The Long and Winding Road Hannibal/Face Part 7

[indigo_angels]

 

The chopper was in the air for only five minutes and Hannibal was glad, he had no idea what was waiting for him at their destination and he really didn’t want to be too far away from his backup. He felt uneasy about all of this, it had gone down far, far too smoothly. He had expected Pacitto to take the money, but had also expected to be taken to Face as a prisoner, not just be free to leave like this. There was a hitch coming, he just knew it; both Pacitto and George were just too damn cheerful. He just hoped the tracking device was working okay, it was always a risk to swallow it, but he couldn’t take the chance that it would be found.

 

They touched down at the edge of a derelict housing estate in the Near North Side of Chicago and Hannibal recognised it as Cabrini Green, an estate once notorious for drugs and violence and now in the latter stages of complete demolition, by Hannibal noted from the signs, PSG Construction Ltd. Of course. 

 

The rotors of the chopper kept turning and George made no attempt to get out, instead he pulled his gun and waved Hannibal towards the door. “This is your stop, old man.”

 

Hannibal held his ground, “Where is he?”

 

George pointed to a high rise apartment building on their right, “In there. Ground floor. You can’t miss him.”

 

Glancing quickly in the direction George gestured, Hannibal noted the new signage and his heart sank, and there was the hitch. He clenched his fists, “How long ‘til it blows?”

 

Laughter filled the chopper, “Now where is the fun in that? You’d better get going though...”

 

Hannibal swore under his breath and jumped out of the chopper, ducking under the down draft and sprinting for the building where he hoped he’d find his lieutenant. At least now he understood why Pacitto was so keen to make a deal.

 

The doors had been removed and Hannibal skidded round the corner of the entrance hall as he heard the chopper take off. “Face!” he yelled as loud as he could, noting the sticks of explosives buried into the walls at strategic points. There was no answer to his shout so he tried again, “Face!” Still nothing.

 

He burst through the first door on his left and found himself in what must have been the building supervisor’s office. It was getting dark outside, thick black rain clouds not helping the situation and the lack of electricity in the building made it hard to see but after a quick look round, Hannibal drew a blank so ran across the corridor to try the first apartment.

 

The stench as he burst in hit him hard and he gagged as the mixed odours of urine and rats and vomit almost choked him. He jogged down the narrow entrance hall and kicked open the door to the bathroom, the bedroom, the kitchen, all coming up empty before he crashed into the main room at the end of the corridor and knew instantly he’d found him.

 

It was very dark, the boarded up windows just letting in tiny slivers of dim light from outside, but the smell was worse and the dark shape stretched out in the shadows under the window made Hannibal’s heart skip a beat. “Face!” he was on his knees next to that shape within seconds, beating down equal amounts of fury and despair as he took in the sight in front of him.

 

Face was laid on his front, head turned towards the wall. His arms were chained behind his back, one shoulder obviously dislocated, and then fastened tightly to the pipe which led from the radiator and disappeared under the floorboards. His naked body was a patchwork of colours, blood and bruising and filth covering every inch of him. Hannibal was shaking as he reached out a tentative hand to touch cold unresponsive flesh, “Face...”

 

There was still no reply and Hannibal steeled himself, taking a grip of Face’s arm, feeling his skin, wet with blood and something else, the smell of urine too strong for Hannibal to not be able to guess what, and slowly, gently, turned him from the wall, leaning over to get a look at his face.

 

He inhaled sharply as he did. Blood flowed from a gash in his hair line and covered one side of his face. One eye was swollen closed and more blood leaked from his nose, lip and ear. A murderous rage quietly built up inside Hannibal and he carefully stored it away. That would wait, this, unfortunately wouldn’t.

 

The chains wouldn’t let Face move any further so Hannibal gently laid him back on his stomach and slid his fingers around his neck, looking for that tell tale fluttering. It was there and warm relief flooded him as he gently tipped his lieutenant the other way, resting his back against the radiator and easing the pressure off his wrists. “Face...” he stroked his cheek, his forehead, anywhere he could see relatively unmarked skin, “C’mon kid, give me a sign or something here, tell me you can hear me.” He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced as it came away sticky with who knows what, “Face? It’s Hannibal, I’ve come for you kid, now come on, wake up.”

 

Face moaned and Hannibal’s pulse kicked up a notch. He rubbed his face gently, “Come on, open your eyes.”

 

Face’s eyes remained stubbornly closed but his parched lips moved, “Just kill me,” he whispered.

