fondestmemory

[at_face_value]

The job was going smoothly. It was going so smoothly that Face was actually beginning to get worried. No brawls, no guns pulled on them, none of the team had been kidnapped - it was enough to set a guy on edge. You would think infiltrating and bringing down a gun smuggling ring would have ended up with at least something going a little wrong. But it hadn’t. Which would be why he couldn’t shake the niggling feeling like the universe was saving up for one, big screw up.

The slime-ball of the week was a guy by the name of Franklin Roberts. He ran a minor gun running operation over the Mexican border; one that involved a lot of palm greasing. When someone didn’t agree with him, they were either paid off or run off - and when someone didn’t agree with him and refused to back down, things got very dangerous, very quickly. That was what their client, Harry, found out the hard way. Wound up in the hospital with a broken leg, a girlfriend in ICU, and lucky to be alive.

They always were a sucker for an underdog trying to do good.

The plan was simple enough; convince Roberts that they had a similar operation running in L.A., and that they wanted to work together. Face was up as the front-man, Hannibal was playing the money-man, and B.A. was their supplier. With the three of them having their faces known to Roberts, Murdock was acting as their behind-the-scenes support for the op.

But, for the moment, Face was in his element; and that was enough to soothe his raw nerves for now. The party was high class, the kind he hadn’t been able to visit in a long time. The downside of being assumed dead, apparently. He lifted a glass of champagne from a passing server, letting his eyes scan the crowd as he sipped it. God, he missed this. Might as well enjoy it while it lasted - which would probably be about three hours. He had a feeling Hannibal wouldn’t be picking up any more high profile jobs like this one for a while. Keeping their faces out of the media was a pretty integral part of the A-Team staying dead.

He casually glanced at the watch of a nearby guest - almost show time. Hannibal should be wrapping up his schmoozing sweep through the room, and Face had charmed his good share of guests. He had eyes on Roberts, and was just waiting for the moment to approach.

Comments

[fondestmemory]

The venue was exquisite, something Charissa wasn’t exactly used to. The higher class of people made her feel uncomfortable, not to mention having to dress up wasn’t exactly high on her list. Yet, if she was feeling out of her element it wasn’t showing this evening, a small clutch purse was kept close to her body as she maneuvered through a small crowd that had gathered outside the bathrooms to chat. With a glance over her shoulder the stepped into the bathroom and let out a faint sigh, while tilting her head back.

The heels of her shoes clicking gently along the tile floor, as she moved over to glance at herself in the mirror, surprised at what was looking back at her. She hadn’t worn a dress in years, not since she dated Peck and it oddly brought back memories she hadn’t been able to squish since his death. Shaking the thought she combed her fingers through her hair, before adjusting the top of the dress just a bit. It felt like it would cut off her oxygen supply at any time with the tightness around the chest, which thankfully was holding up the dress since it had no straps.

Another slight adjustment and she felt more able to move and breathe normally. Setting the purse down she opened it and glanced through the contents; keycard to her hotel room, small caliber handgun (you never knew when you’d need one), her military id and two sets of dog tags. Oh, and her lipstick which she was looking for. A quick touch up and she was back out and by the side of the man she had arrived with. No, he wasn’t her boyfriend he was actually the husband of a friend who was too far along in her pregnancy to attend and Sosa had been the stand in so to speak.

“I’m gonna grab a drink.”

With a polite smile she once again excuses herself, moving away from the small group that had formed around Clint her sights set on the open bar. She’s unaware as she moves that just for a second; she winds up coming into the line of sight of a man who’s supposed to be dead. She doesn’t notice, her mind drifting elsewhere as the call of liquor is rather strong and all she wants to do is drink until the party is over.

Reaching the bar she sighs and orders her drink, her gaze drifting off toward the side and for a moment she swears she sees Hannibal. Rubbing absently at her eyes, he’s quickly gone the next time she looks over. “Now, you’re seeing dead people Sosa….lovely.”

[at_face_value]

The party was moving along beautifully. No one would guess by the look of things that it was a thin cover for bribes and dirty deals. From his experience, the cleaner something looks, the dirtier it was. What was that saying? All that glitters is not gold? Well, there sure was a lot of glitter going on here - and not just because Chef Murdock kept sending out dainties that towered a little too high, covered in what was hopefully edible glitter. He smiled as an uncomfortable server passed by him with a platter full of the strangely decorated treats.

