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Definitions of Gallantry

Definitions of Gallantry
By: Charon

Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Face/Decker Style: Slash
Summary: Peck!? Decker!? NOT! Well.... maybe....
Warnings: A Non-Com (Rape) Scene, But Depending On How One Looks At Things, Not a Violent One, Lots Of Swear words, Up To And Including The 'F' Bomb Being Dropped Several Times, And Very Mild Bondage.

Disclaimer: They Never did This Because They Weren't Mine. If They Were Mine, Which They Aren't, I'd Not Be Facing an Eviction Notice, Because I'd Have A Hell Of A Lot More Than Just Love and A Lifetime Membership In the Hand-To-Mouth Club. Therefore, Suing Me Won't Net You Anything Worthwhile. Trust Me On that One.
Episode Spoilers: Large Episode Spoiler For 'There's Always a Catch', Large Episode Spoiler For The One With The Pool Shark Daughter, Orphans, And Blackmailed Gambler Father Whose Name I Don't Have A Clue Of, Tiny Episode Spoilers For the Entire Fifth Season, Give Or Take A Couple Of Episodes....
Author's Notes: This Story Came From A Challenge Made To Me By My Best Friend/sister (Charon Waves At Cat) That I Was To Complete For Her Birthday (August 1st), And Had To Contain The Following Elements: A Believable (!?) Face/Decker Pairing (!?), Grievous Face Injury, Much Team Angst, Much Decker Angst, And If The Story Had An NC-17 Scene, I'd Get A Bonus. (A Bonus What, I've No Clue, But A Free Evening Of Babysitting Would Be Nice), And Then She Hit Me With The Final requirement I Actually Had To Post It. So, Well, If You Hate This, Blame It On Cat. It Was Her Challenge. ;-)




Part 1


Face turned and tossed in his drugged sleep, and from his hospital bedside, the rest of the A-Team, along with Frankie, watched him worriedly.

The mission had been a hard one, and Face had been poisoned. It was a slow acting one, and by the time they were able to get to some help, it had almost been too late. As it was, even though the antidote had been administered, the prognosis wasn't good.

"Rod." Face suddenly moaned, and the other sat straight up and looked at one another in no little worry and a lot of surprise. "Rod." Face almost wept.

"Face?" Hannibal stood over the stricken man, and Face's eyelids fluttered. His eyes were unfocused, dull, and listless, and the others were quiet as he sighed.

"Rod. Need you." He reached for Hannibal's hair, and the older man frowned.

"Face, who's Rod?" His voice was low, and Face's breath exhaled slowly, even as his eyes closed.

"Deck.... er. " Face whispered in a weak exhale and the heart monitor flatlined.

A moment later, the crash team was in the room, the Team was out, and they were confused, angry, and more than a little hurt.

"Johnny, isn't Decker that Colonel who chased you guys and testified against you?" Frankie asked, and B.A. scowled.

"Yeah." He answered shortly. "Hannibal, why's he callin' for Decker?" The bigger man demanded, and Hannibal shook his head.

"Colonel, he reached for your hair. I think maybe he thought *you* were Decker." Murdock suggested quietly, and Hannibal's eyes hardened.

"I noticed. I also noticed he's on a first name basis with the man." He all but hissed, and the doctor wearily came out of Face's room. They straightened, and he sighed.

"Well, we managed to get him back, but he's getting weaker. This is the second attack he's suffered, gentlemen, and if he has another one, I can't guarantee we'll be able to get him back. Colonel Smith, I've treated the Lieutenant the last few times, and I have to tell you, the human body can only go through so much and remain able to be repaired, or indeed, to repair itself. While the Lieutenant himself has an extremely strong will to live, and is in excellent physical shape, what with being tortured, shot, and now poisoned over this last year and a half, I'm afraid his body may be too weak to rally. "

"Don't say that!" B.A. scowled deeply.

"He'll pull through, Doc. He always does." Murdock nodded, almost desperately, and the doctor sighed.

"I certainly hope so, but you must know that almost every major organ he had was affected by the poison to the fact they almost all shut down. Gentlemen, his heart has been severely taxed, and these attacks are not making it any stronger. Even if he does recover, there is no way he'll *ever* be able to continue on as he, all of you actually, have."

"What are you saying, Doc?" Frankie swallowed and glanced at the Team out of the corner of his eyes.

"What I'm saying is, gentlemen, that if he recovers from this, and you go on another mission, he will *not* return from it alive. His career as a government blackmail victim is over.... provided your boss cares enough about him to pull him from active duty, that is." He frowned. "A fact which I will inform him of myself, in very short order."

"Ah hell." Hannibal ran a hand over his eyes, and inhaled deeply. "We need to deal with one thing at a time." His lips narrowed. "Let's get him through this first, and when he comes out of it, we'll see about the rest of it then "

"Good plan, Colonel." Murdock smiled, though it was weak at best, and Hannibal looked back at the doctor.

"Can we go back in?"

"Of course. I'll be back to check on things in a few hours, but I'm sorry to say, I really *don't* expect to see *any* kind of improvement."

"Don't want ta' hear that!" B.A. clenched his fists and Murdock shook his head.

"None of us want to hear it, but it at least had to be said." He swallowed.

"Murdock's right, B.A.." Frankie backed the pilot, and B.A. scowled at both of them, but Hannibal laid his hand over the Sergeant's arm, and shook his head.

"Let's just go in there and wait. That's all we can do right now." His eyes gleamed suspiciously wetly, the others surrounded the Colonel, and quietly, they all entered the room.

Face looked weaker, and somehow, smaller, than he had before, and they knew for a certainty that the doctor had not exaggerated Face's chances.

"Colonel...." Tears glistened in Murdock's eyes, and Hannibal went to the bedside.

"Face.... Lieutenant, you listen to me." Hannibal's own voice trembled, and he gripped the bedrails until his knuckles were white. "I know you've had it rough, really rough, lately, and I'm sorry about that, but you aren't a quitter. You can't just give up and let go, because we won't let you. Not like this and not this soon. You want Decker so damn bad, I'll get him here, but don't you dare quit. Do you understand me? Don't you *dare* quit on us." The only answer was the heart monitor as it showed a stable, if slow, heartbeat, and Murdock looked at Hannibal.

"You *really* going to bring Decker here, Colonel?" He stared at Hannibal, and the older man scowled, and deeply.

"If it will save Face's life, then yes, I will."

"But Colonel, ya' don't know where he is." B.A. said, and Hannibal snorted.

"He does." He indicated Face, took the younger man's wallet from the drawer of the nightstand and opened it. He went through it carefully, pulled card after card from the pockets, and read off name after name, until the wallet was empty, and it was only then that he frowned in frustration.

"Johnny, I saw him once, when he didn't know I was there, and he cracked the wallet backwards, took something out, smiled at it, and put it away the same way he'd gotten it out." Frankie cleared his throat, and Hannibal did as Frankie had suggested. A moment later, a secret compartment was revealed, and Hannibal pulled out what was obviously an upside down picture. He blinked as he turned it face up, grimaced, and suddenly dropped the picture as if it had burned his fingers.


Part 2


"Colonel?" Murdock asked, but the older man shook his head.

"I need to go think." He said, and was gone a moment later. Murdock picked up the picture, and B.A. and Frankie looked over his shoulder. "Uh.... I need to go think." Murdock said, and walked out, and B.A. backed away as he shook his head.

"Goin' ta' go think too." He announced, and walked out of the room, which left Frankie with Face and the picture.

"Well, that's certainly a surprise." Frankie swallowed as he stared at the scene in the picture. "No one would have even begun to suspect that.... and with him, too." He looked at the picture once more, and tried to connect the scene in the picture with Face. The day was obviously a warm one, as Face was in a T-shirt and cut off shorts. Decker was in a military green T-shirt and khaki shorts, and they sat together, literally together, under the shade of a maple tree. Face leaned back against Decker, who had his arms around Face's upper chest, and his legs entwined over Face's. Face's head was upturned as he looked intently, and one would almost have to say dreamily, up at Decker. The older man gazed down at him, a grin on his face as he placed a kiss on Face's forehead.

Frankie could see, on all levels, why the men were shocked. He was of a different generation, and he was shocked. He almost wished he'd never told Hannibal about the secret compartment. However, he turned over the picture, looked at the back, and swallowed as he looked at the words that had been written by a strong, neat hand.

'Thought you'd like this. Maple Tree Inn. Covington, Maine. Sept. 23rd. Love You. Rod.'

"September twenty-third?" Frankie racked his brain for the date, and shook his head. "That was the weekend that nurse was supposed to be helping you recover from your gunshot wound in Baltimore. Guess you went a little further away than that, huh?" He inhaled. "I'm going to go out for a minute, Face, and see how the others are. But don't you worry. I'll be back in a little while." He leaned the picture against the lamp, and left the room.

He found the others in the glass enclosed atrium at the end of the hall. Hannibal chewed on an unlit cigar at one end of the room and stared out the window at the vehicles that passed along the highway. Murdock lay on the floor of the atrium, stared up at the bright blue sky, and watched a plane as it passed. B.A. scowled out another window of the atrium, and looked down over the grounds that rested so serenely below them. Though each man seemed to be completely engrossed in the various things they were focused on, Frankie knew they all saw only one thing, and that was the scene in the picture. "Johnny?" He asked as he walked over to the older man, and Hannibal scowled.

"Not in the mood, Frankie." He almost hissed, and Frankie nodded. "I realize that, Johnny, but you guys left Face alone in there. I wondered if any of you were going to go back in."

"Did you see that picture, Frankie?" Murdock asked, and Frankie nodded.

"Yeah. A real shocker, I have to admit, but...."

"But nothin'." B.A. scowled. "It ain't right."

"What isn't right, B.A.?" Frankie asked, and blinked. "Him being gay or him being with Decker?"

"He's a ladies' man. He's always been a ladies' man. We've never even had a hint that he went the other way." Murdock shook his head and swallowed. "He never said a thing."

"Guys...." Frankie's voice was low. "Because of this, you've left him alone as he's dying. What do you think you would have done if he were alive and standing before you and made the announcement he was having relations with a man, and that it was with, of all people, this Colonel Decker?"

"Frankie, it doesn't matter what he would have done. He didn't do it...." The older man almost snarled as he kicked the window. "But he sure as hell wouldn't have been allowed to get away with it."

Murdock threw his hands over his ears and shuddered. "I'd seriously need to check myself back into the V.A. .... or check him into it." B.A. said nothing, though his hands clenched into tight fists and he punched one hand into his other.

