Author: sss979

Title: Betrayal

Rating: PG-13 (language)

Summary: Hannibal feels betrayed.

I never asked for this.

I would've died, would've killed, would've blood-let my soul. I would've faded out of existence in the sweat-drenched misery of the God-forsaken jungle. I would've gone in silence, without so much as a questioning look. I would've told my men beautiful lies – the good of their people and country, the worth of their deaths. I would've sold myself into the hands of bloodthirsty demons if it had ever crossed my path to do so. I would've given all.

And I did.

I did everything. I killed. I died. I turned over my tags, my rank, my family, my future, ANDmy name. And I went "out there" – out to the blood-soaked jungle like an animal cast out into the dark alley. I went, knowing there was nothing in it for me. I became nothing, cut myself off from all I had ever known. I don't know why I did it. Some fucked up notion of national pride and allegiance? I watched men die in my arms. I watched morphine-weakened hands pull the triggers on their own guns. Watched them come and go, led to the slaughter one right after the other.

When I came into Vietnam, back from "out there" and into verifiable history, I came back changed. I knew it then; I know it now. It was no longer enough to kill a handful of enemy, here and there. I wanted to destroy them. There was no other point to being here. My world had turned its back on me long ago; the hell with it. I existed to kill. For that, I needed a team I could count on.

Meeting Lieutenant Peck had been like the light at the end of a dark tunnel. Then Ray Brenner. Then BA. Murdock… Life changed. The anger faded. A new reason, a new purpose emerged. Family.

By the time we got those damned orders for Hanoi, I'd forgotten. It seemed impossible that a commanding officer would betray his own men. I didn't even question him. Naive. Trusting. How quickly we forget the things we don't want to remember. My life, my service, my team meant nothing to them. Expendable and meaningless. In and of itself, that's no surprise. Every recon drop into Laos or Cambodia is sterile; they wouldn't even ask for our bodies back if we went down. But we knew that risk. We never knew the risk of Hanoi…

There's a part of me that's furious. Indignant. I would've given all. I DID give all. I've died a thousand times over in the past ten years, without thanks. I never cared; I don't do it for the gratitude – empty words and meaningless commendations. I did it for my team, and on a grander scale, for that fucked up image of my people.

I have no people. I'm alone – we're alone - betrayed, locked in a god-forsaken cell with my men on either side and a court martial on my record. Lied to, forsaken. I have a roof over my head, dry clothes, edible food, safety… But I might as well be right back in that goddamn jungle – wet and exposed and starving. At least there, I accomplished something. Always some pathetic motivation to make it through one more day. Here, I'm worth nothing. Here, there's only emptiness – the ultimate reward for a lifetime of servitude. I would've endured this willingly at the hands of my enemies. I never thought I would endure it at the hands of my own people.

"What are we going to do, Hannibal?" Peck's voice is solemn, and cold. So distant, so lifeless. He sounds like I feel. Lost, livid, alone… betrayed.

"I don't know," I answer quietly, eyes fading out of focus as I stare through the solid bars of the cage my own people have locked me in. "For right now, the only option we have is to play their game."

The growl from the cell on the other side is audible, angry. He feels it too. "We didn't do nothin' wrong, Hannibal! How they gonna keep us here when we didn't do nothin' wrong?"

I have no answer for him. I wish I did. The question fades into the silence, and lingers heavy in the air. It's several full minutes before the silence is interrupted.

"I'll tell you what, Hannibal…" I lean forward at the sound of Peck's voice, resting my forehead on the cool metal bars, eyes closed. "I sure as hell didn't ask for this."