Needing to Feel Part 4

[indigo_angels]

Hannibal burst into Colonel Croxton's quarters without knocking. He knew it was rude, but he sure as hell didn't care. “Where the fuck is Face?” he spat, leaning into Croxton's face as he spoke.

 

Dolph Croxton was three years older than Hannibal, but no one would ever have guessed. Every inch of the guy was hard, toned muscle. Even his face. Nothing about this guy was soft. Especially his personality
 

“Hannibal!” He twirled an olive on a stick round and round in his Martini glass as Hannibal glowered at him. It certainly said something for Croxton's balls that he didn't flinch a centimetre in the face of Hannibal's obvious fury. “I'm surprised you are back again, I thought we had covered everything that needed covering in our little chat last week?”

“We did,” Hannibal spat, “and I told you to stay the hell away from my lieutenant!”
 

“Hmmm, tricky...” Croxton spun his chair around so he know had his back to Hannibal, and rose, slowly to his feet, “See the problem is, old buddy, that I did keep away from him, just like you asked, but then, last night, he turned up here, practically begging me to send him out on a job. Said he was going crazy with boredom waiting for you...”

“He was on lock down...” Hannibal hissed through gritted teeth.

 

“Was he?!” Croxton's eyebrows rose in mock surprise, “Didn't know that. Wish I had, would have chased him straight back home again!”
 

Hannibal took in a deep breath, he didn't have time for this shit. “ Where is he Dolph?”
 

“Sorry, Hannibal,” Dolph smiled a cold, snake's smile at him. “Need to know basis. And you, old buddy, need to know jack shit!” He turned away, obviously pleased with how the meeting was going.
 

“We'll fucking see about 'need to know',” Hannibal muttered as he stalked off towards the door.
 

“Oh – Hannibal!” Croxton's voice stopped him in his tracks but he didn't turn back. “He's shit hot you know, your boy. He'll do anything, no fear, no idea when to stop, fucking awesome...” Hannibal curled his hands into fists. “And I want him in my unit. I asked him you know, after he did such a fucking fantastic job of that bike stunt,” Hannibal's pulse was thumping in his ears, “But he said no, said he'd rather stay with you.” Hannibal could imagine Croxton shaking his head in a stupid theatrical manner. “Wasn't so sure last night though,” a smirk was evident in his voice, “I reckon you sending him to his room like a naughty boy has pissed him off just enough to make him want to jump ship, Hannibal. Your loss – my fucking awesome gain!”
 

Hannibal took a deep breath and turned his head just enough to glare at Croxton. “No. Fucking. Way,” he hissed, every word loud and clear, “You will never get your hands on him Croxton, so just forget it!”

Croxton just laughed, “We'll see, Hannibal. You don't own him you know...”

 

Hannibal turned and left before he could get into another argument. He knew he didn't own Face – that was stupid. So why did he really feel like he wanted to?

  

It took a visit to Russ to sort it all out. He wasn't happy with Face ('fucking time bomb' was the phrase this time), but even less so with Croxton and by the time he had forced Dolph to tell Hannibal the details of the mission Face had been sent on, Croxton wasn't happy either.

As a matter of fact, Hannibal was furious as well. The grim satisfaction he had felt at watching Morrison chew Croxton out, evaporated the second that the details of Face's mission had been shared...

 ________________________
 

Murdock gripped the back of Hannibal's seat as they bounced along the dirt roads leading out from the camp.

“So, where are we going Boss man?” he yelled, “What's the plan?”

 

An open top Jeep wasn't the best place for discussing plans, but Hannibal had literally been too furious to speak when he got back from Croxton's quarters and swung by to pick up Murdock and BA. They had signed out the fastest vehicle they could find, and it was only once BA had left the compound far behind that Murdock felt he could risk asking Hannibal about the mission.
 

“Croxton has sent Face out to meet with an informant of his,” Hannibal's face was blank and carefully controlled, but his eyes were still blazing with fury so Murdock knew there was more to come.

“Well, that's not so bad, Boss...”

 

“On the road to Zahuk.”
 

There was a moment's silence as both BA and Murdock processed this fact before they simultaneously exploded.
 

“And people say I'm crazy!”

“Zahuk?! Man, Hannibal, what's he going there for?!” BA hit a pothole in the road as he glanced over at his CO, but he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Everyone knew about the road to Zahuk; the Marines had nicknamed it 'Kidnap Alley' for obvious reasons. And needless to say, those who were kidnapped from the road generally turned up in the middle of the desert. Minus their heads. Now Murdock knew why Hannibal was so furious.
 