"There's all your answers." Frankie swallowed nervously and shook his head. "Johnny, you say you wouldn't have let him get away with it. Get away with what? Making adult choices? He and Decker are obviously together out of choice.... unless you think the Colonel did something, either hypnotized him, drugged him, or something, and that seems really far fetched. Murdock, you think he's crazy...." Frankie snorted. "You think that pairing's crazy, then you should see some of the pairings I've seen behind the studios' closed doors." He tilted his head. "Or is it that you think that Face's lifestyle choice is crazy? You're the one who's read all those psyche books and spent all that time talking to psyche docs. I thought they, at least most of them, have come to the conclusion that being gay isn't a mental disorder." He looked over at B.A.. "And you. You stand there with your fists bunched, ready to hit something.... or someone. Who are you going to hit, B.A.? Face? Decker maybe? What do you think doing any of those things to either Face or Decker would do? Do you think it'd make the situation any better? Do *any* of you think *any* of your solutions would make *anything* better?" He looked at them, and none of the others could meet his eyes as he continued. "And finally, don't you think if Face weren't already aware of your feelings, he'd've let you in on his?"

"Face never lets anyone in on anything.... until it's almost too late to do anything about it." Murdock finally said, and Frankie nodded.

"I know." He said. "But, considering the condition Face's in right now, I'm pretty sure that's a moot point. Come on, guys...." He held his arms out and pleaded with them. "Whose feelings do you think matter more right now, yours or his? And what about this Decker? I know you hate him, and for some pretty good reasons that obviously go way back, but I'm assuming that Face loves him, and he obviously loves...."

"There's *nothing* obvious about it." Hannibal scowled. "Decker never does *anything* without a reason."

"You didn't see the back of the picture." Frankie said quietly. "That picture was given to Face by Decker, only he signed it Rod, and he wrote 'Love you' on the back, as well as the location where the picture was taken, not to mention the fact that it was taken the same time that Face was supposed to be in Baltimore with that nurse from the hospital. They've been together, I'd say, for over a year, so the relationship's pretty stable.... at least, for Face, it is. And, even if it isn't, I really think you need to talk to Decker before you go deciding what *his* motives are. After all, he isn't here to defend himself, and I've never known any of you to be so unfair as to condemn people without giving them at least one chance to defend, or at the *very* least, explain themselves."

"So, you're sayin' we gotta' talk ta' Decker." B.A. scowled, and Frankie sighed.

"Either that or watch any chance Face has to live, go right out the window." He blinked and shook his head. "As for me, I told Face I wouldn't leave him alone for very long." He turned away and left the room.

"Colonel, what do we do?" Murdock looked over at their leader, who turned around and made eye contact with him and B.A..

"You tell me." He said, and Murdock inhaled deeply, while B.A. blinked.

"Colonel, it's Decker. He made your.... our.... lives hell." Murdock looked lost and shook his head. "I want an explanation, but well...." He shrugged helplessly. "It's Decker."

"Don't like the fact Faceman's wit' a man." B.A. snorted. "But I don't like the fact it's Decker even mo'."

"I've known Colonel Decker a lot longer than you guys have." Hannibal nodded. "And I've never liked him, but right now, our options are severely limited. We either deal with Decker, or Face dies. We don't deal with Decker, Face dies, and we have to live with the knowledge that he and Decker.... that they...." He swallowed. "And we have no idea why or how, and you know as well as I, we'll torture ourselves with 'what ifs' for the rest of our lives. Or, we could ignore the fact we know that Face and Decker are...." He shook his head. "And Face dies, and Decker will never know what happened. Serious payback for all the years he chased us, I'd say."

"Don't like any o' them options." B.A. finally said. "Face dies in all o' 'em, and I don't want that. And it ain't right Decker not knowin' what's goin' on." He frowned. "'Specially if...." He grimaced and looked at the far wall. "You know." He concluded.

"He's right about that." Murdock nodded. "We told Ellen, and even though she didn't care, at least she knows." He paced the room. "Colonel, right at this moment I.... I really don't care, who, or what, Face loves." He was close to tears. "I just don't want him to die. He's almost died twice now, and I can't go through it.... this.... again."

Hannibal nodded, and his shoulders sagged. "A child's not supposed to die before his father." He finally said. "And I love Face, hell, I love you all like you were my kids, and if I were really any kind of father, I'd do whatever I could do to save his life.... even *if* he's gone against everything I've ever been taught to believe or believed myself. Face isn't me."

"He ain't none o' us." B.A. acknowledged, and Hannibal nodded, even as his eyes gleamed with the knowledge they were able to do something, even if it was a desperate solution, to give Face some kind of will to live.

"Come on." His shoulders straightened, he scowled, and dropped the sodden cigar into a nearby wastebasket. "We'll see where that picture was taken, get hold of them, and see if they can give us any information on where Decker might be now. I've had it with almost losing my people. I'm getting too old for this shit." Together, the three men headed back into the room they'd deserted. Frankie looked up from where he was holding onto Face's hand, and smiled as he saw their obviously determined faces.



Part 3


"Now that's the Team I've come to know and love." He grinned. "I take it you have a plan."

Hannibal gritted his teeth, snatched up the photo, forced himself to look at the scene for a moment, turned over the photo and read the information. He lifted the receiver of the phone, gained an outside line, and turned on the speaker option on the phone. He dialed information, got the number of the Inn, and as he dialed once more, he looked at the others on the team. To anyone who didn't know him, he would have seemed remote, almost emotionless, but fortunately, each person in the room knew him, and knew how deeply he really was affected by everything that had happened.

"Good afternoon." A strong, male voice spoke, and everyone in the room recognized the deep, resonant timbre, and the heart monitor skipped a beat. The others looked at one another, the monitor, and then the phone. "Maple Tree Inn Bed And Breakfast. Roderick Decker speaking, what can I do for you?" Hannibal's mouth suddenly went as dry as a desert. He really hadn't expected to find Decker, and certainly not so quickly. "Hello?" The man repeated, and Hannibal cleared his throat.

"Decker...." He swallowed, and there was silence on the other end of the phone for a very long moment.

"Smith?" The man's voice demanded. "Is that really you? What the hell's going on? Why are you, of all people, calling me? I could turn you in...." He demanded, and Hannibal cleared his throat.

"Just wait a minute, Decker." Hannibal scowled, glad to be back on familiar ground. "I need to talk to you. It's about Face...."

"About Peck? Why...." His voice caught in his throat, and he cleared it. "Why would I care about him?"

"'Thought You'd Like This. Maple Tree Inn. Covington, Maine. September twenty-third. Love you. Rod.'" Hannibal repeated the words that had been on the back of the picture, and there was silence on the other end of the phone for a very long time. "Decker? You still there?" Hannibal asked.

"Yeah, Smith. I'm still here." Decker's voice was subdued. "So. Now you know."

"Yeah, we know, but we didn't have any idea until literally just minutes ago, and I have to say that none of us like it, not the idea, not the action, and certainly not the fact it's you." Hannibal licked his lips and looked at Face's almost white aspect. "But at the moment, that's not important. Face needs.... he needs you. He's dying, Decker, and right now, we think you're the only one who can help him."

There. It was out. It had been one of the hardest things Hannibal had ever done, but he had done it. He had admitted that someone beside those on the Team could help Face survive.

"What!?" Decker demanded, and the questions came out so fast they almost ran together. "What do you mean, Tem's dying!? What the hell's happened to him this time, Smith!?" There was more emotion in Decker's voice than they'd ever heard, at least when he wasn't shouting Hannibal's name and adding epithets of some very colorful nature.

"There's too much to go into over the phone." Hannibal's voice trembled, and he ran a hand over his face. "And I don't know how much you know about us after the trial...."

"I know almost everything, Smith. Tem told me. But where.... where are you now?"

"Washington General. The V.I.P. floor."

"Thank you. We.... we can talk when I get there. I'm sure you want an explanation...."

"Yeah, we do, sucka'." B.A. growled, and Decker sighed.

"I take it the whole Team's listening in on this." He said, and Murdock nodded.

"We sure are, Colonel." He said, and Decker's voice was muffled.

"Miranda, I need you to make me flight reservations on the first available plane to Washington D.C.." His voice sounded louder once more. "I'll be there at the latest by tomorrow afternoon. Will.... will that be.... will I be...." He couldn't finish, and the rest of the Team sighed as it was clear, even to them, that, bizarre as it was, Decker did, indeed, harbor very strong feelings for Face.

"To be honest, Decker, we don't.... we don't know." Hannibal's composure finally cracked, and he gripped the younger man's hand in his.

"I'll be there as soon's I can, Smith." The man's voice was strong, and Hannibal was perversely grateful for that strength, and he nodded.

"Thanks." Was all he said, and the two men hung up at the same time.

Hannibal bent over Face's bedside and stroked the man's bangs back from his forehead. "Listen, Face. It's going to take Decker some time to get here, so you'd better just wait for him, you hear me? Don't you dare do anything before he gets here. He really cares about you, Kid, and if you care anything about him, you'll wait." There was nothing more the others could do, and they knew it. Silently, each one of them settled in chairs or sat on the floor, and tried *not* to watch the heart monitor as it ticked away each and every heartbeat that at any moment, could be Face's last.


Part 4


Twelve hours later, the ones who had fallen asleep were awakened as the door to Face's room slowly opened, and a man the Team hadn't seen in over two years, warily entered. For a moment, he and Hannibal looked at one another, then his eyes passed around the rest of the room and he gazed at the faces that all but glared at him.

Without a word to anyone, he walked into the room, and the others parted, almost as if they were an ocean and the weary man was Moses, until he stopped beside the man in the bed. He reached down, gripped the cold hand in his, and to the absolute shock of everyone, placed his lips lightly against Face's temple. The heart monitor jumped, and though it was obviously a hard struggle, Face's blue eyes opened. "Rod." His voice was merely a breath, but the older man smiled, and ran his strong hand lightly across the plane of Face's cheek.

"I'm here, Tem." He whispered back, and Face sighed.


"Sleep, then. I'll be here when you wake up."

"Won't.... wake...."

"Tem." Decker frowned. "Don't talk that way. You can't leave me. You can't leave your Team. None of us will let you. It's that simple. "

"Team?" Face sounded surprised, and the others gathered around the bed.

"We're here, Face." Hannibal said. Fear jumped into Face's eyes and the heart monitor fluctuated.

"Don't be afraid." Murdock's voice trembled.

"We know, Face." Frankie nodded.

"'Called 'im for ya'." B.A. frowned, and a tear ran toward Face's ear as he looked at Hannibal.

"Sorry.... lie...."

"Face, sleep now, okay?" Hannibal said, placed a calm hand on Face's arm, smiled down at his Lieutenant, and was proud of the fact that his smile wavered only slightly. "Rest easy." He said, and Face's head inclined slightly, as if he nodded.

"Thank you." He exhaled, once more his and Decker's eyes met, he relaxed into sleep, and Decker sighed.

"Where do you want to talk?" He asked quietly, and though his eyes were on Face the others knew he really spoke to Hannibal.

