indigo_angels

At 7pm Face took the elevator up to the Whiskey Sky on the lookout for Jessie; it was after all, the very least he could do after just about throwing her out of his hotel room before her breakfast had even had the chance to go down.

It was one of those painful epiphanies that come rarely in life. It had all seemed so logical before, so plain and straightforward and right. Just because it wasn’t easy it hadn’t really presented Face with much cause for concern, after all, not much in his life ever had been easy. He was used to having to fight, having shit thrown at him from every direction, having to look out for himself, make his own hard decisions. Maybe that’s why he’d turned Hannibal down? Maybe having something actually go right and be good and to have someone want to stand up with him and beside him and behind him had just been a step too far, a commitment too secure?

Yes, he loved Hannibal, of course he did, he had since the day they’d met. But now? Well, he’d fucked it up big style. FUBARs were a speciality of his, but this one? Even for him it was monumental. Even if he went back to Hannibal now, even if he crawled back on his hands and knees and begged him to take him back, Hannibal wouldn’t be interested. Face had proved himself to be insincere and a coward, two qualities he knew the boss just couldn’t stomach. No, that chance had gone, so he could either sit around and mope over his stupidity, or he could wise up and try to get his life back together before he destroyed his liver.

He spotted Jessie straight away. She was sitting right in the far corner of the bar, feet tucked up onto the chair in front of her, untouched glass of OJ in her hand, an anxious cloud across her eyes as her teeth constantly worried at her bottom lip.

She saw Face as he wove around the tables to join her, an easy smile on his face, seemingly oblivious to the looks his battered and bruised features were attracting. He leaned over the empty chair opposite, dropping a kiss on the top of her head and sliding a bunch of tightly wrapped anemones across the table to her before slipping into the chair, contrite expression firmly in place.

“I’m sorry I threw you out this morning.”

Jessie lifted the flowers to her nose and inhaled before setting them back on the table and offering a thin smile, “It’s okay. You had things to think about. I get that.”

Her eyes quickly flicked to the door and then back to the dark cityscape lit by its points of light outside the window and Face frowned, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes!” Jessie snapped then took a deep breath as Face raised an eyebrow at her, “I’m just tired that’s all. Not much sleep last night,” she added, sending a meaningful glance his way. He laughed and took a mouthful of the JD the barkeeper had dropped on the end of the table. “So...” Jessie leaned in towards him, “You made any decisions yet then?”

Face frowned again, “Decisions?”

“About your guy. You going back to him?”

For a moment Face was silent as his stomach did that annoying twisting thing, but then he laughed a dry bitter laugh that made Jessie wince. “Of course not,” he downed the rest of the JD, “What would be the point in that? You want another?” he gestured to her drink as he rose in his chair.

Jessie’s eyes flicked to the door once more, she was very clearly on edge, “No, I’d rather not. Listen,” she held his eyes and he could see some kind of entreaty there, “Would you mind if we took this back to your room? I’m not really in the mood to be here tonight...”

Face paused just for a beat and then smiled at her, “Of course, let’s go and empty the mini bar, that sounds like fun!”

Jessie smiled in response, but it was strained to say the least.

__________________________

Face’s watch beeped at midnight, just as Jessie hit the punch line of the story she’d been recounting and they both fell about laughing, empty miniature bottles rolling from the table as it was knocked.

“You’re kidding?” Face actually had tears of mirth in his eyes, “And her name really was Muriel?”

Jessie couldn’t answer for laughing, her fingers jammed in her mouth to try and stifle her outburst, so settled for nodding instead which just set Face off again.

They came down to earth slowly, and Face wiped his eyes, “Oh that is priceless, wait ‘til I tell Murdock-” and suddenly, the humour had gone.

Jessie took a sip from one of the few miniatures that still stood upright on the table, “Murdock? Who’s that then? That your guy?”

Face’s eyes fell on a fallen bottle and he span it slowly between his fingers, “Nah, he’s my buddy, my best friend,” and he hated the way his throat tightened.

“You never did tell me what your guy was called...”

Silence stretched for whole minutes as the bottle slowly rotated under Face’s fingers before he replied, “Hannibal...” in an almost whisper.

Jessie physically jumped. “Hannibal?!” and her response made Face jump in return.

He looked up quizzically at her, “Yeah. Why?”

It took her just a couple of seconds to get it back together, force her body to relax and offer a smile to Face, “Nothing. Just an unusual name that’s all,” she shrugged.

“Unusual guy,” Face muttered and rose from the table in one fluid movement, slipping through the sliding doors and out into the chill night air of the balcony.

Jessie followed him out and slid her arms around his waist from behind, “You miss him...”

“Of course.”

“You should go back.”

“I can’t...”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

Face sighed and turned round in her arms, slipping his own around her shoulders and keeping her close, “I can’t,” he whispered, “Too much has changed, I’ve made too many mistakes, it just wouldn’t work.”

“How do you know before you even try?”

Face laughed, “I know him.”

