sleeping. He held himself still for a moment, and enjoyed restful presence of the other man.
"Psst, Murdock."
The pilot's eyes twitched and he wrinkled his nose, and tugged on the curtain like a safety blanket.
Peck almost laughed. "Murdock, wake up!" He poked him in the shoulder.
Brown eyes fluttered open and stared blankly at Peck for a heartbeat before Murdock's brain engaged and he came to life.
"Face! What are you doing here?"
"I'm checking up on, what does it look like?"
"You seen Hannibal yet?"
"Yeah - he told me to come get you."
"Let me get my jacket."
Murdock moved away from the window to pad his bed with clothes and pull his jacket off the back of his chair. When he turned to leave, he found himself face to face with Peck, who had taken the moment to climb inside.
"What?" Murdock asked.
Peck took him by the shoulders. "Are you okay?" he asked seriously, looking into his eyes.
"Course I am."
"Are you sure?"
Murdock narrowed his eyes. Whenever the other man expressed concern about someone - who was not bleeding from the head, for instance - he was generally trying to generate a little comfort for himself. He supposed it came from being orphaned and trodden on his whole life - but Murdock recognized the signs.
"I was worried," he said at length.
Peck let out his breath. "So was I," he confessed. "It was-" He shuddered. "I can't even begin to tell you what it was like, Murdock, thinking that dead body was Hannibal - I almost threw up in BA's van."
He was still holding Murdock's shoulders, and Murdock smiled and touched Peck's face. "Good thing you didn't," he said mildly, rubbing his thumb against the angle of his cheekbone. "The big guy mighta done a number on this."
"And - and I know this sounds like shit, Murdock, I know I come across like a real asshole saying this - but when I thought it was Hannibal, I was so glad it wasn't you."
Murdock blinked, for something to do with his facial muscles while his mind digested this. Inside the roomy confines of his own head, he liked to pretend that Face loved him, the way that he loved Face, knowing the odds were stacked against it. It was deeply unsettling to find out he might be right.
"Oh, Facey," he whispered. "What am I ever going to do with you?"
Peck pulled him into a hug and held him as tightly as he could. "Whatever you do," he mumbled into Murdock's shoulder, "be gentle..."
Murdock laughed.
===
Smith read Peterson's file through a third time while they waited for Peck and Murdock to arrive. It was a grainy but legible photocopy, and he sucked on his cigar while he flipped through the pages.
"How'd Face get his hands on this?" he asked.
Barracus, who was sitting at the table with a litre of milk and was cracking his knuckles to pass the time, allowed a small smile onto his face. "He didn't," he said.
Smith looked up.
"I did."
There was a long silence. "You got this," he repeated.
"That's what I said, ain't it?"
"You got in through a checkpoint, bluffed past security and managed to procure faked credentials good enough to give you access to personnel files?"
Barracus stared at the colonel, daring him to make an issue out of it.
"Well, Sergeant," he said, "I'm deeply impressed. You've always got one more surprise up your sleeve, don't you?"
The shirt he was wearing was sleeveless. "Stashed somewhere, any rate."
The door to the penthouse opened and Peck came in, trailing Murdock behind him. "All right, Hannibal, the gang's all here," he announced, dropping onto the couch. After the merest of hesitations, Murdock dropped down next to him.
"Your concern for my welfare is touching," Smith announced as an opening. "I'm kind of flattered that you two drove for two-and-a-half days trying to find me."
Peck and Barracus exchanged an uncertain look. Neither of them liked the light tone Smith was using.
"I hear a 'but' coming," Peck said.
"You're always so perceptive, Face," Smith said. "That's what I love about you."
There was a pause. "But...?" Murdock prompted.
"But it wasn't necessary. As you can see by my continued existence."
"THIS time," Barracus said. "Maybe we just got lucky."
"No, it wasn't luck," Smith said. "It was unnecessary. After Captain Murdock filled me in on the situation - you guys really could have left a note or something, by the way - I had a nice little chat with Ms Peterson." He fussed with his cigar while the others fidgeted and looked at each other.
"She did get posted to the same base as Decker three times," he said, leaning back again. "Big bases, mind you. She didn't remember him off the bat, and certainly didn't know he was after us. When I finally jogged her memory, her eyes got big as saucers and she said, 'oh you mean the Dipshit'."
Another long pause. Peck broke it. "So she insults him," he said, "and everything's kosher?"
"She convinced me," Smith said breezily, "and I don't suffer liars gladly. She was telling the truth."
