indigo_angels

When Face woke up he was disorientated to say the least. His head was pounding, his arm felt like it was on fire and when he tried to move he realised he was shackled to a chair. He lifted his head and blinked away the fog to find that he was in the centre of a room, empty apart from a wooden table. No windows, single light bulb, reinforced steel door. Definitely not the Hilton then, Face thought dryly to himself.

He went back over the events in his mind as he remembered them... Cobb making a break for it, Face shooting Piper... He winced, not one of his better moments that. He just hoped that it was as clean a shot as he’d aimed for and that Piper would eventually see that he had no real choice... Then he shot Cobb and then the cops arrived and then, Face glanced down at his arm where he could see blood soaked into the wool of his ‘borrowed’ jumper and the fresh white dressing. “The bastards shot me!” he remarked out loud, appalled that he’d been shot even though he’d dropped his gun as instructed. It was a good job they were lousy shots...

So, if that was the case and he had been shot by the Tybee Island Police Department, then where the hell was he now? And why did he ache all over his damn body?

He pulled at his shackles and wished they’d fastened his wrists together instead of fastening them to the chair arms; he’d have been out of these damn things in seconds then.

The naked bulb was making his head pound even harder than before so he dropped his chin down onto his chest and closed his eyes, letting the blackness just claim him once more.

____________________

It was hard to tell how much time had gone by before he was rudely awakened by a hand in his hair lifting him upright, forcing his head back so that the bulb burnt into his retinas.

“What the fuck?” he slurred, struggling to open his eyes against the glare and then feeling his head snap around with a sharp backhand.

“Shut up, sonny,” a vicious whisper hissed in his ear, “you have a hell of a lot of explaining to do here!”

Face forced his head up, even though the pain made him want to scream, and tried to see past the bright light through his blurred eyes to his tormentor.

“You think your pathetic cover story of being an army boy would get you off the hook did you? You are facing, amongst other charges, six counts of murder and three of attempted murder, and since the accomplices you shot are in a pretty bad way, then that might just rise to eight counts.” The voice chuckled, “You are on your way to death row for sure sonny!”

Face shook his head, totally incredulous, “You are kidding me right? Is this ‘Candid Camera’ or something?”

This time the voice didn't laugh, “Don’t you wish it was? But so far the only witnesses I have spoken to place you as one of the gunmen, dressed in black just like them.”

Suddenly things weren’t looking so funny, and Face forced himself to think before he spoke. “But of course I was dressed like them,” he still had no idea where he was, who he was with, “I was pretending to be one of them so I could get close to them!”

“Oh, yes, very convenient, sonny... But Schmidt told you to stay out of the way, so why would you do the exact opposite unless you were in on it from the start?”

“In on it...” he trailed off and shook his head wincing at the way it made his brain spin faster. “I wasn’t in on anything, I was just out having a few beers with my buddy.”

“Would that be the same buddy you just shot? Glad I don't have friends like you.”

“I had to shoot him, Cobb was trying to abduct him, and I couldn’t get a clear pop at him with Piper in the way!” Somehow, even as the words left his mouth, Face knew they sounded implausible at best.

“Really? I think it’s more likely that you and your buddies were all planning on taking off out the back door with the loot, and then you decided to go solo. Shot the other two, were just about to disappear when the boys in blue caught up with you. That sound about right?”

Face felt sick to his stomach. “You don’t really believe that.”

“Doesn’t matter what I believe, sonny, what matters is what I can make stick on you.” Face closed his eyes in despair, he had just placed the voice of the man in the room with him and realised that things were looking pretty bleak indeed.

“Police Chief Frank,” he asked resignedly, “I am under arrest here then?”

Frank pulled back into the shadows, seemingly perturbed that Face recognised him, “Not yet, but I can sort that out just as soon as you like. You keen to get yourself off to jail then? Heard what happens to pretty little things like you in there have you?”

