A Mother's Love - Part Sixteen
Oct. 14th, 2011 08:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
indigo_angelsThat threw Face. In reality, he wanted to know nothing. He wanted to get up, turn around, walk away and never see this woman again for the rest of his life. But then you would never know... a little voice in his head whispered, you’d never know why she left you... And that was the thing; did he even want to know? He stared at her, utterly confused.
“Nothing to say?” Adele picked up her wine glass and sipped it carefully as she watched him. “All those complaints and now you have nothing to say?”
“Why did you leave me?” he asked quick as a flash, words tumbling out of his mouth without thought.
Adele met his eyes with her own grey ones and stared impassively at him. “I had to leave you, I was in danger, I didn’t want you involved so I had to leave you behind.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he snapped at her, not in the mood for half stories and riddles right now.
Adele sighed and slowly made up her coffee before sipping it carefully and looking back at Face’s impatient expression. “As I’m sure John has already told you,” she continued levelly, “we lived together, you and I when you were little,” she narrowed her eyes at him. “You sure you can’t remember a thing about that time?” Face shook his head, not at all ready to share his dreams with anyone and Adele nodded, convinced, before she continued. “Anyway, we lived in the cutest little wooden house, right on the beach. It had blue walls and a slate roof, window boxes at every window.” She gazed off into the middle distance for a moment, a dreamy look of contentment on her face while Face wondered why he couldn’t remember that house, why he could only see the trailer in his mind. “We were happy, but we needed some money so I started working at the local casino as a croupier. Nights, weekends, that type of thing.” Face frowned and wondered why she was telling him all this.
Adele stopped and just for a moment, looked a little lost or guilty, Face wasn’t sure which. “And then I met a man,” she said quietly. “At first I thought I was the luckiest girl alive, he was rich and obviously powerful. He bought me expensive jewellery and dresses and took me out to exclusive restaurants,” her eyes were gleaming at the memory and Face was just itching to ask where he was when all of this was going on. “But then...” Adele looked down at the table, “he told me that he wanted me to turn a few tricks for him, just with ‘special friends’, as a favour, and that I would get paid for my time and trouble. I knew exactly what that meant, knew he just wanted to be my pimp.” Silence fell as Adele went back to stroking the condensation on the side of the cream jug. “So, I told him no, and that’s when I realised just how dangerous he was. He threatened me. Told me that if I didn’t work for him I would regret it. I found out he had big mob connections,” her eyes, wide and full of tears flicked up to him, “he would have killed me, Danny, and then where would that have left you?”
“Oh, I don't know,” Face replied sharply, “in an orphanage maybe?”
“No!” Adele snapped back. “Dead as well, or in one of his damn whore houses yourself, a beautiful blonde, blue eyed boy like you, men would have paid handsomely for that treat!”
Face had no reply for that.
“So I ran,” Adele continued, “and I knew that if his men caught up with me then I was in big trouble. I didn't want him to hurt you, he didn't even know you existed, so I knew I could leave you here, that you would be safe from him even if you stayed in LA.”
Silence fell between them as Face considered her words. “It never occurred to you that I may have preferred to come with you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous! How could I take you with me? How could I expose you to that risk? If you stayed behind, at least you would be safe.”
“So, where did you go then?” he asked quietly.
Adele sighed. “All over. Denver first. Dallas, Miami, Chicago, Seattle... I ran for three years and eventually finished up in New York.”
Three years... Face thought. So, he’d have been seven at that point. “So why didn't you send for me then? When you were settled?”
“Oh, Danny!” Adele leaned right over the table towards him, “I thought you’d have been adopted by then, someone else’s beautiful son, happy in a huge house in the hills, a dog, playing Little League, riding your bike, leaving teeth out for the Tooth Fairy...” she looked him right in the eyes, “How was I to know that no one would want you?”
The words were like a kick in the gut. Just as he had been starting to think that maybe this wasn’t all his fault, that maybe Adele hadn’t wanted to leave him alone, she had to say that, had to remind him of the abhorrent child he was, not wanted by any of the families who’d thought that the pretty blue eyed boy was just what they needed for their family, not wanted by the COs who hadn’t had the patience to deal with his baggage, or by Sosa, who was only interested in his body, not his soul. Not wanted by anyone until he met Hannibal, Hannibal who had just told him he needed ‘space’ that, yet again, Face was just in the way. He started crumbling.
