A Mother's Love - Part Twenty Six
Nov. 2nd, 2011 10:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
indigo_angelsBA dropped them off and then reluctantly took the van and disappeared. He knew that Face was right, that his girl was just far too distinctive when it was so vital that Murdock stayed off the army’s radar while he was in hospital, but it didn’t mean he liked it.
It was obvious that Face knew what he was doing and he knew the kid well enough to realise that he would pull a better com without having to make up reasons for BA being there are well, but it still just felt so wrong to leave them both there and drive away.
He went a little way up the road and stopped, pulling over and calling Hannibal on his cell.
______________________________
It was just after one when Hannibal walked into the relative’s room with his guise of James Taylor’s father firmly in place and went straight to Face who was sitting on a plastic chair with a cold cup of coffee in his hand, looking lost and alone. He stood as Hannibal approached him and they embraced, knowing their cover gave them that right.
“How is he?” Hannibal asked as they separated, sinking back into separate seats, thighs pressed up close together.
“Still unconscious,” Face reported quietly. “They’ve pumped his stomach and he started to fit, so they’ve had to give him something for that. I’ve given them a list of all his meds but they are gonna run a full toxicology on his blood, see what else is in there.”
“Hmmm,” Hannibal frowned down at the lino floor, thinking over Face’s words carefully. Before he looked up and forced out a strained smile. “You did good with this, kid, all this planning. I had no idea how thorough you’ve been with it all.”
Face just nodded. “Always hoped I’d never need it...”
Hannibal quickly squeezed his thigh, “I know...”
The clock on the wall was ticking loudly and Hannibal found himself watching it as it marked each second, and trying to synchronise the little jumps of the hand with Face’s stressed breathing.
“I need to call Adele,” Face said into the silence. “Tell her I can’t go to New York anymore.”
Hannibal turned and looked at him. “You sure that’s the right thing to do?”
Face’s eyes widened, “How can I go stay with her with – James – like this?”
Sighing, Hannibal turned his eyes to the floor, “James will get better, right? We’ve been here before with him.”
“Not like this we haven’t,” Face interrupted, scowling, darkly.
“No,” Hannibal admitted. “Not like this, but the staff here will get him stabilised, and then they’ll sort his meds out again, and then we’ll take him home. Until the next time.” They looked bleakly at each other. “But your mother on the other hand,” he risked a hand just lightly trailing over onto Face’s knee, “she doesn’t have any second chances.”
Face looked crushed and his eyes slid back to the floor.
“You can’t tell her about Murdock,” Hannibal whispered, “and without a good excuse for not going she will be terribly hurt.”
“You want me to go?” Face asked loudly, the hurt clear in his eyes. “Now?”
“No,” Hannibal soothed, looking around cautiously, “I want you to stall,” he explained quietly. “Don’t say anything of any of this to her at all, don't tell her you’re thinking of changing your mind, just stall her for a bit, okay? String her along, but keep her happy.”
Face was confused. Why the hell should it matter to Hannibal what Adele was feeling? He frowned and was about to ask that very question when the doctor walked in and both men rose silently to their feet.
___________________________________
BA shouldered the door open, his arms full of take-out and Face flicked on the kitchen lights. He started grabbing plates from the dishwasher that, somehow, someone had remembered to switch on in the chaos of the morning and slammed them down on the counter.
“Hey,” BA grumbled good naturedly, “it aint them plates fault that Hannibal sent you home.”
“I’m not a fucking child,” Face seethed, upending curry pots onto plates, “don't see why he gets the right to stay with Murdock and I don’t.”
BA silently agreed with him, but knew that his agreement was the last thing Face needed to hear right now. “Because he’s the boss, Face, and he gets to decide what we all do.” He glanced across the kitchen as Face kicked the dishwasher closed with an unnecessary amount of force. “An’ if you aint a child, stop acting like one.”
He slid into a seat at the table, two cold beers in his hands just as Face plopped down in front of him and shoved a plate of curry and rice in his direction and from the look in Face’s eyes, BA knew he was lucky he hadn’t got it all over his head...
