Motivation - H/F - Part 3

Within ten minutes, the jet ski turned and headed in. Hannibal was staring at Face, waiting for him to be close enough to be able to make out his expression and he couldn’t help the thin smile that broke out over his face as he saw how the kid was positively alight with joy at the experience. God, he was so childlike sometimes it was beautiful. But then Hannibal noticed Dougie, pressed up against the kid’s back, pretending to reach over and help with the controls, but Face didn’t need any help, he was a natural at all this; it was just an excuse for Dougie to be able to rut up against him like a damn dog. Hannibal’s anger fired up another notch.

 

“Hannibal!” Face’s voice jerked him out of his murderous thoughts and the kid waved frantically at him like a damn five year old as he brought the ski in to the small beach in front of the boat house. Dougie looked less than enthused to see him and that fact alone made the drive out here well worthwhile. He waited, stewing silently as they hauled the ski into the boat house and Hannibal had a moment to wonder how Dougie could afford all this, the lake house, the jet ski, the damn Vanquish, on the same salary Hannibal was getting before Face came bounding over to him like an overexcited colt.

 

“Oh, boss, did you see that? Man, that was the coolest thing I have ever done!” He was flushed pink with the wind whilst his skin and his hair were covered in a fine mist of water, tiny droplets standing out on his eyelashes like miniature diamonds. He was truly the most beautiful man Hannibal had ever seen, and the wave of hopeless want that crashed over him pushed the anger still bubbling inside him past the point of no return. “Did you see that three-sixty I did? It was awesome! I thought we were-”

 

“What the fuck were you thinking of coming out here like this without even telling me?”

 

The words hadn’t been planned, they were out of Hannibal’s mouth before he had even really known they were there and the effect on Face was instantaneous. He stepped back, his mouth frozen in mid sentence, and Hannibal was sure the kid couldn’t have looked more shocked if Hannibal had punched him.

 

“I...” all the joy ran out of his expression and Hannibal felt the guilty snakes coiling in his stomach, this wasn’t Face’s fault, he shouldn’t take it out on the poor kid, he should apologise, make it better, get back some of that happiness before it was too late.

 

But then Dougie appeared, “I think the boy is old enough to go out on his own, John, don't you? Or was it more like that you just don't want him hanging out with me?”

 

Face’s confused expression flitted between the two of them and Hannibal knew they couldn’t do this in front of him.

 

Hannibal ignored Dougie and looked straight at Face, “You just should have told me where you were. You have a concussion. How was I to know you weren’t unconscious in your room?” He was pleased with that argument, even though it was the first time it had even crossed his mind.

 

“I sent you a text...” Face offered, his expression still gutted and Hannibal bit back a moan. A text. Of course he did. Hannibal had had his phone on silent all afternoon, hadn’t even checked it. He was an idiot.

 

“So,” this was Dougie’s smug voice again, “if you didn’t get the text then how come you knew where we were? Happy memories pulling you in?”

 

Face frowned a little at that and Hannibal had to resist just punching Dougie’s smug face in, “C’mon, Face,” he growled instead, “Get in the car, we’re going back.”

 

Face turned to Dougie, his expression bleak and Hannibal wondered how in the hell he’d turned into the bad guy here. “Thanks, Dougie,” Face extended his hand, “that was really excellent. Honestly.”

 

Dougie shook his hand warmly, “Anytime, Temp, my pleasure,” Hannibal could have killed him for the casual use of that name alone, “But are you sure you want to go back with John? Remember I told you that you could drive the Vanquish on the way back...”

 

Hannibal could see the longing in the kid’s eyes. He knew he was a real car freak, not Station wagons or cheap little Japanese imports, no, fast, sleek, sexy little cars; just like the Aston, and he cursed Dougie again.

 

“No, it’s fine,” but the longing was in his voice too, “I’ll head back with the boss, thanks.”

 

Hannibal sighed as Dougie met his eyes, the challenge clear to see, “That’s okay. Another day then, when your boss thinks you can go out.”

 

Another day? Not fucking likely... “Go ahead, Face,” it was a struggle to make his voice sound natural, “You go back with Dougie and I’ll see you at the hotel. Dinner at seven?”

