![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
A Mother's Love - Part Eighteen
Oct. 17th, 2011 08:01 pmMinutes passed, and with them the worst of the storm. Hannibal felt Face relax against him and his breathing slow to normal. “You okay?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah,” Face whispered back. “I just don't know what’s real and what isn’t any more, John. Why would she tell me that if it wasn’t true? But then what are these dreams if not memories?”
“I don’t know,” Hannibal admitted. “Maybe they are just that, dreams. Maybe it’s just your subconscious reaction to all the stress you’ve been under.”
Face considered that. “I guess that makes sense.”
“And you know, kid,” Hannibal continued, his hands creeping under Face’s top to smooth circles over his back, “you don’t have to rush back into this thing with Adele. You can take your time; let yourself get used to everything you have learned tonight before you see her again. If you see her again.” Face was silent and Hannibal frowned as he felt him tense up once more. “Face?”
For a long moment, Face didn’t move, but then he lifted his head from Hannibal’s chest and looked him straight in the eye and Hannibal was surprised to see the guilt etched into every plane of his face. Hannibal frowned in confusion. “Face?” he repeated, wondering if he really wanted to know what was behind that look.
“She’s dying, boss...” Face whispered.
“What?!” Hannibal couldn’t believe his ears. “Dying? What the fuck do you mean by dying? Like, cancer or something dying? Months-to-live dying?”
Face just shrugged, “I dunno,” he muttered miserably, “she told me and I just walked out on her. Some fucking son I am.”
Hannibal blinked in surprise at Face’s choice of words. “Don’t,” he said harshly. “Don't even go there. She can’t expect you to act any different than that if she is going to dump all this on you the first time you meet.” Face just stared wretchedly at Hannibal. “And what happens is still up to you. Your choice for things to go as fast or slow as you want.”
But Face shook his head. “How can I do that, Hannibal?” he asked quietly. “She’s dying and she wants to get to know me. How can I say no to that?”
Hannibal wanted to tell him he could, tell him had every right to tell her to go fuck herself, but he saw the look of desperation in his expression and pulled him in for another hug instead, cradling him in against his chest. “Oh, kiddo,” he murmured, stroking through Face’s hair. “I’m so sorry that this is such a mess. You deserve more than this.”
For a couple of minutes Face was silent, but Hannibal had felt him tense up again and so was ready when the question eventually came. “You still think that, John? After all you know about me?”
Despite it being expected Hannibal had to bite back the frustration that question provoked in him. “Yes,” he forced himself to answer calmly. “You deserve everything in your life to be perfect. Everything. Nothing in your past would ever change that. I’ve told you that, kid.”
Face fell quiet once more, his breath huffing a warm trail over Hannibal’s skin. “What shall I do?” he asked eventually, sounding so lost and confused that Hannibal’s heart just broke for him.
“Whatever you want to do, baby,” Hannibal replied. “This whole thing is your gig.”
“It’s not though is it?” Face asked morosely, “It’s hers.”
There was another couple of minute’s silence before Face spoke again. “I need to go and see her again, don't I?”
“If you think that’s the right thing to do.”
Face sighed. “It’s the only thing to do.”
Hannibal squeezed him tight. “You want me to come with you?” He was desperate to come, the times Face had seen Adele so far had seen him pitching into an abyss every time. Hannibal no longer trusted her with his boy, not one tiny bit and badly wanted to be there for any future meeting to try and act as a buffer for Face, but he wouldn’t, not unless the kid wanted him to.
Face thought about this. “No,” he eventually answered. “Thanks, boss, but I’m not a baby, I can do this on my own.”
“I know you aren’t a baby,” Hannibal explained patiently, “Doesn’t mean you might not appreciate the support.”
“I’m fine,” Face insisted. “Thanks though.”
Hannibal slid back into silence, biting his tongue and hoping that Face might just get around to changing his mind.
“It’s going to be light soon,” he said eventually, his broad hand still rubbing over the smooth expanse of back under his palm, “you need to try and get some more sleep. Shall I kill the lights?”
“Whatever,” Face mumbled, “I’m too fucking tense to sleep anyway.”
Hannibal sighed, he’d felt the evidence of that under his hand for the last twenty minutes. Normally, under circumstances such as these, he wouldn’t think twice about stripping Face naked and rubbing all that tension away, but just now, after all that had happened, he really wasn’t sure how much of anything like that would be welcome. Maybe he should wait until Face asked... his hand stopped in his movements as he considered that.
