Mischief (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
katydidmischief) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
cjs_own2010-08-07 07:54 pm
katydidmischief) wrote in cjs_own2010-08-07 07:54 pm
Fic: Ad Honorem, 1/1. Gen.
disclaimer. Not mine and none of the events described here in have any basis in reality.
title. Ad Honorem
rating. PG-13
pairing. None; Gen.
summary. Morrison thinks that the Rangers hit the jackpot with Hannibal and his team.
warnings. Main character injury - Face.
notes. Written for this prompt at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
a_team_kink.
Ad Honorem
One. His direct subordinate wakes him up at 0200 and he's not pleased (going to bed at 0100 will do that), but when Lewis says, "They can't find Peck," his mood softens: Face shouldn't be out of the infirmary for days yet – that shrapnel had cut deep and the surgeon had proscribed IV antibiotics.
Russ knows, though, exactly where Face is. He doesn't have to second guess, or theorize – he just knows.
It takes all of six minutes to traverse the camp from his tent to the one housing Smith and his team, and less than thirty seconds for Russ to knock, fling open the door, and find that he is right: Peck is tucked, safely, in his bunk. A bunk that has been shoved away from the far side of the tent to rest between Hannibal's and BA's. Murdock's is opposite, but he's turned it so it's facing the door and he's laying with eyes wide, trained on Morrison.
Slowly he backs out, slowly shutting the door in order to stop the snap of it, and smiles to himself. It's not a mission, it's not death defying, but this is Hannibal Smith and his team at their core and it's what makes them great.
"Sir?" Lewis jogs up. "I've got the night watch aware that Peck's missing and they're standing by to do a search."
"Unnecessary, son. Tell them to standdown and then get yourself back to your bunk – the lieutenant's fine," he says and walks toward his tend, only to be waylaid.
"General," Pike starts, "You have a minute?"
Two. BA comes into the camp with Face slung over one shoulder and won't let anyone touch him. It's clear the kid is on edge; he won't listen to the medics or Murdock or even Hannibal, which is not like Baracus at all – he usually falls over himself to do what Hannibal asks of him, always has.
He's Hannibal's most obedient son (and son he is, blood notwithstanding) and to not listen to him? It unnerves Russ; BA is one of the few men to come under Hannibal's command who follows orders to a T (even in the face of his fear of flying). Even when Morrison had questioned the kid's abilities – he's an airborne Ranger they have to drug to get into flight – and when he'd questioned the charges that had gotten BA tossed from the Army in the first place, BA had done everything Hannibal asked of him. He'd respected Morrison, knowing he wasn't automatically trusted, and that's what had ultimately won over the older man.
"Corporal," Russ calls out, "Let go of Peck."
He obeys, alertness finally coming into his eyes, and he lets the medics take the bleeding Lieutenant away, as Hannibal says, "Good job, BA."
Baracus only shrugs, walks away, leaving Hannibal to tell Russ, "We screwed the pooch... Ordinance blew early, Face threw BA out of the way. Got hit."
Russ nods. Yeah, that sounds right.
"We were separated." Hannibal rubs his eyes, obviously feeling the exhaustion even as he jitters right in front of Russ (ready to run, to be with his men), and adds, "BA carried him to the chopper and kept pressure on the worst bleeder."
Morrison thinks that says it all.
Three. Murdock. Oh, there are no words to describe Henry Murdock (and lord alive, let no man on the Earth find out that his first name is Henry), and Morrison doesn't try to. He doesn't think there's a way to adequately explain the odd, balanced mix of eccentricity and intelligence that is Murdock.
Okay, yes, at first, Morrison had put up one hell of a fight – that lunatic was not stepping foot in his camp, no way in fucking hell. "He's suicidal, Hannibal!" he'd said, over and over, trying to get the point across that men with mental problems, men that Hannibal found in mental hospitals, do not belong in his camp.
"One shot, Russ, one. That's all I'm asking. Let him show you how good he is," Smith had pushed. Pushed, and pushed, until finally, Murdock's transfer was approved.
"Hold onto your hats, boys!" Murdock yells now; he jams the stick to the side and the chopper banks and fuck it all, this is why Russ normally stays in HQ – he does not miss this, the high speed escape from areas they weren't even supposed to be in.