______________________________
Face didn’t sleep well at all, even with the Nyquil that BA had all but forced down his throat. He missed Hannibal like crazy, he was worried sick about Murdock, he was confused as to why Hannibal was so interested in what he’d told Adele, and why he’d insisted on BA picking Face up from the hospital rather than just getting a cab home, and he wanted to go to New York even less than ever now.
He finally went into the kitchen at seven a.m. wondering what time Hannibal would call with an update and found BA sitting silently at the kitchen table, looking every inch as miserable as Face felt. He froze in the doorway, and gripped the cuffs of Hannibal’s sweatshirt hard where they hung over his hands, “Murdock...?” he whispered, dreading hearing the answer.
BA looked up, “No news,” he replied flatly. “I just couldn’t sleep, thought I’d get up and wait for Hannibal to call.”
Face felt a wave of sympathy crash over him then, he’d been so caught up in his own misery, his woes with Adele and Hannibal and Murdock, that he’d hardly given the big guy a second thought. BA took his role of chief protector very seriously indeed, and when something got past him, hurt one of his team, he hated that, hated it even more if he just had to sit around and wait for answers and couldn’t pound someone until it was all fixed. Walking around behind him, Face squeezed a shoulder sympathetically and started getting bacon, sausage, eggs and tomatoes out of the fridge.
“What you doing’, man?” BA’s low voice reached him as he rooted around for some mushrooms in the veg box.
“Gonna make you breakfast,” Face replied with false cheer, straightening up with a few wizened grey things in his hands and turning to appraise BA’s frankly terrified expression. “Come on big guy,” he muttered with a scowl as he flicked the grill on, “my cooking isn’t that bad.”
Face didn’t cook that much, it wasn’t that he couldn’t it was just that Murdock liked to, so they tended to let him. And generally, that wasn’t such a bad thing; you could ignore the odd shot of a noxious substance in there as long as most days the things he served up were made entirely of recognised food stuff. It was also enlightening in some ways, who ever would have thought that pizza topped with bacon and marshmallows would actually taste glorious? So by the time that Face had finished preparing a mountain of food, automatically making enough for four even though it was just the two of them, even BA admitted it all smelt and looked good.
Eventually, they pushed their plates away and Face sat looking morosely at the leftover food and thinking again of Murdock as BA cleared up around him.
“Not bad, pretty boy,” the voice from the fridge told him, “for someone who don’t use no fat to cook with.”
“I do use fat,” Face slipped into the gentle, familiar teasing like pulling on a favourite blanket, “I just use a higher class, it’s called olive oil. Not everyone uses beef dripping you know BA.”
BA’s low chuckle drew a smile from Face and he felt a sliver of the tension run off him, maybe Hannibal was right, maybe all this would eventually work out for the best, and then his phone rang. He snatched it from his pocket, almost dropping it in his haste to get it out, but then paused in confusion as he read the caller i.d. “It’s Miguel...” he told BA as he opened the slider and BA frowned.
“The guy from the lab?”
Face nodded as he answered, “Hey, Miguel, what can I do for you?”
BA sank into the seat next to Face as Face moved the phone from his ear so they could both hear the call. Miguel was Hannibal’s tame lab technician, Face knew. He’d served with him, back in the first Desert Storm until he lost a foot to an IED and managed to pull his life back together doing some kind of biochemistry course. He was a useful ally and had done all kinds of favours for them over the past few years, including, Hannibal had told him, the DNA test that had linked him to Adele. His heart started to pound hard in his chest, maybe there had been a mistake, maybe he and Adele weren’t related at all, maybe Face could just let her go, never have to see her ever again...
“Face, my man!” Miguel’s cheery voice came back to him. “I’m trying to get hold of the bossman, but his phone aint on, aint been on yesterday either. What’s happenin’?”
Face and BA traded looks, “Nothing much,” Face lied, “he’s just on a job, undercover you know, so he can’t answer his phone.”
“Riiiiight,” Miguel drawled. “Well I got some results for him, said he needed them real soon. If I give them to you, kid, will you pass them on?”
