It is wrong to love your subordinate. This is a lesson hammered into him by years of military training. No fraternization. No sex. No rosy afternoons and alcohol fueled nights.
It is wrong to want to shield subordinates from the world. By shielding them he cripples them, makes them less than what they could become.
It is wrong to play favorites amongst his men. For obvious reasons.
It feels right to hold Face close, to kiss his lieutenant into silence, make love to him all night long.
It feels right, that surge of protectiveness, that overwhelming desire to keep the world at bay from the young man he knows is so fragile, even when he survives every hardship.
It feels right to have Face beside him always, his number one, even if some in their unit are of higher rank.
It feels right.
But it’s wrong, and military training and life will not let him forget that.
It is wrong…to love above your station. He’s known that all his life. The orphanage. The street. Now the military. But he couldn’t stop then, and he feels no obligation to stop now.
It is wrong to want to possess someone. But he’s never had anyone before, not like this, so he doesn’t stop himself. He knows that it’s unhealthy, but no one else will have him.
It’s wrong to do all this to John Hannibal Smith. The man is a legend, deserves so much better.
But it feels right.
It feels right to share a bed with the man, feels right to love, feels right to know that he can make Hannibal feel things no one else can.
It is selfish. It is wrong. There is a line that shouldn’t be crossed.
But he has never been one to follow the rules, or the warnings.
So this line, this barrier between right and wrong, becomes thin. Negligible. Inconsequential.
And he will keep on crossing it.