“Boss?” Face asked, feeling the tension in Hannibal’s body.
But, then, Hannibal mused, maybe Face would never ask, he was proud like that, never really wanted to look weak, to look as if he actually needed something from someone. He looked down into the confused blue eyes staring back up at him and smiled, “You want a back rub, kiddo?” he offered. “See if I can’t get rid of all those knots for you?”
Face smiled, a genuine, happy smile with more than a hint of relief about it. “Would I ever!” he responded brightly, instantly sitting up and pulling his undershirt off before turning and lying face down on the bed, arms folded under him. “You know you are the best at this. Oil’s in the bathroom.
Hannibal couldn’t stop his own smile at the kid’s enthusiasm, he could be so hedonistic at times, but it was nice to see him thinking about something other than the misery that had dogged him for days now. Within minutes Hannibal was ready, straddled over Face’s thighs, warming the oil in his big hands as he admired the back in front of him, the way it tapered elegantly into the waist band of his trunks, the way the muscles shifted subtly under the skin as Face breathed. With a smile all of his own, Hannibal leaned forward and started his massage.
____________________________
Adele stomped down the corridor, the shoes she’d kicked off in the elevator swinging wildly in her hand as she made her way back to her hotel room. Total fucking disaster, that’s what her night had been Total. Fucking. Disaster. First Danny ‘out-lating’ her, then his lack of respect for her carefully orchestrated bombshells, then him walking out, walking out! when she told him of her fast approaching tragic demise, and finally that silent, surly big guy turning up to comfort her when she had specifically told John to come. Ridiculous.
But, Adele allowed herself, at least there had been a glimmer of hope in that final twist. BA, and really, what kind of a name was that? had been appalled when she had sobbed out how Danny had abandoned her in the face of her terminal illness, she’d seen real anger in his eyes as he had promised that he would make sure ‘Face’ did the right thing by his momma. Well, that was something, she admitted, that guy looked scary enough, maybe he would pound some sense into Danny’s stubborn, selfish head.
She fished her key card out of her purse and stabbed it savagely into the slot, relieved beyond belief that she was home and thinking that the night, at least, could not get any worse. She was wrong.
The second the door shut behind her she looked up and froze, first shock and then anger washing over her face in quick succession. She threw her shoes into the corner and stomped up to the two men sitting in the bucket seats at the far end of the room, snatching the bottle of brandy from the table in front of them, a tipping a large splash into an empty glass standing on the dresser.
“What,” she snarled, punctuating her sentence with a gulp of liquor, “the fuck are you two doing here?”
One of the men, older than Adele, crumpled, dirty cream suit and off-white shirt stretched to breaking point over his rather substantial gut, sent a shifty look at his smirking companion and shuffled awkwardly in his seat, not quite daring to meet Adele’s furious stare. “A-Adele, darling,” he stammered, “we just, I mean, Silas here, just wanted to see how you were.”
Adele’s grey eyes narrowed coldly, “Shut up, Eddie,” she snapped at him before turning to the other man who was now grinning broadly at her. “You aren’t interested in how I am, are you?” she hissed quietly, “You are interested in how I am getting on. How close to the money I am.”
The man called Silas simply broadened his smile, “What’s the difference?” he shrugged.
Adele shook her head and stepped away, perching on the end of her bed and glaring at them both. “Well, gentlemen, I could have saved you the bother of your long flight. The topic of money hasn’t even been broached yet, I am still trying to stop him from running away every time he sees me.”
Eddie looked concerned at that news, but Silas only laughed. “Immune to your charms is he Adele? I did warn you with this one, the whole lot of them are suspicious by nature. Why do you think I was forced to let you two amateurs into my game? If it had been that easy to get the A-Team to cough up the whereabouts of their secret money hoard, I would have done it myself a long, long time ago.”
Adele shook her head and went back to her brandy, but Eddie cast nervous glances between the two, fiddling with a loose thread on the arm of his sleeve. “Are you sure about this, Silas? About this money? None of the reports I have read about that business in Baghdad mention missing money.”
Silas’ grin disappeared and he turned dark, suspicious eyes onto his associate. “Really Eddie?” he asked quietly. “And you have access to the same restricted CIA reports as I do, do you?”
“I am a Private Detective!” Eddie answered, looking very put out by Silas’ comments.
“After a fashion...” Adele murmured into her glass earning her a smirk from Silas and a hurt glance from Eddie.
“I found Danny for you!” he protested fiercely.
“And I found you,” Silas snapped, “so let’s just move on and see if we can’t all find this damn money since Adele is failing so badly!”
