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darth_stitchPart One Here
His fingers absently pick out a tune on the piano keys. The former Dark Lord had seen the way the Colonel had looked at his beloved Steinway and gave permission for Hannibal to play if he wished. Hannibal's already got the glimmerings of the Plan in mind within the few minutes he'd asked from B.A. – the music helps him focus, helps him think so he can fine tune all the details.
Hannibal knows Morrie understands that all too well.
Making music isn't a luxury he can indulge in too often – it doesn't have a place in the midst of a war. He's not really playing seriously – right now, it's just a game, rearranging an old familiar tune in a different way, one part of his mind enjoying the diversion while he thinks about this new mission they've got.
Murdock still insists on calling it a Quest, though.
Hannibal's not really a stranger to the odd and bizarre – he doesn't like to admit to it, but he knows he has always been something of a weirdness magnet since childhood. He's also gone through some completely screwed up, Twilight Zone-worthy missions in his long career as a soldier. He knows he's got buddies who still wake up screaming from the nightmares.
But somehow, Hannibal's always managed to find that spark of defiance, to not give in to the terror and the fear and the madness that beckoned so invitingly. He'll fight against it, with everything he's got, to the bitterest end. He can leave those memories in the past where they belong because he's here now, alive and whole.
Special Forces training doesn't cover impossible Quests and magical jewels, Face has told him. Hannibal knows that. But he also understood what was really at stake here when Morrie had laid it out all before them. The former Dark Lord didn't tell those stories like a storyteller would – he was telling things as any old soldier would talk about what he'd seen and lived through, the truth plain as day.
This wasn't like the mission with Morrison – a little of that was pride talking but the intention to help and to make sure Pike's Black Forest goons weren't going to pull some scam and indulge in their bloody excesses was absolutely genuine. This was one of those missions that the team had to take, because duty demanded it and because there was no one else who could do the job.
He didn't need Feanor telling him and Murdock that cockamamie story about belonging to some special bloodline – Hannibal still had difficulty wrapping his head around that, not to mention the somewhat awed looks that kid Oliver had been giving his way. There was just no one else to help except Hannibal and his team.
Figuring out where the treasure hunters and the Silmaril were hiding was probably going to be the easiest part of the plan. Making sure that he and his boys made it out alive was the tricky part.
Hannibal wasn't going to fail his team. Not this time.
"This is what we call being literally on the jazz, Boss," Face teases him, coming over and leaning against the closed piano lid.
"I was remembering how we were trying to distract B.A. while Murdock was about to knock him out so we could get him on that plane," Hannibal tells him. "It was the first song that popped into my head."
"Yeah, you said that too the last time when we were playing bait during that gag in Puerto Rico," Face points out. "You got that as your Last Song Syndrome, Hannibal, I swear."
"Lucky I didn't end up playing that when you were doing your shows in New Orleans," Hannibal doesn't know what devil of mischief made him say that.
What happened between them on that stage in New Orleans should be a closed book. Hannibal knows Face is far more comfortable calling it as part of the act and he doesn't want to push the issue. And he doesn't want to dwell too closely on thoughts of how good and how oddly right it felt to kiss the other man and how much he wants to do that all over again and not call it acting.
Hannibal rather likes how that tell-tale flush starts creeping up over Face's cheeks though.
"Next time, you be the one in drag," Face grumbles.
"Noooo," Hannibal teases him in turn. "You look better in that than I would." He tries not to laugh as his lieutenant stops himself from visibly preening.
"I've put the word out," Face tells him, all business now and Hannibal lets him change the subject. "Gotta be some news out there of a sparkly rare jewel up for sale. Those guys won't be able to resist."
"They'll probably scam the poor sap who'll put up the money and still keep the jewel for themselves. Morrie and Feanor say that things seem to always work out that way when the Silmarils are involved." Hannibal nods his approval. "An excellent start, Lieutenant."
"Damn and here I was supposed to gripe at you over how crazy and fucked up this is, Colonel," Face answers dryly. "Don't get me wrong – whither thou goest and all that, y'know? I still claim dibs on griping about it though."
Hannibal snorts. "Smart-ass. Go to sleep – we'll be very busy tomorrow."
Face salutes him at his snappy best. "Sir, yes, sir!"
"Get!" Hannibal makes a threatening gesture and Face laughs. As he takes his leave, he's singing the first lines in the chorus of the song Hannibal's been playing with the entire time.
-tbc-
Author's Notes:
"You Are My Sunshine" – music/lyrics by Oliver Hood / Jimmie Davis / Charles Mitchell
Somewhere in the back of my head lies a further story on that You Are My Sunshine song.
Hannibal's still keeping mum about those Twilight Zone-type missions of his though. (rolls eyes at Hannibal Muse) Not like those Bunniez are going to pop up and start gnawing on my head anytime soon, right?