"In here." Hannibal said shortly. "If he wakes and finds you gone, it might not be good for him, and right now, that's all that matters to us."

"It's funny the things he does to people, isn't it?" Decker looked at the chair that Murdock had vacated, and motioned at it with his head. "May I?"

"Go ahead." Murdock shrugged, and Decker sat down, even as he continued to hold unto Face's hand, and the others reseated themselves.

"What do you mean?" Hannibal asked suspiciously, and Decker inhaled.

"Smith, you guys were military fugitives, and for whatever reason, criminals. I was assigned to bring you in, and I chased you for two years." He frowned at Murdock. "I hounded you while you were in a mental hospital, whether or not you needed to be there at all." He looked over at B.A.. "Planted myself and my men at your mother's and annoyed her every chance I could, with unannounced visits." He scowled deeply at Hannibal. "And you, I *never* liked, and made no secret of that fact. Our methods were always too different to even begin to suggest, even back before I was assigned to bring you in, we would ever be even barely civil to one another. As for Peck...." He snorted. "Well, he was just more damned cocky than a third rate criminal like him ever had any right to be. When I was assigned to bring you in, I vowed to see you, all of you, behind bars before I retired from the military. You humiliated me at almost every turn. Whenever you were captured, you escaped, and made it all seem like it was one big game that was acted out for nothing more than your personal amusement." He grimaced, shook his head, and looked down at Face. "And yet, four years later, we're together, now, in the same room, acting almost as if we hadn't made each other miserable for years, and it's all on account of him."

"Let's get one thing straight, Decker." Hannibal frowned. "It was *never* a game. I enjoyed, and still do, the rush I got, and get, from a plan coming together, but the safety of my men has *always* been my top priority...."

"I know that." Decker shrugged. "That was always one of the major stumbling blocks that was continually thrown in my way. Each and every one of you were so loyal to the other it was almost sickening. No matter what stupid thing one of the other of you did, the rest of you were right there to pull them out of it. And that goes for you too." He shook his head at Murdock, then looked at the others once more. "If there had been a way to separate you, one from the other, for more than a day at a time, I could have had *all* of you. But I was *blocked*, time and again, in my efforts to do that, not only by *you*, but by the very *idiots* who assigned me to go after you."

"What are you talking about?" Hannibal asked, and Decker snorted.

"Despite what it looks like, Smith, I *do* learn from my mistakes, and after the first couple of escapes, when I captured you guys, or one of you, I tried to keep you separated. But the idiotic bureaucracy continually blocked me at every turn. 'Next time, Smith. Next time' became my mantra because I knew there would always *be* a next time, because the brass almost ensured there *would* be by their sheer stupidity. I kept hoping they'd get their heads out of their asses long enough to get the idea that keeping you guys together after you were captured was a bad idea."

"But they never did." Murdock allowed a bright grin, and Decker nodded.

"They never did." He shook his head. "And I got the blame for it. I thought that after the trial it was all over, but then your bodies never showed up in the morgue, and I knew that yet again, you'd pulled off one of those fucking miraculous escapes." He shook his head and looked down at the floor. "And it was then that I realized how very tired of it all I was. Any advancement I had hoped to achieve, any advancement I was promised by your capture, was conveniently forgotten, and I was offered a desk job doing nothing more than pushing papers for some out-of-the-way outpost for the rest of my life, and I didn't want that."

"So you retired to Maine." Hannibal said, and Decker nodded. "But Maine?" Hannibal looked sincerely confused. "Why Maine of all places? I sure as hell never pictured you there...."

"My wife had always wanted to run a Bed and Breakfast in Maine, and when I retired, I surprised her with it."

"Wife?" B.A.'s eyebrows jumped for his hairline, and Decker nodded, though his eyes darkened slightly with pain.

"I'd been married for almost twenty-five years. She died a year after we opened the B&B. Cancer." He swallowed. "My daughter and I run the place now." He shook his head and indicated Face's prone figure. "Of course, now that we've been.... involved, we're a lot more successful than we were...."

"Which brings us to the most important point in this whole discussion." Hannibal couldn't keep the frown off his face, and, true to his nature, Decker straightened and met the Team's disapproval stoically.... and more than a little proudly.

"What are you two doing together?" Murdock demanded, then grimaced. "Uh.... I didn't mean it that way. I mean, I can figure that part out.... not that I want to...."

"Shut up, foo', yo' babblin'." B.A. scowled, and glared at Decker. "But he's got a point."

"Yeah." Frankie nodded as well. "I mean, you aren't exactly the kind of.... person.... I would picture Face with."

"Very diplomatically put." Decker shook his head. "But none of you are going to like the answer."

"Decker, I don't care whether I like the answer or not." Hannibal frowned. "I just want it."

"He is a very good looking man, isn't he?" The other man surprised them all with the sudden change of subject, and he blinked. "In fact, in certain circles he's what's known as a 'Beauty'."

"Certain circles you frequented." Hannibal fairly accused, and Decker nodded.

"Think of me whatever the hell you will, Smith. There isn't one name I haven't been called.... or called others myself. While I was in the military, I, personally, never let either of my two lives, the public one, or my private one, intermingle."

"At some point it must have for you to have ended up with Face." Frankie pointed out, and Decker snorted.

"That was the one and only time I ever cheated on my wife.... with anybody." He shook his head. "But I figured I'd never get another chance to literally, screw over one of the A-Team."

"What d' ya' mean?" B.A. clenched his fists, and Decker ran a finger over Face's lips whose color was a mere shadow of their former, darker, vibrant pink.

"The first time, until a little over a year ago, I ever touched him, was two years before you were caught. Until that moment, I thought I was completely immune to any and all kind of charm he had." His eyes flickered over the prone man's form. "I even thought I was immune to his looks, since he didn't do anything good with 'em." He shook his head. "But then, those thrice damned bitches known as the Fates threw us together, and I learned, like most people, and far too late, that I wasn't as immune as I'd thought."

"Wait a minute." Murdock blinked. "Two years before we were caught. We've been with Stockwell for two years, so all this happened four years ago, but you and Face have only been together for the last year?"

"A year and a half, actually." Decker corrected, and Murdock counted on his fingers.

"Hannibal!" He exclaimed. "That was when we found Face in that hospital after he'd been caught in that Earthquake in that lumber warehouse! You'd sent him there to scam some lumber for those old people...."

"I remember." Hannibal scowled at Decker. "But if you were together, you could have held onto him and used him to nab us. Why didn't you?"

"I'll tell you, but I'm going to start at the beginning, and if you want to hear it *all*, you'll let me finish *without* interruption.... and I mean, *any* interruption. No questions, no outraged exclamations, no bodily threats, nothing."

"We really aren't going to like this, are we?" Frankie asked, his voice low, and Decker shook his head.

"No, you aren't. But, if you want to know the truth, then you'll have to live with it...." He sighed, shook his head and looked down at the sheet white face of his lover. "Even as I've had to."

"Start talking, then." Hannibal scowled.

Decker released the hold he had on Face's hand, gently stroked the younger man's cheek, stood, went to the window, crossed his arms over his chest, and looked out, his back ramrod straight. "You may think that I spent all my time chasing you, Smith, but I didn't. Occasionally, I took time off, and that day was one of the rare times I allowed myself the brief luxury to be completely off duty. I was running some errands my wife had practically begged me to do that day, and as I pulled up to this housewares and lumber mill warehouse, I saw him." He indicated Face's form with a nod of his head. "I had my gun with me, but that was about all. "

His eyes completely unfocused, his voice dropped, and the others knew that though he spoke to them, all he saw were the events as they had unfolded that day.



Part 5


"Peck!" Decker scowled as he pulled into the parking lot of the large housewares warehouse, and couldn't believe his eyes. On the one day off he'd taken, he managed to spot one of the damned A-Team, and he was completely unprepared for it. However, he wasn't going to let Peck slip out of his fingers as he had so often before, nor was he going to alert the military to come in and blow the whole thing for him yet again.

He was going to single-handedly capture Peck, and if he had to, knock the slippery little prick unconscious, drag him off somewhere where no one would find him, and interrogate the little son of a bitch until he came across with the whereabouts of the others. He tucked his gun into the back of his waistband and slipped into the lumber warehouse. He kept to the shadows of the building, and watched as Peck spoke to the man who stood near the entrance by the saw. Decker almost snarled aloud as he watched the smarmy Con-man's smile that passed over the Lieutenant's face as the clerk nodded and took a piece of paper from Peck's hand. Peck suddenly laughed, and as if they'd been friends forever, threw his arm around the saw operator's shoulder, and to only the Con and his military watcher, it was clear that it was he who steered the rather befuddled man to a large pile of lumber, rather than the other way around. Peck kept up a running stream of chatter while the stupefied operator, his eyes all but glazed by the continuous stream of talk, put several boards on the saw table, and turned it on.

The blade ran smoothly through the first piece of wood, but as it started to cut the second, it suddenly screeched, jerked, and stopped. The operator grimaced, said something to Peck, unbolted the saw blade from the main table, and left the building.

Decker drew his gun, used the huge piles of lumber for cover, and crept forward. As he crouched behind a pile of wood, he smiled as his hand brushed over a pile of large plastic connectors that were obviously used to hold several pieces of wood together. They'd hold one slippery Con-man as well, if not *much* better, than regular handcuffs. If the truth had to be told, he was rather pleased with himself for his improvised riot cuffs.

Peck frowned at the door the operator had exited through, looked at his watch, and bounced on his toes impatiently. Decker held his breath and never took his eyes off his quarry, though he never stopped his slow, cautious advance. Peck was too close to the door for him to give himself away too soon, and as he took another step forward, the floor shook slightly beneath his feet. He paused, but only briefly, as he was used to that.

Anyone who lived in California for any length of time was used to that. Tremors happened all the time, and very seldom did they escalate into anything that needed to be worried about. Peck looked at the ground, and Decker knew he'd felt the tremor as well. Peck sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he gazed, obviously irritated, at the door through which the saw operator had exited the warehouse.

Suddenly, another tremor made itself known, and it was much harder than the first had been. However, rather than settle as the first one had, the new one continued. With every second that passed, it grew stronger and stronger and stronger, until the entire building shook on its very foundation. Piles of lumber were shaken from their pallets and the shelves that were stacked from the floor half way up to the ceiling (illegally, for the very reason they now experienced) with cut wood and uncut logs, dumped their heavy, and deadly, contents, with missile-like velocity, to the floor.

Peck threw his hands over his head, and dove further into the building as the shelves collapsed and their contents crushed and/or buried anything they hit. Decker cursed as he avoided the missiles that headed toward him, and ran after Peck. He narrowly avoided being crushed by a heavy beam, and he watched as Peck threw himself into what looked like a small, self-contained office that included only an overturned metal file cabinet, whose contents lay strewn over the floor, along with a multitude of old newspapers and magazines, an old, rusted, obviously unused, iron radiator connected to the floor and the wall by iron pipes, a sturdy oak desk whose computer lay on the floor, and a metal chair that seemed to dance with a life of its own over the old, worn, torn, linoleum flooring. There were no windows in the place, except for the one in the door.

