Motivation - H/F - Part 7

Five minutes later it was all over, it had been ugly and brutal and neither fighter felt much like celebrating, but it had been decided. Face was on his knees on the mats, starring at the red drips that fell from his nose and splashed into starbursts onto the blue vinyl when he felt hands on his shoulders gently pulling him up. His heart soared as he looked up hopefully, but then crashed again as his blurred vision took in Dougie.

 

He was suddenly spent, exhausted beyond belief and wondering if any of it had even been worth it.

 

“Come on, son,” Dougie’s voice was soothing, kind, “You look beat. Let’s get you sorted out,” and Face let himself be lifted to his feet and led away, out of the clamour of the conference room and into the soothing quiet of the corridors.

 

He only realised he was in Dougie’s room after the colonel had cleaned him up, wiping away all the blood with a damp flannel, wringing it out until the water in the fruit bowl he was using was a deep, dark red.

 

“You should be proud of yourself...” Dougie’s voice cut into his thoughts and he looked up, pleased that his vision had settled once more. He didn’t feel proud of himself. “You fought well.”

 

Face looked away again. He head was thumping, his ribs and stomach were cramping up and every time he twisted, his back screamed bloody murder at him; he just wanted to hide under his duvet and sleep for a month. He took a deep breath and rose shakily to his feet, “Dougie, seriously, thanks for this, I know you are trying to make me feel better, but I just want to go to bed.” He took a step towards the door.

 

“I can get you transferred out of his unit.”

 

Face stopped and turned back, his forehead creased in confusion. “What?”

 

Dougie stepped towards him, “Hannibal. I saw him walk out on you like that, it was wrong of him. He obviously doesn’t understand how important this is to you.” Face blinked at him in the glare from the main light and Dougie reached out, flicking it off, bathing the room in the subtle light from the bedside lamp. “I understand you,” his voice had dropped a level now and he took another step in, into touching distance, “I understand everything you need,” and his hand rested gently on Face’s bare arm.

 

Face’s blue eyes flicked down to the hand on his arm, then back to Dougie’s face, “I’ve never even considered leaving Hannibal,” he responded levelly.

 

“Oh, I know you haven’t,” Dougie’s hand was rubbing now, gently up and down Face’s bicep, the lingering oil making his touch glide, “You are loyal, that’s one of the things I value about you. But loyalty needs to work both ways, and after tonight who would blame you?”

 

The frown was back and Face lifted his hand to rub tiredly at his aching temple, “He was just doing what he thought was right.”

 

“I know,” Dougie took another step forwards, right into Face’s personal bubble, “But he’s not perfect. His ‘right’ will not always be right for you.” Dougie studied Face’s confusion and dropped the tone of his voice another notch, “Did he tell you we used to be lovers?” Face’s eyes shot up, the shock clearly noticeable. “No? I wonder why not? I suppose that kind of trust takes a while to grow...” Dougie smirked as Face dropped his eyes to the carpet. “John Smith is a complex individual, he’s not at all easy to live with, or work with,” he let out a little laugh, “And believe me, Face, I know him more intimately than you ever will.”

 

Face looked up again, the bleakness in his eyes almost swallowing him.

 

Dougie leaned in and Face took a step back, his shoulders connecting with the wall with a dull thud. Dougie followed him in, “Let me help you,” he whispered, “I can free you from him, you can come to me,” Dougie’s other hand slid up to Face’s left bicep, pushing him firmly but still gently against the wall. “We can be a team, Face, you and I, and I’d back you all the way, trust you to know what’s right for you.”

 

He closed the gap between them, holding Face’s eyes as he leaned in and pressed their lips together, deepening the pressure just slightly, flicking the tip of his tongue out to touch and taste before pulling back and watching Face carefully. The lieutenant didn’t move, he was still pressed up against the wall, his eyes wide and staring and Dougie let his hand drop down to the waist band of his shorts, pulling slightly, easing them down.

 

“Dougie,” Face’s fingers flew to his waist band, tugging against Dougie’s insistent downwards pressure.

 

“Shhh,” Dougie kept pulling, but dropped his mouth to Face’s neck, tasting the sweat and the oil, speaking in a charged whisper in between frantic nips of his teeth, “Don’t worry about this, I’ve got you, I know what you need,”

 

“Dougie!” Face was more insistent now, fingers scrabbling for purchase as he felt his shorts slip over his hip bone, his right hand trying to push at the colonel’s shoulder.

 

Suddenly Dougie moved, his hips slamming Face against the wall, one hand pinning his arm, the other yanking his shorts down hard, getting them almost off his hips altogether, his mouth crushing into Face’s lips, tongue pushing hard for entry.

