A Tale of Six Scars - Scar Number Six - Final Part

[indigo_angels]

There was a second’s stunned silence, before the guards erupted into cheers and back slapping while Mountain just leant on the end of his bo, fighting to get his breath back.

 

Hannibal rocked back onto his toes, knees still on the ground, waiting to see what would happen next and counting down the last two minutes in his head.

 

Suddenly, Mr. Ho’s voice rang above the commotion, “To the death!” he reminded Mountain, who nodded and disgustedly throwing the remains of the bo to one side, turned to the box the guard had brought and pulled something out.

 

Hannibal felt the nausea rise within him, “Rentsuru,” he whispered, recognising the Japanese version of the flail, a lethal looking spiked ball on a chain and watched in horror as Mountain put on an act for the guards, swinging the rentsusu round his head, under one arm, then the other, round his back, all the time, the shiny metal ball and spikes catching the sun like a horrific bauble.

 

“Don’t worry, American,” Hannibal looked round to see Mr. Ho watching him with cold amusement in his eyes, “Your man fought bravely, and the rentsuru will crack his skull with ease. He will feel no pain. He has earned an honourable death.”

 

Hannibal looked back as Mountain advanced on Face and he knew that Mr. Ho was right. One blow with that thing and Face was dead. Sixty seconds his internal clock told him, sixty seconds to salvation.    

 

Mountain was close enough to strike now and he swung the rentsuru high up in the air and then down again his eyes intent on his victim, looking forward to the sound of shattering bone.

 

Two things hit Mountain one straight after the other. The first was Hannibal as he hurled himself forward off his toes determined on nothing other than stopping that rentsuru from hitting Face, the second, about which he knew very little, was the high calibre bullet that struck right between his eyes as Murdock and BA made their move.

 

Hannibal fell in a heap on top of Face and tried to lift up and look at his lieutenant, make sure he had saved the kid from that crushing blow, but he couldn’t move. His hands were still tied behind his back and it felt like the whole of his side was on fire. He eventually managed to roll himself off and onto the ground as screams and gunfire filled the air around him, and he was somewhat surprised to the see the gaping hole in his side, torn open as he intercepted the rentsuru meant for Face’s skull and he frowned as he noticed the white ends of ribs visible in the sunlight.

 

Dragging his eyes away from the blood and gore in his side, he looked over at Face and was relieved to see that he had, indeed, saved the kid from certain death. He could hear BA somewhere behind him, barking instructions and Murdock’s voice as he herded prisoners to one side, and he was even sure he could hear the steady thrum of a chopper somewhere. The papers were safe, his unit was safe, and most importantly, Face was safe, so it was at this point that Hannibal felt it would be perfectly acceptable if he just checked out for a few minutes.

 

________________________________

 

In actual fact he checked out for three whole days. The rentsuru had given him a flail chest, pretty ironic since a flail was what it was, and they had kept him sedated for as long as they dared to give it chance to start to knit back together. Fortunately it was the bottom section of his ribs that was affected, which meant his lungs had escaped any damage. He woke up to find Murdock at his bedside and an oxygen mask on his face and his thoughts immediately went to the team members he couldn’t see. His arms felt heavy and unresponsive but he managed to reach up and drag the mask off his mouth so he could gasp, “Face?”

 

Murdock smiled at him, a thin smile that in normal circumstances Hannibal would never trust, but with the drugs in his system Murdock’s explanation of, “He’s fine. Bosco’s with him,” was enough to send him back to sleep.

 

It was another twelve hours before he awoke again, and by this time the oxygen mask had been replaced with a tube up his nose and Murdock by BA.

 

BA saw his eyes open and leaned over the bed, gently gripping his arm as he spoke, “Hey, Bossman, just take it easy there. You got some pretty busted ribs and a lot of stitches in your side. Try not to move around too much or breathe too deep, let the oxygen help you.”

 

Hannibal nodded, feeling the fire in his side still.

 

“You need more pain meds?” Hannibal shook his head and BA frowned, “Well, if you do, you jus’ need to press this little button over here, see?” Hannibal didn’t turn his head, he wasn’t sure if he could manage that without vomiting.

 

“We got the papers back to Morrison,” BA continued, “He’s real pleased, been by to see you a coupla times.”

