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This page last viewed: 2017-12-06 and has been viewed 2218 times

Name: Secrets


By Akin


Rating: PG-13

Summary: Everyone has something to hide

Warnings: I don't think there is something special, except it can be understood as slash, and most likely will be

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"So this is it. A scam ended today. Already another this week. I am so

tired. Sometimes I think, Hannibal is pushing us too far, but sometimes I

have the feeling, he is the only one who knows what is the right thing to



I am so tired and afraid. Tired of life, afraid of the dull ache I feel

inside. I have to tell it to someone, even if it should be only my silent

confessor-the  journal.


I wonder, if someone knows, I have it. Hopefully not. Many people would be

surprised by the days of the "glorious" A-Team. Case after case, one like

the other. They are all the same and though so different, each taking

something. Part of heart, innocence. Until is nothing left, just a shell,

empty, handsome, shell.


You try to protect yourself, but the walls around your heart are not

working. Each case is getting under your skin, leaving bruises, not on the

body, on the core. Some are more blue than the others.


I am not afraid of the big ones, they leave scars, but you know about them,

you feel the pain from them.


The small are the worst, you think everything is OK....then you discover,

but it's already too late, it's already under your skin. Tears don't help,

they never do. So I hide the pain. From me, from them, I don't know.

I look into mirror at my on my face, my patented smile

everything-is-ok-so-please-don't-ask is there, working as usually.


Hannibal can sometimes pick even good cases, like this one, smooth, calm,

without bruises, violence.


And though, Hannibal can hurt me more than anyone else and doesn't realize

it. When he asked THE question for the first time, I was surprised,

humiliated. I had to do everything to behold the professional mask. I think,

I smiled. I don't remember, it's so fussy. No one noticed how much he hurt



Worse is, the question seems to be Hannibal's favorite, he doesn't realize.

I am stupid, how could he know, no one can. Pain is normal in the life.

Showing pain is showing a failure, a weak spot.  I know pain, I've met too

many bastards who were trained to cause the greatest pain and let the victim

live long enough to relish it. Is it possible that all the pain, they caused

together is not at all matching  the pain inflicted by one question?


Many would feel flattered if asked this small, innocent question after a

scam-what was her name? Right, her name this time? Her number in your

girls-book? Your number in her book? Like meat,  numbers. But we are not

numbers. I am not bait, I am not meat....I hear someone coming up the



I fast put the journal under the pillow. Just in time, Hannibal entered.


"Parents never told you about knocking?!" My voice is harsher than I

intended. I feel Hannibal's eyes boring into me, looking in my core, I fast

turn my head away to break the intense look of those incredibly blue eyes. I

know why he came, probably to tell me the dinner is ready. I take fast a

sweater and run down the stairs very fast. So fast that I awoke even BA's

attention. He growls and looks at me menacingly, though I can see the

question in his stare.  I look at him with that hey-man-I-don't-know-what-

you-want look and sit to the table.


Murdock is hovering around with pots and dishes oblivious to everything.


I sit here contemplating, I feel it's already quite a while when I realize

that Hannibal is not here. I think back, no he didn't come down from the

attic. He has to be still there. A strange pressure pushes in my stomach.

There is only one room up there, mine. I recall how I put the journal under

the pillow, I hope it's hidden good enough,  but nothing is hidden good

enough before Hannibal, when he wants to find it.  He is going now down the

stairs, I hear him clearly. I literally feel his eyes on my back, I try hard

not to turn to him.


Finally he is in mine sight, I see him with the corner of the eye, walking,

straight back, as usually, for others sign of aggression, I know, it's

normal. I try to study his face, but it's like mask. I can't read a single

thing, sometimes he is better in this than me, it's straightly unnerving. I

look at my plate.


BA joined us by the table too. Only Murdock jumps from time to time to get

this or that. He is jibber- jabbering about something.


I listen to him with one ear and something in my brain is reacting and I am

responding to him, though I have no idea what he is talking about. My

answers must be making sense, cos Murdock keeps talking and I feel my mouth

moving in response, but my eyes are fixed into Hannibal's unreadable eyes,

blue, cold.