"You know, for a covert team," he starts to say, and stops as the chopper begins to flip. They don't go all the way over, but Murdock's whooping in glee; he turns them around (they are facing the enemy – facing!) and fires at Hannibal's command before whipping off again.
When they get back to base, Morrison is tempted to kiss the ground but he gets it now and he can tell from Hannibal's eyes that his friend knows it.
Four. Morrison doesn't know when Face became someone other than the scruffy kid that'd tried to con Hannibal, the kid whose psych eval had actually said Ticking time bomb. How Hannibal had gotten that ignored, Russ doesn't know, and he doesn't want to, not after Face had cleaned up. After he'd proven the kind of man he really was.
And the kind of man Templeton Peck was (is) surpasses all expectation.
"Sorry, sir," he tells Morrison, as he tries to stand up straight and proper despite the swollen ankle; he's got a bruised cheek, black eye, his shirt torn, and still looks an honorable man while the man at Peck's feet... he's the trash that Morrison had once thought the young man to be.
Behind Face, there's a young woman, clearly fresh from Ranger school (the world hasn't broken the spirit in her eyes). She's got a reddening welt on her face in the form of a handprint; it doesn't take Russ more than a few minutes to piece together what's caused the brawl in his mess tent.
He calls for the MPs and tells Face that this is SOP, to give his report and to then report to HQ – they have something to discuss, he says. Really, they have something to toast, and when Face makes it to the tent, there's a glass of whiskey already poured.
Morrison may have seen him as trash once, but Rangers – true Rangers – are honorable, moral, loyal and Face is all of those.
Five. He's known Hannibal the longest – since the man was little more than a boy in basic, somewhat defiant but fucking brilliant – and he's not really surprised by Hannibal much these days. Sometimes, though, Morrison thinks that the Rangers hit the jackpot with Hannibal, with those kids Hannibal calls his team.
This is one of those times, as Russ listens to the trauma surgeon talk while the boy in the bed behind him slumbers on. One of those times for sure: that boy is a twenty-year-old civilian, captured by the insurgents. He'd been burned by the Iraqi sun, starved, and beaten, and he'd been filmed for a video, gun to head; they'd written him off for dead (many, not all).
And Hannibal... Hannibal had gotten wind of where that kid was being held, woken up Russ in the middle of the night, and gotten his team geared. Two days of no contact, Russ had been on edge, waiting, and then the call had come.
Russ, we have him. Have the docs standing by – and tell them to not ask why Face looks like a smurf. Morrison thinks he'll never forget those words, for so many reasons.
Later, Hannibal explains the delay and why the in-and-out plan was less out than in. He's confident and sure, doesn't trip over his words, and Russ knows that this is why Hannibal's his oldest friend – he knows his strengths and his place and doesn't push the boundaries unless he knows the odds are in his favor. Hannibal's a good man and a good Ranger, and he's fucking good at what he does.
So like he said, sometimes he thinks the Rangers hit the jackpot with Hannibal and this is one of those times.
title. Ad Honorem
rating. PG-13
pairing. None; Gen.
summary. Morrison thinks that the Rangers hit the jackpot with Hannibal and his team.
warnings. Main character injury - Face.
notes. Written for this prompt at
a_team_kink.One.
Russ knows, though, exactly where Face is. He doesn't have to second guess, or theorize – he just knows.
It takes all of six minutes to traverse the camp from his tent to the one housing Smith and his team, and less than thirty seconds for Russ to knock, fling open the door, and find that he is right: Peck is tucked, safely, in his bunk. A bunk that has been shoved away from the far side of the tent to rest between Hannibal's and BA's. Murdock's is opposite, but he's turned it so it's facing the door and he's laying with eyes wide, trained on Morrison.
Slowly he backs out, slowly shutting the door in order to stop the snap of it, and smiles to himself. It's not a mission, it's not death defying, but this is Hannibal Smith and his team at their core and it's what makes them great.
"Sir?" Lewis jogs up. "I've got the night watch aware that Peck's missing and they're standing by to do a search."
"Unnecessary, son. Tell them to standdown and then get yourself back to your bunk – the lieutenant's fine," he says and walks toward his tend, only to be waylaid.
"General," Pike starts, "You have a minute?"
