A Mother's Love - Part Twenty
Oct. 20th, 2011 09:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
indigo_angelsTwo hours later saw them both stepping from the Chevy outside the house and Hannibal opening the door into the kitchen. It hadn’t taken them long to eat and leave the hotel; Face’s things were already packed and waiting in the hire car, all they needed to do was drop it back at the depot and then they were ready to head for home.
They stepped into the kitchen to find BA and Murdock sat at the table, obviously waiting for them, with an atmosphere so thick you could cut it with a knife. Hannibal paused in the doorway, his keys still in his hand and Face walked into him as the boss’ eyes flicked from BA to Murdock and back again trying to weigh the situation up. “Boys,” he muttered, partly in greeting, partly in question and felt Face step up next to him, their fingers just brushing together ever so gently.
Within a second, BA was on his feet, his dark eyes narrowed at Face as he leaned over the table in a very menacing manner. “You,” he ground out in his deep voice, “are well outta order here, pretty boy!”
Murdock rose as well; his hand pushing aside a thick folder on the table top next to BA’s fist as he turned to Face, just as Hannibal reached a hand out, pressing firmly into the small of Face’s back. “Now, BA,” he started, but his words were ignored.
“Two hours!” BA exploded, eyes for no one but Face, “Two hours I had your momma cryin’ on my shoulder last night! Two hours, ‘cause she’s dyin’ and she told you an’ you don’t give a fuck!”
Hannibal and Murdock moved together, Hannibal moving his hand to Face’s arm and gripping tightly and Murdock shoving at BA’s massive chest, trying to get him to sit down.
“BA...” Hannibal warned just as Murdock hissed, “Enough Bosco!”
Face’s expression, however, was carefully blank and he just blinked as BA shook Murdock’s hand off and stalked around the table, trying to get right up into his personal space. There was, of course, no way that Hannibal was going to allow that, and even as Murdock dashed around the table himself, Hannibal stepped right in front of Face, both his hands reaching up to press against BA’s chest. “Stand down, Corporal,” he warned, his voice quiet but full of every bit of CO-ness he could muster.
“No!” BA growled, trying to get around Hannibal to Face, “He needs tellin’, Hannibal, had his head up his ass for too long now! This aint about him no more, it’s about her!”
“No,” Hannibal’s voice was calm and quiet as he kept himself between a still silent Face and a seething BA, “Her choice was to walk away, this is Face’s choice now.”
“She never had no choice, man!” BA exploded, “Just like she aint got no choice now! And it’s about time this fool stopped thinkin’ about himself and thought about some others for a change!”
That comment snapped Hannibal’s patience and Murdock could see the second his eyes turned into blue ice. “That’s just about enough, now Corporal!” he barked. “You do not have the right to speak to Face like that. You don't have the right to speak to any of this team like that.” The glare he shot at BA was openly hostile. “No one tells you how to run your life, BA and you will not tell Face how to run his. You understand that?”
BA shifted his eyes to Hannibal. “Well, it’s clear whose side you are on...” he muttered.
Hannibal ignored that jibe, “You understand that?” he repeated instead.
There was a second of tense silence before BA answered, “Yes, sir,” he muttered thickly, “I understand it all only too well!” and then he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.
For a beat, no one moved and then both Hannibal and Murdock froze as Face let out a long sigh and bent to pick up the bag he had dropped by the door. To the relief of both men in the room, he simply slung it over his shoulder and headed for the hallway and the stairs beyond. “I’m going to unpack,” he threw behind him as he disappeared. “You’d better phone her Hannibal, see if you can set something up for this afternoon before I change my mind. Outside. In daylight hours. If I have to meet the Queen of Darkness again, at least it’ll be on my terms this time.”
His footsteps faded up the stairs and Hannibal let out his own pent up breath before slumping into a seat and fishing his phone from his pocket.
“So,” Murdock slid back into his own seat, “it’s true then? She’s dyin’?”
Hannibal shook his head. “I guess so, Murdock. I mean that’s what she told Face, and I’m guessing after that little show, that’s what she told BA as well.”
Frowning, Murdock tapped the folder on the table. “She gave the big guy this as well.”
Tearing his eyes from his phone, Hannibal looked over at it. “Is that her medical file?” he asked incredulously.
“So she says,” Murdock answered evenly pushing the file over to Hannibal.
