Story idea adopted from AUNTIE HILL.
Disclaimer : I do not own the A team I just play with them.
Summary; A woman from Face's past needs the help of the team, because she thinks she is being stalked. The police think it is all in her head. She knew Face as a kid on the streets and is writing a book about being a teenage runaway.
Hannibal stood in the kitchen doorway watching Face with this girl on the veranda. Face was being very defensive, the language of his body was screaming go away. Kara was crying and shouting back at a bewildered Lieutenant.
Face got to his feet and yelled back. "What do you want Kara? It was a long time ago, another life. What do you expect me to do, welcome you back with open arms?"
Kara shrank back, visibly shaken. "You know what!" She spat back. "I would expect that from anyone else, but not you Templeton. You were there, you know what went on. I need you!" She seethed.
Face glowered, he knew and god did it hurt to remember. He'd been so scared all alone at 11 years old on the streets. Kara had been a few years older, and a lot wiser. She'd protected him and taken a vicious beating for him, more than once. The last time he'd seen her was when she had stepped in on his behalf when he'd become the quarry of the local pimps. She had told him to run, disappear and he had. Right into the arms of one of the nuns of the orphanage where he was destined to grow up real quick.
That was along time ago; another time, another place. Now Kara had knocked on the door out of the blue. She brought back a lot of unwelcome memories and feelings, including fear.
Face sighed and put his hands up palms facing Kara. "Ok, ok. Just tell me how you found me?" He asked.
Kara sat down on the nearby chair. "One of the nuns at the Orphanage remembered me being with you the night they found you. She gave me this address." Kara replied as she started to cry. "McGregor is following me and I'm so scared, so scared Templeton, I didn't know where else to go."
Face's expression softened as he sat down by her side and pulled her close as she sobbed. He could feel her shaking. This time it was his turn to be the strong one, the protector and defender. He closed his eyes as he took a deep breath as a stray tear crawled down his sallow cheek.
Hannibal watched his eyes narrowed as he saw the lieutenant hold Kara. This was an area of the lieutenant's past he rarely spoke about to anyone. Not even Murdock knew. Mind you, after the Stockwell nightmare, maybe this would help the Team get back on and even keel. Hannibal puffed on his cigar as he shut the kitchen door and walked back to refill his empty coffee cup.
Face sat on the couch and swallowed hard. Biting his lip, he looked up at his family. He really wasn't sure he wanted them to know about that part of his past. No, that wasn't fair. He wasn't sure he was ready to tell them. That would be more accurate.
He took a deep breath. "I owe Kara my life, simple as that," he started. "She took what was meant for me." He trailed away, not quite wanting to accept the cruel sting of the truth.
Hannibal frowned. "Face you were a child, don't beat yourself up about it. But that doesn't mean I don't want to silence that scum permanently!" he finished.
Face sighed heavily, he knew Hannibal meant well. But he still couldn't shake the utter dread in his heart. He stood up and poured himself bourbon, no ice, and sank the shot in one. He rolled the glass in his palms. "These guys aren't the usual scumbags, as you put it, that we are used to dealing with. They're a breed apart Hannibal. Jesus they make even Dante seem like a pussycat." Face replied visibly whitening at the memories of Dante, still raw and painful.
BA bristled in the corner of the room as he watched Kara swinging on the bench on the stoop. She looked like she'd had to grow up even faster than Face, which in itself made BA mad. The added fact that these people were picking on kids as defenseless, as vulnerable as they had been, and Kara, still was just made his blood boil.
Murdock sat on the kitchen table absentmindedly rolling three silver balls in his hand. Given to him by the stand-in-doc at the VA, they were to be his proverbial psychiatric shoulder to lean on when the doc was on vacation. Which was where the doc just happened to be right now. These had been plain silver balls about the size of small pool balls, now they were different colors and named. Supposedly what he was doing with them would relieve stress. Beating the crap out of this guy who obviously haunted Face seemed far more appealing right now.
Hannibal puffed on his cigar and as he listened to Face. "Ok, so we got a case. Now is Mohammed gonna come to the mountain or is the mountain gonna go to Mohammed?" He asked as he opened the porch door.
Kara turned and looked at Face, who slowly nodded. She sprang to her feet and ran to him, landing him with a warm hug and a quiet "Thank you". She wiped the tears away, holding onto Face like a frightened child clinging to its mother after being separated from her. Face looked at Hannibal as their eyes met he mouthed, "Thank you."
