(Untitled So Far) - Part One
Sep. 19th, 2011 08:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
indigo_angelsSo, the start of a new fic! No title as of yet, and no synopsis, as I don't want to spoil the surprise. I should be more informative by Part Two! But - I will say, movie!verse, post movie, whole team fic with a slice of Hannibal and Face on the side!
_____________________________
The apartment wasn’t huge, but it was a decent size. A great view out over Central Park, a balcony that was just about large enough to jam a chair on as long as you didn’t mind your legs rammed up against the low wall, one bedroom, one bathroom. But the bedroom did have a queen sized bed, and the bathroom did have a sunken tub, so you certainly couldn’t complain.
Not that the current occupier was much interested in any of that at the moment, she was far too engrossed in the Fox News Special that was playing on her flat screen TV. It wasn’t the type of program she would ever consider watching normally, but as she’d flicked through the channels, a face had caught her eye and she’d paused. A smiling man, maybe mid thirties, bright, bright blue eyes, army uniform - handsome just didn’t begin to cover it. So she had sat back, curious, wondering what it was about that particular handsome face that had caught her eye.
It wasn’t like she didn’t have her own stream of handsome faces through this very apartment, through her bed, so why that one? He was towards the younger end of her preferred spectrum, but certainly not too young, she may well be in her fifties, but she knew she could still pull them in, and she would certainly like to pull that one in if she could.
She watched for a few minutes longer, her attention wandering as the focus of the program shifted to another man, a Texan, wild look in his eyes, and she realised that she was actually watching a feature on escaped felons, certainly not something she would be interested in and so snapped the TV off, heading to the bathroom to get ready for her night out.
__________________
It was hours later when it came to her. She honestly hadn’t given the good looking man from the TV a second thought as she’d been wined and dined in one of New York’s fanciest restaurants. Obviously she’d not thought about him as her date for the evening rode in her taxi on the way back to her apartment, his hand creeping further and further up her knee with every passing block. And of course, he was the furthest thing from her mind as the evening came to its usual carnal end in her bed, although maybe if she had remembered him at the right time, her orgasm might have been a little more impressive.
As it was, however, it was as her date was snoring next to her and she was finally starting to drift off herself, that a sudden and rather startling thought popped into her head. She hadn’t been thinking of the handsome man from Fox News, she hadn’t even been thinking of handsome men in general; no, her thoughts had run on to her hair appointment the following afternoon and whether or not she should get her nails done at the same time when suddenly it was there.
Those blue eyes abruptly appeared in her mind’s eye and she only had a very brief moment to admire them before she realised why she’d been so taken with them, where she’d seen them before. She tensed in the bed, suddenly too hot and too cold all at the same time, her heart thumping and her dinner churning uncomfortably in her stomach. She sat up, holding her head in her hands as the realisation of what this meant hit her with the force of a steam train. Mental arithmetic had never been her strong point, but even through the shock and the wine she could do this math very easily.
For the first time in thirty years she wished for a photograph, something she could check up against, maybe put her mind at rest, but deep down, she knew she didn’t need one. She just knew. She shook her head, shaking now, wishing she was alone, and knew she needed to know for definite the facts of this unpleasant situation she found herself in. Adverse publicity could come so easily through this, and really, given her circumstances, that was the last thing she needed. If the facts were what she suspected them to be, she would have to take action to cover her tracks, could not do with her past coming up to haunt her now.
She lay awake as the night wore on, and by the morning had a plan. She hoped her old friend Eddie Charing was still in the Private Detective business, she needed to call in a favour.
_____________________________________________
Los Angeles, four months later...
“You sure about this bossman?” BA himself wasn’t at all sure, the whole thing just felt wrong, exposed, Hannibal walking into a meet like that completely on his own, no back up... wrong on every level.
Hannibal sighed but managed to crack a smile for his corporal, “I’ve told you big guy, it will be fine. If it was a set up, then the army would be after more than just me, right? They’d want us all. It’s fine.”
BA shook his head, less than convinced.
“And anyway,” Hannibal leaned forward in his seat for a better look at the cafe across the street, “I’ve got a wire on, and you’ve got my back right?”
BA shook his head again and folded his arms.
“We’re on,” Hannibal’s voice was suddenly all business, “that’s her. Everything working okay?”