“Sure thing,” Face said, waving his hands at BA for a pen and some paper, and frowning as he wondered what tests Hannibal had asked for without telling him.
“Okay,” Miguel rustled some papers his end. “Well, he gave me a whole bunch of stuff to test, lookin’ for somethin’ odd he told me, not very helpful kid, I can tell you.” Face waited in silence, pen poised. “And everything was clear, just as it should be, except for one thing,” again Face and BA traded looks. “One of the samples came back, real, real heavy in Salvia divinorum.”
Face scribbled that down, frowning again, “Salvia divinorum? I’ve never heard of that, what is it?”
“Salvia Divinorum, AKA Diviner’s Sage. It’s a psycho-active plant, causes hallucinations, delirium, dissasociative behaviour, that kind of thing. Not nice.”
Two pairs of eyes, one blue, one brown stared at each other in shared understanding.
“Oh, okay then,” Face said into his phone, trying to keep his tone level. “I’ll let him know. So, what was the sample then? With this,” he read his note carefully, “Salvia divinorum in it?”
“It was, ah, hang on, kid, I’ve got it here somewhere...” Face tapped his fingers impatiently, he needed to call Hannibal with this news, but of course Hannibal had his phone switched off didn’t he? Well in that case he and BA would drive over there straight away, this was obviously what had caused Murdock’s recent unstable behaviour, they had to make sure the hospital staff knew what he’d been taking, and then they could treat it and Murdock could come home. “Got it!” Face had almost forgotten he was still waiting for Miguel’s answer. “Okay, kid,” Face had his pen poised, ready to run out of the door the second that Miguel spoke, “it was the... elderflower cordial.” And Face dropped his phone.
BA took over, making Face’s excuses when it became clear that the kid wasn’t going to pick up his phone, wasn’t going to do anything other than sit, chalk white, his fingers gripping the edge of the table and look like he was trying not to throw up. BA kept on shooting him concerned glances as he finally managed to thank Miguel enough and get him off the line before he turned to Face who was now shaking where he sat.
“Faceman?” BA prompted, holding onto Face’s shoulder hard and trying to look into his eyes. “What’s up man, what is it.”
“The cordial,” Face breathed, looking like he was about to start hyperventilating, “it was poisoned...”
“I know,” BA frowned, “it’s a load of shit, man. You think it was one of those animal rights groups again? Food terrorists or whatever they call themselves?”
Face just stared at him, “Adele bought that. She knew he liked it, and she bought him it.”
BA frowned, “Well, she’s a nice lady your momma, Face, I keep tellin’ you that!” Face didn’t move and BA frowned again, “What? You worried she been drinking it as well? Call her up; tell her to get herself checked out.”
Still as white as a sheet, Face shook his head, “She gave it to me, knowing I would give it to him. It was meant for him, the drug...”
There was a heavy silence, “Face,” and the edge to BA’s voice was impossible to miss, “are you accusin’ her of what I think you are?”
But Face didn’t answer, he couldn’t and BA just shook his head. “You as crazy as Murdock, man!” He stood up from the table. “I’m gonna go an’ see if there’s any o’ that drink left in his room and tip it down the sink, and then we’re gonna go an’ see the boss and tell him what Miguel told us. Right?” Face still didn’t respond so BA snatched up the van keys as a precaution and jogged up the stairs to Murdock’s room.
He was gone a long, long time, but Face hardly even noticed. He was still sitting in exactly the same position as BA had left him, going over the facts as he saw them over and over in his head. By the time the kitchen door swung open and BA walked slowly back in, dropping heavily into the seat next to him, he was utterly and totally convinced that his mother had deliberately drugged Murdock with a psycho-active substance, he just still couldn’t work out why.
He turned to BA and frowned, looking at the stunned expression on the other man’s face. He was holding a large, fat, brown envelope tightly in his hand and he pushed it over the table towards Face, his hands shaking just a little and Face was instantly on edge. “Bosco?” he asked cautiously.
“Found this under Crazy’s bed,” BA muttered. “It’s your mom’s medical file.”