We Can Be Heroes
An A-Team Movie Verse & Club Denial Fan Fiction
by Darth Stitch
Interlude: A Conversation and a Tune in the Key of Sunshine
His fingers absently pick out a tune on the piano keys. The former Dark Lord had seen the way the Colonel had looked at his beloved Steinway and gave permission for Hannibal to play if he wished. Hannibal's already got the glimmerings of the Plan in mind within the few minutes he'd asked from B.A. – the music helps him focus, helps him think so he can fine tune all the details.
Hannibal knows Morrie understands that all too well.
Making music isn't a luxury he can indulge in too often – it doesn't have a place in the midst of a war. He's not really playing seriously – right now, it's just a game, rearranging an old familiar tune in a different way, one part of his mind enjoying the diversion while he thinks about this new mission they've got.
Murdock still insists on calling it a Quest, though.
Hannibal's not really a stranger to the odd and bizarre – he doesn't like to admit to it, but he knows he has always been something of a weirdness magnet since childhood. He's also gone through some completely screwed up, Twilight Zone-worthy missions in his long career as a soldier. He knows he's got buddies who still wake up screaming from the nightmares.
But somehow, Hannibal's always managed to find that spark of defiance, to not give in to the terror and the fear and the madness that beckoned so invitingly. He'll fight against it, with everything he's got, to the bitterest end. He can leave those memories in the past where they belong because he's here now, alive and whole.
Special Forces training doesn't cover impossible Quests and magical jewels, Face has told him. Hannibal knows that. But he also understood what was really at stake here when Morrie had laid it out all before them. The former Dark Lord didn't tell those stories like a storyteller would – he was telling things as any old soldier would talk about what he'd seen and lived through, the truth plain as day.
This wasn't like the mission with Morrison – a little of that was pride talking but the intention to help and to make sure Pike's Black Forest goons weren't going to pull some scam and indulge in their bloody excesses was absolutely genuine. This was one of those missions that the team had to take, because duty demanded it and because there was no one else who could do the job.
He didn't need Feanor telling him and Murdock that cockamamie story about belonging to some special bloodline – Hannibal still had difficulty wrapping his head around that, not to mention the somewhat awed looks that kid Oliver had been giving his way. There was just no one else to help except Hannibal and his team.
Figuring out where the treasure hunters and the Silmaril were hiding was probably going to be the easiest part of the plan. Making sure that he and his boys made it out alive was the tricky part.
Hannibal wasn't going to fail his team. Not this time.
The other night dear, as I lay sleeping
I dreamed I held you in my arms
But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken
So I hung my head and I cried.
"This is what we call being literally on the jazz, Boss," Face teases him, coming over and leaning against the closed piano lid.
"I was remembering how we were trying to distract B.A. while Murdock was about to knock him out so we could get him on that plane," Hannibal tells him. "It was the first song that popped into my head."
"Yeah, you said that too the last time when we were playing bait during that gag in Puerto Rico," Face points out. "You got that as your Last Song Syndrome, Hannibal, I swear."
"Lucky I didn't end up playing that when you were doing your shows in New Orleans," Hannibal doesn't know what devil of mischief made him say that.
What happened between them on that stage in New Orleans should be a closed book. Hannibal knows Face is far more comfortable calling it as part of the act and he doesn't want to push the issue. And he doesn't want to dwell too closely on thoughts of how good and how oddly right it felt to kiss the other man and how much he wants to do that all over again and not call it acting.
Hannibal rather likes how that tell-tale flush starts creeping up over Face's cheeks though.
"Next time, you be the one in drag," Face grumbles.
"Noooo," Hannibal teases him in turn. "You look better in that than I would." He tries not to laugh as his lieutenant stops himself from visibly preening.
"I've put the word out," Face tells him, all business now and Hannibal lets him change the subject. "Gotta be some news out there of a sparkly rare jewel up for sale. Those guys won't be able to resist."
"They'll probably scam the poor sap who'll put up the money and still keep the jewel for themselves. Morrie and Feanor say that things seem to always work out that way when the Silmarils are involved." Hannibal nods his approval. "An excellent start, Lieutenant."
"Damn and here I was supposed to gripe at you over how crazy and fucked up this is, Colonel," Face answers dryly. "Don't get me wrong – whither thou goest and all that, y'know? I still claim dibs on griping about it though."
Hannibal snorts. "Smart-ass. Go to sleep – we'll be very busy tomorrow."
Face salutes him at his snappy best. "Sir, yes, sir!"
"Get!" Hannibal makes a threatening gesture and Face laughs. As he takes his leave, he's singing the first lines in the chorus of the song Hannibal's been playing with the entire time.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,
You make me happy, when skies are gray…
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away…
-tbc-
Author's Notes:
"You Are My Sunshine" – music/lyrics by Oliver Hood / Jimmie Davis / Charles Mitchell
Somewhere in the back of my head lies a further story on that You Are My Sunshine song.
Hannibal's still keeping mum about those Twilight Zone-type missions of his though. (rolls eyes at Hannibal Muse) Not like those Bunniez are going to pop up and start gnawing on my head anytime soon, right?
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Date: 2010-08-18 11:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-22 06:33 am (UTC)