For the better part of ten minutes, neither of them spoke as Hannibal carefully leafed through all the letters, reports, prescriptions and bills in the folder before sighing and closing it up again. He looked carefully at Murdock. “So, you’ve seen all this, but you still ask me if it’s true?” Murdock shrugged and Hannibal frowned. “Come on captain,” he said quietly, “tell me what’s on your mind.”
Murdock returned his stare silently for a moment before folding his arms across his chest and tucking his hands tightly under his arms. “Dunno what you mean, boss.”
Hannibal held his gaze, “Murdock, I’m not going to yell at you here son, I genuinely want to know what’s going on.”
There was no missing the indecision in Murdock’s eyes, but then came the little exhale of air and a decision made. “That file boss,” he said quietly, his eyes staring at the file as if it could bite him, “it’s just...” he tailed off again and Hannibal waited silently. “It’s just, I aint never seen a file that neat before, you know?”
“Neat?” Now it was Hannibal’s turn to look confused. “Neat?” he queried, “Is that a problem?”
“Well,” Murdock was nervously chewing his cuticles, “Like I said, I’ve seen a lot of medical files in my time, Hannibal and I aint never seen one that neat.”
“Maybe she’s a neat freak?” Hannibal offered flatly.
Murdock shrugged, “But that don't make no difference, boss, ‘cause she aint the one who would be puttin’ all them bits o’ paper in there.” Hannibal’s eyes dropped to the file once more as Murdock continued. “All the office staff, they do the filin’ and they aint ever neat.” He leaned over and opened the folder pointing things out to Hannibal. “You see boss? The way all the paper lines up? The way that all them little holes have been punched in the same place? You tellin’ me that a loada different office clerks would make the effort to make stuff that neat?” He shook his head.
Hannibal looked at the file with new eyes and did indeed see the way that all the papers were perfectly aligned with one another. “So, what are you saying?” he prompted carefully. “You think she’s faking all this?” his voice had dropped to a scratchy whisper.
Murdock rubbed a nervous hand through his hair, “What I’m sayin’ boss, is I think all these bits of paper been put in this file at the same time by the same person. I dunno if that means she’s fakin’ or not.” He shrugged and Hannibal stared at the closed folder. “I could find out though...” Murdock offered into the silence, very, very carefully.
Blue eyes looked up from the file and locked with grey. “Do it,” Hannibal ordered quietly.
“You sure?” Murdock asked.
“Positive. She might be his mother, but I don't trust her anymore, not one little tiny bit.”
Murdock nodded in agreement, and lifting the file up off the table, went in search of a photocopier.
_____________________________________
Face trailed a foot backwards and forwards in the sand under his feet as he wiped the condensation from the neck of his bottle of beer. She was late, forty minutes late, and if she wasn’t here in another five, he was calling Hannibal and getting him to pick him up early – no way was he hanging around any longer for her.
He’d managed to get one of the best tables at the Paradise Cove Beach Bar, right on the beach, but up in the corner, almost backing onto the cliffs so with an element of privacy that none of the other tables afforded, and all it had cost him was a smile. Talia, the waitress who’d got him this table and was only working here until she got her first acting job, wandered past yet again, smiling sympathetically at him, while wondering if he would take her out if his date never actually appeared. He turned his blue eyes on her and noticed the flush run across her cheeks, “Talia, honey,” he flashed his smile, “can I have another Bud when you have a minute?”
“You’d better bring a dry martini with you as well, dear,” came a voice from behind him, and Face knew that his expression fell just as much as Talia’s on hearing it. As the waitress moved off to comply, wondering what on earth the guy with the incredible smile saw in that old lady, Adele leaned over Face and air kissed theatrically before sliding into her seat and looking around with a scowl of disdain. “Really, Danny,” she said sourly, “was this the only place you could think of to meet? Couldn’t we at least have gone somewhere with a dress code?”
Resigning himself to the fact that she obviously wasn’t going to stop calling him Danny, Face felt a savage thrill of pleasure run through him at her words as he noted that her attire, navy halter neck sundress and white leather sling backs, was less than suited to beach dining. He himself couldn’t have been more comfortable, ratty denim cut offs, his old Ranger t-shirt in a dusky, khaki green and a beaten up Texas Rangers baseball cap that even Murdock wouldn’t wear anymore. He’d kicked his flip flops off his feet the second he’d sat down and was now digging his bare toes into the sand as he watched Adele looking him over, obviously not liking what she saw.