 

Those words had been heard by Hannibal countless times as he hauled his horrifically hung over lieutenant out of bed for early morning manoeuvres back in the army. But there was something about the cold and empty way they were delivered this rainy evening in Chicago that chilled Hannibal to his very marrow. Those utter bastards...

 

 “Face,” he tried again, but his words stuck in his throat.

 

“Hannibal?” Face’s voice was nothing but a slurred whisper but it sounded like the most beautiful sound in the world to Hannibal and he watched as Face cracked open his one good eye.

 

“Yeah, kid, I’m here.”

 

“Good. Thought I was gonna die.”

 

Hannibal’s stomach churned as Pacitto’s plan suddenly came clearly into focus. He’d said both he and Face were free to go, and that was certainly true in terms of there were no goons here to stop them. But the whole apartment block was rigged to blow and there was no way he could get Face’s chains off without some kind of cutting equipment, so what choice did that leave for him?

 

No choice, there’d never been a choice for him as far as Face was concerned.

 

 

Hannibal slid his coat off and draped it across Face’s chest and stomach. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light he could pick out numerous red wheals on Face’s skin, long lines, some bleeding, others not. He glanced behind him and saw long lengths of electrician’s wiring strewn all over the floor, some clearly marked with blood. There was also a concentration of splattered blood on the carpet directly under the light fitting and Hannibal had guessed they fastened him up there while they worked him over.

 

He forced his anger down and slid himself up against the wall, gently tipping Face’s head so it was leaning against his thigh. He slipped his arms under his jacket, tenderly wrapping his lieutenant up in an embrace, mindful of his flayed skin and the fact that he must have at least a few broken ribs.

 

“It’s good to see you, boss.”    

 

And suddenly everything that was going to happen was worth it, for that one sentence alone.

 

“Oh, it’s good to see you, kiddo. Just wish it was in slightly better circumstances.”

 

“Can’t get the chains off, huh?”

 

“No. But don’t worry; I’ve got a tracker on me. BA and Murdock will be here in no time and there are tools in the van. We’ll get you out.” The lie slipped easily from his lips and it seemed to be worth it as Face relaxed back into him, letting his head rest heavily on Hannibal’s leg. His eyes dropped closed and Hannibal lifted a finger to gently trace his jaw line, “Try and stay awake for me,” he whispered.

 

Face’s eyelid lifted immediately and his eye found Hannibal above him in the gloom, “I’m trying boss, but everything fucking hurts so much. It’s just easier.”

 

Again that sick feeling hit Hannibal’s stomach and he realised that the kid might just be right. Why should he know what was going to happen any moment now? Wouldn’t he be better off asleep? Oblivious to the death that awaited them?

 

“Okay then,” he leaned over and dropped a kiss to Face’s lips, “you sleep. I’ll stay here and just hold you.”

 

A slight frown touched Face’s forehead, “You not gonna order me to stay awake? Tell me I’m concussed and try and make me talk rubbish to keep me awake? That’s what you usually do.”

 

“It’s alright,” Hannibal stroked his face, “go to sleep.”

 

Suddenly Face stiffened and tried to sit up, hissing in pain as his injuries vied for his attention, “Oh, fuck, they’re blowing the building aren’t they?”

 

Hannibal took hold of his shoulders and tried to ease him back down, “Easy there Face, just relax. Here, lie down again.”

 

“Get off me!” Face yelled and tried to turn to Hannibal, “They told me they were going to blow it with me inside, you know this,” he glanced down at Hannibal’s free arms and legs, “You’re not chained up, what the fuck are you still doing in here?!”

 

It was obvious the game was up so Hannibal decided to go for honesty, “I’m not leaving you here, Face.”

 

“You’re not...” Face shook his head incredulously, “Get the fuck out of here, Hannibal, now!”

 

“No!” Hannibal met the fury in his face with his own, “I’m not leaving you to die!”

 

“So you think dying with me will make it better? Make it less permanent or hurt less? Get real!”

 

“Face,” Hannibal looked him right in the eye, “I always swore to you that I would never leave you behind, that we were a team for life,” he shook his head sadly, “and you’ve never believed me. Well, here’s your proof, I’m not leaving you alone here.”

 

“Aargh!” Face yelled out in fury, “You stubborn, self-righteous, bastard! You’d die just so you can prove me wrong?!”

 

Hannibal couldn’t believe that Face could misread him so easily, “No! I’d die just because I can’t ever bring myself to leave you!”