Face smoothed a hand down the front of his suit, his internal clock ticking down to show time. He spotted Hannibal, all teeth and slick charm, out of the corner of his eye getting in range of Roberts. Just like clockwork. Well, looked like he was up.

He raised his glass to drain the last of the expensive champagne, but halted in his movements. There, just for a moment, through a gap in the crowd, he saw her. It had been over a year since he had last seen her, at their trial, and it was like being hit with a sledge hammer. She wasn't supposed to be here. He checked the guest list - triple checked the guest list - to make sure there would be no surprises.

Fuck.

Face started moving before he knew it, backstepping into a throng of people to hide himself. He smiled. He laughed. He blended in. All the while his mind raced, working what was left of their plan around this cosmic turn of bad luck. Fuck, he knew it was going too smoothly. Fuck, he was supposed to be schmoozing with Roberts right now.

Breathe, Peck. Take a breath. Now start moving.

Hannibal was already searching for him in the crowd, no doubt noticing the missed step in their plan.

"We have a problem." Face said under his breath as he stepped up to the Colonel.

"What kind of a problem?"

"The kind that could make a big scene if we're made." He glanced to make sure she wasn't within earshot. "Sosa."

"Well, that does put a damper on things, doesn't it?" To his credit, Hannibal didn't look too worried about it. Knowing him, he already had a contingency plan for this. "Alright, you take care of our problem."

"What about Roberts?"

"Oh, you just leave Roberts to me. You just make sure our problem doesn't become a problem . Understood?"

Damn him, the bastard was grinning. He was actually enjoying everything going to hell. Sure, Hannibal's rock solid confidence steadied Face, but it still really rankled him.

"Yeah. Just - don't over do it, Hannibal. Okay?"

"Me? Why, I'd never dream of it."

Yeah. The man was definitely on the jazz,

Face set his empty flute glass on a passing tray, smoothing down his front again; a nervous habit. This was definitely not something he wanted to do, but it was either this or miss this window for getting at Roberts, and it would be pretty hard going to try and get another window open. Time to bite the bullet, Templeton.

He moved as quickly as he dared without drawing attention to himself, trying to find Charissa again in the crowd. The moment he spotted her, he snagged a passing server. With a smile and a hundred dollar bill tucked into the man's breast pocket, Face wheedled a little favor out of him.

"Just tell her that there's an old friend on the veranda that wants to see her." Face gave wink to the kid and a pat over the breast pocket. The server grinned knowingly, and Face was off, he needed to get outside to the emptiest part of the veranda. Out of sight and hearing of Roberts.

[fondestmemory]

With her side gently pressed against the bar, her eyes latched onto a passing server who seemed to be silently praying as the tray he carried wobbled on his palm. Taking in the oddly over towering dessert placed upon it, she could see why he was so worried. Was that glitter edible? Perhaps it was a good thing she enjoyed a meal before showing up.

“Vodka tonic.” The bartender placed her glass before her with a smile.

A smile that she could easily decipher was aimed toward her chest, rather than her face. Charissa moved her hand out for the drink, the other keeping her purse tucked in close to the front of her body. With the drink firmly in her hand, she threw the man a slightly disgusted look and moved a few inches away from the bar.

Heeled feet carrying her over toward one of the large windows that had the curtains tied back, a lovely view of a garden coming into her view through the lights that illuminated it and the moon adding a little flair.

After this drink, she planned to find Clint and let him know she was calling it a night. The plan would be to head back to her hotel, raid the mini bar and curl up in bed watching television. Sosa was enjoying a three day vacation, day one not being spent the way she liked but she had owed her friend a favor so here she was.

“Miss?” A voice drifts up behind her.

Having been lost in her thoughts, she didn’t even notice the reflection of a sever coming up behind her in the window. Taking a sip of her drink, she threw the kid a glance over her shoulder as if silently asking him what?

It’s the look she throws him that seems to make him falter a bit. She obviously didn’t want to be bothered, but he had a hundred tucked into his breast pocket and he wasn’t about to blow this for the man who had slipped it in there.

