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This page last viewed: 2017-06-27 and has been viewed 5042 times
Author: BJ Jones
Rating: R -- FRM (Mature)
Summary: Lt. Templeton Peck has always been the ladies man, the conman, the little brother, but even he has hidden faces. Face has a secret he doesn't want the others to know, a past that
Disclaimer: I don't own the Team I can't even afford to hire them to get rid of the annoying neighbor I have. They belong to Stephen Cannell and who ever at the moment owns the rights for syndication. I do own Alexandria and the story idea.
Author's Note: I grew up watching The A-Team. I had a huge crush on 'Faceman' for as long as I can remember. Watching it now as an adult I always felt that there was more to Face that even the team didn't know.
Beta: Thank you to Casper
Warning and Content: The story contains Vietnam War events, situations, and flashbacks - dealing with battles, firefights, and prison of war camps. As the story progresses there will be some violence and language. I will make sure to let everyone know what chapters it will be in.
Chapter 1: Suspicions
~ Stockwell's Compound –
Face walked into the living room dressed in khaki pants and a form fitting black sweater.
Hannibal watched him closely from his seat by the fireplace. This was the fifth Friday in a row Face was going out on a date. Like each of his other dates, this one was with a different girl. He knew Face had had a difficult time adjusting to life at the Compound under Stockwell's watchful eye. Over the past year, however, since he had been shot while trying to save the life of the Attorney General, he seemed to have been adjusting, even appeared somewhat calmer.
Hannibal closed his eyes trying hard not to think about that particular night at the Villa Cucina restaurant. Seeing Face bleeding where he lay on the restaurant's kitchen floor had deeply scared him, the fear like nothing he had felt since
Every once in a while, Hannibal would get a glimpse of the hesitant, scared kid within Face, and that night at the restaurant had been one of them; a night, that had affected them all. It had also solidified the team. Frankie was now one of them, no questions asked. He had kept his head during the restaurant siege, and Murdock his calm, and that showed true comradeship.
Murdock, who had been working at the restaurant as a waiter at the time, later admitted that he had at first flashed back to Vietnam, seeing Face shot and bleeding, lying there helpless and nearly dying. Murdock had realized, however, the importance of keeping calm, so that Frankie, the others in the restaurant, and most especially Face, could feel reassured by his steadiness and strength. This knowledge, in and of itself, had given him enough determination to push away the visions and get a handle on himself and the situation. In the end, Murdock had come through it all with a remarkable degree of confidence and poise.
Hannibal looked over at Face and watched him fixing his hair in the large mirror, which dominated the left wall of the room. The years had been good to him. Of course, no one had known for sure how old Face actually was, until Stockwell had established that the notorious criminal mastermind, A.J. Bancroft, was in truth his father. Face had been surprised to find out that he was older than he thought. The irony had not been lost on him, however.
When Face had first joined up in Vietnam, he had forged his
personal documents, stating he was in his early twenties and a college
graduate. He was sent to Officer
Candidate School, and ended up flying straight to Vietnam as a Second
Lieutenant. Face had found it quite
humorous to discover that he was in fact twenty-two, instead of the nineteen he
had thought he was at the time.
As he watched Face get ready, Hannibal wondered why he was in a reflective mood this evening. Maybe it wad due to the fact that Face had been acting strangely over the past few months. No one had noticed it at first, but lately both Murdock and BA had been mentioning things to Hannibal about it. He decided that once Face left for his date, he would meet with the other two, and discuss the matter.
Frankie walked in grinning at the conman. "Another hot date, Faceman?"
Face smiled back. "Yep."
"Who is it this time?" Frankie asked, as he threw himself down on the couch.
Face paused for a split second. "Really, I didn't notice. Guess I attract women named
Face smiled at Frankie and headed out the door to his car. "Don't wait up. I'll be back late."
BA watched from the garage as Face drove away from the Compound. He wiped off his hands and went into the house, where the rest where waiting. Hannibal sat at the dining room table with a cup of coffee in front of him. Frankie sat to his right, sipping his own coffee, while Murdock, wearing a frilly apron, served them from a silver serving set.
