Date: Sep 2001 Yeah, I know it's not a Kenny Rogers song; but it fits. Poor Face. Poor Hannibal. Maybe poor BA - but I leave that to your imagination. Thanks to the One-Legged Chicken and the Blue Kitty (AKA Val and Fingers) for their fine beta-reading, and to Jenlmr for her insight into the characters as they exist in this story. I'll be off-line until Columbus Day/Canadian Thanksgiving (8 October for the rest of you), but I look forward to your feedback when I return. Title: Torn Between Two Lovers by: rita (mommacita1@juno.com) Warnings - bittersweet angst Disclaimer - I don't own the Team or make any profit from them. I just like to play with them. Summary - Hannibal pays a visit or two. Archive - Yes, just tell me where, please. Torn Between Two Lovers Feeling like a fool Loving both of you Is breaking all the rules. *** Hannibal pulled up in front of the cabin and immediately noticed BA's van. He sighed. He should have called first, he realized, but in typical Hannibal Smith fashion he had wanted to come unannounced and catch them off-guard. Them. Yes, he admitted to himself. Despite Face's protestations that BA and he had not set up housekeeping, Hannibal had expected to find them together. 'Why are you doing this to yourself?' he asked, but got no answer. 'Well, I'm here,' he thought. 'Might as well go through with it.' He got out of the car and followed the stone path to the front door. 'Pretty place, more of a cottage than a cabin,' he noted, automatically scoping it out. Perennials and flowering ground cover lined the drive and walkway, chosen so the place would look cared for without having to mow a lawn or trim shrubbery. It also looked, he searched for the word, "naturalized". Yeah, that was it. It blended in with the surrounding woods and hills. That made him stop and look around. Although the house was nestled in the foothills north of LA, it was on as flat a piece of property as possible. That would have been BA's doing, he assumed. Both of them smoothing Face's way, making it as easy as they could for him to be independent. Something he should have done. He continued to the porch. A wide shallow ramp began a good fifteen feet from the porch proper, with steps accompanying it, so a person in a walker or wheel chair could be accommodated but not separated from a person walking unaided. 'Nice touch, BA,' he thought as he mounted the steps. His footfalls still echoed on the artificial wood that made up the porch and its approaches, when he looked up to find BA, arms crossed over his gold-covered chest, blocking the door. "He ain't here." "Good afternoon to you, too, BA," Hannibal said as pleasantly as he could. "Was," BA replied curtly. He didn't move. "You should have called." "Yeah, I thought of that when I pulled in," Hannibal agreed, patting his jacket for cigars and finding none. "There's cigars inside on the kitchen counter," BA allowed, stepping aside to let Hannibal enter. Hannibal shook his head. "Nah, that's okay. Just tell him I stopped by. I'll call before I come out next time." BA shrugged. "Suit yourself." He watched until Hannibal had started his car, then shut the door. *** BA's van wasn't in the drive this time, Hannibal noted with relief. Face must have sent him away, or they agreed to it together after he had called. In any case, Hannibal was glad to see Face alone in his new home. Face met him halfway up the walkway, rolling quickly down the ramp with practiced ease. "Hannibal! I'm glad you decided to come out!" "Me, too, kid, me, too," he said and bent to give him a hug. "You look ... at home," he chuckled. Face grinned up at him. "Yeah, I guess I do at that. Let me show you around out here first." He continued down the walkway and Hannibal followed. "BA and Murdock did most of it, of course. No maintenance synthetics for the exterior - big help. And low maintenance landscaping. I think Murdock went a little overboard on the flowers, but that's okay. There's a field over there," he waved vaguely off towards a depression in the horizon, "that looks just like this." "Murdock took you to prove he hadn't overdone it?" Hannibal asked. "No, actually it was the other way around. I was tooling around in my three-wheeler - you've gotta see it, Hannibal, it's great - and I came into it all of a sudden. Just glorious! If I was still dating, I'd bring someone there for a romantic picnic." "But that would be a little awkward with BA in the house," Hannibal commented dryly, and immediately regretted it. Face looked up at him with an expression of complete bewilderment. "BA in the house?" he echoed. "No, Hannibal. I told you. I live here alone." "I dropped by unannounced a couple of weeks ago and BA was here, Face," Hannibal replied, annoyed that Face would try to con him. "You can stop pretending." "I'm not pretending. BA has a key. So does Murdock. You can have one, too, if you want. I didn't say BA was never here, or that we don't sleep together - because we do, but he doesn't live here. He's not even here all that often." Face laughed. "I prefer to go into the