Decker took all that in, in the few seconds it took for him to launch himself into a forward roll that carried him into the room. For a brief moment, the extreme shock that was on Peck's face made the Colonel smile, but he couldn't take any more time than that to watch the Lieutenant, and, seconds before the door was blocked by a pile of lumber, logs, and shelving, he slammed it shut. As he did that though, a massive log smashed into the window, but was stopped by the grillwork of wire that strengthened the two panes of glass. The lights flashed briefly, went out, and came back on, though they flickered nauseatingly.

Peck reached for his own gun, but Decker waved his and shook his head. "Don't even think about it, Peck. I've got you and I have no compunction against using this to wing you. I've chased you too damned long now to let you get away." He scowled, and Face looked at him, then around the room as the tremor stopped, though several more crashes, thumps, and bangs sounded from the main warehouse as the shelves continued to fall over and spilled their contents to the floor.

"Are you sure you want to do this now?" The charming, handsome man asked as he looked around the small room. "I mean, you do realize that we're both trapped in here, right?"

"Well then, we'll just have to stay here until someone rescues us. I believe the clerk knows that there was at least one person in the warehouse." Decker smiled triumphantly and waved the gun. "So, in the meantime, I suggest you get on your knees."

"Now, Decker." Face smiled tauntingly. "Don't you think it's a little early for that? I mean, we just got buried in here. Aren't we supposed to be in here for days before you get *that* desperate?" Decker's eyes narrowed and he stepped forward, the gun aimed directly between Face's eyes. "Don't fuck with me, Peck." He hissed. "Get on your knees."

"You know, that was always your problem." The Lieutenant raised his hands, and watched the other man as he stepped forward. "You don't have any sense of humor. But then, I guess that's the kind the military turns out. Or, maybe your problem is that you never had much of a sex life. You know, I could set you up with a real nice girl...." He suddenly reached out, knocked the gun out of Decker's hand, and punched the older man in the jaw. To Peck's obvious surprise, Decker took the punch and grinned.

"I was really *hoping* you'd do that." He said as he pulled his arm back and punched at the Con-man, who ducked under it and threw himself at the older man. At the last moment, Decker dropped to his knees, and Peck couldn't stop his forward momentum. He overshot his angle, and as he all but fell over the older man's shoulders, he was grabbed around the waist. Decker pushed upward with all of his leg strength, and all but threw the younger man over his back onto the desk.

The Lieutenant recovered, kicked him backward, and Decker slipped on some file folders, recovered quickly, and once more went after Peck. The younger man threw himself over the desk, avoided the chair, and swung out with all of his might at Decker, who grabbed his arm, and pulled the younger man, with all of his strength, toward him, straight across the desktop.

Neither man was ready for the aftershock that suddenly shook the room, and already unbalanced, Peck stepped down on the keyboard of the computer. It slid out from under him, and his fall, coupled with the full force of Decker's sudden wrench, forced him forward faster than either man had intended, and his head slammed directly into the iron radiator.

Peck didn't hit hard enough to be knocked unconscious, but he was severely stunned, and blood dripped down his cheek from a long cut over his eye. As he fought to regain his breath and his wits, all he could do was watch as Decker grabbed one of his limp wrists, raised it over his head, and used one of the plastic connectors to yoke it to one of the grills on the radiator. A moment later, another connector zipped his other wrist to another section of the grill that was nowhere near the first rung. Decker tightened the connectors, and Peck leaned the back of his head, which ached, and badly, against the metal of the radiator.

"You know." He finally said, as Decker righted the chair behind the desk and settled himself in it. "This really isn't all that comfortable. I'm practically sitting on my tailbone here, and this radiator doesn't make for the most comfortable pillow."

"Too bad." Decker shrugged. "I haven't been comfortable since I was assigned to hunt you guys down." He leaned over the desk and grinned down at his captive. "I don't suppose you're going to make things easy here, and tell me where the others are."

"Not on your life, Decker." Decker watched, almost fascinated, as the 'Ineffectual Playboy' disappeared, and 'The Special Forces Lieutenant' emerged. Peck's lips narrowed, his spine straightened, his eyes hardened, and Decker could tell that the younger man was ready to deal with anything he could dish out, and he shrugged. "I didn't think so. Oh well. There'll always be time later."

"The Team knows where I am." Peck said to him, his voice calm. "They'll come and find me."

"And how long, exactly, do you think it'll take them to do that?" Decker asked, almost conversationally as he waved his hand around the small office, and indicated the blocked door. "If it looks like this out there, what do you think the rest of the city looks like? Besides, if the operator you were in the process of conning got to some sort of safety before the worst of the tremors hit, then he'll tell someone in authority that someone is in here, and this place will be crawling with police and fire personnel." He smiled coldly. "Tell me, Peck, now just whose side do you really think they'll be on? The fugitive's, or the respectable military Colonel's, who's been sworn to uphold justice?"

"Justice." Peck snorted. "Now there's a laugh. All you're doing is being a good little soldier. You go where they tell you, when they tell you, and how they tell you. You're really good at following orders, aren't you, Colonel?"

"I like to think so." Decker leaned back in his chair. "Now, if you and your Leader had followed orders...."

"We *did* follow orders!" Peck scowled, and glared at Decker. "We followed our orders *exactly* as we got them, but the government needed a scapegoat...."

"You know, someday, you guys keep saying that enough, someone's going to actually buy that crap." Decker snorted, and Peck shook his head.

"It's not crap." He said, and Decker shrugged.

"Not my problem, Peck."

"Yeah, it's nobody's problem but ours." Peck scowled and looked away, then shook his head. "I've got to know this, Decker. What exactly in the *hell* were you doing here, anyway? At a housewares store/lumber mill of all places? The rest of your entourage isn't here, so you couldn't have been chasing me." His eyes flickered over the man's form and noted the soft, well worn denim blue shirt and the equally faded, and somewhat tight, jeans. "And you're obviously out of uniform. I thought you wore that thing to bed."

"Only when my wife asks me to." Decker said, and Peck grimaced.

"More than I needed to know." He shook his head. "Somehow the thought of you really having sex gives me the creeps."

"Actually, today was a lucky shot." Decker grinned and ignored the barb. "Lucky for me at any rate. All I was doing was going to get some paint and a brass towel bar...."

"You decorating?" Peck blinked, obviously surprised at the older man, and he scowled.

"Peck, contrary to what you so obviously think, I've got a life. Now shut up. I've had enough of talking to you about things that are none of your business." He looked deep into Peck's blue eyes and forced himself to look away, as he ignored the fact that Peck really was a handsome man.... and that the man's eyes were only what could be described as ocean blue. "However, if you want to talk about the whereabouts of the A-Team...."

"Not really." Peck said, once more leaned his head against the radiator, and for a long while, silence filled the small room. Every few minutes however, Peck shifted in place, and Decker finally had enough.

"Hold your ass still." He scowled over the desk. "You move again, and I'll knock you unconscious."

"Why?" Peck gazed, surprised, at the older man.

"Because I've made it my business to know my enemy, Peck, and I know you're a slippery little eel who only needs a few seconds to sneak away from almost any kind of trap that's been set for you. You just sit on that floor, hold still, keep your mouth shut, and we'll get along fine."

"Speaking of knowing their enemy." Peck said almost conversationally as he looked around and licked his lips as the lights went out and took a much longer time than the last, to come back on. "You aren't the only one who knows things about his enemy. Probably things no one else does."

"What part of 'keep your mouth shut' didn't you understand, Peck?" Decker scowled at him, and refused to rise to the obvious bait.

"Well, you see, that was always part of my problem." Peck smiled. "It's one of the reasons I ended up with Hannibal. I wasn't really good at following orders. But, you know, back when I was in Vietnam, I talked to a lot of people on the various bases, and in the various brigs I was in." He shrugged. "I guess it's the face. You know, trustworthy and all that, and people just kind of opened up to me. Anyway, there was this one guy, real nice, good looking too, in his early twenties, but he was a little on the dim side. A Corporal, as I remember...."

"Peck, you either shut up right now, or I'll stuff a sock in your...."

"His name was Corporal Alexander Robinson." Decker glared at Peck, and if looks could have killed, he'd've dropped dead on the spot. "I don't really think the military likes it when male Colonels sleep with male Corporals, do you, Decker?" Face almost smirked, and Decker's eyes narrowed.

"That was a long time ago." He all but hissed. "And as long as I bring the A-Team in...."

"There've been others, Decker. You see, once I knew that Hannibal had an interest in you, or more appropriately, an intense hatred of you, I made it my business to find out everything and anything about you I could." He shrugged. "In those days I wasn't quite as scrupulous as Hannibal eventually taught me to be, and in fact, as B.A. reminds me quite frequently, I probably would have been in jail now if it hadn't been for Hannibal putting me on the Team. Anyway, granted, there haven't been any since you've been married, but I'm still pretty sure the military won't be able to turn a blind eye once the information hits the papers."

"Are you blackmailing me, Peck?" Decker stood up so fast, the metal chair banged into the wall behind it, and he was so angry that his face turned scarlet and his hands clenched into tight fists.

"Now, really, blackmail is such an ugly word, don't you agree?" Peck smiled up at the man, seemingly unaffected by the murderous expression that was on his face. "I mean, after all, we're trapped here for whoever knows how long, and if we happen to come to a term of agreement involving a one time business deal in which two adults can reasonably decide on whether or not a piece of information is truly worth the humiliation it would mean for a certain family man...." Peck let his words fall into silence, and Decker stalked around from behind the desk and stood over his captive.


Part 6


"Listen here, you two bit, small time hustler." The words were almost ground out from between Decker's clenched teeth, and he bent down, gripped Peck's lapels between his fists, and all but shook him. "I've chased you for almost two years, and been nothing but humiliated by you and that damned Smith. Even Baracus, as intelligent as he is, has seen fit to laugh at me, and if I could prove, beyond any shadow of any doubt, to those damned blind idiots I work for, that crazy ass pilot is as much a member of your fucking Team as you are, I would personally bury every last one of you so deeply into the basement of a military stockade, none of you'd see the light of day until the Resurrection! And anything you do to me would be worth it." He dropped Peck's lapels, and stood up, though he continued to look down at his captive. "Besides." It was his turn to smile. "Do you forget who's spoken to the victims you've conned, and usually *after* you've passed through and gone on your way?" He shook his head. "You certainly leave quite a lot of unfinished business behind, don't you?"

"What's that got to do with anything?" Peck asked, and Decker grinned, though there wasn't any humor in it.

