A-Team - Hide'n'Seek CH4

Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: A 'Random Idea' that crossed my mind, something of a Heroes crossover. Comments and feedback are always appreciated.

Hide and Seek - Chapter Four
Downtown Los Angeles, CA

The address given by Officer Parkman belonged to a homeless shelter in the downtown L.A. area. They left Face's Venice Beach condo the afternoon following Hannibal's fortunate meeting with the helpful officer. The shelter was housed in a large building that had spent its previous life as a block of office rentals. It flanked by a seedy looking residential hotel and an abandoned bodega that had been boarded up. A few transients lingered on the sidewalk outside the bodega with their sparse belongings crammed into trash bags and shopping carts.

The van cruised slowly down the Spring Street with B.A. at the wheel. In the passenger seat Hannibal inspected the street while Murdock and Face sat in the back. At the end of the block B.A. turned the corner, glancing at the colonel for instruction. Hannibal gestured and he pulled the van to the curb.

"No, I think it's better if I go alone," Hannibal said as, in the back, Face and Murdock began to move for the door.

"Good idea Colonel," Murdock said nodding in agreement with himself.

"Are you sure?" Face asked.

"Let's not scare her any more than necessary," Hannibal said as he stepped onto the street. He leaned back inside. "Call if you see anything suspicious."

Hannibal approached the entrance to the shelter on foot and alone. Before turning the corner he took a moment to muss his hair and untucked his shirt. It wasn't much, but when Hannibal pushed open the shelter door with slumped shoulders and a long face it was enough.

The entrance was dimly lit by a single overhead florescent bulb. To the right it opened into a large cafeteria, the space packed with empty tables and chairs. Behind the long lunch counter came the muted sound of rattling pots and pans. Unseen people were chatting in the kitchen, their voices blending into the backdrop. To the left were a set of elevator doors with out of order signs posted on them. Directly ahead, blocking a long hallway was a small desk at which sat a bored looking guard. Hannibal approached it hesitantly.

"Yes?" the guard asked looking up from his magazine. Hannibal swallowed hard, nervously wringing his hands.

"I lost my job some time ago," Hannibal said softly. The guard nodded and pulled a clipboard from the top drawer of the desk. He rummaged in the clutter for a pen then handed it, and the clipboard, to Hannibal who took it with a questioning look.

"Fill out the form, and one of our councilors will help match you to the services you need," the guard explained.

Hannibal hesitated. Clutching the clipboard he leaned forward and dropped his voice into a rough whisper. "I was, uh, hoping I could see a doctor. Or a nurse. I've had this – "

"Yeah, I don't need to know," the guard said quickly, holding up a hand to stop Hannibal. "We have a nurse. You can speak to her. The line is over there. Fill out the form while you wait okay? Bring me back the pen too."

Hannibal muttered a thanks to the man then walked around the desk and down the hall. Ahead a row of plastic chairs were lined up to the side of a door. The sign hanging on the wall beside the closed door said simply 'nurse' in faded white letters. There were a few other people already seated in the hallway. No one looked at him as he approached. He considered knocking on the door but could hear muffled voices coming from within and took a seat instead.

There was no clock but the hallway did bear a few motivational posters with generic pictures of mountains and oceans. Hannibal turned his wrist up, checking the time on his watch. Impatiently he sucked in a deep breath then exhaled. Beside him a woman wearing several layers of clothing started rocking in her seat. Hannibal looked at his watch again, disappointed the minute hand remained stubbornly where it had been a moment ago.

Exasperation was sinking its claws into Hannibal. The time passed slowly sitting in the hallway. Hannibal hadn't doubted Officer Parkman's tip, but until he got to see who was on the other side of that door doubt would gnaw at him.