Colonel's lips are one thin line, firmly together. A strange feeling of

dread is dwelling up in me. Something down inside me is cracking. Then I

realize the silence and another intense stare on me. I turn my head to meet

a pair of brown, very expecting, eyes of H.M. Murdock. BA is staring at me

too. Do I have something on my face? Panic grabs me. I feel their

eyes...everywhere on me, you have everything, what else do you want!!! I

stand up fast, the chair falls back. Hannibal is looking at me strangely. I

got to get away! Away from them! Their gazes!!! Away!!! I hear my stammered

apology that I don't feel good. I run up the stairs to my room, fast, fast,

away!!! I feel the pressure  of their gazes on my back, threatening to crack

my skull. Finally, I close the door, my eyes immediately goes to the pillow.


It's untouched, in the same position as I had left it. I feel silly. Was it

all my imagination? I wish it was, but I still feel the suffocating

pressure, I nearly can't breath. I am glad I am alone.


Knock, Knock.


I nearly jump put of my skin, I didn't hear the steps of someone coming. 

Maybe it's Murdock.


Not that much luck. I see the door open and Hannibal enters. His hands are

behind his straight back, face cold, unreadable, lips one tight line. I sit

on my bed staring at him. His hands move from behind his back, holding

something. I can clearly see what now, small black book. No doubts what is

it, my heart beats frantically, my mouth is dry, my stomach tightened in one

knot. I feel the color running out of my face, I gasp for air. How did he

dare!!! I glare at him, but it won't bring anything. He looks straight at me

with that now-I-want-to-hear-the-whole-truth-no-lies-kid look. WHOLE truth. 

I hate when he is doing this. But it's impossible to be angry at Hannibal,

when he doesn't want to argue. My anger turns into resignation. I look at

him, I still try to play the anger game, but I can't fool him. He is coming

closer to me, I am realizing each his step, one, two, three, I wish the room

would be hundred times longer, but no miracle is going to save me. I feel

the blood rushing into my head. I won't look into his eyes, I am afraid what

would be there. He is now standing right in front of me.


"I didn't know you have journal."


"It's something to keep private thoughts in." I stress the private beyond



"I am OK with privacy, unless it's not bad for the team. I am the leader,

it's my responsibility to take care."


He starts again with this cliches. Hannibal is a great soldier, a great

leader too, but astonishingly unable to talk about the feelings, always

hiding behind the old cliches we already know.


"So, sue me."


I feel his hand on my chin, he is lifting my head. I try to resist, but I

know the show is at the end. Hannibal won't let me off the hook. I realize

how weak I was acting the last weeks. I am dangerous for the team. He is the

leader, he has to deal with each possible threat, even from inside.


My eyes are looking into his. But there is not loathing.  Range of emotions

flickers there, different like the colors of the rainbow.


Wondering-questions-accusing and something I can't read, but no loathing.

"I didn't know I was hurting you so badly, kid." The voice is soft, not

leader mode, no accusations, only, endless...compassion? He won't let go of

my chin, I can't hide.


"It's Ok, it isn't really that bad. I am a little over reactive the last weeks,

that's all. It's OK."


I try to get away, but the hold is soft, yet firm, not allowing that,

Hannibal is gazing into my eyes, into my soul.


"No, it's not OK. We treated you bad, you have the right to be angry, or



"There is nearly nothing I could be angry with you." I know this is complete

truth, no matter how you treated me, how you hurt me, how bad I felt, I

can't be angry, not with you.




*Only that sometimes I feel like a piece of meat, flesh. Something what is

needed to function like a team, but in fact is nothing important. Would go

even without it, only not that smooth.*


I laugh bitterly and then I realize I said it aloud!!! I shut my mouth

tight, completely out of idea what to do or say awaiting burst of anger?

Laugh? I don't know. I close my eyes. I feel ashamed. I feel your hand

lightly brush against my cheek and again.  And again. You are caressing my

cheek! I open my eyes in shock. Your face is only inches from mine. I feel

your breath tickling on my face. I can't see anything else then blue, eyes are so serious, I realize you are speaking.


"'s OK to feel bad, each has bad and good days, but why didn't you

tell? I didn't know you feel the way you did. Like meat, another number in

the diary, useless..."


I can drown in that eyes forever, his hands has power to heal.


" are not useless, kid." You are caressing my hair now, looking in my



I wish it can stay so forever, then you move more closer and embrace me,

still caressing my hair. I melt gladly into you embrace. I am not able to

return it, though. My arms are hanging limply by my sides.


I listen to your heart, which is saying the sweetest words in my life


"'s OK...OK...OK...OK....OK..."






Secrets by Akin



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