"It means, Peck, that I know that there have been people you weren't able to con." Decker's smile widened, and he knew that he looked somewhat like a shark, but didn't care, as he'd long dreamed about beating some member of the Team, any member, at his own game, and the only one better than Smith, was Peck. "And, to speak in your own vernacular, Peck, there have been some people you weren't able to make equally equitable arrangements with, so you've consented to certain.... other.... agreements that would be mutually beneficial. In fact, some of those people were more than happy to describe, in detail, how you were and what you did for them. I remember one report in fact, that involved you, your knees, and your very talented tongue, only you certainly weren't talking as your mouth was rather full at the time.... and it wasn't a female either."

"So what? Who's going to care that much about whether a known Con-man, doing what he has to, to get something, has given a blowjob or two?" Peck almost successfully managed to keep his face straight, and he looked directly into Decker's face, but his eyes darkened, and his lashes fluttered as his lids dropped slightly.

"It's been more than just a blowjob or two, Peck, and you know it, and so do I. You and I also know *exactly* who would care." Decker's eyes never left Peck's, and he was almost mesmerized at the many ways Peck's eyes showed his emotions, though his body language revealed nothing. In fact, unless one actually looked directly into his eyes, they never would have known the directions any of the younger man's thoughts had taken, and they would believe the purely surface facade. "I believe Hannibal Smith wouldn't exactly be thrilled to know that he's been pimping out his Lieutenant, now, would he?"

"He hasn't been doing that!" Peck exclaimed, and Decker smiled.

"Not to his knowledge, no. But you know he'll see it that way. After all, he's the one who sends you out on your 'errands' and tells you how to get them done, without really asking how you did it, isn't he? And, by your own admission, Peck, Baracus isn't all that thrilled with you now, is he? How would he feel if he knew you were nothing more than not only a two bit hustler, but a two bit whore as well? And not just with all those women you so glibly charm."

"I'm not a whore." Face finally said, but his voice was low, and Decker knew he'd gotten to the core of the proud man. "I'm not."

"That's funny." Decker snorted. "I thought that's what people were called who had sex with a large number of strangers. And strangers of both sexes, no less."

"It's not for personal enjoyment." Peck shook his head and his eyes slid everywhere around the room but never focused on anything. "It's business...." He swallowed as Decker's smile widened. "I mean, it's for the Team. Besides, if I didn't do it, then a lot of people would be hurt or dead. Someone has to do it, so it might as well be me."

"You keep telling yourself that, Peck." Decker shrugged, and resisted the urge to look, once more, into those deep blue eyes that had darkened with each ugly accusation Decker had made.

"They would!" Peck finally stared directly into Decker's eyes, and the Colonel knew he'd found a way to tell when Peck lied or not. "And you know it, too. Hell, you've said you were there and talked to the people we helped! If you talked to the people I conned, then you *must* have spoken to the people we helped...."

"You guys play Robin Hood all you want, but I notice you still get paid." Decker snorted, and Face blinked.

"When they can afford it, and if we don't take the case gratis. You have no idea what it's like to be constantly on the run, and the expenses you run into. Hell, every time we get injured, we have to go to some private doctor who usually gouges the hell out of us.... if they don't call the cops or military out on us." Face closed his eyes. "And when we can't find a doctor, then we have to pray that what medical knowledge we do have will be enough. Not to mention the hotels, food, weapons repairs, ammo, van repairs, washing clothes.... if we don't have to buy new ones because we were forced to leave the old ones behind...."

"And financing wrestlers, bad movies, directors of bad movies, and boxers." Decker snorted. "Cry me a river, Peck. None of this changes any of the facts. And they stand at the fact that if you tell on me, I'll tell on you, and I believe that you have as much, if not more, to lose than I do. After all, Smith is as military as I am, and I know for a fact that he doesn't have any of the same proclivities, and so do you."

"Fine." Peck frowned. "Round one to you, Colonel." He raised his head proudly. "I'm still not going to give you any information."

"Like I said earlier, I have time." Decker sat back down at the desk, and silence filled the room until darkness encompassed them once more, and that time, the lights stayed off. For a long while, the silence was golden to Decker, but Peck's unwelcome voice once more cut through the silence.

"C'mon, Decker, this is ridiculous. I can see getting revenge here, but this is downright sadistic. Will you at least, please cut some slack to my hands? I think these things are completely cutting off any and all circulation."

"No hands, no escape. Simple equation, Peck. Do the math."

"Decker, there's nowhere to go! I thought you'd figure that out by now."

"And I did, but payback's are a bitch, Peck...." Decker said, and Peck snorted.

"And so are you."

"I think the proper term would be bastard, but then, that wouldn't be right either, as I know who both my parents are."

"That was low, Decker, even for you." Peck's voice was flat, and Decker grimaced. He'd honestly forgotten that Peck was an orphan.

"Too bad." He snorted and knew that if he apologized for his slip, Peck would see him as weak, and that was something he had to avoid at all costs. "Now, for the first and last time, good night, Peck. Don't let the rats bite." Once more, silence filled the room, and Decker placed his boots on the desk and leaned back in the chair.

"Decker?" Peck's voice sounded a few minutes later, and Decker growled low in his throat.

"I now know why Lynch hated you so much. You don't know the meaning of the words 'shut up'."

"Well, that and that little matter of sleeping with his daughter." Peck cleared his throat. "Seriously, you don't really think there are rats in here, do you?"

"This is a lumber mill. There are piles of wood all over here. All kinds of warm moist places that would appeal to rodents and other sewer crawlers, so yes, there probably are rats here. I highly doubt though, that any are in here. And, even if there were, your incessant talking would scare them away."

"Have you checked the electricity in a while? Maybe they got it restored."

"Peck if they had, the lights would have been on by now, don't you think?" Decker was extremely irritated, and he scowled. "Now, one more word out of you before we're rescued, and I really *will* stuff a sock in your mouth."

"You know, in the prison camp, we sometimes ate the rats." Peck said, and Decker wanted to bang his head on the desk. "We also ate the cockroaches and grass. Do you think there are cockroaches in here?"

"Probably, but what the hell is your problem?" He demanded, and Peck swallowed, somewhat loudly. "I tell you fifty times to fucking shut up, and you don't...."

"I hate the dark you asshole!" Peck finally shouted, his tone on the edge of hysteria. "Are you satisfied!? And I especially hate the dark when I'm fucking confined in a semi-torturous position! It's too much like the damned camp!"

Decker sighed. He was out for revenge, and a little mind game or two wasn't beyond him, but he'd read the reports. He knew what Peck and the others had suffered in the prison camp, and he wasn't completely heartless. "I was going to save this in case we needed it...." His keys rattled and a moment later, a dim light penetrated the darkness.

"Thank you." Peck's voice was low, and Decker could just make out the blond head as it was bowed, obviously in shame.

"You're welcome. Now, will you please, and I'm almost begging you here, please shut up before I fucking *kill* you!"

Peck lapsed into silence. He leaned his head back against the radiator grill and flexed his fingers. Decker glanced up at the still figure every so often, and he had to smile as Peck bit his lips, and kept his eyes firmly on the ceiling, as if he were determined not to say another word. It was warm in the office, and Decker moved the chair until he faced Peck full on, and leaned it against the wall. He leaned his head back, and dozed. He'd only been asleep for a few minutes, when Peck's voice brought him to full alertness.

"Decker?" Peck suddenly whispered.

"What is it now, Peck?" Decker demanded, and his captive shifted along the floor.

"I.... I think something just ran over my foot."

"Stop playing around, Peck. I'm not releasing you, and that's it."

"Even if you did release me, there's nowhere I can go." The man sounded frustrated, but then his breath hitched in his throat, and he inhaled sharply. "Decker, I'm not kidding. I'm definitely feeling something on my foot." Peck's voice was loud in the quiet room, and it held the slightest quaver.

"Forget it. I'm not releasing you so you can clobber me while my back is turned or something...." Decker scowled, but a squeak suddenly sounded, and Peck's voice was little more than a hoarse whisper.

"I swear, Decker, you can tie me to the fucking ceiling by my toes if you want to, but please, please get me off this floor! There's rats down here!"

"They won't hurt you, Lieutenant, now settle your ass down."

"Decker, it's chewing my shoe!" Peck exclaimed a moment later, and Decker stood so fast the chair slammed into the wall. He left the gun on the desk, out of Peck's reach, and stalked over to the man. He shined the penlight on the younger man's face, and whatever he had been going to say was instantly forgotten as he gazed into blue eyes that were, quite literally, terrified.

His lips compressed into a thin, narrow line as he stalked over to the desk, grabbed the chair and set it by Peck. He gripped the man's wrists in his hands and brutally maneuvered them so that they slid up the grill of the radiator.

"Geeze, Decker! Why don't you just cut my freaking hands off completely if they're such a nuisance to you!" Peck exclaimed as his skin scraped along the grills and left blood on the metal.

"Don't tempt me." He hissed, gripped the man around the waist, and hauled him up, until his hips and lower body were off the floor. He forced himself not to look at Peck's arched hips and lower body, shoved the chair under the younger man, and dropped him onto it. Without a word, he pushed the desk against the wall and sat on it. "Now, shut the hell up and get some sleep." He ordered.

"Actually, it probably wouldn't be a good thing if I slept. I think I might have a mild concussion from hitting the radiator." Peck blinked innocently at him. "It wouldn't look very good for you to capture me and then let me die before the military gets a chance to get after me and interrogate me on where the others are."

Decker scowled. "They wouldn't care one way or the other. I was told to do what I had to, to get you. No reports filed, no explanations, and no paperwork necessary."

"So...." Peck licked his lips and swallowed. "If you hate me that much, then why haven't you just killed me and gotten it over with?"

"Killed you? In here?" Decker grinned again, and once more he knew he looked like a shark. "I'd never get the smell out of my clothes. Besides, I was hired to bring in the entire A-Team, and that's exactly what I'm going to do."

"Has it occurred to you that we may never get out of here?" Peck asked, and Decker rolled his eyes. "No, I'm serious. You saw the damage. You saw the amount of logs and lumber that was piled on the shelves. Piled to excess, I might add, and definitely illegally. And what if the guy didn't make it to safety? I mean, we just might be our only hope to get out of this."

Decker frowned at the dim outline of the younger man and was silent for a moment, then scowled. "You just don't give up, do you, Peck?" He finally demanded. "Do you really think I'm *that* stupid? *This* is a lumber/housewares business. *That* was an earthquake, and if the damage out there in the main warehouse is any kind of indication of what the rest of the city looks like, then this stuff is going to be needed, and no business in their right minds who can get away with gouging prices is going to keep this disaster from letting them make money." He grinned. "I give it eighteen hours, twenty-four at the absolute most, and we'll be out of here." He leaned closer to Peck. "And then the real fun will begin."