 

Face turned his mouth away and pushed back, his exhausted muscles screaming with the effort, “No!” he muttered, torn between wanting to yell and awareness of how this would look if anyone found them, “Dougie, I’m not-”

 

“Don’t say it!” Dougie struggled to find Face’s mouth again, “Don’t say you are not into men, lieutenant, because that doesn’t matter, I swear, one night with me and you won’t ever want to go back...”

 

Dougie latched onto Face’s collar bone, leaning back a bit to bend his neck and Face took his chance, leaving his shorts and reaching up with both hands to jam up against Dougie’s chest and shove hard. It worked, Dougie stepped back, almost stumbled and stood, breathing heavily and staring at Face as Face yanked his shorts back up and leaned up off the wall, “I’m not into, you!” he spat, jabbing his finger in Dougie’s direction.

 

Cold narrowed eyes looked back at him, “No? Well no matter, I can still give you an order.”

 

“An order?” Face laughed, “You have no jurisdiction over me!”

 

“Face, c’mon, son,” Dougie held is hands out, palms up, “There is no need for this, it’s been obvious what you’ve wanted all week, you’ve been playing up to me, flirting, taunting me, waiting for me to snap!”

 

Face shook his head, “No. No way. I’m sorry if that’s what you think, Dougie, but I haven’t, I swear I haven’t.”

 

“You have.” That icy cold look was back, “And what was it all about then lieutenant? Pretty little lies, trying to see what you could get out of me?”

 

“No.”

 

“Well, I’m afraid your game has backfired. You can’t expect to cock-tease me all week and get away with it...”

 

Dougie took a step in again and Face held his hands up, trying to make the colonel keep his distance, “Dougie, don't do this, this is crazy!”

 

But Dougie wasn’t listening, “Strip lieutenant, and get down on that bed,” his voice was a menacing whisper.

 

Face pushed off from the wall, “No...” and his own hard eyes bored into Dougie’s.

 

Time seemed to stand still as they stared at each other separated by a metre of carpet, and then Dougie smiled. He walked the three paces to the door and flicked the dead lock, the heavy click stretching Face’s nerves tightly and turned back into the room, his eyes hooded, his arousal obvious in his trousers, “Well, it’s a shame you feel like that, lieutenant,” his smile was chilling, “Because that means this is going to get very messy...”

___________________________

 

Hannibal stared unseeing at CNN as he swirled his scotch round and round his glass. He should be turning in for the night, it was almost two a.m., but he was still far too wound up. As much as he didn’t want to, he just could not stop thinking about Face wondering how the fight had finished up, wondering if he was hurt. He’d not heard his lieutenant come back to his room and was worried that he had needed medical attention, he shouldn’t have left him, shouldn’t have walked out like that, the whole thing was just crazy.

 

He’d already packed all his things up. First thing tomorrow they were both getting out of here; coming to this thing had been a mistake. Face wouldn’t want to leave, he knew that, but he would damn well order the kid if he had to, should have ordered him out of that fight, still couldn’t quite believe that he had let the kid talk him round like that. They needed to get back to the unit, back with the team, and set about trying to repair what was left of their good working relationship. Hannibal still wasn’t exactly sure what had gone wrong this week, how Dougie had managed to have such a negative impact on him and Face, but one thing was for sure, they needed to get out and they needed to never see Charlie McArthur ever again.

 

Just as Hannibal was considering turning off the TV and trying again to get some sleep, he heard the elevator at the end of the corridor ping and footsteps on the thick carpet heading his way. Hannibal realised he was holding his breath and listened intently, waiting to see where the footsteps would stop. He heard them approach Face’s room and pass by, before stopping right outside, he froze, and suddenly there was a sharp rap.

 

Hannibal was across the room in a second. He yanked to the door open to find Tosh standing out in the corridor looking back at him.

 

“Colonel Smith,” Tosh nodded respectfully and Hannibal leant against the door frame with his arms folded, disappointment sharpening his tongue.

 

“Lieutenant McIntosh, I can’t think for one moment that there is anything that you would want to tell me that I would be remotely interested in listening to.”

 

Tosh shifted uncomfortably and looked down at the carpet before braving another glance up at Hannibal, “I know you have little reason to give me the time of day, sir, but I really need to talk to you.”

 

Hannibal looked him over, and realised he was still wearing the loose fitting martial arts pants that he had fought in during the day, although now he had thrown a grey marl t-shirt on as well. Hannibal also noticed the bruising to his face and the way he cradled his heavily bound left arm against his chest. With a sigh, Hannibal stepped back into his room and Tosh followed him, closing the door behind him.

 

Gesturing to the chair at the desk in the corner, Hannibal perched himself on the end of the bed and folded his arms staring at Tosh. “Well, lieutenant, I’m listening, this had better be good.”

 

Tosh looked him straight in the eye. “I know you don't think much of me, sir, I know you think that I have deliberately assaulted your LT at least twice this week.”

 

“I know you have,” Hannibal told him evenly.

