Axiana: Thanks :) And here, one update to tie (some) loose ends together ;)

By the time Hannibal had left the apartment, tried to get into the van, gone back to get the keys from BA, started the van, stopped it again at three separate red lights and two intersections, found a place to park and strode into the prison, he was about ready to kill, if not Face, then any officer stupid enough to try and arrest him too.

"I'm Hannibal Smith, here for Templeton Peck. Where is he?"

The deputy got to his feet. "Follow me."

He led Hannibal through a door into a smaller room, this one containing the holding cells. Face was sitting on the cot in one of these, staring at nothing. He hadn't even looked up as the door opened.

"What's he been charged with?" Hannibal asked, not bothering to keep his voice down.

"Assault, breaking and entering and resisting arrest. We had to threaten to shoot him before he'd let us bring him in here. Guy was carrying on like a madman."

"Breaking and entering?"

Assault he could believe; if the lieutenant had fallen asleep and someone had woken him up...well, if Face could attack Hannibal under those circumstances, the colonel had no trouble believing he'd have gone for some unlucky passer by.

And Face was a soldier, just like the rest of them. People tended to forget it under the lieutenant's love of fine things, but he was still well-trained in hand-to-hand combat. Hannibal had seen to that himself. An ordinary civilian wouldn't have stood a chance.

But breaking and entering...I'm going to kill him. I'm going to take this guy's gun, point it at Face's head and blow out what's left of his brains!

"He was caught trying to break into Mr Markham's house."

Hannibal closed his eyes. "Oh dear god..."

"Yeah. Mr Markham said he didn't want to take it any further, but he said we were only to release him into your custody."

So Markham's got the local law enforcement on his payroll too. Although Hannibal had no time for crooked cops, he had to admit that in this case, they'd proven to be very useful.

"Let him out."

The deputy stepped forward and unlocked the cell door. "Are you going to—"

"I'll get him out your way, don't worry about that. And I'll see to it this doesn't happen again." Hannibal waited until the man was out of earshot, then stepped into the cell and stood over the lieutenant, arms folded.

"Face."

Face glanced up at him, then looked away again, no expression on his face. Infuriated at the lack of response, Hannibal seized the lieutenant's arm and hauled him upright.

"Get up!"

Face gripped the colonel's shirt and yanked him forward. He still didn't speak, but the message in his eyes was unmistakable: do that again and you're a dead man. The lieutenant had always been extremely good at communicating without words.

Hannibal stared back, unintimidated. "Stand down, lieutenant."

Face shifted his weight and raised his eyebrows. Hannibal, rightly interpreting this as Or what? didn't hesitate before bringing his knee up into Face's groin. He didn't put a lot of force into it – it was a warning, nothing more – but it did the trick; the lieutenant dropped his hands and backed off rapidly.

"Move it. We're going back, and I want every speck of dirt in that master bedroom cleaned up or there'll be hell to pay."

Face laughed, a low, bitter sound that sent a chill down Hannibal's spine and managed to convey the thought that the lieutenant was already paying hell with interest, and he didn't think that there was anything the colonel could do to make it worse.

And damn if I don't think he's right, Hannibal thought as he studied the younger man. Even in the POW camp when Face had burrowed into his shell, he'd still been rational. Hurt, furious and directing his silent hatred at BA and Hannibal (mostly Hannibal), but he'd known exactly what he was doing.

"Did I say something funny, lieutenant?"

Face stopped laughing at that, but the grin was still on his face as he stared at Hannibal. The colonel was far too experienced to let any trace of the unease he felt show on his face, but something about the lieutenant's silent grin was freaking him out. Big time.

"Get that smirk off your face, and move it!" was all he said.

Face obeyed both commands without a murmur, preceding Hannibal outside and into the van.

As soon as they were both in, the colonel slammed the doors and locked them.

"Start talking, lieutenant."

Face glanced at him, then looked away again. Hannibal hardened his voice.

"That was an order."

"I got nothing to say."

"We're not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on with you, Face."

The lieutenant shrugged. "Okay." Unfastening his seatbelt, he added, "I guess I better get comfortable then."

Like I didn't see that one coming, Hannibal thought grimly. People often didn't credit Face with being stubborn, since he was usually so laid back and easy going, but Hannibal knew better. Whenever he and Face seriously locked horns (which, thank god, wasn't often) it was a classic case of the irresistible force meeting the immovable object, and although the colonel had never lost a battle of wills between them, the lieutenant was more than capable of holding his own for a long, long time.