Part 7


"What do you mean?" Peck asked, and Decker threw his head back and laughed.

"Do you really think, once it gets out that I've captured you, that Smith will let that go? He's going to try and rescue you, and then I'll get him."

"Hmph." Face snorted. "I've heard that before."

"You don't seem to understand, Peck. I've actually got you this time." Decker smiled and leaned over the man. "I've got carte blanche to do with you as I will, and that includes holding onto you personally, and for as long as I need to, to get any and all information I can out of you."

"You'd torture me?" Face's eyes opened wide and Decker shrugged.

"The thought has crossed my mind, but somehow I don't think I'll need to be quite that crude. I know the training you've received about resisting drugs, but the military has developed quite a few new ones since then, and I'm pretty sure there is at least *one* that'll get past any kind of block you may have." He grinned though it was completely devoid of any kind of humor at all. "And when I say I'm going to get all of the A-team, I mean everyone. You, Smith, Baracus, *and* Captain Murdock. He doesn't fool me with that crazy routine of his, although he's got everyone else snowed, including that damned doctor of his." He snorted disgusted, and Face glared at him.

"You leave Murdock out of this, Decker! He's in the VA for a reason, and it's where he needs to be...."

"Except when he's playing pilot for Smith." Decker said. "And don't bother denying it." He narrowed his eyes. "Anyone with any kind of sense at all can figure out that every time he's broken out, left, or been removed for whatever reason that had no basis in fact, coincides with *some* sort of mission of mercy the A-Team has done."

"So, you admit that we've done good." Peck grinned, and Decker moved away as he fought the urge to do something that would wipe that smug look from the attractive face.

"I keep telling you, Peck, I'm not a stupid man. Do you really think I was snowed by that woman with the orphan's home who called me saying Smith had threatened her?" He rolled his eyes. "Give me a break. Anyone who knows *anything* about your history would know that *they* were the *last* type of people Smith'd threaten."

"But you went...."

"Of course I went. I knew Smith would be there." He snorted. "I certainly didn't expect to get in a fire fight with known mobsters, but I don't mind putting away a few pieces of slime who need it."

"Put them away!?" Peck demanded. "Did you happen to forget you *worked* with a bunch of them to capture us!?"

"Once, Peck. I did it once, and I've never repeated it." Decker crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes as he shook his head. "Despite what Smith thinks, I *do* have a personal code of ethics...."

"He never said you didn't." Face blinked and looked up at Decker. "He just doesn't like the fact that you let innocent civilians die...."

"Those were wars, Peck, and I was assigned missions by people who knew I could get the job done. No one, at the time, asked *how* I got it done, only that I did. It wasn't until *after* the wars that the damned political assholes bowed to pressure from the bleeding heart liberals who demanded retribution for what we did over there. Never *mind* the fact that our people were being mowed down by the very women and children we were supposed to be liberating, and when we fought back, when we tried to save our lives, we were suddenly the Bad Guys. I had men to protect, Lieutenant, and I did it to the best of my ability, and damn anyone to hell who thinks it was easy, or that I played with peoples' lives with no thought or even regret...."

"I was there, Colonel." Peck's voice was low. "You don't have to tell me what went on. A lot of people had to make hard decisions, and a lot of mistakes were made.... especially in the heat of battle."

"I didn't make mistakes, Lieutenant." Decker whirled angrily and glared into Peck's face. "I did what I was ordered to and kept my men alive. Whenever I saw a threat, I eliminated it before it could eliminate us."

"Shoot first, ask questions later, is that it?" Peck grimaced, and Decker frowned.

"I'm not the one who ended up in a P.O.W. camp, Lieutenant. Think about that one."

Peck's lips narrowed, and nothing but pride shown in his eyes. Decker watched, once more fascinated with the Lieutenant's mercurial moods. "And Hannibal kept us alive while we were in one, Decker." Peck said, his voice cold. "Think about that one."

For a moment, Decker did think about it, and after a few moments, he shrugged. "We could debate the merits of different command decisions all night, but it won't change the fact that, one way or the other, we all got out alive. We lived. You lived. No amount of argument will change anything for either of us." He finally said, and Peck sighed.

"No, I guess it won't at that."

"So shut up and go to sleep." Decker ordered and resumed his position on the desk. He leaned his head back against the wall, and it was blessedly silent for all of five minutes.

"I've got to pee." Peck said, and Decker banged his head against the wall.

"Hold it." He ordered.

"C'mon, Decker!" Peck all but whined. "It's been hours! I'm sorry if this is inconvenient, but I really need to go!" Decker grumbled under his breath, got off the desk, grabbed the black plastic wastebasket, and filled it with newspapers. He took it over to Peck, who looked at it, then his hands. "I can't do anything with my hands like this. And even if they were free, they're so numb right now, I couldn't use them for anything."

"And you aren't getting the chance." Decker said, and reached for the younger man's belt.

"Hey!" Peck protested. "What are you doing!?"

"Do you want to go through your pants?" The Colonel asked.

"Uh.... no."

"Then shut up and get this over with." He undid the belt, and swallowed as he opened the man's pants. He ignored the smooth skin under his fingers, at least, he tried to ignore it, as he shimmied the pants down pale hips, and he raised his eyebrows as his fingers brushed over a few scattered, wiry curls. "Thought you were a Ranger, not a Commando." He commented as he forced himself to look at the man's face, and not his exposed flesh. The man actually blushed, though he gave no other outward sign of any kind of emotion at all.

"Oh, ha ha." The Con-man snorted. "Let's just get this over with, all right?"

"You're the one who has to take a piss." Decker shrugged, gritted his teeth, and took the man's appendage in his fingers. His mouth went dry and he swallowed, hard, as he fought the urge to move his hand over the smooth shaft. Once more he forced his gaze upward, and saw that Peck's eyes were firmly focused on the wall over his shoulder, and his hands were clenched into tight fists. Every muscle in his body was tense, and Decker sighed. "It'd probably be easier if you relaxed a bit, Lieutenant."

"Relax!?" Peck stared at him, his eyes wide, and blood suffused his face. "You want me to relax!? I've just gone through an earthquake, got buried in a rat infested hole with my worst enemy...." He thought for a moment and shook his head. "Well, one of the worst of them at any rate, I've had my hands tied over my head for gods knows how many hours, I'm going to be used to betray my entire team, and one of my worst enemies is holding my...." He blushed once more. "Me, in his hands, and you want me to relax!?"

Decker couldn't help it. He laughed. "You!?" He demanded. "I'm holding 'you' in my hands!? Damn, man, from all I've heard, you're one of the greatest seducers some of these civilians have ever met, and supposedly you're real good at what you do, and you can't say penis!?"

"I was raised in Catholic Orphanages." Face snorted. "It's not polite!" Decker suddenly laughed harder, and Face leaned his head against the radiator, and chuckled. "That has to be one of the most absurd things I've ever said, and of all people to have said it to, it had to be you." His shoulders shook, and his laughter, almost hysterical in its intensity, joined Decker's. A moment later, a stream of water dribbled into the wastebasket. When it was over, Decker shook the appendage he held, dry, and put the basket in the farthest corner of the room. Once Peck's pants were back where they were supposed to be, he went back over to his position on the desk, and Peck cleared his throat.

"Thank you." He said, and Decker snorted.

"Don't mention it. And I mean that. Don't *ever* mention it."

"Deal." Peck's voice sounded quietly, and for a long while, silence reigned. Suspicious of it, he looked over at Peck, and his breath caught very firmly in his throat. The younger man's head was leaned back against the radiator, his eyes were closed, and his mouth was slightly parted.

Decker licked his lips and replayed the feel of Peck's silky skin as his fingers had skimmed over it, and the smooth shaft that had so tantalized them. He looked at the closed eyes and wondered if the stories of the younger man's prowess had really been true. He looked at the small 'v' that Peck's collar left visible at the base if his neck, and he wondered if Peck's chest were as smooth as the rest of his skin, and what color the man's eyes would turn if he slowly stroked his way down that 'v'.

He almost groaned aloud, and mentally slapped himself hard and repeatedly. What the *hell* was he thinking!? Or, more to the point, what was he thinking *with*!? He hadn't cheated on his wife ever, and even if he hadn't been married, Peck was his prisoner! The con was his ticket to a promotion! He was also an arrogant, slimy eel who thought nothing of using people to get what he wanted. Still, though, up close and damned personal, he was good looking.... and well built too.... far better than Decker had ever suspected. Peck was a good deal more courageous than he'd given him credit for before too. It was also clear that the younger man was completely loyal to his Unit.... an admirable trait in a soldier, even if that loyalty *was* to Smith and his freaks. The bastard even had a damned good sense of humor.

Decker ran a hand over his face and closed his eyes as his mind warred with his body. He turned off the penlight, leaned his head against the wall, and with the fine-tuned ability of a soldier to nab his sleep wherever and whenever he could, he too dozed off.



Part 8


He was suddenly jerked out of his sleep as a small cry penetrated the darkness. He was instantly alert, and he flicked on the penlight. He shined it on Peck, who jerked in his sleep and whimpered. His head moved back and forth, his hands clenched and unclenched, and sweat dripped down the sides of his face. Decker easily saw that he was caught in a dream.... and not a pleasant one. Face's movements quickened and were more erratic, and the penlight glinted off a tear that slowly ran down his cheek. Another cry left him, and Decker sighed as he climbed off the desk.

"No!" Peck suddenly howled and threw his head back. "Stop!"

"Peck!" Decker barked. "Wake up." He didn't place his hands anywhere near Peck, as he knew his Ranger training would more than likely kick in, and Decker would be dead before either one of them could stop it. Peck's body shook as if he were a leaf in a hurricane, and Decker growled. "Damn it, Lieutenant, wake up!" He all but yelled, and Peck came awake with a lurch. Decker was suddenly caught by blue eyes that were filled with more terror than any man's eyes ought to have held, particularly a man who couldn't have been more than in his very late twenties or at the latest, early thirties. Decker felt ill as he was all but sucked inside that miasma of terror, and almost physically yanked himself away from the younger man.

Damn, that kid could kill with those eyes.

"Hannibal!?" Peck called, obviously confused, and Decker snorted.

"Not this time." He answered, and Peck straightened in the chair and blinked, then swallowed as he looked up at Decker.

"Oh." He said. "I remember now."


"I bet I put on quite a show." Peck looked at him, and once more there was nothing but pride in his eyes, and Decker, for some reason, found that he was angry with the younger man.

"If I hadn't been asleep myself, I probably would have watched it as it played out. But, as it was, I had to go to the bathroom, and your yelling would have broken my concentration." He turned, walked to the wastebasket, relieved himself, zipped back up, and walked back to the desk, even as Peck wrinkled his nose, squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and shook his head.

"Hmph." He snorted. "You probably would have videotaped it and played it for the newspapers."