“What about my father?” the words were out of his mouth before he had even really considered speaking them. It was just a desperate last ditch effort to find that there was someone, somewhere who hadn’t consciously decided they didn't want him. Maybe his father had been looking for him, maybe Adele had told him he couldn’t have access to his son, maybe that father was still out there, thinking about the tiny baby who was now a man and whom he had never met. “Why didn't you send me to him?”
It was all getting just too much for him.
“Your father?” Adele scoffed, eyes shining cruelly. “Don’t go having wistful, apple pie thoughts of him; I have no idea who he is!”
His heart was beating so hard it hurt as his dreams came back to him making his stomach churn uncomfortably. “No? Too many to keep track of?” he spat.
She leaned back in her chair a little, anger flashing in her eyes, her hands twitching as if they wanted nothing more but to slap him across the face for his words. “No,” she answered coldly looking right into his eyes, “I was gang raped in the street one night when I was seventeen. You were the result of that.”
A slap in his face would have been a whole lot less violent than that. Face just stared at her, the last tiny little thread of normality that he’d had to cling to snapping right in front of his eyes. Somewhere in his reeling consciousness he released that he should feel sympathy for the woman sitting in front of him who had been violated in such a violent and horrific way, but all he could think about was how, despite everything else he knew or didn’t know about himself, he’d always thought that at least he had been conceived in pleasure. It may not have been planned, love may not have been an issue, but he’d just assumed that there had been a whole lot of lust at the very least, that for maybe five minutes, somebody was happy, his mother was happy, and out of that happiness, he was created.
But no. Not that, not that at all. He was only on this earth because a young girl had been assaulted, humiliated, degraded, hurt. Jesus Christ. No wonder she’d hated him, no wonder she’d dumped him, it was a miracle she hadn’t thrown him down a storm drain the day he was born. He was an abomination, a product of terror and torture, he shouldn’t even be alive.
“Danny?” her voice seemed to come from the other end of a tunnel and he looked back at her, surprised to see she looked only mildly concerned at his reaction. Why wasn’t she more upset, why wasn’t she as hurt and horrified as he was? “Are you alright?”
He just stared at her, barely hearing her enquiry and let the question burning up his throat slip out into the air between them. “So, that’s really why you left me?” He hated how he sounded, like that ignorant six year old who hadn’t seen the content of his own files yet.
“No. I told you, I had to run.”
They looked at each other. She was pale, looked a little drawn around the edges but okay, really. Like maybe she was having to tell a friend that their planned holiday had been cancelled, not that she was telling her only child that he had been conceived in a rape and then hidden in an orphanage while his mother ran from the mob. He could feel himself starting to unravel.
And then he was on his feet. “I don’t want to see you again,” he said quietly, calmly against the rage that was spinning inside of him. “I said I would meet you and I have. But don’t contact me anymore.”
Pure panic washed across her face and she stood up, grabbing his wrist hard in her thin fingers, feeling his latent strength and knowing that if he really wanted to leave, he would, that she could do absolutely nothing to stop him. Her mind was running a mile a minute, furious that her carefully planned evening and the information she had fed him had not had the effects that she had anticipated. He was supposed to feel guilty for all the effort she had gone to to protect him, the pain she had suffered in his conception, but no, he was just thinking of himself. Again.
But he couldn’t leave, no, no, no. She had too much invested in all of this now, too many hopes and bargains, she couldn’t let him go. “Danny, please,” she whispered, putting as much sorrow and desolation into her voice as she could, “please don't walk away from me like this.”
And then Face walked right into it, said the one line that opened all possibilities back up for her, gifted her a way out when only seconds before he had been so close to escape.
“Why?” he said, his voice breaking under the strain. “What do you want from me?”
Adele took a deep breath, knowing that these lines had to be delivered just right. “I want to get to know you, Danny, before it’s too late.”
“Too late?” Face frowned at her, unable to hear the prison door clang shut behind him, “Too late, why?”
She fixed him with her large, wet eyes. “I’m dying Danny. I only have months left to get to know you.”
Face stood and stared at her, his own eyes wide in shock before he turned and walked out, totally unaware of the ball and chain now trailing along behind him.
___________________________
Hannibal burst into the family room from the adjoining kitchen, his brow furrowed and his phone still grasped in his fist. “Guys, we have a problem, I need someone to go over to Adele’s hotel and see her.”
