indigo_angels

Biology is the least of what makes someone a mother - Oprah Winfrey

Face looked into the mirror and sighed, pushing the wrinkles out of his suit trousers and wishing he could do the same with his nerves. This was it, the moment that he had equally longed for and dreaded from far back as he could remember, and right now, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less. What was he doing? Why was he putting himself through this? He wanted to run, it was a clear, tangible feeling in his veins that made him want to run out of this door, get in his car and just drive, put as much space in between himself and this woman as he possibly could.

This woman... That kind of summed it all up for him, if he couldn’t even think of her as his mother, then what the hell point was there in this meeting? Answers, Hannibal had said. But Face had had a sneaky peak at what those answers might be through the dreams he had almost every night and who the hell wanted answers if they were more of the same?

But he’d stopped running, he’d decided that and he wasn’t weak, wasn’t going to let the coward in him take over again. He would meet her, be polite, let her have her say and then tell her just to fuck right off out of his life forever and leave him the hell alone.

Hannibal had been over this afternoon, had wanted to come to the meeting with him, but really that was more than Face could handle. It would be bad enough to see her not knowing how he was going to react to her and all that she had to tell him, and of course there was the truth of his childhood, his trailer trash genes, Hannibal thought he was flaky enough at the best of times without shoving all that in the boss’s face.

He’d picked the suit out for Face when his ability to make a simple decision abandoned him; dark, dark, blue, shirt of a slatey bluey grey. He’d told Face that a suit wasn’t necessary that the hotel where Adele was staying wasn’t that formal but Face had insisted; putting on a suit was like putting on a costume, it would help him pretend to be someone he wasn’t if he needed to, help him to cope if coping was slipping through his fingers. He looked at his watch and his stomach clenched. It was time.

_____________________________

Adele was nervous, but why, she really had no idea. She kept trying to tell herself that it was because she was concerned he wouldn’t show up, after all, being left to eat alone at La Maison was humiliating enough for one week, but somehow that didn’t feel right.

She’d gone through more changes of outfit over the course of the afternoon than she cared to remember, and eventually settled on a pair of champagne coloured silk pants along with a slightly paler halter neck top that she knew showed of her slender neck and shoulders beautifully as well as hanging just right over her bust; if you were going to spend the evening sitting in a restaurant, then considerations like that were important, you never knew who would be there.

She adjusted the way a few strands of her hair fell from the glamorous knot the hotel salon had done for her and frowned - stopping the second she realised that the action brought out the crows feet around her eyes - as she remembered that John wasn’t joining them for tonight’s little reunion. That was a shame, it would have been good for him to see her at her caring mother best, she knew she could have melted his hard military heart with her portrayal of the suffering she endured since being force to hand her precious child over to priests and run for her life. It was guaranteed that he would have left at the end of the night impressed with her strength, her fortitude at tracking Danny down and for standing by him when he was insisting on being so damn immature about the whole thing. That was of course, she smiled at herself, if he left the end of the night at all. Looking at the bed behind her in the mirror she wondered how early in the evening they could have got rid of Danny and retired up here, and then, admitting to herself that maybe that wouldn’t have looked too good, reluctantly accepted that maybe it was best that John was staying away.

Anyway, she thought as she checked the contents of her purse, once she had Danny eating out of her hand she could use him to influence John towards her bed. It had been a long time since she had a military man, and John’s initial refusal by leaving her at La Maison to chase after Danny in his baby sulk had only made her all the more determined to get him, and Danny would help, of course he would.

Glancing at her watch she smiled, half an hour late. Good. Now he would know what it felt like to be left sitting on his own in a restaurant, time to make her entrance.

__________________________

Face rubbed a hand over his mouth, trying to bite back the bile he felt threatening to explode from his stomach, and leaned against the wall in front of the hotel. His determination not to run from this was seriously wavering. He’d climbed out of the taxi with ten minutes to spare, but now he had walked around the block six, six, times he was almost fifty minutes late, he wondered if she was even still waiting for him.

