FanFic100: 073. Light.
Title: Silver Fox
Fandom:The A-Team
Characters:Hannibal/Face
Prompt: 073. Light
Word Count: 273
Rating: G
Warnings: Off Screen Character death
Summary: Face remembers.
Author's Notes: I'd think that Face would be a lot like Hannibal when he grew older. My big damn table is here
'Grampa?'
'Yeah, kid?' Inwardly I smile. How I used to hate that term. Had it addressed
towards me, what feels like all my life. Somewhere along the line, I got used to it.
To Cindy it really applies at least, too-smart-8-year-old that she is.
'When did you hair turn white?'
She's holding up an old photograph. I see my beautiful Sara standing on the steps of
the church, beaming happily on my arm, me beaming at her.
Our wedding a little over 30 years ago. In the picture the sunlight reflects off our
hairs,
hers chestnut brown, mine still mostly blonde.
Reflecting on the question my grandaughter has just asked me, I wonder what I should
tell her.
Should I tell her it turned that way from worrying over Murdock's sanity, after we
got our pardons? From her mother's birth, when there was a chance of both Sara and
Janina dying? From taking care of BA after his mother died and it seemed he would not
stop grieving? From all our grief when Hannibal left us? Or from my own grief when my
beautiful Sara left me last year?
No, I can't tell her all that. And I wonder how Hannibal took the invariable sign of
ageing? But then his hair turned silver and the 'silver fox' image suited him well.
'The moment I first saw you, love, so I could be a proper Grampa', I tell her.
'Because who has heard of a Grampa without white hair?'
Cindy seems to sense that I feel uncomfortable with the topic and hugs me.
'Grampa', she assures me earnestly. 'Your hair isn't white, it's silver.'
Fandom:The A-Team
Characters:Hannibal/Face
Prompt: 073. Light
Word Count: 273
Rating: G
Warnings: Off Screen Character death
Summary: Face remembers.
Author's Notes: I'd think that Face would be a lot like Hannibal when he grew older. My big damn table is here
'Grampa?'
'Yeah, kid?' Inwardly I smile. How I used to hate that term. Had it addressed
towards me, what feels like all my life. Somewhere along the line, I got used to it.
To Cindy it really applies at least, too-smart-8-year-old that she is.
'When did you hair turn white?'
She's holding up an old photograph. I see my beautiful Sara standing on the steps of
the church, beaming happily on my arm, me beaming at her.
Our wedding a little over 30 years ago. In the picture the sunlight reflects off our
hairs,
hers chestnut brown, mine still mostly blonde.
Reflecting on the question my grandaughter has just asked me, I wonder what I should
tell her.
Should I tell her it turned that way from worrying over Murdock's sanity, after we
got our pardons? From her mother's birth, when there was a chance of both Sara and
Janina dying? From taking care of BA after his mother died and it seemed he would not
stop grieving? From all our grief when Hannibal left us? Or from my own grief when my
beautiful Sara left me last year?
No, I can't tell her all that. And I wonder how Hannibal took the invariable sign of
ageing? But then his hair turned silver and the 'silver fox' image suited him well.
'The moment I first saw you, love, so I could be a proper Grampa', I tell her.
'Because who has heard of a Grampa without white hair?'
Cindy seems to sense that I feel uncomfortable with the topic and hugs me.
'Grampa', she assures me earnestly. 'Your hair isn't white, it's silver.'