BA swivelled his seat around and fitted a pair of headphones on over his ears, giving Hannibal a thumbs up as he flicked a couple of switches and turned a dial. Hannibal clapped him on the back, and then opened the door, stepping out into the bright morning sunshine.
As he walked across the road with one eye on the slow rush hour traffic, he took the opportunity to weigh up his appointment for the morning. She was, at this very moment, looking in a compact mirror, and touching up her hair and makeup. He shook his head, it was 8.15am, how long had she had that makeup on? Surely she wasn’t in desperate need of touch up yet? He figured her for late forties; she was certainly striking, nice figure, blonde shoulder length hair, soft curls catching the sunlight. But there was something, maybe the way she held herself, maybe the way she was still looking in that damn mirror, that made him uneasy.
She looked up as he entered the terrace, recognition in her grey eyes at once and she finally snapped the mirror shut, slipping it into her purse and rising smoothly to her feet, one perfectly manicured hand reaching out for his.
Hannibal shook it, surprised at the strength of that hold, and slid into the seat opposite her watching her every move, despite his assurances to BA, hyper aware of the possibility of this being a trap.
“Colonel Smith, so good of you to come, and alone as I had requested. I’m so grateful.”
Hannibal nodded as he helped himself to coffee from the carafe she had pushed his way. “Ms. Armando. This is not the way I usually do business and so I would appreciate you getting to point very quickly.”
He noted the flash of anger as it crossed her face, but within a second it was gone, a smooth mask of politeness in its place. “Of course. You are a busy man, and I appreciate that someone in your position can never be too careful.”
She took a sip of black coffee and Hannibal took the opportunity to study her more carefully. She was beautiful, perfectly balanced features, wide expressive eyes, but up close he could see that she was older than he had first assumed, maybe early to mid fifties, but no evidence of any cosmetic work done – almost unheard of in a woman of her age in Los Angeles. Naturally beautiful. “So?” he prompted her again.
Placing her cup gently down on its saucer she sighed and studied the table cloth for a long minute before eventually looking back up and Hannibal was startled to see tears standing in her eyes. “Colonel Smith,” she said at last in a quiet, faltering voice, “I’m afraid I haven’t been exactly honest with you...”
In his mind’s eye, Hannibal could see BA back in the van, flicking the safety off his gun and getting ready to storm to Hannibal’s rescue, the ‘told you so’ already forming on his lips. He let out an irritated sigh. “You don't want to hire us?”
“No,” she admitted quietly and Hannibal started to stand up. “But wait!” that perfectly manicured hand was out again, reaching for his wrist, “I do need your help!” He paused, half out of his seat and looked into her wide grey eyes, swimming in tears. He sighed, it was obvious that whatever was going on, she was certainly upset by it all; he made his decision and slowly sat back down again. “Thank you,” she whispered and dabbed delicately at the corners of her eyes with a linen handkerchief before reaching into her purse and pulling out a photograph.
She looked at it for a minute, holding it where Hannibal couldn’t see it, smiling at whatever she saw, one finger reaching out and touching the face in front of her before she seemed to realise that Hannibal was still there and she made a visible effort to pull herself together, sitting up straighter and placing the photo on the table, sliding it over towards Hannibal. “I think you know this man,” she said, just the slightest tremor noticeable in her voice.
Hannibal glanced down and felt his stomach twist as he found himself looking at Face. The picture was about two years old, taken just before the damn plates debacle, Face looking confident and relaxed in his dress uniform, one of the photographs that had been circulated to the press on their escape.
“His name is Daniel Arthur Ellis,” she said and Hannibal looked back up in confusion. Their eyes met. “He’s my son.”
The silence stretched into long minutes as Hannibal looked at the picture in his hands and then back up at the woman in front of him. It was definitely there, he could certainly see it, the resemblance between them. It wasn’t at all striking but now he’d had it pointed out, it was certainly a possibility, the shape of their eyes, skin tone, even hair colour, similar enough to make them related, not that Hannibal looked like either of his parents mind you. But it was more than any of that, more than anything specific. It was the way that they both had this... luminescence about them, something that made them noticed as soon as they walked into a room. Face had it, it had grabbed Hannibal’s attention the second the kid had stepped off the troop carrier in the Kuwaiti desert, and Adele Armando had it as well, Hannibal had already logged all the stares she was getting as she sat and sipped her coffee, watching him carefully.