He felt eyes on him and looked over at the door, seeing the doorman’s suspicious stare and realising that he needed to make a decision here, go in or leave otherwise he knew there would be a call going in to the police. He stood up from the wall and clenched his fists, still uncertain, trying to force himself into a decision when he heard his phone buzz in his pocket with a message alert and pulled it out, wondering if it was Hannibal, wondering if she had been on the phone to the boss, shopping him in for not turning up...

But the caller i.d. said, ‘HM’ and Face smiled as he read the text, ‘Go get ‘em, tiger!’ It was stupid, nonsensical, Murdock babble, and just exactly what he needed to remind him that he wasn’t alone anymore, that even though she had left him alone to face the world back then, he wasn’t alone now, hadn’t been for many years – he could do this. He graced the doorman with one of his best smiles and pulling his shoulders back, walked into the hotel.

___________________________

Adele was seething, but managing to hide it well behind her bottle of Pinot Noir. The little bastard had done it to her again, twice in one week he had left her sitting at a table all on her own, the object of curious and pitying stares from every direction. Just who the hell did he think he was? Maybe it would be a better idea to forget this whole thing with him and just concentrate on John instead...

It was at that point a sudden thought struck her, and she realised that maybe this would work to her advantage after all... She pulled her mobile from her pocket and quickly found John’s number, her manicured finger hovering over the ‘call’ button as she considered her lines. Concerned, worried mother would be a good start, then John would call Danny and when he phoned back to tell Adele she had been stood up, she would slip straight into distressed mode and John would be round in the blink of an eye. They could have dinner together, then she would turn the tears on at the end of the night, and he would be in her bed before he knew what hit him. Perfect.

However, she never quite got the chance to dial, just as she her mind was drifting on to the logical conclusion of the evening and how John’s huge hands would feel on her breasts, she happened to glance up at the entrance and her breath caught in her throat.

Here was here, he’d actually come, and any disappointment she felt at the way her night of heaven with John had suddenly evaporated into a puff of steam, was quickly pushed aside as she looked at him, really looked at him; my god, she thought, glass of wine paused at her lips, he is absolutely beautiful, what a beautiful child I have produced...

It wasn’t the first time she had seen him of course; she’d seen pictures, and then there was that strange time when the desire to just see him had been so strong she had almost stalked him in the street, followed quickly by the brief meeting in La Maison before he had run for the hills. But in the street he had been flushed and sweaty, and her eyes had been drawn to his well defined chest, while in La Maison John had surprised her by turning up in that beautifully cut suit, just for her, and so she had hardly had the chance to glance at her son.

But now... He was still winding his way through the tables towards her, impeccably well groomed, eyes so blue she could see them from her seat, expensive suit, touching in all the right places just to hint at the hard muscle underneath, hair curlier than she had at first realised, a gift from his father she mused, but carefully tamed by a no doubt very pricey styling product. He was stunning she realised, and felt a warm glow inside as she noticed the looks he was getting from the other diners, male and female, as he passed, their eyes lingering just a little longer than was polite and Adele realised with a start that the warm glow she felt was pride, pride in herself for producing such a exquisite creature.

Before she had had the chance to shake out of her self-congratulatory stupor, he was there, sliding onto the chair across from her, the waiter instantly at his side, ordering an iced water and then looking at her, those so blue eyes clearly expressing the struggle he was still having to convince himself to be here. She couldn’t have that, so she smiled warmly at him, not too much, she’d learnt that in La Maison and so toned it down a little, put on her own nervous face and spoke quietly to him, “I am so glad you have come.”

Face glanced up and she got the full force of those incredible eyes close to. He didn’t answer, just nodded and then the waiter appeared bringing a jug of iced water, pouring him a drink, asking if they were ready to order and then disappearing when Adele told him to give her son a chance, he’d only just arrived and he was a top human rights lawyer who had been in court all day and needed a minute’s peace.