"So - just like that...?"
Smith sighed. "Lieutenant," he said, "as I already explained, I appreciate your concern - but it's fine."
"So you're going to keep seeing her."
"Yes, Lieutenant."
"And she's going to keep coming on jobs with us."
"As needed."
Peck shook his head. "I don't like it," he said.
"Consider it a command decision."
"Hannibal." Barracus pushed the bottle of milk away from where he sat. "Even if she don't know Decker - and I ain't convinced, mind - something still don't add up. If she nuts, how come she don't ACT nuts?"
"And isn't there another ward for female wackos?" Peck put in. "No offence," he added to Murdock.
"No problemo. And I don't think there is another ward for girl vets - not yet, anyway. Aren't enough of them."
"Still don't answer why she ain't crazy like Murdock crazy."
Smith sighed. "What will it take to convince you?" he asked.
"A lot more than that," Barracus said firmly.
Peck nodded. "Agreed. Look, Hannibal - keep seeing her if you want to - it's your neck on the line. But don't bring her on any more missions, at least not until we're all okay with it."
Smith gave him the coldest of his cold stares. "My apologies if this sounded like a suggestion," he said. "This is not a democracy, gentlemen. Your commanding officer has made his decision."
"He ain't exactly a by-the-book CO," Barracus said.
This time the silence was heavy.
"That sounded an awful lot like mutiny, Sergeant Barracus." Smith's voice was cold, level.
"'Cause that sounded an awful lot like stupidity, Colonel."
Peck and Murdock glanced at each other - they had seen Smith and Barracus butt up against each other on occasion, but never had it felt so... final.
"Hang on hang on hang on," Murdock rushed, and leapt to his feet. He broke the stand-off and started pacing. Keep 'em distracted, he told himself. "Okay: Pete may or may not be a Deckerette - jury's still out. Hannibal thinks she isn't, and so do I. I think."
Barracus gave him an evil look. Peck's look was more along the lines of stunned mullet.
"But," he went on, ignoring the hostility, "but - I do admit there's something a little, well, off about her. I urge caution, until the exact nature of her offness can be ascertained."
He held his breath while Barracus worked up a full head of steam and Smith chewed his cigar into a frayed mess.
"Fine," Smith said coldly, rising.. "Inasmuch as we proceed by popular vote here, I seem to have lost. I will train Jane myself, without the benefit of the rest of the team, so that when - WHEN, not if - you come to your collective senses, she'll be good to go." He headed for the door, and tossed Peck's keys over his shoulder. They disappeared under the couch.
He stopped at the door. "Unless you have any other objections," he added darkly.
He was met with silence, and he slammed the door behind him.
Barracus sat glowering at the door for five seconds, then leapt up and stormed after him. The door almost came off its hinges when he left.
Murdock fell onto the couch again. "Feel the love," he moaned into his hands.
"Not good," Peck agreed bleakly. He ran his hands through his hair. "What do we do?"
"About Hannibal? Or about Pete?"
"Either/or?" Peck asked.
"Well," Murdock said, peeling his hands from his face and drumming his fingers on his knees. "BA and Hannibal will work it out, and as for Pete..." He shrugged. "We'll just have to wait and see, I guess."
"Oh, perfect," Peck grumbled. "Just what we need: open civil war."
They sat in silence for a while.
"It's not like Hannibal to fly off the handle like that," Murdock mused after a while.
"Think Jane's brainwashed him?"
He laughed. "Noooo," he said. "I think maybe he... really likes her."
"What?"
"Well, it's not often he meets someone who can keep up with him."
"So he just stormed out of here because - what, we don't like his girlfriend?"
"Haven't you ever done something just the teensiest bit petty because of someone you liked?"
Peck wasn't sure if he actually blushed, or if he'd managed to keep it inside. "Well," he said, and stood up. "Sure I have. Haven't we all?" He disappeared into the kitchen.
Murdock flopped his head sideways to watch him go.
"You want some tea or something?"
Murdock was grinning when Peck - fully composed, he had assured himself with the help of a chrome toaster - poked his head back into the living room.
"What?"
Murdock's grin grew. "Isn't is supposed to go, 'coffee, tea or me'?"
This time he did blush, and his retreat out of sight wasn't quite fast enough to escape undetected. Murdock chuckled, a low, throaty chuckle he rarely got to use.
"Come on, Face," he teased. "Why don't we take this baby for a test drive?"
