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Life Is A Song Cue

by Charon


Rating: G (At Least, I Think It's A G, If Anyone Disagrees, Let Me Know)

Dates Written: June 18th, 2001 - June 19th, 2001

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own ANY of it. NONE of the PEOPLE, that would be Stephen J. Cannell, and certainly NONE of the LYRICS, that would be REM. I absolutely have made NO money what-so-ever on ANY of this, nor do I EVER intend to. This is PURELY for entertainment purposes ONLY, and is DEFINITELY an amateur attempt.

Warnings: Sappy. Sappy. Sappy. (But I Like It)

Summary: Team Needs A Reminder Of What They Are.

Author's Notes: I Have No Idea What Prompted This Tale, I Can Only Hope It's Worthy Of The Song That's In Tt.





            Face walked into the room of the Langley place and looked

around, then sighed. The last mission hadn't been an easy one and it

showed in the attitudes of the men in the room. Face had been beaten

up, Murdock had been grazed by a badly aimed bullet, B.A.'d gotten a

concussion, and Frankie had gotten a jolt when he'd finally learned

how dangerous his formerly safe and uncomplicated world had become.

The plan that had gone so disastrously wrong had been completely

Hannibal's, and Face could tell from the silence in the room that

morale was at an all time low.


            Hannibal sat across the room from everyone with a full glass

of whiskey in his hand, Frankie was at the pool table, but his eyes

were not focused on the game. B.A. stood ramrod straight, his face

more pinched than it normally was as he steadfastly tried to ignore

his pounding headache. Murdock lay on the couch with his leg propped

up, and not one member of the team said a word to any other member in

comfort or accusation, which was utterly uncharacteristic for any of

them, with the possible exception of Face himself. Each man was

entirely wrapped up in their own little world of grief and pain, and

it hurt Face to see his friends, his team, and he included Frankie in

that equation, suffering, and from the emotional buffeting they'd

received as well as the physical.


            He stretched and his joints popped loudly in the silence of

the room. He grimaced in pain as his abused muscles protested the

movement. He knew that the dark, almost black, bruise was still

visible along his cheek, jaw, and ran under his shirt collar, and he

sighed as Hannibal's eyes flickered over to him, then back to his

glass. Frankie gave up on not playing pool and merely looked out the

window into the darkness of the unseasonably cold, Virginia night.

Murdock tossed a small ball into the air, and B.A. merely blinked a

couple of times, but still no one spoke, and no one made eye contact.


            Face knew something had to be done, otherwise the team would

continue to fall apart. He knew that it was up to him to do

something to pull them together and out of the doldrums, for not only

was he the Supply Officer, but he often doubled as the unofficial

recreation officer and morale officer as well. However, it wasn't

often the team had needed him for that, and at the moment, he wasn't

quite sure what he could do. The only thing he was sure of, was what

the team DID need, and it was the one thing they weren't getting, and

that was each other.


            Face titled his head at them, and his quicksilver mind raced

through possibilities. They came together over crises, but the last

thing they needed was another crisis on top of the last one they'd

just had, that had caused the problem in the first place. They also

came together when one of them had been hurt, but they were all

hurting, just for different reasons, and all the reasons went deeper

than mere physical. They came together over good times, but there

had been far too few of those as of late, and suddenly, he found he

was ticked off by that. They needed a reminder that they were still

a team, AND that they could function as one in good times as well as

bad, but what could he do that would remind them of that?


            They couldn't really do anything physical, with Murdock

relegated to the couch with his hurt leg and absolutely bored stiff.

B.A. couldn't move around because of the pain he was in from his

head, despite his best efforts to convince everyone he wasn't

hurting, which only made him more irascible than normal. Mentally,

none of them were up to doing much either, as Frankie had been forced

to face his own mortality, not easy for anyone to do at any time, but

especially at such a young age. Hannibal on the other hand, was so

filled with guilt over the fact that his plan had gotten every single

one of the team hurt in some way, that he questioned his ability to

be able to lead them anymore. And what about himself? Face sighed

and knew that he was hurt more by the fact that his people all

thought they were all alone and yet were obviously desperate to be

with one another at the same time. If they'd truly wanted to be

apart, they'd've relegated themselves to separate rooms throughout

the complex.


            Face looked across the room to where the Grand Piano sat, and

he bit his lower lip. When his heart, mind, and strength was low, he

usually turned to the piano and music, then would play until he felt

better. However, he never really played when the team was around,

except for when they'd ask, and then it was usually something bright

and raucous. The time wasn't right for bright and raucous. It had

to be something soft, gentle, easy, and supportive of the spirit.

            He hesitated and glanced around the room again, as if he

wanted to make certain that nothing else would break the melancholy

that gripped the team. It wasn't that he didn't think he could play

well enough, he knew he could do that, but his music was usually only

for him when he was heartsick, and to raise his own spirits. He'd

never really thought about having to do the same for those he

considered to be his family, and they'd never asked. However, as he

looked at the drawn and pinched faces, he wondered if music would,

and could, do for them what it usually did for him.


