?PG - not too sure
Warnings Some swearing. And it hasn't been edited!
Summary This takes place after the events of Beverley Hills
This is only for character information. 'Ian Salathiel' does exist -
I've worked with him - and he was an even worse doctor than I've given
him credit for! Face has been injured and is on the road to recovery...
or is he?
"Michael... Michael, can you hear me?"
Her voice was persistent but it was the nails pinching his earlobe that
had the desired effect. He opened bleary blue eyes and tried to focus
on the girl's face.
"That's more like it." She smiled as she scribbled something on her
pad. "We were beginning to think that you'd never wake up. How do you
"Dunno... I think... I've got a headache." He croaked through his dry
She was at his side immediately with a glass of iced water and a straw.
" sip it slowly. It'll help your throat."
"Thanks." He swallowed and licked his dry lips. His eyes were
better now and he was almost sure that he didn't recognise his
surroundings. "Er... Where am I?"
"This is the Wilshire Memorial." She replied automatically as she
jotted down his observations on the chart. "You were involved in an accident
on the Ventura Freeway and brought here, Monday night. It's good to see
you awake at last." The nurse smiled at the lost look on his handsome
face. "My name is Liza. I'll be looking after you for the rest of the
day. If there's anything you need just call me ,OK Michael?"
"Yeah, OK. I... Why do you keep calling me that?" He sounded genuinely
puzzled; there was something about the name that didn't quite ring
We found your business card in your wallet when you were brought in.
is your name isn't it?" Liza eyed him with growing concern. Perhaps
there had been more damage done than they had thought.
At first he didn't reply, he was trying to think past his headache to
find a few personal but totally elusive details. "Yeah... It must be...
I guess." He muttered absently running a hand through his fair hair.
"I'm just going to let Dr. Salathiel know that you're awake at last.
I'll just be outside if you need me." She could easily have made the call
from his room but had to escape those penetrating blue eyes. She was
unnerved by the way seemed to follow her every move. "I'll be back before
you know it."
He nodded and began to look around the spartan room. His eyes came to
rest on his identity bracelet. It proclaimed him to one Michael DeLaine,
date of birth unknown.
He had a name. It wasn't much but it was all he had.
The sessions with the hospital's psychologist proved to be little more
than a waste of time. All that had been established was that Michael
DeLaine appeared to be in his early thirties and was probably a native
Californian. He'd had his appendix removed and had a scar on his right
thigh. According to the business card that he clutched as if it was his
lifeline he worked for Fine Arts Magazine in Los Angeles.
Although he wouldn't admit it to anyone Michael De Laine was also a
very worried man.
The slender blonde was lounging by the pool, having just an exhaustive
manicure, when the telephone rang.
"Damn!" She swore as she pondered her still wet nails before gingerly
picking up the receiver. "Fine Art's Magazine, Tina speaking."
"Hello. This is Michael DeLaine. I..."
"Templeton, sweetheart! I wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon.
Where are you?" Hearing his voice she instantly forgot the inevitable
scratches to her nail lacquer. She was remembering all the good times and
dreaming of that promised trip up the coast to St Martins.
"I... I'm in the Wilshire."
He sounded so confused that Tina became a little worried. The Templeton
Peck that she knew was always such a confiden and positive person.
"Temp, honey, are you O.K? Templeton?"
Tina found herself talking to the dailing tone. She sat staring at the
receiver wondering what she should do. After a while she dialled the
number for Templeton's appartment and listened to the phone ring... and
Just as she was about to hang up the call was answered.
"Could I speak to Templeton please? It's Tina."
"Sorry he's not here. We haven't seen him for several days and I'm not
his social secretary."
"I didn't really think her would be." she admitted quietly. "Look are
you Mr Smith? He said I should talk to you if I had a problem."
Receiving an affirmative response Tina continued. "Temp just called me, he
sounded a bit odd but I'm sure it was him. He said he was in the Wilshire
and I think he may be in trouble."
Several hours later the object of such concern was sleeping peacefully
in his hospital room. The analgesia had cured his headache and reduced
the pain in his ankle to a dull ache. The magazine that he'd been
reading was now lying abandoned on the floor.
"Oh isn't he cute." Gushed Murdock in the manner of an old crone cooing
over a new born baby. "White really does suit hime, makes him look
so... angelic. Hey, Colonel, how come he always manages to look so
innocent? When I try it at the V.A., I just end up looking as guilty as hell."
"I don't know Murdock. Perhaps you should try..."
"Don't encourage the fool, man!" Interrupted B.A.. "He'll just get
At that moment a tall distinguished looking man entered the room.
Checking that his patient was still asleep he addressed the rooms other
occupants. "I'm Ian Salathiel, the doctor on this case. I was told that he
had visitors." His gaze settled on the silver haired man and he
contemplated him for a few moments. "I don't suppose you would happen to be
Hannibal glared at his companions to quell their sniggers of amusement.
"No, 'fraid not, but I do act as his next of kin when its necessary.
The name's Smith."
"That's fine Mr Smith. Could I have a few words with you outside?
Salathiel stepped aside to allow the men to leave the room.
Only two of them moved towards the door. Baracus seated himself on the
only available chair. "I'll stay with him, Hannibal. It don't take
three of us to listen to a doctor."
"Physically he's fine, apart from the torn ligament in his leg and the
extensive superficial bruising he sustained in the crash. He should be
up and around in a few days despite being so badly shaken up."
Salathiel leant back against the wall, staring anywhere but at the two men in
front of him.