He's Hannibal's most obedient son (and son he is, blood notwithstanding) and to not listen to him? It unnerves Russ; BA is one of the few men to come under Hannibal's command who follows orders to a T (even in the face of his fear of flying). Even when Morrison had questioned the kid's abilities – he's an airborne Ranger they have to drug to get into flight – and when he'd questioned the charges that had gotten BA tossed from the Army in the first place, BA had done everything Hannibal asked of him. He'd respected Morrison, knowing he wasn't automatically trusted, and that's what had ultimately won over the older man.
"Corporal," Russ calls out, "Let go of Peck."
He obeys, alertness finally coming into his eyes, and he lets the medics take the bleeding Lieutenant away, as Hannibal says, "Good job, BA."
Baracus only shrugs, walks away, leaving Hannibal to tell Russ, "We screwed the pooch... Ordinance blew early, Face threw BA out of the way. Got hit."
Russ nods. Yeah, that sounds right.
"We were separated." Hannibal rubs his eyes, obviously feeling the exhaustion even as he jitters right in front of Russ (ready to run, to be with his men), and adds, "BA carried him to the chopper and kept pressure on the worst bleeder."
Morrison thinks that says it all.
Okay, yes, at first, Morrison had put up one hell of a fight – that lunatic was not stepping foot in his camp, no way in fucking hell. "He's suicidal, Hannibal!" he'd said, over and over, trying to get the point across that men with mental problems, men that Hannibal found in mental hospitals, do not belong in his camp.
"One shot, Russ, one. That's all I'm asking. Let him show you how good he is," Smith had pushed. Pushed, and pushed, until finally, Murdock's transfer was approved.
"Hold onto your hats, boys!" Murdock yells now; he jams the stick to the side and the chopper banks and fuck it all, this is why Russ normally stays in HQ – he does not miss this, the high speed escape from areas they weren't even supposed to be in.
"You know, for a covert team," he starts to say, and stops as the chopper begins to flip. They don't go all the way over, but Murdock's whooping in glee; he turns them around (they are facing the enemy – facing!) and fires at Hannibal's command before whipping off again.
When they get back to base, Morrison is tempted to kiss the ground but he gets it now and he can tell from Hannibal's eyes that his friend knows it.
And the kind of man Templeton Peck was (is) surpasses all expectation.
"Sorry, sir," he tells Morrison, as he tries to stand up straight and proper despite the swollen ankle; he's got a bruised cheek, black eye, his shirt torn, and still looks an honorable man while the man at Peck's feet... he's the trash that Morrison had once thought the young man to be.
Behind Face, there's a young woman, clearly fresh from Ranger school (the world hasn't broken the spirit in her eyes). She's got a reddening welt on her face in the form of a handprint; it doesn't take Russ more than a few minutes to piece together what's caused the brawl in his mess tent.
He calls for the MPs and tells Face that this is SOP, to give his report and to then report to HQ – they have something to discuss, he says. Really, they have something to toast, and when Face makes it to the tent, there's a glass of whiskey already poured.
Morrison may have seen him as trash once, but Rangers – true Rangers – are honorable, moral, loyal and Face is all of those.
This is one of those times, as Russ listens to the trauma surgeon talk while the boy in the bed behind him slumbers on. One of those times for sure: that boy is a twenty-year-old civilian, captured by the insurgents. He'd been burned by the Iraqi sun, starved, and beaten, and he'd been filmed for a video, gun to head; they'd written him off for dead (many, not all).
And Hannibal... Hannibal had gotten wind of where that kid was being held, woken up Russ in the middle of the night, and gotten his team geared. Two days of no contact, Russ had been on edge, waiting, and then the call had come.
Russ, we have him. Have the docs standing by – and tell them to not ask why Face looks like a smurf. Morrison thinks he'll never forget those words, for so many reasons.
Later, Hannibal explains the delay and why the in-and-out plan was less out than in. He's confident and sure, doesn't trip over his words, and Russ knows that this is why Hannibal's his oldest friend – he knows his strengths and his place and doesn't push the boundaries unless he knows the odds are in his favor. Hannibal's a good man and a good Ranger, and he's fucking good at what he does.
So like he said, sometimes he thinks the Rangers hit the jackpot with Hannibal and this is one of those times.