Murdock scowled and slid further down in his seat turning his eyes back to BA’s paused Guitar Hero scores. “Well I aint going,” he muttered mutinously.
BA looked at Hannibal, his head slightly to one side as he thought deeper into Hannibal’s words, looking for the reason behind them. “Why, man?” he asked quietly, taking the guitar controller from around his neck, “What’s happened?”
Hannibal grabbed the keys to the Chevy off the mantelpiece, a distracted look in his eyes. “I’m not really sure, but Face has walked out on her and she’s just called, totally hysterical, says she needs me to go over and see her.”
In a second, Murdock was bolt upright and looking over the back of his chair at Hannibal, “He walked out? What has she said to him?”
“Aw, man,” BA pointedly ignored Murdock, “what do I have to go over for? I dunno the first thing ‘bout cryin’ women... Can’t you see her?”
“Sorry,” Hannibal was standing in the doorway now, obviously itching to leave. “If Face has walked out, he’s upset. I need to go and find him.”
“I’ll come!” Murdock was on his feet in a second, imploring eyes turned to Hannibal.
“No, captain,” he paused with a hand on the door, “Someone needs to stay behind in case Face comes here. You never know, he may come looking for us.”
Murdock doubted it, but knew that Hannibal was right. He sighed and reached into his pocket pulling out a hotel key card. “You’d better take this then,” he muttered, defeat in his entire posture.
Hannibal frowned as he took it, “What’s this?”
“A spare room key for Face’s room. I made him get me one when he said he wanted to stay on his own.”
For a second it looked as though Hannibal was about to say something but then he just folded his fingers around the card and slid it into his pocket. “Okay, Murdock, thanks,” he replied quietly.
Pausing just long enough to make sure that BA knew where he was going; Hannibal turned and dashed out of the door.
______________________________________
Twenty minutes later, Hannibal was standing with his ear against Face’s hotel door, trying to silence the pulse pounding in his ears long enough so that he could work out if there had been any response to his knocking, As far as he was aware there wasn’t a sound coming from within and the thin black line he could see under the door seemed to suggest that the room was in darkness. His heart dropped; if Face wasn’t here and he hadn’t turned up at the house yet with Murdock, then where the hell was he?
Hannibal was about to turn away, go and see if he could spot Face’s hire car in the basement garage when a sudden thought struck him and he decided to check inside, see if Face was planning on coming back or not. He slid the key card in and was relieved to see the green light click on, at least that meant that he hadn’t checked out, and then he slowly and quietly opened the door.
It was dark inside, pitch black, and silent. Hannibal stood in the little walkway between the en-suite and the wardrobes and felt about for a light switch. It was a dimmer switch and he only turned it slightly, letting a dim light infuse the room and glanced around, relief gushing through him as he saw all of Face’s gear spread all over the room. At least now he knew the kid was planning on coming back, he could always just wait for him, maybe after checking out the bar.
He was turning back for the door, hand reaching for the light switch once more when he heard the faintest of sounds coming from the room beyond. He stopped and listened hard but there was nothing. His fingers closed around the dimmer switch once more, considering, and then he abruptly let go, turning back towards the room and striding in, out of the narrow passageway and right up to the corner of the double bed.
“Face?” he said, his eyes opening wide as he took in the figure sat on the carpet in the corner of the room, “What the hell’s happened?”
But he didn’t get an answer, Face just lifted his head from his knees, revealing his tear stained cheeks and held his arms out to Hannibal. Hannibal didn’t need a second invitation, he dropped to his knees on the carpet right next to him and pulled him in to his chest, relieved beyond belief to have him close and safe, but horrified by the state he was in. The reasons for that would have to wait though, he reasoned to himself as he adjusted his position, shuffling to sit on his ass propped up against the wall with Face leaning into his chest from the gap between his legs.
He wound his arms tight around Face’s shoulders, keeping him close while burying his nose into the crown of the kid’s hair, inhaling that shampoo smell that always made him feel like he was home. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured gently, “I’ve got you.” He mentally kicked himself, wishing he’d told Face more firmly that he shouldn’t be seeing Adele just yet, but he supposed the lieutenant was old enough to make his own decisions, his own mistakes, and by letting him make them and then helping him to pick up the pieces afterwards, he was doing the only thing he could.
