indigo_angels

Face finally takes that risk too far, and Hannibal comes face to face with his worst nightmare.
5,860 words. No particular warnings.

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Face stood at the top of the quarry and looked down; squinting into the setting sun as he tried to work out what was going on. He’d done his job, taken out the stragglers as they’d come in from the west, they were now tied back to back on the dusty ground next to his ruined jeep. And that was something he was incredibly pissed about, he was only supposed to be borrowing the damn thing until tomorrow, but now he knew he’d never be able to show his face around that parking lot again, and they’d always let him borrow such cool cars.

He frowned as indistinct shouts drifted over from the far side of the quarry and Face made his mind up. Something wasn’t right, they should have been done by now, had the whole situation tied up along with the drug runners who were using this quarry to hide their gear and bury their enemies. The sun made it hard to see, but Face realised that Hannibal’s plan may not be proceeding as smoothly as they would have liked, nothing new there then, he tucked his gun into the back of his jeans and walked past his squirming captives to haul the rope from the jeep.

Of course if those bastards hadn’t shot his engine up, he could simply have driven around to the other side of the quarry and down the track there into the bottom, but no, that was impossible now, even if he ran flat out it would take him at least fifteen minutes to get around and then down, far too long to be of help. He needed to go over the edge and straight across the floor of the quarry, that way he’d be close enough to lend a hand in about five minutes.

Ignoring the squirming drug runners who were no doubt wishing him to hell from behind their gags, he rooted about in the back of the jeep and came out with three lengths of rope. The first, he made sure was secure in its skein and then slung it across his chest, pulling one arm though to make sure it wouldn’t fall while he was rappelling down. The second, he tied into a loop and then stepped into it, pulling three further loops, one from each side of his waist and one from between his legs, tugging them all tight and tying the loops off in front on him, right up against his belly. Finally he took the third rope and secured it to the towing loop on the back of the jeep, threaded it through the loop on the front of his improvised harness then wound it around his hips once before leaving the excess in a skein in his left hand. Then, with a broad smile to the men watching him from the shade of the jeep, he walked to the edge of the quarry and stepped over.

Face liked rappelling, he liked anything that got his adrenalin flowing, but he always preferred using a proper harness than these improvised things that threatened to cut off the blood supply to very, very important areas. With a smile on his lips at that thought and what Hannibal would say about it, he continued his descent, faster than he probably should do, feeling the setting sun on his back and the warm wind in his hair.

Then he felt the jolt and all enjoyment of the situation abruptly vanished. He stopped and looked up, his heart speeding up as the saw the old rope up above him, wearing itself thin as it rubbed on a jagged outcropping of rock. He frowned and skipped sideways, feeling the harness biting into his things and butt, trying to dislodge the rope from the snag, but managing instead to cut through another few threads of safety. He looked down, still about seventy meters to go, he’d die for sure if he fell that far, landing on the jagged boulders below and his heart speeded up even more.

He looked up, wondering how quickly he could climb back out, but realised that was a non-starter the second he reached out to take a hold of the sides of the quarry and they just crumbled under his fingers. He stopped, forced himself not to panic and looked around for some inspiration before he fell to his certain death. And then he saw it, another five meters to his left and slightly above him, just about reachable if the rope held out, a sapling, growing right out of a crevice in the rocks and Face hoped it was holding on as tightly as looked like it was.

Holding his breath, knowing that at any second he could fall, he edges sideways, ignoring the thought of the fraying rope and concentrating on that tiny tree instead. Once he gauged he was in reaching distance he had to stop himself from making a mad leap and grab for it, instead keeping his pace as fast as he could, but steady, until he was close enough to wrap his hand around the slender trunk, right down near the base of the tree.

He breathed a sigh of relief and felt his heart calm slightly as he anchored his feet to the sides, letting the sapling slowly take his weight as he fumbled to one handedly unwind the spare rope from his chest and shoulder. It was awkward, without letting go, Face couldn’t get it over his shoulder easily, and instead had to unwind it, loop by loop, reluctant to trust the now very frayed first rope with any of his weight at all. Eventually he was done, feeling the wind cooling the nervous sweat from his back, Face started to wrap the new rope around the base of the sapling, looping his elbow over the smooth bark so that he had two hands free with which to tie it off, and then the last thing that would make him safe, looping it around his chest, right up under his arms, twisting the rope so that it would slide as he descended.

Finally done. He slowly eased his aching arm off the sapling and let the rope around his chest take the weight now; keeping his feet braced against the quarry walls, and sighed with relief when the tree, the ropes and his feet all held up.

Deciding to keep the original harness on as a safety, Face started edging down again, very slowly this time, little shuffling steps, letting the rope biting into his back and underarms take his weight, knowing that each second took him closer and closer to safety.

He was making good progress, still just over about forty meters to go when his foot slipped as the rock crumbled beneath him. His body twisted with the force of the jolt and the makeshift harness jumped up, yanking Face’s arm up with it, twisting it up and back and Face could feel it slowly, slowly being dragged right out of its socket. The pain was excruciating, and biting back the agonised scream he wanted to yell out, Face thought and moved quickly. He tightened his original harness and let it take his weight again, knowing it only needed to hold for a few seconds as he freed his trapped arm and then wrapped the chest harness back on, just slightly lower this time.

Bracing his feet on a solid bit of wall, he leaned down into his hips, feeling the ropes around his thighs as they took his weight, biting into his skin, and relaxed the tension on the top rope, freeing his arm and loosening the whole rope around his upper body.

It all happened so fast from there on, that Face could never really understand what had happened. But just at the point when he was sliding his good arm out of the improvised high harness as well, the initial rope attached to his waist finally snapped. It was poor timing, another couple of seconds and Face would have been able to reattach his second makeshift harness and he wouldn’t have fallen at all, as it was, one minute he was held up by his hips, manoeuvring his new harness into place, the next he was falling, only to have his momentum brought up short as the second rope went taut, slipping up and over his shoulder, and snagging tight around his neck.

The shock was horrific, and for a second panic took over as Face’s hands went to the rope biting into his neck and his legs kicked out frantically, looking for somewhere to take his weight, but there was nothing, he couldn’t even feel the quarry walls anymore. Then he realised that his desperate thrashing was only tightening the rope even further and he forced himself to be still, fingers desperately clawing at the tight rope, trying to prise it from his skin, but it wasn’t going anywhere.

It was fortunate it had tightened so high, right up under his chin, forcing his head up to stare at the sky, a deeper blue now evening was approaching, because instead of snapping his neck or his windpipe in one go, it was only slowly, slowly choking him, crushing the delicate tube a little more, second by second, and Face could almost hear the damn clock ticking in his head.

He realised that he was never going to be able to get his fingers under the tight tourniquet of the rope and so made a desperate grab for the bit above him instead. He found it on his third attempt and grabbed on tightly with both hands, ignoring the pain that flared through his wrenched shoulder. The muscles in his arms bulged with the strain, but he eventually managed to pull himself up a couple of inches, taking the pressure off the lower end of the rope, but almost sobbing in despair as it didn’t alter the tension around his windpipe at all.

Holding on tight with his good hand, he let go with his left, and, gritting his teeth with the pain, tried again with his desperate fingers, trying to open the knot, loosen the rope, but by now he was sweating the cold, sharp sweat of fear, and his blood was pounding loudly in his ears and there was a dark haze just around the edges of his vision.

The rope wasn’t moving, far too tight for his desperate, scrabbling fingers to shift, so he gave up, still holding his weight in his now trembling right arm, Face groped about for his gun with the other, thinking he would shoot through the rope and then pull himself up, arm over arm, until he got back to that tree where he could loop his arm over and use both hands to free his neck. But his hands were shaking now, his fingers slick with sweat and one minute the comforting butt of the gun was in his hands, the next it wasn’t, and he couldn’t even hear the sounds of it crashing against the boulders at the base of the cliff for the terrified pounding in his head.

That’s when the panic came back with vengeance. Face realised that he had nothing left up his sleeve; he had one busted arm which must have come right out of its socket now as he couldn’t even move it, one arm that was spasming in reaction to the stress it was under holding his weight like it was. The rope around his neck was so tight he couldn’t swallow and his vision was darkening more with every second; he was dying and he knew it.

He didn’t want to die, he was only thirty nine for god’s sake, he had so much he’d wanted to do with his life, like finally clear their names completely, be offered reinstatement only to turn it down, to have a life where he wouldn’t have to run and hide, run from the military or hide what he felt about Hannibal. Hannibal... his boss, his lover, his best friend and his soul mate. What would it do to John to find Face hanging here like this? Dead. Features purple and bloated, his bowels and bladder emptied all over himself, killed because he’d been reckless, stupid, just like Hannibal had always said he would...

Face felt his heart kick into overdrive even as his hand slipped and the rope tightened even more. He fought as much as he could, one good arm flailing for a grip on the rope again, feet kicking for purchase in the rocks he could now feel scraping against his back and shoulders, but it did no good.

He’d always thought that you were supposed to see flashes of your past life go through your head when you died, things you’d done, seen, experienced. But Face didn’t, he saw the things he should have done, the things that he would have no chance for now. A house by the beach that he and Hannibal could call theirs, a Christmas morning, just the two of them in bed, exchanging gifts, a whole lifetime of kisses and touches and love that was lost to them forever.

His heart broke, and then it gave out, and with a last whisper of breath - Face died.

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Death was warm, he decided later on. And comfortable, and he hoped that meant he’d gone upstairs and not down below where he’d always secretly felt he’d really deserved to be, but then he felt the fire in his throat and wondered if they were still deciding where to put him.

His eyes felt heavy, but he forced them open, seeing flames in a fireplace that terrified him, shutting them again and wondering where Father David was, whether all the praying he’d done for Face throughout his life had been a colossal waste of time and then he heard a voice, one he never thought he’d hear again.

“Hey, it’s okay sweetheart, don’t panic, you’re safe.” And Face did panic because if Hannibal was here then he was dead too and that couldn’t happen, that couldn’t ever happen, because Face swore he’d never let it, and then he remembered the quarry and the shouting and how Face was going over to help before he got himself all tangled up and because of that Hannibal had been killed, and it was the only thing he was supposed to have done, just protected him and he couldn’t even do that and then the tears were flowing from his eyes but Hannibal was wiping them away, his own voice full of tears and pain and Face wondered how he could still cry when he was dead.

“Face, baby, please,” Hannibal’s voice was broken, and Face couldn’t stand it, hated what he’d done to his man, “please don't cry, I can’t cope with that, please, open your eyes and look at me, please, baby, please...”

And of course Face did because how could he ever not do something Hannibal asked of him? And there was the boss, looking filthy and scared and old and alive and Face just stared at him, “John?” he whispered, feeling the knives in his throat at his words.

“Oh, Temp,” Hannibal whispered, almost falling on top of Face is his relief, holding a hand tightly to his face, his own tears soaking into the crisp white dressing. “Oh, thank god,” he whispered leaning in to brush his lips over Face’s, “thank god you are okay.”

Face watched him, distressed beyond words at John’s tears and his whole broken demeanour, “I’m okay?” he croaked, “I’m not dead?”

Hannibal lifted up and looked down at him, the tiniest hint of a smile taking years off him, adding strength and turning him back into the man that Face recognised. “No, sweetheart, you’re not,” but then it was all gone, replaced by pain and fear once more. “But you were, Jesus Face,” he shook his head, terror lurking in his eyes, “BA climbed up that wall himself and lowered you down and when we got you to the bottom you weren’t breathing, your heart had stopped, your eyes were just staring...”

And Hannibal choked to a stop, grabbing Face fiercely, sending waves of pain through his damaged shoulder, but Face didn’t care because pain meant he was alive he hadn’t left John alone, all those futures he’d seen? He could still have those, still give his man the future he deserved. Face clung onto him with both his arms, even the one that hurt like hell to move because Hannibal was crying now, hard and fast into Face’s neck and Face could feel the salt in the tears burning his torn skin, “I’m sorry,” he whispered, knowing he’d done this to Hannibal, feeling the heat from his own tears as they slid down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry...”

“Don’t leave me,” Hannibal whispered, hard against his neck before sitting up and scrubbing at his face, making an effort to get himself together, “Templeton please,” he said fiercely looking straight into Face’s eyes, “please don’t ever leave me.”

Face wanted to say he wouldn’t, of course he did, but he hadn’t wanted to go in that quarry either, and he’d fought as hard as he could, tried everything he could think of, but if BA hadn’t got to him, if the big guy had been maybe thirty seconds slower, maybe he would never have come back. He just stared instead and Hannibal smiled that sad smile again, knowing exactly what was in Face’s head.

He reached down and stroked back the dirty curls that were flopping over his forehead. “Look after yourself then,” he whispered, voice more like the boss now, “stop taking risks, being so damn reckless with yourself,” they just stared at each other. “You don’t seem to realise that you hold my entire life in your heart.”

Face closed his eyes but felt the warm tears leak out anyway. He did now, and he hated himself for what he’d put the boss through. But then the bed dipped and there was a warm and heavy weight behind him, and a hand loosely over his abs, and a mouth at his neck, gently ghosting warm air over the thick angry rope burn. “Go to sleep, my love,” Hannibal whispered. “Once Murdock and BA wake up, you won’t get any peace, so enjoy it for now,” Face felt sleep calling him but he immediately tensed, suddenly utterly terrified that he wouldn’t wake up if he allowed himself to drift off. “It’s okay,” Hannibal soothed, feeling the tension in his body, “I’ve got you baby, you need to sleep, to heal, and I will be right here all the time, I’ll make sure you come back again, alright? I’ll always make sure you come back again.”

So Face let himself, go and as he did he could feel hard hands on his chest, pushing, pushing, forcing his heart back into life, and lips on his, not tenderly, but hard and desperate, tasting of salty tears as breath was forced down his crushed throat and Face knew that was true. Hannibal and the team had brought him back once; he just had to trust that they would do it again, whenever he needed them to, for whatever reason, and from whatever place.

He slept.

End
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However... Designation who prompted the original story, also expressed interest in seeing things from the other side of the quarry, so for your reading pleasure, please find posted below... High Stakes from the Team's POV.

Hannibal wiped his hands of dust and grime as BA tied up the very last bad guy and sat him up against the wall with his buddies, under the very careful supervision of one of the locals press ganged into working up here. “Anything from Face yet?” he asked Murdock who’d already moved into the back of the jeep, ready to make their escape. He was mildly irritated that the kid wasn’t here already, going back to pick him up would cost them precious seconds and they needed to call the police sooner rather than later.

“Nothin’ yet, colonel, sir!” Murdock piped up, standing in his seat and pulling binoculars from the side pocket, “I’ll have a little check on him.”

Hannibal nodded, and went through his mental check list one more time, making sure that all the loose ends were tidied up before they took their leave.

“I got him,” Murdock’s lazy drawl pulled him from his thoughts and his irritation kicked up a notch at the amusement in Murdock’s voice. “He’s on his way down to us now,” Murdock reported. “Rappellin’ by the looks of it!”

“He’s what?” Hannibal snapped, furious to think that Face would let his prevarication with extreme sports get in the way of their clean escape. “Give me those!” he swiped the binoculars off Murdock who sat back down in his seat, grin firmly in place. Hannibal stood at the side of the jeep and quickly found what Murdock had been looking at, he was about to swear, to start his rant and wonder what the hell Face thought he was doing, but then he stopped, and frowned, and readjusted the focus.

“What?” Murdock asked, sitting up at once when he recognised that look on his colonel’s face.

“I don’t know,” Hannibal replied thoughtfully. “Something’s not right, he’s-” he cut off sharply and took a step in; Murdock could feel the invisible thread that he always said ran between Hannibal and Face, tighten with a jerk. “BA!” Hannibal yelled, leaping into the front passenger seat, “We need to go now! Face is in trouble!”

BA moved like lightening, vaulting over a pile of pit props stacked outside, he was in the driver’s seat in seconds, turning the engine over and throwing the heavy jeep into gear as Murdock hauled himself up into a standing position hanging onto the roll bar as BA screeched off.

“Eleven o’clock, big guy,” Hannibal told BA sharply, “head for the quarry wall.” He lifted the binoculars again, but the jeep was kicking about far too wildly and creating much too much dust for him to be able to see anything.

“What is it?” Murdock yelled as they bounced onwards, his own eyes unable to pick up anything at all out of the ordinary.

Hannibal took a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm as his brain replayed what it had seen over and over again. By the time he had taken the binoculars from Murdock, Face had been stationary against the quarry wall, about half way down. He was obviously having a few technical difficulties with his gear, and since Hannibal knew they had all the climbing equipment in their jeep, he guessed that Face had rigged himself an improvised harness; he did it all the time, was always so supremely confident in his ability in situations like this that he never listened to Hannibal’s advice and words of warning. But then, Hannibal conceded, the amount of times that Face’s guts, ingenuity and willingness to take a risk had saved their skins definitely outweighed any trouble he’d ever got himself into. But as he’d watched, separated by almost a mile of dusty quarry floor, the unthinkable happened. Suddenly, Face dropped like a stone, only to be brought up short with a jerk and before Hannibal even had the chance to silently congratulate the kid on having a safety line in place, he saw the desperately thrashing legs, and the way that both of Face’s hands were now on his neck and the horrific truth dawned on him as he yelled out for BA to come – the rope was around his neck, he was hanging about forty metres up a rock face with a rope slowly tightening around his neck, if he wasn’t already dead, he had only minutes left to live.

“Hannibal?” Murdock yelled, his own eyes wide in worry and Hannibal pulled himself together.

“He’s fallen,” he replied calmly, far too calmly for a man whose very life was, literally, hanging in front of him. “He had a safety line on, but that’s round his neck now, it’s choking him.” Murdock looked over at the rapidly approaching cliff face but still couldn’t make anything out. “BA,” Hannibal continued, “the second we stop, get a harness on, Murdock and I will rig a rope.”

“There aint no time for a harness, man!” BA yelled, the fear in his voice clear for all to hear.

“No choice,” Hannibal snapped. “You’ve seen the state of these walls; you’ll never get up without one.” After Face, BA was the next best climber, but Hannibal knew that going up without a rope was pointless and dangerous and ultimately no use to Face.

And then they were there. BA brought the jeep to a sharp halt and leapt out stepping straight into the harness that Murdock already had open for him and as the two of them pulled and tugged at straps and webbing, Hannibal grabbed a coil of rope from the back of the jeep and scrambled up the loose rocks at the base of the quarry wall, his neck craning backwards as his terrified eyes took in Face above him. What he saw was equal parts reassuring and terrifying. Face was obviously still with them, Hannibal could see the muscles and tendons of his arm bulging as they fought to keep the weight off his neck, but then he was so high above them, and his other arm was hanging so limply, Hannibal knew they were in deep trouble.

“Face!” he yelled as he unfurled his rope, “Hang on in there, kid, we’re coming for you!” Face didn’t reply, Hannibal wasn’t even sure his words had been heard, but then his eyes caught the sapling up above with the rope secured to it, and knowing there was no other way, swung his own rope to try and loop over it. His first attempt missed and at that exact moment, Face’s good arm finally gave up the fight and he fell another couple of inches, the rope around his neck taking all the weight now. Hannibal watched in horror as Face’s whole body thrashed in pure, unadulterated panic, his feet kicking loose stones down over Hannibal, his arm trying to grab at the rope once more and forcing a calmness he didn’t feel into his own taut limbs, Hannibal threw again, almost crying with relief as the rope caught snug between the slender trunk and the quarry wall.

He swung again, wrapping the rope tightly as he heard BA and Murdock coming up behind him. With one eye on Face’s rapidly weakening struggles, Hannibal watched as Murdock quickly fastened one end of the rope to the harness and then, with Hannibal and Murdock on the other end, BA took off, scrambling up the side of the rock face just as Face’s body stilled, twitched and then hung limply in the evening sun.

“Bosco!” Hannibal screamed, not even recognising his own voice for the terror in it and BA went even faster, kicking stones down in his rush, Hannibal and Murdock holding his weight and praying.

BA had never moved so fast in his entire life, he didn’t feel the stones biting into his fingers, he didn’t feel the pain in his knee as he slipped and crashed into the rock face, all he saw was Face up above him, no longer struggling, just hanging, swaying slightly at the end of that damn rope and he went even faster. Within two minutes he was close enough to touch, even though it had felt a hell of a lot longer. He struggled up for another ten seconds and yelled Face’s name, just as the swinging rope brought them round eye to eye. What he saw then he knew would haunt him until the day he died; Face was dead, his eyes open and staring, his skin purple and mottled, his lips blue, nothing there at all, no life, no spark, nothing. He’d gone.