 

Tosh nodded slowly, “Yes, you’re right, I did.”

 

Hannibal caught his breath and let out a tight laugh, “You came here in the middle of the night to admit to assaulting Face? Son, I never had you down as stupid...”

 

Rubbing his eyes tiredly Tosh slumped forward over his knees, “I had my reasons sir,” he muttered.

 

“And?” Hannibal was in no mood for this right now.

 

Tosh sighed and sat up straight looking at Hannibal carefully as if he were appraising him. He seemed to make some kind of a decision because he swallowed hard then stared right n Hannibal’s eyes, “This may be hard for you to hear, sir, I know he is your friend and you have known him a long time, but...” Tosh’s usually pale countenance suddenly flushed red and he glanced down to the carpet, “Well, the truth is that Colonel McArthur is not a good CO.”

 

Hannibal stared. He’d thought they were talking about Face, had prepared himself to hear some story about how Face stole Tosh’s girlfriend off him when they were in Boot Camp or something. He hadn’t thought that Tosh was here to talk about Dougie.

 

“Listen, son, I’m not the right person to talk to about this. There is nothing you could tell me about Dougie that would surprise me, but really, you got a complaint to make about him, take it up the chain.”

 

But Tosh wasn’t listening, “He’s a sadist, Col. Smith, and he’s unbalanced.” Hannibal frowned. “And he has plans, always has plans, he plans for anyone he ever meets, he’s a manipulative genius.”

 

“Son,” Hannibal stood up, “I really don't see what this-”

 

“He’s got plans for Face.”

 

There was a beat of silence and then Hannibal slowly sat down again, “What type of plans?”

 

Tosh shuffled awkwardly, “He wants him. Wants all of him. It’s what he does, he thinks of himself as a collector of people.”

 

“Wants him?” Hannibal frowned, “What do you mean? Professionally? .....Sexually? What?”

 

“All of it...” Tosh whispered miserably, his eyes staring, unseeing, at the patterns on the carpet, “He’ll reel him in, make him trust him and then push him into things he doesn’t really want to do,” Hannibal swallowed back his own memories, “but then he will make Face dependent on him, chip away at his confidence, his free will, make nothing matter except pleasing the colonel, no matter how, no matter what the price... And once he’s done that, there will be no going back. He’ll feel empty inside because no matter what he does, then it’s never right, and no matter how hard he tries, it’s never enough. And then all you are left with is an empty shell, a poor shadow of a soldier, whose only reason for existence is to serve a master who is never satisfied.”

 

Tosh shook his head and dropped his face into his good hand, breathing heavily as he tried to get himself back under control. “Son,” Hannibal’s voice was soft now, “You don't have to let him bully you like this. There are people you can talk to, people who will help you.”

 

Tosh looked up and his face was even whiter than usual, “It’s too late for me, Col. Smith, I’ve travelled so far along his road I have no idea who I am anymore. But it wasn’t too late for Face, that’s why I hurt him, Dougie had been talking about him all the damn time since that first night, all his plans, everything he was going to do to him, and I just couldn’t bear it, I mean, he seemed like a nice enough guy, the thought that I would stand by and watch while Dougie ripped him into little pieces was too much.”

 

“So, you thought if he was injured, he’d leave and Dougie wouldn’t be able to touch him?”

 

Tosh nodded, “But it didn’t work like that. Every damn thing Face did was just enticing Dougie further in, And then tonight, when he won, Dougie just thought he was the answer to every dream he’d ever had...”

 

Hannibal’s eyes snapped up, “He won?”

 

Again Tosh nodded.

 

“But I thought, when you turned up here, I assumed...”

 

Tosh let out a harsh laugh, “You thought I’d beaten him?” Hannibal nodded and Tosh shook his head sadly, “He came back out and kicked my hide good and proper in three minutes flat. Broke my arm,” Tosh gingerly moved the wrapped limb, “knocked me out cold. Could have killed me, I’ve never seen someone so... intense before. Whatever you and he had argued about before you left,” Tosh shook his head again, “It really wound him up.”

 

Now it was Hannibal’s turn to drop his face into his hands, how could he have been so stupid?

 

“Look, Tosh, thanks for this and I’ll sort it out, first chance tomorrow I’ll-”

 

“No!” Tosh was on his feet again, “Why do you think I’m here now? This can’t wait until morning!”

 

“Son, we all need a good night’s sleep and-”

 

“Dougie’s made his move on Face.”

 

Suddenly Hannibal’s entire world stopped, “What?” he breathed.

 

“Straight after the fight, Face was really groggy. I was out cold and everyone was fussing over me, and when I woke up I was told Dougie just about picked him up and carried him right out of the conference hall, no one has seen them since.”

 

Hannibal was past Tosh and out of the room before the lieutenant had even finished his sentence.

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