Face wasn’t crying, he was just clinging to Hannibal’s sweatshirt, his face buried in the soft fabric and letting the boss hold him, so Hannibal carefully slipped one hand into his pocket and rushed a quick text off to Murdock before leaving his phone on the carpet next to his thigh and holding on again.
Hannibal didn't know what to say, had no idea what had happened between Face and Adele and so mostly kept quiet, just holding and rocking and kissing, telling him every now and again how loved he was, how precious, and Face just soaked it all up, silent in the space between Hannibal’s legs. An hour passed in this way, and just as Hannibal feared he would never get the feeling back into his numb behind, Face shifted and sat up, resolutely staring at the the blank television screen, his eyes swollen and bloodshot.
The silence was heavy; Hannibal had no idea how best to handle this situation. So far, he’d managed to mess up every attempt he’d made at trying to help Face through this and he was determined not to make the same mistake again. He decided to let Face take the lead here, after all if the kid had actually wanted Hannibal to get involved at this point he would have come back to the house and not his hotel room. He carefully disentangled himself from his distraught lieutenant and climbed to his feet, wincing at the stiffness in his hips from being on the floor so long.
Face didn’t move, his arms looped loosely around his knees, his eyes fixed on the blank television screen in front of him as Hannibal went to the mini bar and emptied a mini bottle of Jack into one of the plastic glasses, poured himself a Johnny Walker and then set them both down on the bedside table. He glanced down at Face and his chest tightened at the look of barely controlled distress that he saw there and he realised that there was no way he could just sit and wait for Face to come to him.
He bent down, blocking Face’s view of the empty screen and unfastened the laces of the shoes in front of him before gently slipping them from Face’s unresponsive feet. Then he took both of his man’s cold hands in his own and squeezed, “Hey,” he whispered, watching the struggle for emotional control going on in the red rimmed blue eyes, “You’re not alone here, baby. I’m here; I’ll always be here for you.”
The troubled eyes flicked to Hannibal’s face and he could see Face swallow hard, building himself up to speak, “I don't want to fall apart again, boss,” he whispered, “I shouldn’t let myself do that, should be stronger.”
And that pain was back, right through the centre of Hannibal’s chest, wondering why Face always had to do this, had to beat himself up so badly about everything he did or felt. “You won’t fall apart,” Hannibal promised him, “You can let it all out without having to worry about that, I won’t let you fall apart.” But Face just stared at him and so Hannibal stood up again, pulling Face with him and started stripping him down, his voice a soothing monotone of nothing as he did so, “So let’s get you into bed then shall we? I’ll take your jacket and just leave it over the back of the chair like that, okay? I know it’s not a padded hanger, but it’ll do for now, right kid? There you go, and your vest...” Face was standing in his shirt sleeves, the vest over his slate blue shirt hugging his chest perfectly and Hannibal gritted his teeth as he felt the familiar thickening in his pants. This wasn’t the time for that, he chided himself, it was the time to make sure that Face was okay, not to jump the poor boy, no matter how fucking gorgeous he was.
“There, let’s get this off as well,” the vest was already with the jacket over the back of the chair as Hannibal’s fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, finally managing to free the last one as he smoothed it back over Face’s broad shoulders, thinking of how long it had been since he had had the pleasure of touching all this skin.
Hannibal left the grey marl undershirt on and instead unfastened Face’s trousers, dropping the zip in as non-suggestive a way as he could manage, before letting the pants slip down his lieutenant’s legs to pool on the floor at his ankles. He forced himself to keep his eyes strictly business and ignored the almost burning desire to drop a kiss onto the front of Face’s trunks, as he pulled off one trouser leg, then two, tugging socks off in the same motion.
“There you go, baby,” Hannibal whispered around the desire in his voice, “come and get into bed.”
Face let himself be guided under the duvet, wearing nothing but his marl trunks and undershirt, and Hannibal quickly stripped himself off, letting his jeans and sweatshirt stay in a heap on the carpet as he slid in behind Face, settling himself against the headboard and shuffling and tugging at his boy until he was back in the space between Hannibal’s legs, duvet loose across his chest, spine tight against the front of Hannibal’s t-shirt.
“Okay,” Hannibal kissed at the junction of neck and shoulder and leaned over, snagging the JD and passing it to Face, waiting until the kid had taken it before getting his own drink and taking a huge long gulp of it before setting it back down again and wrapping both his arms loosely around the man in front of him. “You want to tell me what happened?”