 

Hannibal wasn’t really interested in the papers anymore. He remembered where they had been, what they had been doing and he also remembered Murdock’s thin smile when he’d asked about Face. His mouth was dry, he needed to speak, but he couldn’t, he swallowed hard and looked BA in the eyes, “Face?” he whispered, his voice an embarrassing croak.

 

BA looked away and Hannibal could feel his heart beat faster against his damaged chest but in a second the big guy was back with a beaker of water and a straw, “Jus’ take sips, now,” he murmured, holding the straw to Hannibal’s lips, “Nurse said you’ll throw if you have too much.”

 

“Face!” Hannibal gasped again as BA fed the straw into his mouth.

 

“I’ll tell you when you drink,” BA whispered and Hannibal swallowed, met the big guy eye to eye, saw BA’s swallow. “I won’t lie to you, boss,” the voice was quiet and just wrong for his corporal, “he’s in a bad way, but he’s fightin’ and Murdock’s with him now and the doctors are doin’ all they can.”

 

Hannibal frowned, what had happened? Face had been okay, he’d stopped that damn flail from cracking his head, what had gone wrong?

 

BA saw the confusion in his eyes. “His brain was bleedin’, took one too many whacks on the head the docs said, they needed to operate. He’s had a few fits, flat lined a coupla times...” BA trailed off as Hannibal’s eyes squeezed shut, “But he’s still with us boss, docs are keeping him asleep, givin’ him chance to recover while the swelling goes down.”

 

Hannibal pulled the straw from his lips, his voice stronger now, “I need to see him.”

 

A frown creased BA’s brow, “I knew you’d say that, already asked the nurses and they say no, not ‘til tomorrow, not ‘til you’re off the tubes.”

 

“Damnit BA! I-” and Hannibal was forced to break off as the pain in his ribs screamed at him.

 

“Sorry, boss,” BA whispered as he pressed the button for more pain meds, “Tomorrow. You need to rest. Me an’ crazy’ll look out for him for you.”

 

_________________________________

 

By ten am the next morning, Hannibal had bullied one of the nurses into wheeling him down to ICU to sit with Face. He’d been horrified at the state the kid was in. His face was swollen and shades of black, blue and vivid red, all his hair had been shaved and there was an ugly scar, thick with black blood on the back of his skull. There were wires and tubes everywhere, bleeping monitors and sacks of fluid. He was bare-chested, a blanket folded over his abdomen and the bruising from his face just seemed to run seamlessly down his chest and under the blankets. Hannibal was so glad that that big bastard was dead; it would have been tricky to get back into Sierra Leone just to kill him.

 

Murdock came back from his breakfast about twenty minutes after Hannibal arrived and carefully explained what all the tubes and liquids and monitors were doing and Hannibal had been impressed with his knowledge and his calmness and also noticed the obvious distress he felt for Face. When Hannibal found out that he and BA had been doing twelve hour shifts to sit with him, and also checking in on Hannibal, he had swallowed around the lump in his throat and ordered Murdock to go and get some sleep.

 

It was three pm when BA arrived to find Hannibal holding tightly onto Face’s hand, and just staring into his sleeping face. Hannibal felt his eyes from the doorway, but didn’t move, kept hold of the cold, lax fingers in his own and just nodded slightly at the new arrival, “BA.”

 

BA moved into the room, “Boss. How you doin’?”

 

“Better,” Hannibal answered, relaxing minutely as BA came into the room and sat on the chair opposite him.

 

“Nurses say you gotta go get some sleep.”

 

“I know,” Hannibal was staying awake through sheer will power, “I told them I would when you got here.”

 

BA nodded, hell, the boss must feel bad. He’d been expecting a battle with that one. He looked back at the clasped hands of his colonel and his lieutenant and couldn’t help the thoughtful frown that touched his brow.

 

Hannibal saw it too and felt himself bristle. “He’s been with me since he was eighteen, Corporal, probably even younger if my suspicions are correct. He’s got no parents, no family. His next of kin is a priest from some orphanage in LA. I’m all he’s got.”

 

BA met his CO’s eyes, “So, you tellin’ me you some kind of dad to him then? ‘Cos it sure as hell never looked like that to me; always looked like somethin’ more.”