“How do I know you are telling the truth?” Hannibal eventually replied, impressed with the steadiness of his voice.
Adele held his eyes, “Why would I lie, Colonel Smith? What possible motive would I have to align myself with a federal fugitive? What could I hope to gain by admitting that my son, my own flesh and blood, is a convicted criminal?”
Hannibal stiffened, “He’s done nothing wrong except stay free. We were framed.”
“I know,” Adele soothed him. “You have no need to convince me, but that’s what the world will think, isn’t it? He’s hardly catch of the day,” she caught Hannibal’s frown, “In the eyes of the world, of course, not in mine.”
He watched her carefully, weighing her up. “So, you don’t have any proof?”
She shook her head, sadness etched across her features. “I have nothing at all of his, not even a photograph; I had to leave it all behind just as I left him,” the handkerchief was out once more, dabbing at her eyes.
Remaining unmoved, Hannibal folded his arms, “Perhaps you’d like to tell me about that time then? Why you left in the first place?”
Hard grey eyes lifted to his, “If it is all the same with you, Colonel Smith, I would prefer to have that conversation with Danny.”
Again that twist in his stomach and Hannibal looked down at the photograph in front of him, Danny... His eyes flicked back up. “And yet you asked to see me, alone, and not Face, so why was that?”
Adele looked down at the wedding ring she was twisting around and around her finger as she answered him, “I know this will be a shock to him, having me turn up like this, after not seeing him for so long. I bet he hardly remembers me...”
’He doesn’t remember you at all,’ Hannibal wanted to say, but he knew he had to keep what little information there was about Face’s past close to his chest; if she was an imposter then it would make it that much easier to spot. “And so where do I come into this then?” he asked again.
“I was hoping you would smooth the way for me,” she said, her eyes, pleading now as they locked with his. “You were his commanding officer in the army, if you told him to do something, I’m sure he still would.”
Hannibal frowned, “I won’t be telling him to do anything. He’s a grown man; if anything happens here it will be down to him!”
Adele looked suitably shamefaced, “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just still so hard to think of him as anything more than the little boy I left behind.”
Taking a deep breath to damp down his anger, Hannibal tried again. “Look, Ms Armando,”
“It’s actually Mrs., but please, call me Adele,”
“Adele,” Hannibal corrected, “Face is part of my team, and due to our current situation, we tend to stick up for each other, watch each other’s backs.”
“Of course, and I’m just so glad that Danny has people like that who can look out for him.”
“And so,” Hannibal continued, “I won’t be relaying any of this meeting to him, unless you can give me one thing that makes me think you are in the slightest bit genuine.”
That flash of anger was there again, hastily hidden once more. “Alright,” she conceded, eyes on the table, “what do you want?”
Hannibal leant in, “Some facts,” he replied. “Nothing in depth, nothing you would want to save to talk to Face about, just something that makes me believe your story.”
Her eyes met his once more and they looked at each other for thirty seconds without speaking. Eventually, Adele sighed. “I had Danny when I was eighteen. I was unmarried and the two of us lived in Los Angeles for a while.”
She stopped and took a mouthful of coffee as Hannibal waited in silence for her to continue. “But then I had a change of circumstance...”
“A change of circumstance?” Hannibal asked, one eyebrow raised at her.
“Yes!” she snapped, twisting her ring again.
“And so?”
A long sigh reached him from the other side of the table, “So, I left him at a Catholic Orphanage in downtown LA and left town. I haven’t been back since.”
Silence fell as Hannibal sat stunned, absorbed how the entire story of Face’s early years could be condensed in to four sentences by the woman claiming to be his mother; he doubted there were many mothers on the planet who could have done that as efficiently – and coldly.
“Which Orphanage?” he asked shortly.
“Our Lady of the Sacred Heart Orphanage on Tylery Road.”
Now Hannibal frowned, that wasn’t the orphanage where Face grew up, but then he knew that the kid had moved around a fair bit to begin with so that didn’t really disprove anything. “How old was he?”
“Four and a half,” Adele answered immediately and although she dabbed at her eyes once more, Hannibal couldn’t help noticing the steadiness to her voice.
“And...” Hannibal wasn’t sure how to phrase this next question, “did he talk?”