Adele rounded on him instantly, refusing to be daunted by his fierce expression, the dark eyes glaring at her from underneath the equally dark shock of hair or the obvious hard muscle hiding under his charcoal grey suit. “It is in hand,” she muttered angrily, “I have started the ball rolling tonight and within days I will have Danny handing over every last dime of the team’s secret stash.”
Silas’ eyebrows rose. “Really? And why would he want to do that?”
Returning his smirk, Adele folded her arms across her ribs, pushing her breasts up just a little to show them at their best, “Because I’m dying. And I have no insurance, and can’t pay for any treatment and as you said yourself, Silas, John and his team are suckers for a lost cause.”
Silas nodded appreciatively, but Eddie still frowned, “But...” he stammered, “Smith is no fool, won’t he insist on seeing some proof before he hands over the cash?”
“And you think I’m a fool do you, Eddie?” Eddie seemed to think on this as Adele rolled her eyes, “Well, let me answer that one for you shall I? No, I’m not. I have a file as thick as my arm with doctor’s letters, x-rays, blood tests, bills... everything I would need to persuade even the most suspicious of minds that I’m running on empty here.”
“Great,” Silas got to his feet, sleek and graceful, like a hungry panther Adele thought, and Eddie scrabbled to follow him. “We’ll leave it in your hands for a few more days then, Adele, see if you can’t pull this off after all.”
Adele’s narrowed eyes tracked them to the door and as they stepped out into the corridor she followed them, standing in the doorway, staring right into Silas’ black eyes. “Don’t push me here,” she told him quietly. “Danny is my son, and if he decides to give me that money, then it’s mine. I’ll share it with you only as long as you don’t piss me off first.”
Silas looked coolly at her while Eddie fidgeted awkwardly in the corridor. Adele stared back and didn’t back down an inch when Silas stepped up to her, moving right into her personal space. “And without my brother tipping me off, you wouldn’t even know the money was there and you would still be trying to distance yourself as far as possible from Peck. So if you even think of running out on me here with my share of those dollars, I will kill you. You got that, Mrs. Armando?”
Adele held her ground. “To kill me you would have to find me. And with thirty million dollars in my purse and a very good reason to hide, I think you’d struggle. You got that Mr. Pike?”
And with a sweet smile, she closed the door in his face.
Next
“Yeah,” Face whispered back. “I just don't know what’s real and what isn’t any more, John. Why would she tell me that if it wasn’t true? But then what are these dreams if not memories?”
“I don’t know,” Hannibal admitted. “Maybe they are just that, dreams. Maybe it’s just your subconscious reaction to all the stress you’ve been under.”
Face considered that. “I guess that makes sense.”
“And you know, kid,” Hannibal continued, his hands creeping under Face’s top to smooth circles over his back, “you don’t have to rush back into this thing with Adele. You can take your time; let yourself get used to everything you have learned tonight before you see her again. If you see her again.” Face was silent and Hannibal frowned as he felt him tense up once more. “Face?”
For a long moment, Face didn’t move, but then he lifted his head from Hannibal’s chest and looked him straight in the eye and Hannibal was surprised to see the guilt etched into every plane of his face. Hannibal frowned in confusion. “Face?” he repeated, wondering if he really wanted to know what was behind that look.
“She’s dying, boss...” Face whispered.
“What?!” Hannibal couldn’t believe his ears. “Dying? What the fuck do you mean by dying? Like, cancer or something dying? Months-to-live dying?”
Face just shrugged, “I dunno,” he muttered miserably, “she told me and I just walked out on her. Some fucking son I am.”
Hannibal blinked in surprise at Face’s choice of words. “Don’t,” he said harshly. “Don't even go there. She can’t expect you to act any different than that if she is going to dump all this on you the first time you meet.” Face just stared wretchedly at Hannibal. “And what happens is still up to you. Your choice for things to go as fast or slow as you want.”
But Face shook his head. “How can I do that, Hannibal?” he asked quietly. “She’s dying and she wants to get to know me. How can I say no to that?”
Hannibal wanted to tell him he could, tell him had every right to tell her to go fuck herself, but he saw the look of desperation in his expression and pulled him in for another hug instead, cradling him in against his chest. “Oh, kiddo,” he murmured, stroking through Face’s hair. “I’m so sorry that this is such a mess. You deserve more than this.”
For a couple of minutes Face was silent, but Hannibal had felt him tense up again and so was ready when the question eventually came. “You still think that, John? After all you know about me?”
