Title: Demons
Author: Reagan moniker11@bigfoot.com
Rating: Mostly PG-15, but the last part is R so we'll call the whole thing R
Disclaimer: I obviously don't own the A-Team or Face and Hannibal in particular. They belong
to Stephen J. Cannell, and I am not trying to infringe on his ownership. No money is being made
here, although the settings and plot are mine. Just ask if you wish to play.
Warnings: Adult language and childhood drama ahead. I don't want to tell all, but if prison or
teenage angst bothers you don't read.
Feedback: Makes my cyberworld spin and would make my day.



The apartment was completely dark as Hannibal stepped through the door. The darkness outside
didn't help illuminate the interior either. He had tried calling for the last hour, eventually giving
up and driving over to the young lieutenant's new abode. It was still relatively early and he
couldn't imagine Face asleep just yet.

"Face?" Hannibal called out softly, not wanting to startle the kid if he just hadn't been answering
the phone. When he received no response, he began to really worry. While there were plenty of
reasons why the kid wouldn't be here on a Tuesday night but, Face rarely went out without his
car. He had once cataloged the virtues of his corvette in picking up women and thus rarely left
home without it. Still there was no obvious reason to worry, but Hannibal couldn't help himself.
Face had been really quiet after his disastrous encounter with Decker. The kid hadn't given him
all the details but from his haggard appearance and cut up wrists from handcuffs that had been put
on too tight, something had happened. And Hannibal hated not knowing. So instead of brooding
over whatever had happened he decided to come over and well, basically interrogate Face until he
heard the whole story.

The older man moved cautiously throughout the condominium reluctant to turn on the lights
himself. Eventually he noticed the billowing of the curtain which hid the sliding glass door to the
balcony. Hannibal was perplexed, Face should have heard him come in and certainly heard his
name being called out. He pulled the curtain aside sticking his head out the door to see if he was
out there.

Bathed in moonlight Face was sitting at the table looking out at the ocean. He seemed oblivious
to everything around him except the cigarette burning in his hand and the glass of scotch clutched
in his other hand. Hannibal didn't say anything for a minute just watching as Face took a long
drag, then finish off the remains of his scotch and poor another mouthful from the bottle sitting on
the table. Watching a contemplative Face made the colonel uneasy. It wasn't something he was
used to and reaffirmed that something had definitely happened with Decker.

"Face?" Hannibal called out softly again from the doorway trying not to startle the young man.
There was still no response as he took another drag. Now Smith was truly concerned. He moved
out onto the balcony stopping less than two feet from the conman who had yet to acknowledge
his presence. Reaching out to touch his shoulder he called, "Hey kid, you alright?"

It was an instantaneous reaction, an instinct born of years spent being on guard. He had twisted
Hannibal's hand and pulled out his .357 before even realizing who had touched him.

"Hey Face it's me!" It took what seemed several beats for Face to focus on who was actually
before him. "Jesus kid! Don't break my wrist."

Hannibal had turned with him trying to decrease the pressure on his wrist while not moving too
suddenly because of the pistol aimed at his heart. Face finally blinked out of wherever he was to
find an astonished, not to mention worried and angry commander in front of him. It was a
complete surprise to find his hand gripping Hannibal's and his gun pointed at the silver haired
man.

Blowing out a shaky breath, "Geez, Hannibal don't you know better than to sneak up on me?
That's a good way to get yourself killed." Releasing his hold, Face bent to pick up his dropped
cigarette taking a deep drag in an almost vain attempt to calm his frazzled nerves.

"Christ kid! Didn't you hear me call your name or your phone ring for the past hour? Sneak up
on you? I coulda been yelling at the top of my lungs for all you woulda noticed. Where were
you?" Hannibal exclaimed gingerly rubbing his wrist and shoulder.

Face sat back down in his chair gesturing to the one next to him for Hannibal. Putting the gun
back in his holster he shrugged. "Just thinking...about stuff. Are you okay? I didn't hurt you did
I?" He asked contritely.

Waving away the inquiry. "Nah, I'm fine, you just caught me off guard. I wasn't expecting to
have to defend myself while visiting." Raising an eyebrow, in a clear I'm not buying your lame
excuse movement, "Stuff huh? Why don't you tell me what's really going on in your head?"

He waved his hand trying to brush off the question. "Nothing important." Jerking his head
toward the bottle, "You want a glass?"

Peering at the label of expensive scotch, Hannibal nodded his head in approval. "Yeah, thanks."

Templeton rose from the table heading inside to grab another glass, reemerging a minute later
with another tumbler and clean ashtray. Hannibal had a cigar lit before the lieutenant sat back
down. They were silent for a minute each absorbed in the beauty of the night and peacefulness of
the waves rolling onto the shore.

"So what brings you by?"

"You. You were pretty quiet after escaping from Decker. I want to know what happened. I
tried to call but you're not answering so I came over to find you so wrapped up in your thoughts
that you almost broke my arm when I touched your shoulder. What's going on kid? And don't
insult my intelligence by saying it's nothing. That's evidently not the case." The stormy blue eyes
bored into the young man, demanding answers.