Peck's face reappeared. He was still blushing but he had decided to ignore it.
Murdock was dangling the remote at him.
He went back into the kitchen before his entire head caught fire.
===
Coffee: grind the beans, grind them a second time for good measure (not putting off the inevitable, not not not), measure them precisely - more precisely than that - load them into the cappuccino machine, find the milk (another jug in the back of the fridge that BA hadn't found, that was lucky), make sure the little whirry-schlurpy-thing is clean...
He felt eyes drilling into his back but he ignored them, let himself get pulled into the ritual of making the perfect cup of coffee.
"I was only teasing," Murdock said quietly after a few seconds.
"I know," Peck said. It didn't sound as confident as he'd hoped. He winced where Murdock couldn't see.
He did see, of course. Damn toaster. "What is it?"
He shook his head. "It's nothing."
There was a pause. He could hear Murdock coming up behind him, slowly. He held his breath and then told himself sternly to breathe. It came out more of a huff than he wanted.
Murdock's arms came carefully around his waist. "You're not real good at this, are you?"
"At what?"
"Not being the seducer."
Peck measured out the milk and tried his hardest to ignore the warmth of Murdock pressed against him. Tactful of him to put it that way, really; it would have been just as honest to say 'being the girl'. But of course, Murdock would never say that, would he?
He sighed. "I guess not," he said.
"That's okay." Murdock pressed his lips chastely to the back of his neck. "I'm not real good at doing the seducing thing, either."
"You seem to be doing all right." Peck's voice was shaky. What the hell was the matter with him?
The lips touched his skin again, and he could feel the smile they were wearing. "Take your time," he said.
By the time he thought to ask, 'With the coffee or with this?', Murdock had returned to the living room, and the room felt cold where he had been leaning against him.
===
They drank their coffee sitting side by side, staring at the blank TV.
"Think we should wait for them?" Peck finally asked.
"Kinky, Face," Murdock said.
Peck whipped his head around and stared at him. Murdock was wearing his most innocent expression.
"Wh-"
"Sorry. Couldn't help it." A dopey grin. "And no, I don't think we should wait for them. They could be hours. I really hope it doesn't come to blows."
"They wouldn't."
"They might. They've been dancing around a good old knock-down-and-drag-out for years now. May be exactly what they need."
"BA'll kill him."
"Naw," Murdock said easily. "Hannibal can take care of himself."
They sat for a while longer.
"I really need to get back," Murdock said. "I gotta get back in time to hide my piece of wood, or they'll take away my door."
Peck ran that through his mind a few times, and gave up. "Sure," he said. He set his empty coffee cup on the table and groped under the couch for the keys.
Murdock looked at his exposed back. "That is mighty tempting, Face," he said.
Peck snapped his head up. "Murdock!"
Another toothy grin and another unapologetic shrug. "You leave yourself open, muchacho," he said. "Can't help myself."
===
"Need a hand getting back in?"
"Naw. Piece of cake."
"Okay."
The 'vette was idling under a tree near the optimum spot for climbing the wall.
"I'll let you know when Hannibal and BA resurface."
Murdock smiled. "Thanks, Face. And don't worry: they'll be okay. I promise."
"And you be careful, Murdock. Jane."
"Oh hell yes."
They sat looking at each other for a few seconds, then Murdock opened his door, hesitated, and leaned across the stick shift quickly.
Taken by surprise, Peck almost pulled his head back before Murdock caught him, but he stopped himself and forced himself to relax.
It's just Murdock, he lectured himself. It's just Murdock it's just Murdock-
Ha. Nothing 'just' about Murdock at all.
He closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss, and brought his hand up to touch the hair at the nape of Murdock's neck. It was soft, softer than he'd expected. And his lips... and did he ever know what to do with them...
He actually moaned when Murdock pulled his head back. "I really gotta go," he said.
Peck nodded absently. "The wood," he said, "the door. Right."
Murdock smiled at him from under his eyelashes. "See you later, Face," he said.
"Goodnight."
===
Peck lifted upself up the wall until he could see over it, and he waited until he saw the curtains close in Murdock's window before lowering himself back to the sidewalk and climbing back into his car.
His lips were still tingling. Just barely, but enough.
He smiled, and pulled out into the dark street.
(At LEAST one more part to come - possibly two. But look: they've kissed at least, right? That should tide you over until I convince Face to let go. Well... Murdock's got him started down that road himself, I guess, so it shouldn't be too hard.)