"Yeah, Peck. After all, everyone knows how much I love to see people in pain. Especially when they're being tortured. After all, I'm the evil Colonel who's never done any good in his life, while Hannibal Smith is the god who's never done any wrong." Decker's voice was suddenly bitter and he scowled angrily at the Lieutenant. "And you know what? Not only would I play it for all the newspapers everywhere, I'd add full Dolby Stereo sound and make an epic picture out of it. I might even win an Oscar. What do you think, Peck? Does that sound like fun?"

Peck blinked rapidly, once more screwed his face up, and shook his head. "No." He said, as he wrinkled and unwrinkled his nose several times. "And no one's ever said that you're evil, Decker. Even Hannibal's never accused you of that." He blinked rapidly and bent his head toward his upper arm, but it wouldn't reach. "And Hannibal isn't always right." He stuck out his tongue and stretched his neck once more toward his arm, and Decker threw his arms up in frustration.

"Just *what* in the *hell* are you doing!?" He demanded, and Peck looked at him, his eyes wide, obviously startled.

"My eyes itch." He blinked and wrinkled his nose. "And there's a tear trailing down my cheek and it itches too."

"Oh for crying out loud." Decker stomped over to Peck, and reached for his face. As he did, however, Peck flinched backward. "Damn it, Peck, I'm just going to rub your damned eyes. Don't be so damned jumpy."

"Hey, when someone who doesn't like me reaches for my face, I have a tendency to pull away because there's usually a fist coming next." He blinked. "Of course, when people I do like reach for my eyes I still pull away, because usually there's fingernails ready to claw them out."

"Well, maybe if you were a little more faithful to those you supposedly care for, they'd have no reason to want to injure you." Decker bent over Peck, who licked his lips nervously and blinked as Decker slowly reached out with his hands, and stroked his thumb over Face's eyelids as the younger man closed them. Peck's breath was warm on his neck, and lightly tickled the hairs along the older man's nape. He compressed his lips and traced a path down to the offending tear and wiped it away with his fingertips.

Even with a beard shadow, Peck's skin was amazingly soft, and it was all Decker could do to pull himself away from those oh-so-tempting lips without tasting one drop of the sweat that had left salt deposits in the corners. He almost beat his head against the wall once more, and he let out a breath he hadn't even known he held as he leaned on his arms over the desk.

"Thank you." Peck said, and Decker nodded, then they both looked up as the lights suddenly came on.

Both men blinked in the sudden brightness, and Decker grinned. "Won't be long now, Peck."

"Look, Decker. Come on, surely we can come to some kind of agreement. I mean, if you catch us, and even if you get that promotion, you'll be right back where you started." Peck looked over at him, and his eyes were serious. "Once you catch us and turn us in, you'll still be close to retirement, a retirement they'll force on you, just to get rid of you. You'll be a hero for a day, Decker, and I know you want more than that." Peck's words sped up, and he all but stared at Decker. "Chasing us gives you as much of a thrill as avoiding you does Hannibal. The Army needs you now, Decker. Even you can see that once they don't need you, they'll put you away in that same pasture they pulled you out of. I mean, come on, they were so full of praise for you when they pulled you in, weren't they? Told you how needed you were. How they were sorry that you'd been all but ignored. Told you that you were the best hope they had, and promised you a promotion. It's the oldest con in the book...." He blinked. "Well, one of the oldest, and all you'll get for your trouble is to be a higher rank than you are now and a few more dollars that will go back to where they came from come tax time." Decker looked into Face's eyes, and there was more than a touch of desperation in them.

"What makes you think chasing you gives my life meaning?" He snorted. "My wife and my daughter give my life meaning, Peck, and when I retire, I'm going to buy a Bed and Breakfast in Maine for my wife."

"Maine?" Peck blinked, and Decker's eyes narrowed.

"Yes, Maine. There's nothing wrong with Maine, and Candice and Miranda love it there. But that has absolutely nothing to do with you whatsoever. The only thing the A-Team has ever done for me is to give me an ulcer."

"I see." Peck blinked, and he once more looked up at Decker, and the desperation in his eyes had crept into his voice. "Okay, fine. But you know, I have all kinds of contacts all over the world. I know lots of people who would be more than willing to invest in a Bed and Breakfast. Hell, a Bed and Breakfast with a maple syrup farm and demonstrations would really go over big up there. I could make it happen for you...."

"I am perfectly capable of buying my wife's retirement gift, Peck." Decker all but snarled, and Peck swallowed.

"I'm not saying you aren't, it's just I thought you might want some investment help, but I guess not." He shifted in his seat and looked at the lights as they flickered, but stayed on, and he licked his lips. "I can get all kinds of things, Decker, not just that. Isn't there anything, anything at all you'd want? I mean, in exchange for letting me go? Just this once? I mean, it wasn't really a fair deal here, especially with the earthquake and all, and even you admitted it was an accident. I mean, what are you going to tell all your Army buddies about how you caught the A-Team? You were going for some paint and a brass towel bar and just happened to spot me? After all the time you've spent chasing me, all the money, all the wrecked vehicles, surely this is an anti-climactic ending to an otherwise spectacular tale!?"

Decker blinked. He hadn't really thought about that. Peck did have a point about that. It wouldn't look very heroic at all if he actually admitted it had been nothing more than a lucky quirk that had helped him capture the A-Team.

Suddenly, he scowled, and, as hard as he could, he punched his fist into the top of the desk. The damned punk was working his Con-man's magic on him, and damned if he wasn't falling for it hook, line, and sinker!

"Knock it off, Peck!" He commanded, his voice nothing short of a raging bark, as he whirled on the man. He was gratified to note that Peck jumped, and he stalked over to him, grabbed the man's lapels in his fists, and shook him hard enough for Peck's perfect teeth to knock together. "I've had just about enough of your mouth...."

Suddenly, that damned pride, that indomitable spirit, that arrogance, and that damned defiance that pissed off almost everyone with any kind of authority, and that included the criminals the A-team often put away, that the slippery, slimy, little two bit Con came in contact with, entered the man's eyes, and all Decker knew was unadulterated, blind anger.

At that moment, all that Decker wanted, was to break that damned spirit, and he knew *exactly* how to do it. A slow, cold grin crossed his face, and Peck cleared his throat.

"Um, Decker?" He cleared his throat again. "You're crushing my lapels there. You want to let go?"

Decker's eyes narrowed and his voice was cold. "You asked if there were anything I wanted that would make the loss of the A-Team worth it to me." The older man said, and his grin grew ever wider.

"Thought of something?" Peck asked, as a slow smile crossed his face, and Decker nodded.

"I want you." He said, and Peck's mouth dropped open.

"What?" He asked, shocked, and Decker pulled on the younger man's lapels until the two men were only inches apart.

"You've whored yourself out for things that Smith's wanted, now let's see if you're willing to do it *literally* for him. For him, for Baracus, *and* for that crazy pilot."

"I'm not.... I don't...." Peck's eyes widened, and he shook his head.

"I'm tired of hearing nothing but talk come out of that pretty mouth of yours. Put up or shut up, Peck." Decker grinned wolfishly, and Peck blinked.

"All right." He finally said and swallowed. "I...."

"*My* terms, Peck." Decker said as he unbuckled his pants and pushed them down to his ankles. "You'll notice I like the commando look as well." He crossed his hands over his chest. "I've heard a lot of people say how good you are. Now prove it."


Part 9


Peck opened his mouth, and Decker didn't shove himself into the warmth that surrounded him, he didn't grab Peck's head, nor did he thrust, no matter how much he wanted to. He tipped his head back as Peck worked on him, and realized that none of those he'd talked to had lied. Peck was just as talented with a silent mouth as he was when he spoke. Decker inhaled deeply, looked down, and frowned as he saw that Face's head was down.

"I want to see your face." He said, and dutifully, Peck raised his eyes. Decker gazed into the blue eyes that looked up at him, and his scowl darkened. Peck's aspect and his eyes were dull. His mouth was working and working well, but there was no emotion on his face, or indeed, in his eyes, at all.

It was purely business.

And that knowledge pissed Decker off even more.

"I'm not one of your cons." He suddenly hissed, and pushed Peck's head away from him. "If you want me to let Smith go, you're going to have to do better than that."

"What do you want?" Peck was confused, and Decker's eyes flickered over Peck's body.

"I want the real thing. I want the whole package."

"You want me to fuck you." Peck's aspect was flat, and Decker's eyes narrowed. He'd been told how good Peck was at fucking too, but he didn't want to add to the list of conquered, he wanted *to* conquer, and his grin widened.

"No. I want to fuck you."

The change that suddenly came over Peck almost unnerved Decker, but he watched in silence as Peck's eyes went almost round with shock. "What?" His voice was a mere squeak, and Decker frowned.

"Did I suddenly start to speak Greek, Lieutenant?" He demanded.

"No.... no, Sir." Peck automatically responded to the authority in Decker's voice and he grimaced as if he'd made a slip.

"Then, Lieutenant, let me fuck you, or I'll go after Smith and the others, and you can all have a nice reunion in a military stockade."

"Are.... are you sure you wouldn't rather I fuck you? I.... I mean, I'm good at what I do, really, and there's not much I can do for you on the bottom."

"Lieutenant, you'll do a lot more than you realize." Decker shrugged. "But, if you're changing your mind...." He started to pull up his pants, but Peck licked his lips nervously and shook his head.

"No. No. It isn't that." His eyes drifted around the room, and he finally settled on a spot on the far wall. "It's just that no one.... I mean, I haven't bottomed in a long time."

"Then it's high time you did. It's a small thing to ask for the freedom of *each* one of the A-Team members, don't you think?"

"Yes. I.... I just have one favor to ask." Peck's words seemed to suddenly come out of some stranger, and Decker narrowed his eyes and gazed into Peck's pale aspect.

"What?" He demanded, and he knew that something was wrong, but decided that if Peck didn't tell him what was wrong, then it was his problem and not Decker's.

"Let me look at you. Don't.... don't turn me over."

"I like seeing who I'm fucking anyway." Decker said, and Peck actually breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Colonel." Peck said, and Decker nodded. He reached down and opened Peck's pants, exactly as he had before. It felt different that time, though, and he looked at the face of the man who had just agreed to be his whore. The face was pale, the lips were compressed, and his eyes all but bore into Decker's. He maneuvered the pants down the same hips they'd been pushed down before, but the muscles beneath his fingers were tight and contracted. It was as if Peck were holding himself in some sort of tight control. Decker pulled off Peck's shoes, removed his pants, and gazed at the lower body of the man that, at least for that moment, was his.

Almost in a trance, he traced his hand over a well formed knee, traced a light path up a muscular thigh, and then he paused as he felt something odd. Peck's leg trembled. A moment later, it was stopped, and every muscle contracted once more. However, the minute Decker moved his hand, the tremor returned.