“There’s an old friend on the veranda who would like to see you.”

Turning around fully, she eyes the young man before setting her half empty drink on his tray and walking past him without a single word. It took her a bit before she spotted one of the doors leading to the veranda that had been left open just a smidgen, enough to let her know where to go.

Charissa glanced around before heading outside, gently pulling the door closed in the process as a chill hit her from the cool night air. Her pace was suddenly slow as she stepped further upon the veranda, following it around to the other side of the building.

[at_face_value]

Face stood just outside the reach of the light that spilled from the ballroom. He'd played this scenario out in his mind a hundred times before. He knew all the things he could possibly say; he knew all the reactions she could possibly have. But reality rarely went how even the most well thought out plans went. And reality was here now.

He saw her before she saw him. That was why he had chosen his position, after all. She was - well, she looked gorgeous. She always did, even in full tactical gear, but tonight she was stunning. He should have taken her to more places like this when he had the chance.

His hands flexed involuntarily, wishing he had picked up another glass on his way out there.

"Hey, beautiful." He said as he took a step just inside the light. There was no perk to his voice, none of the usual charm smothering his words.

[fondestmemory]

As she continued her slow pace down the veranda, one hand absently slid along her arm. She hadn’t thought to bring a jacket with her, as there had been no plans for her to step foot outside until it was time to leave and with her hotel right across the way the walk wouldn’t have been horrible. The wind continued to blow gently as she glanced around, senses starting to tingle as she thought to pull her gun out just in case.

The voice floored her instantly. Her gaze which was set out toward the side over the railing soon turned forward to land on him as she came to an abrupt stop in her steps. He was supposed to be dead – how was he…

“Templeton,” she finally uttered after what felt like an hour of just staring at him. He looked handsome as ever and it was hard for her to gage a single emotion at this point and time. She wanted to yell, to run over and slap him for not telling her – at the same time she wanted to cry and just have him hold her.

After a moment she moved again, that slow pace she had been taken moving into something more urgent as she closed the distance between them and her arms slipped around his neck as she just buried her face into the crock. Yes, she was shaking.

[at_face_value]

A weight fell off his shoulders as she embraced him. All of the what if, what if, what if thoughts that had been churning inside of his head since he last saw her fell away as he leaned in to her. His arms came up instantly and wrapped around her, drawing her closer. He buried his face in her shoulder and drew in a deep breath. The familiar scent and closeness brought countless memories bubbling to the surface. For a moment he could forget about the job, Roberts, Hannibal - everything but the two of them.

"I'm sorry." He said quietly. Sorry for a hundred different things. Sorry wasn't nearly enough to cover it.

[fondestmemory]

It’s when he drew her in closer that she seemed to notice the few stray tears that had started to run down her cheeks. She doesn’t have it in her to move though, and instead allows them to fall as she just enjoys the embrace. I’m sorry. The words cause her body to stiffen in his hold, as she shifts just enough to pull back and stare at him. They were still close, her arms still wrapped around his neck she’d only put a mere gap between them. Sosa shook her head and turned her eyes down away from his blue ones.

“A year,” she began softly. “You’ve been alive for a year and don’t tell me?”

[at_face_value]

Guilt threatened to take a hold of him. There weren't many people outside of the team that could stir that genuine feeling of guilt in Face, but Charissa was one of them. He shoved the feeling deep down, refusing to let it take over. He had already given in enough - he needed a clear head in case things went wrong inside with Roberts.

"Rissa..." He soothed, letting his hands run down to rest on her waist. "I couldn't. You had eyes on you, it wasn't safe. I wanted to - believe me, I wanted to - but it would have put everyone in danger. Including you."

[fondestmemory]

“You’re always in danger.” She pointed out, before her breath hitched slightly as she felt his hands run down to rest on her waist. With a sigh she leaned forward to press her forehead against his own, arms still secure around his neck. Charissa was finding she had to fight off the urge to suddenly hit him, while she was touched he cared about her safety – she hated that he kept this from her.

She had mourned him. When it came to Peck, nobody else compared. It was the reason she was married to her job, after leaving him she knew nobody else was right for her. It’s what made this harder. He was alive and she was without a doubt happy, silent tears still spilling down her cheeks. But, he’d been alive for year without word and she couldn’t deny that it hurt, like she wasn’t trusted. Like she wasn’t worth the risk.