Face sighed, “I’ve seen it BA, I’ve read it. I-” and then he stopped. “In fact I gave her it back! So where did Murdock get this one?”
“It’s a different one, Face, this one,” he swallowed hard, “it looks like this is the real one, and the other one musta been a fake.”
“What?” Face exclaimed, snatching up the file and leafing through it.
There was silence between them as Face flicked frantically back and forth through the file, looking for what he wasn’t sure, but then, still tucked in the envelope he’d pulled the file from, he found it. A letter addressed to Dr. M. Dock of Sunshine Medical Centre, LA, forwarding the notes of his new patient, Mrs. Adele Armando and reassuring Dr. Dock, that Mrs. Armando was in the very best of health and most certainly did not have leukaemia or any other life threatening illness either for that matter.
Again, Face thought he was going to throw up, and in a stunned silence, he handed the letter to BA. “I know,” BA answered quietly. “I read it upstairs.”
Staring hard at the table top, even as his eyes started to blur, Face eventually whispered, “She lied to me, Bosco. She told me she was dying and it was all just a fucking lie!” The anger came with the last couple of words and he looked up, eyes ablaze, jaw set and angrily wiped at a stray tear. “And Murdock must have known, must have tried to warn her off so she decided to send him on a little trip, make sure no one would believe anything he told us!”
BA just stared at him, knowing every word was true. “Face... Shit, I’m so sorry, man...”
Face just shook his head, he wasn’t in the mood for sorry, he was in the mood for yelling. “And he knew there was something wrong with him, that’s why he took all those stupid tablets, trying to keep himself even, could have damn well killed himself!” BA watched as Face’s eyes narrowed dangerously, “But it wouldn’t have been him though would it? It would have been her. She almost killed him, BA, her and her fucking stupid lies and games!” and here was the yelling, “What the fuck was she playing at? And I never thought to tell him that she’d bought that fucking drink for him, bet he thought it was from me. Maybe if I’d said something he’d have known not to drink it! Damn her!” Face picked up his cup and threw it hard against the tiled wall where it shattered into a million pieces.
He got to his feet, the anger blazing hot from every pore and took a step towards the door. “Where are you going, Face?” BA asked quietly, knowing that he was a firecracker, just waiting to explode.
“I think it’s about time I had a few words with that mother of mine, BA.”
BA shook his head, “Not now. Not until you calm down.”
Face turned and raised an eye at him, “What? You treating me like a child as well now, Bosco? You don’t think I deserve some answers?”
BA sighed, knowing that answers were the very least that Face deserved from her. “Just wait ‘til you calm down a bit Faceman, that’s all.”
“What do you think I’m gonna do, BA? Punch her lights out?”
Face had a point and BA felt himself wavering. He knew that the kid was ridiculously chivalrous at heart, could never hurt a woman. He’d had that thrust brutally in his face when Face had refused to shoot a suspected suicide bomber in Iraq as she walked to her target just because she was female. Instead he’d run her down and tackled her to the ground in a deserted alley, so, so, lucky that she hadn’t been able to set off the device strapped to her chest and blast them both into pieces. BA had never heard Hannibal yell like that at anyone before and Face had just stood there and taken it and BA knew damn well, that if the same situation had arisen the next day, the kid would have done exactly the same thing again.
He shook his head, “So what are you gonna do then, Face?”
“Talk to her,” Face’s voice had dropped again, along with some of his anger. “Ask her just what the fuck she has been doing, playing with me like this.”
BA could see the desperation in his eyes and knew that, in his place, BA would want the exact same thing. “Just wait until you’ve seen the bossman, hey, Face? Talk about this with him.”
But Face shook his head, hard. “No. What if she already knows about Murdock? What if she runs? Where will I get my answers from then, hey, BA?”
Sighing, BA scrubbed at his Mohawk and knew he was beaten. “Alright,” he said quietly, “but let me drop you at her hotel, okay? And then I’ll go straight to the hospital and tell Hannibal all of this.”