 

Hannibal felt his heart kick up again, “And what if it was, Corporal? That a problem for you?” Maybe it was the pain or the worry or the fatigue or the drugs, but Hannibal didn’t feel like being careful just then.

 

The challenge in Hannibal’s voice was clear to BA but he let it all flow over him. He liked this guy, both of them, he liked the crazy fool, and he liked this gig he was on. Nothing was going to get in the way of this for him. “Wouldn’t bother me at all,” he answered truthfully, “Jus’ don’t like to see a man lyin’. Specially not to himself...”

 

Hannibal held his stare for a long minute before turning back to Face’s closed eyes.

 

_________________________________

 

Three days later Face woke up. He was in pain and disorientated and seemed to have some pretty big gaps in his memory for a while, but he was young and strong and fit, and as his hair came back, so did his health.

 

Hannibal had thought long and hard about BA’s comments, but hadn’t acted on them at all. Why would he? Sure, he loved Face, he realised that now, but would he honestly risk the only home and family the kid had ever had just to get some huge confession of his chest? No way. He needed Face to be close by and if he scared him off with unwelcome homosexual overtures, he’d never forgive himself.

 

Things may have slipped back into an unsatisfactory stalemate if fate hadn’t stepped in with a final card.

 

Face had been discharged, the scar on the back of his head was almost hidden by his regrowing hair and he’d gone outside in the late afternoon sun to play a little one on one volley ball with Murdock. It was Murdock’s terrified yelling that had brought Hannibal and BA out at a run to find Face on the floor, obviously having a fit.

 

The next half hour was a nightmare of blurred images and emotions. They’d rushed Face to the Med Unit where he had flat lined immediately on arrival. Hannibal had been frozen, immobile in the doorway and BA had had to drag both him and Murdock out of the way while the medics did their thing.

 

Eventually Face was stabilised. The doctors told them that it was just one of those things, a one off that might not mean anything, but to watch out and if it happened again, then it would need careful looking into. BA took a wiped out Murdock home and Hannibal settled himself at the kid’s bedside for a long over night vigil.

 

Hannibal himself was completely strung out. It was easy to talk to someone who couldn’t hear you, so he just did. He poured out all his feelings, all his thoughts and worries, everything he felt for the kid, willing him to just wake up, come back to the unit, come back to his him, and when Face eventually woke up the next morning, confused about why he was here and what the hell had happened to him, Hannibal had just smiled through his relief and gone off to catch up on his sleep.

 

Three weeks later it all kicked off. They were sat together watching a bad action movie while Murdock and BA were out watching baseball and Hannibal froze at the feel of Face’s hand on his arm. He turned his head from the TV and saw Face, still pale, bruised and tired looking, shaved hair still far too short, smiling tentatively at him, although the fear in his eyes was more than evident. “I heard you that night John,” he whispered, “and I feel it too...” it wasn’t much, but for Hannibal it had been more than he had ever dreamed of.

 

____________________________________

 

Hannibal rolls the now empty beer bottle over his hip as he thinks back to that horrendous mission. It was classed as a success, and on paper it was. They all got out, they got the documents, killed a good few bad guys, but it had been far from a good day.

 

He looks down at the kid now and tries not to think of how he’d so nearly lost him. There have been others before and after that day of course, but to lose him on the day he realised he loved him would have been the hardest of them all to bear.

 

Suddenly Hannibal frowns and irritably bats his book off the mattress and onto the floor. What has he been thinking here? That he would rather spend this precious time he has alone with Face reading? He can’t believe his own stupid priorities. Between bullets, and bad guys and military jails, any day could be their last one together, so what the hell was he wasting precious moments like this one for?

 

He reaches out with a warm hand and runs it down the kid’s back, pausing to cup that beautiful firm ass. Face stirs in his sleep and Hannibal smiles, “Wake up, kid,” he whispers into an upturned ear, “it’s time I was opening you up again...”

 

Face is already smiling as he opens his eyes and Hannibal pulls the warm, pliant body on top of him, feeling him wake up, feeling him grow hard just as he holds him tightly.

 

“Hmmm?” Face is still just that tiny bit asleep, “You finished your book?” he almost-slurs.