"Alright, kid, I'll rephrase that. If you don't tell me exactly why you tried to break into Markham's home, I'll force-feed you enough sleeping drugs to put you into a damn coma!"

Face's head snapped around to stare at Hannibal. He held the colonel's gaze for a long time, then smiled.

"No. No way. No, Hannibal, you're bluffing."

"Try me, lieutenant."

For a moment he thought Face might be stupid enough to do just that, then the lieutenant looked away again.

"Not here."

"Alright; where?"

"Back at the apartment."

Hannibal wasn't fooled. Face had no intention of confiding in him; instead he'd use the journey to think up another way to wriggle out of answering.

"Back at the apartment, huh?"

"Absolutely." Face smiled broadly. "Promise."

Again, Hannibal knew the lieutenant well enough not to be fooled, but he also knew him well enough to know there was no way he could wait Face out unless he planned to sit in the van for about a fortnight.

"Alright. Let's go."

Face was silent during the ten-minute drive back to the apartment, and once they were inside Hannibal was only just quick enough to stop him heading into the master bedroom.

"Where do you think you're going? You. Me. Explanation. Remember?"

"Ah, but I also remember you telling me to clean up the mess I made, Hannibal." Pasting an innocent expression on his face, the lieutenant spread his hands to the side. "I'm just following orders."

It says a lot for Hannibal's frustration that he had an urge to hit Face, and hard at that. Some of that must have been visible in his expression; Face drew back, suddenly not quite so sure of himself.

"You have fifteen minutes, lieutenant."

Something convinced Face not to argue or try to barter; instead he simply said, "Right," and ducked inside, closing the newly repaired door behind him.

Quarter of an hour later, Hannibal had to admit he was impressed. Most of the mess had been cleared, the curtains repaired as best they could and the bed made with military precision. There was nothing Face could do about the busted closet door, but he had at least stashed it inside the closet and out of sight. The work seemed to have calmed him down, although there was still an unsettled look in his eye.

As he started to close the door again, Hannibal put his hand on it.

"No you don't."

"What? Don't what?"

"After your little redecorating stunt, lieutenant, the door stays open, and the window—" Hannibal crossed the room, turned the key and pocketed it— "stays locked."

Face snorted. "What now, Hannibal? You worried I'm gonna throw myself out it? Huh?"

Hannibal met the younger man's gaze evenly. "Should I be?"

"No!"

"Don't play the victim with me, kid. You've been acting crazier than Murdock these past couple of days, especially in that cell! I don't know what's wrong with you, but—"

Face whirled, eyes blazing. "The only thing that's wrong, Hannibal, is you breathing down my neck every second! I mean, all this constant surveillance, don't you think it's enough to drive anybody crazy?"

There was a hot, angry silence.

"It. Was. A. Song. It was just a song, it was a song I didn't like and so I asked you nicely if you would mind turning it off. If I'd known you were going to act like this, I'd have kept my mouth shut and listened to the damn thing!" Face pulled open the door only to have Hannibal slam it shut again.

"No, Face, you didn't ask me nicely if I'd mind turning it off, you screamed at me to do it and when I wasn't fast enough, you did your best to trash the radio completely! That's not like you. We get locked up and you start screaming your lungs out. That's really not like you. And on top of all that, you start having nightmares that have now gotten so bad you're afraid to go to sleep!"

"That's crazy. I only had one."

Hannibal met his gaze without flinching. "You fell asleep in the van."

"I did not! I just...I dozed off."

"Whatever you did, kid, you had another one of those dreams, only this time you tried to strangle me at the end of it—"

"I said I was sorry!"

"—and you forced yourself to stay awake for the next twenty four hours until I had to drug you into sleep, and then you screamed the place down. And then you went and got yourself arrested!"

Face kicked open the door leading into the lounge and stalked through it, Hannibal right behind him, still talking.

"Now you're refusing to go to sleep and you barricaded the bedroom door!"

Face swept his arm across the breakfast bar, sending plates and glasses crashing to the floor, fragments pinwheeling through the air.

"Well, maybe I just wanted some insurance against the son of a bitch who knocked me out!"

There was a long, long silence, then Hannibal said quietly, "I'll forget you said that, kid."

Face at least had the grace to look ashamed of himself. "You shouldn't have drugged me, Hannibal."

"If you'd done what I said and got some rest, I wouldn't have had to."