BA sat across from
"Serving coffee, someone has to be the gracious hostess. Julia Childs stated that a silver serving set could really enhance a get-together." Murdock put down some cookies on the table then sat in the seat opposite Frankie.
Hannibal smiled at the Captain. "Thanks for the cookies, Murdock," he said, and then looked around at them all. "Okay guys, down to business, I want to know what each of you have seen in relation to Face that doesn't add up… BA?"
BA frowned, looking baffled. "Well, the biggest thing's that new car a' his. Man, y'know I never thought I'd see the day he would give up the 'vette, the way he cooed over it back in LA, like it was his baby. Now he's got a shiny new BMW. Heck, it's not even American."
"Yeah, and I noticed he doesn't hit up on the women clients anymore," Frankie chimed in. "There was this one chick that was really hot, I mean, she had legs that went up to here, and she wanted Faceman." Frankie gave a low whistle of appreciation. "She made it quite clear she was expecting personal service, if you get what I mean. She turned up in our room wearing nothing but a teddy, but he covered her up and pushed her out the door without even a blink of an eye. Man, I saw it with my own eyes, and I still don't believe it!"
"Yep, and she wasn't the first," Frankie confirmed.
"Remember last month when he said that rich lady was taking him to
"What?" Frankie said, startled. He hadn't noticed any odd behavior from Face.
"When you mentioned he had taken a
After his words, the seriousness of the situation had obviously become more apparent to BA and Murdock. Frankie's expression, however, showed that he did not understand.
"Sometimes, you know if a con isn't going well, 'cause he pauses a bit to rethink. You can't notice it, unless you're looking for it, but it's there," Murdock clarified, then added, "I've always been amazed at how fast he can maneuver out of a sticky situation when he needs to."
"So he's lyin' to us. Why?" BA asked, speaking aloud the question on all their minds.
"That's what we need to find out,"
Face drove along the Washington Beltway enjoying the cool
summer breeze. The one thing he disliked about living in DC was the humid,
sticky summers, only to be topped by the cold, snowing winters. He missed the
dry summers, and the cool winters of
He rolled down the window, enjoying the wind in his hair. The guys would be shocked to know that he had let his hair get messed up before a date, but then again, they did not know anything about his date. He felt guilty for lying to them, but at this moment, he could not see an alternative.
Face shifted down into second to make his turn. Pulling into
the underground garage, he parked in his normal spot and walked up to the front
of the building. There, he purchased
some flowers from the florist and complimented the older woman on her
selection. He then walked over to the apartment building's front door, which
was being held open for him by the man stationed there ready to welcome
residents and their visitors.
The door attendant nodded towards him. "Evening sir," he greeted courteously.
Face gave the man a smile as he passed by. "Evening, Paul how's the family?" he inquired, genuinely interested and showing it.
"Good, thank you," the man responded, with a bright smile in return. "Have a nice night, sir," he added, as he shut the door once more.
Face walked up the stairs to the third floor. He paused and knocked on door number three. He smiled genuinely at the woman who opened the door, then leaned over to kiss her softly on the lips.
"You're early." She smiled when he handed her the flowers.
Face shrugged as he followed her into the apartment. "No traffic on the beltway," he said.
"Did hell just freeze over?" she asked, walking into the kitchen.
Face laughed as he took off his jacket and threw it onto a chair in the hallway. The apartment looked over the
Face looked around the spacious living room. The furniture
was well made, some of it antiques from the shop below. It was comfortable. A
large couch faced the French doors, while bookshelves covered all of the walls.
Two oversized chairs faced the fireplace with a Queen Anne table in-between.
Face sat down on one of the chairs and picked up the open book lying on the
table. He read a few words and then turned the book over to see the title. It
was a book about the 5th Special Forces during the Vietnam War.
"Is there any particular reason why you're reading a book about the Vietnam War?" Face called out towards the kitchen.
Unexpectedly, he felt soft, yet strong hands spread along his shoulders and then down his chest. He turned his head around to the sight of loving green eyes looking at him. Reaching up, Face pulled those soft lips down into a deep kiss.