“So,” Murdock leaned further over Hannibal's shoulder to be heard over the noise of the Jeep’s engine, “Why Zahuk, Hannibal?”

“Croxton says he's a great informant, but he's got a little twitchy lately. Thinks he's gonna get picked up and brought in. So he's trying to hide out in Zahuk.”
 

Murdock nodded. Well, he could see why the guy thought that, it certainly happened often enough. “But Face has gone in with the unit, yeah? Plenty of back up?”
 

Hannibal was squeezing the roll bars so tightly his knuckles were white. “He's gone in alone Captain. We're the back up.”
 

Murdock felt the air rush out of him and he slumped back in his seat. Face didn't stand a chance.

__________________
 

The plume of smoke drifting up from the bridge and the distant sounds of gunfire alerted the team to the trouble ahead. BA instantly swerved off road and started heading a course in from the west. Hannibal could see that he planned on using the scrubby trees bordering the road to try and get as close to whatever was going on without being spotted. Within two minutes they were as close as they could get and Hannibal jumped down from the Jeep whirling to speak to BA and Murdock as he landed.
 

“BA, stay with the Jeep, bring it in fast if I holler,” BA nodded as Hannibal turned to Murdock, “Take the right, Murdock, see what you can see, but do not engage without my word, okay?”
 

Murdock snapped off a quick salute and disappeared into the bushes as Hannibal grabbed his gun off his back and headed off towards a low hill to his left.
 

Night fell quickly in the desert and visibility was already failing as Hannibal pulled his night vision scope from his belt and tried to fasten it on as he ran up the incline. Gunfire sputtered sporadically from the other side of the hill and he doubled his pace, heart thumping hard against his ribs. There was always the chance that this was nothing to do with Face, that this was an internal spat between insurgents or even a patrol caught out in the twilight. But Hannibal doubted that, somehow he just knew this had everything to do with Face.
 

He reached the top of the hill and threw himself down on the rocky ground quickly scoping out the area below. He yanked the night scope off again as, miracle of miracles, the street lights were actually working, a rare occurrence in these parts, and the dull orange lights lit up a scene of carnage below him.
 

There was a bridge spanning a dark gully, it was impossible to see what lay in its depths, but Hannibal knew it was a slow and turgid river, occasionally dry when the weather was particularly hot. He could see a car on its roof in the middle of the bridge surrounded by three Jeeps abandoned at angles all around it. As Hannibal squinted against the street lights and tried to work out what was going on, a figure suddenly broke clear from the upturned car and sprinted towards one of the Jeeps Hannibal was instantly on his feet as fresh shots rang out in the night; the running figure had been Face, he was sure of it. The ground on this side of the hill was loose, rocky scree and Hannibal began to slide down the escarpment on his backside, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on the melee on the bridge.

The gunshots kept exploding into the night, but Face kept running until he lifted his gun and shot the driver of the Jeep, just as he had raised his gun to shoot at Face. Arabic shouts rang out as he yanked the body out of the way and dived into the driver's seat himself Hannibal was on flat ground now, but kept stumbling as he ran, trying to watch the action on the bridge instead of his feet. Face had obviously been trying to start the car, but as Murphy's Law will always predict, it wouldn't cooperate. Hannibal had scoped the other guys from the other cars moving in, closing Face down and cutting off his exit routes. Fear gnawed at Hannibal's spine as he forced himself to run faster. He wasn't near enough to help yet, but just a few more seconds and he would be, a few more, a few more...

 

Suddenly one of the guys from the Jeeps made a break for it, charging Face's position, yelling as he went. There was one shot from Face's Jeep that obviously missed its mark and then no more. Hannibal was frantic, wondering why Face wasn't shooting the attacker, wondering why he wasn't driving off, wondering what the fuck was going on and why he couldn't run any damn faster! Suddenly, just as Face's assailant was only metres away from the Jeep, the passenger door burst open and Face flew out. Gunshots followed him as he ran and Hannibal tried to work out what he was doing. And then it hit him – Face was going for the edge of the bridge.
 

Hannibal knew he was just about in range now, still a little touch and go, but what the hell. He opened fire, blasting at the guys who were blasting at Face and getting them too. But still Face ran. Of course he would Hannibal reasoned later, he didn't know who was shooting, how could he tell that help had arrived in the nick of time? As far as he was concerned, he was running for his life. And then he jumped.

 

“Shit!” Hannibal saw Murdock appear off to his left and left the captain to watch his back as he threw his gun down and sprinted to the edge of the bridge just in time to see Face disappear into the black nothingness of the gully.