For the first time in their meeting, Adele looked slightly wrong footed, “Did he talk? Of course he talked, all the damn time,” she offered up a tight smile, “I have already told you he was coming up five; I appreciate your interaction with children must be limited Colonel, but five year olds talk.”
Hannibal took a mouthful of coffee, ‘Not this one,’ he thought to himself. Father Maghill had told Hannibal once that Face hadn’t uttered a single word until he’d been in the orphanage system for just over a year. The staff had worried that he was mute, but one day, completely out of the blue, he just started talking once more. But by then, of course, he couldn’t remember anything of his previous life, not even his name. He looked down at the photograph in front of him again, Daniel Arthur Ellis; he had to admit, it suited him.
Silence spread over the table as Hannibal considered the information overload he’d been subjected to in the last twenty minutes. Did he believe her or not? What she’d said was true, what was there to gain from inventing a relationship to an almost penniless fugitive of the law? What could she possibly reap from making a claim like this erroneously?
“So why now?” Hannibal asked. “You left him with nothing, never came back for him. Why now?”
“I did not leave him with nothing.” The spite in her voice was surprising. “I made sure he had everything he could possibly have wanted, people who would clothe him, feed him, send him to school.”
“Everything but a family to love him,” Hannibal interjected smoothly and if he’d been concerned at all about upsetting Adele, he needn’t have worried as that anger was back, not hidden away this time.
“Families aren’t all they are cracked up to be, Colonel Smith. I have managed just fine without one and so has he.”
Biting back the retort that Hannibal really wanted to make, about how the hell she would know the first thing about how Face had managed, he instead prompted, “So, why now?”
Adele glanced down and the handkerchief was back as were the tears. “Just because I never went back, doesn’t mean I didn’t think about him, every single day we were apart. Birthdays, Christmas, Mother’s Day, they were always the worst...” she trailed off into a sob and Hannibal realised that, yet again, his question had remained unanswered.
“So why now?” he repeated.
Adele heaved a sigh and went back to her eye dabbing. “Because I thought he was better off without me. I was a danger to him, and he didn’t need me coming into his life, disrupting it all.” A slight smile quirked the corner of her mouth, “I’d always thought he was going to be clever, would go to college, be a doctor or a scientist, something like that,” the smile dropped slightly. “I never dreamed he would join the army, end up in prison and then on the run...” she shook her head, “My own son, I’d always hoped he would turn into something brilliant.”
Hannibal had had to force himself to stay quiet during that little speech, but now she had finished, his mouth could not be controlled any longer. “He is brilliant,” he whispered, his own edge of anger to the words, “at anything and everything he does. Any woman should be proud to have him as her son.”
“Oh, you misunderstand me!” Adele countered, her eyes wide and injured, “I am proud of him, very, very proud. But that’s why I am contacting him now. I’d always thought he was better off without me, but now I see what has happened to his life,” she shook her head sadly, “well, now I know he needs me now, more than ever before. That’s why I’ve come back.”
Again Hannibal mulled this over, watching this woman in front of him and realised that his mind had already been made up, she was either the most gifted con woman he had ever met, or she was indeed Face’s mother. And knowing Face, both might actually be true.
Adele had been watching him back, waiting for that little sign in his face that she now thought she saw. “You believe me,” she said, smiling warmly at him,” I’m so pleased. Does that mean you will now arrange a meeting for us?”
Pushing away his coffee cup, Hannibal leaned over the table towards her, pressing his fingers together. “I will talk to him,” he replied, “I will tell him what you have told me, and I will suggest a meeting to him. That’s all I will do. And if he says no,” he shrugged, “he says no.”
“Well that would be a shame,” Adele responded. “I thought he would like to have a family again after all this time. I’m a widow now, but my husband had children of his own and now they too have children, there is an entire instant family out there - just waiting for him.”
Hannibal leant back, “He’s a grown man,” he repeated, “can make his own decisions.”
Adele looked at him for a moment, and Hannibal could almost see the cogs in her mind turning. “Okay, then,” she eventually answered, “I will leave it in your more than capable hands.” She stood smoothly from her seat and held her hand out once more, “Pleasure to meet you.”
Rising slightly as well, Hannibal shook the proffered hand firmly, “I’ll be in touch,” he promised and she nodded slightly before turning and walking out of the terrace, admiring glances following her the entire way.