"Did it never occur to you that maybe I had some kind of reason for saying no?"

"You're frightened of the nightmares, kid—"

"I am not!"

Hannibal regarded the tormented younger man for a few seconds before saying, "Well, I find it pretty hard to understand why else you'd be so scared to go to sleep. Then again, Face, I'm finding it pretty hard to understand anything about you these days."

Silence. Hannibal sighed.

"Kid, I'm sorry I had to do what I did, but I couldn't sit back and watch you burn yourself out. You know, you're really starting to scare me."

Face glanced up at the colonel. "I can't see why."

"Why? Why is because you've been screaming yourself awake these past few days. Why is because when I woke you in the van, you tried to beat me to a pulp. Why is because you freaked out when Markham locked us in that cellar. Why is because you've now moved on from screaming yourself awake to screaming yourself awake and throwing up what sounds like everything you've ever eaten. Have I missed anything out?"

The lieutenant stared at him in silence for a minute, then turned and strode towards the door.

"I don't have to listen to this."

"Yes you do!" Hannibal overtook Face to stand between him and the door. "I've been damn easy on you up until now, kid, and so far I've been getting nothing in return! Now whatever's wrong with you, it's got you breaking and entering for no reason!"

"Outta my way, Hannibal." There was a dangerous tone in Face's voice, but the colonel didn't move.

"Oh no. No, you're not going anywhere, lieutenant, not until we sort this out!" Meeting Face's angry expression without flinching, Hannibal continued in a quieter tone. "Face, whatever's going on, you can't deal with it alone. C'mon kid. Talk to me. Please."

"There's nothing to talk about. Just leave me alone!"

He turned away, but Hannibal lunged and caught hold of his shirt, spinning him back around.

"You know, kid, that's all I've been hearing from you lately. Butt out, leave me alone, I can handle this. Well, I tried that and look where it's got us!"

"I'd hardly call drugging me butting out, Hannibal!" Face tried to break free, but Hannibal's grip was too strong.

"I said I wouldn't try and force myself into your confidence, Face. That doesn't mean I'm not going to look out for you, since you don't seem inclined to look out for yourself."

Face yanked back. "Well, it damn well should!"

"Face, you are going to be no good to me or the Team until we get this sorted out."

Face let out a short, bitter laugh. "Right, Hannibal! All for the Team, huh? And there was me starting to believe you were worried about me because you cared."

He started to push past, but Hannibal gripped his arm tightly above the elbow.

"Don't try and twist this around on me, lieutenant. You know damn well I care about you, even if you're too scared to admit it!"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Hannibal knew he'd blown it. There was no way Face would risk opening up to him now.

In that case, I might as well stop dancing around and ask him outright.

"Face, what happened to you in the dark room?"

The response was electric: Face spun so fast he almost fell.

"What makes you think something happened to me?"

"Oh, don't play this game now, kid! I know something happened to you; I want to know what."

"Nothing. Happened." Face fumbled behind him, pulling open a drawer and feeling inside until he found a knife and yanked it out. Not a large one, but a sharp one, and more than capable of doing serious damage.

There was a long, long silence.

"Are you going to use that, Face?" Hannibal kept his voice very quiet, body language as non-threatening as possible. Not because he was afraid – while Face wasn't an opponent to take lightly, Hannibal was confident he would win any real fight between them – but because he didn't want it to come to that.

"Leave...me...alone." Face's voice was just as quiet, but there was a tremor in it that Hannibal's lacked. He wasn't ordering the colonel anymore; he was pleading with him. "Please. I got this, Hannibal. I can handle it."

Hannibal shook his head slowly as he moved towards him. Face tensed, but didn't resist as the colonel took the knife out of his hand and placed it on the side.

"Face, none of us believe that anymore, least of all me. Whatever it is, it's turned you into a nervous wreck. You're jumping at shadows, you're picking fights with complete strangers—"

"I didn't pick a fight with him, Hannibal, I dozed off in the park and he shook me awake. End of discussion."

It was as though they'd never left the POW camp. Hannibal couldn't remember how many times he'd had similar encounters with Face, the young lieutenant throwing up walls against every topic of conversation Hannibal broached...at least, every topic that had to do with Face himself.

Except he was a lot younger then. Even so, it had taken every iota of willpower and patience Hannibal could summon – and then some – before he'd been able to convince Face to even consider trusting him.

Unlike then, however, this time Hannibal had an odd feeling that Face wanted to confide in him, he was just...scared. Scared of how Hannibal would react to whatever it was he had to say.