Face nodded and stuffed his phone back into his pocket before gesturing at the doorway. “No problem at all, big guy – lead the way.” And with a heavy heart and an even heavier conscience for all the times he ragged Face over Adele, BA stepped out into the sunshine.
Next
It was obvious that Face knew what he was doing and he knew the kid well enough to realise that he would pull a better com without having to make up reasons for BA being there are well, but it still just felt so wrong to leave them both there and drive away.
He went a little way up the road and stopped, pulling over and calling Hannibal on his cell.
______________________________
It was just after one when Hannibal walked into the relative’s room with his guise of James Taylor’s father firmly in place and went straight to Face who was sitting on a plastic chair with a cold cup of coffee in his hand, looking lost and alone. He stood as Hannibal approached him and they embraced, knowing their cover gave them that right.
“How is he?” Hannibal asked as they separated, sinking back into separate seats, thighs pressed up close together.
“Still unconscious,” Face reported quietly. “They’ve pumped his stomach and he started to fit, so they’ve had to give him something for that. I’ve given them a list of all his meds but they are gonna run a full toxicology on his blood, see what else is in there.”
“Hmmm,” Hannibal frowned down at the lino floor, thinking over Face’s words carefully. Before he looked up and forced out a strained smile. “You did good with this, kid, all this planning. I had no idea how thorough you’ve been with it all.”
Face just nodded. “Always hoped I’d never need it...”
Hannibal quickly squeezed his thigh, “I know...”
The clock on the wall was ticking loudly and Hannibal found himself watching it as it marked each second, and trying to synchronise the little jumps of the hand with Face’s stressed breathing.
“I need to call Adele,” Face said into the silence. “Tell her I can’t go to New York anymore.”
Hannibal turned and looked at him. “You sure that’s the right thing to do?”
Face’s eyes widened, “How can I go stay with her with – James – like this?”
Sighing, Hannibal turned his eyes to the floor, “James will get better, right? We’ve been here before with him.”
“Not like this we haven’t,” Face interrupted, scowling, darkly.
“No,” Hannibal admitted. “Not like this, but the staff here will get him stabilised, and then they’ll sort his meds out again, and then we’ll take him home. Until the next time.” They looked bleakly at each other. “But your mother on the other hand,” he risked a hand just lightly trailing over onto Face’s knee, “she doesn’t have any second chances.”
Face looked crushed and his eyes slid back to the floor.
“You can’t tell her about Murdock,” Hannibal whispered, “and without a good excuse for not going she will be terribly hurt.”
“You want me to go?” Face asked loudly, the hurt clear in his eyes. “Now?”
“No,” Hannibal soothed, looking around cautiously, “I want you to stall,” he explained quietly. “Don’t say anything of any of this to her at all, don't tell her you’re thinking of changing your mind, just stall her for a bit, okay? String her along, but keep her happy.”
Face was confused. Why the hell should it matter to Hannibal what Adele was feeling? He frowned and was about to ask that very question when the doctor walked in and both men rose silently to their feet.
___________________________________
BA shouldered the door open, his arms full of take-out and Face flicked on the kitchen lights. He started grabbing plates from the dishwasher that, somehow, someone had remembered to switch on in the chaos of the morning and slammed them down on the counter.
“Hey,” BA grumbled good naturedly, “it aint them plates fault that Hannibal sent you home.”
“I’m not a fucking child,” Face seethed, upending curry pots onto plates, “don't see why he gets the right to stay with Murdock and I don’t.”
BA silently agreed with him, but knew that his agreement was the last thing Face needed to hear right now. “Because he’s the boss, Face, and he gets to decide what we all do.” He glanced across the kitchen as Face kicked the dishwasher closed with an unnecessary amount of force. “An’ if you aint a child, stop acting like one.”
He slid into a seat at the table, two cold beers in his hands just as Face plopped down in front of him and shoved a plate of curry and rice in his direction and from the look in Face’s eyes, BA knew he was lucky he hadn’t got it all over his head...
______________________________
Face didn’t sleep well at all, even with the Nyquil that BA had all but forced down his throat. He missed Hannibal like crazy, he was worried sick about Murdock, he was confused as to why Hannibal was so interested in what he’d told Adele, and why he’d insisted on BA picking Face up from the hospital rather than just getting a cab home, and he wanted to go to New York even less than ever now.