city to see him because whenever he comes out here he starts fixing something and doesn't spend any time with me." He looked Hannibal in the eyes. "Seriously, Hannibal. I live here on my own by my choice." Hannibal dropped his eyes first, but Face wasn't sure he was convinced. "Why don't we go in?" he suggested, changing the subject. Let's go around by the back; I'll show you the vegetable garden." Buttons poked his head out the cat door as they came around the house. He spotted Hannibal, hissed, and disappeared. Face shook his head. "I don't understand, Hannibal. He just doesn't seem able to get used to you." "It's okay, Face. Little kids and small animals - I've never really been comfortable around 'em. Always afraid I'll be too rough or something." He shrugged. They entered the cottage through the kitchen door, wider than the standard door as was every door in the place. Hannibal noticed there were no raised thresholds and all the floors were hardwood. The kitchen counters were bi-level with cantilevered food preparation areas. Face followed Hannibal's eyes as he assessed the kitchen. "BA's doing, of course. All of the cabinets have pullout shelves with turntables, too." He opened a lower cabinet and demonstrated, bending over to show Hannibal how he could pull items out of the cabinet. He winced as he straightened, forcing his back upright with his hands so tight on the wheelchair supports that his knuckles whitened. "Not my best movement," he commented after a moment's silence to let the pain ebb. "I'm working on it, and the fact that I can feel the pain is supposed to be good. Means the nerves are still alive." Hannibal shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. Did Face think he had forgotten the details of his injury? Worse yet, was someone feeding him some bullshit that he could get better and walk again? He opened his mouth to voice his concern, but Face had beaten him to it. "But I do have some movements you wouldn't have expected, I think," Face said, noticing Hannibal getting ready to go into lecture mode, probably on being realistic. "Have a seat, this takes a little time to demonstrate," he said. Hannibal sat in one of the kitchen chairs and looked at Face expectantly. "Watch this!" Face grabbed two handholds that were placed between the drawers at the same height as the drawer handles. Then, to Hannibal's amazement, he pushed his feet out of the wheel chair supports and used the handholds to lever himself upright and then forward, so he was leaning against the kitchen counter. Then slowly, watching what he did, he slid first one foot and then the other until they were parallel with each other about six inches apart with the toes touching the cabinet bottom. He looked over at Hannibal, eyes shining. "Not quite done yet - but this is my best performance and I don't do encores. Once a day, no repeats, so watch carefully." He closed his eyes in concentration and slowly flexed his knees until they touched the cabinet. Then he opened his eyes and straightened up again. He paused for a moment, slightly out of breath, then moved one hand to the edge of the upper counter, using it for support. With the other, he reached for the handle to the nearest upper cabinet, opened it, and retrieved a box of cigars, one foot sliding back in slow motion, but fast enough to maintain his balance. He put the cigar box on the lower counter and paused leaning on his arms, head down and panting. But when he lifted his head again and pushed the cigars toward Hannibal, his expression was one of absolute triumph. One hand grasped a handhold again and Face reached back with the other to pull his wheel chair into place. Then, somehow making it seem like a graceful maneuver, he let his body topple back into the chair. "What do you think?" he asked, looking up once again at Hannibal. "That's amazing, kid," Hannibal said, meaning it. "Seems to take a lot out of you though." Face's breathing was still a little rapid, but he shook his head as he rolled over to Hannibal. "Not really. I forget to breathe is all. I can't feel anything below my knees, so I have to watch when I move my feet." Hannibal pointed out, "Your right foot slid back when you reached up. Looks like it did it on its own." "Did it?" Face looked surprised. "Like I said, I can't feel anything down there. That's new. I usually end up tilted forward more; that must be why I didn't this time. I'll have to remember to tell Cheryl." "Cheryl?" "My physical therapist. Very patient lady, but she doesn't allow the word 'can't' in her clients' vocabularies." "Well, you should be careful, nonetheless. You shouldn't do that when you're alone here. What if you fell?" "I'd crawl to my wheel chair and get back in." Face shook his head. "No, Hannibal. I'm standing - for very short periods, moving my feet a little, and I've got feeling down to my knees - I can feel them hit the cabinet. All in the last month." He didn't say "since I moved out," but he didn't have to. Hannibal tried to pacify him. "Look, kid, I wasn't trying to belittle your