Which means it's a lot worse than any of the experiences or incidents he told me about while we were in the POW camp.

Hannibal felt a slight twitch down his spine. He hoped he was wrong. He hoped he was wrong because if he wasn't, then whatever happened to Face had been particularly grim.

Watching the lieutenant, Hannibal frowned, trying to work it out. He'd assumed that Face was acting the way he was because of something that had been done to him. Now, though, he was beginning to wonder. The younger man's unwillingness to talk was extreme even by normal Face standards.

Perhaps the lieutenant was afraid of Hannibal's reaction not to something that had been done to him, but something he himself had done.

Was it really just fear that was making him act this way, or a guilty conscience?

"Face, you're still a member of the Team. Nothing you say is gonna change that."

Face glanced at him, then sat down on the couch and buried his face in his hands, so tense he was quivering all over.

Hannibal hesitated, then settled next to him and put a hand on Face's shoulder. He did so rather warily; he wasn't sure how the lieutenant would react, and didn't much fancy getting his head slammed into the ground a second time.

"Kid..."

Face's hand shot up and seized Hannibal's wrist so fast it was a blur. It wasn't an attack, the colonel could see that, even though the younger man's grip was so tight Hannibal could feel the bones grinding together. The lieutenant was clinging to him like a drowning man grabbing a lifesaver, and it scared Hannibal a little. Face had only sought comfort from him like this once before, when they'd been told that Murdock had had a nervous breakdown and was on the next flight back to America. Losing his closest friend – even to a VA hospital – had shattered Face's world, and Hannibal still had a vivid memory of the young lieutenant crying himself to sleep practically in his arms.

Almost there. Just give it another few seconds...c'mon kid, I know you can do it.

Face took a long, deep breath, then another.

"Hannibal, I..." He broke off.

"It's okay, kid. Take all the time you—" Hannibal started to say need, but was cut off as the door to the lounge opened.

It really was amazing how fast Face could regain his composure, Hannibal thought bitterly. Before the door was halfway open the lieutenant had leapt out from under his hand as though it were red-hot, and by the time BA walked in, Face was on the other side of the room, sitting on the couch and pretending to read the newspaper.

"Hey Hannibal! You seen—"

"Not now, sergeant!"

He could have saved his breath, though, since the moment was gone.

Yeah. Subject closed, doors slammed, locked and barricaded. Thanks a lot, BA.

Granted the sergeant hadn't realised what he was doing, nor had Hannibal thought to tell him or Murdock not to disturb them, and he was an extremely valuable member of the Team, and an outstanding driver and mechanic...but still, even taking all those things into account, Hannibal could quite cheerfully have strangled him.

"Face—"

"Hm? What, Hannibal?" The lieutenant looked up from his paper, fixing Hannibal with an expression of bright, keen attention.

God. Damn. It. Knowing Face as he did, Hannibal knew the kid would be ten times as hard to get through to now. Not because he doubted the colonel's motives but because he'd almost slipped up once and he wasn't about to risk doing so a second time.

Maybe if I can get him on his own again...not that Face wouldn't be expecting that, Hannibal knew. The colonel was willing to bet his entire bank balance that Face would suddenly develop a hankering for Murdock or BA's company, and there was no way Hannibal would be able to dismiss either of them without putting Face straight onto red alert.

Leaning back, Hannibal sighed. If this went on much longer, it was a toss-up as to who would snap under the pressure first; him or Face.

The insistent ringing of the phone dragged Hannibal out of a sound sleep. Mumbling under his breath, the colonel got to his feet and stumbled through into the lounge, reaching it a split second after Murdock.

"Hello ba-by! You reached the Employment Agency for ghoulies, ghosties, long-leggity beasties a-a-and things that go bump in the night. Please leave your message after the dial tone an' we'll get right on back to ya with all your hauntin' needs! Alternatively, if you are a ghoulie, ghostie, long-leggity beastie or thing that goes bump in the night an' you are seekin' employment, please send your resume along to our head office and we'll get right back to you too! Buh-bye now!"

Hannibal managed to field the receiver before Murdock could put it down and brought it up to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Colonel Smith?"

The voice was vaguely familiar. It also lacked the shell-shocked quality possessed by most people unlucky enough to have had a close encounter of the Murdock kind, and Hannibal tensed.

"Who is this?"