 

Face shook his head. “You. Need. To. Go. I already have Jessie’s death on my conscience; I don’t want to add yours to that list!”

 

Hannibal’s expression froze. Jessie. Of course. “I’m not leaving without you!”

 

“Well, you’re not leaving with me!” He rattled the chains significantly.

 

“BA and Murdock will come-”

 

“No they won’t! This place is a fucking rabbit warren and if you’ve swallowed that tracker it’s probably not working either, and if they do come don’t you realise you are just drawing them to their deaths too? When this place goes the rubble will flatten everything around!”

 

“Face-”

 

“No!” Face squirmed round onto his knees, the terror he felt for Hannibal gripping his heart so tightly it beat the pain into submission, “No more arguments, just leave!”

 

The coat fell off him, exposing his abused body to Hannibal’s eyes once more and that was too much for his CO to stand, “Face,” he reached out his hand, “I’m staying with you.”

 

Face was desperate now, the daylight outside was almost gone and he knew that they wouldn’t demolish the building in the dark. He had one more card to play. He looked Hannibal right in the eye and lowered his voice, forcing it to be calm and controlled. This had to work, it just had to. Hannibal couldn’t die.

 

“I don’t want you,” he whispered, watching carefully for signs his handiwork was being effective, “I’ve not wanted you for a long time. I told you that up in Montana, I came here to try and get away from you again, but you keep following me! What will it take to make you understand? I don’t love you, I don’t want you and I need you to leave me the hell alone!”

 

Hannibal was up on his feet by the end of Face’s tirade, breathing heavily and running a shaking hand through his hair, but he wasn’t leaving.

 

“Temp,” the tremor in his voice almost crushed Face where he knelt.

 

“GO!”

 

The sound of a van’s engine filled the room. Hannibal wrenched his eyes from Face’s and ran to the window, “It’s them,” he turned and sprinted from the room leaving Face kneeling up on trembling legs, the pain slowly reasserting its dominance. A mournful hooter suddenly sounded out across the demolition sight and Face knew that now he was too late to save any of them and that’s what sapped his last bit of strength; he crumpled to the floor as darkness swallowed him.

 

'Waiting for the end to come,

Wishing I had strength to stand,

This is not what I had planned,

It’s out of my control.’

 

 

They made it out by the skin of their teeth. Only BA’s brute strength was enough to rip the radiator from the wall when the bolt cutters wouldn’t cut through the chains. Hannibal was glad that Face was unconscious the whole time; otherwise the pressure on his dislocated shoulder would have been unbearable. The second he was free, Hannibal had hauled him into his arms and they had run to where Murdock was waiting for them in the van, engine revving, back doors open.

 

Hannibal almost threw Face inside and leaped in after him as BA followed behind and Murdock floored the gas pedal. The blast, when it came, almost lifted them off their wheels. BA had managed to slam the rear doors just in time, but Hannibal could hear chunks of masonry falling down on them like lethal hailstones as they sped away. More than once Murdock needed to swerve as huge chunks of twisted concrete landed in front of them, but still the plucky little van kept going.

 

They burst through the wire gates and onto the expressway just as the sky opened and huge, heavy raindrops started to fall.

 

Hannibal had been laid full length in the van as they made their mad getaway, wrapping Face’s body in his own to protect it from the bangs and jolts of the escape, but once they were on the expressway he was able to peel himself away and try to put Face in a more comfortable position. That was easier said than done however; the chains were still fastening his wrists behind his back and there would be no way to relocate his shoulder until they were gone.

 

“Man, he’s a mess,” BA muttered as he appeared at Hannibal’s side, thick blanket in his hands.

 

“Yeah,” Hannibal just didn’t know where to start, “We need to get these chains off him.”

 

BA muttered something in agreement and then clambered to the front of the van. Within moments, Murdock had replaced him, creeping cautiously to Hannibal’s side and placing a rather insubstantial looking First Aid kit into his hands. He didn’t speak, but Hannibal could see his own murderous rage reflected in his Captain’s eyes.

 

They drove for an hour and a half, stopping once at a hardware store BA noticed so they could buy a better set of bolt cutters, before following the directions of the Sat Nav straight up the driveway of a huge house standing right on the edge of Crystal Lake.

 

Hannibal didn’t even look up as the Sat Nav announced they had made their destination, but BA whistled in appreciation as they rolled up the drive, “Hey, good job Murdock! Whose house did you say this was?”

 

Murdock’s head popped up over his shoulder, “Jake Housman, you know that doctor guy from Afghanistan?”