“Least I know I’m not seeing dead people, saw Hannibal on my way to the bar.”

[at_face_value]

Face gave a small smile, a silent apology. He reached a hand up to rest his hand on her cheek, brushing the tears away with his thumb. God, he hated it when women cried, but this was different. Charissa wasn't like most of the women he fooled around with - she wasn't like any of them. They might have been happy tears, but they cut Face just as deep.

"Did you get a look at Murdock's handiwork? I almost feel bad for those servers." He laughed, quiet and encouraging, trying to get a smile or laugh out of her.

[fondestmemory]

Her skin was chilled from the cool breeze, so his warm hand upon her cheek was welcome. She felt the gentle motion as his thumb made haste of the tears that had fallen along her cheek. Sosa couldn’t help but smile at the mention of the kitchen creations she had seen floating about, her head shaking a bit as she laughed while leaning just a bit more into Face’s touch.

“Is that glitter even edible?” She asked, the smile soon fading from her lips as she closed her eyes for a mere second. “What’s the job?”

[at_face_value]

"Who knows. I wouldn't eat anything, just in case." His smile grew warmly as she laughed. It wasn't a deep or well felt laugh, but it was still her laugh; he missed that sound. He held on to it as long as the brief moment lasted, but the laugh and smile were gone too soon. He stroked her cheek with his thumb again.

Of course she knew they were there for a job. She wasn't an idiot. He was, for thinking he could gl through this without her knowing why nearly the entire team just happened to be at a high end party like this.

"It doesn't matter. It's just a job." Hannibal may not have given him any orders to keep a lid on it when he took care of their 'problem', but Face didn't need to be told. Honestly, Sosa was a wildcard. That was why he had lured her outside, rather than approaching her at the bar. If the colonel decided the job was more important than continuing to keep Charissa in the dark about their.. status, then it was more important to make sure nothing interfered with the job. Nothing, not even the niggling feeling of guilt in his gut.

[fondestmemory]

“Noted.” She replied. Thankfully, with the meal she had beforehand nothing that came out of the kitchen looked intriguing. An arm moved from around his neck and came to rest along her side, the other unmoving as allowed a faint sigh to leave her lips. Even as his thumb ran along her cheek again, she couldn’t help but feel annoyed in a way at not only him, but the team in general.

This was beyond risky. The military not to mention, anybody who read the paper or watched the news knew the A-Team to be dead. A high class venue like this, it was just asking for something to go wrong and perhaps it already had with her in the equation now.

“It matters to me.” Charissa said as her eyes opened to glance at him. Those blue eyes of his – god she was such a sucker for them. Perhaps, this was the point where she should part from him. Tell him to be careful and leave, but the moment she gets ready to music pours out of the ballroom, causing a smile to fall along her painted lips. There was no band, whoever had orchestrated this even was just using prerecorded music.

“Dance with me.” It’s not a question, nor was it a command either. She just couldn’t leave him yet.

[at_face_value]

He was deaf to the music until the moment she asked to dance. He opened his mouth to protest, but the words died on his tongue. The song was unfamiliar to him, but there was something to the melody. Without even fully committing to it, he found himself swaying slightly along with the music.

He drew his head back just enough to turn and look in the direction of the ballroom. No signs of Hannibal throwing caution to the wind and going over board; not just yet, anyway. The calm before the storm. A more genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips, hands falling to return once again to Charissa’s waist.

“Ah, what the hell.” He said halfway under his breath. One hand slid to the small of her back, the initial swaying to the music becoming more purposeful and smooth. “I never could say no to a beautiful woman.”

[fondestmemory]

With her arms still secure around his neck, she found herself being pressed up against him just a bit more when his hand slid up to rest against the small of her back. Charissa began to sway along with him, her head moving to rest against his shoulder as they danced together under the night sky. Though her skin was still chilled from the night air that blew around them, it didn’t matter. He held her close and he was warm and inviting.