“BA!” the shout from down below shocked him back into action, even though he had no idea which of his two team mates had yelled it. He wasted no time at all on the rope around Face’s neck, knew that with all his weight on it there was no way that was coming off. All he needed to do was to get Face down to Hannibal and Murdock fast and they would do whatever they could then. He pulled out his knife and quickly cut the rope from his own harness, knowing that left him in terrible danger, but that it was also the quickest way down for his friend. Then he fastened it quickly around Face’s chest, making sure he didn’t look into those empty eyes as he did so, and finally reaching up to severe the rope still attached to his neck, shouting to Murdock and Hannibal below that he was theirs even as they had already started to lower him.

Murdock let the rope out slowly but steadily, his heart pounding hard in his chest as Hannibal went back to the base of the cliff to gather Face into his arms as soon as he could reach him, and then it was all hands on deck. Hannibal ran with his precious charge to the relatively flat ground in the shade of the jeep and laid him on his back in the dust. Murdock was right behind him, skidding to a halt at his friend’s hip even as Hannibal’s shaking fingers unwrapped the rope from around his neck. He didn’t waste any time checking for signs of life, he’d seen those empty eyes for himself and he knew that Face had gone, what he didn't know was how far, and whether he was near enough still to come back, and there was only one way to find out.

“Face, can you hear me!” Hannibal’s voice was alien in Murdock’s ears, too broken, too old and he tried to blank it out as the heels of his hands found Face’s sternum and he started pushing, counting urgently under his breath. “Face, baby, please...” Hannibal begged and to his horror he realised that the boss was crying, crying and he had to force his own tears back in response.

He finished his chest compressions and moved straight up to his buddy’s still face, refusing to look into those blank eyes one more time and tipped his chin, feeling the ever present stubble under his fingers before opening his mouth wide and checking for obstructions. “Colonel!” he snapped, risking a glance up at Hannibal to find him watching with silent tears streaming down his cheeks. Murdock shook his head and, sealing Face’s nose with his long fingers, he fastened their mouths together and blew, keeping an eye on Face’s chest to make sure it was rising and falling with each breath. “Colonel!!” he shouted this time and Hannibal snapped back to life under his gaze. “Get a grip, colonel, he said a little more gently as his hands found Face’s chest once more, “He needs you here, bossman, he aint got too far we can’t bring him back yet, not if we work together.”

Instantly Hannibal straightened, the colonel reasserting himself following Murdock’s very deliberate use of rank, and the man devastated by the loss of his love drifted off into the background. “Okay,” he said, moving into place. “Count?”

“Twenty seven, twenty eight, twenty, nine, thirty,” Murdock counted and then paused as Hannibal immediately went down for two breaths. The second he was up, Murdock started again, “One, two...”

“Eight minutes man,” BA’s low rumble told them he’d made it safely down from the rock face and a second later he dropped to his knees opposite Murdock, ready to take over if he were needed, carefully laying Face’s gun down by his shoulder.

Hannibal glanced quickly at Face’s Glock, remembering the day he’d given it to Face after the kid had lost his Sigma getting blown off the end of a pier. He quickly pushed the memory aside, refusing to acknowledge the screaming in his head that was telling him that Face was dead, he was dead and Hannibal would never hear him laugh again, never feel the heat from his body wrapped around him in bed again, never get to watch him curled on the sofa, absorbed in some old black and white movie, never hear his own name, whispered like a prayer as the kid came underneath him... He shook all of those thoughts away, Murdock was right, Face wasn’t gone yet, they’d got him down quickly enough, and now they just had to drag him back.

At thirty Hannibal went in again, feeling those oh-so-familiar lips under his but knowing they had never touched in circumstances like these before and forced the well known facts that insisted on crowding his mind into silence. Facts learned in their regular first aid refreshers, now held using materials downloaded from the web, facts like, ‘CPR performed without chance of a defibrillator is rarely effective’ and ‘CPR rarely restarts a stopped heart’.

Face was strong, he reminded himself, his heart may not have stopped completely, it may just have slowed right down. What they were doing was keeping his oxygen levels up, giving him the chance to recover, use some of that strength to come back to them. And if he could then he damn well would, kid was the most stubborn man he’d ever met... But when BA’s deep voice whispered, “Fifteen minutes,” he couldn’t stop the fear that washed over him along with more silent tears.

He lifted up from his respiration and as Murdock instantly started counting again, he looked straight at his corporal. “Call 911.”

BA paused, knowing Face’s wishes as strongly as the rest of them, how he swore he couldn’t cope with prison again, couldn’t be on his own without them. How the person he’d had to pretend to be in jail had worn him too thin, made him do things he didn’t want to do again, how he’d rather die than go back. BA knew that sending him to hospital was sending him to prison.

Hannibal held his stare. “Make the call. We let them get his heart going again and then we take him back.” BA paused a second longer and then nodded, rising to his feet to make the call.

He never got that chance though, as soon as his back was turned he heard a sound, a hoarse rasping noise, not dissimilar to a cough and spun on the spot to see Murdock sat back on his heels, face to the sky, whispering fervently to the indigo sky while Hannibal was leant over Face who was now on his side, the bossman’s shaking fingers pressed into the swollen flesh under the kid’s chin, his own words drifting through the still evening into BA’s ears. “That’s it, that’s it, baby, you breathe for us. I know it hurts, but you gotta breathe, we can’t lose you Face. I can’t lose you. I need you Face; I can’t do this without you. Good boy, breathe for me...” and feeling like he was intruding, BA went to start up the jeep.

Definately end now!

Current Mood: sick
Current Music: The Raveonettes - The Christmas Song

Hannibal and Face, the van and sex in 834 words! With clothes on.

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I’ve no idea what happened. One minute I was on the top of the wall, edging carefully around, about to get into position to cover the boss when he stepped forward to make the deal ,the next I’m laid in the dirt, coughing brick dust out of my lungs and trying to kick the rubble off my legs.

Unfortunately, I don’t have to worry about that for long as there is a helpful bad guy hauling me out of the remains of the wall, dragging me out into the centre of the yard and forcing me to my knees, hands on my head and a gun pressed fucking hard into the back of my neck.

“Hey, gringo!” a voice yells too close to my pounding head for comfort and I tense wondering if Hannibal will make his presence known, “I know you hiding here somewhere! Now show me your ass or the pretty man gets a hole in his head!”

I’m fairly sure he doesn’t really want to see the boss’ ass, even though it is a very, very fine example of ass, the best, in my humble opinion and I feel a wave of despair crashing over me, knowing that I’ve put him in a hell of a position here. What can he do? Give himself up, risk his life right alongside mine, and know that those kids being forced to work in Carlos’ silver mines won’t get the freedom they deserve? Or stand by and watch this fucker blow my brains out? And he will, I can tell he is dying to.

“I is counting to ten!” he yells and starts his count and my mouth works without thought.

“Yeah, that’s ‘I am counting’ fuck-wit. Jeez don’t you guys know your simple present tense?”

There is the crack of something hard to the side of my head and then I hear the hammer pull back and I can’t help but close my eyes and wish I had underwear on. But then there is Hannibal’s voice and it damn near breaks my heart. “Don't! Don’t hurt him! Okay, okay, here I am, look, don’t hurt him!” And I look up against the setting sun and there is Hannibal, putting down his gun and lowering himself full length to the ground, spread eagled in the dirt, and I wonder why he is doing that when no one asked but I follow suit, just as the whole damn place seems to go up in a huge blast.

- - - -

Only two of them are left alive after Murdock’s more than enthusiastic petrol bomb took out the dynamite store. My ears are still ringing as Hannibal hauls me up off the floor and half drags, half carries me to the van, shoving me in so hard my shins hit the kickboard and I stumble, falling face down onto BA’s immaculate carpet.

With a thud I am enveloped in darkness as the doors are closed and then Hannibal’s weight is on me, his hands on my belt buckle, his erection pressing hard into my ass and his mouth at my ear. “Jesus Christ Temp,” he hisses as his hips snap hard and repeatedly against me, “thought he was gonna do it, there and then when you couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut!”

I’m struggling to breathe with his weight on me otherwise I would object to those words... talk about pots and kettles!

“Thought I was gonna lose you,” the boss’ fingers are shaking and he can’t seem to work the simple belt buckle, I lift my hips to offer some assistance but then I’m dragged up, hauled around and dropped onto my back, Hannibal on top of me immediately, pinning me down, his fingers having better luck with my zipper and then all there is is heat. Heat of his hands on my head holding me still, heat of his tongue and his lips as he finds my mouth and plunders it, hard. Heat from his rock hard cock as it juts out from his open fly and right into the gap made by my gaping zipper. Heat from the drooling precum as the head of his cock thrusts hard against my pubic hair, my tight balls, making me gasp in exquisite pain, and then my own cock, manfully rising to the occasion despite (because of?) the recent near death experience.

And then Hannibal is coming, hard and fast and so, so hot right into the gap in my combats, his heat spurting against my cock base, running over my balls and I’m coming too, jamming my hips up into him, forgetting to breathe as, for the second time in twenty minutes, my world crumbles around me.

Then we are still, the boss’ hand stroking my face and he lifts up. “Can’t ever lose you,” he says, then heaves himself up and away, heading off to make sure the job is finished, and I just lie there, covered in the proof of his love.

Current Mood: chipper
Current Music: DJ Fresh - Louder

Two days later...

Face sat on the decking at the back of the house, mug of coffee in his hand, mobile phone and a Post-It note on his knee and looked out at the tiny speck that was Hannibal and Murdock, dead centre in the middle of the lake in the little boat that came with the property. He smiled as he saw one of the figures in the boat stand up, enthusiastically reeling in his line while the other stayed seated, frantically grabbing hold of the sides of the tiny vessel to try and stop the whole thing from tipping over; it wasn’t hard to guess who was who.

He’d raised his eyes at the boss when Murdock had come hurtling into the sauna to tell Face that the two of them were going fishing and Hannibal had just shrugged back, Murdock’s enthusiasm for the outing enough proof to recognise Hannibal’s motives in agreeing to go. Even so, Hannibal had never had the best of sea legs, and even though he had stopped short of actually throwing up, as far as Face was aware anyway, he always tended to scramble back onto dry land just as soon as he possibly could, often looking decidedly green around the ears.

The sound of the huge glass doors to the den sliding open behind him took his attention from the intrepid fishermen and Face turned to flash a quick smile at BA who, dressed in his running gear, ear buds dangling over his shoulder came and stood at the glass fencing, next to the chair that Face was resting his still swollen ankle on and following the lieutenant’s gaze to the tiny boat.

“None o’ them fools in the drink yet then?” he asked, the sheer amazement at Hannibal’s lunacy clear in his tone.

Face laughed. “Nope. But my money’s on the boss, Murdock’s feet seem to be stuck to the bottom of that tub.”

They both watched for a few seconds more as the two figures swapped places in the perilously rocking boat, one crawling to the bow on hands and knees, the other, almost skipping to the stern, rod held aloft the whole time. Face laughed, more at BA’s groan of sympathy for Hannibal than anything else and looked up to see the big man looking carefully at him.

Ignoring the swooping feeling in his stomach, Face smiled again, knowing what was about to come. “You going running?” he asked as lightly as he could.

BA paused just a fraction before answering, “Nah... I mean, I was gonna, but I reckon I’ll wait now. Make sure them crazy fools get back alright.”

Face swallowed a sigh. “BA,” he made sure the open smile was still on his face, “You go, I’ll be fine, man. You know I will.”

Looking awkward at being caught out, BA turned his eyes back to the figures in the boat and Face waited, letting the thoughts settle in his friend’s mind at their own pace. Out of the three of them, BA had been the one who had insisted of treating Face like he was made of glass the most since that whole horrific episode in the alley way with Pike. Murdock had only mentioned it the once, holding Face’s eyes and saying, “I don’t think you really wanted to check out on us there bud,” and continuing before Face could get a single word in, “but if you ever do feel like that, you make sure you come and talk to me, right? Or Hannibal. Or BA. You got that?” Face had felt his throat close up and so had just nodded his reply and Murdock had smiled one of his really genuine smiles and that had been that.

For Hannibal it had been harder. Face could sense him wanting to fuss, wanting to say things, do things and only just managing to hold back. The worst time had been when they were making dinner last night and Murdock had handed Face the huge vegetable knife and a half cabbage, asking him to slice it for coleslaw and Hannibal had gone as white as the ceramic sink, before eventually excusing himself to stand on the deck in the dark, puffing furiously on a cigar. Face had prepared the cabbage for Murdock and then followed the boss out, not saying a word, just holding him, reassuring him with his presence alone. It had taken almost ten minutes before the tension had leaked out of Hannibal’s shoulders and then he had just sighed and kissed Face softly before whispering, “I know you won’t, kid,” to Face’s silent promise and they’d gone back inside to a wink from Murdock and homemade pizza and slaw.

But BA had always been there, right behind him, just watching him, Face felt; helping him up and down the stairs when Face could manage on his own, offering to get him pain meds, drinks, snacks, blankets, his iPad... generally just always being there and it was starting to grate on Face’s nerves. He felt that BA was on suicide watch with him, and was tempted to ask for his hand gun to clean just to see what the big guy would do. However, when he’d vented to Murdock over laundry duties in the cellar, Murdock had stopped sorting their smalls and looked up, his face terribly, terribly sad. “Faceman,” he said quietly, his eyes huge in the dim light, “Bosco aint worried about that, he knows you didn’t really mean it,” Face had frowned, confused. “Don’tcha see? Big guy’s feelin’ guilty that Pike Two messed you up, messed you around with Adele an’ all that when it was him that had killed Pike One.”

For a second Face had just stared, blinking stupidly. He couldn’t believe that, what on earth was BA thinking? “He thinks that?” he’d asked, incredulous. “But,” he carried on at Murdock’s nod, “Pike One would have killed me for sure if BA hadn’t turned up at the docks in LA...”

Murdock shrugged and shook out a pair of BA’s white trunks. “You tellin’ me you wouldn’t be feelin’ guilty if roles were reversed?”

Face sighed and stared, unseeing, at the socks in his hands, of course he would, but still...

As soon as he’d gone back upstairs he’d found BA trying to get a better picture from the satellite dish mounted at the side of the house and he’d walked right up to him and hugged him, forcing back a smile as he felt BA stiffen in shock at his touch. The big guy had, almost reluctantly and pretty fiercely, hugged him back for the briefest of moments before Face pulled away and looked into his suspicious brown eyes. “Bosco,” he said, quietly and steadily, “I know I have said this before, but thank you for saving my life at the docks in LA. What’s happened here isn’t your fault, you’ve got to know that. If it wasn’t for you, Pike would have shot me dead that morning.”

BA just looked at him and Face knew Murdock had been dead right in his analysis of the situation.

“You never told him did you?” BA said eventually, a frown on his face. “In that warehouse with Pike when he was hurtin’ you, you never told him it was me.”

Face smiled and shook his head.

“Why not?”

Silence fell once more and it was now Face that was starting to look uncomfortable under BA’s stare. “You know why,” he whispered, his throat suddenly dry. “You would have done the same for me.”

BA nodded and then he was the one who took hold of Face’s shoulders and pulled him in for a very rare glimpse of Baracus emotion. “Thank you,” he whispered into Face’s ear. “You’re a good guy Faceman, don’t you ever forget that.”

And then the whole weird moment was over and BA went back to his satellite dish and Face wandered onto the deck to wait for his eyes to stop stinging and since then BA hadn’t been quite so mother-hennish with him, although Face could tell he still really wanted to be.

“You sure?” BA asked, back on the deck, his eyes fixed on the good ship Murdock bobbing frantically in the middle of the lake.

“Sure,” Face had reassured him.

“You want anythin’ before I go?”

“Nope.”

BA looked back. “Okay then, I’ll go. Be about an’ hour right?”

Face had nodded and smiled and BA had flicked on his iPod before turning and starting off slowly on the path that led around the side of the property.

_____________________________

“Never again, kid, never again...”

Face was started out of his doze twenty minutes later by Hannibal flopping down in the chair next to his on the deck, a strong smell of fish about him and skin the colour of chalk. Face laughed. “That bad huh?” Hannibal just nodded forlornly and Face glanced about. “Where’s Captain Ahab now then?”

Cracking an eye open Hannibal looked at him. “Cleaning his fish round the side,” the property came with its own outdoor fish preparation area. “He’s gonna cook them for dinner.”

“Them?” Face’s eyes widened. “How many’d you catch?”

“Me?” Hannibal asked incredulously, “None. Him? Five...”

“Five?” Face whistled through his teeth, impressed as Hannibal leaned over and took a swig of Face’s coffee, grimacing as he realised it was cold.

“Yeah, I know...” Hannibal answered grimly before turning and fixing Face with a look. “Eddie called,” he said quietly, “while we were out.”

That caught Face off guard and he felt his eyes opening wide in surprise. He’d never met Eddie, but Hannibal had told him he was a friend of Adele’s and had been the one who had originally managed to track them down. Face had scowled at that, but Hannibal had reassured him, told him he thought that Eddie was essentially an okay guy, just infatuated with Adele and Face could readily believe that. Anyway, it had been odd but since the day that Adele had been rushed to hospital, Hannibal had been unable to find him, speak to him about what had been going on. He never answered his phone, wasn’t in the ICU when Hannibal got there; they’d never spoken about it, but Face had just presumed he’d done a runner.

“Yeah?” he asked, trying and failing to sound like he didn’t care.

“Yeah,” Hannibal replied. “Seems he’s diabetic, had a hypo or something, been in hospital himself this last week.”

Face considered that. “You believe him?” he asked cautiously.

“Absolutely,” Hannibal answered at once. “I told you Face, he’s not a monster like Pike.”

There was no problem with Face accepting that, he knew Hannibal was generally a good judge of character. “So?” he asked quietly, “What else did he say?”

Hannibal twisted in his seat, reaching out a hand to rest on Face’s thigh as he spoke. “She’s woken up,” he said quietly and then waited as Face shut his eyes, pressed his fingers against his closed lids and breathed for a minute, wrestling with the feelings storming around inside him.

After a minute, when Face looked back at him, he continued. “She’s not spoken and she only wakes for very short moments of time, but the docs are cautiously optimistic that she will come out of this now.”

Face nodded. That was good. Good for Adele, good for Eddie.

“You want to go and see her?” Hannibal offered cautiously and Face shook his head right away. No. No he did not want to go and see her. Hannibal squeezed his leg and moved on. “I asked Eddie about your father as well while he was on the phone, see if he knew anything.” Face felt his stomach tighten again at those words. He’d told Hannibal what Adele had eventually admitted about his father, the bits he could remember at least, which really wasn’t very much. “But he doesn’t,” Hannibal told him gently. “Eddie’s known her for over thirty years, but she’d never even mentioned you to him until earlier this year.” Face looked down at his jeans and sighed, no she wouldn’t have done would she?

They sat in silence for a few minutes more, Hannibal’s hand a steadying presence in Face’s life like always and then Hannibal spoke again. “If you ever decide you want to go and look for him-”

“No!” Face cut him off sharply and then took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, forcing out a strained smile. “No, thanks boss,” he amended quietly. “I know you will all help me, but no. Certainly not now, and maybe not ever, I don’t know if I could ever handle that.”

Hannibal nodded, he’d expected as much and of course it wasn’t the finding-his-father that Face didn’t know if he could handle, it was the possible rejection all over again. “Okay, well, you know the offer’s there,” he said instead and squeezed Face’s thigh once more.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, strains of Murdock’s rendition of La Boheme as he cleaned the fish drifting around the outside of the house. Then a sudden gust of wind blew up and flicked at the Post-It note on Face’s knee causing both Face and Hannibal to grab at it, stopping it from taking off into the lake.

“What’s that?” Hannibal asked as Face put it on the table under his coffee mug to stop it blowing away again.

Taking a deep breath, he turned, and looked Hannibal right in the eye. “It’s directions to a therapist in Reno,” he was proud of himself for being able to say the word without stammering over it. “I have an appointment with him, two thirty tomorrow.”

For a second, Hannibal was just stunned into silence, his blue eyes shining as he stared at Face, the shock etched into every plane of his face.

“I looked up that woman in Dallas,” Face told him, having to look away, finding the expression on the boss’ face too raw to watch, “But it’s too far. I like it here. If I go to Reno then I can drive there and back in a day, easy.”

That was true, but it was only half of the reason Face had decided against her. He had looked her up like he told Hannibal, but then he slammed the laptop shut as soon as he read that she specialised in ‘suicidal patients’. That wasn’t him, and knowing he needed to prove that to everyone, including himself, provided at least some of the driving force in finding this guy in Reno.