He finally went into the kitchen at seven a.m. wondering what time Hannibal would call with an update and found BA sitting silently at the kitchen table, looking every inch as miserable as Face felt. He froze in the doorway, and gripped the cuffs of Hannibal’s sweatshirt hard where they hung over his hands, “Murdock...?” he whispered, dreading hearing the answer.
BA looked up, “No news,” he replied flatly. “I just couldn’t sleep, thought I’d get up and wait for Hannibal to call.”
Face felt a wave of sympathy crash over him then, he’d been so caught up in his own misery, his woes with Adele and Hannibal and Murdock, that he’d hardly given the big guy a second thought. BA took his role of chief protector very seriously indeed, and when something got past him, hurt one of his team, he hated that, hated it even more if he just had to sit around and wait for answers and couldn’t pound someone until it was all fixed. Walking around behind him, Face squeezed a shoulder sympathetically and started getting bacon, sausage, eggs and tomatoes out of the fridge.
“What you doing’, man?” BA’s low voice reached him as he rooted around for some mushrooms in the veg box.
“Gonna make you breakfast,” Face replied with false cheer, straightening up with a few wizened grey things in his hands and turning to appraise BA’s frankly terrified expression. “Come on big guy,” he muttered with a scowl as he flicked the grill on, “my cooking isn’t that bad.”
Face didn’t cook that much, it wasn’t that he couldn’t it was just that Murdock liked to, so they tended to let him. And generally, that wasn’t such a bad thing; you could ignore the odd shot of a noxious substance in there as long as most days the things he served up were made entirely of recognised food stuff. It was also enlightening in some ways, who ever would have thought that pizza topped with bacon and marshmallows would actually taste glorious? So by the time that Face had finished preparing a mountain of food, automatically making enough for four even though it was just the two of them, even BA admitted it all smelt and looked good.
Eventually, they pushed their plates away and Face sat looking morosely at the leftover food and thinking again of Murdock as BA cleared up around him.
“Not bad, pretty boy,” the voice from the fridge told him, “for someone who don’t use no fat to cook with.”
“I do use fat,” Face slipped into the gentle, familiar teasing like pulling on a favourite blanket, “I just use a higher class, it’s called olive oil. Not everyone uses beef dripping you know BA.”
BA’s low chuckle drew a smile from Face and he felt a sliver of the tension run off him, maybe Hannibal was right, maybe all this would eventually work out for the best, and then his phone rang. He snatched it from his pocket, almost dropping it in his haste to get it out, but then paused in confusion as he read the caller i.d. “It’s Miguel...” he told BA as he opened the slider and BA frowned.
“The guy from the lab?”
Face nodded as he answered, “Hey, Miguel, what can I do for you?”
BA sank into the seat next to Face as Face moved the phone from his ear so they could both hear the call. Miguel was Hannibal’s tame lab technician, Face knew. He’d served with him, back in the first Desert Storm until he lost a foot to an IED and managed to pull his life back together doing some kind of biochemistry course. He was a useful ally and had done all kinds of favours for them over the past few years, including, Hannibal had told him, the DNA test that had linked him to Adele. His heart started to pound hard in his chest, maybe there had been a mistake, maybe he and Adele weren’t related at all, maybe Face could just let her go, never have to see her ever again...
“Face, my man!” Miguel’s cheery voice came back to him. “I’m trying to get hold of the bossman, but his phone aint on, aint been on yesterday either. What’s happenin’?”
Face and BA traded looks, “Nothing much,” Face lied, “he’s just on a job, undercover you know, so he can’t answer his phone.”
“Riiiiight,” Miguel drawled. “Well I got some results for him, said he needed them real soon. If I give them to you, kid, will you pass them on?”
“Sure thing,” Face said, waving his hands at BA for a pen and some paper, and frowning as he wondered what tests Hannibal had asked for without telling him.