Hannibal puffed at his cigar, eyeing his men while he thought to himself. With a twinkle in his eye, which hadn't been there in a long while, 'the jazz was a'cumin' and didn't it feel good.
Face drove down the highway, Kara beside him. It hadn't taken long to retrieve her minimal belongings from the shelter run by the nuns. The radio was on, although neither of them was really listening to it. Kara was quiet; she stared out the window at the beach as they sped past.
"Temp can we stop?" She asked timidly, without moving her eyes off the sand to her right. Face glanced at his watch. It was getting late, and although the sunset was beautiful, he sighed as he pulled over.
"We can't be long Kara, it just isn't safe out here. You know what I mean?"
She nodded as she stepped out the car and sat on the bonnet of Face's beloved vette. Face joined her and saw the tears in her eyes.
"I'm sick of running Temp, sick of hiding. I mean, I know you've been on the run for a long time, but it's different for me. I, um." She trailed away as she wiped the tears away.
Face frowned; he began to feel distinctly uneasy. He saw the van pull up beside the vette and as the door was opened, he recognized the occupant instantly.
Stockwell smiled at the shock he saw on Peck's face.
"You look like you've seen a ghost, Lieutenant!" He snarled as one of his goons grabbed Face.
Face looked at Kara, unable to comprehend what was happening.
Face looked around the room he was in, he still wasn't sure what the hell was going on. One thing he did know, BA had killed Stockwell, how could he be alive? Why had Kara set him up? He sat on the bed confused and more than a little apprehensive. Even weirder, no one had really touched him. He'd been shoved into the room and that was really it. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. Whatever was going on it probably wasn't good, at least for him anyway. He just hoped Hannibal would realize that something was wrong very wrong indeed, soon.
Hannibal glared at Kara; she sat sheepishly on the corner of the sofa with a pile of bank notes on the coffee table. "I'm sorry, I didn't know. That man approached me, said he was trying to find Temp. Said he was an old friend and would give me that money so I could get out the country, away from McGregor for good. He told me he wanted it to be a surprise, which is why we stopped on our way back from getting my stuff. I had no idea what he was going to do, I swear. I just thought it was the best thing for everyone to disappear." She was shaking. "I don't want that bloody money, I want Temp. I'm so sorry." She trailed off painfully aware of the building anger in the room.
"At least you came here to tell us, you could have just gone." Murdock interjected.
Hannibal shook his head slowly. "Kara, if I thought you had had ANY idea what you were doing, don't think for one second you would still be sitting there on that bloody sofa." He seethed. He had a really bad feeling about this. Stockwell had almost killed Face once. What the hell he was doing to him now he didn't wanna contemplate. Little did he realize that they were being watched, not by Stockwell, but Samuel McGregor. Who was sitting perched in a tree watching through his binoculars the activity in the lounge. He had no idea who these people were, all he wanted was the girl, and if he could find him Templeton Peck.
Face shivered as he sat huddled on the bed, the cold was really aggravating his legs. Although they were healed, in cool climates all he felt was pain. He'd told Maggie privately, and she had told him arthritic pain was not surprising considering how badly broken they had been. He hadn't mentioned it to the others; there had never been any need, till now that is. Stuck god knows where, without his pain pills, he felt more than a little vulnerable. He was also hungry. He didn't know how long he'd been there, they'd taken his watch. But judging by the stubble on his chin, at least a night and a morning. He moved to try and get more comfortable but took a deep breath as the pain kicked in.
He heard the door open and looked up. Biting his lip and sweating with agonizing pain, he got to his feet. Icy stare met icy stare. Stockwell's beady eyes seared into him. He didn't feel fear, not any more. What would be the point? Give Stockwell the satisfaction of knowing he was scared. Sod that, he thought to himself, as the goons manhandled him out the room. Past Stockwell, who smiled an evil smile.
"This time Peck you will do things my way," he muttered. "And yes, it may well kill you. Hey, bonus!" He laughed to himself. "And I will dance on your grave. No one is going to blacken the name of my son, not even the mighty A Team!"
Murdock wasn't a happy bunny. He'd tried three of Face's scams to try and find out where Stockwell might have taken the facial one. And nothin, nada, no joy; not even an incy wincey clue. He tapped his fingers on the table as he drank his coffee in the small café just round the corner from Stockwell's old offices. A cute waitress came up and filled his cup. He smiled. "Thank you," he said softly .