Hannibal was still staring at him, but as Face lapsed into silence he eventually spoke, “Face, baby,” his voice was a dry whisper. “I’m real proud of you here, kiddo, you know that right? So, so proud of you for doing this.”

Face nodded, not surprised that the boss was shocked at his decision, every time he’d tried to discuss it so far had ended up with Face hissing something along the lines of ‘I’m not crazy!’ and that had been that.

The silence stretched out again.

“So, two thirty, huh? Tomorrow?” Face nodded. “You want me to drive you?” Hannibal offered cautiously and Face turned to him, his eyes wide and naked.

“Fuck, boss,” he whispered shakily, “I was really hoping you’d come in with me...”

In the work of a moment Hannibal was on his knees at Face’s side, arms around him, lips on his temple, his cheek, his hair. “Of course I will,” he whispered, pure, ecstatic relief surging through him at Face’s words. “Of course I will, there’s nothing I want more than to help you with this.” Face just nodded and held on tight as Hannibal continued to drop kisses onto him. “We’ll beat this,” Hannibal’s voice in his ear whispered, “you and me kid, this whole team. We’ll beat this and we’ll help you make whatever you want out of it. You believe me?”

Face nodded and held on tightly. Yes, he believed him. It was time he stopped letting life just happen to him, and took back all of that control for himself. And for the first time in his life he felt that he could actually be strong enough to do it.

End. Thank God!

Author's Note:
This story has had an awful amount of traffic through it but not much in the line of comments (Thank you Aussie Bones for being every author's dream reader!!!).

I appreciate every single reader that's been through here, but I would love to know what you thought - I'm already planning my next big fic and so it's good to know what works and what doesn't.

Thanks for reading, and sticking with this fic through all it's ups and downs! :)

Current Mood: productive
Current Music: Gene Autry - 'Here Comes Santa Claus'

It was hard to work out what exactly happened next, something hit his wrist, hard, spinning the gun from his grasp even as the bullet exploded from the barrel, he felt a sudden sharp pain in the back of his head but when he opened his eyes, an automatic reaction to the shock, he was still in the alley, still laid flat on his back, but this time looking up at a pale, bloodstained Hannibal Smith, fear and pain clear in the blue eyes that stared down at him. Face let himself sink back into the filth and darkness once more and marvelled at the speed in which he had ended up in hell like this, and of course it had to be hell, because where else would he be when he had to spend the rest of his days looking at the man he loved with bullet holes all through his chest?

There was rustling beside him and then muffled, pained gasps and a voice, the most precious voice in the universe whispering frantically into his ear. “Face! Face, dear god, look at me! Open your eyes and look at me!” Face just screwed them closed even more forcefully; there was no way he was going to get involved in mind games in his own personal version of hell. The rustling and the shuffling continued, followed by a ripping, tearing sound and then there were hands on him, poking in his hair, prodding the part of his head that hurt like fuck at the back. “What have you done, oh, baby, what have you done?” The terror in those words lanced through Face like an icy spear, and without thought, he opened his eyes, compelled to look up at their owner.

Hannibal was pale, the smears of blood on his face standing out in sharp, sharp contrast to the whiteness of his skin. His hands were running all over Face’s head, and he could feel them shaking as they touched, coming away daubed in blood. He glanced down, couldn’t really help it, even though Hannibal’s bloody chest was the last thing he wanted to see, the violence that had killed him, the reason he’d ended up in perpetual hell like Face himself. He frowned in confusion at the loose hoop of duct tape hanging around his boss’ neck and realised that at one point it had been a gag, and then his eyes ran down to that pale caramel sweater and he stared in confusion at the grime he saw, the odd smear of blood, but no bullet holes, no evidence of exsanguination. Without thinking he raised his hand, the same hand that had been holding the gun and frowned at the pain moving it had caused, but then he was touching and finding Hannibal warm and whole and feeling very much alive.

With a hiss of pain, Face was pulled up off the ground and enveloped in a fierce, desperate hug that he could do nothing else but return. He was still confused, still had that searing pain in his head from the one bullet, but if this was hell, then maybe it wouldn't be as bad as he had first feared.

“Oh, god, Face, I thought you had done it, I thought you were-” Hannibal stuttered to a halt and buried his face in the warmth of Face’s neck, shaking hard and whispering, “What were you thinking? What were you thinking?.” And Face just held on to him, grabbing at any bit of clothing or skin he could manage and tried to wrap his head around what the fuck was going on.

But then Hannibal was pulling him up, grabbing him off the floor and almost carrying him towards the still open door of Silas’ Cadillac. “Get in, kid,” he whispered, his voice anxious, “we need to get out of here pretty damn fast.”

He tried to push Face into the back seat but he resisted, grabbing hold of Hannibal’s biceps in his hands and staring at him right in the eyes. “I saw him shoot you,” he whispered, the memories those words conjured up almost more than he could stand. “I thought you were dead...”

Hannibal wilted under his agony, “No baby,” he whispered, still lowering Face into the car. “He didn’t shoot me, he was being a prick, trying to scare me, trying to make me freak or piss my pants or something.” He shook his head sadly, “He was never going to kill either of us that easily.”

Still Face frowned, realising that Hannibal had been gagged, restrained by the tape and that’s why he hadn’t moved or shouted out to Face before he got his hands on Pike’s gun. He put a hand up to the back of his head which was throbbing in time with his pulse and looked at the blood on his fingers. “I shot myself...” he whispered, wondering why the hell he was still breathing.

Closing his eyes against the pain of those words Hannibal leant in and kissed Face, hard and fast on his lips before pulling back. “You didn’t,” he reassured him, “I kicked the gun away just in time, you’ve got some shrapnel damage, that’s all, but it’s not too deep.”

Face stared at him, trying to take it all in, only just starting to realise what he almost did, his eyes flicked over to where he knew Silas was slumped at the side of the alley, only just starting to realise what he had done... “Oh, god, John... Pike...”

Again Hannibal kissed him, lifting his legs at the same time and bundling him into the back seats. “I know,” he whispered, “I’m sorting it. You stay here while I get this done.” Face stared at him and Hannibal could see the shock setting in, knew how Face felt about taking a life, the way it always hit him. “You had no choice,” he reassured him, desperate to get this mess tidied up, desperate to get out before the cops showed up. “He was gonna kill us both, Face. And Murdock and BA, probably your mom and Eddie too. You had no choice.”

He got no answer, Face just pulled his legs up and curled into himself on the leather of the back seats while Hannibal hauled Pike’s body into the trunk, picked up their guns, poured gas from a can in the back all over the ground and then threw a match, watching in grim satisfaction as the alley went up in flames. He forced himself to drive slowly and carefully away from the mini inferno, back out onto the main street and away from the hospital as the first sirens sounded off in the distance.

_____________________

Face was fairly unaware of the drive to meet up with Murdock and BA and the van. He knew that’s where they were going, could hear Hannibal on his cell as he drove, making arrangements, reassuring Murdock that they were both okay, but he was buried so deep in his own personal fog he could never have said whether they had taken ten minutes or ten days to get to where they were going.

They met up at the back of a car park in a rest station and Hannibal was ruthlessly efficient the second he pulled over next to the van. He stalked around to the back door of the Cadillac and hauled Face out, his hands firm but gentle and then carried his unresponsive lover over to the open door of the van. Murdock was waiting in the driver’s seat as Hannibal laid Face in the back, stroking his hair and kissing him quickly on the lips.

“Murdock is gonna drive up to the house with you kid,” he whispered quickly. “Me and BA have to sort some stuff and then we’ll follow you.”

He tried to pull away but Face reached up and grabbed him, his fingers gripping like claws in his desperation. “No,” he gasped and Hannibal felt a spike of sympathy rush through him. “Don’t boss, don’t leave me please, don’t leave me.”

“Hey, kimosabe,” Murdock’s voice, strained and on edge but forcibly cheerful reached back from the driver’s seat. “Don’t you worry about nothin’, here, you an’ me are gonna have a nice drive up into the hills an’ Hannibal and the big guy will be there before we know it, right bossman?”

“Right,” Hannibal agreed, peeling Face’s fingers off his arm and sliding out of the door of the van.

“John, please...” Face begged and Hannibal hardened his resolve.

“I have to go,” he told him firmly, “I have to sort this,” and Face withdrew, understanding in his eyes and curled back in on himself again, wrapping his arms around his torso as he watched Hannibal get to his feet outside. Looking at the devastation in his boy’s expression, the colonel sighed. He and BA needed to do this right now, they needed to tidy up all these loose ends, and after that – shit – he knew he’d have some major repairs to do with Face as well.

______________________

Murdock kept up a steady and chipper monologue all the way up to the house in the mountains they were renting for the next few weeks. It was a tough job, as the only words Face spoke in the entire two hour drive were to ask Murdock to pull over when his concussion made him bring up his dinner all over the side of the road.

They set off again almost at once, Murdock keen to get somewhere safe and Face added frequently to the contents of the bucket Murdock had given him on the long drive through the rapidly darkening night.

When they arrived, Murdock left Face curled around the bucket in the back of the van while he checked the place out, switched on the electricity and quickly allocated the rooms. Then he came back, and, cheerful voice firmly in place, helped Face from the back of the van and straight into the master bathroom where he had already started the huge bath running.

“I’m fine, Murdock,” Face said tiredly when he saw what was going on. “I don’t need a bath, I just need to go to bed.”

“Course you need a bath!” Murdock told him brightly, “’Cause I’m the one who washes all the sheets an’ I aint washing sheets that you’ve mucked all over on purpose, Face. Look at the state of you!”

Face didn’t need to look, he could feel the dirt and the grime, the sweat and the blood all over him, and Murdock’s comments about the sheets were a little off as well, they all took turns with the chores, the only thing that Murdock did more than the others was cook. But deep in his head, Face knew that Murdock was right, and that his friend only wanted the best for him, so he stripped down slowly and let Murdock help him into the water, sighing as the heat immediately soothed every ache and pain other than the ones inside him.

He lay back in the water as Murdock gently washed him down, poked about in the back of his head, removing tiny fragments of shrapnel with some tweezers and finally numbed and cleaned the gash on his head before sealing it with wound glue. Then he let himself be towelled dry and led to the bedroom where the duvet was turned down and his sleep shorts were already out and waiting for him.

Clean and dry, but with his body pulsing in pain, his stomach rolling with nausea and nightmares already creeping into his fuddled brain, he dragged the shorts on and crawled under the duvet, wondering if he could hold it all together just until Hannibal got back. But he didn't have to worry, just as the shaking was starting to get the better of him and turn into something a little closer to convulsing, he felt the bed dip and smelt Murdock’s familiar body spray as his best friend in all the world climbed, fully dressed, under the covers with him. He immediately turned towards that warmth and Murdock was there for him, opening his arms and letting Face crush himself up against Murdock’s hard chest. Within seconds the shaking was subsiding, morphing into something more like trembling, and Murdock’s big hands were on his head and his back, keeping away from the shrapnel site, but just holding, soothing, comforting, and with two hands full of t-shirt, Face let himself start to come down.

_______________________

Face was sleeping, but Murdock was wide awake when he heard Hannibal and BA come in just short of three a.m. He lay still, holding Face securely while he slept and lifted his head to acknowledge he was awake when Hannibal cracked the door open. Hannibal nodded back, let his eyes run over Face’s sleeping form and then crept back out into the hallway. Murdock gave him a few minutes, made sure that his arrival hadn’t disturbed Face’s sleep, and then gently extracted himself from his friend’s grip, sliding out of the bed and following the sound of quiet voices down the stairs.

BA and Hannibal were both sat at the island in the middle of the kitchen, one on either side with two glasses and a bottle of Johnny Walker between them. BA leaned over to snag a third glass for Murdock while Hannibal pulled out a stool for him. “He okay?” he asked quietly as BA poured two fingers into the whisky glass.

Murdock downed them in one and BA filled his glass again.

“He’s okay,” he answered softly, “but really, really freaked out. What the fuck happened?”

Hannibal sighed and rubbed at his forehead before quickly relating everything that had occurred since he had left the house that morning. When he’d finished, the three sat in silence, each mulling over their own particular thoughts.

“Shit boss,” Murdock eventually whispered into the silence. “What if... what if Pike had decided to be a little more straightforward and a little less of a jackass? You’d be dead right now, both of you.”

BA shifted uncomfortably and Hannibal rubbed two fingers across his forehead. “But we’re not,” he ground out flatly. He couldn’t get that image of Face laid out in the alley, lifting the gun up to his head, pulling the trigger, actually pulling the fucking trigger, out of his head at all. It was like it was on a perpetually repeating loop, burning itself into his mind.

“He thought you were dead, Hannibal,” Murdock offered, reading the look in Hannibal’s eyes and automatically defending Face.

“I know, but how could he do that? I just-” he stopped, they all stopped, straining their ears to catch the sound drifting down from upstairs.

“Fuck...” in a moment, Hannibal was on his feet, running for the stairs, hearing Face’s shouts, wondering where the weapons were, wondering what he’d find in that bedroom... He burst through the door and saw Face was sitting upright in the sheets, awake now, his eyes confused and downright scared. He looked over at Hannibal standing in the doorway and then they both moved, Face leaning forwards, reaching out for the comfort, Hannibal climbing right onto the bed, crawling up and gathering him into his arms, both of them far, far too close to knowing what it was like to be alone.

They stayed like that, immobile in each other’s arms for long, silent minutes until Face needed more and edged around, letting his eyes stay closed and his lips feel their way along Hannibal’s jaw until he was close enough to reach the older man’s lips. He stretched up, pressing his own mouth firmly against Hannibal’s and slipping his tongue out to flick against closed lips, asking for the entrance he was always granted.

Not this time though. One minute Face was being held securely, his cock just starting to swell slightly at the promise of what was to come, the next he was being roughly pushed away, so hard he fell back against the headboard and Hannibal swung himself around, presenting his stiff back to Face as he let his head fall down into his hands.

Face was stunned into silence for almost a minute as the piercing pain of rejection slowly filtered through his body to pool coldly in his heart. And then it hit him, why Hannibal was turning him away, what he’d done in that alley, the way he’d killed Silas Pike. Shot after shot after shot he’d let rip into the bastard, and why? Because he’d lost control, let his emotions get the better of him and allowed his heart to rule his head. Stupid. Hannibal was always telling him he had to stop and think, he couldn’t get away with reacting like a five year old, that one day it would get someone killed.

Well, today it had done, but only Pike, who’d wanted to kill them all and hadn’t Hannibal said that was okay? That Face had had no choice? Or had he only said that to get him into the car? To let Hannibal clear up his mess and get their butts out of there before the cops turned up?

When they’d started on this whole ‘Soldiers of Fortune’ thing, Hannibal had told them, over and over again, that it was not their role to be a lynch mob. They would stop the bad guys and present them and enough evidence to the police so that they could be taken care of in an appropriate way. If the need was strong enough then they would use deadly force, but otherwise – no; in no circumstances at all were they going to turn into vigilantes.

So, was that what this was all about? That Face had killed Pike in cold blood when there had been no real need? Hannibal wasn’t dead, had never even been shot; all Face needed to have done was to turn around and look and they could have taken care of Pike in a much less bloodthirsty manner. But he hadn’t, he’d ended up blasting the guy’s internal organs all over the wall in the alley, and now Hannibal was disgusted in him, in the bloodlust he’d seen in Face’s eyes as he repeatedly pulled that trigger, so disgusted that he wouldn't let Face kiss him, didn’t want to hold him anymore... and where the hell did that leave their relationship now? His insides turned to ice, was it over? Was Hannibal so appalled in him that he didn’t want him in the team anymore? In his bed? Face swallowed hard, he couldn’t let that happen, he just couldn’t – he would do anything on earth to stop it.

“I’m sorry...” he choked out and Hannibal twitched slightly, looking at Face from under the hand cradling his head. “I can’t believe I did that,” he whispered, “I should never have shot him like that.”

That eye slid shut again and Hannibal wilted even more, his sigh clearly audible in the silence following Face’s words. The quiet stretched on and Face began to panic. He felt nauseous once more and wasn’t sure if it were due to his concussion or the waves of disapproval he could feel rolling off the boss. His heart was hammering against his ribs and he was sweating, that nasty cold sweat of fear. He couldn’t believe that his apology had fallen on deaf ears the way it had; if anything it had only seemed to stoke Hannibal’s resentment of him even higher. So if the apology had failed then what was left for him? Justification seemed the next best alternative.

“I thought you were dead,” he offered plaintively, “I saw him shoot at you, heard the shots, saw him laughing. How the fuck was I supposed to know he was only playing mind games?” Hannibal got to his feet and walked to the window, staring out sightlessly, tension obvious in every plane of his body from his folded arms to the veins that were standing out on his neck.

Face shifted to the edge of the bed, testing his swollen ankle on the floor and willed Hannibal to turn and face him, tell him it was alright, he understood. When no such reassurances came, he ploughed on. “So, maybe I didn’t do it the way you would have done, maybe I messed up where you wouldn’t have. But, shit, John, I did my fucking best!”

Still Hannibal stayed still and silent, staring out of the window and Face slowly got to his feet, the panic and the adrenalin in his veins masking the pain in his foot. “I know I shouldn’t have killed him,” he stated to Hannibal’s rigid back, “I know you always say that brings us right down to their level and we are better than that, should be better than that,” he shook his head and took a step in, tentatively resting a hand on Hannibal’s shoulder, “but I... I just lost it for a second there, I thought I’d lost you!”

Hannibal made a disgusted little growl and shrugged Face’s hand off him, a movement that hurt more than anything that Face had suffered at Pike’s hands in the last week. He recoiled physically from the man he loved, stumbling a little in his shock and suddenly the room was far too small and Hannibal’s presence was far too painful and he just needed to get away. He leaned heavily on the chest of drawers as he forced his ankle to take his weight long enough to get to the door and then he stopped, tears in his eyes, his throat as tight as a bow, shaking from the effort of standing on his own two feet. He gripped the door handle tightly and stared down at the beige carpet, determined to have one last go at bringing Hannibal round.

“I’m sorry John,” he whispered, the bitterness of his words impossible to miss. “I’m so fucking sorry that I’ve let you down here. But I did it because I love you,” he implored. “Because I thought he’d hurt you and I fucking love you.” There was no response. “You have no idea how I felt,” his voice scratched at his throat on the way out. “No idea what it was like to have to watch the man I love scythed down in front of me like that by a psycho with a gun...”

He depressed the handle, but before he had chance to even start to open the door, Hannibal was on him, swinging him around and slamming his back into the wall next to the door so hard he hit his head yet again. He started to slide down but then the boss was there, a big hand around his throat, holding him up, his furious face just inches from his lieutenant’s and Face froze, recognising a Hannibal Smith right at the end of his rope when he saw one. “No, Face I don’t!” Hannibal spat, boiling hot fury evident in every syllable. “But I do know how it feels to watch some dickhead with a piece threaten to blow you apart right in front of me ‘cause I’ve seen it, haven’t I? Too many fucking times to count!”

Face knew that was true, he’d felt that terror himself. But this was different, this time he’d really thought that Hannibal was dead.

“But they were all assholes,” Hannibal continued, “Pike one of the biggest ones going. What about if it’s not an asshole wielding the gun? What then, hey, Face? What then?”

Face just stared at him, thoroughly confused.

“You, Tried. To. Kill. Yourself!” Hannibal iterated, punctuating each word by banging Face against the wall. “I sat and watched as you lifted that gun and put it to your own fucking head! Your own head Face! How do you think that made me feel? What in fuck’s name were you even thinking?”

Things finally slid into place in Face’s head and he struggled against the hand on his throat. “I thought you were dead!” he defended himself desperately.

“You should have looked!” Hannibal yelled at him. “You should have fucking well checked!”

Face was rapidly losing control himself and the pressure of Hannibal’s grip on his neck was beginning to hurt. He wrapped both his hands around Hannibal’s wrists even as he started yelling back. “I didn’t want to see you dead! I didn’t want to remember you like that, all shot up and gone!”

“And that would have mattered? When you were planning on offing yourself anyway?” Face’s mouth opened but no sound came out. “And so I have to watch you blow your own fucking brains out all over the fucking ground instead then do I?!” Hannibal spat back. “DO I?!!”

Face had no answer to that, and with his silence, Hannibal’s fury ran out to be replaced by tragic resignation. “How can I ever trust you again after this?” he asked, the rawness of his voice impossible to miss.