            Maybe it would, but only if he picked the right song. He

slowly moved across the room to the piano, sat on the bench, then

looked at the keys. Their familiar colors comforted him, and he

gently ran his fingers over them. He'd tuned the piano himself, and

even the muted notes seemed loud in the room. Face swallowed, and

glanced out of the corners of his eyes at his friends, and wanted

only to take away all their hurt, but what could do that? How could

a Con-man whose smile could light a thousand strangers' faces, make

the hearts of those closest to him a little less weary?


            He looked down at the keys and thought of a song he'd heard

earlier that week on the radio in the van. It'd registered in his

mind at the time, as songs always did when they had a particular

message or decent melody line - even though he'd taken business

classes in college, his first love had always been music, and was

what he responded to in his Soul. He'd certainly responded to that

song, and maybe, just maybe, the rest of the team would as well. He

cast his mind back into the van and drowned out the bickering, the

laughter, the sounds of the normalcy the team so enjoyed, and

concentrated as the music washed through him and the notes filtered

into his consciousness, then he placed his hands on the keys.


            The soft melody flowed through him, and he closed his eyes as

he began to sing.


            "When your day is long and the night. And the night is yours

alone . . ."


            Face didn't see Frankie's head as it slowly came up off the

window, as words the younger knew almost by heart filled the quiet

room, and he watched Face as he rocked gently in time with the rhythm

of the music that played in his head, even as it flowed out through

his fingers.


            "When you're sure you've had enough of this life. Well hang

on. Don't let yourself go, cause everybody cries and everybody

hurts. Sometimes."


            Hannibal set the glass down and looked over at the blond man

at the piano, and wondered if Face truly knew what he looked like as

he sat on the bench and poured his heart into what he played for the

team. Hannibal sighed softly, so as not to interrupt his

Lieutenant, and he knew that none of them could deny that this time,

Face played for the team, and only for the team as a whole.


            "Sometimes everything is wrong. Now it's time to sing along."


            Murdock knew the words to the song as well, and he swallowed,

as Frankie took a line, much to the obvious pleasure of Face, who was

perfectly content to play.


            "When your day is night alone."


            Murdock took the background for Frankie.


            "Hold on. Hold on."


            Frankie smiled at him and took another line.


            "If you feel like letting go."


            And again, Murdock took the background.


            "Hold on. Hold on."


            Frankie inhaled.


            "If you think you've had too much of this life . . ."


            Murdock nodded.


            "Well, hang on."


            They both listened as Face played a minute interlude, then

took over the song again.


            "Cause everybody hurts. Take comfort in your friends.

Everybody hurts."


            Face's rocking motion increased in length, and they could

almost hear the music as it filled his mind and he mentally recalled

the other instruments that swelled and filled the song.


            "Don't throw your hand. Hold on. Don't throw your hand.

You feel like you're alone. No. No. No. You're not alone."


            There was a brief pause in the song, and Face poised his

graceful fingers over the keys as the clock ticked on the wall for a

couple of seconds. B.A. looked over to the piano, and ran a hand

over his eyes. He'd heard the song a few times that he'd worked in

the garage and repaired the van and had liked it, as much as anyone

could like something they used simply for background noise. However,

he knew that the next time he heard it, the song would mean a whole

lot more to him than it ever had before. He gazed at the others in

the living room, and then watched as Frankie slowly, almost as if he

weren't aware of it, drew further into the room. Hannibal left his

drink on the floor, untouched, as he leaned forward in his chair, and

Face's hands once again touched the keys. He raised his face to the

ceiling, his eyes unseeing, as his fingers effortlessly moved over

the keys.


            "If you're on your own in this life. The days and nights are

long. When you think you've had too much of this life . . . to hang

on. Well, everybody hurts, sometimes. Everybody cries, and

everybody hurts."


            There was another brief pause that was filled only by the

clock, and Frankie slowly moved the rest of the way into the room.

Murdock pulled himself to a sitting position and patted the end of

the couch. Tentatively, Frankie sat down as Hannibal stood and made

his own way across the room.


            "Sometimes. But everybody hurts, sometimes. So hold on.

Hold on. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on.

Everybody hurts."


            The music filled the room, and Hannibal stopped by B.A. and

laid his hand on the bigger man's shoulder as Face wrapped up the



            "You are not alone."


            Face let the music fade, and laid his hands in his lap, then

looked around the room and blinked as if he'd had to remind himself

of where he was.


            "Thanks, Face." Hannibal finally said, and a smile lit the

younger man's face that was echoed by various forms of smiles from

his friends - his family - and they all knew that once again, they

truly were a team.



The End!


Life Is A Song Cue by Charon



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