 

“No,” Hannibal whispers in his ear as both hands rhythmically squeeze his ass, “Found something much better on offer...”

 

Face chuckles, a warm healthy sound that banishes thoughts of the hot Sierra Leone sun and cold clinical hospital corridors out of the furthest corners of his mind, “Oh, I’m always on offer for you, boss,” he whispers back, now grinding himself down on Hannibal’s groin and making the older man moan for him, “and today’s special is me, folding you up and pinning you down on this bed while I fuck you, deep and slow until you are writhing all around my cock. What do you think, colonel? You up for that?”

 

Hannibal needs just a second before he can even answer. Damn that kid for pressing almost all his hot buttons in one fucking sentence. He knows that sometimes he needs to just be taken rather than be in charge, knows he loves Face’s ‘hot voice’ right in his ear whispering his dirty, beautiful plans, knows that the use of his rank almost makes him come on the spot, knows he loves Face filling him so deep that he won’t ever have to worry about the kid again. Even when he has his minute to think about it, the best answer he can come up with, is, “Damn, yes...” and he feels the cheeky whelp smile against his neck.

 

Still gloriously naked from their last go, Face wastes no time in stripping Hannibal of his shorts, making sure he palms the lube before throwing the clothes over his shoulder where they land in the pool.

 

“Kid...” Hannibal growls watching his shorts float serenely across the flat surface of the water.

 

“Don’t worry about it boss,” Face’s breathless voice belies his calm exterior, “You won’t be needing them for the rest of the day.”

 

Hannibal lies back and closes his eyes as Face’s lubed finger starts circling his opening, suddenly finding it hard to care about his shorts, “I love you,” he whispers and feels Face jerk in response, knowing that hit the kid right in the heart. It’s not like he never says it, because he does, but usually as he is buried deep inside his boy, not just like that in the cold light of day. He always worries that Face thinks it’s just a heat of the moment thing so he opens his eyes to see those blue eyes looking down at him, unusually bright, job briefly forgotten, and he grabs the boy’s hand, pulling it up to his chest while he looks into those so expressive eyes. “I love you,” he whispers again, “You know that, right?”

 

Face nods and Hannibal smiles. Speechless. That’s a good one.

 

Then he pushes the hand back down between his legs, making sure it brushes down the length of his hard cock as it goes, “Now get back to work, lieutenant, I believe you said something about fucking me?”

 

Hannibal smiles as he sees Face’s eyes dilate above him, oh, two can play at that game, kid, he thinks smugly to himself.

 

Within three minutes, however, the smug smile is gone, replaced by breathless moans as Face slowly opens him up with strong fingers. Hannibal tries to keep his eyes open as he loves to see Face’s expressions as he watches his fingers slide in and out of his boss, he loves the look of wonder and concentration that is on the kid’s face. Fucking beautiful.

 

But then the fingers are gone and Face is rolling him back, legs together, toes touching the mattress behind his own head. Hannibal can’t see anymore, but he can feel as Face positions himself just so, then pushes in, slow, but firm and strong, no pauses, no time to let the boss adjust, just sliding down and down until Hannibal can feel his boy’s balls pushed right up against his ass.

 

Hannibal loves this position, loves the complete lack of control he has, loves the way his own cock is trapped hard between his chest and thighs, loves the feeling of Face’s weight pressing down on him, pushing him right out of the world, and then Face begins to move.

 

Slowly, he pulls out and that delicious weight is all gone, but in one smooth thrust it’s back again and Hannibal’s air rushes from his chest in a moan. The noise inspires Face and he does it again, just as deep and heavy, just as slow and Hannibal feels his balls briefly tighten. It’s always like this for him in this position, and the second that Face picks up the pace he will come almost immediately. Face knows that as well as Hannibal does so he keeps everything slow and deep, the muscles in his thighs burning from the effort and the position.

 

Hannibal tries to move, tries to get up, or push Face away or stop that agonisingly beautiful slow thrust as it rips into him again, but he can’t, he’s trapped, pinned by the weight and the kid’s thrusts and that thought flares right through his cock. It wasn’t like he even wants to get away, wants any of this to stop, but somehow, trying to resist, finding he can’t, makes it even more incredible.