“What?” Face asked quietly, shocked by the realisation of what he’d done.

“How can I let you go out on a job knowing that this is what you would do if the shit really hit the fan?” Hannibal asked him. “How can I let you run the risk of getting captured if I think you are gonna add yourself to the ‘death in custody’ statistics? How can I carry on this relationship with you if I think that every time we fight I’m gonna find you swinging from a rope somewhere?”

“John, I...” Face started, but he was soon cut off.

“I can’t trust you Face, I just can’t. And without trust then what the fuck is the point to all this?”

Face just stared, his eyes filling with moisture, the pain in his chest so acute he was having trouble breathing around it. “What do you mean?” he whispered, but Hannibal just shook his head and removed his hand, frowning at the marks he could already see standing out on Face’s skin.

“Just go to bed, Face,” he answered tiredly and turned at once, slipping out of the door, leaving Face to slide down the wall and slump into a heap on the carpet.

Next

Current Mood: awake
Current Music: DJ Fresh - Louder

Back in the present, on the bench outside in the sunshine, Hannibal found Face still looking at him expectantly, wanting an answer to his query, needing to know if his mother was still alive and he realised that, yet again, he couldn’t say the things that Face really wanted him to.

“She’s alive,” he said instead, watching how Face controlled himself, everything but that tiny softening of his stance that told Hannibal how relieved he was at the news. “But she’s unconscious, and I have no idea of her prognosis; the notes made little sense to me and Eddie wasn’t there to ask.”

Face nodded as he processed that information carefully. It was no surprise to him that Eddie wasn’t around, he hadn’t answered any of the numerous time Hannibal had called him over the last few days either. He rubbed absently at his jaw, wincing as his fingers inadvertently pressed on the bruise from Silas’ gun butt where it stretched down the side of his face and flicked his eyes up to Hannibal’s. “I should have come with you,” he said quietly. “Maybe she would have woken up if she’d heard me there.”

Doing his best to contain his sigh, Hannibal forced out a sad smile. He’d been relieved no end when Face had said he couldn’t bring himself to go to the hospital before they skipped town, Hannibal knew that the kid wasn’t ready, either physically or emotionally, and he himself just couldn’t face sweeping the broken pieces of his boy up off the floor one more time. The last thing he needed now was Face beating himself up over that decision.

“No,” he said, shaking his head, “it wouldn’t have made any difference, they’ve probably got her sedated anyway, and I didn’t get chance to talk to her, she was too close to the nurse’s station.” Again Face nodded but Hannibal could still see the guilt in his eyes. “Don’t worry about it,” he said gently, “if you decide you want to see her again in the next few weeks sometime, then we’ll come back, okay? Maybe when you don't stand out quite so much.” Hannibal was trying to lighten the mood a little, but knew that Face with his sling and the stick and all the bruising around his face was pretty hard to miss at the minute. “This was supposed to be a covert operation remember?”

Face let a wry grin slide through his expression, as Hannibal reached out and gripped his knee firmly. “Anyway, there’s nothing else we can do here,” he fixed Face’s troubled eyes with his own. “We know she’s still fighting this, still hanging on so now we do what we had planned – get you and Murdock back in top form and then go hunting for that bastard Pike, right?”

“Right,” Face agreed fairly unenthusiastically and Hannibal rose to his feet.

“Come on then, kid,” he said firmly, “let’s get this show on the road.”

Taking a deep breath, Face started to rise, leaning heavily on his stick and trying to put as little weight onto his ankle as possible. It wasn’t broken, but it was pretty badly banged up and it was obvious that he shouldn’t even have been on it yet. He’d been pretty insistent on coming on this little trip to the hospital though, and Hannibal sighed, wondering if it had been a mistake even letting him get up out of bed this morning.

Maybe it was because Hannibal was so concerned about Face’s ankle and the damage that he’d done by walking on it so soon, or maybe it was just due to the fact that he didn’t ever dream that Silas would be as bold as to turn up outside a city centre hospital at eleven o’ clock in the morning; but whatever the reason, Hannibal had, uncharacteristically, let his guard down as he watched Face prepare to struggle to his feet, so the gun barrel in his back and the hand on his shoulder came as a very, very unpleasant surprise.

“Well, hello there, old man,” Silas sneered right into his ear, making Hannibal’s toes curl in hatred. “I suggest you stand nice and still and don’t even think about going for your piece, or I aerate your spleen for you right here.”

Hannibal stood stock still as Pike fished his gun out of the waistband of his cords and glanced down at Face who was still on the bench, staring at Silas with a look of complete loathing in his expression. “And you, sweet cheeks,” Silas grinned at him, “I’ve not got hollow points here you know, I could take you both out with the same bullet, no sweat.”

Face’s eyes slid over to Hannibal and then back to Pike, but in that look a whole plan had been conveyed and finalised. It was the same plan they always tended to use in situations like this, and Face found it a depressing reflection of their lives that they even had a ‘one member of the team held at gunpoint’ standard response. Hannibal, being the one that had the barrel in his ribs would be the one to cause the distraction and Face, being the one who was relatively free to move, would do it whatever way he saw fit. Great, Face thought cynically, foolproof...

“Okay then boys,” Silas was being annoyingly chipper at this point in proceedings and Face knew that that didn’t bode at all well for the rest of the day as far as he and Hannibal were concerned. “Let’s get going, I have a car parked just around the corner there, and I think it’s such a nice day we should go for a ride, hey?”

Hannibal clamped his jaw tightly together, despite the temptation, it wasn’t wise to mouth off to someone as clearly unstable as Pike in a situation where he had a loaded gun in his ribs; he’d made the mistake of underestimating him once today, he sure as hell wasn’t going to do that again. His eyes flicked to Face once more as the kid finally heaved himself to his feet and he hoped that his smart mouth would stay closed as well.

“You alright there, then handsome?” Silas sneered at Face. “You’re looking a little peaky. Had a bad week?”

Hannibal held his breath, but Face just responded with a muttered, “Go to hell, Pike,” which had Silas laughing as they turned and made their way towards the alley way where the Cadillac was parked.

As they walked, slowly, with Face trying not to put any weight on his ankle at all, Hannibal forced aside all his self recrimination and concentrated on getting them both out of there in one piece. Face was still in a pretty bad way, he shouldn't even have been walking around out here like this, and there was absolutely no way in heaven or hell that Hannibal was going to let Pike hurt him again. Absolutely not, that was just not going to happen, but he knew he only had minutes to try and put something together.

He knew Face had read the plan from his expression in their one shared glance; it was a tried and tested method of escape that they had used over and over again during the past. However, today had its own added complications, the fact that Face really couldn’t even stand on his own yet and only had the use of one arm being the major difficulties, but the fact that they were out in a public area, people milling around them, oblivious to their plight, only made it more complex; there was no way that Hannibal could be responsible for starting a shoot out in the street on a busy lunch time.

“Come on, Peck,” Silas suddenly snarled, shocking Hannibal back to the here and now with a brutal jab of the gun barrel into his ribs, “Stop being such a fucking Queen and get a move on. I saw you earlier you know, I know you can walk faster than this, now shift.”

Face didn't look around but he did speed up slightly and Hannibal narrowed his eyes. His first thought at Pike’s words were that Face was deliberately walking slowly to give them a little more time to come up with something, but then he noticed the grey tinge to the kid’s face, the way his lips were pressed tightly together, and with a sinking feeling running right through his chest he realised that Face was in pain, in real, soul sucking pain, probably from his ankle and at that realisation, he watched as their chances of escape took an abrupt down turn.

Pike was incorrigible though, whistling happily now as they turned the corner into the alley way and suddenly everything went darker and quieter and Hannibal felt as if they had entered a shady, dangerous tunnel, with only one way in or out.

“Okay!” Pike sing songed as they reached the car. “I want your piece on the ground Peck, nice and slowly. I think you are pissing me at all, then the colonel here gets it. Capiche?”

Face didn't reply, he looked like he was struggling to stay on his feet, but he did reach back and pull his gun out of the waistband of his trousers slowly and carefully, holding Pike’s stare the whole time as he threw it to the ground to land a few feet to the left.

“Good boy,” Silas smiled patronisingly at him. “And now, if you just reach into the back seat of the car there, you will find a roll of duct tape. You need to get it out and you are going to come over here and use it on Smith for me. Off you go.”

For a second Face didn’t move, but then his eyes slid over to Hannibal and at the almost imperceptible nod he saw there, he leaned off the car and tugged the rear door open, bracing himself on the front seat as he reached in to snag the roll of tape.

It was as he straightened up that Hannibal made his move, suddenly sagging slightly against Pike, his head lolling and doing a perfect impersonation of someone on the edge of a faint. “What the fuck!?” Silas exclaimed, staggering as Hannibal leaned on him before rolling himself upright again even as he reeled forward.

“He’s gonna faint,” Face supplied, the fear in his voice real as he couldn’t quite believe that Hannibal was going for such a high risk manoeuvre. He started forward, only to freeze as Silas swung the gun from his pocket with its long suppressor on the barrel and pointed it at Face instead. Then Hannibal staggered again, stumbling into Pike and pushing him towards Face before finally collapsing to the ground in a fully credible impersonation of a dead faint.

For perhaps half a second, Silas was struck dumb, his gun pointing aimlessly in the space between his two captives and his mind undecided. It was within that tiny window of opportunity that Face moved, closing down the part of his brain that recognised pain he stepped forward and, slipping his arm out of its sling, grabbed Pike with both hands, stepping back and pulling him head first into the side of the car with all his strength.

Silas, however, was solidly built, and like BA before him, Face had underestimated that fact. Instead of hitting the car head first with enough force to crack bone, Pike only suffered a glancing blow, enough to hurt and bring up an egg on his forehead, but not enough even to stun. He staggered to his feet and Face, trapped between the open car door and the body of the vehicle itself, automatically lifted a foot to kick the still-poised weapon from Silas’ hand before he recovered enough presence of mind to use it. Unfortunately that meant transferring all his weight onto his damaged ankle, which, even though Face could have bitten down on the pain hard enough to get him through, was simply not strong enough to hold all his weight on its own and collapsed right underneath him.

He dropped like a stone, grabbing at the back seat and the door handle to save his butt from landing on the ground and, fast as lightening, just as Hannibal was launching himself forward, Silas moved. He reached out and grabbed the door, swinging it shut as hard as he could and smartly trapping Face’s head between the edge of the door and the frame of the car. There was a sickening thud and as the door bounced back open with the force of the slam, Face slithered down out of the gap and lay, bleeding from a fresh wound to his head, unconscious at Pike’s feet. Within a second the gun was trained on him and Hannibal froze, breathing hard as he looked at his adversary, who was silently poking at the purpling lump on his forehead, a look of purest loathing on his face.
_________________________

Face had no idea how long he had been unconscious. He awoke to a strong smell of petrol and a pounding head, and for a moment he wondered if he were back in the lock-up with Silas determined to give death-by-car-fumes one more go. He listened hard, so well versed in the act of waking up in dodgy situations that he didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, and didn’t even let his eyes flicker to let on that he was awake.

Once the ringing in his ears settled down, he heard voices, no, one voice, and his stomach rolled as he realised it was Silas Pike, and with the smug edge he could hear to it, knew that their escape attempt had failed.

Pike’s voice was behind him, and so far away that Face couldn’t work out anything he was saying. He opened his eyes, but it took a few moments before he could persuade them to focus on anything and then he found that he was still lying where he’d fallen in the filth next to the Cadillac. He couldn’t see Silas or Hannibal, but could still hear Pike’s smug monotone behind him and risked twisting his neck, looking back towards the alley wall. His eyes swam into focus and his stomach clenched in pure fear; Hannibal was laid on the ground in a pile of trash bags and empty cardboard boxes. Face knew it was him as he could see the dark brown cords and camel coloured sweater that he knew he’d been wearing that morning. He could also see the boss’ hands, wrapped up together with duct tape around the wrists and laying loosely over his stomach and he could tell by the way that they were all bruised and marked up that he’d been fighting with Silas.

The man himself was standing over Hannibal, breathing hard and bleeding from more than one place himself and, as Face began to slowly, slowly drag himself to his feet, he raised his gun from his side and pointed it at his prisoner, his words finally loud enough to hear. “You sure you don’t fear me old man?” Even though Face strained to listen, he couldn’t hear Hannibal’s reply at all, but he could hear Silas’ responding laugh. “Well, you should fear me. Peck does, he knows the pain I can inflict on him, the pain I am going to inflict on him once I’m through with you.” Face froze, knowing that he was too far away to get to Hannibal’s side and looking around desperately at the place where he’d thrown his Glock. It wasn’t there, of course it wasn’t there, but then Silas cocked his gun, the sound reverberating around the tight space and Face knew he’d run out of time.

He got to his feet, staggering as his head reeled and feeling the shooting pains in his ankle, his head, his ribs and his arm. He was slightly behind and to the right of Silas, maybe ten feet behind, literally in his blind spot and he knew that he had seconds to get there and knock him off his feet, give Hannibal the chance to get up and come bail him out. No sooner was that thought in his head, however, than Silas cocked his head on one side, considering Hannibal carefully. “You sure?” he prompted and even as Face was making his way over, gritting through the pain and deciding which angle was the best to tackle the bastard from, Silas’ gun spoke. Once, twice, three times, four, five, six... the silenced barrel popped in the alley way, sending shock waves reverberating up and down and Face staggered to a halt, his mind reeling in total disbelief.

Pike was at point blank range, his gun aiming straight to where Hannibal’s chest would be and Face looked over, terrified of what he would see but still only his colonel’s legs were visible, the rest of his body hidden by the boxes and Pike lowered his gun and laughed. That laugh broke through Face’s stunned shock and he literally propelled himself forward, blind, gut wrenching, agonised fury the only thing fuelling him on. He was maybe five steps from Silas now, who was still laughing, the gun held loosely in his hand and as he covered those steps, all he could hear were those pops again, over and over and over again. All he could see in his mind’s eye was Hannibal’s body as it leapt and jumped under the impact of the bullets. All he could imagine was the look of shock and pain on his lover’s face as it registered that he had been shot, that he was dying, that he was never going to get out of here and so neither was Face.

Face knew he was dead, knew that no one, not even the legendary and his most beloved Hannibal Smith could escape being shot like that from so close a range, and because of that – the fact that Hannibal was dead – Face realised that absolutely nothing else on earth mattered anymore; nothing. With that thought in his head, he tackled Pike around the waist even as he finally became aware of Face’s presence and turned, lifting his gun to finish the job. He never had the chance, Face’s grief leant him the strength and fury of a thousand men, and he slammed Silas’ wrists against the wall, spilling the gun from his grasp before following through with a solid right hook to the jaw.

Silas however, was no slouch himself, and even if Face’s rise from the ashes had taken him by surprise, he pulled himself together pretty quickly after that and rolled with Face’s fist, absorbing some of the impact and then bringing his own fist round, smashing into his adversary’s nose, showering them both with tiny droplets of blood as he did. For the second time in an hour, Face dropped like a stone, but this time only stunned, and the sight of Silas’ gun, laid in the garbage right at his finger tips, soon snapped him back into full awareness.

It was in his hand and swinging around even as Silas’ face was starting to cloud with fear. Face didn’t hesitate, his finger squeezed and shot off round after round, his aim automatically altering as Silas jerked back with the impact of the first bullet then started his own slide to the ground, eyes wide and shocked. Face didn’t see that though, through his increasingly blurring vision all he saw was Hannibal as Silas shot him again and again, and it didn’t matter how many times he pulled the trigger himself, that searing pain he felt in every fibre of his existence didn’t diminish in the slightest; so he stopped. He let himself slump down, flat to the ground himself even as Silas mirrored his movements, his eyes wide and unmistakably empty.

For a second there was silence, only the sound of Face’s ragged breathing reached his ears, but then he heard a choking sob, and as he closed his eyes against the welling tears he realised that it came from him but it still didn’t help, nothing would help him now, there was nothing in his life, nothing to love, nothing to cherish – nothing to even breathe for. Of all the things that Adele had stolen from him over the years, his childhood, his father, his home, his innocence – this was by far the worst. Her intervention in his life, leading Silas Pike right to him like this, had cost him Hannibal - his entire reason for living, his only reason to carry on breathing, the centre of his world.

There was no doubt in Face’s mind what he needed to do now. He was sprawled in an alley way with two dead bodies full of bullets, the gun that killed them both still in his hand. Even though the shots had been suppressed Face knew that they would have been heard by someone, and that it wouldn’t be long before the police arrived. So he needed to get up, to move the bodies into the Cadillac, to find some keys on Pike and get the hell out of here.

But he couldn’t, he just... couldn’t. How could he force himself up and look at Hannibal now? Did he want to see what the bullets had done to the man he loved more than anything else in existence? No, of course he didn’t, he didn't want to do that, he didn't want to do anything anymore – nothing mattered. Not Pike or the cops or Adele, or even, God forgive him, Murdock and BA. The only thing there was in his life now was pain, pain he knew just how to get rid of.

Almost in a daze he lifted his arm, Pike’s gun still wrapped tight in his fingers and moved it until he could feel the cool metal of the barrel on his forehead. He didn’t bother opening his eyes but forced himself to breathe deeply, he could do this, all he needed was a moment, a second of calm and he could do it, pull that trigger and it would all be over, every pain he’d ever experienced wouldn’t even be a memory any more.

His finger twitched and he paused, wondering where he would end up, wondering if the teachings from the orphanage were right and he was about to sin, would go straight to hell for what he was about to do. But then he realised he was already in hell anyway, so what did it even matter? He squeezed the trigger.

Next

Current Mood: crushed
Current Music: Rooster - Good to Be Here

As it was, Hannibal didn't even get the chance to worry about BA. As soon as he locked the double doors behind the van, he headed over to the corner to check on his patients and found a distressed looking Murdock holding onto Face’s fingers with one hand while he stroked his hair with the other. “He aint lookin’ good, bossman,” he murmured as Hannibal approached him. “That guy from the hospital, Pike’s brother, he do this to him?”

“’Fraid so, captain,” Hannibal replied, noticing that Face’s second bag of blood was two thirds through and bending to take his BP again. “And how are you feeling now?”

He saw Murdock’s shoulders under the thin hospital gown stoop and his head drop to stare at the floor before the pilot answered him. “I’m okay thanks, sir,” he whispered, “I’m sorry I zoned out on y’all there, dunno what came over me.”

Hannibal froze and stared at Murdock’s bent head. “Murdock,” he instructed firmly, “son, look at me here.” Murdock raised his head, his flushed, embarrassed face the last thing Hannibal needed to see at the moment. “You do know,” he said softly, “that you were poisoned don’t you? That Adele laced the cordial with some psychoactive plant?”

By the look on Murdock’s face, it was obvious he didn’t know. “She... she did that...?” he stammered, his eyes flicking to Face on the cot as sudden, horrific realisation washed over him, “and that?” he nodded, his voice rising the whole time.

Too damn exhausted and worried to get irate alongside Murdock just now, Hannibal only nodded as he finished off the BP reading, keeping his eyes on his captain, hoping that the news wouldn’t bring on a relapse.

“Fucking hell fire...” Murdock breathed, looking pale and shocked. “I mean, I knew she was up to no good, but wanting that for her boy,” he shook his head and Hannibal frowned at the tears he saw in Murdock’s eyes. “He doesn’t deserve that Hannibal does he? Poor Faceman...”

Hannibal sighed and got to his feet wondering if he could donate another unit of blood for Face as the kid’s BP was on its way down again, “Murdock,” he said soothingly, trying to keep the worry from his face, “he’s gonna be fine now. He’s got us, and you know that’s all he needs.” He pulled the covers back on the cot Murdock was sitting on. “Come on,” he instructed, “you’re cold and you still look a little washed out, get under the covers and try to rest.”

Murdock let Hannibal help him into bed and then stretched his hand out across the divide, trying to reach Face again. Hannibal moved out of the gap between the two cots and pushed on Murdock’s, sliding them until they were flush together. “Thanks bossman,” Murdock mumbled as he turned onto his side and lay one arm over Face’s chest, the other curling around his head, then he closed his eyes and Hannibal could tell he was asleep even before he’d managed to rig up the blood donation kit for himself.

It had been only three weeks since he’d given blood himself, but he didn’t want to run the risk of not having any available should it become essential that Face get some more, so settled down to watch his charges and the clock as the bag at his side slowly filled with warm, fresh AB+.