A woman passed by, keeping close to the far wall with her head down. She approached the guard and Hannibal watched them both disappear into the cafeteria. With the security desk now vacant he rose slowly from the chair leaving the clipboard and pen behind. The others were finally paying attention to Hannibal as he paced a few steps up and down the hallway to end up in front of the door. He stood before it, hand ready to knock and wondered if he shouldn't just walk in. Before he could make that decision the door opened and an old man emerged, a toothless smile on his deeply lined face. Hannibal stepped aside to let him pass. Over one shoulder the man carried a beaten canvas bag from which dangled a number of a dirty, threadbare stuffed bears.

"Next," a woman called from within the office. Dodging the old man Hannibal smiled apologetically at the astonished faces of the three sitting in the plastic chairs. Closing the door behind him, Hannibal slipped into the room. A small table was wedged into one corner along with a folding chair. Along the far wall was an old physicians table with a number of duct tape patches on the padded vinyl surface. But Hannibal was focused on the young woman with her back to him.

"Take a seat please," said the blonde standing at the sink washing her hands. Hannibal did as told, perching at the edge of the table without taking his eyes from the woman. She dried her hands on a paper towel then dropped it into the waste basket by the desk.

"Good afternoon, I'm Alice" she asked looking at Hannibal finally. He smiled. It was Rachael Strathmore, though the long chestnut colored hair he expected from the photograph was gone. Her hair was shoulder length and a pale shade of blonde. It didn't exactly suit her Hannibal thought. And though Rachael was smiling back at him, there were dark circles under her green eyes.

She was pulling on a pair of gloves when she asked him, "Are you a new patient?"  

"I suppose so," Hannibal said, enjoying the moment. All the frustration and worry of the last several days evaporated. They had finally found the FBI's witness. From here on out, the team's job would be primarily babysitting.

Rachael pulled the stethoscope from around her neck, fitted it into her ears and reached for his wrist. Hannibal gave it willingly and she gently turned back the cuff of his jacket.  

"I'm Hannibal Smith," he said as she began taking his pulse. With her fingers gently pressed against his skin her eyes were on her watch. He waited for her to speak but her attention was firmly fixed on her task. "And I'm very happy to meet you. Miss Strathmore."

Her head snapped up, the color draining quickly from her face, and looked at him with naked terror.

"Don't be afraid, I'm here as your friend," Hannibal said quickly. She released his wrist and he took her hands into his own. Almost imperceptibly she shook her head. "Agent Martinez hired me and my men to take you into protective custody until he can locate the mole in his department."

"Protective custody?" Rachael whispered pulling the stethoscope off. The terror faded but she still looked frightened to Hannibal. "Another safe house?"

"Yes, you'll be going to a safe house," Hannibal said. He stood up, letting go of Rachael's hands. "My men are waiting around the corner, I suggest we go now."

Mutely Rachael nodded and Hannibal opened the door leading her into the hallway. The three in the plastic chairs looked on curiously as the pair walked away. She walked nervously with her arms wrapped around her waist, moving quickly to keep up with Hannibal's long strides. The guard was still away from the desk and Hannibal glanced into the cafeteria as they passed. The man was talking with the woman Hannibal had seen in the hallway. When they laughed together and their attention was distracted Hannibal put a hand on Rachael's lower back, ushering her swiftly to the door.

On the street Rachael blinked against the bright day and tugged at Hannibal's sleeve.

"Um, I'd really like to get my stuff," Rachael said pointing at the hotel next door. "Just my clothes and a few things. Please."

"Of course," Hannibal said and let her lead the way into the lobby of the hotel. His initial impression of the establishment had been correct. It was tidy but everything seemed to sag with age. The lobby was surprisingly full of people, mostly seniors, seated on a variety of chairs and sofas. They talked amongst themselves but watched as Hannibal and Rachael waited at the elevator.

"It's slow, sorry," Rachael said offering him an apologetic smile.

"No problem," Hannibal said, keeping his eyes on the front doors. Rachael watched him for a moment.

"So, uh – how many men are with you?" she asked. The elevator doors jerked opened. Hannibal followed her into the car, his nose wrinkling against the musty air. She pressed the button for the fifth floor.