Hannibal picked up on the lack of the customary eye contact. " Look,
Doc, what is it you're not telling us?" He asked around his unlit cigar,
his blue eyes boring into the doctor to guage his sincerity.
"Doc? He is alright, isn't he?" Asked Murdock grabbing hold of the
doctor's arm and dragging him off the wall.
"Murdock, take it easy. I'm sure that the doctor will tell us what's
bothering him, given time." Hannibal ordered pointedly.
"Am I that obvious?" Salathiel sighed. He hated having to break bad
news to people but as a junior intern he had no-one to dump the real
shitty jobs onto. "As I said, there are no serious physical injuries, but
I'm afraid that he has no recall before waking up here."
"You mean he doesn't remember the crash?" Smith asked flippantly. "It
happens. Surely I shouldn't have to tell you that. After all you're the
"What I mean, Mr Smith," The doctor tried to control his temper and
annunciated each word carefully, "Is that he can remember nothing at all."
B. A. Baracus hated hospitals. He would much rather have been tinkering
around underneath the his van thansitting where he was. He didn't
trust doctors; which was the reason he'd decided not to go with the other
two. He would also have preferred to be talking to the Faceman rather
than watch him sleep. He took a couple of deep breaths and fiddled with
his gold while he tried to be patient.. Deciding that that wasn't
helping he reached out and laid his hand over Peck's to let him know that
he wasn't alone.
Michael DeLaine woke with a start to find himself staring into the
menacing counternance of a muscular black man dressed in cut off khakhis
and an unbelievable number of heavy gold chains. His hand was enclosed in
the guy's massive, bejewelled fist; one false move and he was sure that
his hand would be crushed. He backed away into the pillows and fumbled
for the the nurse call button to summon help. In his frightened stat he
knocked the handset to the floor.
"Oh shit," He muttered, then turned back to face his unwelcome visitor.
He breathed deeply trying to calm his nerves before managing to speak.
"Look, I don't have any money so you're wasting your time here! All
I've got is this watch. Just take it and leave me alone." His
apprehensioncrept into his voice. Before he drifted off to sleep he'd just finished
reading an article about hospital patients falling prey to thieves and
robbers. And now it was happening to him!
"there y'go Face," The black mountain of a man handed over a couple of
crumpled ten dollar bills. "I got more if that ain't enough. There
don't seem to be nothing wrong with your watch though." He said after
checking it over.
"I... I didn't say there was anything wrong with it ..."
"Then why'd you want me to take it man?" Growled Baracus . He wasn't
sure but he didn't think he liked the way this conversation was going.
Perhaps he suould have gone with Hannibal and and let the fool handle
"Huh?" The blond man in the bed was totally bewildered. This wasn't
going too well; he'd hoped the intruder would have been satisfied with the
watch and would have left to terrorise someone else; after all it did
say on the face that it was a Rolex.
The black man glowered but showed no sign of leaving. "What's up ,
"I... er... I thought that you..." He swallowed compulsively. "That
you... maybe... were going to rob me." He finished lamely, flashing a
nervous glance at the other man.
"Say what?!" Exploded Baracus. "What they done to your head man? You
making less sense than that fool Murdock!." He had had enough. Two crazy
fools in one unit was two too many.
"Take it easy, B.A." Advised Hannibal, walking into the room and
placing a restraining arm on his sergeant's broad shoulder. "He's lost his
memory. That's what the doctor wanted to tell us.!
"Lost his marbles more like." Stormed Baracus.
"B.A." The note of censure was quite evident in the colonel's voice.
"Just calm down. He hasn't singled you put; he doesn't recognise anything
The young man studied the mismatched trio in front of him and shook his
head in mute apology
"Forget it kid." Smith regretted the words as soon as they left his
mouth. "It's not your fault. Don't worry, we understand; well at least two
of us appear to. It'll all come back to you in time... we hope. The
important thing is that the Unit is back together again and we'll help you
through the rough spots."
The man in the bed was confused . He didn't understand what the old guy
was talking about. "The unit?"
"Yep." Interjected Murdock, nodding sagely and spoiling the illusion by
grinning maniacally. "As in U.S. Army and Special Forces.
I'm H.M Murdock, pilot extraordinaire, vanquisher of evil, pursuer of
truth, justice and the American Way. The ugly mudsucker over there is
B.A.Baracus, our mascot, mechanical genius and perpetual grump."
B.A. remained ominously silent but his expression spoke volumes; none
of it complementary.
"And this is the brilliant and imfamous Colonel John Smith, known to
one and all as Hannibal." Murdock continued, all the while hoping that
Face would stop him and tell him it had all been a joke. In the end it
was a martyred look from Hannibal that brought his discourse to a close.
"Anyway, we're the A Team. We were famous in 'Nam."
None of this rang any bells at all with the patient, who continued to
stare at the lanky pilot with incredulous blue eyes. At least he now
knew that he wasn't alone - even if these three looked more like they
belonged in a circus than in the U.S Army.
The silver haired colonel sat on the edge of the bed and looked at his
young friend. "He's right you know, but wecan talk more about that
later. Right now I think we should do something about getting you out of
"Templeton?! What the Hell kinda name is that?" He remembered that the
girl, Tina, had called him that on the phone, but he'd been so confused
by the brief conversation that he hadn't questioned it.
"Yours." replied Replied Hannibal, a warm smile speading across his
features. "Lieutenant Templeton Arthur Peck is your name, kid."
"I think I preferred Michael DeLaine..."