The unmistakable growl of the van’s souped-up engine startled him when BA had been gone just over seventy minutes. Hannibal surreptitiously slid his gun from its holster and snapped the safety off, keeping it hidden by his side for the time being as he listened to footsteps approaching the doors. Then there was the sound of a key in the lock and he allowed himself to relax just a tiny bit before the doors swung open and BA’s reassuring presence was looking in at him.

“Okay?” they asked simultaneously, and Hannibal allowed himself a dry smile. “Both sleeping,” he reported quickly. “And you?”

“No probs,” he answered, walking back to drive the van in, “no sign of anyone an’ I cleared the whole house of our stuff.”

Hannibal nodded, relieved beyond anything that BA had completed his mission uneventfully, but now faced with a decision that he’d always hoped he wouldn’t have to make.

Within minutes BA was standing next to him, looking down at Murdock and Face and the way that the pilot was still wrapped around their unresponsive team mate. “Well?” he asked quietly, knowing that Hannibal would know exactly what he was getting at.

A long drawn out sigh was the only answer he got at first, but then he watched as Hannibal reached out and placed a hand on Face’s shin, stroking the limb under the covers with his thumb as he spoke. “His BP is still dropping, I’m worried he’s got internal bleeding, I don't think we have much of a choice here.”

They looked at each other in silent conversation before BA asked, “You want to take him in now?”

The agony on Hannibal’s face was clearly visible. “I suppose so, but once they see those marks on his body, the bullet wound, they’re gonna call the cops for sure, maybe even finger print him anyway.” The same thoughts had occurred to BA as well, but what could they do? If Face was bleeding internally, then keeping him here was akin to shooting him dead themselves. Eventually Hannibal came to his decision. “One more bag of fluid,” he said quietly. “If his BP doesn’t pick up with this bag, we’ll take him in.”

BA added his sigh to Hannibal’s and then passed him a clear plastic folder, “Here,” he said watching Hannibal’s face carefully, “this is his emergency pack.”

Hannibal took it and opened it, looking at the top sheet before dropping the whole packet onto the floor at his feet and burying his face in one hand.

BA walked past him, squeezing his shoulder as he went by, giving the boss a bit of space and privacy to get himself back together. It had hit BA in almost the same way when he had looked at Face’s self-made file back at the house, although, really, he thought later, he should never have been surprised. Wasn’t it obvious that Face, the boy who wanted nothing more than a family and an identity of his own, should call himself ‘Jack Smith’ in his emergency i.d. pack?

___

Three days later...

Hannibal looked at all the hospital monitors as they bleeped and flashed and wondered if he could work out what each one was actually doing here. But then he realised it didn't matter, all he had to know was that they were bringing life to the broken body on the bed, and that as long as they continued to do that, he wouldn’t worry about them.

He had taken a huge risk coming in here, but three days without word had been almost more than could be tolerated. He’d had the place under surveillance of course, and knew that the police were very, very suspicious of the tale they’d been told and the injuries they had seen. It would only be a matter of time before something similar to the truth came out and then there would be no going back. Hannibal only hoped that he was long gone by then, dragging the rest of the team down with him would be the greatest sin he could ever commit. But eventually he’d decided the risk in one single visit to ICU was worth it, after all, they were driving up into the mountains later this same day, so who knew when he would be able to get the opportunity to come back? Maybe this was the only chance there would be to explain that they were going out of town, maybe for quite a while...

But when the push came to the shove, he hadn’t said a word to the pale, still figure lying in the bed, had only stared and tried to work out the medical jargon in the notes at the end of the bed and if he had done the right thing three days ago, was doing the right thing now. He pulled his surgical mask up a little higher, knowing that the strict anti contamination rules they had in place here were protecting him from the ever present CCTV cameras as well.

He sighed and took a step closer to the bed, determined to say what he had come here to say, deliver the messages he wanted to stay behind as he left LA, possibly for quite a while, but as he opened his mouth to start he heard voices out at the Nurse’s station in the corridor and looked up, brow creasing at the two cops leaning on the desk, obviously showing the nurse on duty there a photograph.

Hannibal took a step back, as the nurse shook her head, but pointed in his direction anyway and Hannibal knew his time was up. With one last, long look at the silent figure on the bed, he slipped around the bed, and keeping his mask on and his head down, walked in the opposite direction to the nurse’s station until he came to the fire exit right at the far end. Without a backwards glance, he buried his regrets, along with his gown, cap and mask, in the linen chute and slipped out into the stairwell, heading up as fast as his long legs would carry him.

He went up to the seventh floor and then cut across the entire hospital until he came to the glass elevators overlooking the main street below. There were no police cars, no MPs and so Hannibal felt fairly safe in riding it down to the main entrance where he buried himself in the mass of people milling about and made sure he ‘sneezed’ at just the right time as he was passing the CCTV camera by the main doors.

In seconds he was out in the sunshine and striding purposefully toward where he had left his nondescript Station wagon, a replacement for the trusty Chevy, and knowing he had to get back to the warehouse soon as leaving Murdock and BA on their own for any length of time was just a complete recipe for disaster. He was almost there, could see its dirty brown front end jutting out further than any other car when a voice to one side startled him and he looked around.

Frowning at the sight that met his eyes, Hannibal looked quickly around and then changed his path, walking right up to the person who had called him, the person who was sitting on a bench in the sunshine, watching him carefully.

“What are you doing here?” Hannibal snapped as his opening greeting, “I told you I would only let you come if you waited in the car for me!”

Face shifted uncomfortably, leaning his stick against the bench so that he could adjust the sling that supported his arm. “It was fucking hot in the car,” he grumbled, “and I just wanted to know how she was,” he added plaintively, “just wanted to know if she’d made it...”

Sighing, Hannibal sat down next to him, letting a big hand rest gently on his knee as he forced himself to remember how hard all this had been on Face. That last bag of blood had done the trick, finally boosting his BP up into acceptable limits and Hannibal realised that maybe the kid had lost more blood than he had at first thought, and with a sense of relief so high, he had packed the emergency i.d back into the fireproof box where they stored all their most important things and settled down to watch Face through the night while his other two men caught up on their sleep.

It had been just after three in the morning, when a sharp intake of breath alerted Hannibal that Face was awake, and trying not to let his hopes soar too high, Hannibal had slipped of his chair and knelt on the floor next to the cot, stroking Face’s forehead and gripping his fingers tightly. “Hey baby,” he whispered and watched as Face’s pupils struggled to focus on him, “How you doing?”

It took a moment, but then that focus was clear and the most amazing, beautiful angel’s smile filled Face’s entire countenance. “Boss,” he whispered, quiet and exhausted still, “you got to me in time.”

Hannibal smiled back, tears in his eyes and stroked Face’s hair back off his forehead, “I did, sweetheart,” he whispered, “I did.”

Face let his eyes slip shut, but the smile remained. “Tired,” he said, already drifting off into a more natural sleep.

“Then go to sleep,” he whispered, “and we’ll all be here in the morning as well,” and Face had done just that while Hannibal watched him. And then when BA had woken and taken over the watch, Hannibal had pushed another cot along Face’s and Murdock’s and laid down, draping his arm next to Murdock’s and finally letting himself get some rest.

________________________

When Face awoke again, the sun was high in the sky, not that any of the occupants of the unit could see, there being no windows at all to let in the natural light, but that had been one of the reasons that Hannibal had chosen this particular unit in the first place. He came back to his senses slowly and cautiously, enough of the pain and terror of the last twenty hours remaining to pervade his foggy consciousness.

But then the feel of a hand in his hair and the identities of the voices around him permeated through the fear and, eyes starting to flicker, he smiled again, despite the pain from his injuries that were all starting to wake up and announce themselves to him.

“Hey, kiddo!” Hannibal’s deep voice was the first to direct itself at him in particular. “You back with us? How’re you feeling?”

Face opened his eyes to find his head on a pillow in Hannibal’s lap, his body stretched out on the cot and lovingly wrapped in blankets against the chill of the unit. Hannibal was sitting at the head of the cot, his back against the wall, BA perched on a chair next to them both and a pale looking Murdock was curled on his side under the blankets of the cot next to BA, his head, resting on two pillows, down at the end opposite Face.

“Urm, yeah,” he cleared his throat and shifted his weight slightly, “pretty much like BA rolled on me really. Yeah, like that.”

Hannibal and BA laughed, and Face was filled with a spreading warmth as he felt Hannibal’s laughter rumbling through his chest. “You wanna coffee there, Pretty?” BA asked him, already getting to his feet in anticipation of the answer.

“Fuck, yes,” Face answered and his stomach rolled loudly in agreement.

BA laughed again as he headed off to the other side of the unit, “I’ll find you somethin’ to eat as well then.”

Face smiled in thanks and turned to Murdock who hadn’t moved, hadn’t made a sound since he had awoken. “Hey, buddy,” he greeted him cautiously. “You feeling better now?”

Murdock nodded. “BA says you saved my life...” he said quietly. “From all them drugs I took. You know I never meant to.”

Face struggled to sit up and he felt Hannibal’s hand in his back, pushing him up, helping him to save his ribs. “Of course I know that,” Face reassured him earnestly. “I know you, HM, I know you didn’t mean it.”

Murdock nodded. “Thanks though,” his face was still sincere, “I appreciate it.”

Winking, Face smiled at him, swallowing around the lump in his throat, “You’re welcome, bud,” he knew from past experience that arguing with Murdock here was pointless and it was better to let his friend just get all this off his chest if that’s what he wanted. But then his expression darkened as a rather unwelcome memory suddenly came back. “After all,” he said bleakly, lying back in Hannibal’s lap, “it was my mother who tried to poison you...”

He missed the dark look that passed between Hannibal and Murdock at that point and closed his eyes for a moment, opening them again to smile flatly up at Hannibal but they were prevented from any further conversation by the arrival of BA with coffee and Pop Tarts.

_____________________________

Conversation had been nothing more than light banter as Face demolished his Pop Tarts, and BA went back to make him some more. But then, at a nod from Hannibal that Face really couldn’t miss, Murdock said he was going to go to the bathroom and try to get as good a wash as the tiny sink would allow him, while BA offered to go with him as the pilot was still a little unsure on his feet.

Face waited until they door to the tiny washroom had closed behind them and then he sat up again, wiping Pop Tart crumbs off the bandages wrapping up his ribs and twisting slightly to look over his shoulder at Hannibal. “Alright, boss,” he asked quietly, “what is it?” For a second it looked as though Hannibal was going to brazen it out, but then Face saw him visibly wilt and scrub a hand through his hair and look so tired and fed up that Face felt his heart start up in fear. “What?” he repeated, a little edgier this time.

Hannibal shifted forward and pulled the blankets around Face’s bare torso, frowning at the goose flesh he could already see between the dressings and the wounds, then held the blankets together in Face’s lap himself, straddling the cot right in front of his boy. “Boss...?” Face prompted again.

“Okay,” Hannibal swallowed and looked right into those fear filled blue eyes. Taking a deep breath, he started. “When we were leaving Pike’s lock-up, he was waiting to ambush us, he had some kind of automatic weapon with him.”

Face frowned, this was where he may expect to hear that one of the team were down, but they weren’t, he’d seen them with his own eyes, just three minutes ago, they were fine all fine, he looked up, his face pulled in confusion, and then something hit him, something that made his heart pound even faster and sweat stand out on his chilled skin. Hannibal shifted even closer and, keeping one fist tight on the blankets, let the other hand drift around onto Face’s hip, stroking him through the layers of fleece, keeping him grounded.

“He got in a lucky shot, hit Adele in the back of the head.”

“No!” Face physically recoiled, it was like he was the one who’d been shot and Hannibal kept a tight hold of the fleece, keeping him close, while the hand on his hip slipped around to the small of his back holding him steady.

“She was breathing when we left her, the EMT’s were only minutes away and she had a friend with her.” Face just stared, far too shocked to even say a word. “I haven’t been able to get through to her friend since though, and the hospital won’t tell me a thing, not even if she’s still alive or - not. I’m so sorry,” he finished lamely.

Still Face just looked at him and Hannibal felt his heart break for the kid, the confusion in his expression, the hurt, the hopelessness and the anger. They just stared, Face wrestling with all that was inside him before he finally, forlornly, shook his head, tears standing in his eyes. “I-,” he started and then swallowed, hard before trying again “All... All she ever did was lie to me, Hannibal,” he whispered brokenly. “She just used me to get to some fucking fictional pot of money that Pike spun had her a line on; she never loved me, never wanted me.” Hannibal rubbed his back trying to offer just a tiny crumb of comfort. “She lied about why she left me,” Face continued quietly. “She lied about how I was conceived, she lied about not knowing who my father was...” He shook his head, totally and utterly destroyed by it all and Hannibal stored away that fact about his father for later, to revisit at a better time.

“She never cared about me,” Face whispered and his eyes fell on Hannibal’s fist where it tightly gripped the blankets in his lap and, as he followed his boy’s stare, Hannibal felt his chest tighten at the two silver droplets he could see standing on the green fleece of the blanket.

He lifted his hand from Face’s back and ran it up to his nape instead, a solid, comforting presence and Face, taking strength from that support, took a deep, shuddering breath and ploughed on. “She didn’t help me when I really needed her to, when I was too small to fight my own battles, and then gave me away when she couldn’t face what she’d done,” he whispered and Hannibal filed that statement away for later as well. “She drank coffee while Pike tortured me,” he added, so matter of fact that it brought an involuntary tightening of the hand at his neck, “and she could have killed my best friend...”

Silence fell and Hannibal waited, his eyes on the back of Face’s bent neck, the mark from Silas’ injection still visible as Face struggled to hold it all together, his shoulders heaving with the effort of keeping things locked up tight. He took his own deep breath and forced his simmering anger back down; that was not what Face needed here, and Hannibal was determined to do whatever it was that Face needed. He leaned in and pressed a kiss on top of his boy’s dirty hair, trying to tell him it was okay to feel whatever he was feeling, that he was here for him, always would be.

Face looked up and, even though it was expected, Hannibal felt a searing pain in his chest on seeing those tear tracks down his cheeks. “So, why?” Face asked, his voice small in the huge space of the unit, his eyes, huge and shining and begging Hannibal for an answer. “Why do I care whether she’s dead or not?” he shook his head. “She certainly wouldn’t lose any sleep if it were me that’d been shot, so why do I care? Why does it hurt so much? Right fucking here.” His fist thumped hard over his heart at that last word, and Hannibal winced, knowing the pain inside that had led to that action, but also seeing the bruising to those ribs that Adele must have stood by and watched happen.

But there was no time to dwell on that further, or time to consider any of the revelations that Face had dropped on him so far, because the last words out of his mouth had finally done what Adele hadn’t managed to do, and broken him so completely that he sagged forward into Hannibal’s arms, letting himself be caught and held and loved.

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” Hannibal murmured into his head, holding him and rocking him while Face just slumped against him, too shattered even to cry any more. “I tried to get everyone out in one piece and BA was doing the best he could to cover...”

“Not your fault,” Face mumbled against him as Hannibal could feel his whole body shuddering with emotion, “either of you. Shit. It’s not like she didn’t have it coming to her...”

Mindful of his ribs and the bullet track in his bicep, Hannibal hugged him closer, trying to still the shaking. “I’m sorry I wasn't there for you when you saw her, when Silas took you. Hurt you...”

“You’re not gonna be there for every mess I ever get into, boss,” Face whispered brokenly. “You can’t beat yourself up over this.”

Hannibal felt his heart swell at those words and ran a hand through Face’s hair as he spoke. “I’m not,” he reassured him, thinking how typical it was of Face that he were trying to comfort him, trying to make him feel better after all this crap. “I just wish I could have saved you from all this hurt.”

Face laughed from somewhere in Hannibal’s sweatshirt, but it was broken, a hollow, empty sound. “You couldn’t have helped me; you weren’t there from the day I was conceived. I think my card was pretty well marked from then on in.”

Going back to kissing his head, stroking his back, Hannibal wished with everything he had that things had been different for Face as a child. But then, he admitted to himself, if they had, would they be where they were right now? Together? That possibility, a life without Face at his side, was just too awful to even contemplate.

“It hurts you so much,” he said, going back to Face’s earlier question about Adele, “because you are a good, good, soul, Face. You care about people, and you care enough to want to make things better for them, to put yourself on the line for them. That’s not a character trait that Adele has ever had. I’m afraid the only person she has ever cared about is herself.”

Frowning, Face lifted his head from Hannibal’s chest and Hannibal couldn’t resist cupping his cheek and leaning in for the lightest of kisses on his bruised mouth.

“She said,” Face was still frowning as Hannibal pulled away; he was trying to chase a memory that just wouldn’t sit still. “She said she loved my father...” Hannibal waited in silence, sensing that a word here could lose the tenuous memory forever. “No,” Face’s frown deepened. “No, she didn’t, she said he’d loved her.” Hannibal thought of Eddie’s dog-like devotion and wondered how well Adele cultivated her gift of snaring people. “She said I’d loved her,” Face admitted quietly, his guilt ridden eyes on Hannibal’s.

“Of course you did,” Hannibal soothed him, knowing that this was something that Face needed permission for, his complex feelings over the woman that had hurt them all so much. “She’s your mother, Face. You were bound to love her,” he smiled sadly at the intense devastation in Face’s eyes. “You still love her now, don’t you? You have such a pure heart, you can’t help it.”

And there it was, a new, searing wave of pain let loose with Hannibal’s words. “I hate her,” Face replied brokenly, fresh tears welling up in his eyes. “For all she’s done, I hate her!”

“I know, baby,” Hannibal soothed him, letting go of the fleece now, two hands on his cheeks, stroking him gently. “I know you do. Anyone in your position would, but you can’t shift all that love you once had for her either can you? Not completely?” Face just stared at him. “And that’s fine too, Face. I understand, anyone would understand. Doesn’t mean you like her, doesn’t mean you want to see her, just means you are beautiful enough to still love her despite all she’s done.”

Face just stared at him and Hannibal waited, seeing the turmoil in those expressive blue eyes and patiently waiting for it to resolve itself.

“If she dies,” he whispered eventually, “then it’s all over isn’t it?” Hannibal frowned slightly, not quite sure he understood. “All the things I’d always hoped for, that one day I’d find her and she’d like me and she’d want me and I’d have cousins and relatives, you know? That’s all gone then isn’t it?”

Hannibal had been sure he couldn’t have felt any more desperately sorry for Face than he had done five minutes ago, but that little speech, straight from the heart of a six year old, who despite every way his feckless mother had treated him, desperately wanted her to come back and start acting like a real mommy for once, well, that was just about more than he could take. If Adele did survive Pike’s bullet, he would have to work hard to resist the temptation to shoot her again himself.

But he had no idea at all on how to answer Face’s question, what to say that could even start to make it alright, so instead he had just pulled his boy back into his chest and held him tight, stroking and soothing, murmuring words of love, until Murdock and BA came out of the washroom.

Next

Current Mood: cold
Current Music: Hard-Fi - Stars of CCTV

BA glanced down at his watch, only five minutes since he’d arrived, but hell, it felt longer. He shuffled uncomfortably on the hard seat and caught the eye of the nurse who’d spoken to him and she smiled sympathetically before rising and saying, “I’ll see what I can find out for you,” before disappearing into the small office at the back.

Leaning back in his chair, BA crossed his feet at the ankles and tried to force some calm into his limbs. Pike wasn’t here, he probably hadn’t even considered coming after Murdock. He’d just taken a bullet off the boss after all, maybe not in the exact place that Hannibal had planned for it, because then the bastard would be dead like his damn brother, but he was hurt. If he any sense at all he’d just disappear and lick his wounds somewhere.

BA thought about Brock Pike and that huge wave of guilt reared its head once more. Silas Pike had taken Face because he thought Face had killed his brother, but of course it wasn’t Face, was it? It wasn’t Face who should have gone through all of this, suffered like this - it should have been him. But then BA shuddered, because, well, look at everything Pike and Adele had done to get close to Face - what would they have done for BA? Would his momma have been dragged into this? Would they have used her to get to him? He sat up straight again, all that anger coming back. No way. No way was he gonna let that sick bastard anywhere near his family – the ones in Chicago, or the ones right here, right now.

Voices drifted out from the office at the back and BA strained to listen as he heard Murdock’s alias mentioned. “It’s not a doctor I’ve seen before, that’s all,” the nurse was saying, “and I wondered if Mr. Taylor would like his friend there to talk with the doctor, after all he’s not been awake that long.”