In an instant, Face felt all his terror leave him to be replaced by a healthy shot of anger. “What did you say that for?” he asked her, trying to keep as much of the snap out of his voice as possible.

She turned innocent eyes on him, “What? I was trying to keep your cover, couldn’t really say you were an escaped convict now could I?”

Face flushed and felt himself tense. “How about you said nothing? Now you’ve just drawn attention to us!” He flicked his eyes surreptitiously across the room where he could see the waiter speaking to the maitre d’ and he wondered what they were talking about.

“I’m sorry,” Face looked back and found Adele’s eyes, wide and shining with moisture staring at him, “I’m just so new at all of this business, I was so worried I would do the wrong thing.”

Paling significantly, Face’s hand shot out across the table to land on her bare arm, he could never cope with a crying woman and his stomach was now knotted even further. “Hey, it’s okay,” he reassured her in a rush, “I know, and I’m sorry I said anything, it’s fine.”

Adele recovered admirably and placed her other hand over Face’s sliding her fingers through his and smiling at him. “Thank you, darling. I knew you would see it like that in the end.”

The close contact was like an icy sword through his chest and Face had to physically restrain himself from yanking his hand from her twining fingers. He’d always been a very tactile person, craved the touches he got from the team, especially Hannibal, as they tried to fill up the void left from a childhood without hugs. He was the one who coped with Murdock’s constant invasions of personal space better than anyone else in the team, and he always touched people, on the arm, the shoulder, the back, couldn’t help it, but this... he was struggling to cope with this.

Adele just watched him, a bland smile on her face and that made him even more uncomfortable as he realised sweat was starting to bead on his forehead, but just as the pounding of his pulse was threatening to burst his ear drums, the waiter saved him, drifting over to the table to try and take their orders again and Face withdrew his hand under the pretence of lifting up the menu.

___________________________

Looking at his watch, Hannibal paced over to the window and looked out at the dark street beyond.

“Did he say he was comin’ back here tonight?” Murdock asked, his voice a soft drawl as his eyes remained fixed on a rerun of Starsky and Hutch.

“No,” Hannibal admitted, still staring outside.

“Well, quit lookin’ for him then bossman, you makin’ me jumpy.”

Sighing loudly, Hannibal dropped down onto the couch and scrubbed at his hair. “I know. I just can’t settle. I can’t stop wondering how it’s going.”

The commercial break started and Murdock looked over, taking in Hannibal’s set jaw. “He’ll be fine, Hannibal. He’ll get through this.”

Hannibal just nodded, far from convinced, and forced his eyes to the TV looking straight through the cat food commercial that flashed onto the screen.

_____________________________

The waiter took away Face’s plate, barely raising an eyebrow at the scarcely touched meal, took Adele’s order for coffee and drifted away to the back of the room once more.

“I won’t stay for coffee,” Face told her, staring down at the table cloth, “I really should get going.”

Adele made a little huff of annoyance and then turned her delicate wrist to look at the solid gold watch sitting there. “Oh, Danny, it’s barely nine o’clock! Why do you have to go so early? Going to turn into a pumpkin?”

Her voice was teasing but her words were deadly serious and Face felt them jar right through his nerves, settling uncomfortably somewhere near his sternum. He took a breath, “I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” he responded quietly.

“Call you what?” she asked, genuine confusion sounding in her voice.

“Danny,” Face ground out, jaw tight with tension.

“Danny?” Adele replied incredulously, “Why ever not? It’s your name.”

Finally Face looked up at her. “No,” he replied firmly, “it’s not.”

Adele regarded him coolly over the top of her wine glass before finally speaking, “So, what am I supposed to call you then? Templeton?” she laughed, “I am so sorry, but whoever thought of that name had some serious issues.”

There was a pause before Face replied, “I thought of it.”