Next
_____________________________
The apartment wasn’t huge, but it was a decent size. A great view out over Central Park, a balcony that was just about large enough to jam a chair on as long as you didn’t mind your legs rammed up against the low wall, one bedroom, one bathroom. But the bedroom did have a queen sized bed, and the bathroom did have a sunken tub, so you certainly couldn’t complain.
Not that the current occupier was much interested in any of that at the moment, she was far too engrossed in the Fox News Special that was playing on her flat screen TV. It wasn’t the type of program she would ever consider watching normally, but as she’d flicked through the channels, a face had caught her eye and she’d paused. A smiling man, maybe mid thirties, bright, bright blue eyes, army uniform - handsome just didn’t begin to cover it. So she had sat back, curious, wondering what it was about that particular handsome face that had caught her eye.
It wasn’t like she didn’t have her own stream of handsome faces through this very apartment, through her bed, so why that one? He was towards the younger end of her preferred spectrum, but certainly not too young, she may well be in her fifties, but she knew she could still pull them in, and she would certainly like to pull that one in if she could.
She watched for a few minutes longer, her attention wandering as the focus of the program shifted to another man, a Texan, wild look in his eyes, and she realised that she was actually watching a feature on escaped felons, certainly not something she would be interested in and so snapped the TV off, heading to the bathroom to get ready for her night out.
__________________
It was hours later when it came to her. She honestly hadn’t given the good looking man from the TV a second thought as she’d been wined and dined in one of New York’s fanciest restaurants. Obviously she’d not thought about him as her date for the evening rode in her taxi on the way back to her apartment, his hand creeping further and further up her knee with every passing block. And of course, he was the furthest thing from her mind as the evening came to its usual carnal end in her bed, although maybe if she had remembered him at the right time, her orgasm might have been a little more impressive.
As it was, however, it was as her date was snoring next to her and she was finally starting to drift off herself, that a sudden and rather startling thought popped into her head. She hadn’t been thinking of the handsome man from Fox News, she hadn’t even been thinking of handsome men in general; no, her thoughts had run on to her hair appointment the following afternoon and whether or not she should get her nails done at the same time when suddenly it was there.
Those blue eyes abruptly appeared in her mind’s eye and she only had a very brief moment to admire them before she realised why she’d been so taken with them, where she’d seen them before. She tensed in the bed, suddenly too hot and too cold all at the same time, her heart thumping and her dinner churning uncomfortably in her stomach. She sat up, holding her head in her hands as the realisation of what this meant hit her with the force of a steam train. Mental arithmetic had never been her strong point, but even through the shock and the wine she could do this math very easily.
For the first time in thirty years she wished for a photograph, something she could check up against, maybe put her mind at rest, but deep down, she knew she didn’t need one. She just knew. She shook her head, shaking now, wishing she was alone, and knew she needed to know for definite the facts of this unpleasant situation she found herself in. Adverse publicity could come so easily through this, and really, given her circumstances, that was the last thing she needed. If the facts were what she suspected them to be, she would have to take action to cover her tracks, could not do with her past coming up to haunt her now.
She lay awake as the night wore on, and by the morning had a plan. She hoped her old friend Eddie Charing was still in the Private Detective business, she needed to call in a favour.
_____________________________________________
Los Angeles, four months later...
“You sure about this bossman?” BA himself wasn’t at all sure, the whole thing just felt wrong, exposed, Hannibal walking into a meet like that completely on his own, no back up... wrong on every level.
Hannibal sighed but managed to crack a smile for his corporal, “I’ve told you big guy, it will be fine. If it was a set up, then the army would be after more than just me, right? They’d want us all. It’s fine.”
BA shook his head, less than convinced.
“And anyway,” Hannibal leaned forward in his seat for a better look at the cafe across the street, “I’ve got a wire on, and you’ve got my back right?”
BA shook his head again and folded his arms.
“We’re on,” Hannibal’s voice was suddenly all business, “that’s her. Everything working okay?”
BA swivelled his seat around and fitted a pair of headphones on over his ears, giving Hannibal a thumbs up as he flicked a couple of switches and turned a dial. Hannibal clapped him on the back, and then opened the door, stepping out into the bright morning sunshine.