 

“Yeah, I know him. You sure he’s cool about this?”

 

“No worries big guy, he’d owed me a favour. It’s all good.”

 

BA nodded, satisfied, as Murdock jumped out and retrieved the keys from under the mat, waving them proudly at BA before opening the garage and closing the doors behind the nondescript white van after it had edged in.

 

Conversation between the two of them was light but edgy as they opened the house up and checked out the different bedrooms. There was a large two bedded room with an en suite which they thought would be ideal for Face and BA headed back to the garage for Hannibal while Murdock started preparing the room.

 

The garage was silent and BA suffered a moment’s panic before he turned the corner and looked into the back of the van to find Hannibal sitting there, his back to where Face was huddled in blankets and a worryingly blank expression on his face.

 

“Boss?”

 

Hannibal seemed to snap to life and blinked at the garage as if he hadn’t realised where he was before, “Hey. You found a good room?”

 

“They all good,” BA answered as he opened the doors wide, “but we got a great one.” He paused with his hand on Hannibal’s shoulder, “You okay?”

 

Hannibal smiled at him, “Sure, BA, sure. Let’s get him inside.”

 

__________________________

 

 

It took them almost two hours before Face was settled in the middle of one of the huge, soft beds. Hannibal and BA had relocated his shoulder as he lay on the floor of the van to make it easier to carry him upstairs. By the time they reached the bedroom Murdock had the shower running and Hannibal stepped right in, fully clothed, holding Face upright against him.

 

Murdock stripped his top off and leaned in to the cubicle with them, gently soaping and cleaning as Hannibal stood, immobile as a rock, cradling Face’s head against his neck, keeping the water and soap out of his eyes and nose. It took twenty minutes until the water had stopped running rusty red and Murdock shut the spray off and in all that time Hannibal hadn’t spoken a word.

 

Murdock kept shooting him surreptitious little glances but he was always inscrutable, his eyes taking everything in, but emotion locked up somewhere out of sight. At the silence that followed the water shutting off, BA appeared in the doorway of the en-suite and took Face from Hannibal, carrying him as he would a child and lying him down in the nest of towels he had made in the bed.

 

Hannibal stripped off his wet clothes and wrapped himself in another towel as the three set about doing what they could for Face. Wounds were dressed or stitched, ribs were taped and anaesthetic cream applied to the angry red welts all over his body. BA hissed in surprise as he saw the bruising that stretched along Face’s left side from his ribs to his knee, but no one spoke unless absolutely necessary. Hannibal’s expression seemed to darken with every passing moment, something that was not lost on either Murdock or BA who kept exchanging concerned looks when he wasn’t watching.

 

And then they were done. BA had found a pair of pyjamas, shorts and t-shirt, which he knew wouldn’t offend Face’s fashion sense too much and Murdock gently lifted his friend’s limbs as BA carefully, carefully slid them on. They pulled the quilt up and dimmed the lights down just as the door clicked shut behind Hannibal leaving.

 

Murdock turned to BA immediately, “What the fuck is up with him?”

 

BA sank onto the other chair, “No idea man, been weird since I saw him in that apartment with Face.”

 

Murdock glanced at Face, then back to BA. “He always gets pissed when someone gets hurt, but... well, never like this. Not even for Face. You think...” he trailed off and BA lifted a curious eyebrow, “You know, you think they made him... watch?”

 

“Oh shit,” BA rubbed a tired hand over his face, “I dunno. I dunno what’s going on with these two anymore. Fed up of tryin’ to work it out. Givin’ me a headache.”

 

“Can’t see why they don’t just sort it out,” Murdock grumbled, a scowl creasing his face, “and I’m telling you, big guy, if Hannibal doesn’t fix it this time, as soon as Face is on his feet he’ll be outta that door all over. And I swear, if he does that, we’ll never see him again.”

 

As their eyes met, it was hard to tell whose expression was the bleakest.

 

Murdock sighed and patted BA on the shoulder, “Go get some sleep. I’ll sit with Face and we’ll let the Colonel, well, do whatever it is he’s gone off to do. Okay?”

 

Hauling his boots off, BA crawled up into the other bed, “Okay. I’ll do next shift. Wake me up,” and within minutes he was snoring.

 

Settled into the chair at the side of the bed, Murdock adjusted the ice pack over Face’s eye, and satisfied for now that he could do no more, curled his legs up under himself and watched the steady rise and fall of his friend’s chest.

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