He was saved from the barb of her comment on his appearance by a now sullen Talia’s return and he had to stifle a smile as she slammed Adele’s martini down on the table with so much force that the little olive almost jumped into the sand. With yet another sympathetic smile, she set Face’s beer gently down on his drinks mat and disappeared across the sand, back into the main bar area. Face watched her go, wishing she would stay, wishing he could spend an hour in her company rather than Adele’s. But then, he mused to himself, there weren’t many people he wouldn’t choose over Adele; he wondered if Colonel Gadaffi was free tonight...
He still hadn’t spoken, was still unsure on how to play all of this, so instead he reached down onto his lap and pulled out the medical file, sliding it across the table towards her. “Yours, I believe,” he said quietly, not quite managing to meet her eyes. She seemed a little taken aback by his manner and he felt a flush of shame around his neck. Taking a deep breath he looked over at her, “So...” he cleared his throat, “leukaemia. That’s – not good,” he finished lamely.
Adele tilted her head to one side as she considered him, before sighing, long and loud. “No, it’s really not, but it’s a hopeless situation, so what can I do? I just have to accept my lot in life.”
Face took a swig of beer, “Why don't you have medical?” he asked bluntly.
For a second Adele looked a little harried, but she quickly got it back under control. “My husband dealt with all of that,” she told him sadly, “when he died, I just didn’t realise it hadn’t happened.”
They slipped into silence as Face considered this, staring out at the blue sea and the white waves. He thought about how it would be for him if Hannibal died, how lost he would feel, would he forget something like medical insurance? Probably. If something happened to Hannibal he knew he would probably forget to live. “Right,” he said, not meeting her eyes and wondering if she loved her husband anywhere near as much as he loved Hannibal.
“There are treatments,” Adele continued, “but without insurance, there’s no way I could cover the costs. It would run into millions of dollars...”
Face looked up sharply. Millions of dollars? That was the first he’d heard about costs being that high; of course he knew that health care was expensive, but even so. He suddenly found himself wishing he had that kind of money; if he had he would gladly pay it just to get her out of his life. The only reason he was sitting with her right now was the fact that he felt guilty, that she was dying and wanted to get to know him, and how could he deny a dying person anything? If he could save her life, he could get her out of his.
But maybe there was something he could do. Whenever the team were injured he had a stock of fake ids he used, always made sure he had a few in reserve along with passports, driver’s licences that sort of thing. Maybe he could do the same for Adele, maybe he could invent a whole new identity for her so she could have this expensive treatment whatever it was. For a minute the whole thing seemed a possibility but then he thought about the costs involved, and how stringent the checks would be for that kind of money. When he did this for the team it was always in a ‘hit and run’ type situation, they were long gone before anyone had even realised that they might not be who they said they were. For Adele, and the long term care that she would require, that wasn’t such a great option. But he would look into it, definitely, see what he could work out for her.
Adele watched him carefully as he stared out to sea; he really was beautiful. She could see lots of herself in him, but lots of his father as well, and found herself wondering for the first time which of his father’s traits he had inherited, if he was the same eternal do-gooder, the same door mat for the rest of humanity to walk over. She shook such memories from her mind as she saw him turn to her; a decision obviously made and steeled herself to react with awed, grateful shock when he offered her that money.
“I’ll look into some things for you,” he eventually offered and Adele found that she didn’t need to fake the shock at all, but unfortunately there was no need for the awe and thankfulness which she’d hoped would come with it.
She narrowed her eyes at him, appalled that his love of money would come between her and her life. “I’m sure there is nothing you can do,” she answered a little curtly, “unless you happen to have a few million tucked away in a bank somewhere that is.” Face laughed, a real genuine sign of amusement and Adele flushed, she’d never liked being unintentionally funny. “What?” she bit out.
Forcing back his laughter, Face took a swig of beer before gesturing down at himself, “Do I look like I have a few million dollars tucked away somewhere?” He shook his head, “Believe me, lady, if I did, I wouldn’t waste my time hanging around here waiting for the MPs to pick me up.”
Adele was still smarting from the fact that he hadn’t rushed to hand over the money for her medical treatment and so her next comment was a little sharper than it could have been. “It doesn’t matter how hard up you are,” she muttered, “I struggle to think of any reason to dress like a hobo.”