As he walked across the road with one eye on the slow rush hour traffic, he took the opportunity to weigh up his appointment for the morning. She was, at this very moment, looking in a compact mirror, and touching up her hair and makeup. He shook his head, it was 8.15am, how long had she had that makeup on? Surely she wasn’t in desperate need of touch up yet? He figured her for late forties; she was certainly striking, nice figure, blonde shoulder length hair, soft curls catching the sunlight. But there was something, maybe the way she held herself, maybe the way she was still looking in that damn mirror, that made him uneasy.
She looked up as he entered the terrace, recognition in her grey eyes at once and she finally snapped the mirror shut, slipping it into her purse and rising smoothly to her feet, one perfectly manicured hand reaching out for his.
Hannibal shook it, surprised at the strength of that hold, and slid into the seat opposite her watching her every move, despite his assurances to BA, hyper aware of the possibility of this being a trap.
“Colonel Smith, so good of you to come, and alone as I had requested. I’m so grateful.”
Hannibal nodded as he helped himself to coffee from the carafe she had pushed his way. “Ms. Armando. This is not the way I usually do business and so I would appreciate you getting to point very quickly.”
He noted the flash of anger as it crossed her face, but within a second it was gone, a smooth mask of politeness in its place. “Of course. You are a busy man, and I appreciate that someone in your position can never be too careful.”
She took a sip of black coffee and Hannibal took the opportunity to study her more carefully. She was beautiful, perfectly balanced features, wide expressive eyes, but up close he could see that she was older than he had first assumed, maybe early to mid fifties, but no evidence of any cosmetic work done – almost unheard of in a woman of her age in Los Angeles. Naturally beautiful. “So?” he prompted her again.
Placing her cup gently down on its saucer she sighed and studied the table cloth for a long minute before eventually looking back up and Hannibal was startled to see tears standing in her eyes. “Colonel Smith,” she said at last in a quiet, faltering voice, “I’m afraid I haven’t been exactly honest with you...”
In his mind’s eye, Hannibal could see BA back in the van, flicking the safety off his gun and getting ready to storm to Hannibal’s rescue, the ‘told you so’ already forming on his lips. He let out an irritated sigh. “You don't want to hire us?”
“No,” she admitted quietly and Hannibal started to stand up. “But wait!” that perfectly manicured hand was out again, reaching for his wrist, “I do need your help!” He paused, half out of his seat and looked into her wide grey eyes, swimming in tears. He sighed, it was obvious that whatever was going on, she was certainly upset by it all; he made his decision and slowly sat back down again. “Thank you,” she whispered and dabbed delicately at the corners of her eyes with a linen handkerchief before reaching into her purse and pulling out a photograph.
She looked at it for a minute, holding it where Hannibal couldn’t see it, smiling at whatever she saw, one finger reaching out and touching the face in front of her before she seemed to realise that Hannibal was still there and she made a visible effort to pull herself together, sitting up straighter and placing the photo on the table, sliding it over towards Hannibal. “I think you know this man,” she said, just the slightest tremor noticeable in her voice.
Hannibal glanced down and felt his stomach twist as he found himself looking at Face. The picture was about two years old, taken just before the damn plates debacle, Face looking confident and relaxed in his dress uniform, one of the photographs that had been circulated to the press on their escape.
“His name is Daniel Arthur Ellis,” she said and Hannibal looked back up in confusion. Their eyes met. “He’s my son.”
The silence stretched into long minutes as Hannibal looked at the picture in his hands and then back up at the woman in front of him. It was definitely there, he could certainly see it, the resemblance between them. It wasn’t at all striking but now he’d had it pointed out, it was certainly a possibility, the shape of their eyes, skin tone, even hair colour, similar enough to make them related, not that Hannibal looked like either of his parents mind you. But it was more than any of that, more than anything specific. It was the way that they both had this... luminescence about them, something that made them noticed as soon as they walked into a room. Face had it, it had grabbed Hannibal’s attention the second the kid had stepped off the troop carrier in the Kuwaiti desert, and Adele Armando had it as well, Hannibal had already logged all the stares she was getting as she sat and sipped her coffee, watching him carefully.
“How do I know you are telling the truth?” Hannibal eventually replied, impressed with the steadiness of his voice.
Adele held his eyes, “Why would I lie, Colonel Smith? What possible motive would I have to align myself with a federal fugitive? What could I hope to gain by admitting that my son, my own flesh and blood, is a convicted criminal?”