Alarms sounded in BA’s head and he was on his feet and making his way down the corridor to Murdock’s room before he even realised. He stopped at the closed wooden door and leant his ear against it, listening hard, and at the sound of a muted struggled inside he didn’t wait a second longer. With speed and agility that often surprised those who didn’t know him, BA was inside, door closed firmly behind him and yanking Pike off Murdock’s struggling body before Pike had had the chance to see what he was up against. The pillow that Pike had been holding down over Murdock’s head fell to the floor and BA felt a surge of relief at the noisy gasps he could hear coming from the person on the bed.

Silas Pike was made of thick, solid muscle, and so was heavier than BA had accounted for. The move that he had hoped would throw Murdock’s assailant across the room only had him staggering back a few paces, incredibly keeping his feet. BA frowned, but seeing the blood on Pike’s shirt where his doctor’s coat hung open he took his opportunity and slammed a fist right in, right on that dark red target left by Face and was gratified to hear the groan of pain as Pike collapsed on the floor.

“BA!” Murdock’s voice was nothing other than a dry rasp and BA turned to look seeing the pilot still struggling with the ligature around his neck and BA swore, realising that the pillow was only a device to keep his victim quiet while he throttled him with something much more effective. He was at the bedside in two strides, his big fingers delicately loosening the cord and unthreading it from Murdock’s bruised neck.

“Okay? You okay, Crazy?” he asked, not even noticing his familiar nickname for the pilot in his desperate concern.

Murdock nodded, holding tight to both of BA’s forearms as he swallowed in huge gulps of air. “Yeah,” he gasped, “Yeah. Listen, big guy, we gotta warn Face. His mother, she-”

“I know, he knows,” BA soothed. “It’s all sorted man, we just gonna get out of here an’ lay low for a while.”

“He knows?” Murdock asked, worry in his eyes as he looked up at BA, “How is he? He- BA!”

BA tensed at the panicked look Murdock was sending over his shoulder and dragged the dinner tray off Murdock’s table as he turned, throwing it up as part shield, part weapon, managing to deflect the table lamp that Silas had swinging his way so that it only hit his shoulder and not his head. Even so, the force of the blow was enough to send BA reeling, bouncing off the wall and then falling, Silas on him in a flash, his knees on BA’s chest, his hands around his throat.

“This is even better,” Silas hissed as he put all of his weight into crushing BA’s windpipe. “Peck won’t know what hit him when I kill both you and the crazy guy over there! Revenge is sweet after all.”

BA twisted his neck, turning so that Silas’ thumbs weren’t pressing right on his airway anymore and braced a foot against the bed. “Aint Face you need revenge on, fool!” he gasped, twisting his body under the weight pinning him down. “He didn’t kill your brother! I did! You been picking on the wrong man, sucka!”

A dark anger flooded Silas’ face and he leant down harder, his eyes boring into BA’s. “Yeah? Well I’ll enjoy this even more then, watching you die by my hand this time!”

Suddenly, BA’s whole body leapt into the air as he pushed with the leg braced against the bed. The move unseated Silas, but instead of coming off as BA had hoped he would, his solid bulk meant that he only slid forward, his hands keeping up their pressure on BA’s abused neck.

“Not good enough, loser,” Silas hissed and moved in for the kill, his face, savagely satisfied, staring right into BA’s.

BA struggled, knowing that if he fell here, then Murdock was next on Silas’ list, and then Hannibal and Face would be unprotected as well. But Silas was heavy and solid, and little black dots were starting to appear in BA’s vision and he knew his time was running out.

“Die!” Silas hissed at him, his eyes narrowed in hatred, “Die you fucking murderer!” and BA began to think he would. “Go, on, die you-” and then suddenly it was all gone, the pressure on his neck, the pressure on his chest, that cold face, the words of hate and BA sucked in a beautiful breath as he blinked away the spots in his eyes to find himself looking up at Murdock standing above him.

The pilot was wearing his hospital gown and swaying on the spot, but with the table lamp still clutched tight in his fingers. “You alright, Bosco?” he asked slowly and BA smiled, scrambling quickly to his feet.

“Oh, yeah, Crazy,” he said, grinning through his gasping breaths as he took the lamp from Murdock’s hand and dropped it on the bed. “I couldn’t be better now, seein’ you like that,” laughter wheezed out from his lips and Murdock returned the grin even as his swaying got worse. “Here, man,” BA rasped, stepping forward, “let me carry you, we’re outta here brother.”

Murdock only nodded and let BA scoop him up in his arms and then, stepping over Pike’s prone form on the way, BA did a quick furtive check up and down the corridor before he stepped out and made his way at a quick jog towards the fire exit.

______________________________

Hannibal sat back in his chair, with the laptop on his knee and chewed his lip thoughtfully as he looked at Face. The kid was still on oxygen, and had just started on his second unit of blood which was pushing his blood pressure back up to something near normal. His arm had been redressed, and the bleeding had finally stopped and Hannibal had cleaned and treated all the lashes on his body, finishing off by wrapping up his ribs and his swollen ankle, which Hannibal was just hoping wasn’t broken.

But still Face hadn’t stirred, not one flicker of an eyelid had met Hannibal’s treatment of him, not even when some of the deeper wounds had been stitched. The constant soothing monologue hadn’t worked either, and in desperation, Hannibal had even tried ordering Face to respond to him, but nothing had succeeded. He looked back at the open laptop on his knee and rubbed at his head, wondering if it was the blood loss, the carbon monoxide, the blow to his head, the pin prick injection site on his neck, or any of his other many injuries that was keeping Face from waking up.

He was worried, worried about BA and Murdock, yes, not sure what was keeping them, but also worried about Face. He was no doctor here, he’d done everything he could think of, everything he’d found on the internet to help him, and still Face was out cold. There was an uncomfortable niggling deep in his brain that told him Face needed a hospital...

The sound of the Sunfire’s rough engine outside alerted him to BA’s arrival and he ran to open the garage doors for them.

As soon as they were in and Hannibal had checked the around their rapidly darkening surroundings to make sure they hadn’t been followed, he turned to help a rather fragile looking Murdock, still barefoot and in his hospital gown, as he pulled himself from the car.

“Murdock,” he greeted him, looking him over from his pale complexion, to the thin purple ligature mark around his neck.

“Colonel!” Murdock replied, snapping off a quick salute, but Hannibal ignored him, choosing to grab hold of him instead, pulling him hard against his chest in an enthusiastic, if slightly awkward, hug.

“Good to have you back, HM,” he nodded, his cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment and Murdock smiled at him as they separated.

“Good to be back,” he drawled in his best Texan twang. Then, “Where’s Face?” he asked suddenly, eyes flicking around the unit and Hannibal nodded over to the corner they used for sleeping and Murdock disappeared, bare feet slapping on the floor as he weaved, unsteadily towards the cots.

Hannibal turned to BA and the big guy saw his commander’s eyes flick to the bruises showing dark on his neck before narrowing as they moved back to his eyes, “Report,” he ordered brusquely.

“Pike was there when I got there,” BA said quietly. “’Cept I didn’t know, they told me he was with a doc an’ I had to wait outside.” Hannibal nodded, understanding the guilt he’d seen in his corporal’s face as soon as he’d looked at him.

“Understandable,” Hannibal reassured quickly, wanting to hear the rest of the story.

BA nodded, still unconvinced, but continued anyway, knowing that there would be time enough for guilt later. “So when I went in he was attackin’ HM, had a pillow on his face, cord round his neck.” If at all possible, Hannibal’s eyes darkened further. “We fought,” the slightest twitch of a smile pulled at BA’s lips, “An’ Murdock took him out with a lamp.”

“Dead?” Hannibal asked, not seeing the funny side of that just yet and BA shrugged.

“Dunno man,” he admitted, “we hadta scarper quick, all that noise, someone hadta be comin’.”

“Okay, BA,” Hannibal rubbed at his forehead, a sure sign he was stressed. “That’s fine for now, and then,” they locked eyes, “after this, we go after him, hunt him down. I’m not letting him blindside us like this again.”

BA nodded, his expression one of full agreement. “I told him, boss, told him he’d been after the wrong guy.”

Of course he had, Hannibal hadn’t expected anything less than that from BA, he’d known since the second they had received Adele’s call in the van that the guilt was eating him inside out. He clapped him firmly on the shoulder, “You’re a good man, BA,” he said quietly, “but it changes nothing. This concerns all of us now, he’d take any of us down if he had the chance. We aren’t going to let him.”

“No,” BA agreed, “we aint.” He glanced over his shoulder into the corner where Murdock was sat on the edge of one of the cots, his voice low as he held a one sided conversation with Face. “How’s Face?” he asked, kind of wary of hearing the answer, kind of disappointed the kid hadn’t been already been awake when he got back with Murdock.

Hannibal followed his gaze and BA looked back at the boss to see the barely contained despair in his eyes. “I don’t know, big guy,” he breathed, “I don't know what the hell I’m treating with him, there’s so much, and he hasn’t stirred, not once, not a damn flicker.” He shook his head. “I’m outta my depth here,” he admitted, “he’s been shot, drugged, poisoned, beaten to all hell... I’m not a doctor here.”

BA ran a hand through his Mohawk, knowing what else he could see in Hannibal’s face, knowing the decision he was making. “I bet Face has done one o’ those emergency pack things for himself, you know,” he said quietly, wary of tipping Hannibal’s hand too early.

“He has,” Hannibal confirmed, “but it’s back at the house.”

“I can be there an’ back in an hour...” BA offered carefully and Hannibal frowned.

“I know, it’s just...” he shook his head, “No, I’d rather we all stayed together right now.”

BA glanced back at their team mates over in the corner and knew that they were both relying so heavily on him and Hannibal. “Bossman,” he said quietly, “what happens if he takes a turn for the worse an’ we don’t have a choice? We gonna drop him off without a back story? Let them finger print him an’ chain him to the bed?” Hannibal scrubbed his face with both of his big palms and BA could feel the indecision coming off him in waves. “We take him to hospital without that cover, an’ we may as well drop him off at Leavenworth ourselves, we won’t be gettin’ him back.”

“I know that,” Hannibal ground out from behind his hands.

“So I need to go get that stuff for him!”

“But Pike,” Hannibal said, lifting his head, eyes beseeching his corporal, “he could be waiting there for you.”

“I’d like to see him try,” BA muttered. “He comes at me or any of us again an’ I won't be leavin’ until I know he aint gonna get back up again.” Hannibal just stared at him. “Plus we need our gear, one of the laptops is there right? An’ all our stuff? I can have it all in the van in twenty minutes.”

Hannibal sighed and BA watched as he dropped his hands and let his eyes drift to Murdock and Face who were still in the corner. “You’ve got ninety minutes to get back here,” he said eventually. “And then I’ll have to come looking for you, leaving these two here alone.”

“I know,” BA answered softly. “Don't worry, Hannibal, I’ll get it done.”

But Hannibal was worried, he hated splitting his team like this, especially with Face and Murdock both so vulnerable right now. “Okay,” he breathed and BA knew it was against his better judgement. “Take care of yourself, Bosco.”

BA nodded and went straight for the van as Hannibal opened the doors on the dark night to let him out.

Next

Current Mood: good
Current Music: Mumford and Sons - 'Little Lion Man'

The longest ten minutes of Adele’s life were spent tied to that girder, wondering if Danny were alive or dead, wondering how long it would be before she herself died, and then, just at the point when the tears were running dry, there was an almighty crash and Eddie’s rental came smashing through the double doors of the garage. Adele screamed, and that brought two sets of eyes immediately her way and over the ringing in her ears and the constant droning of the engine, she heard the most wonderful sound in the world, John’s voice shouting out instructions, sorting everything out and her heart soared, John had come for her.

“John!” she called to him, feeling the sobs threatening in the back of her throat again as he made his way towards her. “Thank god you found us, I’ve been so, so frightened! I-”

She stopped dead as he jogged past her without even a glance in her direction and immediately dropped to his knees next to Face, fingers checking for a pulse, quick blue eyes assessing all the damage to his boy and obviously not liking what he saw.

“John...” Adele started reproachfully and then Hannibal’s eyes were on her, so hard, so cold that her mouth snapped shut all on its own.

“Don’t speak to me,” he hissed, venom in every word. “I swear to god, Adele, you speak to me again, I will...” he shook his head, swallowing the threat he wanted to make. “Just shut up – you got that?”

She stared at him, her eyes swimming in tears, her chin quivering as he turned away from her and devoted all of his attention to Face. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said into the silence as BA finally managed to cut the Sunfire’s engine. “Face, can you hear me? Are you in there? Come on, wake up a bit here baby.”

Face didn’t move or stir, so Hannibal took out his knife and started gently cutting the ropes that held him as Adele watched, open mouthed. “Is he...?” she whispered around the lump in her throat.

“He’s alive,” Hannibal snapped at her, “Despite your best efforts to the contrary. How long has he been out?”

“I don’t know,” Adele admitted as she felt herself flush, “I wasn’t watching.”

Hannibal glanced up long enough to give her a ‘you are the lowest life form imaginable’ look before turning back to carefully pull the last bit of ropes off Face’s ankles and then rearrange his limp body into the recovery position. Once that was done, he set about doing a thorough assessment of Face’s injuries, frowning most at the deep trough cut through his bicep by Silas’ bullet. And the entire time he was checking him over, he was talking, a soft, low monotone, perfectly audible to Adele in the quiet of the garage and enough to have her staring in total shock.

“I’m just gonna wrap your arm up here, sweetheart,” Hannibal told a still unresponsive Face. “Losing a bit too much blood there for my liking, we need to keep that all inside, right? Okay then, this might sting a bit for a few seconds,” he ran an anti-septic wipe all around the wound, inside and out, before covering it with a piece of gauze. “Done, hope that wasn’t too bad, you know I hate hurting you, I always hate doing this, can’t stand to see you hurting, I love you far, far too much for that...” and on it went while Adele just listened and stared.

Eventually Hannibal was as satisfied as he could be and Adele watched, transfixed, as he slowly manoeuvred Face into a position where he could lift him, taking care to cradle his head against his own shoulder and rise slowly, to minimise causing any further damage to his patient. As he finally straightened to his full height, Face’s not inconsiderable weight held securely against his chest, his eyes caught Adele’s and he couldn’t miss the way she was staring at him, her eyes wide, the look of disbelief on her face and bare envy in her eyes. For a second, Hannibal just returned that stare, his chin tilted proudly, and then, with their eyes still locked he bent and pressed a fierce kiss onto Face’s temple, right above the bruising from Silas’ gun butt.

“He’s mine,” Hannibal told her, his voice coming out as a possessive growl from deep in his chest. “I love him so much; I should kill you for what you have done to him.” Adele paled, and given her already stark complexion, that was a feat in itself. “Suffice it to say, I won’t let you hurt him again. You’d do well to remember that, Adele.”

Adele opened her mouth to speak and Hannibal just walked away from her, leaving her watching him go with her mouth literally hanging open.

“BA!” Hannibal said as he and Face got closer to the wreckage that used to be the doors. “Send Eddie in for Adele, we’re getting out of here.”

Looking down to check on Face, he heard BA’s gruff instruction but didn’t look up as Eddie scuttled in past him, he was too busy tracing the lines of his love’s face with his eyes, tracking every mark and blemish and vowing silent revenge. He could hear Adele crying behind him and Eddie’s fast tones as they tried to soothe her, but Hannibal got the distinct impression she was just frustrating his attempts to free her.

He smiled grimly and looked up as BA approached him, his own stark expression soon wiping any trace of that smile from Hannibal’s face. “What?” he asked sharply, knowing his corporal so well after all their years.

BA shook his head. “I dunno, man, I aint happy about this at all.”

Frowning, Hannibal shifted Face’s weight in his arms. “What is there to be happy about?” he asked darkly.

Letting his eyes flick down to his injured team mate, BA’s eyes darkened in concern and it was an indication of his worries that he didn’t ask Hannibal for an update into Face’s condition. “That Eddie,” he said instead, “he reckons he put the tracker on Pike’s car.” He nodded at the Sunfire, “And that aint Pike’s car...”

The simple statement put fear into Hannibal’s heart. So, if the tracker was in the car, and the tracker led them here, then that meant that Pike was here as well. “Any idea where?” Hannibal asked urgently, knowing that the corporal would have followed his train of thought effortlessly.

Again, BA shook his head. “Could be anywhere,” he said quietly, “loads of good vantage points.”

Taking a deep breath, Hannibal looked over his shoulder to where Eddie was leading a limping Adele towards them. “Right, change of plans big guy,” he said, they had intended Eddie taking the rental and them all going their separate ways at this point, hopefully never to meet up again; but they couldn’t take the risk of Pike picking Eddie and Adele off like that, no matter how tempted Hannibal might be. “We all go in the van, you provide cover for us, okay?”

Nodding, BA went to the entrance of the garage and looked out into the bright sunshine as Hannibal explained the change of plan to a Eddie, and in a moment they were all ready, Hannibal nodded and burst into the bright sunshine, Eddie and Adele right behind him as they made for the safety of the van, a mere five metres away.

No-one, however, was prepared for the ferocity of the attack that greeted them. Hannibal put on a burst of speed, not even feeling the weight of Face in his arms as automatic gunfire suddenly seemed like it exploded from all around them, tearing up the concrete at their feet. He heard BA’s answering gunfire and hoped that he’d got the bastard back, but then had no choice but to skid around the corner out of sight as the bullets came so close to him that he could feel their wind on his arms. He laid Face as gently as he could in the lee of the building and then pulled out his own gun and turned to offer BA some support.

Pike, Eddie and Adele were nowhere to be seen, but Hannibal could see BA, hunkered down in the doorway still, gun ready and eyes flashing to each of the surrounding warehouses as he made sure their attacker didn’t change position. Hannibal clicked his fingers and BA looked over at him, a quick, gestured conversation later and he knew exactly where Pike was laid up, where Eddie and Adele had gone to ground, how much ammo BA had on him and the most likely weapon that the bastard was using. Hannibal sat back against the wall for thirty seconds of thought, his free hand resting on Face’s chest, feeling that comforting rise and fall that told his boy was still with him, was still getting out of this with Hannibal, and then he had his plan, and in thirty more seconds of gestures, so did BA.

_______________________________

Silas waited, still and deadly in the covered doorway of a warehouse over to the left of Smith’s position and wondered what the hell the old guy was doing. He was pissed that he’d missed his chance to scythe them all down, but they had caught him out with their hasty exit. He should known, that Smith had rumbled him, but there had been no indication at all until they tried to run for it; that big oaf Baracus and fat Eddie had been wandering aimlessly around out in the sunshine as Smith, no doubt tried to calm Adele down and stop Peck bleeding out all over the floor. Silas smiled. Well, he had them trapped, there was no way they could get to that pimped up van without running straight through Silas’ sights, and <i>then</i> he’d cut them all down.

Not Peck though, he smiled to himself as he felt the tender pull of the knife wound to his stomach, thankfully much more superficial than he had first thought. No, it would be fun to go back to plan one with that one, once the others were out of the way, of course. And then he might go over to the hospital and get rid of the crazy pilot as well. He’d love to be known as the guy who single handedly took down the A-Team, he might even video his time with Peck, then he could use at as an advert of sorts in his new career as hit man.

Abruptly, a car engine roared into life and he leaned forward, fully attentive now and totally confused. He’d taken care to shoot out the tyres of the rental that Charing had been using, and was certain that no one had made it to the safety of the van, but then he cursed aloud as the Sunfire came flying out of the garage and made a defiant break for the road in the distance.

He quickly scrambled out of his hiding place and dashed out into the open, squinting through his sights at the car that had already passed him and was screaming its way to safety. His squeezed his trigger, letting out a steady stream of bullets after his quarry, and then quickly jerked to the side, trying to get a better bead on the driver.

That quick little jink sideways, trivial as it may have seemed to Pike, actually ended up saving his life. The bullet fired with utmost care and concentration from Hannibal’s gun would have hit him firmly in the small of the back otherwise and it would have been game over, this way, it only clipped his hip, sending him spinning to the ground in agony, knowing damn well they had out smarted him.

But Silas was nothing if not thorough. He had made sure that he had a backup plan in place for a situation just like this. Rolling on his back he fired off a few quick rounds in Smith’s direction, doubting he would be lucky enough to actually hit him, and then hauled himself to his feet and staggered back into his warehouse. Thirty seconds later he was in his Cadillac, turning the engine over, and less than three minutes after Hannibal’s bullet had brought him down he was driving off the industrial park and out towards the freeway.

__________________________

BA watched Pike make a run for it and for a brief moment considered following him, but then he thought of Face and turned the Sunfire around instead, arriving back at the warehouse in seconds. He got there to find the van already open, Face stretched out immobile and bleeding onto the clean carpet, but no sign of anyone else.