Her lips drew into a smile, a smile that was beyond genuine. Truthfully, she couldn’t remember the last time she smiled the way she was now. A content sigh passes through her lips as she closes her eyes, getting lost in the moment with him. She had questions, yes but right now wasn’t the time to ask them.

A plan was starting to form in her mind. It’d be easy to pull off, she’d just have to make it quick before either all hell broke loose, or Hannibal caught Face’s attention from inside.

[at_face_value]

All thoughts of Hannibal and the job fell from his mind as they moved to the music. He'd been close to people since his faked death, a girl for every day of the week, but there was always a tender spot in him for her - she was his weakness. It was a perfect night, even the crisp in the air. The chill on his skin made every nerve ending stand on end.

the weight of her head on his shoulder stirred memories and feelings in him. How many times had they danced like this? Just the two of them in the still night air. Too many to count.

He turned his face down to her bare shoulder. He could feel the chill in her skin as he pressed a feather light kiss to it. "You're freezing, babe," He murmured.

Regretting the loss of contact before he even moved, Face gently pulled her arms from his neck and moved back just enough to slide his jacket from his shoulders. He swung it around to settle it on her shoulders, smiling a mixture of charm and genuine warmness. The faint scent of Hannibal's cigars bled into the close space between them from the inner pockets of his jacket.

[fondestmemory]

That had been the difference between the two. While, Face had his fair share of women since they broke up and more than likely since he faked his death, Charissa had perhaps only been one two maybe three dates in that length of time. While she’d obviously been married to her job which took up a considerable amount of time, she also knew that she’d never find anybody like Face. He was her better half.

She closed her eyes as they continued to sway together under the night sky. She’d missed this. Another content sigh as she took in his scent while they remained close to each other, those arms around his neck never wanting to let go.

As if the chill in her skin wasn’t bad enough, that feather light kiss he pressed to her bare shoulder was enough to physically make her shiver. “I’m fine.” She replied.

Lifting her head from his shoulder, Sosa allowed him to gently remove her arms from around his neck. With her arms coming to rest in front of her, both hands firmly holding onto her purse she smiled as he settled his jacket down onto her shoulders. “Always a gentleman.” She chuckled, before noting the cigar smell that was blended into his own scent from the jacket. “Can’t Hannibal carry his own cigars?” The question posed with a raised brow.

Her fingers moved to open her purse, the keycard to her room slipping into the palm of her hand before she stepped closer to Face to once again close the distance between them. They needed to talk and she hoped after this job he could steal a few hours away from the team. “Thank you, for the dance.” The words dropped off as she leaned in to press her lips against his own, the keycard in her hand being placed into the front pocket of his dress pants.

[at_face_value]

Face couldn’t help but to grin at her comment about Hannibal. Sure, there were a lot of things Hannibal could do for himself. The only problem was that he figured out a long time ago that Face could and would just do those little things for him. He had been young and eager to please his CO when he first started with the cigars - B.A. bluntly said he had been kissing ass. And he had been absolutely right. Funny how little things like that could carry on for so long.

But he didn’t want to think about Hannibal right now. There was a beautiful woman pressed against him, and Hannibal Smith ought to stay out of his head and in the damn ballroom.

He leaned into the kiss, eyes closing as he reached to cup the side of her face. God, he’d missed her. The moment her hands moved to begin to slip something into his pocket, he shifted slightly to ensure the pass was hidden from sight by the open jacket that surrounded her. The keycard was a familiar shape in his pocket, and this definitely wasn’t the first time he’d felt someone slip one of those into his pocket. But Charissa wasn’t some stranger he’d picked up in a bar any night of the week - just standing there with him was damn dangerous, much less if someone caught her slipping him a key to her room.

He pulled back from the kiss, just barely enough to speak, and opened his eyes to grin at her. “I should dance with you more often.”

[fondestmemory]

His lips were just how she remembered. As she felt his hand rest against the side of her face, Charissa couldn’t stop herself from deepening the kiss slightly. There had been no denying how much she missed him when that happened. The pass off the keycard went smoothly; she had known the second he felt something moving to slip into his pocket he’d accommodate to pull it off without a hitch. Once it was tucked away into his pocket, her fingers lingered along the fabric before she moved her hand to rest against his chest.

