Mission Five: Chapter 15 - “Nothing can possibly be this bad...”

When he’d finally finished packing up his things, Face had stood at the top of the stairs, life’s possessions in his hands and realised he was so damn exhausted he didn’t even have the energy to walk out of the house. He knew he had to go before Hannibal awoke, knew he didn’t have the words to explain everything that was buzzing around in his head just yet, so settled for setting his watch alarm for 0430 and collapsed, utterly worn out, onto his cheap, hard, never-supposed-to-be-used mattress. His sleep, however wasn’t restful; too many memories and too much still to cope with, all whirling around in his exhausted mind. It had been after three thirty, and he was at the point of just giving up and leaving anyway when he’d eventually drifted off properly, the fatigue too strong to resist any further.

 

So, he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised to find his eyes opening again at almost four in the afternoon, his watch completely unheeded as it had beeped out his alarm almost twelve hours previously. He sat up, startled, eyes falling on the bags packed neatly at the bottom of his bed and wondered where the boss was, listened to the silent house and surmised that he must have gone out to work. His throat was dry and his stomach was empty, he honestly had no recollection of the last time he’d eaten having spent most of the flights from Russia trying to catch some sleep, so he swung his legs out of the bed and rubbed his face tiredly, getting his head together before he pushed himself up and, dressed in only his boxer shorts, headed off down the stairs towards the kitchen.   

 

The door to the spare room was open and Face glanced in as he went past, the bed was neatly made and the floor and dresser clean and empty, BA and Murdock had obviously decided to leave without seeing him. The pang of disappointment was sharp in his chest and he stood for a moment staring at the empty room before he shook the thought away and wandered through the living area and into the kitchen/diner at the back; he needed some food and he needed to get going before Hannibal came home.

 

He rounded the corner of the breakfast bar and froze at the feeling of a cool breeze around his legs, looking up he saw the French doors at the end of the room wide open onto the decking where Hannibal was sitting, bare-chested and dressed in shorts, feet up on the little table, engrossed in a book. For a second, Face just stood, his heart pounding in his chest, eyes raking over Hannibal, at how much better he looked, and then went to take a step backwards, hunger forgotten, just as Hannibal glanced up and saw him.

 

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty!” he greeted him, an easy smile on his face, “I was wondering when you would finally rise. Tough few days, huh?”

 

Face, glued to the spot, didn’t answer, but his eyes tracked Hannibal carefully as he swung his bare feet down from the table and walked over, warm hands sliding onto Face’s hips, kiss, light but possessive, on his lips and Face was completely unsure how to handle this.

 

Hannibal smiled at him, seeming to not notice his reticence and lightly circled his wrist with his own fingers, pulling Face along with him as he went out onto the deck once more, leading him into the sunshine and gently pushing him down into a chair. “Look what I made for you,” he offered, smiling again into Face’s blank expression, “I knew you’d want some coffee when you woke up, but I couldn’t keep it on all day just waiting for you, so I made a Thermos, look!” Hannibal held a flask up in his big hand and twisted the top, pouring the hot black coffee into a mug standing ready on the little table. “How’s that for service, hey kid?” Again he didn’t seem to notice that Face didn’t reply as he took the proffered mug and just held it tightly in both hands, trying to work out what the hell was going on here.

 

“You hungry?” Hannibal offered, stepping past him and into the little galley, “I picked up some of the mini Danish pastries you like so much this morning, I’ll put them in the oven for you, be done in about six minutes.”

 

“Hannibal...” Face was surprised to hear his own voice at all.

 

“It’s no problem, kid; I got the toffee pecan ones because I know-”

 

“Hannibal,” Face rose to his feet and followed Hannibal back into the house not really having it in him to play happy families at this point, not when he was planning on doing what he was...

 

“- that you’re not that keen on fruit when it’s all mushy and-”

 

“John,” Face grabbed his arm as he picked up the bag of pastries and spun him around but Hannibal ignored him, eyes on the bag in his hand.

 

“- sour, and that you think it makes the pastry soggy and-”

 

“John!”