“Hannibal?” he shouted, fear prickling at the back of his neck once more as he looked nervously around.

“Here!” came the reply over to his left and in Hannibal’s unmistakeable tones. Keeping his gun ready, BA jogged around the skip at the side of the garage entrance and his eyes widened at the carnage he found. Eddie was sitting up against the skip, his eyes wide, blood all over his hands and his suit, staring stupidly at Hannibal who was frantically pushing a medical dressing onto the back of Adele’s head.

“Oh, man...” BA moaned as he dropped down next to Hannibal and immediately took over the pressure on the pad.

“Thanks,” Hannibal muttered, and then turned back to Eddie, wiping the blood from his hands onto another clean dressing. “Right, Eddie, listen to me!” he snapped, and Eddie’s shock filled eyes flicked from Adele back to Hannibal. “I’ve called 911, they’ll be here within minutes,” BA looked up, concern in his dark eyes at those words. “But we have to go, do you understand that? We can’t stay and wait for them.”

Eddie frowned and his eyes flicked about, “Danny?” he asked, the shock making his words slow and deliberate, “What about Danny?”

“He’s coming with us,” Hannibal said firmly. “We look after our own.” Eddie nodded dumbly and Hannibal grabbed at his wrist. “Okay, give me your hand then, you need to hold this here and press, hard, you got that?” Another nod. “Okay.”

BA waited until Eddie had shuffled forward and was firmly pressing on the wound at the base of Adele’s head before he took his hand away. He turned to Hannibal and they shared a dark look, both knowing how bleak the situation looked for her. BA sighed, “I’m gonna start the van,” he said, rising to his feet and wanting to get far away before the ambulance turned up.

“No,” Hannibal suddenly blurted, spinning away from Eddie and flashing his concerned eyes up at his corporal. “Take the Sunfire and go get Murdock. Sign him the hell out of there and meet us at RV Bravo.”

Eyes narrowed, BA looked at him, “You think... <i>Pike?</i>” he breathed his voice thrumming with anxiety.

Hannibal nodded. “Could be. Bastard’s crazy enough to do it and it would still get him his revenge on Face.”

Without another word, BA turned and ran, seconds later, Hannibal heard the Sunfire start up and roar away. He turned back to Eddie. “I need to go, now, right?” Again Eddie just nodded but he was doing what he’d been asked and keeping up the pressure. Hannibal reached into Eddie’s suit pocket and fished out the PI’s phone, flipping it open and scrolling through the contacts before he found his own number. “Tell them you were the victims of a random shooting, you didn’t see anything and don’t mention us at all - not even Face. You got that?” Another nod. Hannibal called himself, and as soon as the cell connected he rang off, knowing that he would ditch the phone but keep Eddie’s number. He shoved the phone back into Eddie’s pocket and rose to his feet, Eddie’s eyes following him all the way.

“I’ll call you,” Hannibal told him, “see how she is.”

“Thank you,” Eddie whispered, his eyes full of tears, “I don’t want her to die.”

Hannibal sighed, “She doesn’t deserve you,” he said sadly, “she doesn’t deserve either of you.” And with that he turned and ran for the van.

Next

Current Mood: mellow
Current Music: Furniture - 'She Gets Out the Scrapbook'

Silas didn’t drive for long. Within ten minutes, he had stopped the car and popped the boot, making a point of dragging Face out as roughly as possible, while Face made a point of making no sound of pain at all. Even so, once he was dropped on his stomach on the ground in a dark, dank oil smelling garage, he had to take a minute to close his eyes, breathe long and deep and try to get the pain and the fear back under control.

Then Silas was back, and Face forced himself to watch while a silently terrified Adele was dragged in and tied to a metal girder, so she was now standing upright, just in front of Face. Silas was silent until he had finished his job of securing his prisoners and then he dropped down on his haunches, grabbing Face’s chin and yanking it up so they were eye to eye.

“Well then, Peck,” he said coldly, “this is goodbye.” Face just looked at him. “You know I’d have loved to kill you myself, slowly and very, very painfully. But I just can’t run the risk of Smith catching up with me,” he shook his head sadly. “No, that’s not in my plans for the day at all. So I’m just going to leave you here, with your mother for company, which, believe me, is punishment enough for anyone, and I’m just gonna leave this old car running.” He watched Face’s impassive expression carefully. “You know carbon monoxide poisoning isn’t such a bad way to go,” he said softly. “This has really worked in your favour, I’d have had you screaming and begging before the end if I’d had my chance.” Face bit back the retort he would have loved to make and instead just returned Silas’ stare.

“Ah, well,” Silas said, dropping Face’s chin and getting to his feet. “I suppose I had better get going. As much as I doubt that Smith will find you now I’ve switched venues, I’d really rather not take that chance, and so I feel I have to leave.” He looked down at Face again, and then with a hard swift kick to the bullet wound in his arm turned and left.

_____________________________

The pain was so intense that Face found himself swimming towards unconsciousness once more, but knowing that the engine of the car was spewing poisonous fumes towards him, he fought hard, worried that if he let himself go under now, he may never wake up again. He forced his head up off the floor, ignoring Adele who was calling his name repeatedly, and checked out their surroundings. Basically, they were in deep shit. The garage was sealed and there were no windows. It was also a fairly large building which made Face think that they were still in the business district, far fewer nosey neighbours to wonder why a car engine would be running for so long and then he turned to the car itself and his heart sank further.

Modern cars, with their catalytic convertors and carefully controlled combustion produced such a small amount of carbon monoxide that poisoning to the extreme of death would be a very rare occurrence indeed. Either Silas knew this fact, or the gods of fate were frowning at him, but from where he was laid he could see that this car was a Pontiac Sunfire, almost twenty years old he guessed; a perfect car to gas them both to death with. He glanced down at his blood smeared arm, the bullet having gone straight through, carving a heavily bleeding trough in his flesh as it did so, and knew he’d actually be lucky to be alive long enough to die of carbon monoxide poisoning.

“Danny!” Adele was still calling him and he eventually lifted his head in her direction, his levels of irritation with her just about as high as they could go.

“What?” he snapped, “What the fuck have you got to say to me that you think I would be in the slightest bit interested in hearing?”

She faltered into silence, seeming to be surprised by the venom in his voice, before finally coming out with, “I came back to help you...” as if that would make everything else disappear.

Face sighed. “It never occurred to you that I wouldn’t have been in that mess in the first place if it wasn’t for you?”

“I didn’t know he wanted to hurt you!” Adele shot back instantly.

“No, just rob me, that’s much better.” He let out a low mirthless chuckle, “And if you did know what he wanted, would you have stopped him? I doubt it. Not the first time that’s happened, eh? Mother...”

Adele slid into silence, that most unwelcome feeling of guilt starting up once again.

Face lay still and tried to ignore her and the various pains in his body as he wracked his brains for a way out of his predicament.

“So, what’s the plan?” Adele eventually asked him and he gritted his teeth, he’d hoped he’d shut her up for good before.

“Plan?” he snapped back.

“Yes, plan!” Adele had recovered enough to find some of her own snap again. “How are you getting us out of here?”

Face sighed and let his forehead rest on the cold concrete floor before speaking, very slowly and clearly to ensure she understood. “Adele. I’ve been drugged, whipped, beaten, knocked out, shot and hung from my wrists for hours. I’ve got broken ribs, a busted ankle, an eye that can’t see and I’m bleeding all over the floor. On top of that, I’ve been tied up in a way that means I’ll choke myself if I try to move. I hate to burst your bubble, but I won’t be getting you out of anything today.”

There was a minute of silence and Face hoped that meant that she wasn’t going to speak at all, but then his optimism was cruelly dashed. “But... we’ll die...” she whispered, “the fumes!” and somehow that was worse than her belligerent complaints from before because now she just sounded scared, absolutely and utterly terrified, and the part of Face that needed to help people struggled up to the front of his consciousness.

“The fumes won’t get me,” he told her in a dark attempt to lighten the mood, “I’ll bleed out before then.” He glanced up and saw her stark, terrified face and sighed once more, long and hard and wondered how she could manipulate him so damn easily. “Don’t worry,” he said quietly. “Hannibal will come for us.”

Another long pause came from Adele before, “He’s not coming...”

Face lifted his head, suddenly scared, suddenly so damn terrified for Hannibal and what the hell she had done to his team this time that the pounding of his blood made his head throb harder and the blood from his arm flow faster. “What do you mean?” he asked, low and lethal and Adele found she was even more scared than before. “What have you done?”

“Nothing!” she answered, a pleading note in her voice, “I’ve done nothing! I just told him where you were and the trouble you were in and he said he wasn’t coming!”

For a second the iciness of that statement threatened to absorb Face whole as he thought of that, Hannibal, knowing he needed him and not coming, not coming to save him. Not coming to claim him. But then he forcibly injected some rationality into the situation, this was Hannibal, and Face trusted him with everything he was made of. Never once had the boss abandoned him, or any of them, when they had needed him. Hannibal would come, he would. The only thing in doubt was whether Face would still be alive when he arrived...

“He’ll come,” Face told her firmly.

“But, Danny, I told you... I called him and he said-”

“He’ll come,” Face repeated.

She sighed, “Look, I know you think he loves you but when I-”

“He’ll come!” Face roared, feeling the rope tighten on his neck a touch with the tensing of his muscles. Adele swallod her words and stared at him. “And I don’t think he loves me, I know it for an absolute fact!” He turned away from her, her very face making him feel sick. “But I wouldn’t expect you to understand at all, Adele,” he whispered, “’cause no one has ever loved you in your whole empty life.”

“That’s not true!” Adele shot back, her eyes shining in tears. “You loved me! Before-”

She stopped dead and Face let out another mirthless laugh. “Before... Yes, that kind of sums it up nicely doesn’t it? Before you sold me for a few smokes.” He shook his head, “So, your small dependent child loved you, not much of a claim to fame that one is it? It’s not like I had any other options!”

“Your father loved me!” she spat out and the silence that followed was even heavier than anything that had come before.

Face raised his head, ignoring the dizziness that the move provoked and stared at her, the blank fear on her face that told him she knew she was rumbled and didn’t have a clue how to get herself out of her mess. “My father?” he asked quietly, lethally. “You told me you were raped. You told me you didn’t know who he was.”

“I... I... the gang, I did know them a bit. I-”

“Liar!!!” Face yelled and Adele froze as even the car engine seemed to falter in the wake of his anger. “You are a damn liar! Everything you ever tell me is utter crap! You told me you were raped; you put all of that guilt and pain onto me! You let me think I was a product of violence, the offspring of your terror, but they were all lies! More fucking lies!”

He had to stop, his head was swimming, the pain behind his eyes was thumping with his pulse and the cord around his neck fastened even tighter. Tears clouded the vision of his one good eye and he closed his lids, turning his face from her and letting his cheek rest on the cold floor, suddenly so unbelievably tired of this whole game and the things she could do to him with just a few words, so tired.

“Danny?” she whispered as she watched him sag in front of her, her own heart pounding in terror.

“Why do you hate me so much?” he whispered, his eyes closed, blessed numbness starting to seep through him.

“I don’t, hate you Danny, I really don’t.” Were those tears Face could hear in her voice? He wasn’t sure, but couldn’t find the energy to open his eyes and look. “I love you,” she whispered, “I did from the very moment I saw you. You were so little and so perfect and I knew I would never to able to look after you well enough.” Face frowned, shit; she was a good actress, that was a definite sob in her voice then. “And I was young, still a child myself and so selfish, and I knew I was hurting you... and you’d be better off without me.”

“You didn’t do it for me...” Face mumbled heavily.

“No. I didn’t. I did it for me. But in the end it worked out best for you though. Right? You were happy in the orphanage, they were good to you! Better than I would have been.”

Face’s eyes stayed closed. “No one wanted to adopt me,” he whispered, almost to himself. “They always picked me out, but as soon as they discovered I was a foundling, five years old and left out like the garbage, they started to worry about why. Father David tried not to tell them at first, wanted them to get to know me, hoping they’d see past that hurdle but that never worked.” A frown pulled at his brow. “That was worse, because they’d show me things, ‘This will be your bedroom when you come to live with us,’ ‘This can be your bike when you live here’ that type of thing, but then they found out the truth about me and never came back.”

“Danny...” Adele whispered.

“I started acting up,” Face didn’t seem to know she was there anymore; it was almost like he was talking to himself. “Went into juvie at ten, shouldn’t have gone in but I lied about my age, who I was. Thought it would get me off, but instead it got me locked up. And then I figured if people were gonna do what they wanted with me anyway, then why not just let them and make some money out of it as well? But of course all the money went on drink and drugs, shit, anything to help me forget what I was doing...”

Adele couldn’t speak now for the tears streaking her cheeks.

“Father David came looking for me, found me in some Salvation Army place. I’d been beaten up, drugged and raped and he told me if I didn’t go back with him I’d be dead in three months.” A wry smile tugged at his pale lips. “He was right of course. I agreed and he got me clean, helped me get into the army, he knew I needed that structure to keep me straight.” He sighed, pushing all that away from him again, all that fear and pain and despair, everything that was his life before Hannibal. “And that’s when I met John.”

He slid into silence, calmer now, thoughts of Hannibal filling his mind, how it felt to be held by him, kissed by him, loved by him. God, he really hoped all that wasn’t finished for him, he really hoped John would find him in time.

“I’m so sorry, Danny,” Adele whispered into the silence. “For every way I hurt you and all the damage I’ve done, I truly am sorry.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Face told her simply; annoyed that she would interrupt his day dreaming like that. “I don’t love you, I don’t even like you. And after what you did to Murdock?” he shook his head, stopping as the movement tugged at the cord around his neck. “I’d go as far as saying I hate you, and I don’t hate anyone lightly.”

“But after this?” Adele asked him, the pleading tone to her voice clear, “We can try again? Start to get to know each other properly?”

“No.” Face told her flatly. “All you have ever caused me is pain. If I get out of this alive then I am celebrating by never seeing you again.”

“If?” Adele asked, and all that fear was back. “What do you mean, ‘if’? I thought you said John would come?”

“He will,” Face was struggling to get his mouth to work properly now. “I just don’t know if I’ll still be alive when he gets here...”

“Danny! Danny!” Face could hear her calling him, but couldn’t dredge up enough energy to respond or even look at her. He always knew he’d die a violent or unnatural death one day, he’d just hoped that he wouldn’t be alone when he went. Right now though, he’d give anything to be on his own. Dying with Adele had to be the worst possible scenario ever, and even worse, what if she followed him to the afterlife and bugged the hell out of him for all eternity? He shuddered.

“Danny!” he could hear she was crying and found it very hard to care. “Danny! Please don’t give up, don’t leave me here!”

He smiled an ironic little smile, thinking back to that new found memory of being left on the steps of the orphanage, pleading with her not to leave him. Seems life had come full circle for them now. She hadn’t cared when he’d begged her not to leave him all those years ago, so why the hell should he make the effort to stay with her now?

“Danny, please, stay awake!” Adele pleaded, but there was no answer. “Your father!” she called to him in desperation, “Let me tell you about your father! Stay and listen about him!”

“All lies...” Face whispered, just wanting the pain to go now.

“No! No, listen, no lies, I swear to you, Danny, listen to me!” Face ignored her letting the darkness come closer. “Please listen,” she begged, “let me tell you this, it’s the least I can give you.”

“Not interested,” Face murmured, wondering if it was the blood loss or the carbon monoxide that was making him feel so sick. He forced his fuzzy head up and looked at her. She was blurred and the light hurt his eyes, but she looked... broken somehow, all her usual front just gone. “Leave me alone,” he muttered, laying his cheek down on the ground once more, closing his eyes and wondering how long it would take him to die.

But Adele wasn’t giving up. Face could still hear her voice, but it sounded so far away that he thought he must have drifted into another room. She kept going though, and even through the constant droning of the engine, Face could hear her words even though he didn’t want to, even though he knew they would just grind him further into the dirt. Then somehow, they started to put pictures in his head, not of what she was talking about, but of himself, curled up on the bench of the trailer in his pyjamas while Adele read to him, some book that was far too advanced, way above his level of understanding, but he realised he didn’t care. All he cared about was that there was just the two of them, and she was reading to him, to him. Just for now, she was all his.

The warmth of that memory washed over him and took away all the pain and the emotional hurt. It took away the smell of the fumes and the blinding headache, and just like all those years ago, he let himself sink into her voice, not really listen to the words, just the sounds, the soothing cadence, and on that he started to drift.

“I met your father at a peace protest in San Francisco back in the summer of 1973,” her voice was softer than Face had heard it since that long ago day, and wistful, so, so, wistful. “He was called Arthur, I named you after him, and he was a student there. He’d been to Vietnam, a soldier, like you, but when he came back, he wanted to do some good, to change the world, make it a better place to live without the need for more war.”

Face felt like he was floating in a dark warm tank. Nothing hurt, he wasn’t scared anymore, he felt safe and wrapped up tight against the world.

“We fell in love,” Adele was still telling her story oblivious to her son drifting away right next to her. “He was so loving, so sweet and kind and considerate,” she smiled. “Just what I’d always wanted. But then, after we’d been together for nine months I found out I was pregnant,” she paused and Face was lucky that he couldn’t see the look on her face or even hear her words anymore. “I was devastated,” she whispered, “I went straight out to try and arrange an abortion but it was too late, I was too far along, so I did the only thing I could do and told Arthur.” She sighed. “He was thrilled. He was ten years older than me and a baby was just the icing on the cake as far as he was concerned. He proposed, I accepted and we started making wedding plans.”

For a long time she was silent, staring at the floor at her feet as she thought back to the mistakes she’d made and the different way her life might have turned out if she’d made better choices.

“But I got cold feet,” her voice had dropped into almost nothing and Face wouldn’t have been able to hear her even if he had still been awake. “So, I told him I’d miscarried, called off the wedding and moved to LA. I never saw him again.” Hot tears ran down her cheeks as she thought, for the very first time in all those years, how upset he would have been for her just to disappear like that. “He didn’t even know you were born,” she sobbed, regrets pouring out as fast as her tears, “he never got to see you and hold you and know how beautiful you are and how strong and brave and smart and good, just like him. Oh Danny, you are just like him and I never let him know, I never let you know...”

She tailed off into noisy sobs and cried until her eyes were sore and puffy and her cheeks were blotched with red, then she looked over at Face. “Danny?” she called cautiously, noticing for the first time that his legs had fallen to the side and that he was still - very, very still. “Danny!” she called again and yet again there was no answer. “Face!” she shouted at him and when he didn’t answer, when he didn’t even so much as twitch, she started to sob again, leaning back on the girder she was tied to as she prayed for her son’s life.

Next

Current Mood: content
Current Music: Furniture - 'She Gets Out the Scrapbook'

Taking a deep breath, Adele slipped her shoes off, put her phone in her pocket, grabbed the pepper spray from her bag and rammed her expensive leather handbag in the gap under a trash can to keep it safe. Then she skirted around the parking lot of Silas’ warehouse and crept up to the little door with the window in it. Rising delicately onto her bare toes, she peered in, eyes drawn straight to Face who was exactly where he had been when she had left him, arms drawn up tight above, head hanging low as he just waited for Silas to come at him again.

The man himself was eerily absent, and Adele craned her neck, covering every meter of the warehouse before thanking her lucky stars, steeling herself and slowly, slowly opening the door.

It was silent inside nothing was moving or making a sound, not even Face, and with another quick, furtive look, Adele ran silently on her bare feet right across the concrete floor until she found herself at his side.

“Danny!” she hissed, reaching up to lift his chin and then recoiling at the blood she found on her fingers. “Wake up! We have to get out of here!” Face lifted his head and opened his eyes and the expression in them tore her apart, sent her spinning right back to that day thirty three years ago, Danny hunched under the trailer looking at her with utter betrayal in his face. She looked away, up to the blood soaked rope wrapped around his wrists, too high for her to reach and tutted in frustration. “How do I get you out?” she whispered. “You’re supposed to be the expert in all of this! Think of something!”

“Go away,” Face answered simply, the pain in his body and his heart audible in every syllable. “Just fuck off and leave me the hell alone. Haven’t you done enough to me yet?”

Adele had to rein herself back in, stop her limbs from doing just what he’d said as she knew if she did, then she would be haunted by her past for the rest of her life. “Don’t be such a baby...” she muttered instead, eyes following the rope up to the roof and then down to the wall where it was wrapped around a cleat. “Do you want him to kill you?” She dashed to the wall and started unravelling the rope from the cleat.