 

Face brightened instantly, “Of course, boss! Yeah! Thanks! You sure?”

 

“Sure,” Hannibal growled, his eyes on Dougie’s insolent expression the whole time. Just you dare, McArthur, just you fucking dare... And he turned back towards his car and the lonely drive back to the hotel.

 

____________________________

 

Hannibal had been back at the hotel for half an hour before Face pulled the Vanquish to a dramatic standstill in the hotel car park. He had tried not to spend all of that thirty minutes staring out of the window at the neat little rows of parked cars, but hadn’t been all that successful. He watched as Face and Dougie made their way across the lot, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Dougie’s hand resting possessively in the small of Face’s back.

 

As they disappeared into the foyer Hannibal sat on the bed and picked up his book, but found his eyes going over and over the same sentence without any of it sinking in. Eventually, he heard the elevator ping open and footsteps sounding along the corridor and stopping just outside of his room, Hannibal froze, listening carefully, but then the feet carried on and he heard a key card being inserted into the lock as Face let himself into his room.

 

At 6.55pm precisely, there was a soft knock at the bedroom door and Hannibal grabbed his wallet, phone and key card off the side before opening the door and greeting a tentatively smiling Face.

 

“Hey, kid,” he wondered where the usual million dollar grin was, “You mind if we eat out tonight? I’m getting kinda sick of this hotel already.”

 

Face shot him a quick sideways glance, “Sure...” he answered mildly, “Whatever you want, boss.”

 

They ended up at a little Mexican place just off the main street and sat outside, enjoying the last of the sunshine with their ice cold beers. Hannibal looked over at Face who was idly tugging at the label on his bottle, his features thoughtful and Hannibal felt a twinge of concern.

 

“Something on your mind?”

 

Face looked up, surprised, “No,” but at Hannibal’s raised eyebrows he sighed and went back to the demolition of his beer label, “Not really...” he amended instead.

 

Another few moments of silence drifted between them as Hannibal wondered if he really wanted to know what the kid was thinking about. In the end he decided to just bite the bullet, “C’mon, Face, spit it out.”

 

There was a long sigh from the other side of the table before Face eventually looked up and met Hannibal’s eye, “Dougie has asked me to go hydro-speeding with him tomorrow evening.”

 

Hannibal forced the flash of resentment down inside him and ensured his expression remained carefully neutral, “Hydro-speeding? That’s like white water rafting on a body board, right?” Face nodded. “So, what’s the problem? You don't fancy it?”

 

Ice blue eyes flashed up to meet Hannibal’s, “Yeah! I’d love to go; it’s supposed to be a real rush.”

 

Hannibal squeezed out a smile and hoped it didn’t look too false, “Well, I don't see a problem then.”

 

Face studied him carefully, “Dougie said...” and then he stopped, “Ah, forget it boss, it doesn’t matter.”

 

In a measured, controlled voice Hannibal prompted, “Dougie said what?”

 

A large piece of label came away in Face’s fingers and he set about ripping it up into tiny little scraps with a frown of concentration on his face before the whole problem came rushing out in one, almost garbled sentence, “Dougie said I shouldn’t tell you, that you would stop me from going, that I should make something up, lie to you, tell you I’m going out with some of the other LTs or something like that,” he looked up from under his lashes, pausing with the remains of the label in his fingers while he checked for Hannibal’s reaction.    

 

That wily old bastard, Hannibal thought, managing to force out a natural sounding laugh as he realised that Dougie would like nothing more than to drive a wedge of deceit and resentment between him and Face. “He’s winding you up, kid!” he told his lieutenant lightly, “Of course I wouldn’t stop you from going! If I wasn’t so attached to my knee caps I’d go myself!”

 

Face frowned, “Why would he wind me up?”

 

Hannibal met his gaze, “Because he’s Dougie and that’s what he does best.”

 

There was a minute’s pause. “I thought he was your friend,” Face was looking confused again, “But I get the impression that you don’t like him very much...”

 

“I’ve known him a very long time,” Hannibal sighed, “Sometimes the people you know the best are the ones who get on your nerves the most.”