"Jack Markham. I am sorry to disturb you at this late hour—" and that at least had the ring of truth— "but I feel it only fair to tell you that tomorrow morning, at seven am precisely, I will be telephoning Colonel Decker and letting him know where you are."

Hannibal blinked, staring at the receiver. "Well...why are you telling me that now?"

A genteel sigh. "Because, colonel, I believe you're innocent. I believed it even when I first heard about your alleged crime in Vietnam, and whatever my failings, I am a fair man, and I don't want to see you arrested for something you didn't do." A slight edge crept into his voice. "But I can't sit by while your lieutenant keeps trying to break into my home."

"What?"

"I do understand, of course, that he is looking for the missing girl, and as such I can only commend his intentions. However, I cannot allow these intrusions to continue. I had your lieutenant escorted from the grounds and I imagine he is on his way back to you as we speak. Should he try again, I might be forced to make that call a little earlier. I am sure you will agree that I have been exceedingly tolerant so far, but my patience has its limits."

Damn it all, the man was right, Hannibal thought savagely. And damn Face as well!

"Alright. Yeah. I understand. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Thank you, colonel. Good night."

Before Hannibal had time to answer, Markham had hung up. Even on the other side of town, the colonel could see him doing so gently, politely.

Hannibal, on the other hand, was neither gentle nor polite; he crashed the receiver down and swore viciously, then turned to Murdock and a still groggy BA.

"Murdock, take BA outside, will you? I want to talk to Face alone, when he gets back from Markham."

"This crazy fool ain't takin' me nowhere, Hannibal!"

"BA, I don't care who takes who, just both of you get out!" Glancing at the phone, Hannibal added, "And stay away from Markham's place."

"Well...colonel, how long we gotta stay out?" Murdock asked, a plaintive note in his voice.

Hannibal looked at him, then up at the light. "Stay outta sight but keep an eye on this window. I'll turn the light out when I'm done."

Without waiting to see if his order was obeyed, he strode over to the window in question and looked out, scanning the lit streets for some sign of Face.

Nothing. Hannibal had no idea whether Markham was having one of his people drive Face back or if he'd simply kicked the lieutenant out and left him to walk home. If it was the latter, considering Markham's house was five miles away, Hannibal thought rather sourly that he was in for quite a wait.

A few minutes later, he heard the front door open and shut as BA and Murdock left. Moving back from the window, rightly suspecting that Face would be far less likely to come in if he saw Hannibal waiting for him.

At least forty minutes had gone by before Hannibal heard the door open and close again. He waited until he heard the door to the master bedroom open before saying, "Lieutenant."

There was a sudden silence, followed by the tiniest of sounds as Face attempted to sneak into the relative sanctuary of the bedroom.

"Lieutenant." This time Hannibal made it an order. Seconds later a reluctant Face appeared, hovering in the doorway.

"Uh...hi Hannibal."

The colonel got to his feet. "You have got some serious explaining to do, Face."

Face glanced around. "Where're Murdock and BA?"

"Not here, and don't try and change the subject. What the hell did you think you were doing?"

"I don't have time for this, Hannibal." The lieutenant strode into the kitchen, pouring out a glass of orange juice and downing it in one long swallow, then refilled it. "I'm tired. I'm going to get some shuteye."

"You stop right where you are, lieutenant." Hannibal gripped Face's arm above the elbow, arresting the younger man's movement. "You and I are going to have a little chat."

Half a pint of orange juice hit him squarely in the eyes, blinding him, and Hannibal's grip loosened for a second.

It was enough for Face, who followed up the orange juice with a right hook and wrenched free, leaving Hannibal with a handful of torn fabric.

It wasn't enough, however, to stop the colonel from seizing his wrist as it passed him and yanking back hard, pulling Face around with such force he almost dislocated the lieutenant's shoulder.

Blinking juice out of his stinging eyes, blood seeping out of a split lip, Hannibal somehow managed to hold onto Face and glare at him at the same time.

"What the hell is going on with you?" He'd never seen Face like this before. Even when they'd had their first – and only – real fight in the POW camp (or as much of a fight as two men can have with one nursing a broken arm and half a dozen cracked ribs) there had been a little core of sanity in the lieutenant's mind. He'd been wild, furious, terrified, but he'd always retained enough of himself to know what he was doing. This Face was completely out of control.

"There is. Nothing. Going. On." The words were forced through bared and gritted teeth.