Next
“Nothing to say?” Adele picked up her wine glass and sipped it carefully as she watched him. “All those complaints and now you have nothing to say?”
“Why did you leave me?” he asked quick as a flash, words tumbling out of his mouth without thought.
Adele met his eyes with her own grey ones and stared impassively at him. “I had to leave you, I was in danger, I didn’t want you involved so I had to leave you behind.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he snapped at her, not in the mood for half stories and riddles right now.
Adele sighed and slowly made up her coffee before sipping it carefully and looking back at Face’s impatient expression. “As I’m sure John has already told you,” she continued levelly, “we lived together, you and I when you were little,” she narrowed her eyes at him. “You sure you can’t remember a thing about that time?” Face shook his head, not at all ready to share his dreams with anyone and Adele nodded, convinced, before she continued. “Anyway, we lived in the cutest little wooden house, right on the beach. It had blue walls and a slate roof, window boxes at every window.” She gazed off into the middle distance for a moment, a dreamy look of contentment on her face while Face wondered why he couldn’t remember that house, why he could only see the trailer in his mind. “We were happy, but we needed some money so I started working at the local casino as a croupier. Nights, weekends, that type of thing.” Face frowned and wondered why she was telling him all this.
Adele stopped and just for a moment, looked a little lost or guilty, Face wasn’t sure which. “And then I met a man,” she said quietly. “At first I thought I was the luckiest girl alive, he was rich and obviously powerful. He bought me expensive jewellery and dresses and took me out to exclusive restaurants,” her eyes were gleaming at the memory and Face was just itching to ask where he was when all of this was going on. “But then...” Adele looked down at the table, “he told me that he wanted me to turn a few tricks for him, just with ‘special friends’, as a favour, and that I would get paid for my time and trouble. I knew exactly what that meant, knew he just wanted to be my pimp.” Silence fell as Adele went back to stroking the condensation on the side of the cream jug. “So, I told him no, and that’s when I realised just how dangerous he was. He threatened me. Told me that if I didn’t work for him I would regret it. I found out he had big mob connections,” her eyes, wide and full of tears flicked up to him, “he would have killed me, Danny, and then where would that have left you?”
“Oh, I don't know,” Face replied sharply, “in an orphanage maybe?”
“No!” Adele snapped back. “Dead as well, or in one of his damn whore houses yourself, a beautiful blonde, blue eyed boy like you, men would have paid handsomely for that treat!”
Face had no reply for that.
“So I ran,” Adele continued, “and I knew that if his men caught up with me then I was in big trouble. I didn't want him to hurt you, he didn't even know you existed, so I knew I could leave you here, that you would be safe from him even if you stayed in LA.”
Silence fell between them as Face considered her words. “It never occurred to you that I may have preferred to come with you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous! How could I take you with me? How could I expose you to that risk? If you stayed behind, at least you would be safe.”
“So, where did you go then?” he asked quietly.
Adele sighed. “All over. Denver first. Dallas, Miami, Chicago, Seattle... I ran for three years and eventually finished up in New York.”
Three years... Face thought. So, he’d have been seven at that point. “So why didn't you send for me then? When you were settled?”
“Oh, Danny!” Adele leaned right over the table towards him, “I thought you’d have been adopted by then, someone else’s beautiful son, happy in a huge house in the hills, a dog, playing Little League, riding your bike, leaving teeth out for the Tooth Fairy...” she looked him right in the eyes, “How was I to know that no one would want you?”
The words were like a kick in the gut. Just as he had been starting to think that maybe this wasn’t all his fault, that maybe Adele hadn’t wanted to leave him alone, she had to say that, had to remind him of the abhorrent child he was, not wanted by any of the families who’d thought that the pretty blue eyed boy was just what they needed for their family, not wanted by the COs who hadn’t had the patience to deal with his baggage, or by Sosa, who was only interested in his body, not his soul. Not wanted by anyone until he met Hannibal, Hannibal who had just told him he needed ‘space’ that, yet again, Face was just in the way. He started crumbling.