accomplishments. I said amazing and that's what I meant. I just don't want you to ..." Face cut him off. "Don't give me the speech about learning to live with my disability. I have. I am. I live inside this body twenty-four hours a day. I can't take a night off, or go to a movie and forget about it for an afternoon. But that doesn't mean I'm going to accept it. I'll fight for every millimeter of nerve ending and muscle I can get to obey me again." He paused and swallowed hard. "Hannibal, you've been parent, friend, and lover for over twenty years now. I still need you. I still want you to hold me, but don't hold me back. I could use your support - I can use all the support I can get. I know you got burned out. I let you take over; I didn't even try to do anything for myself until you weren't there for me. We both let it happen." "Are ... are you saying there's still a chance for us, Face?" Hannibal whispered. Face put a hand over Hannibal's on the table and shook his head sadly. "No, Hannibal," he said in a voice filled with regret. "Neither of us can undo what we've done to each other. I'm not sure you really could love me physically again anyway; you're too afraid of hurting this body. And I'm not sure I want you to try." His eyes were shining with tears as he met Hannibal's disappointed ones. "The temptation is still there, for me at least." "For me, too, kid." "But it's the wrong thing to do. I'm not sure I love BA, but I couldn't hurt him like going back to you would hurt him because I know he loves me." "If you don't love him, aren't you setting him up to be hurt?" It was a loaded question, but Hannibal was grasping at straws. "I don't think so. He knows I'm not sure. I know I respond to him. He's a very sensual man. But I turned to him in desperation, Hannibal. I thought if you couldn't love me, no one could - but I needed to know I still could love - have sex. And he understood and wasn't afraid. Not afraid of hurting me, and not afraid of being hurt either." Face laughed shakily. "He told me when I got moved in here, that he half expected you to show up in the garage and tell him to bring everything back upstairs." "Would he have?" "Oh, yeah. Definitely. That's how much he loves me. And you. So much that he never let on until you ... looked somewhere else. So much so that he'd let me go if that's what I wanted to do." He shook his head. "But I have to be sure I haven't got gratitude and friendship and lust mixed up with love. Because I *don't* want to hurt him. Does that make any sense?" "Yes. Yes it does. You're both finer men than I could ever hope to be. I'm proud to have called you friends. I only wish I had done better." Hannibal dropped his head and moved to stand up. Face grabbed Hannibal's hands. "You save my life - my soul - so many times. We had so much before we became lovers. Can't we try to save at least some of that?" Hannibal stood without pulling free of Face. "I want to say yes, Face. But I don't want make a promise I can't keep. I did that to you once already. I can't go back to being just your friend if I'm going to try to get you back into my bed every time I see you." Face nodded his agreement. "That would kill me, Hannibal." "I need some time to get my head straight. To understand myself - hell, I'd have ripped anyone else who did what I did to you apart with my bare hands. But I went right on." He turned away. "I thought you were too ... sick to even notice. I thought you couldn't give me what I needed. I justified what I did right up to the day you left." He laughed, a short, humorless bark. "Then I blamed BA for taking you from me." He sighed. "I need time to think and be honest with myself." He pulled Face out of the wheel chair and held him tightly. "I love you, Templeton Peck," he murmured into the blond hair. Face's arms came around him. "I love you, too, Hannibal Smith," Face said, pulling back to look into Hannibal's face. Face leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips. A kiss of friendship and farewell, yet not without hope. "I'll see myself out," Hannibal said when Face pulled away. He was no longer holding the younger man's weight. A small part of him noticed Face's feet had moved into a standing position under him; Face would walk again, Hannibal realized with certainty. "Take the cigars," Face instructed, unconsciously letting go of Hannibal with one hand to point to the box on the counter. "Thanks, kid," Hannibal said stepping out of the one-armed embrace, and dropping his own arms. Face swayed for a moment, then his hand found the table and he got his balance. A look of confusion passed over his face, quickly followed by one of delight - he was standing on his own, his fingertips providing only token balance and support. Hannibal met the look with one of paternal pride. Then he quickly turned and walked out. Standing at his car, he looked back at the house. "I wish you health and happiness, Lieutenant," he said softly. "And I'll find my way clear to see you healthy and happy. It may take time, but I'll promise you that."