Despite it being expected Hannibal had to bite back the frustration that question provoked in him. “Yes,” he forced himself to answer calmly. “You deserve everything in your life to be perfect. Everything. Nothing in your past would ever change that. I’ve told you that, kid.”
Face fell quiet once more, his breath huffing a warm trail over Hannibal’s skin. “What shall I do?” he asked eventually, sounding so lost and confused that Hannibal’s heart just broke for him.
“Whatever you want to do, baby,” Hannibal replied. “This whole thing is your gig.”
“It’s not though is it?” Face asked morosely, “It’s hers.”
There was another couple of minute’s silence before Face spoke again. “I need to go and see her again, don't I?”
“If you think that’s the right thing to do.”
Face sighed. “It’s the only thing to do.”
Hannibal squeezed him tight. “You want me to come with you?” He was desperate to come, the times Face had seen Adele so far had seen him pitching into an abyss every time. Hannibal no longer trusted her with his boy, not one tiny bit and badly wanted to be there for any future meeting to try and act as a buffer for Face, but he wouldn’t, not unless the kid wanted him to.
Face thought about this. “No,” he eventually answered. “Thanks, boss, but I’m not a baby, I can do this on my own.”
“I know you aren’t a baby,” Hannibal explained patiently, “Doesn’t mean you might not appreciate the support.”
“I’m fine,” Face insisted. “Thanks though.”
Hannibal slid back into silence, biting his tongue and hoping that Face might just get around to changing his mind.
“It’s going to be light soon,” he said eventually, his broad hand still rubbing over the smooth expanse of back under his palm, “you need to try and get some more sleep. Shall I kill the lights?”
“Whatever,” Face mumbled, “I’m too fucking tense to sleep anyway.”
Hannibal sighed, he’d felt the evidence of that under his hand for the last twenty minutes. Normally, under circumstances such as these, he wouldn’t think twice about stripping Face naked and rubbing all that tension away, but just now, after all that had happened, he really wasn’t sure how much of anything like that would be welcome. Maybe he should wait until Face asked... his hand stopped in his movements as he considered that.
“Boss?” Face asked, feeling the tension in Hannibal’s body.
But, then, Hannibal mused, maybe Face would never ask, he was proud like that, never really wanted to look weak, to look as if he actually needed something from someone. He looked down into the confused blue eyes staring back up at him and smiled, “You want a back rub, kiddo?” he offered. “See if I can’t get rid of all those knots for you?”
Face smiled, a genuine, happy smile with more than a hint of relief about it. “Would I ever!” he responded brightly, instantly sitting up and pulling his undershirt off before turning and lying face down on the bed, arms folded under him. “You know you are the best at this. Oil’s in the bathroom.
Hannibal couldn’t stop his own smile at the kid’s enthusiasm, he could be so hedonistic at times, but it was nice to see him thinking about something other than the misery that had dogged him for days now. Within minutes Hannibal was ready, straddled over Face’s thighs, warming the oil in his big hands as he admired the back in front of him, the way it tapered elegantly into the waist band of his trunks, the way the muscles shifted subtly under the skin as Face breathed. With a smile all of his own, Hannibal leaned forward and started his massage.
____________________________
Adele stomped down the corridor, the shoes she’d kicked off in the elevator swinging wildly in her hand as she made her way back to her hotel room. Total fucking disaster, that’s what her night had been Total. Fucking. Disaster. First Danny ‘out-lating’ her, then his lack of respect for her carefully orchestrated bombshells, then him walking out, walking out! when she told him of her fast approaching tragic demise, and finally that silent, surly big guy turning up to comfort her when she had specifically told John to come. Ridiculous.
But, Adele allowed herself, at least there had been a glimmer of hope in that final twist. BA, and really, what kind of a name was that? had been appalled when she had sobbed out how Danny had abandoned her in the face of her terminal illness, she’d seen real anger in his eyes as he had promised that he would make sure ‘Face’ did the right thing by his momma. Well, that was something, she admitted, that guy looked scary enough, maybe he would pound some sense into Danny’s stubborn, selfish head.
She fished her key card out of her purse and stabbed it savagely into the slot, relieved beyond belief that she was home and thinking that the night, at least, could not get any worse. She was wrong.
The second the door shut behind her she looked up and froze, first shock and then anger washing over her face in quick succession. She threw her shoes into the corner and stomped up to the two men sitting in the bucket seats at the far end of the room, snatching the bottle of brandy from the table in front of them, a tipping a large splash into an empty glass standing on the dresser.