 

This brought a brief half smile from Face before his expression clouded again, “Today, boss, at the lake house, he asked you if happy memories had-”

 

Face stopped as the waitress arrived, carrying a huge tray of nachos, tostadas, chicken wings, ribs, corn and dips and Hannibal made sure that he talked enough nonsense and wasted enough time so that when she was done, Face had forgotten what he had been trying to ask and the conversation could be dropped for the rest of the evening.

 

__________________________

 

Most of the next day was a Dougie-free zone, and Hannibal found himself noticeably more relaxed because of that fact. Face had to give a presentation to the brass in the afternoon taking on the role of a ‘mission leader’, and outlining the ‘plan of action’ for a fictional mission to his ‘team’ and so the day was spent holed up in Hannibal’s bedroom going over plan after plan, and presentation styles and possible questions and counter arguments until Hannibal was convinced the kid would do a damn fine job of the assignment.

 

With half an hour to go to presentation time, and Face starting to look a bit edgy and nervous, Hannibal ordered up coffee and donuts and they lounged on a bed each, idly watching VH1 while Hannibal tossed the odd mission related question out to him.

 

“So, if the RV is compromised, what then?”  

 

“We fall back on the secondary RV.”

 

“What if the prisoners have been moved?”

 

“We regroup at the perimeter fence and adjust the plan as necessary.”

 

A light shone in Hannibal’s eye, “What if you are killed?”

 

Face grinned across at him, “Then I won’t give a fuck what happens next.”

 

Hannibal laughed. “What if I’m killed?”

 

And Face’s smile wavered just a little and a thick silence filled to room. Hannibal frowned in confusion, wondering what on earth he had done to kill the jovial mood so effectively before Face swallowed nervously, “Boss...” But he was silenced by the sharp ring of the phone, someone had dropped out and Face’s assessment had been moved forward. Instantly Hannibal was on his feet, dragging his lieutenant to the door and drilling him with last minute instructions - and the whole weird moment was forgotten.

 

______________________

 

Hannibal sat in the back corner as Face outlined his ‘mission plan’ in the most unrealistic setting ever; four big bosses sitting behind a desk like they were an interview panel, and he wondered if any of these guys had ever even been to a mission briefing this side of the millennium. But the kid was incredible. Hannibal had intended taking notes, going over them with Face afterwards, picking up points for improvement and so on, but he never even wrote a word.

 

Face was just smooth as silk, never ruffled, even when they tried to pull him up about details of his plan. And it was all his plan, Hannibal had been very careful to let the kid craft it himself, had known that it would never stand up to close examination unless Face had been the one who had given it life in the first place. It probably wasn’t the most conventional plan the panel would see that day, but Hannibal would bet his last cigar that it was the most elegant. Face successfully argued his corner when pushed and provided clarification when it was needed. He had counter plans already worked out and could say exactly when they should be pulled out of the hat. And all the time he was calm, confident, focussed and totally believable. Hannibal knew at that moment he could have men following him to the gates of hell and he just felt so damn proud of the kid.

 

Just as it was all wrapping up, the generals giving their thanks and telling him when he could expect some feedback, Hannibal’s phone vibrated silently in his pocket and he frowned at the message. That would really take the edge of Face’s day...

 

__________________________

 

It had been a long, long, evening. Hannibal had resisted the temptation of inviting himself along to watch Face and Dougie hydro-speeding and instead had eaten alone in his room, one eye constantly on the watch for the Vanquish returning.

 

He’d done a bit of research before Face had set out. Seems that Dougie had bought the tickets from the hotel reception as soon he had arrived on Monday, intending to take Tosh with him. Tosh’s still bruised and swollen elbow had quickly put paid to that idea, and so Face had quickly been drafted in to save the day. Well, that was the story at any rate; although Hannibal wasn’t sure he believed it.

 

And then Dougie telling Face not to mention it to Hannibal, devious little shit. He’d crafted himself a win-win situation there, leaving Hannibal with no choice but to let Face run with the wolves or he’d end up looking like the bad guy again. Hannibal shook his head, wondering if there were no lengths Dougie wouldn’t go to here.

 

At least the river where the hydro-speeding took place was miles from that damn lake house. And they had to be back at the hotel for 20.00hrs as starting slots for tomorrow’s orienteering were being posted.