Face started at the harshness of her words but then let them just roll right off him. He didn’t care what she thought, he reminded himself. Hannibal had shoved him against the wall and slid his hands down the back of his shorts as he’d plundered his mouth when Face had come out of the bathroom ready to go out; he’d obviously approved of Face’s appearance, so what the fuck did it matter what Adele thought? And if he was honest with himself, he’d deliberately chosen his clothes to try his hardest to piss her off, so mission accomplished. He forced himself to offer up a flat grin and ignore the jabbing pain in his chest.
She shook her head at his supposed levity, “You are a good looking boy, I don’t see why you can’t make more of an effort. You have a girlfriend?”
Biting back the impulse to tell her to mind her own fucking business, Face just took a huge swig of beer and shook his head. Adele sighed theatrically, “I thought not. I’m not surprised though, what girl wants to go out with a scruffian? That rather thin waitress, I’ve seen the way she’s been looking at you, I’m sure she would go out with you if you just smartened yourself up a little, wore one of those lovely suits you had on before.”
Face was surprised that she’d even noticed what he’d been wearing on the other nights he’d seen her and was totally unprepared for the rush of warmth it spread, he savagely pushed it down. “I’m sure she’d go out with me whatever I’m wearing, dating is just a bit tricky for me at the moment.”
“Really?” Adele’s delicate forehead creased into a frown, “Why is that?”
Face looked at her for moment, “Wanted fugitive?” he prompted, wondering if she was winding him up.
“Oh, that!” Adele waved her hand dismissively, “I’m sure no one cares about that anymore, Danny! You’re old news! These terrorists that keep blowing up our schools, now they are the ones people are interested in. Maybe if you and your little band of fugitives caught yourself some terrorists, then that might make people think twice about sending you to jail!”
Face turned away in disgust and squinted back out to sea, trying really hard to remember an incident when terrorists had blown up a school on US soil and wondering what version of the news she watched, but Adele carried on regardless.
“It would be lovely if you would ask a nice girl out for dinner,” she told him, her voice an annoying little simper that he hadn’t heard before, “then we could double date.”
That got Face’s attention again, he turned back and squinted at her, “Double date?” he asked, perplexed, “Who with?”
Adele smiled coyly at him, “John,” she answered in a girlish whisper.
For just a second Face stared at her, trying to process what on earth she meant by John. It was almost as if... no – she couldn’t possibly mean... he raised his eyebrows at her and when she smiled sweetly back, he knew his incredible suspicions were confirmed. He burst out laughing, turning Adele’s smile into a deep frown. “What?” she spat at him downing the rest of her martini, “Why is that so damn funny?”
“Hannibal?” Face laughed, “You want me to double date with you and Hannibal?”
Adele pursed her lips at him, “I do wish you wouldn’t use those ridiculous names for each other, John is such a noble sounding name, Hannibal is plebeian.”
“Hannibal was a Carthaginian military commander and tactician, often regarded as the greatest military strategist ever. He wasn’t a plebe, he wasn’t even Roman, he hated the Romans.”
Shrugging, Adele waved Talia back over, “Whatever you say dear. John just sounds so much nicer, and why do you think it amusing that we would go out to dinner together?”
Now it was Face’s turn to frown, “He’s asked you?”
“No, not yet. Another martini, dear and this time make sure it’s cold, you want one, Danny darling?” Face cringed at the sickly sweet endearment she dropped on him in front of a scowling Talia and felt his hackles rise in response.
“No, thank you, mother,” he replied before turning his attention to the waitress, “Another, bud please Talia?” he winked and Talia beamed at him turning to sashay suggestively across the beach, knowing damn well he was watching her. He turned back to Adele and raised an eyebrow at her furious stare, “What?” he asked innocently.
“Don’t call me ‘mother’ in front of other people,” Adele hissed at him, “it makes me feel old!”
Face just laughed and bit down on the response he felt bubbling up in his throat. “But you think he will ask you though? Hannibal, I mean.”
Adele sat back in her seat, a tiny self satisfied smile creeping across her face to replace the scowl, “Of course he will, who could ever resist me?” she preened.
Face studied her very carefully for a moment, wondering at the hint of doubt he thought he saw in her eyes, before they were disturbed by Talia, looking much more cheerful now the relationship between her two customers had been spelt out for her, bringing their drinks over. “Who indeed?” he asked instead, before picking up his fresh, cold beer.