"You can lie to Murdock and BA if you want to, Face, but don't you dare lie to me. I try and help and you tell me to butt out. I butt out and you accuse me of not caring." As Face pulled free and made to go past, Hannibal grabbed him again and ran him into the wall. "Well, I'm telling you now, I don't care what your problem is, lieutenant! You are not leaving this apartment – you are not leaving this room – until I get some answers! Now talk to me, goddamnit! You just blew the whole mission! Thanks to you, we got Decker coming down on us tomorrow and we have to get outta here."

"And what about the girl, Hannibal? What about her? Are you just gonna give up?"

"If you hadn't gone in half-cocked, we'd still have a chance of saving her! Now Markham's calling Decker—"

"Which should send you right onto cloud nine."

"—and you have about two seconds to tell me why the hell you went back into Markham's house! Twice!"

"Because of what you said." Face was glaring at him, hurt, furious, and at any other time Hannibal would have dropped the subject.

"What I said? Face, I'm pretty sure that what I said ran along the lines of do not go back into Markham's house under any circumstances!" Moving closer, Hannibal added, "So would you mind explaining to me how I could say that, but you heard hey Face, go break into this guy's home and snoop around!"

"You were the one who said he'd probably taken this Chrissy Allen girl into some sick kind of prostitution ring! Snatch her, hide her somewhere and then rent her out to whoever wants a piece of the action!"

Hannibal gripped his arm. "You listen to me, kid. I know how you're feeling—"

Face's laugh bordered on the hysterical. "No you don't, Hannibal! You've no idea how I'm feeling!"

"If this girl is in that kind of situation, lieutenant, then I agree we need to get her out of it as soon as possible, but your little Charge of the Light Brigade number made that a lot harder! Now – and I never thought I'd say this – but wherever that kid may be, Markham's calling Decker at seven am tomorrow and giving him our address, and so we're gonna have to leave her for a day or so."

"I can't!" Face started towards the door but Hannibal gripped what was left of the lieutenant's collar and spun the younger man around to face him.

"Give me one good reason why not, lieutenant!"

Teeth bared, Face snarled at him, "Because it happened to me."

Hannibal's hand dropped to his side. There was no way he could have stopped it, although Face didn't seem inclined to make another break for freedom.

"What?" It was said softly, disbelievingly.

"I'm sorry, did I stutter? Do you want me to go over it again?"

Hannibal was quiet for a few seconds, then, when Face didn't seem inclined to say anything else, said, "Is that...when you talked about the dark room, is that..." His voice tailed off. There was no tactful way to ask the question and he couldn't bring himself to ask bluntly.

"Oh, what, Hannibal?" Face gave him a brittle smile. "Where I was raped? Is that what you wanted to say?"

Hannibal stared at him, but for once he couldn't find any words to answer.

"Yeah." Face answered his own question, biting the word off at the end. "All the time I was there, the only thing I could hear was that Brenda Lee song. Someone was playing it over and over and over again...just the same damn song. They used it to mask the cries."

"You..." Hannibal stared at him, the pieces tumbling into place. "That's why you went nuts when you heard it on the radio."

It seemed crazy to deny it now he'd come this far. Face swallowed hard. "Yeah. That's why. I hadn't heard it since..." He broke off. "I was...it triggered..."

"Face..." Hannibal touched the lieutenant's shoulder, but Face whipped round and slammed his hand away with all the strength he could muster.

"Get away from me!"

"Alright. Alright." Hands raised, Hannibal took a few paces back. "We'll do it your way, Face. Just take it easy. I'm not gonna hurt you."

It seemed a strange thing to say, since he'd never cold-bloodedly hurt Face before or given him any reason to expect that he would, yet somehow he thought it was what the lieutenant needed to hear.

"Face, why didn't you mention it before?"

The lieutenant let out a noise that was halfway between a laugh and a sob. "Sure Hannibal! I mean, how would you have liked me to start? Maybe bring it up over a Thanksgiving dinner? Or I know, why not wait 'til Christmas? Let you guys get into the turkey and opening gifts, then just say, oh, by the way, guys, when I was five, some sadist grabbed me and dragged me into the middle of some sick porn ring? You know, just thought you should know?"

"All these years and you never said a word." At the same time, Hannibal wondered why he was so surprised about this. Like Face said, it was hardly the kind of anecdote you'd share at dinner.

"I didn't know! I'd forgotten, blacked it out or something! When I heard that song, it just...well, let's just say I started to remember, okay Hannibal?"

The colonel stared at him, mouth dry.