“What about my father?” the words were out of his mouth before he had even really considered speaking them. It was just a desperate last ditch effort to find that there was someone, somewhere who hadn’t consciously decided they didn't want him. Maybe his father had been looking for him, maybe Adele had told him he couldn’t have access to his son, maybe that father was still out there, thinking about the tiny baby who was now a man and whom he had never met. “Why didn't you send me to him?”
It was all getting just too much for him.
“Your father?” Adele scoffed, eyes shining cruelly. “Don’t go having wistful, apple pie thoughts of him; I have no idea who he is!”
His heart was beating so hard it hurt as his dreams came back to him making his stomach churn uncomfortably. “No? Too many to keep track of?” he spat.
She leaned back in her chair a little, anger flashing in her eyes, her hands twitching as if they wanted nothing more but to slap him across the face for his words. “No,” she answered coldly looking right into his eyes, “I was gang raped in the street one night when I was seventeen. You were the result of that.”
A slap in his face would have been a whole lot less violent than that. Face just stared at her, the last tiny little thread of normality that he’d had to cling to snapping right in front of his eyes. Somewhere in his reeling consciousness he released that he should feel sympathy for the woman sitting in front of him who had been violated in such a violent and horrific way, but all he could think about was how, despite everything else he knew or didn’t know about himself, he’d always thought that at least he had been conceived in pleasure. It may not have been planned, love may not have been an issue, but he’d just assumed that there had been a whole lot of lust at the very least, that for maybe five minutes, somebody was happy, his mother was happy, and out of that happiness, he was created.
But no. Not that, not that at all. He was only on this earth because a young girl had been assaulted, humiliated, degraded, hurt. Jesus Christ. No wonder she’d hated him, no wonder she’d dumped him, it was a miracle she hadn’t thrown him down a storm drain the day he was born. He was an abomination, a product of terror and torture, he shouldn’t even be alive.
“Danny?” her voice seemed to come from the other end of a tunnel and he looked back at her, surprised to see she looked only mildly concerned at his reaction. Why wasn’t she more upset, why wasn’t she as hurt and horrified as he was? “Are you alright?”
He just stared at her, barely hearing her enquiry and let the question burning up his throat slip out into the air between them. “So, that’s really why you left me?” He hated how he sounded, like that ignorant six year old who hadn’t seen the content of his own files yet.
“No. I told you, I had to run.”
They looked at each other. She was pale, looked a little drawn around the edges but okay, really. Like maybe she was having to tell a friend that their planned holiday had been cancelled, not that she was telling her only child that he had been conceived in a rape and then hidden in an orphanage while his mother ran from the mob. He could feel himself starting to unravel.
And then he was on his feet. “I don’t want to see you again,” he said quietly, calmly against the rage that was spinning inside of him. “I said I would meet you and I have. But don’t contact me anymore.”
Pure panic washed across her face and she stood up, grabbing his wrist hard in her thin fingers, feeling his latent strength and knowing that if he really wanted to leave, he would, that she could do absolutely nothing to stop him. Her mind was running a mile a minute, furious that her carefully planned evening and the information she had fed him had not had the effects that she had anticipated. He was supposed to feel guilty for all the effort she had gone to to protect him, the pain she had suffered in his conception, but no, he was just thinking of himself. Again.
But he couldn’t leave, no, no, no. She had too much invested in all of this now, too many hopes and bargains, she couldn’t let him go. “Danny, please,” she whispered, putting as much sorrow and desolation into her voice as she could, “please don't walk away from me like this.”
And then Face walked right into it, said the one line that opened all possibilities back up for her, gifted her a way out when only seconds before he had been so close to escape.
“Why?” he said, his voice breaking under the strain. “What do you want from me?”
Adele took a deep breath, knowing that these lines had to be delivered just right. “I want to get to know you, Danny, before it’s too late.”
“Too late?” Face frowned at her, unable to hear the prison door clang shut behind him, “Too late, why?”
She fixed him with her large, wet eyes. “I’m dying Danny. I only have months left to get to know you.”
Face stood and stared at her, his own eyes wide in shock before he turned and walked out, totally unaware of the ball and chain now trailing along behind him.
___________________________
Hannibal burst into the family room from the adjoining kitchen, his brow furrowed and his phone still grasped in his fist. “Guys, we have a problem, I need someone to go over to Adele’s hotel and see her.”
Murdock scowled and slid further down in his seat turning his eyes back to BA’s paused Guitar Hero scores. “Well I aint going,” he muttered mutinously.