Next
________________________
AN: Ironic timing, but seeing tonight's news I think that Face will have to rethink his plans to ask Colonel Gadaffi out for drinks...!
They stepped into the kitchen to find BA and Murdock sat at the table, obviously waiting for them, with an atmosphere so thick you could cut it with a knife. Hannibal paused in the doorway, his keys still in his hand and Face walked into him as the boss’ eyes flicked from BA to Murdock and back again trying to weigh the situation up. “Boys,” he muttered, partly in greeting, partly in question and felt Face step up next to him, their fingers just brushing together ever so gently.
Within a second, BA was on his feet, his dark eyes narrowed at Face as he leaned over the table in a very menacing manner. “You,” he ground out in his deep voice, “are well outta order here, pretty boy!”
Murdock rose as well; his hand pushing aside a thick folder on the table top next to BA’s fist as he turned to Face, just as Hannibal reached a hand out, pressing firmly into the small of Face’s back. “Now, BA,” he started, but his words were ignored.
“Two hours!” BA exploded, eyes for no one but Face, “Two hours I had your momma cryin’ on my shoulder last night! Two hours, ‘cause she’s dyin’ and she told you an’ you don’t give a fuck!”
Hannibal and Murdock moved together, Hannibal moving his hand to Face’s arm and gripping tightly and Murdock shoving at BA’s massive chest, trying to get him to sit down.
“BA...” Hannibal warned just as Murdock hissed, “Enough Bosco!”
Face’s expression, however, was carefully blank and he just blinked as BA shook Murdock’s hand off and stalked around the table, trying to get right up into his personal space. There was, of course, no way that Hannibal was going to allow that, and even as Murdock dashed around the table himself, Hannibal stepped right in front of Face, both his hands reaching up to press against BA’s chest. “Stand down, Corporal,” he warned, his voice quiet but full of every bit of CO-ness he could muster.
“No!” BA growled, trying to get around Hannibal to Face, “He needs tellin’, Hannibal, had his head up his ass for too long now! This aint about him no more, it’s about her!”
“No,” Hannibal’s voice was calm and quiet as he kept himself between a still silent Face and a seething BA, “Her choice was to walk away, this is Face’s choice now.”
“She never had no choice, man!” BA exploded, “Just like she aint got no choice now! And it’s about time this fool stopped thinkin’ about himself and thought about some others for a change!”
That comment snapped Hannibal’s patience and Murdock could see the second his eyes turned into blue ice. “That’s just about enough, now Corporal!” he barked. “You do not have the right to speak to Face like that. You don't have the right to speak to any of this team like that.” The glare he shot at BA was openly hostile. “No one tells you how to run your life, BA and you will not tell Face how to run his. You understand that?”
BA shifted his eyes to Hannibal. “Well, it’s clear whose side you are on...” he muttered.
Hannibal ignored that jibe, “You understand that?” he repeated instead.
There was a second of tense silence before BA answered, “Yes, sir,” he muttered thickly, “I understand it all only too well!” and then he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.
For a beat, no one moved and then both Hannibal and Murdock froze as Face let out a long sigh and bent to pick up the bag he had dropped by the door. To the relief of both men in the room, he simply slung it over his shoulder and headed for the hallway and the stairs beyond. “I’m going to unpack,” he threw behind him as he disappeared. “You’d better phone her Hannibal, see if you can set something up for this afternoon before I change my mind. Outside. In daylight hours. If I have to meet the Queen of Darkness again, at least it’ll be on my terms this time.”
His footsteps faded up the stairs and Hannibal let out his own pent up breath before slumping into a seat and fishing his phone from his pocket.
“So,” Murdock slid back into his own seat, “it’s true then? She’s dyin’?”
Hannibal shook his head. “I guess so, Murdock. I mean that’s what she told Face, and I’m guessing after that little show, that’s what she told BA as well.”
Frowning, Murdock tapped the folder on the table. “She gave the big guy this as well.”
Tearing his eyes from his phone, Hannibal looked over at it. “Is that her medical file?” he asked incredulously.
“So she says,” Murdock answered evenly pushing the file over to Hannibal.
For the better part of ten minutes, neither of them spoke as Hannibal carefully leafed through all the letters, reports, prescriptions and bills in the folder before sighing and closing it up again. He looked carefully at Murdock. “So, you’ve seen all this, but you still ask me if it’s true?” Murdock shrugged and Hannibal frowned. “Come on captain,” he said quietly, “tell me what’s on your mind.”