 

“What?!” Hannibal suddenly exploded, dropping the pastries to the floor and grabbing Face’s shoulders in his hands, shoving him back until he hit the wall with a dull thud, “What, Face? You got something to say to me? You gonna tell me something? What is it hey, kid? You got something to say, well I’m listening!” Face just stared at him, his eyes wide, “Spit it out, come on! I’m waiting!”

 

“Hannibal... I’m...” and he tailed off. He hadn’t planned it to happen like this, how could he? How could he put everything he was feeling into words?

 

“You’re what?” Hannibal spat at him, anger in every syllable, “Leaving me, Face? Is that what you are trying to say?” Face’s mouth opened but still nothing useful came out. “I saw your bags,” Hannibal hissed, shoving him hard against the wall once more, “What happened? You over-sleep? Planning on clearing out before anyone else was up?” Face’s guilty frown was the only confirmation he needed. “Jesus Christ!” he yelled, giving Face one more shove before flinging his hands away and whirling around to stand at the counter, head down, hands pressed onto the cool marble top. “Seven years...” he whispered almost to himself, “Seven years we’ve been together, and you don’t even think I deserve an explanation? A fucking reason?”

 

Face’s heart was hammering away in his chest, his knees shaking so much he had to spread his hands out on the wall to steady himself, “I’m... sorry...” was all he could come up with to say.

 

“Sorry?” Face winced at the bitterness to Hannibal’s voice, “Yeah, I bet you are sorry. Sorry that we ever got that damn mission, sorry that you were ever forced to see the truth that had been staring you in the face all these years!”

 

Face closed his eyes in despair, so, Hannibal knew; he wondered who had told him or if he had worked it out for himself back at the car in Magadan, and then realised it didn’t matter, and both Murdock and BA probably felt obliged to tell the boss anyway. He wondered absently what in particular had upset the boss. Wondered if it was killing those farm boys in the woods or trying to take Anya, or maybe even what had happened with Uri on the train, but then Face thought that Murdock only knew half of that story... Anyway, it didn’t matter, all that mattered was that Hannibal knew now what he was like and didn’t like what he saw.

 

He looked over at the back of Hannibal’s bent head and was grateful for the fact that the boss had stayed over there, that Face didn’t have to see the disappointment in his eyes.

 

“I’ll just go then,” he whispered, embarrassed at the roughness to his voice. Hannibal didn’t respond.   

 

Face stood for just a moment longer, waiting, hoping that the boss would say something to him, would tell him that it didn’t matter, that he could help Face to sort all of this out, could make it better like he always did. But no. He pushed off from the wall.

 

“I am sorry, boss...” he whispered, “I never meant for things to work out this way,” Hannibal didn’t move. “And I never wanted to let you down.” The thick silence was smothering in the kitchen so Face turned and stepped back into the diner, he couldn’t do this.

 

Hannibal shook his head, “I’m sorry too, kid,” Face stopped in the doorway, his back to the boss. “I never pretended I was someone I wasn’t,” unlike me, Face thought sadly, “but if I gave you that impression, I am sorry. Misleading you was never on my agenda.”

 

Face frowned, wondering how that even made sense when Hannibal spoke again, low and urgent, everything coming out in a rush as if he was worried he’d lose the courage. “Sometimes circumstances just take over though, kid. It doesn’t matter how strong you are, how resourceful, sometimes someone else just gets the upper hand on you. And that’s what teams are for.” Face’s frown deepened and he heard Hannibal take a deep breath. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that. I’m sorry it’s had this much of an effect on you. But Face, I’m not sorry that it happened. I never pretended to be a superhero.”

 

His mind whirling away in thought, Face stood still until everything clicked into place and he turned slowly on the spot to find Hannibal watching him, arms crossed tightly across his heart.

 

“You think,” Face chose his words carefully, “that I’m leaving because you were captured?”

 

He watched the faint flush appear on Hannibal’s cheeks. “Well, it was more than captured, kid, wasn’t it? I was out thought, out manoeuvred. I was dead if you hadn’t shown up.”

 

Face stared for a minute, this was crazy. He clenched his fists and took a step forward, the need to offer comfort to the man he loved over-whelming his need to leave, “No,” he whispered shaking his head emphatically, “just no! I’d never think that, I never thought that! Jesus, boss, just... no!” 