 

“You trying to get away from me there, boss?” Face’s tone is light but his words are breathless; he knows how this game goes just as well as Hannibal. “Well, you know you’re not going anyway, I’m gonna hold you here and make you come. You got that? I’m in charge here, and you’re going nowhere...”

 

Hannibal moans and tries to push up against him, but Face just leans in further almost bending him in half, “No way,” he whispers and Hannibal is pleased that he sounds so out of breath, “You just got to lie back and take it.”

 

So Hannibal does, lets the kid set the pace and the depth and the rhythm until he is thrumming with the desire to explode. Face slides long and slow over his prostrate for about the hundredth time and this time it makes Hannibal shudder, a low moan coming right from the depths of his chest.

 

“Tell me what you want,” Face’s strained voice sounds above him and Hannibal forces his thighs to relax so that Face’s weight traps his cock even tighter between his folded body. “You want it fast? You gotta ask me.”

 

“Please,” Hannibal whispers, the fact that he is almost begging lights his nerve ends on fire.

 

“What John?” the boss can’t help but smile as Face sounds almost as desperate as he is.

 

“Now,” Hannibal gasps, his restricted breathing only adding to his high, “Now, kid, fuck me fast, now...”

 

G

And now it’s Face’s turn to moan as he lifts his weight off his boss and slow and deep instantly becomes fast and frantic. Hannibal closes his eyes and holds his breath as he feels everything tighten and clench within him. Face is gasping with every thrust above him and he can feel the sun on his ass and his balls suddenly tighten and then he is coming, feeling his trapped cock spasm and jerk against his skin, covering himself with his seed while Face slams into him at a frenzied pace. There’s no rhythm now, just a desperate race for release; the three orgasms he’s already had today making this one just a little harder to find.

 

But now it’s there, and Face moans deep and long as it rips out of him, taking every last bit of strength with it as it goes. He collapses down onto the mattress, ensuring, even in his blissed out state that he doesn’t land on Hannibal, and even helps the older man unroll, wondering how many more years they are both going to be supple enough for that position to be an option.

 

The smell of semen hits him strongly as he finds his position snuggled against Hannibal’s side as their trembling limbs slowly start to recover, and neither of them speaks for a long time.

 

It’s Face that comes back to himself first, and hitches up onto an elbow, looking down at the love of his life as Hannibal’s eyes flutter open to return the stare. Hannibal smiles tiredly at him, hoping the kid doesn’t want to go again just yet, and runs a hand up through that beautiful wavy hair, knowing the scar that is hiding just below his finger tips. “You are so beautiful you know?” he whispers, more thinking aloud than anything else.

 

Face smiles back at him but his smile is a little tense and a little flat and Hannibal’s hand stills, concern nipping at the edges of his warm afterglow.

 

“Boss,” Face whispers and Hannibal lets his hand slip round to rest against one beautiful cheek bone, wondering why the kid looks so damn, scared. Face tries again, “I mean, John,” he clears his throat and the blush is clear for Hannibal to see, “John...... I love you. I really do...”

 

Hannibal swallows hard at Face’s scratchy admission and feels his eyes tear up. The kid’s never said it to him before. Never. Not once. It’s not that Hannibal ever doubted him; Face had long ago confirmed the suspicions that Hannibal had about his trust issues and his emotional stability. So he’d long ago reconciled himself to the fact that he would never hear the kid say those words to him, would have to look for them in other places instead. So he did, and it wasn’t hard, the way Face felt about him was obvious every time the kid ever looked at him. But now...    

 

He uses the hand on Face’s cheek to bring him in, foreheads touching, before murmuring, “Oh, god,” embarrassed at the catch in his own voice, “I know you do.... I mean...... I do as well....... love you, I mean,” he hears Face’s little laugh and gives up, “Oh, just come here...” and pulls him in for a slow, soft kiss, before letting him settle down on his chest so he can hear how his words have made his heart thump like crazy under his ribs.

 

As they both start to drift off into a pleasant afternoon doze, Hannibal’s fingers card through the hair on the back of Face’s head, trying, without success to find the scar that he knows is there. He smiles to himself as he finally slips into sleep; thinking that maybe physical scars aren’t the only ones that can disappear with time.