“What,” she snarled, punctuating her sentence with a gulp of liquor, “the fuck are you two doing here?”
One of the men, older than Adele, crumpled, dirty cream suit and off-white shirt stretched to breaking point over his rather substantial gut, sent a shifty look at his smirking companion and shuffled awkwardly in his seat, not quite daring to meet Adele’s furious stare. “A-Adele, darling,” he stammered, “we just, I mean, Silas here, just wanted to see how you were.”
Adele’s grey eyes narrowed coldly, “Shut up, Eddie,” she snapped at him before turning to the other man who was now grinning broadly at her. “You aren’t interested in how I am, are you?” she hissed quietly, “You are interested in how I am getting on. How close to the money I am.”
The man called Silas simply broadened his smile, “What’s the difference?” he shrugged.
Adele shook her head and stepped away, perching on the end of her bed and glaring at them both. “Well, gentlemen, I could have saved you the bother of your long flight. The topic of money hasn’t even been broached yet, I am still trying to stop him from running away every time he sees me.”
Eddie looked concerned at that news, but Silas only laughed. “Immune to your charms is he Adele? I did warn you with this one, the whole lot of them are suspicious by nature. Why do you think I was forced to let you two amateurs into my game? If it had been that easy to get the A-Team to cough up the whereabouts of their secret money hoard, I would have done it myself a long, long time ago.”
Adele shook her head and went back to her brandy, but Eddie cast nervous glances between the two, fiddling with a loose thread on the arm of his sleeve. “Are you sure about this, Silas? About this money? None of the reports I have read about that business in Baghdad mention missing money.”
Silas’ grin disappeared and he turned dark, suspicious eyes onto his associate. “Really Eddie?” he asked quietly. “And you have access to the same restricted CIA reports as I do, do you?”
“I am a Private Detective!” Eddie answered, looking very put out by Silas’ comments.
“After a fashion...” Adele murmured into her glass earning her a smirk from Silas and a hurt glance from Eddie.
“I found Danny for you!” he protested fiercely.
“And I found you,” Silas snapped, “so let’s just move on and see if we can’t all find this damn money since Adele is failing so badly!”
Adele rounded on him instantly, refusing to be daunted by his fierce expression, the dark eyes glaring at her from underneath the equally dark shock of hair or the obvious hard muscle hiding under his charcoal grey suit. “It is in hand,” she muttered angrily, “I have started the ball rolling tonight and within days I will have Danny handing over every last dime of the team’s secret stash.”
Silas’ eyebrows rose. “Really? And why would he want to do that?”
Returning his smirk, Adele folded her arms across her ribs, pushing her breasts up just a little to show them at their best, “Because I’m dying. And I have no insurance, and can’t pay for any treatment and as you said yourself, Silas, John and his team are suckers for a lost cause.”
Silas nodded appreciatively, but Eddie still frowned, “But...” he stammered, “Smith is no fool, won’t he insist on seeing some proof before he hands over the cash?”
“And you think I’m a fool do you, Eddie?” Eddie seemed to think on this as Adele rolled her eyes, “Well, let me answer that one for you shall I? No, I’m not. I have a file as thick as my arm with doctor’s letters, x-rays, blood tests, bills... everything I would need to persuade even the most suspicious of minds that I’m running on empty here.”
“Great,” Silas got to his feet, sleek and graceful, like a hungry panther Adele thought, and Eddie scrabbled to follow him. “We’ll leave it in your hands for a few more days then, Adele, see if you can’t pull this off after all.”
Adele’s narrowed eyes tracked them to the door and as they stepped out into the corridor she followed them, standing in the doorway, staring right into Silas’ black eyes. “Don’t push me here,” she told him quietly. “Danny is my son, and if he decides to give me that money, then it’s mine. I’ll share it with you only as long as you don’t piss me off first.”
Silas looked coolly at her while Eddie fidgeted awkwardly in the corridor. Adele stared back and didn’t back down an inch when Silas stepped up to her, moving right into her personal space. “And without my brother tipping me off, you wouldn’t even know the money was there and you would still be trying to distance yourself as far as possible from Peck. So if you even think of running out on me here with my share of those dollars, I will kill you. You got that, Mrs. Armando?”
Adele held her ground. “To kill me you would have to find me. And with thirty million dollars in my purse and a very good reason to hide, I think you’d struggle. You got that Mr. Pike?”
And with a sweet smile, she closed the door in his face.
Next