 

Hannibal looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the honesty in his eyes. Relief rushed through him with the force of a hundred waterfalls and he had to stop himself from sagging to the stool as it left him weak; he always knew when Face was trying to lie to him and this was not one of those times. He scrubbed at his face with a shaking hand, but then hit upon another thought. His brow creased in a  frown as he looked at Face. “Okay,” he whispered, closing the space between them, backing Face into the wall next to the French doors, “so, if it’s not that then, what is it? Why are you leaving me Face?” Belatedly, Face realised he was cornered. Hannibal put his hands up on the wall either side of the kid’s head, and leaned right in, the hairs on his bare chest tickling against Face’s skin, “Tell me,” he whispered, his voice so low that Face could feel it in his chest.

 

Face closed his eyes and plastered himself against the wall, fists tightly clenched.

 

“Tell me,” Hannibal repeated, his fingers trailing lightly down Face’s ribs.

 

“Hannibal please...” Face murmured, trying to melt right into the wall.

 

“Please what, kid? You can have anything you want from me, you know that. Please what?”

 

Face opened his eyes and looked at Hannibal the desperation clear in his expression and Hannibal could read it all there, Please boss, please figure this out on your own, I can’t tell you...

 

“Temp,” he whispered his other hand moving from the wall to stroke Face’s cheek as Face’s eyes flicked to the floor, “I don’t know, I honestly don’t have a clue what is upsetting you. I know you want me to work it out, but I can’t not without some help.”

 

Face knocked the stroking hand away, he was trapped and starting to panic. “I don’t want you to work anything out!” he retorted, “I just want to leave!”

 

Hannibal put his hand back up and tried to duck down to get into Face’s eye line, “No you don’t,” he whispered, “you want things to go back to how they were before Russia, right? All this upset stems from what happened in Russia, so come on kid, what happened?”

 

“Nothing!” Face exploded, shoving Hannibal back hard and bolting for the nearest door, the one onto the deck.

 

“Hey!” Hannibal grabbed his arm and held him fast, “Don’t run out on me here. You are scaring me. Now just calm down and tell me what happened to get you all keyed up like this! Nothing can possibly be this bad...”

 

“You think?!” Face was about as far from calm as possible and Hannibal cast a wary eye over the fence, wondering if the neighbours were in yet before tugging Face gently back into the house and kicking the French doors closed with his foot.

 

“Talk to me, kid...” Hannibal whispered reaching up with his free hand to stroke Face’s hair, something that never failed to soothe him.

 

“Don’t touch me!” Face yelled, knocking Hannibal’s hand away and wrenching his wrist free at the same time.

 

Hannibal watched as Face turned and headed for the stairs and suddenly made his decision. He’d let Face walk away from him once over this, whatever 'this' was, and he was damn lucky the kid had come back at all; there was no way he was going to take that risk again. In three long strides he caught up with Face and tackled him from behind, knocking him down face first onto the sofa and throwing himself on top, pinning his arms and legs with his weight advantage.

 

“Get the fuck off me!” Face yelled, struggling ineffectively pinned as he was.

 

“Talk to me,” Hannibal countered, struggling to keep Face underneath him as the kid writhed and tried to buck him off.

 

“No!” the panic in Face’s voice was cutting through him, but this whole mess needed sorting.

 

“What happened in Russia?” Hannibal pushed, trying  to hold Face still beneath him, “As far as I can see you did a damn fine job, you tracked me down, you led the team, you kept them safe, you made the lives of a bunch of street kids a whole lot better, and hell Face, you saved my life. You were amazing.”

 

All the time Hannibal had been talking, Face was still struggling, trying to break free, but at that last line, all the fight bled out of him and he sagged into the sofa cushions, “No,” he whispered, “no, I wasn’t. It was too much...”

 

Hannibal stilled. “Too much? Face, please talk to me. How can it be too much?”

 

“The things I did...” Hannibal could hear the emotions in Face’s words, the shame, the frustration, the downright fear and watched, thinking hard as his boy shook his head and pushed his face into the sofa cushions, hiding from Hannibal.