"You looked so sad I just had to come over." She replied.
Murdock saw the mischievous twinkle her emerald eyes . "It's that obvious? Darn, and I thought was doin real good at keeping my thoughts to myself, some of them musta have escaped again," he replied.
She laughed. "I can just read people, tis all. You do this job for while and you get the knack of reading people real well. Anything to quell the boredom."
Murdock frowned. "Um I know this may sound a lil strange but have you see anyone in here in a yucky suit? Tacky reflective yellow glasses? Greasy hair?"
"Oh you mean the goon squad as we used to call them. That guy you're describing always left a crappy tip. A few of them were in last week, going on about movin to Alaska. Tomara, or somewhere like that. Why?"
Murdock sprang up and gave her a kiss, his eyes dancing. "Thank you, Joely!" he said reading the little sign on her uniform. "I'll be back to re claim those missin thoughts. Look after them for me, they are very new!" he spluttered as he ran out the door.
Joely laughed as she saw this incredibly cute guy disappear down the road. "Man, that guy can share his loose marbles with me anytime." She muttered.
Face was finding it hard to keep conscious. He was tied to a chair with Stockwell circling him. He was beginning to shake; his blood sugar was low, he'd felt this before.
"Hungry Lieutenant? Thirsty? Dear dear dear. If you just told us you had made all that crap up about my son in Vietnam, I'm sure we could rustle up some nice fresh sparkling water." Stockwell sneered.
Face gasped as he brought his head up to look at Stockwell. "I don't believe in fairy fuckin stories!!!" he replied.
Stockwell bristled and punched Face so hard the chair flew across the room and broke. Face didn't move. Stockwell eyed the crumpled bloodied figure on the floor, it was obvious he was unconscious. But the pool of blood appearing by the side of Peck's face brought a smile to Stockwell's face. 'This was going to be fun,' he thought to himself, as he washed his bloodied knuckle in the sink .
It had been a long flight. BA was sulking in the back of the jeep. He had, for once, taken a sleeping pill voluntarily before the flight, which had surprised the others; he'd merely growled a few profanities aimed at Stockwell. Murdock was also very quiet. In fact there had been little conversation at all since they had landed.
Kara sat beside the fearsome and now very grumpy BA. "Um BA, do you think Temp's gonna be ok?" She asked.
"Anyone touches my lil brother and they have got me to deal with!" BA growled back.
"Lil brother?" Kara sounded surprised.
BA turned and looked at her. "Faceman and us go back a long time Kara. We are his family, and we take care of our own." He replied.
"Ok guys we are here. Wherever the hell here is!" Hannibal said as Murdock stopped the van. The sign read. ...WELCOME TO TOMARA, ENJOY YOUR STAY. 'Hmm,' thought Hannibal, as he puffed on his cigar, wondering whether Face was enjoying his stay.
"He's still unconscious sir." The goon said as he met Stockwell at the door of the room. Stockwell frowned; he walked forward and looked at Peck. Face's breathing was ragged and he was sweating profusely, he was deathly pale.
"Get a drip in him now soldier. That'll bring him round; I don't want him dying on me. Not yet, which would be inconvenient to say the least." He said as turned tail and walked out the room.
"The soldier has a name," muttered the goon. "And it's Samuel McGregor."
Face opened his eyes slowly he felt awful, his head throbbed. He saw the goon standing by the door. There was something very familiar about him. He swallowed hard as he blinked the sweat away. He struggled to sit up, which was a bad idea, he slumped back dizzy.
"Take it easy, Templeton. Your blood sugar dipped way way too low. You'll feel better in a while." The goon said, not taking his eyes off the hall way.
Face frowned. "Who are you?" he rasped.
"For now, your angel of mercy. Which is kind of ironic, since I'm the reason Kara came running to you."
Face couldn't keep conscious anymore. His eyes closed as he slipped back into the welcome arms of sleep, or specifically diabetic coma. The IV simply wasn't strong enough, as McGregor had yet to realize. He slung the limp body of Templeton Peck over his shoulder and scurried out the door. "One down, one to go ..." He muttered as he strapped Peck in the passenger seat. Then sped off down the back street in his beat up old Chevy. Away from Stockwell and away from the other members of the A Team.