Murdock returned his stare silently for a moment before folding his arms across his chest and tucking his hands tightly under his arms. “Dunno what you mean, boss.”
Hannibal held his gaze, “Murdock, I’m not going to yell at you here son, I genuinely want to know what’s going on.”
There was no missing the indecision in Murdock’s eyes, but then came the little exhale of air and a decision made. “That file boss,” he said quietly, his eyes staring at the file as if it could bite him, “it’s just...” he tailed off again and Hannibal waited silently. “It’s just, I aint never seen a file that neat before, you know?”
“Neat?” Now it was Hannibal’s turn to look confused. “Neat?” he queried, “Is that a problem?”
“Well,” Murdock was nervously chewing his cuticles, “Like I said, I’ve seen a lot of medical files in my time, Hannibal and I aint never seen one that neat.”
“Maybe she’s a neat freak?” Hannibal offered flatly.
Murdock shrugged, “But that don't make no difference, boss, ‘cause she aint the one who would be puttin’ all them bits o’ paper in there.” Hannibal’s eyes dropped to the file once more as Murdock continued. “All the office staff, they do the filin’ and they aint ever neat.” He leaned over and opened the folder pointing things out to Hannibal. “You see boss? The way all the paper lines up? The way that all them little holes have been punched in the same place? You tellin’ me that a loada different office clerks would make the effort to make stuff that neat?” He shook his head.
Hannibal looked at the file with new eyes and did indeed see the way that all the papers were perfectly aligned with one another. “So, what are you saying?” he prompted carefully. “You think she’s faking all this?” his voice had dropped to a scratchy whisper.
Murdock rubbed a nervous hand through his hair, “What I’m sayin’ boss, is I think all these bits of paper been put in this file at the same time by the same person. I dunno if that means she’s fakin’ or not.” He shrugged and Hannibal stared at the closed folder. “I could find out though...” Murdock offered into the silence, very, very carefully.
Blue eyes looked up from the file and locked with grey. “Do it,” Hannibal ordered quietly.
“You sure?” Murdock asked.
“Positive. She might be his mother, but I don't trust her anymore, not one little tiny bit.”
Murdock nodded in agreement, and lifting the file up off the table, went in search of a photocopier.
_____________________________________
Face trailed a foot backwards and forwards in the sand under his feet as he wiped the condensation from the neck of his bottle of beer. She was late, forty minutes late, and if she wasn’t here in another five, he was calling Hannibal and getting him to pick him up early – no way was he hanging around any longer for her.
He’d managed to get one of the best tables at the Paradise Cove Beach Bar, right on the beach, but up in the corner, almost backing onto the cliffs so with an element of privacy that none of the other tables afforded, and all it had cost him was a smile. Talia, the waitress who’d got him this table and was only working here until she got her first acting job, wandered past yet again, smiling sympathetically at him, while wondering if he would take her out if his date never actually appeared. He turned his blue eyes on her and noticed the flush run across her cheeks, “Talia, honey,” he flashed his smile, “can I have another Bud when you have a minute?”
“You’d better bring a dry martini with you as well, dear,” came a voice from behind him, and Face knew that his expression fell just as much as Talia’s on hearing it. As the waitress moved off to comply, wondering what on earth the guy with the incredible smile saw in that old lady, Adele leaned over Face and air kissed theatrically before sliding into her seat and looking around with a scowl of disdain. “Really, Danny,” she said sourly, “was this the only place you could think of to meet? Couldn’t we at least have gone somewhere with a dress code?”
Resigning himself to the fact that she obviously wasn’t going to stop calling him Danny, Face felt a savage thrill of pleasure run through him at her words as he noted that her attire, navy halter neck sundress and white leather sling backs, was less than suited to beach dining. He himself couldn’t have been more comfortable, ratty denim cut offs, his old Ranger t-shirt in a dusky, khaki green and a beaten up Texas Rangers baseball cap that even Murdock wouldn’t wear anymore. He’d kicked his flip flops off his feet the second he’d sat down and was now digging his bare toes into the sand as he watched Adele looking him over, obviously not liking what she saw.