BA looked at Hannibal, his head slightly to one side as he thought deeper into Hannibal’s words, looking for the reason behind them. “Why, man?” he asked quietly, taking the guitar controller from around his neck, “What’s happened?”
Hannibal grabbed the keys to the Chevy off the mantelpiece, a distracted look in his eyes. “I’m not really sure, but Face has walked out on her and she’s just called, totally hysterical, says she needs me to go over and see her.”
In a second, Murdock was bolt upright and looking over the back of his chair at Hannibal, “He walked out? What has she said to him?”
“Aw, man,” BA pointedly ignored Murdock, “what do I have to go over for? I dunno the first thing ‘bout cryin’ women... Can’t you see her?”
“Sorry,” Hannibal was standing in the doorway now, obviously itching to leave. “If Face has walked out, he’s upset. I need to go and find him.”
“I’ll come!” Murdock was on his feet in a second, imploring eyes turned to Hannibal.
“No, captain,” he paused with a hand on the door, “Someone needs to stay behind in case Face comes here. You never know, he may come looking for us.”
Murdock doubted it, but knew that Hannibal was right. He sighed and reached into his pocket pulling out a hotel key card. “You’d better take this then,” he muttered, defeat in his entire posture.
Hannibal frowned as he took it, “What’s this?”
“A spare room key for Face’s room. I made him get me one when he said he wanted to stay on his own.”
For a second it looked as though Hannibal was about to say something but then he just folded his fingers around the card and slid it into his pocket. “Okay, Murdock, thanks,” he replied quietly.
Pausing just long enough to make sure that BA knew where he was going; Hannibal turned and dashed out of the door.
______________________________________
Twenty minutes later, Hannibal was standing with his ear against Face’s hotel door, trying to silence the pulse pounding in his ears long enough so that he could work out if there had been any response to his knocking, As far as he was aware there wasn’t a sound coming from within and the thin black line he could see under the door seemed to suggest that the room was in darkness. His heart dropped; if Face wasn’t here and he hadn’t turned up at the house yet with Murdock, then where the hell was he?
Hannibal was about to turn away, go and see if he could spot Face’s hire car in the basement garage when a sudden thought struck him and he decided to check inside, see if Face was planning on coming back or not. He slid the key card in and was relieved to see the green light click on, at least that meant that he hadn’t checked out, and then he slowly and quietly opened the door.
It was dark inside, pitch black, and silent. Hannibal stood in the little walkway between the en-suite and the wardrobes and felt about for a light switch. It was a dimmer switch and he only turned it slightly, letting a dim light infuse the room and glanced around, relief gushing through him as he saw all of Face’s gear spread all over the room. At least now he knew the kid was planning on coming back, he could always just wait for him, maybe after checking out the bar.
He was turning back for the door, hand reaching for the light switch once more when he heard the faintest of sounds coming from the room beyond. He stopped and listened hard but there was nothing. His fingers closed around the dimmer switch once more, considering, and then he abruptly let go, turning back towards the room and striding in, out of the narrow passageway and right up to the corner of the double bed.
“Face?” he said, his eyes opening wide as he took in the figure sat on the carpet in the corner of the room, “What the hell’s happened?”
But he didn’t get an answer, Face just lifted his head from his knees, revealing his tear stained cheeks and held his arms out to Hannibal. Hannibal didn’t need a second invitation, he dropped to his knees on the carpet right next to him and pulled him in to his chest, relieved beyond belief to have him close and safe, but horrified by the state he was in. The reasons for that would have to wait though, he reasoned to himself as he adjusted his position, shuffling to sit on his ass propped up against the wall with Face leaning into his chest from the gap between his legs.
He wound his arms tight around Face’s shoulders, keeping him close while burying his nose into the crown of the kid’s hair, inhaling that shampoo smell that always made him feel like he was home. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured gently, “I’ve got you.” He mentally kicked himself, wishing he’d told Face more firmly that he shouldn’t be seeing Adele just yet, but he supposed the lieutenant was old enough to make his own decisions, his own mistakes, and by letting him make them and then helping him to pick up the pieces afterwards, he was doing the only thing he could.
Face wasn’t crying, he was just clinging to Hannibal’s sweatshirt, his face buried in the soft fabric and letting the boss hold him, so Hannibal carefully slipped one hand into his pocket and rushed a quick text off to Murdock before leaving his phone on the carpet next to his thigh and holding on again.