He looked up and frowned as he looked into Peck's face and saw only resignation, and as hard as he obviously tried to hide it, there was fear in his eyes as well.

"Why'd you stop? This is what you want. Please, Colonel. Just do it and get it over with." Peck's voice was low, and as hard as he tried to control it, it trembled.

Decker looked into Peck's eyes and though he saw no pride, it wasn't the way he wanted things to go. He wasn't a rapist, he was a conqueror. However, if he took Peck as he was, then rape was exactly what it would be.

He removed his hand from Peck's thigh, reached down, and took his keys from his pocket. He opened the small penknife that was on the ring, and straddled the younger man. He barely touched Peck's lap as he stood over him and looked down into his ashen aspect as he slowly raised the penknife over the Lieutenant's head. Peck's eyes widened as he watched the progress of the knife as it sliced through one of the plastic ties, then the other, and his arms were freed. Decker waited a moment, slowly took one of the scraped hands into his, and gently massaged it until Peck grimaced in pain, which indicated the return of circulation, and Decker did the same to the other one. Decker knew that Peck wouldn't fight him. Not then, at any rate. After all, he still held the fates of the other three members of the Team in his hands, and they both knew it.

"Decker." Peck stared at the man. "What's going on? What are you doing?"

Decker blinked at him, then placed his first finger on Peck's lips in the international 'shushing' sign. Peck licked his lips nervously, but he subsided, and Decker smiled, though it was genuine. He bent over Peck, ran the side of his head against Peck's, and felt his short wiry hair as it mingled with the golden silk. He closed his eyes and kissed Peck's forehead, his eyes, nose, cheeks, and one by one, he lightly traced the curve of the younger man's ears, down to his jawline. He drew the very tip of his tongue along Peck's jawline to his chin, then up, through the indentation, until his tongue landed on the pale pink softness that was Peck's lips. Peck started to kiss Decker back, but the Colonel pulled away, and shook his head. Peck's eyebrows lifted toward his hairline, but he got the message, and when Decker placed his lips where they had been, Peck's mouth parted, but he made no move to kiss back. Decker was free to explore, and he did. He traced the outline of Face's lips with his tongue. He tasted the salt in the corners, where the sweat from the nightmare had settled. He gently nibbled the flesh, and pulled downward on the fullness of his lower lip, which encouraged Peck to open his mouth even further. Decker's tongue then touched the straight, white teeth, and pushed beyond, into the warm cavern. He tickled Peck's upper palate, and soothed it as he touched his own tongue to Peck's. Slowly, ever so slowly, he brought his hands up to Peck's face, and cupped his cheeks in hands that though they had killed all manner of beings, were gentle almost to the extreme. He felt Peck's breathing as it sped up, and the man swallowed hard as his eyes half closed. Inwardly, Decker smiled, almost victoriously, though he never made any outward sign of his triumph.

Finally, he closed his mouth over Peck's and wordlessly gave the man permission to kiss him back. When he did, Decker was almost, not quite, but almost, brought down. The kid was one hell of a good kisser. He gave as good as he was allowed to, and by the time Decker broke the kiss, both of them panted shallow breaths.

Peck went to speak once more, but Decker frowned, and Peck lowered his eyes. Decker smiled softly and ran a light finger over Peck's well kissed lips, and before the other man could acknowledge that, Decker bent over him and his tongue entered the small cleft in Peck's chin. He slowly trailed it downward, over the obviously sensitive skin of Face's neck. He spent a long time as he nuzzled, tasted, sucked, and nibbled on that sensitive skin, and Peck almost vibrated beneath him as his hands clutched at the seat of the chair. Finally, Decker took pity on him, and delved his tongue into the 'v' that had so tantalized him earlier.

A small moan left Peck, and again Decker hid his triumphant grin, even as his fingers worked the silk tie from its knot, and he slowly slid it from around Peck's sensitized throat. He all but tore another small moan from the Lieutenant, and he gently lifted the wrists he'd so abused earlier, and pressed them lightly together. He wrapped the silk tie around them several times, and gently tied them together. He held onto the tied wrists and looked at Peck. The younger man licked his lips and nodded once as he again submitted to Decker's unspoken order.

Satisfied, Decker again traced his lips and tongue into the 'v'. As he suckled the soft, slightly stubbled flesh, as slowly as could be done without driving someone insane, one by one, he unbuttoned each and every one of Peck's shirt buttons and placed small, light, kisses where each button had been.

Another small moan was torn from the younger man as Decker never removed his tongue from his skin, and ran it back up to the beginning. Peck suddenly arched backward as gentle nibbles traced a hot path over his shoulders and down his arms as Decker's hands slowly slid the shirt off of them until it hung, open and loosely, from the crooks of his elbows.

Decker bent over the exposed man once more, and his tongue traced lazy circles all over his chest and stomach.... all over that was, except for the nipples that rose from Face's chest. Decker traced a path around them, he breathed on them, he lightly kissed the darker areola, but he studiously avoided touching the nipples themselves. It was only when Peck arched into every touch, every nibble, every kiss, and made completely involuntary sounds of disappointment that Decker finally latched onto one, and the reaction was immediate and made every moment of self denial worth his efforts.

Peck arched into Decker's mouth and a loud cry left his throat as his head went back and his eyes closed. He repeated the movement when Decker stroked the other one. It was only after he'd ripped a few more cries from the Lieutenant, that he moved his mouth away from the highly responsive nipples, and moved downward once more.

They were both hard and ready for whatever came next, but Decker wasn't anywhere *near* finished with Peck, and he smiled as he slid off the man's lap, and to his knees on the floor. Peck's eyes opened, then widened, and Decker slowly parted the satiny legs until he fit between them. However, rather than 'go for the gold' as he'd heard someone once say, he ran his hands over Peck's shins. His fingers gently skimmed over the fine hair, traced their way down the edges of his muscles, and found their way back up to his knees via the firm muscles at the back of his legs.

Peck's legs trembled as he forced himself to remain still, and Decker rewarded his efforts with tiny kisses that he placed over Peck's ankles, the backs of his legs, and he took his time as he sucked on the flesh behind the Lieutenant's knees. Slowly, obviously beyond any kind of control of his own, the Lieutenant's knees opened further, and Decker inched his way further into the crevice that allowed him access.

His hands traced over Peck's thighs with the same deliberate slowness he had over his shins, and Peck's legs trembled harder, faster, and under less control than they had previously. Decker traced his tongue over the inner flesh of Peck's legs, wrapped his arms around Peck's upper thighs, and slid his forearms under the back of his thighs until his hands gripped the firm muscles of Peck's lower buttocks.

A moment later, Peck all but wailed, bucked in his grip, and his entire body convulsed as Decker wrapped his mouth around the member he'd held what seemed a hundred years ago. It was a testament to Peck's experience and control that he didn't come right then and there, but whereas Peck had experience and control, Decker had experience, control, age, *and* practice, and he slowly drew the entire length and diameter of the man inside his mouth, and pulled it back out just as slowly. Peck arched his back, threw his head back, closed his eyes, and his mouth opened in wild pants as he obviously, desperately fought the urge to come.

Decker licked the underside of Face's testicles and his saliva dribbled downward, over Peck's center and the fingers that were there. The liquid pooled in his hands, and he sat up straighter, pushed his arms under Peck a little further, and swallowed Peck once more, even as his sodden fingers massaged the small, puckered opening that was his ultimate goal.

The finger finally slipped inside, and gently, centimeter by centimeter, he pushed it further in until he touched the one spot he knew would completely make Peck lose any and all control, particularly after such long foreplay.

And he was right.

Peck let out a scream, a literal scream, and his entire body convulsed so hard, he fell out of the chair onto the floor. Decker took in everything Peck gave out, and as Peck lay limply on the floor, Decker spit the mixture of semen and saliva onto his hand and gingerly touched the head of his own swollen member. A member which begged for release, but there was only one place he was going to release it, and it was going to be inside Peck.

He looked into Peck's half-closed eyes, and saw more than emptiness, resignation, and fear. He saw pleasure. He saw excitement and anticipation. He saw exhaustion, and as he gently held Peck's legs open, and continued to massage the opening which had so eagerly accepted his first finger, until it just as eagerly accepted two others, he saw the one emotion he'd wanted to see from the moment he'd started.

He saw defeat.

However, there was one more thing he wanted to see in those ocean blue eyes, and it was the one thing he hadn't. He twisted his fingers inside the man below him, and Peck all but writhed on the floor. He wasn't finished with Peck until he saw the one emotion he'd waited for since the moment he'd started his seduction, and he was going to make the man ask for it.

It wasn't a long wait.

"Decker.... please." Peck panted, and though it was clear that everything in him railed against his words, there was no way he could stop them, any more than he could stop his member as it sprang forth, hard and ready once more. "C'mon! Fuck me!" He actually begged, and Decker barely managed to hide his arrogant grin of triumph. One more emotion to see in those clear blue eyes, and Decker knew that his revenge would be complete, and he knew that it was only moments away.

The power he felt at the very moment he positioned himself over Peck's body as the man heaved breaths was more exhilarating, more intoxicating than anything he'd felt in a very long time, and as Peck's body accepted him fully, he placed the still bound hands over his head until they rested on his shoulders, and ever-so-gently slid in and out of the young, beautiful man.

Decker's body ached, he was drenched in sweat, he was as thirsty as he could ever remember being, and as he continued to hold his own climax back, his member almost went lax with the effort. However with the rigid control that only innumerable years in the Army could develop, he regained the necessary mastery over his body and continued to thrust into the man beneath him. After a gratifyingly small stretch, Peck's body rose to meet Decker's. His eyes squeezed tightly shut, his blond head all but ground into the floor, his loud cries filled the small office, his sweat ran down his sides and soaked into the newspapers and magazines beneath them, his arms tightened around Decker's thrusting body, and his nails bit into the older man's back.

Decker's only thought at that moment was that with each cry, each thrust, and each uncontrolled shudder of Peck's body as he brought him closer and closer to another orgasm, he paid Peck back, he paid Smith back, he paid Baracus back, and he paid that damned pilot back for every jibe they'd made at his expense, every humiliation they'd caused him, and every time they'd escaped from him.

Suddenly, Peck's entire body arched under Decker's, and his nails raked the man's back as his entire body froze. A loud cry was all but torn from him once more and warm liquid spilled between them. When it was over, Decker looked into Peck's eyes and he finally saw the one emotion he'd looked for.

He saw humiliation.

As if that were the catalyst he needed, his own body exploded into Peck's, and after what seemed an hour, his almost violent orgasm finally ended. He collapsed, completely bone-dead, exhausted, sated, and vindicated, and rested his head and sweat-soaked body on Peck's.




Definitions of Gallantry by Charon
Definitions of Gallantry 2 by Charon



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