“You think a man who searched for you for sixteen months will turn you away if you come back to him three months later? That’s crazy...”

Face frowned and leaned in, dropping a soft kiss onto Jessie’s lips. She immediately leaned back out of his reach, “What are you doing?”

He stayed in her personal space, his eyes wide and sincere and holding hers so intimately. “I’m lonely,” he whispered, “I’m so damn lonely it almost cripples me and I just don’t know what to do about it.”

Jessie wasn’t moving away but there was an angry fire in her eyes, “And so you figure that I’ll do as a bed warmer for the night then?”

Face dipped his head, resting his chilled skin against her flushed forehead, “No, not at all. I just see that same loneliness in your eyes, that same hunger for warmth and touch and intimacy. For love.”

Jessie frowned, “You don’t love me.”

“I’m not in love with you, no, but, I don’t know, it’s weird, I feel like I’ve known you my whole life...” He dropped another kiss to her lips and this time she didn’t pull away, “I can see you are running from your own demons, you’ve got your own fears and worries. I could make you feel better; forget about all that, just for a few hours. What do you say?”

They were sharing the same air now, and Jessie could feel her heart hammering against her ribs. God, it was tempting. As much as this had never been on her agenda, she had wanted Face from the first moment she’d seen him. It was crazy, but maybe he was right. He’d been through so much, still was, and so was she, so didn’t they both deserve just this little bit of comfort? She felt her resolve weakening. “No strings?” she whispered into his mouth.

“No strings,” he replied and they surged together, two desperate, lonely bodies meeting in the cold of the night.

Interlude

The desert sky is a pin cushion of tiny points of light with the moon sitting proudly in the centre like a doting parent, but Face, hopelessly scanning the horizon for any sign of a rescue, has no time for such beauty tonight. He turns and scrambles back through the ruined remains of people’s lives, shattered bricks and glass tearing at his shins and ankles, his hands as he falls, and he swears constantly under his breath.

What went wrong tonight? This was supposed to have been a cheerleader mission, sweet and easy and they should have been back at base in time for a beer. But no, no fucking luck.

He pulls himself into the crumbling goat shed, the only building in the whole village still standing relatively intact, and drops down at Hannibal’s side, fingers automatically sliding to the pulse point on his boss’s neck.

He sags in relief as he feels the steady thump against his skin and he reaches down to pull the space blanket back up over his CO’s shoulders.

“Face?” Hannibal’s voice is strong and that’s the best news Face has had in the last hour.

“Yeah, boss, I’m here.”

Hannibal turns to the sound of his voice and manages to pick him out in the light of the full moon, “We in the shit here, kid?”

Face manages a tired laugh, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve set off a beacon; the good guys will be here in no time at all.”

“How bad am I?”

Face’s stomach twists, but he knows better than to lie to his boss, “You were a little too close to one of those bastard shells. Took a bit of shrapnel, not too bad. You’ll make it.”

Hannibal nods, content that Face wouldn’t lie to him. “And you?” he reaches up and touches Face’s temple, his fingers coming away with blood on them, “You’re bleeding.”

“Ditto. But luckily for me you took most of the shit headed my way.”

Hannibal laughs, but breaks it off as it flares pain right through his chest.

“Take it easy boss, just relax there.”

Face watches as Hannibal closes his eyes against the pain and obviously tries to steady his breathing. Within ten minutes he’s breathing slowly and deeply and Face smoothes the blanket down again and leans up against the wall in the corner, one hand on Hannibal’s shin, one hand on his gun, just waiting.

He knows they will come, but he knows that the insurgents just might come back first; he needs to stay awake and stay alert or they will both end up dead. There’s a hitch though, that shell fragment that struck his head almost knocked him to Timbuktu; he knows he’s concussed, he feels as sick as a dog and now the damn room won’t stop spinning. He closes his eyes, just to try and make it stop, and slips under before he can stop himself.

He wakes at the sound of boots scuffling in the sand and for one glorious moment thinks their saviours have arrived, but then his eyes actually focus and he sees a figure in Arab robes kneeling over his boss, the blade of a knife shining in the moonlight and he just reacts.

His gun is still in his hand, the insurgent obviously hadn’t noticed him propped up in the shadows as he is, but he’s worried about hitting Hannibal so swings it round, using it as a club, and pounding it into his target again and again and again. Terror fuels his attack, what if this bastard has already slit Hannibal’s throat? What if he’s already slid that damn knife between his boss’s ribs? Why did Face have to go and fall asleep as well? How can he go on if Hannibal is dead?

“Face!” a voice knocks at the edge of his consciousness and he sees Hannibal’s eyes wide open, staring at him in shock, “That’s enough! Stop!” But he can’t, the fear is still there, driving him forward and he raises his gun butt again and again. “Stand down, soldier!”

But he’s too damn scared, what if this guy gets up again?

“You’re scaring me!” Hannibal’s voice suddenly sounded different, “Rob! Stop it!”

And Face stopped, leaning forward, head in his hands and breathing heavily.