Ignoring him, Face took a deep breath. “It’s just, I know my rights,” he whispered, “I am entitled to a phone call and a lawyer and I’m saying nothing else until I get one.”

The light shining in his eyes hid the punch until it smashed into his face with so much force he slumped sideways out of the chair. Before he even had time to catch his breath he was being hauled upright again, hot, tobacco-sour breath in his face, “You will be lucky to get chance to pee here, sonny! This here is my town and what I say goes.” Face tried to pull away from him but he was held fast, hard fingers digging into the bullet wound on his arm, grinding into the damaged flesh, enjoying the feel of warm blood creeping around his fingers and the look of pain in Face’s eyes. “An’ if you make trouble for me here, then you might end up being one of those unfortunate ‘suicide in custody’ statistics, what do you think about that?” Face’s blood ran cold, “Yeah, I can see that you are exactly the type who would manage to hang themselves before their brief even arrives, eaten up with the guilt at letting your regiment down with your get-rich-quick scheme. So, what do you think, sonny? Certainly tidier aint it?”

Now Face was downright scared. All the bad shit he’d waded through in his lifetime, and who’d have thought it would be some fat, balding, crooked Police Chief that finally saw him off? If it wasn’t such a terrifying possibility it would be funny. “Fuck you...” he whispered instead, determined that this loser wasn’t going to see how scared he really was and was expecting the blow to his head even as it came.

“I can see you are going to be trouble,” Frank whispered right into Face’s ear as he held him up by his hair, “I think it would be a good idea to give you a hand with that noose as soon as possible, it’s such a shame no one thought to take your belt off you, someone on the front desk is going to get into big trouble about that at your inquest...”

Face writhed against the cuffs on his arms as he felt Frank’s fingers fumbling his belt undone and sliding it out of his jeans. “This is bullshit!” he hissed, “You know I had nothing to do with that robbery or those murders! And no one else will believe I did either!”

“No, but like I said, it’s tidier this way. And anyway, doesn’t matter what anyone believes about you, there will be no proof either way.” The belt was free now and Face felt Frank’s fingers pushing it over his head, slipping it around his neck, pulling it tight and he knew he had very little time left.

He moved like lightning, his head coming down to butt straight into Frank’s nose, hearing the satisfying crunch of bone and cartilage, while he brought up one leg, pulling his knee back into his stomach and lashing out, catching Frank in his ample gut and projecting him across the room into the wall. It was a valiant effort, breaking the Police Chief’s nose and putting a significant dent in his ego, but also, unfortunately, stoking his anger as well.

Frank wiped the blood from his nose onto the back of his hand and advanced on Face, his eyes narrowed slits of fury. “You little bastard...” he whispered, “you’ll pay for that.” Face tried to get his foot up again, but Frank shoved the table over, ramming it into his ribs and following through with a volley of blows to the side of the head. Face tried to roll with the punches, tried to keep the fog from his mind, but it was hard, the damn belt was tight around his neck and just as he began to worry that he was going to lose consciousness altogether, Frank stopped.

Eventually, Face managed to straighten up himself this time, forcing air down his throat past the tight ring of leather, hearing echoing shouts ringing in his ears as a result of the blows. He tried to shake them away, clear his head, but they just got louder, and then his head started to pound like fists on a door, and then just as he realised that the noises were real, the door burst open, flooding the room with bright, natural light. Face turned his head away from the white hot agony of the light spilling over him and heard Chief Frank’s voice, high pitched with something like fear as he tried to cover his tracks, “Oh, thank god...” he spluttered, “he just went mad when I was trying to interview him! He’s assaulted me, broke my nose! I’d just managed to restrain him with these cuffs when you got here...”

Face tried to object, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate and he was having trouble holding his head up at all. The black fuzzy edges of his mind were creeping inwards but he wouldn’t let them, all he knew was if he let go now and let himself slip into the dark then those bastards would have him hanging by his own belt from the light bulb within five minutes and Hannibal would think he had left him.

