Work Text:
Face hated hospitals. They always smelled bad and the sheets were scratchy. Was it a conspiracy, he wondered, to make them as unwelcoming as possible? Maybe they were trying to convince the patients to leave as soon as they could walk out.
Or maybe that was the concussion talking.
Face redirected his attention to the paperclip hidden in his hand, and got to work on the handcuff attached to the other. It was his right hand, which made things slightly trickier but by no means impossible for The Faceman.
He was making pretty good progress, despite the way the lights and hospital intercom were conspiring to make his headache worse, when the vent on the wall opened up. A very familiar grey-haired head stuck out of it. “Hi, Face!” he said.
“Hannibal,” Face hissed. “There’s a guard right outside.”
“He’s taking a little snooze in his chair,” Hannibal said. “Pretty big dereliction of duty. Don’t eat the banana pudding, by the way.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Face said sarcastically. “Are you going to help?”
“You seem like you’ve got it.”
The handcuff fell away, but on principle Face directed a dour look at the vent as he laboriously climbed out of the bed. His clothes and weapons had all been taken pretty much immediately, but there was a spare pair of scrubs and he scrambled into them, glad to be out of the gown.
“We expected to see Decker here,” Hannibal said. He leaned forward to help Face shimmy into the ventilation shaft, which was surprisingly roomy.
“Me and Decker had a talk,” Face said. “You know what he told me? He said that my team had clearly betrayed me by leaving me behind in my hour of need.”
“You mean being surprised by a thug with knuckle-dusters and getting knocked out directly into Decker’s arms,” Hannibal said. There was an awkward moment of squirming and shuffling as Hannibal pulled Face inside and Face tried not to knock over any tray tables or instruments.
“Yeah, that,” Face said. “He told me I don’t owe any loyalty to a group like that, and you know what, I felt compelled to agree with him. He was making some good points. I told him exactly where the A-Team was staying— the group of traitors— at the Impala Motel.”
He finally got up into the vent, and Hannibal scooted up so that he could lead the way through the shafts.
“Face, we were staying at the Grand.”
“Aw, gee,” Face said. “Oh, man, I feel really bad now. I guess confusion is a little understandable on account of the concussion.”
Now Face couldn’t see Hannibal’s face, but he could hear the grin. “He believed that?”
“Well, I think it helped when I threw up on his shoes,” Face said.
“A brilliant tactic to get him to leave faster?”
Let’s go with that. “Yeah,” Face said.
“Decker let you out of the first handcuff too?” Hannibal called out behind him, still army-crawling towards some unknown destination.
“No, that was nurse O’Reilly,” Face said, a touch dreamily.
“There’s always a nurse,” Hannibal said.
“Nurse O’Reilly is going to night school to become a full-fledged doctor, did you know that? Any trained medical professional would have known that cuff was too tight on my left wrist. To not take it off would have been medical negligence.”
“Uh-huh. Redhead?”
“Blonde,” Face said.
“Here we are,” Hannibal said, sounding pleased with himself, stopping at a seemingly random ventilation cover.
“Decker’s got guys on all the exits,” Face said dubiously.
“Please,” Hannibal said. “Leaving via door is so gauche, don’t you think?”
Hannibal dropped down first then helped Face out of the vent, steadying him when he stumbled slightly. “All right, kid?” he asked.
“Just getting my sea-legs back,” Face said.
They’d come out into an apparently empty patient room, beds unoccupied and something braced up against the door handle to stop it from opening fully.
Outside the window, several stories up, Murdock beamed, apparently floating in mid-air.
Face balked. “If the plan is to have Murdock flap his arms until we reach the ground, I’d rather take my chances with the MPs.”
“Hiya, Facey!” Murdock called cheerfully, then slipped into a British accent. “Glad to see you have not expired in pursuit of our most recent case. We have the finest carriage awaiting you, sir.”
Hannibal was grinning again. Face could practically hear jazz music playing in his head. Face became very worried about the plan.
He went to the window and peered out.
Murdock, to his relief, was not floating but instead standing on what appeared to be a living-room couch, lashed up to a series of levers and pulleys that had obviously been cobbled together extremely recently.
“I am not getting on that thing,” Face said.
“It’ll go right down to the ground!” Murdock said. “And look, there’s room for three.”
“I know it’ll go down to the ground,” Face explained. “That’s what I’m worried about.”
Hannibal clapped him on the back. “Hop to it, Lieutenant,” he said. “Decker’s not going to be fooled by a false tip forever.”
“Oh, you’re the one who sent Decker away!” Murdock said cheerfully. “I thought maybe it was the space aliens calling him home.”
“Face gave into pressure and betrayed the team,” Hannibal said. “It was very sad.”
Face looked at the open window, then down at the ground. “Oh, I hate you,” he said, and carefully climbed out. Murdock helped him board, an experience that was not unlike getting inside a rowboat in midair, suspended by what appeared to be cable ties and hospital fire hoses.