"Was this after your mom...uh..."

"What, Hannibal? After I came home from school and found she'd driven away in that dirty little camper van we both lived in?"

"Well...yeah." Having opened this can of worms, Hannibal found he had no idea how to close it again and so he realised he might as well ride it out.

"Yeah. It was." Face ran a trembling hand over his face, turning away as though Hannibal had suddenly become too bright to look at.

"Kid—"

"Hannibal, uh, look, I'm...I'm really tired, I just wanna get some sleep, okay?" It was said fast enough for Hannibal to recognise it for the excuse it was.

"In a minute, kid." Hannibal spoke quietly, letting Face know that although he wasn't in trouble, this little interview wasn't over just yet.

The lieutenant closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. "Hannibal—"

"Face, I know it's hard—" although Hannibal was only half convinced that it was harder for Face to talk about this than it was for him to hear about it— "but you gotta see it through. C'mon kid. Finish what you started."

Face's eyes snapped open again and he stared at the colonel, disbelief warring with accusation in his gaze.

"What I started?" He gave a short, bitter laugh and, as Hannibal started towards him, drew back, raising one hand. "No, Hannibal. I didn't start this; you did. You never know when to leave well enough alone, do you?"

"Face—"

"No!" The lieutenant lunged and shoved Hannibal with enough force to send him sprawling. "You got your goddamn answers! You got what you wanted, now back off and leave me alone!"

He spun on his heel and half stumbled, half ran into the master bedroom, slamming the door behind him with enough force to rattle the windows, and this time the colonel let him go.

Hannibal lay on his back, his glowing cigar the only source of light in the dark room. He didn't usually smoke in bed, but this was different. He needed to think, and that was damn hard at the minute considering he was still reeling from Face's revelation.

He didn't remember. He didn't remember any of it until that damn song came on the radio, and then it just flooded back.

What must it be like, to go from no memory of something one second to a clear recollection of that same thing the next?

If I'd suddenly remembered something like that...after all those years...it would be like going through the whole thing again.

Poor kid. No wonder he freaked out.

Hannibal was no longer surprised that Face had snapped; rather, he was astonished that the lieutenant had managed to hold it together as well as he had for as long as he had.

So what do I do now? He couldn't tell the others – that was something Face would never forgive, even if Hannibal had been inclined to gossip – but he was less sure that he could continue to act as though nothing had happened.

He kept turning things over and over in his mind, wondering what to do, how to proceed...above all, why it had taken him this long to figure it out even as his more rational side insisted that no, that wasn't fair, there was no way he could have known.

Dumped by his mother, kidnapped into some sick operation and then somehow got from there to the orphanage.

And that had been no picnic either. Face had opened up to Hannibal a little about the orphanage in the POW camp, and although it was nothing like some of the horror stories you read in the papers, it had been a mostly cold, bleak place to grow up in.

Hannibal sucked on his cigar, which was now so small the end was starting to burn his fingers, thinking about things; most of all, about Face.

No wonder he doesn't like guys touching him. Hannibal had never really thought much about that, since he'd known plenty of other men who felt the same way.

That cigar was really getting too hot to hold now...Hannibal ground out the half-inch butt that was left and folded his hands over his stomach, trying for what felt like the hundredth time to work out the best way to proceed.

While he was still puzzling it out, he fell asleep, and didn't wake up until his door was kicked open.

Mind full of MPs and Decker, Hannibal snatched up his gun and came within an inch of blowing Murdock's head off.

"Colonel! Face is gone!"

Hannibal stared at him, mouth suddenly dry. "What?"

"Packed all his things and high-tailed it away in the night. He even took his suits."

The colonel was on his feet in an instant, no longer even remotely tired.

"What? That can't be right."

"See for yourself."

Still wondering – hoping – that this was no more than a terrible dream, Hannibal followed Murdock through into the master bedroom.

It was empty. Really empty. Murdock was right; Face had stripped it bare. The window was wide open, a pick sticking out of the lock, and Hannibal swore should've known that simply locking the window wouldn't be enough to stop the lieutenant. The apartment was on the first floor, but that was no problem to someone like Face.

He threw his stuff out the window, climbed down after it and then...what? The colonel glanced up and down the street, stopping when his gaze fell on a pay phone.

That's it. He called a cab or rented a car or something. Out of the two, Hannibal thought a cab was more likely; a rented car was too easy to trace. Whichever it was, the fact remained that Face could literally be anywhere.