He forced his head up and tried to focus on the shape that was heading straight for him now out of the melee of bodies in the room but the glare from the corridor was too much and he screwed his eyes shut again, dropping his head back onto his chest. He focussed on the cacophony of voices, sifting through the shouting and yelling all around him, trying to pin down one voice, one word that might tell him just what the hell was going on here. Then, just when it was all getting too much and the despair was building to bursting point, there was a hand on his cheek, and another in his hair, then the belt around his neck was loosened and there was a voice at his ear and all was right with the world.

“It’s alright kid, I’ve got you...”

____________________________

Hannibal was furious, more so than Face had seen him in a long, long while, but even that was nothing compared to General Morrison who had police chiefs quaking in their boots and the Georgian Governor scrabbling to make amends for the way that Face had been treated. And then there was poor old Piper, struggling around on his crutches, face pinched in pain, who had contacted Hannibal as soon as he realised that Face had just dropped off the face on the earth at the resolution of the siege.

But Hannibal had sat on his anger and let Russ manage everything, making sure, instead, that he was there for his boys; getting Piper to finally sit down, letting Ellie come in and take him away for some much needed rest, and taking Face back to the beach house, refusing to let anyone else anywhere near him and not leaving his side for one single second once he had found him in that miserable interrogation room.

Face was glad to be back, and let Hannibal help him up the stairs to the master en-suite, sitting heavily on the toilet seat as the boss started running the bath. He sat in silence, just enjoying watching Hannibal potter around in the washroom, pouring bubble bath into the tub and mixing it up, feeling his eyes growing heavy with the stream of the room.

He suddenly realised that the boss was watching him as he nodded on the toilet seat and felt a tired smile spread over his face.

Hannibal shook his head and started peeling the blood soaked black jumper off him, taking care over the flesh wound on his arm and the massive bruise on the front and back of his rib cage where he was taken down by two police officers. “Can’t leave you alone for five minutes can I?” Hannibal asked, the mock exasperation clear in his voice.

Face grinned, “It’s all part of the plan, boss,” he whispered, tiredness creeping up on him with alarming speed. “If I can’t look after myself then you will never want to leave me on my own.”

The boss’ soft chuckle warmed his heart and he let himself be eased out of his jeans and socks, then finally his boxers before Hannibal gently helped him into the bath. He hissed as his various scrapes and bruises announced themselves in the water, then relaxed as the heat did its job and soothed him to the verge of sleep.

He was vaguely aware of Hannibal’s hands on him, a soft, soap lathered flannel taking away the grime and the dried blood but before he knew it, he was being shaken gently awake, and the boss was helping him to stand, wrapping him in soft towels and leading him to the bedroom.

Face was surprised to see that it was broad daylight outside and he squinted against the warm yellow sunshine as Hannibal rushed to draw the blinds. “What day is it?” he muttered, rubbing at his forehead to try and break up the pounding headache he still had.

“Saturday morning,” Hannibal replied once the room was in soothing darkness, “but don’t worry about it kid, you need some sleep, we both do, so get under the covers.”

Face didn’t need asking twice, he was barely awake as it was and hauled his aching limbs under the duvet, feeling Hannibal helping him in, smoothing the sheets down, covering him back up, and then sliding in, his own long, firm body like an anchor against the turbulence of the last few days. The last thing he was aware of before he slid off into sleep were strong arms pulling him close and a fierce kiss to his temple and then blessed emptiness.

_______________________

Face slept all through the day, and it was thick black night before he jerked wide awake, visions of himself in a bar, attempting to shoot at farm boys who were in turn trying to steal Piper’s daughters while BA chased after him with a noose for his neck, vivid in his mind. He swung his legs off the bed and sat with his feet flat on the floor and his head in his hands, concentrating on his breathing and trying to just calm the hell down a bit.

“Hey,” Hannibal’s voice, balm to his taut nerves sounded in his ear and he felt the boss slide in next to him, a hand on his shoulder pulling him close, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” Face was mortified to hear his voice shaking and he felt Hannibal’s arm tighten on him in response, “just a dream.”