“If I wasn’t dizzy enough…” Face complained, shutting his eyes as Hannibal got onto the couch and sat down next to him, feet dangling cheerfully. “I’m so glad you guys came to rescue me. I love being treated like furniture from a fifth-story college apartment.”
“You’re welcome,” Hannibal said, brightly as if he hadn’t noticed any sarcasm at all. “Murdock, push off, please.”
“Aye-aye,” Murdock said, sitting down as well and starting to belay some sort of rope pulley system that sent them going, slowly, towards the ground. “Hey, this is really fun! I’ve flown all sorts of things, but never a couch before.”
“Might be a world record,” Hannibal agreed.
“Where’s B.A.?” Face asked. He felt sure that while B.A. might have been involved in the construction of this invention, he would have had the sense to stay far away from it.
“Waiting with a ride,” Hannibal said.
Face gave him a suspicious look. The van was far too conspicuous to bring so close, and Hannibal wouldn’t look so much like the cat that got the cream if their getaway vehicle was a rental car.
“Meet any cute nurses?” Murdock asked, as they descended.
“I’m wounded you would ask that of me,” Face said.
They hit the ground at almost exactly the same time as the alarm started blaring— Face’s absence had been missed, apparently.
“Looks like the banana pudding’s worn off!” Murdock yelped gleefully. He clutched his hat to his head as they began to run across the hospital lawn, hearing shouts start up behind them. Face was still barefoot, and he noticed with some disgust that the sprinklers here had been run recently.
They didn’t seem to be running towards anything in particular, which was slightly worrying even as the world started to slide slightly to the left.
“Oh, whoops,” Hannibal said. “Turns out he really did have a concussion.”
Nearly immediately, both Murdock and Hannibal came up on either side to brace him as they ran.
“I hate you so much,” Face slurred.
“Thanks, Face,” Hannibal said.
They had been running towards a mostly empty parking lot, but now an ambulance screamed up to the curb, skidding slightly. Face tried instinctively to stop, but the other two kept on going. A head stuck out the window and B.A. glared at them.
“Get in, fools!” he said.
Hannibal threw the doors open and they obeyed B.A.’s suggestion.
B.A. was already taking off as Murdock got up and struggled to shut the bay doors. Hannibal hopped up onto a stretcher and lit his cigar, looking very pleased with himself. Face, glaring, sat on the bench seat and watched the hospital begin to fade away through the back windows. With the sirens on full blast, no one was giving them a second glance.
“All good?” B.A. called, looking at them in the rearview mirrors.
“It went perfectly,” Hannibal said smugly, teeth clamped around his cigar.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Face said.
Murdock, succeeded at his task, popped up and slid on a white doctor’s coat, presumably used for some other part of the escape plan. “Don’t worry, old chap!” he said. “Doctor Murdock is in.” He peered abruptly into Face’s eyes. “Did you know your pupils are different sizes?”
“Well, you know me, Doctor Murdock,” Face said. “I always go with the latest fashions. Mis-match is in.”
Murdock nodded sagely. “Here’s my prescription.” He handed Face a paper bag. “You can throw up into that if you need to.”
“Gee, thanks,” Face said dryly. “This has a face drawn on it.”
“Well, he was a puppet in a previous life,” Murdock said. “Then the big guy and I, uh, mutually decided it would be better if it was just a paper bag.”
Face saw the gold chains scribbled onto the paper in what appeared to be crayon.
“I see,” he said. “And this B.A. written on the bag stands for—”
“Bag Attitude, yes,” Murdock said.
From the front seat, B.A. growled. Murdock sat down next to Face quickly.
They passed a line of wailing military cars, speeding towards the hospital at full speed. Decker’s vehicle was at the very front.
“Seems like Decker figured it out,” Hannibal said. “Too little, too late, as usual.” He laughed to himself.
“Man, Face’s brains almost leaked out his ears and I almost got shot. We’re going to have to hightail it out of town if we don’t want to end up in prison.” B.A. complained. “Don’t be getting so smug about this.”
“Oh, but B.A.,” Hannibal said. “Our client has her store back. We got Face out of custody. And we got some egg on Decker’s face.” He grinned. “Don’t you just love it when—”
“Just don’t,” Face said.
Doctor Murdock, seeing that Face wasn’t going to be using it anytime soon, had reclaimed custody of Bag Attitude and had it puppeted over his hand. “Murdock, you’re so handsome,” it said in a deep voice. “You’re the best pilot I’ve ever met in my whole life. I’d be honored to fly with you any day.”
“Shut up!” B.A., the human one, said.
Hannibal laughed again, and puffed some cigar smoke.
Face smiled, just a little, and leaned his head back against the wall.
Well.
He did love it when a plan came together.