 

Finally, things started to click, “The things you did? To get the job done? To get me back?” Face didn’t move and Hannibal slid off him, onto his own knees on the floor next to the sofa, one hand on Face’s back, the other trying to turn his face from the cushions. “Look, it’s never easy being the one who has to make those decisions, Face, I know that, I do that all the damn time. All you can do is the very best you can in difficult circumstances, that’s all any of us can do, it’s all I ever do.” Still Face remained silent and still and Hannibal sighed. “I know that some serious shit went down when I wasn’t there, kid, I could see it in your eyes the second you bust into that room to get me out. It’s been in Murdock’s face all week, it was obvious in the way you and BA were looking at each other in Magadan, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what it is.”

 

“You can’t help me anyway,” Face mumbled into the cushions, “you can’t bring people back to life.”

 

A cold chill settled in Hannibal’s gut. Some people didn’t seem to mind the killing, some people damn well thrived on it. For some it was the only reason they joined up in the first place, while for others, and Hannibal considered himself in this category, it was a necessary evil, to be avoided if at all possible, but sometimes just part of the job. And then there were those like Face, who would do it, do it well when they needed to, but then liked to just pretend it had never happened, who had not yet come to terms with themselves as a killer. Hannibal knew he was like this, knew that he would quickly and efficiently bury any thoughts or memories he had of any kill he had had a hand in, but Hannibal had also worried what would happen when that handy little defence mechanism failed, when those thoughts and memories were just too strong to repress.

 

“Okay, kid,” Hannibal got to his feet and literally hauled Face out from the cushions, pulling him into a sitting position and plonking himself down next to him, both arms going around his shoulders, one leg lifting up and pushing behind him until Face was nestled in the gap between his legs, leaning into Hannibal’s chest, wrapped up tightly in every way the boss could get to him. “It’s time to talk. We are not getting up off this sofa until you’ve told me every damn thing that happened while I was captured, and I mean everything. I have held off talking to the others until I could talk to you, but Russ is bugging me for paperwork, so you know I’ll ask them as well. Come on Face, this is not going to come between us. Now talk.”

 

The silence in the room was heavy, and Hannibal was just starting to think that Face was going to hold out on him when he felt him fill his chest up with air. “Hannibal...” the fear was still there in his voice, “I can’t tell you...”

 

Frustration was bubbling up within him, but Hannibal had not lived with this man for eight years without knowing that Face needed patience, patience and more patience. “You can tell me anything.”

 

“I can’t!” and there was the panic. “If I tell you then you’ll...” Face stopped so abruptly he almost swallowed his tongue.

 

“I’ll what?” Hannibal asked in a voice of forced calm, “Be angry with you? Disappointed? Disgusted? What do you think I will be?” Silence. Hannibal tried another tack. “Was that what you felt, Face, when you found me in that room, chained to the wall like a dog, waiting to die, lying in my own piss?”

 

Face jerked out of Hannibal’s arms and turned on him, eyes red with unshed tears, “No!” he rejoined, “Of course not! I’ve told you that!”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I would never think that of you!”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I love you!”

 

Hannibal slid his big hand onto Face’s cheek just as a tear finally slipped out and rolled down his finger, “And I love you,” he answered gently, “more than anything. More than life. So, why would I think anything like that of you?”

 

Face realised he’d been played and slumped back down onto Hannibal’s chest, those strong, persistent arms coming back up to hold him tight.

 

“Let’s start this again,” he whispered gently. “Tell me everything that happened after I was taken.”

 

The clock on the shelf marked out three whole minutes of seconds before Face took a deep breath against Hannibal’s chest once more, and this time, when he let it out it was followed by the words, “As soon as they had you, I knew we’d been suckered. Murdock had been knocked out and we were being pushed back, so I had no choice but to call a retreat. BA disagreed, he said I was a coward and was running out on you...” the words stuttered to a halt and Hannibal just stroked his hair until he started up again, “We went back to the hut to plan our next move...”

 

And for the next three hours, Face’s quiet voice was the only thing that could be heard in the whole house.

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