"Three others," Hannibal said. The car began its slow, rattling ascent. He looked into her young, frightened face. "You are in very good hands Miss Strathmore. I would – and have – trusted my life to these men on countless occasions."

"Oh," Rachael said, pulling a key from the pocket of her jeans while Hannibal sent a quick text to Face. The doors opened on the fifth floor and Hannibal put a hand out, stopping Rachael. She looked at him peculiarly. He poked his head out first and looked up and down the hall. It was empty, a stretch of crumbling blue plaster walls and threadbare brown carpet. He could hear the sound of a radio playing, muffled by the walls, coming from the end of the hall.

Satisfied, Hannibal stepped aside and let Rachael out. He followed her down the hall and waited as she fitted the key into the lock and opened the door. The small room contained a narrow bed, a television and table with a hotplate. Rachael stood next to the bed looking uncertain.

"I need to use the bathroom," Rachael said looking at the floor. Hannibal nodded and she edged her way to the bathroom, closing the door. The lock clicked into place. Alone, Hannibal looked around the room. It was grim, even if he had known worse. This was the kind of place where people without options clung to what they had. He was pulling his phone from his pocket when the small trashcan next to the television caught his attention.

The sleeve of a shirt was dangling over the rim, but it wasn't the shirt that caught his attention. Slowly Hannibal bent, his hand closing around the cotton-blend shirt and pulling it out of the trash. He dropped the phone back into his pocket to hold the shirt in both hands. It was stained red and Hannibal had seen enough to blood to know when we he was looking it. The blood was dried to the color of rust and he fingered the abstract pattern it made on the cotton.

"Miss Strathmore?" Hannibal called. He looked at the bathroom door, awaiting a response. None came. Still holding the shirt he approached the door and knocked lightly. Rachael hadn't appeared injured but suddenly Hannibal felt that something was out of place.

He knocked harder then tried the knob. "Miss Strathmore!"

Setting his jaw Hannibal threw his shoulder against the door. The cheap wood splintered and popped out of the frame, swinging inward on its hinges. Hannibal stepped into the bathroom, holding a hand out to catch the door on its rebound.

The bathroom was empty.

The sound of the radio was louder now. It was coming from the door directly ahead of him. He swore for not thinking about it earlier, but the bathroom was a shared space between two rooms. Each room had its own door into the bathroom that could be locked from both sides. With the shirt clenched in his fist Hannibal crossed the bathroom and pounded on the other door.

"Miss Strathmore!" he shouted to be heard over the radio playing in the other room. Without waiting for an answer Hannibal grabbed the knob and twisted. It was locked. He stepped back, raised his foot and drove the heel of his boot into the wood. As the wood gave there was a scream from the other side. Hannibal threw the shirt into the sink and pulled the door open.

"GET OUT!"

Hannibal looked quickly around the room, seeing no sign of Rachael. There was an old woman wearing a brocade house coat despite the heat, cowering in the corner of the room. She was clutching a dented kettle in her hands, and though they were shaking she was looking at Hannibal with defiance.

"Where is she?" Hannibal barked. He reached out to the radio on top of the television and turned it off.

"Gone!" the old woman squeaked triumphantly. "Leave her alone! Imma call the police!"

"Which way?" Hannibal asked taking a few steps to the window and looking out. They were on the fifth floor with no way to safety from here.

"I won't tell! You're a bad man, beating on your wife like that, just let her go.  Imma call the police!" she said with her head retreating into the folds of papery thin skin like a threatened turtle. Hannibal stared blankly at her, working out what he had just heard. Shaking his head he turned and strode out of the room taking his phone out again. He dialed Face and put the phone to his ear, moving past the elevator and pushing open the door to the fire exit.

Face picked up at the first ring, "Boss, we've got a problem. A couple of men with bad suits just walked into the shelter."

"We've got two problems then, Rachael gave me the slip. Send B.A. and Murdock around back. Meet me in the lobby," Hannibal said then pressed the end call button. He hurried down the stairwell, taking two steps at a time. Now it was a race.