“Okay,” Miguel rustled some papers his end. “Well, he gave me a whole bunch of stuff to test, lookin’ for somethin’ odd he told me, not very helpful kid, I can tell you.” Face waited in silence, pen poised. “And everything was clear, just as it should be, except for one thing,” again Face and BA traded looks. “One of the samples came back, real, real heavy in Salvia divinorum.”
Face scribbled that down, frowning again, “Salvia divinorum? I’ve never heard of that, what is it?”
“Salvia Divinorum, AKA Diviner’s Sage. It’s a psycho-active plant, causes hallucinations, delirium, dissasociative behaviour, that kind of thing. Not nice.”
Two pairs of eyes, one blue, one brown stared at each other in shared understanding.
“Oh, okay then,” Face said into his phone, trying to keep his tone level. “I’ll let him know. So, what was the sample then? With this,” he read his note carefully, “Salvia divinorum in it?”
“It was, ah, hang on, kid, I’ve got it here somewhere...” Face tapped his fingers impatiently, he needed to call Hannibal with this news, but of course Hannibal had his phone switched off didn’t he? Well in that case he and BA would drive over there straight away, this was obviously what had caused Murdock’s recent unstable behaviour, they had to make sure the hospital staff knew what he’d been taking, and then they could treat it and Murdock could come home. “Got it!” Face had almost forgotten he was still waiting for Miguel’s answer. “Okay, kid,” Face had his pen poised, ready to run out of the door the second that Miguel spoke, “it was the... elderflower cordial.” And Face dropped his phone.
BA took over, making Face’s excuses when it became clear that the kid wasn’t going to pick up his phone, wasn’t going to do anything other than sit, chalk white, his fingers gripping the edge of the table and look like he was trying not to throw up. BA kept on shooting him concerned glances as he finally managed to thank Miguel enough and get him off the line before he turned to Face who was now shaking where he sat.
“Faceman?” BA prompted, holding onto Face’s shoulder hard and trying to look into his eyes. “What’s up man, what is it.”
“The cordial,” Face breathed, looking like he was about to start hyperventilating, “it was poisoned...”
“I know,” BA frowned, “it’s a load of shit, man. You think it was one of those animal rights groups again? Food terrorists or whatever they call themselves?”
Face just stared at him, “Adele bought that. She knew he liked it, and she bought him it.”
BA frowned, “Well, she’s a nice lady your momma, Face, I keep tellin’ you that!” Face didn’t move and BA frowned again, “What? You worried she been drinking it as well? Call her up; tell her to get herself checked out.”
Still as white as a sheet, Face shook his head, “She gave it to me, knowing I would give it to him. It was meant for him, the drug...”
There was a heavy silence, “Face,” and the edge to BA’s voice was impossible to miss, “are you accusin’ her of what I think you are?”
But Face didn’t answer, he couldn’t and BA just shook his head. “You as crazy as Murdock, man!” He stood up from the table. “I’m gonna go an’ see if there’s any o’ that drink left in his room and tip it down the sink, and then we’re gonna go an’ see the boss and tell him what Miguel told us. Right?” Face still didn’t respond so BA snatched up the van keys as a precaution and jogged up the stairs to Murdock’s room.
He was gone a long, long time, but Face hardly even noticed. He was still sitting in exactly the same position as BA had left him, going over the facts as he saw them over and over in his head. By the time the kitchen door swung open and BA walked slowly back in, dropping heavily into the seat next to him, he was utterly and totally convinced that his mother had deliberately drugged Murdock with a psycho-active substance, he just still couldn’t work out why.
He turned to BA and frowned, looking at the stunned expression on the other man’s face. He was holding a large, fat, brown envelope tightly in his hand and he pushed it over the table towards Face, his hands shaking just a little and Face was instantly on edge. “Bosco?” he asked cautiously.
“Found this under Crazy’s bed,” BA muttered. “It’s your mom’s medical file.”
Face sighed, “I’ve seen it BA, I’ve read it. I-” and then he stopped. “In fact I gave her it back! So where did Murdock get this one?”
“It’s a different one, Face, this one,” he swallowed hard, “it looks like this is the real one, and the other one musta been a fake.”