Hannibal didn't know what to say, had no idea what had happened between Face and Adele and so mostly kept quiet, just holding and rocking and kissing, telling him every now and again how loved he was, how precious, and Face just soaked it all up, silent in the space between Hannibal’s legs. An hour passed in this way, and just as Hannibal feared he would never get the feeling back into his numb behind, Face shifted and sat up, resolutely staring at the the blank television screen, his eyes swollen and bloodshot.
The silence was heavy; Hannibal had no idea how best to handle this situation. So far, he’d managed to mess up every attempt he’d made at trying to help Face through this and he was determined not to make the same mistake again. He decided to let Face take the lead here, after all if the kid had actually wanted Hannibal to get involved at this point he would have come back to the house and not his hotel room. He carefully disentangled himself from his distraught lieutenant and climbed to his feet, wincing at the stiffness in his hips from being on the floor so long.
Face didn’t move, his arms looped loosely around his knees, his eyes fixed on the blank television screen in front of him as Hannibal went to the mini bar and emptied a mini bottle of Jack into one of the plastic glasses, poured himself a Johnny Walker and then set them both down on the bedside table. He glanced down at Face and his chest tightened at the look of barely controlled distress that he saw there and he realised that there was no way he could just sit and wait for Face to come to him.
He bent down, blocking Face’s view of the empty screen and unfastened the laces of the shoes in front of him before gently slipping them from Face’s unresponsive feet. Then he took both of his man’s cold hands in his own and squeezed, “Hey,” he whispered, watching the struggle for emotional control going on in the red rimmed blue eyes, “You’re not alone here, baby. I’m here; I’ll always be here for you.”
The troubled eyes flicked to Hannibal’s face and he could see Face swallow hard, building himself up to speak, “I don't want to fall apart again, boss,” he whispered, “I shouldn’t let myself do that, should be stronger.”
And that pain was back, right through the centre of Hannibal’s chest, wondering why Face always had to do this, had to beat himself up so badly about everything he did or felt. “You won’t fall apart,” Hannibal promised him, “You can let it all out without having to worry about that, I won’t let you fall apart.” But Face just stared at him and so Hannibal stood up again, pulling Face with him and started stripping him down, his voice a soothing monotone of nothing as he did so, “So let’s get you into bed then shall we? I’ll take your jacket and just leave it over the back of the chair like that, okay? I know it’s not a padded hanger, but it’ll do for now, right kid? There you go, and your vest...” Face was standing in his shirt sleeves, the vest over his slate blue shirt hugging his chest perfectly and Hannibal gritted his teeth as he felt the familiar thickening in his pants. This wasn’t the time for that, he chided himself, it was the time to make sure that Face was okay, not to jump the poor boy, no matter how fucking gorgeous he was.
“There, let’s get this off as well,” the vest was already with the jacket over the back of the chair as Hannibal’s fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, finally managing to free the last one as he smoothed it back over Face’s broad shoulders, thinking of how long it had been since he had had the pleasure of touching all this skin.
Hannibal left the grey marl undershirt on and instead unfastened Face’s trousers, dropping the zip in as non-suggestive a way as he could manage, before letting the pants slip down his lieutenant’s legs to pool on the floor at his ankles. He forced himself to keep his eyes strictly business and ignored the almost burning desire to drop a kiss onto the front of Face’s trunks, as he pulled off one trouser leg, then two, tugging socks off in the same motion.
“There you go, baby,” Hannibal whispered around the desire in his voice, “come and get into bed.”
Face let himself be guided under the duvet, wearing nothing but his marl trunks and undershirt, and Hannibal quickly stripped himself off, letting his jeans and sweatshirt stay in a heap on the carpet as he slid in behind Face, settling himself against the headboard and shuffling and tugging at his boy until he was back in the space between Hannibal’s legs, duvet loose across his chest, spine tight against the front of Hannibal’s t-shirt.
“Okay,” Hannibal kissed at the junction of neck and shoulder and leaned over, snagging the JD and passing it to Face, waiting until the kid had taken it before getting his own drink and taking a huge long gulp of it before setting it back down again and wrapping both his arms loosely around the man in front of him. “You want to tell me what happened?”
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Date: 2011-10-16 07:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-16 07:58 pm (UTC)