"This was stuck to the bedroom door." Murdock held out a note and Hannibal took it, staring at the seven words printed there in Face's neat handwriting.

Do you really need to ask why?

For the very first time in his life, Hannibal was at a complete loss. He had no idea how to proceed, no clue what to say or do.

Murdock, on the other hand, was not so perplexed. "Colonel, what'd you say to him last night?"

Hannibal shook his head slowly. "I dunno."

Face hadn't snapped like this in the POW camp in 'Nam, where he and Hannibal had first met. The lieutenant had been bruised goods, as Murdock had put it, scared and defensive, constantly waiting for people – including Hannibal – to screw him over and then kick him while he was down, just like everyone else in his life. It had taken months, but Hannibal had finally managed to persuade Face to (occasionally) open up to him.

So how was this any different? Granted it was a darker secret than any of the others Face had confided to him, but still...

"You know he's had something on his mind." That was the understatement of the century, in Hannibal's opinion, but he kept going regardless. "I just tried to persuade him to talk to me."

"That true, colonel?" Murdock stared hard at Hannibal's busted nose and swollen lip. "You really try and persuade him? Or did you just order him to tell you and beat the answer outta him when he said no?"

"What?" Hannibal stared at the pilot, genuinely appalled. "Murdock, you know I'm not that kinda guy!"

"All I know, colonel, is that somethin' went down between you an' the Faceman, and whatever you said or did was so bad it made him feel that he couldn't stand to be around us anymore! All I know is that you were probably the one person he thought he could trust to give him a little sympathy, and instead all you done is drugged him, yelled at him and kicked the crap outta him!"

Shock started to give way to anger and Hannibal returned the pilot's glare with his own.

"I am not going to be made the bad guy in this, Murdock! I can't sympathise with the problems of someone who refuses to tell me what they are! Now maybe I pushed a little too hard—"

Murdock snorted. "Uh huh. Yeah, that's for damn sure."

"—but I did not try and force the answers out of him! I just..." Hannibal's voice tailed off as his treacherous memory threw up an image of himself grabbing Face and slinging him against the wall.

"I don't care what your problem is, lieutenant! You are not leaving this apartment until I get some answers! Now talk to me, goddamnit!"

He hadn't rammed the lieutenant into the wall to hurt him; he'd done it because it seemed the most effective way to stop him escaping again, but he wasn't sure that Face – upset as he'd been – would have seen it that way.

Murdock stood there, watching Hannibal's face grow steadily whiter.

"Oh my god." It was a bare whisper.

"What'd you do, colonel?" There was no trace of eccentricity in Murdock's voice now; it was hard, unforgiving.

"Nothing. It doesn't matter."

Murdock darted past Hannibal and stood in the doorway, arms folded. "I see. So it's okay for you to be ashamed, just nobody else."

Hannibal shook his head. "We don't have time for this, Murdock. Decker's going to be here any minute, we have to get going!"

Murdock shook his head. "No. No, you and BA gotta get goin'. I'm gonna stay here. Maybe Face'll come back in a day or so. An' face it, Hannibal, I'm the only one who don't gotta duck outta sight every time he hears a siren—"

"No, you just got every psychiatrist from the VA on your tail."

Murdock gave Hannibal a cold look. "Point one, they're only gonna find me if I'm alone an' do somethin' to stand out in a crowd. Point two, if they do somehow get holda me, it's gonna be a lot easier for me to bust outta the VA than it is for you to bust outta a military fort. And point three, I don't think the Faceman'd wanna be found by you anyway."

Turning, he strode out, slamming the door behind him.

A sudden burst of noise jerked Hannibal's attention around to the radio alarm clock on the nightstand. Face must have set it before he left, which meant it had been an impulsive move rather than a planned one. That was a hopeful sign; chances were good the lieutenant would be back once he'd calmed down. Maybe having Murdock wait around here for a few days wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Robin Gibb's cheerful voice warbled over the radio as Hannibal stood there, thinking.

August, October

Mid-April, November, May

Beckoning hands made you fly

I cry, it's curtains today

He turned it off savagely.

Okay, I had planned for this to be a lot longer, but I figured Hannibal was only likely to put up with Face's obstinacy for so long ;) So that's the end of this story, but not the story arc.

Next up: Since You Been Gone sees the question of Face's past (and disappearance) answered in full, along with the return of everyone's favourite colonel (and no, I don't just mean Hannibal ;))

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed this and I hope to see you for the sequel!