“What?” Face exclaimed, snatching up the file and leafing through it.
There was silence between them as Face flicked frantically back and forth through the file, looking for what he wasn’t sure, but then, still tucked in the envelope he’d pulled the file from, he found it. A letter addressed to Dr. M. Dock of Sunshine Medical Centre, LA, forwarding the notes of his new patient, Mrs. Adele Armando and reassuring Dr. Dock, that Mrs. Armando was in the very best of health and most certainly did not have leukaemia or any other life threatening illness either for that matter.
Again, Face thought he was going to throw up, and in a stunned silence, he handed the letter to BA. “I know,” BA answered quietly. “I read it upstairs.”
Staring hard at the table top, even as his eyes started to blur, Face eventually whispered, “She lied to me, Bosco. She told me she was dying and it was all just a fucking lie!” The anger came with the last couple of words and he looked up, eyes ablaze, jaw set and angrily wiped at a stray tear. “And Murdock must have known, must have tried to warn her off so she decided to send him on a little trip, make sure no one would believe anything he told us!”
BA just stared at him, knowing every word was true. “Face... Shit, I’m so sorry, man...”
Face just shook his head, he wasn’t in the mood for sorry, he was in the mood for yelling. “And he knew there was something wrong with him, that’s why he took all those stupid tablets, trying to keep himself even, could have damn well killed himself!” BA watched as Face’s eyes narrowed dangerously, “But it wouldn’t have been him though would it? It would have been her. She almost killed him, BA, her and her fucking stupid lies and games!” and here was the yelling, “What the fuck was she playing at? And I never thought to tell him that she’d bought that fucking drink for him, bet he thought it was from me. Maybe if I’d said something he’d have known not to drink it! Damn her!” Face picked up his cup and threw it hard against the tiled wall where it shattered into a million pieces.
He got to his feet, the anger blazing hot from every pore and took a step towards the door. “Where are you going, Face?” BA asked quietly, knowing that he was a firecracker, just waiting to explode.
“I think it’s about time I had a few words with that mother of mine, BA.”
BA shook his head, “Not now. Not until you calm down.”
Face turned and raised an eye at him, “What? You treating me like a child as well now, Bosco? You don’t think I deserve some answers?”
BA sighed, knowing that answers were the very least that Face deserved from her. “Just wait ‘til you calm down a bit Faceman, that’s all.”
“What do you think I’m gonna do, BA? Punch her lights out?”
Face had a point and BA felt himself wavering. He knew that the kid was ridiculously chivalrous at heart, could never hurt a woman. He’d had that thrust brutally in his face when Face had refused to shoot a suspected suicide bomber in Iraq as she walked to her target just because she was female. Instead he’d run her down and tackled her to the ground in a deserted alley, so, so, lucky that she hadn’t been able to set off the device strapped to her chest and blast them both into pieces. BA had never heard Hannibal yell like that at anyone before and Face had just stood there and taken it and BA knew damn well, that if the same situation had arisen the next day, the kid would have done exactly the same thing again.
He shook his head, “So what are you gonna do then, Face?”
“Talk to her,” Face’s voice had dropped again, along with some of his anger. “Ask her just what the fuck she has been doing, playing with me like this.”
BA could see the desperation in his eyes and knew that, in his place, BA would want the exact same thing. “Just wait until you’ve seen the bossman, hey, Face? Talk about this with him.”
But Face shook his head, hard. “No. What if she already knows about Murdock? What if she runs? Where will I get my answers from then, hey, BA?”
Sighing, BA scrubbed at his Mohawk and knew he was beaten. “Alright,” he said quietly, “but let me drop you at her hotel, okay? And then I’ll go straight to the hospital and tell Hannibal all of this.”
Face nodded and stuffed his phone back into his pocket before gesturing at the doorway. “No problem at all, big guy – lead the way.” And with a heavy heart and an even heavier conscience for all the times he ragged Face over Adele, BA stepped out into the sunshine.
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Date: 2011-11-03 05:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-11-04 08:33 pm (UTC)