A tentative hand touched his back and Jessie’s voice, frightened in the dark reached out to soothe him, “It’s okay, it was a dream. You’re okay, Hannibal’s okay, it’s all okay.”

He reached back and took her fingers in his own, trying to stop the tremors that wracked his body, “Nightmare...” even his voice shook.

“I know,” Jessie folded her body along his back and the warmth was comforting, “But it’s over now.”

Face screwed his eyes shut and wished it really was, but that was one of his regular nightmares, an old favourite from the early days in Iraq and he knew it would be back to haunt him again. He’d been so terrified for Hannibal that he had killed that guy with his bare hands, wasn’t even an insurgent, just some opportunist looter who picked the wrong building to sneak into...

The look on Hannibal’s face had been horrendous, it was like he didn’t even know Face, like he didn’t recognise the person with that much violence inside of him, like he was frightened of him...

Oh, shit...

“Jessie,” he turned in the sheets, feeling her soft curves press against him, “I’m sorry! Are you alright? Did I...” he couldn’t say the words.

“I’m fine!” Hands stroked his cheeks and lips gently brushed his own, “You scared the shit out of me,” she even chuckled a little at that and Face felt the ice round his heart loosen just a tiny bit, “But you didn’t hurt me. Come here,” and she sat back against the headboard, pulling him down onto her chest and gently stroking his hair, “Just relax. I’ve got you now, go back to sleep.”

And slowly he did. Deserts and knives locked away again - until another night.

_______________

Face stirred as his watch alarm beeped mercilessly on his wrist. He tired to lift his other hand to switch it off but found something warm and heavy weighing it down and opened his eyes to find himself looking into Jessie’s sleeping face. She looked fine, no marks as souvenirs of his terror in the night. He shuddered at the memory and slid his arm out from underneath her, silencing his watch and slipping out of bed to shower; he had another job with Accrombo.

He was shaved, showered and dressed in eight minutes and crept back into the bedroom to find his shoes and leave Jessie a note, but her eyes flicked open as he slipped in through the half open door.

“Hey,” her voice was thick with sleep, “You don’t have to creep out of your own hotel room the next morning you know?”

Face chuckled and dropped a kiss onto her head, “Go back to sleep. I have a job to do.”

But Jessie was instantly awake, her eyes wide and fearful, “With Accrombo? Oh, I was going to talk to you about this! That guy is bad news; you shouldn’t have anything to do with him!”

Face froze in the act of buttoning up his shirt and stared at Jessie suspiciously, “How the hell do you know about Accrombo?”

Jessie looked frightened, and Face was suddenly reminded of her nervousness when they had met in the bar last night. She pulled the sheets tightly around herself and offered a shaky smile, “Crazy stalker girl remember? I’ve been following you?”

Yeah, he remembered that conversation, but why didn’t they ever get round to finishing it off? How come he never made her tell him why she’d been following him? Something here made no sense at all...

“Don’t go...” Jessie’s plea brought his gaze back to her face, “Do you have any idea what is in those vans you drive?”

Face bristled at the perceived insult, “What the hell do I care as long as I get paid?”

Jessie’s eyes widened, “You know?” He folded his arms. “You know and you still do it? What is wrong with you?”

Irritation burned deep in Face’s chest and he scowled at Jessie, “Sometimes there just isn’t much choice.”

Sadly, Jessie shook her head, “There is always a choice and you are better than this. What would Hannibal say if he knew what you were doing?”

That comment was like a red rag to a bull and Face exploded. In three strides he was at the side of the bed, his fists clenched, leaning over Jessie threateningly. In response she knelt up and stared at him, her own eyes flashing a retort. “What would you know? You don’t know Hannibal! You don’t know me! I only met you three days ago!”

“You’d be surprised what I know about the both of you! And it doesn’t take a genius to work out he would be horrified if he knew what you were up to, any sane person would! And more to the point you know this, and that’s why you are so pissed! Why you think you can get away with intimidating me!”

Face took a step back but the fury was still evident in his expression, “You know nothing,” he reiterated then glanced at his watch, “Shit! I have to go,” he couldn’t be late and give Accrombo an excuse to be pissed with him. He snatched his coat and backed towards the door. “You!” he stabbed a finger in Jessie’s direction, “Stay here, I’ll be back around one, and then I want some answers!”

But Jessie’s eyes suddenly lost their anger as she flicked them at the bedside clock, “I can’t. I’ve got – things on,” and Face could see real fear in her expression. “I’ll meet you tonight instead? In the bar?”

He nodded tersely and headed out.

“Please tell him, Face,” Jessie’s voice was tinged with panic, “Please tell him you are through with the driving. It’s just not worth selling your soul to the devil...”

Face slammed the door much harder than he needed to and ran down the corridor headed for the fire escape rather than wait for the elevator; he was going to have to really motor if he stood any chance of getting there on time today.

It was only when he’d finally reached the entrance to the garage and he was being buzzed in by Accrombo himself, that he realised Jessie had called him Face.

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