"Research," she said when the kiss broke off, then straightened back up and headed back into the kitchen, saying over her shoulder, "Dinner should be ready in five minutes."
Face set the book back down on the table and got up out of the chair. On the far side of the room were more bookshelves and a desk facing a large bay window. Papers and books were scattered around on it. He walked over, passing the kitchen on his left. Looking down at the papers lying on the desk top, he picked up a few to read.
"Find anything interesting?" she asked, leaning up against the doorway between the kitchen and dining areas.
Face turned, holding a couple of typed pages. "You're writing a story about the war?"
She shook her head. "No, not about the Vietnam War. It takes place in
"Why?" Face asked, curiosity lacing his voice.
She smiled. "Your stories inspired me," she told him, then turned back into the kitchen.
Face's jaw dropped. "Tell me the team doesn't make an appearance." He laid the sheets of paper down and followed her into the kitchen.
Her back was to him as she sliced some bread and put it into a basket. "I was thinking about it, but decided against it. I decided to wait for all of you to get your pardons, and then write a story." She turned and smiled at him, handing him the basket. "Can you put the bread on the table?"
Face went out and set the bread down on the table. "Did you get it from the bakery?" he said, as he walked back through the kitchen and on over to the pantry to pull out a bottle of red wine.
"Yes, Frank was making some fresh Sourdough and gave me a loaf." She pulled a dish of hot lasagna out of the oven, and taking it out to the table, sat it down on a hot plate, next to the Caesar salad.
Face strolled over with the wine. "That smells good," he said, his mouth watering when he inhaled the rich aromas.
During dinner, the two talked about odd topics and local politics as they ate, lapsing into a comfortable silence towards the end. Afterwards, they cleared off the table, put away the leftovers, and washed the dishes. Face then refilled their wine glasses, and they sat down on the couch to watch the boats go by.
His voice broke the lengthening silence. "I think the team is suspicious," he said.
"Why?" She curled deeper into his arms.
"You know, they questioned among themselves why I got the BMW. When I pulled up to the Langley Compound with it, I thought BA was going to have a heart attack. None of them questioned me directly about why I got rid of the 'vette, though. Of course, I didn't encourage them, or provide them with any answers, either."
"You could tell them the Corvette stood out and you don't want to attract attention to yourself," she suggested, her hand tracing soft patterns across his stomach.
Face chuckled slightly and grabbed hold of her fingers. "It's not just that. Frankie also asked me why I turned down some girls' advances."
She sat up and smacked him playfully. "You'd better have turned them down," she teased.
Face grabbed her hand and pulled her back into his arms. He sighed as she settled back down. "Then, when I was with Mrs. Thompson, at that
"Speaking of Mrs. Thompson," she interrupted, "she wants to know if you can escort her next weekend to the annual ladies tea at
"That woman is such a con artist. I love her so much." Face laughed, thinking about Mrs. Thompson, a seventy-year-old woman whose husband was a retired senator. She was a member of the Mount Vernon Ladies' Auxiliary, a group that raised money and helped take care of George Washington's estate,
While he sipped his wine, Face ran the fingers of his other hand gently up and down her arm. The sun was setting, and the room was filling with shadows. He would give anything to be able to stay here and not worry about Stockwell, or the next mission. But he cared for his team; they were his only family and he would stick by them until the end.
"I screwed up tonight," he said quietly, breaking the peaceful silence.
"How?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I used the same name within a short period. Frankie caught it, and I think
"Just tell them you've been seeing the same girl for a couple of weeks, but something went wrong and now you're not." She stood up and pulled Face up with her, kissing him passionately.
"I hate lying to them." Face buried his head into her shoulder, smelling her hair. It always reminded him of raspberries.
"I know, honey." She began pulling him towards the bedroom.
"I just don't see them taking it very well that I've been dating Stockwell's daughter for the past nine months." Face grinned, slipped his hands up under her shirt and, lifting it over her head, tossed it to the side.
Returning the favor, Alexandria Stockwell smiled, saying as she did so, "For some reason, I think they will love the irony. It's my father I would be more concerned about!"
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