He was saved from the barb of her comment on his appearance by a now sullen Talia’s return and he had to stifle a smile as she slammed Adele’s martini down on the table with so much force that the little olive almost jumped into the sand. With yet another sympathetic smile, she set Face’s beer gently down on his drinks mat and disappeared across the sand, back into the main bar area. Face watched her go, wishing she would stay, wishing he could spend an hour in her company rather than Adele’s. But then, he mused to himself, there weren’t many people he wouldn’t choose over Adele; he wondered if Colonel Gadaffi was free tonight...
He still hadn’t spoken, was still unsure on how to play all of this, so instead he reached down onto his lap and pulled out the medical file, sliding it across the table towards her. “Yours, I believe,” he said quietly, not quite managing to meet her eyes. She seemed a little taken aback by his manner and he felt a flush of shame around his neck. Taking a deep breath he looked over at her, “So...” he cleared his throat, “leukaemia. That’s – not good,” he finished lamely.
Adele tilted her head to one side as she considered him, before sighing, long and loud. “No, it’s really not, but it’s a hopeless situation, so what can I do? I just have to accept my lot in life.”
Face took a swig of beer, “Why don't you have medical?” he asked bluntly.
For a second Adele looked a little harried, but she quickly got it back under control. “My husband dealt with all of that,” she told him sadly, “when he died, I just didn’t realise it hadn’t happened.”
They slipped into silence as Face considered this, staring out at the blue sea and the white waves. He thought about how it would be for him if Hannibal died, how lost he would feel, would he forget something like medical insurance? Probably. If something happened to Hannibal he knew he would probably forget to live. “Right,” he said, not meeting her eyes and wondering if she loved her husband anywhere near as much as he loved Hannibal.
“There are treatments,” Adele continued, “but without insurance, there’s no way I could cover the costs. It would run into millions of dollars...”
Face looked up sharply. Millions of dollars? That was the first he’d heard about costs being that high; of course he knew that health care was expensive, but even so. He suddenly found himself wishing he had that kind of money; if he had he would gladly pay it just to get her out of his life. The only reason he was sitting with her right now was the fact that he felt guilty, that she was dying and wanted to get to know him, and how could he deny a dying person anything? If he could save her life, he could get her out of his.
But maybe there was something he could do. Whenever the team were injured he had a stock of fake ids he used, always made sure he had a few in reserve along with passports, driver’s licences that sort of thing. Maybe he could do the same for Adele, maybe he could invent a whole new identity for her so she could have this expensive treatment whatever it was. For a minute the whole thing seemed a possibility but then he thought about the costs involved, and how stringent the checks would be for that kind of money. When he did this for the team it was always in a ‘hit and run’ type situation, they were long gone before anyone had even realised that they might not be who they said they were. For Adele, and the long term care that she would require, that wasn’t such a great option. But he would look into it, definitely, see what he could work out for her.
Adele watched him carefully as he stared out to sea; he really was beautiful. She could see lots of herself in him, but lots of his father as well, and found herself wondering for the first time which of his father’s traits he had inherited, if he was the same eternal do-gooder, the same door mat for the rest of humanity to walk over. She shook such memories from her mind as she saw him turn to her; a decision obviously made and steeled herself to react with awed, grateful shock when he offered her that money.
“I’ll look into some things for you,” he eventually offered and Adele found that she didn’t need to fake the shock at all, but unfortunately there was no need for the awe and thankfulness which she’d hoped would come with it.
She narrowed her eyes at him, appalled that his love of money would come between her and her life. “I’m sure there is nothing you can do,” she answered a little curtly, “unless you happen to have a few million tucked away in a bank somewhere that is.” Face laughed, a real genuine sign of amusement and Adele flushed, she’d never liked being unintentionally funny. “What?” she bit out.
Forcing back his laughter, Face took a swig of beer before gesturing down at himself, “Do I look like I have a few million dollars tucked away somewhere?” He shook his head, “Believe me, lady, if I did, I wouldn’t waste my time hanging around here waiting for the MPs to pick me up.”
Adele was still smarting from the fact that he hadn’t rushed to hand over the money for her medical treatment and so her next comment was a little sharper than it could have been. “It doesn’t matter how hard up you are,” she muttered, “I struggle to think of any reason to dress like a hobo.”