Hannibal stiffened, “He’s done nothing wrong except stay free. We were framed.”
“I know,” Adele soothed him. “You have no need to convince me, but that’s what the world will think, isn’t it? He’s hardly catch of the day,” she caught Hannibal’s frown, “In the eyes of the world, of course, not in mine.”
He watched her carefully, weighing her up. “So, you don’t have any proof?”
She shook her head, sadness etched across her features. “I have nothing at all of his, not even a photograph; I had to leave it all behind just as I left him,” the handkerchief was out once more, dabbing at her eyes.
Remaining unmoved, Hannibal folded his arms, “Perhaps you’d like to tell me about that time then? Why you left in the first place?”
Hard grey eyes lifted to his, “If it is all the same with you, Colonel Smith, I would prefer to have that conversation with Danny.”
Again that twist in his stomach and Hannibal looked down at the photograph in front of him, Danny... His eyes flicked back up. “And yet you asked to see me, alone, and not Face, so why was that?”
Adele looked down at the wedding ring she was twisting around and around her finger as she answered him, “I know this will be a shock to him, having me turn up like this, after not seeing him for so long. I bet he hardly remembers me...”
’He doesn’t remember you at all,’ Hannibal wanted to say, but he knew he had to keep what little information there was about Face’s past close to his chest; if she was an imposter then it would make it that much easier to spot. “And so where do I come into this then?” he asked again.
“I was hoping you would smooth the way for me,” she said, her eyes, pleading now as they locked with his. “You were his commanding officer in the army, if you told him to do something, I’m sure he still would.”
Hannibal frowned, “I won’t be telling him to do anything. He’s a grown man; if anything happens here it will be down to him!”
Adele looked suitably shamefaced, “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just still so hard to think of him as anything more than the little boy I left behind.”
Taking a deep breath to damp down his anger, Hannibal tried again. “Look, Ms Armando,”
“It’s actually Mrs., but please, call me Adele,”
“Adele,” Hannibal corrected, “Face is part of my team, and due to our current situation, we tend to stick up for each other, watch each other’s backs.”
“Of course, and I’m just so glad that Danny has people like that who can look out for him.”
“And so,” Hannibal continued, “I won’t be relaying any of this meeting to him, unless you can give me one thing that makes me think you are in the slightest bit genuine.”
That flash of anger was there again, hastily hidden once more. “Alright,” she conceded, eyes on the table, “what do you want?”
Hannibal leant in, “Some facts,” he replied. “Nothing in depth, nothing you would want to save to talk to Face about, just something that makes me believe your story.”
Her eyes met his once more and they looked at each other for thirty seconds without speaking. Eventually, Adele sighed. “I had Danny when I was eighteen. I was unmarried and the two of us lived in Los Angeles for a while.”
She stopped and took a mouthful of coffee as Hannibal waited in silence for her to continue. “But then I had a change of circumstance...”
“A change of circumstance?” Hannibal asked, one eyebrow raised at her.
“Yes!” she snapped, twisting her ring again.
“And so?”
A long sigh reached him from the other side of the table, “So, I left him at a Catholic Orphanage in downtown LA and left town. I haven’t been back since.”
Silence fell as Hannibal sat stunned, absorbed how the entire story of Face’s early years could be condensed in to four sentences by the woman claiming to be his mother; he doubted there were many mothers on the planet who could have done that as efficiently – and coldly.
“Which Orphanage?” he asked shortly.
“Our Lady of the Sacred Heart Orphanage on Tylery Road.”
Now Hannibal frowned, that wasn’t the orphanage where Face grew up, but then he knew that the kid had moved around a fair bit to begin with so that didn’t really disprove anything. “How old was he?”
“Four and a half,” Adele answered immediately and although she dabbed at her eyes once more, Hannibal couldn’t help noticing the steadiness to her voice.
“And...” Hannibal wasn’t sure how to phrase this next question, “did he talk?”
For the first time in their meeting, Adele looked slightly wrong footed, “Did he talk? Of course he talked, all the damn time,” she offered up a tight smile, “I have already told you he was coming up five; I appreciate your interaction with children must be limited Colonel, but five year olds talk.”