To give Adele a little bit of credit, she did appear more than slightly shamefaced over that gaff, but there was no way she was going to let it rattle her. “Well, I am sorry, but seriously, darling, what were you thinking?”

Face flushed as he looked at her but didn’t reply. Eventually she shrugged, “Okay then, so not Templeton.” She raised an eyebrow, “Surely not ‘Face’? That’s not even a real name!”

Yet again Face flushed. “It’s my name,” he replied quietly, “and it was given to me by people who love me, which makes it the closest thing to a proper name I’ve ever had.”

Adele pulled back, genuine shock and hurt on her face at his words. “That’s not true,” she replied, her voice almost a whisper. “I loved you. I still do.”

Face let out a harsh laugh. “Really? That why you dumped me was it? Because you loved me so much.”

For a second there was silence between them, and briefly Face wondered if she was going to get up and leave rather than face the truth of what she had done and he genuinely wished she would. But then the waiter came back and spent an age setting out cream and sugar and pouring coffee and adjusting the carafe. By the time he had finished, Adele looked far more in control of her emotions, even if her lips were set together in a thin, hard, line.

“So,” she said as soon as they were alone once more. “It sounds as though you are carrying quite a chip on your shoulder about that then.”

Face barked a genuine laugh of surprise. “Are you serious? You leave me all alone in the middle of the night on the steps to some huge creepy old orphanage with no knowledge of who I was or why I was there, disappear like a ghost, turn up over thirty years later and accuse me of having a chip on my shoulder?” He shook his head slowly, “Lady, you are a piece of work.”

“Don't speak to me like that,” Adele hissed, leaning over the table towards him, “I am your mother and I demand to be treated with some respect!”

“Respect?” Face was incredulous, “Respect is earned, not demanded.”

There was a tense standoff, as both parties refused to look away, but then Adele’s eyes narrowed as she thought of something else Face had said. “And of course you knew who you were and why you were there! I told you! Told you I had to leave you.”

“Yeah?” Face’s eyes were cold, “Well, apparently I forgot. ‘Psychological trauma induced by intense emotional stress’ was the term in my file. I couldn’t eat or sleep for weeks, I didn’t communicate with anyone for fifteen months, and when I did, I couldn’t remember anything from my life with you. I wet the bed for years, I couldn’t make friends or form attachments, I ran away more times than I can remember, I had nightmares constantly, was sent back from numerous foster homes for my unstable behaviour, was moved from orphanage to orphanage when they decided they couldn’t cope with me.” He took a deep breath, abruptly halting his outpouring of secrets before he told her something he would regret and forced himself to speak calmly. “And then I joined the army when I was fifteen.”

Adele had been getting steadily paler as she listened to this impassioned speech, but when Face got to the part about joining up, a look of scepticism washed over her face. “Fifteen?” she snapped back, “Now I know you are lying, you can’t join the army at fifteen!”

Face leaned across the table towards her, blue eyes flashing in anger, “I did,” his voice was almost a whisper, “Of course I had no idea I was fifteen though did I? Since the nuns had just given me an assumed date of birth when they found me. I thought I was sixteen, and faked all the necessary paperwork I needed to get in, including a letter from my ‘parents’ giving their permission for me to join up early.”

“Well, that’s hardly my fault,” Adele said, drawing back and running a finger down the side of the cream jug.

“Not your fault?” Face’s eyes were wide in shock. “It is precisely your fault, mother.”

The word hung in the air between them, Adele’s face white in shock even Face looking horrified at what he had just called her. She narrowed her eyes at him, “You don’t know the first thing about any of it.”

“Of course I don’t,” Face retorted, “Because you were never there to explain it were you? Not a visit or a call or even a fucking anonymous letter! Not a damn thing! And you’ve still not managed to come up with anything worth listening to tonight!”

Adele looked hard at him, he could almost see the cogs turning in her head as she weighed him up. “Alright then,” she said eventually, “what do you want to know?”

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