“You want to talk about it?” Face shook his head and got to his feet and Hannibal wasn’t surprised, the kid rarely wanted to talk about his nightmares.

“I need a drink,” he said instead and headed off for the kitchen.

Hannibal followed him in silence and guided him to one of the tall stools at the breakfast bar before he started making sandwiches and pouring mango juice and letting Face have a bit of time to get his head together. “What time is it?” Face asked, completely disorientated by the last few days.

“23.15,” Hannibal replied as he pushed a sandwich over to Face and sat down opposite him with one of his own.

Face nodded and ate in silence and Hannibal ate as well, watching Face closely with every mouthful. When they had both finished, Hannibal cleared the plates and took them over to the huge wicker sofas that looked out at the dark ocean. He settled them both into the cushions, Face’s head in his lap, long legs stretched out in front of him and dragged a blanket off the back to throw over Face’s bare skin before he spoke the words that had been bubbling in his mind ever since Piper had put them there.

“You could have told me,” he spoke softly, not wanting Face to get defensive, “how you felt about killing.”

Face let out a long sigh and closed his eyes, letting his head sink heavily into Hannibal’s thighs. “I’m sorry, boss, I didn’t want to say anything to you until I was absolutely sure it was going to be a problem.”

Hannibal frowned, “And is it? I mean Piper said you were worried that you would freeze on a job, wouldn’t be able to pull the trigger, but... well...”

“I didn’t seem to have much trouble the other night did I?” There was a streak of dark amusement in his voice that made Hannibal uncomfortable.

“Look kid,” suddenly Hannibal’s hand was in his hair, smoothing and stroking and feeling like it was taking every bit of stress away with every touch, “I don't want to rush you, I want you to do the right thing for you here. I’m sorry I tried to push you into your own command, I’m sorry I wasn’t approachable enough for you to tell me how you were feeling.” Face opened his mouth to object at that point but Hannibal pressed his finger tip onto his lips, effectively silencing him. “I just want you to be happy kid, I really, really do. I will leave the army with you if that’s what you want, and we can go off and do something different together-”

“Hannibal,” Face sat up and twisted against his bruised ribs to look at his boss, “It’s okay. I’d never make you leave, I know how much this life means to you.”

“It doesn’t mean as much as you do,” Hannibal’s hand was on his cheek.

“I know, boss,” Face smiled at him, “and it will be okay, I’ll sort this in my head,” he took a deep breath; “I’m not leaving.” The relief on Hannibal’s face was so apparent that Face felt nothing but guilt at everything he had put him through this last week. “It seems that maybe I don’t find killing as hard as maybe my conscience would prefer...”

That dark humour was back and Hannibal frowned, pulling Face back to lie against his chest, “You didn’t kill anyone at that bar, Face. Piper says the dead gunman was killed by one of the others, and both the guys you popped are still alive. Hopefully they will be able to stand trial for what they’ve done.”

Face thought about that in silence for a few minutes. “Couldn’t save those two hostages though...”

“No.” Hannibal had seen the photos from the scene, the two dead bodies soaked in their own blood. “But goodness knows how many others you saved. Piper for one. I listened to the tapes of the calls you made, Face, if you’d left those numbskulls to deal with it, it would have been a bloodbath.” He’d also been warmed by Face‘s words to Schmidt, ’I spend my life training for situations like this, living situations like this, and I’ll tell you something, I’m fucking good at them, so why don’t you just do yourself and all these innocent hostages a favour and let me handle this?!’ Those words, more than anything else had given Hannibal the hope he’d needed that Face wasn’t going to turn his back on his life with the Rangers.

“And I shot Piper...”

Hannibal couldn’t help but let out a short chuckle as his hand slipped down to Face’s chest, toying idly with one of the warm brown nubs he found there. “Don’t worry about that, kiddo, Piper knows you did what you had to, and it was as clean as it could be, just flesh, no bone, no muscle, no major blood vessels. You did good.”