She almost whimpered when his lips parted from her own, eyes slowly opening to a grin plastered upon his lips. “I think we established that years ago.” She replied with a smile of her own, before a sigh fell through her already parted lips.

This was when they needed to part for the remainder of the evening. He had a job to do, she needed to get back to her hotel and out of the tight dress and into something more comfortable. She leaned back a bit and reached into the inside pocket of the jacket, producing the cigars stored there and handing them over. Oh, he could get his jacket back later.

“You might need these.”

[at_face_value]

Face grinned as he took the civars, leaning in to steal a brief, parting kiss. It was tempting, so very tempting, to linger there in that moment with her. But the scent of the cigars was stronger now that he held them, bringing Hannibal to the forefront of his mind again.

Dammit, Hannibal.

He sighed, a short, frustrated sigh. "Right. Thanks." She had likely saved him a smart remark and a look from the colonel by passing him those cigars back.

[fondestmemory]

He just had to steal a parting kiss didn’t he? That made it more tempting to linger just a bit longer on the veranda with him. Charissa had a feeling she killed the mood that had been building up between them, feelings that hadn’t stirred in a while once she handed him the cigars. It had to happen though. They could pick up where they left off when he came to see her later.

She found herself leaning in again, this time however her lips touched his cheek gently. “I’ll see you later. I missed you.” The words came out softly, lips brushing against his cheek with each word. A second later she backed away and pulled his jacket around her shoulders a bit tighter. With a smile she turned around and made her way back inside.

She was hoping that Clint would be ready to go, that his pregnant wife would text him with some weird ass pregnancy craving and they could bail. If not, she’d get a cab. Granted the hotel was only three blocks away, she really didn’t want to walk in her heels all the way there.

[at_face_value]

Face's eyes followed Charissa's retreating form until she disappeared out of sight. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, turning his face to the ground, hands resting on his hips. It'd be a lie if he said he wasn't a little shaken up. Charissa had been out of his life for more than a year now, and all it took was one look, one little dance, to drag him back down into it all again. She always had a way of doing that to him.

He ran a thumb over his lower lip, the taste of her mouth still dancing on his tongue. His skin felt like it was on fire, hearting beating hard his in chest now that it was over. It was always like that, the surge of adrenaline after pulling off a con - only this wasn't a con.

"You're playing with fire, kid,"

Face turned sharply at Hannibal's voice. The Colonel was leaning against the nearby door frame. Only god knew how long he'd been there. Face swallowed at the lump in his throat and smiled, nice and easy - Hannibal probably saw right through it.

"Well, it's a bit brisk out here. Just trying to keep warm, Colonel." He took a step towards Hannibal so they wouldn't be overheard, "How'd it go with Roberts?"

"Oh, I laid my usual charm on him. He wants to set up a meeting with our buyer." Hannibal raised his eyebrows and held out his hand, "I noticed you took your sweet time. I trust our little problem is taken care of?"

Face nodded and placed a cigar into Hannibal's outstretched, waiting hand. "I'm lucky she didn't shoot me." He tried to play it off, reaching for his jacket pocket to retrieve a lighter - only to realise it was with Charissa. Damn.

Hannibal met Face's grimace with a very pointed look and reached for his own lighter. "We rendezvous with Murdock and B.A. at 200 hour. " He paused in lighting his cigar to raise his eyebrows again at Face. "That isn't going to be a problem, is it? I would hate to interfere with your social life, Lieutenant."

Face could feel the keycard burning a hole in his pocket. He rolled his eyes and hid as best he could the flush creeping up his neck. Damnit, how long was Hannibal standing there? "No, no. No problem at all. We need to get going if I'm going to get those documents done. You can catch me up on the way."

Hannibal grinned, broad and all teeth, and plucked the rest of the cigars from Face's hand and tucked them into his jacket, "Alright then, Casanova, let's get going."

Face really hated Hannibal sometimes. He led the way out of there, to the valet, mostly because he couldn't stand the thought of watching the back of Hannibal's grinning head. He went through a mental checklist if the documents he needed to forge to make this deal work. It was just barely enough to put his head back in the job and away from the card in his pocket that he just itched to pull out and look at.

It would have to wait. Charissa would have known he couldn't get away just yet, but he hoped a she could hold on a few more days.