Face started at the harshness of her words but then let them just roll right off him. He didn’t care what she thought, he reminded himself. Hannibal had shoved him against the wall and slid his hands down the back of his shorts as he’d plundered his mouth when Face had come out of the bathroom ready to go out; he’d obviously approved of Face’s appearance, so what the fuck did it matter what Adele thought? And if he was honest with himself, he’d deliberately chosen his clothes to try his hardest to piss her off, so mission accomplished. He forced himself to offer up a flat grin and ignore the jabbing pain in his chest.
She shook her head at his supposed levity, “You are a good looking boy, I don’t see why you can’t make more of an effort. You have a girlfriend?”
Biting back the impulse to tell her to mind her own fucking business, Face just took a huge swig of beer and shook his head. Adele sighed theatrically, “I thought not. I’m not surprised though, what girl wants to go out with a scruffian? That rather thin waitress, I’ve seen the way she’s been looking at you, I’m sure she would go out with you if you just smartened yourself up a little, wore one of those lovely suits you had on before.”
Face was surprised that she’d even noticed what he’d been wearing on the other nights he’d seen her and was totally unprepared for the rush of warmth it spread, he savagely pushed it down. “I’m sure she’d go out with me whatever I’m wearing, dating is just a bit tricky for me at the moment.”
“Really?” Adele’s delicate forehead creased into a frown, “Why is that?”
Face looked at her for moment, “Wanted fugitive?” he prompted, wondering if she was winding him up.
“Oh, that!” Adele waved her hand dismissively, “I’m sure no one cares about that anymore, Danny! You’re old news! These terrorists that keep blowing up our schools, now they are the ones people are interested in. Maybe if you and your little band of fugitives caught yourself some terrorists, then that might make people think twice about sending you to jail!”
Face turned away in disgust and squinted back out to sea, trying really hard to remember an incident when terrorists had blown up a school on US soil and wondering what version of the news she watched, but Adele carried on regardless.
“It would be lovely if you would ask a nice girl out for dinner,” she told him, her voice an annoying little simper that he hadn’t heard before, “then we could double date.”
That got Face’s attention again, he turned back and squinted at her, “Double date?” he asked, perplexed, “Who with?”
Adele smiled coyly at him, “John,” she answered in a girlish whisper.
For just a second Face stared at her, trying to process what on earth she meant by John. It was almost as if... no – she couldn’t possibly mean... he raised his eyebrows at her and when she smiled sweetly back, he knew his incredible suspicions were confirmed. He burst out laughing, turning Adele’s smile into a deep frown. “What?” she spat at him downing the rest of her martini, “Why is that so damn funny?”
“Hannibal?” Face laughed, “You want me to double date with you and Hannibal?”
Adele pursed her lips at him, “I do wish you wouldn’t use those ridiculous names for each other, John is such a noble sounding name, Hannibal is plebeian.”
“Hannibal was a Carthaginian military commander and tactician, often regarded as the greatest military strategist ever. He wasn’t a plebe, he wasn’t even Roman, he hated the Romans.”
Shrugging, Adele waved Talia back over, “Whatever you say dear. John just sounds so much nicer, and why do you think it amusing that we would go out to dinner together?”
Now it was Face’s turn to frown, “He’s asked you?”
“No, not yet. Another martini, dear and this time make sure it’s cold, you want one, Danny darling?” Face cringed at the sickly sweet endearment she dropped on him in front of a scowling Talia and felt his hackles rise in response.
“No, thank you, mother,” he replied before turning his attention to the waitress, “Another, bud please Talia?” he winked and Talia beamed at him turning to sashay suggestively across the beach, knowing damn well he was watching her. He turned back to Adele and raised an eyebrow at her furious stare, “What?” he asked innocently.
“Don’t call me ‘mother’ in front of other people,” Adele hissed at him, “it makes me feel old!”
Face just laughed and bit down on the response he felt bubbling up in his throat. “But you think he will ask you though? Hannibal, I mean.”
Adele sat back in her seat, a tiny self satisfied smile creeping across her face to replace the scowl, “Of course he will, who could ever resist me?” she preened.
Face studied her very carefully for a moment, wondering at the hint of doubt he thought he saw in her eyes, before they were disturbed by Talia, looking much more cheerful now the relationship between her two customers had been spelt out for her, bringing their drinks over. “Who indeed?” he asked instead, before picking up his fresh, cold beer.
Next
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AN: Ironic timing, but seeing tonight's news I think that Face will have to rethink his plans to ask Colonel Gadaffi out for drinks...!
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Date: 2011-10-20 10:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-21 09:32 pm (UTC)