“Hmmm,” Hannibal could feel Face relaxing into him, his weight a delicious pressure against his own swelling cock.

Hannibal’s hand drifted to the other nipple now, gently teasing it to life. “In fact everything you did was good, Piper’s in awe of you, Russ is telling everyone who’ll listen your one of his...”

“And you?” Face’s voice was a breathy whisper and Hannibal knew without looking that his eyes were closed, his lips flushed and slightly parted.

“And me?” Hannibal slowly and purposefully reached down with both hands and folded the blanket back, smiling at the way Face’s sleep shorts were tented. “Well, I am so ridiculously proud of you,” he slid his fingers under the waistband of the shorts and lifted them up, over Face’s erection, and slid them down the leanly muscled thighs as far as he could reach. “And of course I love you,” Hannibal’s right index finger stretched out and trailed a teasing line down the smooth hot flesh in front of him as Face dropped his head, watching with wide eyes as the boss touched him. “And I’m so relieved you are safe...” He couldn’t say unhurt, not when his eyes could still see the dark blue bruising on his chest and the white dressing over his bicep, not when he’d seen his poor bruised face and the red welt around his neck, his swollen eye and bleeding mouth. But now he was in his arms and safe and that was as much as any of them could ever hope for at any one time.

“But do you want me?” Face whispered, his eyes fixed on the boss’ hand as just the very tips of his fingers ran up and down his eager cock.

Again Hannibal laughed and Face felt the twitch of a trapped erection beneath him. “You need to ask?” he replied. “Of course I want you. Every second of every day I want you, kid. In every possible place and circumstance and position. Always. You are all I ever want, you are my own personal addiction.” His hand slid properly into place now, fingers wrapping tight around hot flesh, Face’s moan of pleasure and relief shooting straight through to his groin.

“So, are you going to take me?”

Face’s voice was rough with need and Hannibal felt a surge of love for him, realising that he was drifting again, his ties had come loose and he needed Hannibal to reel him in once more, show him where he belonged, where his home was, who needed and wanted him, and Hannibal would do that for him, of course he would. Always. “Yes...” he whispered, feeling Face shudder against him as he slowly stroked up and down, thumb reaching up to rub across the smooth head and spread that little pearl of moisture out.

“How?”

Hannibal thought about this, thought about all the things they had done in their years together, all the things they still had left to try, and, more importantly, what Face needed tonight to make him feel secure. “I’m going to take you upstairs to the bedroom, and spread you out on the bed, and then I am going to touch you and love you all over your body until you are desperate in your need for me,”

“I’m desperate now,” Face interjected and Hannibal laughed again.

“Oh, this is nothing, dear boy, nothing at all...” he slid his free hand down onto Face’s balls and began to roll them gently in his fingers until Face was writhing in his grip, his ass grinding down onto Hannibal’s own raging erection. “And when you are ready I am going to push inside you, all the way, as deep as I can go and then I’m going to love you, slow and deep and hard and fast, taking it in turns until you don’t know what day it is...” Face tried to push himself up into Hannibal’s hand but Hannibal moved with him, keeping his strokes light. “And then I am going to make you come,” he whispered right into Face’s ear, “come all over yourself and all over me as I come right inside you. Would you like that?” Face nodded wordlessly, his hips twitching with every stroke of the boss’s hand. “You ready to move upstairs now?” he asked and again Face nodded but didn't move a muscle, not until Hannibal pushed him up, dragging his shorts back into place and adjusting his own pyjama bottoms to better accommodate his own erection. “Upstairs then,” he whispered, “and I want you on your back on that bed, naked and waiting for me when I get there, understand?”

Face just nodded once more, mouth dry and eyes wide and blown with arousal. Hannibal stroked his cheek with one finger and then smiled as he turned and started to lock up and turn the lights off for the night.

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