 

Not that that mattered much to Face now... Hannibal’s stomach twisted in regret. Face had been really, really looking forward to the orienteering and they’d had to pull out of the whole thing. Russ had texted to tell Hannibal he really needed to see him tomorrow, he was out of town again the next day, and whatever he wanted to discuss just couldn’t wait. Hannibal had hated the way the kid’s face had fallen when he told him the news, especially when he was on such a high after his fantastic presentation, but he’d smiled thinly and told Hannibal that it was fine; he understood that there was no choice and it really didn’t matter. It was obvious he was lying.

 

Hannibal looked at the clock. 21.10. Face and Dougie must be back by now, even if Face didn’t need to know a starting time, Dougie certainly would. He picked up his key card and headed for the elevator.

 

There were a few people standing around the notice board in the conference room, but Face and Dougie were not among them. Hannibal wandered over, mild curiosity getting the better of him and quickly scanned down the list of names.

 

He was three quarters of the way down when he froze, the pasta he’d eaten for dinner suddenly very heavy in his stomach as his brain tried to object to the words his eyes were insisting were written in front of him. 08.30 – Col. C. McArthur & Lt. T. Peck

 

Hannibal couldn’t take it in. How the fuck had that happened?

 

And just as he was about to go off and find someone, demand an explanation, there was a heavy hand on his shoulder and a voice in his ear whispering. “Well, how about that then, John? There he was, needing a CO and there I was, needing an LT, and would you just look at that? We’ve found each other...!”      

 

Hannibal whirled on the spot to stare into Dougie’s smirking face, “You manipulative bastard...” he hissed.

 

Dougie grinned wider, “Don’t get pissed John, just ‘cause I can give him what you can’t,” the suggestive leer was almost more than Hannibal could stand. “It makes sense. I was disappointed because my fuck-up LT is still injured, he was disappointed because...” the hand was back on Hannibal’s shoulder, “Well, you know why he was disappointed in you, don’t you, Johnnie?” Hannibal shook him off. “And now everyone is happy again!” Dougie turned to walk off, glancing over his shoulder as he went, “Well, almost...”

 

His laughter followed him out of the room, but Hannibal, frozen in fury, could do nothing more than glare after him.

 

_____________________________

 

Russ had an interesting proposal for Hannibal, very, very interesting. It would require a lot of thought and a lot of careful consideration, something that Hannibal found he was totally incapable of providing at the minute. Russ leant back in his chair and regarded Hannibal steadily as his old friend stared absently out of the window. Eventually he couldn’t stand it any longer and sighed, long and hard. “Okay, Hannibal, so, what gives?” Hannibal looked at Russ with mild surprise in his eyes, “I’ve just put a proposal to you that most other colonels would sell their testicles for, and you just smile politely and stare out of the goddamn window all afternoon!”

 

At this Hannibal frowned and rubbed his hands together slowly, “Shit, I’m sorry Russ, it’s great, you know I think the whole idea is just... great. I’m sorry, I just...” he shook his head, “I’m sorry.”

 

Russ leaned forward, “So, I’ll ask again – what gives?”

 

Hannibal opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but then he stopped and rubbed a hand through his hair.

 

The general frowned, “C’mon, Hannibal! What’s eating you? Is it the Future Leaders course? The kid not doing the stuff?” Russ frowned, “I warned you on that one, he’s young, wet behind the ears. I told you it was too soon...”

 

“No, not at all, he’s fine, doing great in fact. It’s just...” Hannibal shook his head and got to his feet, “Look Russ, please don't think I don’t appreciate you making this offer to me, because I do, I really, really do. And if you want a really top class alpha-unit, I know I can deliver you one, it’s just I’ve got a few things on my mind right now, and I really need to be getting back, you know it’s a two hour drive from here...” he shrugged apologetically.

 

Russ nodded, “Okay. I get it. No problem, Hannibal, you get back and see what shit that boy has landed himself in without you to keep him straight, and I’ll catch up with you next week. And by then I want some hard facts on how we are gonna make this alpha-unit work, okay?”

 

Hannibal clapped a hand on the general’s shoulder, “Will do. And thanks, Russ, for putting this my way. Really.”

 

Morrison nodded and leant back in his seat as Hannibal turned and quickly strode from his office.

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