Hannibal took a mouthful of coffee, ‘Not this one,’ he thought to himself. Father Maghill had told Hannibal once that Face hadn’t uttered a single word until he’d been in the orphanage system for just over a year. The staff had worried that he was mute, but one day, completely out of the blue, he just started talking once more. But by then, of course, he couldn’t remember anything of his previous life, not even his name. He looked down at the photograph in front of him again, Daniel Arthur Ellis; he had to admit, it suited him.
Silence spread over the table as Hannibal considered the information overload he’d been subjected to in the last twenty minutes. Did he believe her or not? What she’d said was true, what was there to gain from inventing a relationship to an almost penniless fugitive of the law? What could she possibly reap from making a claim like this erroneously?
“So why now?” Hannibal asked. “You left him with nothing, never came back for him. Why now?”
“I did not leave him with nothing.” The spite in her voice was surprising. “I made sure he had everything he could possibly have wanted, people who would clothe him, feed him, send him to school.”
“Everything but a family to love him,” Hannibal interjected smoothly and if he’d been concerned at all about upsetting Adele, he needn’t have worried as that anger was back, not hidden away this time.
“Families aren’t all they are cracked up to be, Colonel Smith. I have managed just fine without one and so has he.”
Biting back the retort that Hannibal really wanted to make, about how the hell she would know the first thing about how Face had managed, he instead prompted, “So, why now?”
Adele glanced down and the handkerchief was back as were the tears. “Just because I never went back, doesn’t mean I didn’t think about him, every single day we were apart. Birthdays, Christmas, Mother’s Day, they were always the worst...” she trailed off into a sob and Hannibal realised that, yet again, his question had remained unanswered.
“So why now?” he repeated.
Adele heaved a sigh and went back to her eye dabbing. “Because I thought he was better off without me. I was a danger to him, and he didn’t need me coming into his life, disrupting it all.” A slight smile quirked the corner of her mouth, “I’d always thought he was going to be clever, would go to college, be a doctor or a scientist, something like that,” the smile dropped slightly. “I never dreamed he would join the army, end up in prison and then on the run...” she shook her head, “My own son, I’d always hoped he would turn into something brilliant.”
Hannibal had had to force himself to stay quiet during that little speech, but now she had finished, his mouth could not be controlled any longer. “He is brilliant,” he whispered, his own edge of anger to the words, “at anything and everything he does. Any woman should be proud to have him as her son.”
“Oh, you misunderstand me!” Adele countered, her eyes wide and injured, “I am proud of him, very, very proud. But that’s why I am contacting him now. I’d always thought he was better off without me, but now I see what has happened to his life,” she shook her head sadly, “well, now I know he needs me now, more than ever before. That’s why I’ve come back.”
Again Hannibal mulled this over, watching this woman in front of him and realised that his mind had already been made up, she was either the most gifted con woman he had ever met, or she was indeed Face’s mother. And knowing Face, both might actually be true.
Adele had been watching him back, waiting for that little sign in his face that she now thought she saw. “You believe me,” she said, smiling warmly at him,” I’m so pleased. Does that mean you will now arrange a meeting for us?”
Pushing away his coffee cup, Hannibal leaned over the table towards her, pressing his fingers together. “I will talk to him,” he replied, “I will tell him what you have told me, and I will suggest a meeting to him. That’s all I will do. And if he says no,” he shrugged, “he says no.”
“Well that would be a shame,” Adele responded. “I thought he would like to have a family again after all this time. I’m a widow now, but my husband had children of his own and now they too have children, there is an entire instant family out there - just waiting for him.”
Hannibal leant back, “He’s a grown man,” he repeated, “can make his own decisions.”
Adele looked at him for a moment, and Hannibal could almost see the cogs in her mind turning. “Okay, then,” she eventually answered, “I will leave it in your more than capable hands.” She stood smoothly from her seat and held her hand out once more, “Pleasure to meet you.”
Rising slightly as well, Hannibal shook the proffered hand firmly, “I’ll be in touch,” he promised and she nodded slightly before turning and walking out of the terrace, admiring glances following her the entire way.
Next
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-09-19 10:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-19 11:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-20 11:10 am (UTC)Another Fic to sink my teeth into :-)
Date: 2011-09-20 12:02 am (UTC)Re: Another Fic to sink my teeth into :-)
Date: 2011-09-20 06:53 pm (UTC)