Face closed his eyes and let his chin fall back to his chest again. Did he want to die? No, of course he didn’t, but right now he hurt so much from his body right through to his soul that he found it hard to find the will to fight any more. “Go away,” he whispered again. “If he finds you here, he’ll kill you.”

“Ahh,” Adele mocked as she tugged on the rope, “I didn't think you cared!”

“I don’t,” Face muttered, “I really, really don't. I just thought I’d let you know.” The empty tone in his voice sent shivers through Adele’s whole body and she wondered how she could have got it all so, so wrong with him. For a second she was transported back to the day he was born, no one to hold her hand through her contractions, no one to encourage her when she pushed, she’d cried all the way through her labour. And then the midwife had placed him in her arms, his eyes open and already that incredible shade of blue and suddenly everything had seemed entirely worth it. She’d stroked his face, the damp little whorls in his hair, his peachy cheeks, and then, when she’d traced his tiny curled fingers with her own, he’d grabbed on, his tight little fist gripping her finger with a force that took her breath away.

At that point the tears had come again, but this time they were tears of wonder and joy and she swore to him and herself that he was the only thing that mattered from that moment onwards, that everything she ever did would be for him, and they would face the world together, beating back all the horror that Adele knew it held.

It didn’t last of course. Within three weeks she began to realise the ways in which her life would have to change, the resentment started to creep in and that was the beginning of the end.

The rope finally coming loose shook her from her unwanted memories and Face’s weight immediately pulled it from her hands, she turned to warn him, but it was already too late, with a pained groan, he tried to take his weight and keep his balance, and failing, fell to his knees for the second time that day.

Adele ran over to where he knelt and tugged at his arm, “Come on! Get up! We need to leave.”

Face ignored her, but lifted his hands instead, “Untie me!” he hissed urgently, pain stealing his breath at the end of each word.

“Get up!” she repeated.

“For fuck’s sake, untie me!” Face hissed at her struggling to his feet as he did so, “If that bastard Pike comes back, you’ll wish you’d untied me first!”

“He’s right. You will.” Called a laconic voice from the side of the warehouse and Face and Adele both spun around to face Silas who was lounging arrogantly against the wall.

Face hauled himself upright and pushed Adele behind him, yanking his jeans back up over his hips as he squared up to Silas across the huge empty space between them, his hands now bound in front of him.

“Oh, how gallant!” Silas laughed, slowly making his way closer to them. “I’m surprised at you Peck, wanting to protect her like that. Don’t you know what she’s done to you?”

“Oh, I know alright,” Face answered coldly and Adele was shocked at the clearness in his voice, every trace of pain gone. “But I’m a Ranger, and as such I have a certain level of honour. This is between you and me. She’ll get what’s coming to her some other way.”

Silas stopped and cocked his head to one side as he looked at Face. “A Ranger?” he asked carefully, considering. “You’re not a Ranger, you’re a convict. A fugitive. There’s no honour in that, just like there was no honour when you killed my brother in cold blood.”

Face didn’t answer and Adele tried to step around him, “Well, that’s where you are wrong, Silas!” she shouted, “He didn’t even-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Face rounded on her, shoving her back with his hands, “Get out of here,” he hissed, “and call Hannibal!” He turned back to Silas. “Let her go,” he snarled, the hatred clear in his voice. “This has nothing to do with her, just untie me and then we can settle this like men.”

Silas appeared to consider this while Face could hear Adele stepping away from him towards the door. “No, I don't think so,” he eventually decided. “I already gave her the chance to walk away from this, and she quite stupidly came back. And I’d find it so much more fun just to kill you slowly and under my own terms, Peck.” He smiled, “I, unlike you, have never pretended to be something I am not. Plus, you killed Brock with your bare hands, something that will have taken quite some doing, so I’m certainly not planning on untying you at all Not until you are dead, anyway.” He started walking in.

Face felt his strength leeching out of him as the pain gnawed at his bones, but he dragged on whatever reserves he could find and made sure he stood his ground, blocking Silas’ view of Adele and hoping that she could make her escape before he noticed where she had gone; she was of no use to him here at all, but if she could just phone Hannibal...

However, Silas was no fool and Face watched his dark eyes as they flicked to a spot somewhere over Face’s left shoulder, and then, after a quick eye roll he reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a gun. “Adele,” he called, his voice sounding nothing more than slightly bored, “where are you off to? Don’t be ridiculous and get back over here or I’ll shoot you.”

Face took a step to one side, blocking Silas’ view again. “No, you won’t,” he responded calmly.

Silas turned back to him, keeping his gun pointing straight ahead, right into Face’s chest, and cocked his head to one side. “Now, why would you want to do a thing like that?” he asked, seeming genuinely confused. “After the way she’s treated you... why would you put yourself in front of her bullet?”

“Blood’s thicker than water,” Face replied evenly and wondered why he couldn’t hear Adele moving towards the door, didn’t she know a fucking distraction when she saw one?

Silas considered him carefully. “Nah,” he eventually proclaimed. “You don’t know her, you certainly don’t like her, what do you care if she’s dead?”

Face tried to keep his expression carefully blank, but knew he’d failed when Silas smiled, “I’m right, you don't care about her, you only care about what she can do for you which means... Oh!” He slapped a hand on his forehead, “How stupid am I! She’s going to call the cavalry in right? Smith and his merry band?” He leaned around Face once more. “Adele, dearest, I’m really not going to let you do that, so be a darling and get back over here or I will shoot you.”

He lifted the gun and took a warning shot, too high Face knew to be anywhere dangerous so he took his chance to move. He ran straight at Silas, hoping the unorthodox move would be enough to stall the other man’s trigger finger, but unfortunately he had forgotten about the rope still holding his wrists together. It fed through the pulley as he ran, right up until it reached the end, the end that Silas had knotted widely enough so that it wouldn’t come out. The resulting jolt was so fierce, it yanked Face backwards and he fell, his head hitting the floor with a solid thump.

It was unfortunate that his head wasn’t reeling badly enough to block out Silas’ laughter, and he lay back, letting the spinning go on and on, hating the man more than ever and hoping Adele had made it out. But then he felt the rope bite hard into his wrists again and he forced his eyes open, blinking back nausea as he realised he was being hauled up into the air once more, much higher this time, as Silas didn’t stop until Face’s feet were swinging about twenty feet off the ground.

And then the gun rang out again, three quick shots that had Face wincing, expecting to feel the red hot bullets ripping his chest apart, but Adele’s terrified scream made him realise that Silas had moved his attention onto his other captive once more.

“Adele,” Silas said, his voice sharp. “I won’t tell you again, get back over here or the next ones won't miss!”

Forcing his fuzzy mind to concentrate, Face twisted his head so that he could see Adele, right over by the door now, and cowering in obvious terror. Noticing the look on her face, he almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

Silas sighed. “Okay then,” he said gently, “let’s try this instead.” He pulled a knife out of a holster under his jacket and lifted it up until it rested lightly on the rope that held Face up in the air. “Get back over here or I cut this rope and we’ll see how big a splat Danny boy makes on the ground right?” Adele still didn't move, she was visibly shaking and looked far, far too terrified to even be able to follow what Pike was saying to her. He sighed, “Five... four... three... two... one...”

Face had jumped out of enough planes over the years to know how to land safely. However, in all his years of parachuting, he’d always had the advantage of, well, a parachute. Plus he’d never jumped with his hands tied above him before either. As it was, he hit the ground hard, feeling his ankle twist underneath him before he even felt the pain and rolling to absorb as much force as he could, jarring his shoulder hard as he did so. But now he was free again, and Silas was still around, still very much a threat, so with a super human effort, he hauled himself to his knees, eyes casting about and just in time to see Silas stalk across to the still immobile Adele and drag her by her hair, back into the middle of the room, throwing her at Face while he yanked the mobile phone out of her hand.

Grunting in pain as she fell against him, Face tried his best to ignore her as she grabbed hold of his jeans, hauling herself close to him and sobbing against his bare back. He was watching Silas, listening to his muttering as he flicked through Adele’s phone. “Chose the wrong hostage there didn't I?” he monologued. “Should have known you wouldn’t give a flying fuck about Peck...” Despite everything - that hurt, and Face hated that she was still able to wound him like this. After all she’d done, and all he’d found her capable of, why did he still let her hurt him? Silas’ yell snatched Face’s attention back and he looked up as the phone was dropped on the ground and stamped on, the anger in the expression of his captor filling Face with a feeling he’d not had in a long while – hope.

“You bitch!” Silas yelled, reaching back around Face to slap Adele hard across the head. “You already called him didn’t you? Stupid, interfering cow! I knew I should never have let you walk out of here! You called Fucking Smith! You betrayed me!” In all the chaos, with Adele trying to duck behind him and Silas trying to lean over him, Face saw his chance. As Silas went for Adele, his suit jacket fell open and there was the knife, just ripe for the taking. Face didn't need asking twice, with a move so fast he surprised even himself, Face reached up with his bound hands and grabbed the hilt, pulling it out and stabbing back in even as Silas realised what was going on and was leaning back.

Face knew he’d connected, he’d felt the tiniest bit of resistance as he’d pushed in, but the knife was sharp and it didn’t last and then the warmth on his fingers told him he’d found a good spot, but then his head exploded in pain all around his eye as something hard, probably the butt of Pike’s M4, hit him and he fell back, sprawling at Adele’s side, his blurred vision taking in the sight of Silas raising his gun once more.

“Bastard!” he muttered and Face just had time to smile at the red stain spreading across Silas’ shirt before the gun spoke, pain flared up through his arm and dark nothingness came to claim him as Adele screamed once more.

He wasn’t out for long, he came round just as Silas dropped him into the trunk of his car, and his reflexive struggling brought a tight pressure to his neck which made the panic inside him rear instinctively. But then he heard Silas laugh again and he forced himself to stop, to relax his body and the pressure eased just a little. “Well done, Peck,” Silas’ voice had grudging respect in it. “Most people keep on struggling ‘til they are dead. This not a first for you then? You been playing some kinky games lately?”

It was a first. Face hadn’t been hog tied like this before, with his wrists and ankles behind him, both attached to a noose around his neck, he didn’t suppose many people had. But he wasn’t a fool, and he’d soon worked out that struggling was not going to help him here. And anyway, Adele had called Hannibal, Hannibal knew where he was, he would come and he would get him out, of that Face had no doubt. But then Silas laughed, and the boot slammed shut and all that certainty disappeared.

Next

Current Mood: drunk
Current Music: The Banana Splits - The Tra La La Song (Don't ask...)

A/N and WARNING!: This next section contains probably the most upsetting scene I have ever written and involves the abuse of a small child. The abuse is NOT explicitly described, it is left to your imagination, however, after reading the whole section you will probably be under no doubts as to what has taken place.

If you would prefer not to read this part of the story, which is kind of important to the overall plot, I have marked it with two lines of asterixes and I would suggest skipping the marked section. I will then post a very brief and factual summary of what you have missed so you can catch up without any upset.

I realise child abuse is a very emotive subject - and rightly so! I am not condoning it in any way. Please look after yourself. If you have had experience of this matter, as many of us, unfortunately, have, and you feel that this will upset you - DON'T READ THE MARKED TEXT. Thanks - Indigo x

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Adele forced herself to stroll calmly across the parking lot only when she was around the corner and definitely out of sight of the warehouse, did she allow herself to collapse against the side of the building and try to control the shaking in her limbs. Danny was there, she’d had no idea that Silas had taken him, where the hell was John? Why wasn’t he looking out for him? How had Silas got the drop on him? But of course Adele knew the answer to that question only too well, Danny had been so upset after their meeting, after the things that she’d said to him that of course he would be an easy target.

She rubbed at her forehead to try and erase the images of him in her head, of him so helpless, of Silas hurting him like that... She felt sick, sick right down to the pit of her stomach and she hated it. Silas was a psychopath, that was for sure. It was a good job that Adele had managed to control herself back there, one sign of weakness to Danny’s predicament and Silas would have had her strung up right alongside him. That ‘what can I do for you?’ crap had been just that as well, a trap, designed to lure Adele in, have her begging for Danny’s life only to have Silas turn on her as well.

No, she had done the right thing there, there was nothing she could do for Danny, nothing at all, Silas was more than a match for her in every unpleasant way going. She’d done well to get out with her life, and now she needed to phone a taxi and get the hell away from that madman for good. Her shaking fingers brought out her phone but she closed her eyes, Danny’s brave little grunts of pain as Silas flayed his beautiful skin tortured her eyes and her mind and with a snap decision, she dialled.

It was answered on the first ring, and looking nervously over her shoulder in case she’d been followed, Adele cupped her hand around the mouth piece and spoke quickly over the furious voice at the other end. “Yes, yes, I know, John, now shut up and listen to me as Danny’s life is in danger here.”

A forty minute drive away, Hannibal and BA looked at each other as they heard Adele’s words and Hannibal immediately halted his tirade. “Go on,” he said instead.

“Someone called Silas Pike has taken Danny and is going to kill him.” She hated the way her voice was shaking.

Again, Hannibal and BA traded glances, “Pike?” BA asked and Hannibal waved him quiet.

“Where?” he barked into the phone instead and Adele was instantly there with her answer.

“A warehouse over in North Gardena, number 202 on West 134^th Street.”

“And why does this Pike want to kill Face?”

“Because he thinks he killed his brother!” Hannibal frowned at the edges of panic he could hear in Adele’s voice, “But it wasn’t even him, it was your other man, Baracus!”

“Oh, man,” BA moaned, hanging his head and Hannibal reached over and squeezed his arm.

“And how do you know all this then, Adele?”

“Because I’ve just been there!” There was a definite note of panic in her voice now and Hannibal silently complimented her on her acting skills. “And he’s got Danny hanging from a rope and he’s beating him and burning him and he’s going to damn well torture him to death!”

Hannibal’s brows pulled together at those words and BA could see his fingers were white where they gripped the phone. “So I suppose that you would like us to come charging over there right about now, and storm into that warehouse, right?”

“Yes!” Adele cried out, “Oh, yes, but hurry, John, hurry, he’s hurting him!”

Hannibal closed his eyes. “I don’t believe you,” he whispered coldly.

For a second there was nothing but a stunned silence from Adele, before she finally persuaded her mouth to work again. “What?!” she gasped, unable to pull out anything more eloquent.

“I don't believe you,” Hannibal replied. “Ever since we have met you, you have just fed us one lie after another. You’ve poisoned my Captain, had him in ICU, twisted Face backwards and forwards until he doesn’t know who he is anymore, and now you just want to make it a full set by getting Bosco and I to charge in with all these ridiculous lies about Face and then you’ll what? Shoot us? Have the military waiting to lock us up? I wouldn’t put anything past you, Adele!”

“No,” it almost sounded as if Adele was sobbing now and Hannibal frowned again. “You have to come, you have to help him, Silas is going to kill him!” Hannibal didn't reply. “John,” Adele whispered, “Danny told me you love him, that you’ve loved him since you first met him.” Still Hannibal didn’t reply, “Prove that love to me now, John!” she pleaded, “Come and save him before it’s too late!”

“And what do you care about that?”Hannibal asked coldly, “Since when have you ever cared about Face?” Silence came down the line and Hannibal frowned before looking at the phone in his hand. “Go home, Adele,” he said quietly and pressed the disconnect button, before quickly switching the phone off. He leant back in his seat and let out a long breath with his eyes closed tight. “You know where you’re going, BA?” he asked.

“Sure thing bossman,” BA replied concentrating hard as he weaved in and out of the traffic, “be there in about half an hour.”

Hannibal nodded and clapped him on the back as he moved into the rear of the van to unlock the weapons store, hoping and praying that they would get there in time to save Face.

__________________________________

Adele stared in shock at the phone in her hand, before grabbing it and redialling, swearing in frustration at the dead tone she got back. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest and she felt sick; as furious as she was with Danny after their little chat that morning, she couldn’t just leave him like that. She’d been so certain that John would come for him... Danny himself had been so certain of John’s love for him that morning that the callous reaction to her news rocked her to the core. She surprised herself when she realised that there was no savage satisfaction to the confirmation that Danny had been fooling himself for all these years, that John did only want him for the sex.

So what more could she do know? She had given Danny the opportunity to tell Silas it wasn’t him that had killed Brock Pike, but for some reason she couldn’t quite fathom, he had stayed quiet on the matter. She had tried to alert John to the trouble Danny was in, but John was too proud and suspicious to listen to her. She’d done all she could, and now she needed to do what both Danny and John had told her to do, which was get the hell out of California and try to pretend that this entire horrendous episode had never happened.

She pulled the number of a taxi firm from her address book and pressed connect, listening as it rang three times, and then, just as the operator answered, Adele pressed the red button cut them off. She slumped back against the wall of the warehouse she was hiding behind and wondered why she couldn’t just walk away. She owed Danny nothing here. He’d told her to go, told her he didn’t want to see her ever again. He hadn’t asked her for help, hadn’t even co-operated when she had tried to throw him a lifeline, she’d tried to get John to help him, what the hell else could she do?

But still she couldn’t leave. The image of Danny, and those quiet little sounds of pain he’d made when Silas whipped him were all she could see and hear. He seemed to be there at the front of her vision all the time, that indecipherable expression on his face, and so she closed her eyes tightly, not wanting him to stare at her like that.

However, once her eyes were closed it was even worse, he was there as well, that exact same emotion in his eyes, but this time from another time, another place, and another situation that Adele had, quite successfully over the years, pretended had never happened. She couldn’t hold the memory back any longer; Danny’s words at the hotel that morning had ripped it from the deep dark hole in her head where it had been hiding and now it was thrashing about in her consciousness, like a bat trapped in a room, throwing itself against the walls looking for a way out. With a whimper of submission, Adele sank to the ground and let it come.

*******************************************************************************************************************************

She opened her eyes and winced at the sunlight trying to force its way in through the cheap nylon curtains of her bedroom in the back of the trailer. Her head pounded, her throat burned, her stomach was churning and the soreness down below reminded her of her partner from the night before and his none-too-gentle approach to sex. She sighed, she was actually a little sick of waking up like this.

With great difficulty and nausea, Adele turned on her other side to look at the little nest of blankets on the carpet next to her bed. She’d long ago given up trying to make Danny sleep in the main part of the trailer on a night; if she was alone he would creep into her bed as soon as she turned in, and if she had a visitor he would curl up on the floor, silent and usually unnoticed by her ‘guest’ and even Adele herself had long stopped feeling uncomfortable that he was there while she was ‘busy’.

But this morning her bed was empty and the blanket nest was empty and she sighed, partly in relief, partly in frustration. If her bed was empty then that was good, that meant that Bryce or Bruce or whatever his name was had already left and she didn’t have to put up with another ten minutes trapped under his hulking frame as she sweated all over her, but if the floor was empty as well then that meant that Danny was up and probably out playing in the mud again. She sighed, it was almost as if he did that just to deliberately annoy her. He knew how much she hated going to the laundrette.

She lay still for another few minutes and then slowly got to her feet, the draw of a quick shot of vodka proving too hard to resist, pulled on her dressing gown and yanked the plywood door of her bedroom open. She blinked and stumbled into the main living area of the trailer, grabbing hold of the side of the kitchen counter to steady herself and keep on her feet. It was dark and gloomy in here, this end of the trailer was obviously still in the shade of the trees and all the curtains were closed which was odd, as she was sure they had been open when she and Bryce/Bruce had taken to her bed last night.

She blinked again and her eyes started adjusting, but her brain took a little longer to catch up with what they were telling her they could see. She frowned as Danny’s face came into focus, pale, eyes wide and staring at her, but upside down which was odd and something her vodka soaked brain was struggling to come to terms with. Slowly the pieces fit together and she realised that he was laid in his back on the small table opposite her, his head tipped off the edge so her could see her, his feet pointing towards the couch at the end near the window. Taking a step in, Adele opened her mouth to shout at him, ask him what the hell he thought he was doing laid on the table like that when she suddenly realised that he wasn’t alone.

Almost in slow motion, she took in the scene before her, her eyes much, much quicker than her brain which was still refusing to connect the dots and come up with an acceptable reason for what it could see.

Danny was naked, his brown legs and torso in sharp contrast to the whiteness of his thighs and stomach. Bryce was also naked, one hand on himself, stroking firmly even as he watched Adele, the other... oh god... Adele felt the nausea in her stomach increase tenfold and she took another step in, looking down at Danny’s desperate pleading face, the tears streaking his cheeks, the way his hands reached out for her and she stopped, just out of his reach, clinging onto the door to stop herself from collapsing on the spot.

“Just what do you think you are doing?” she whispered, low and hard but the tremor in her words was impossible to miss. She clung on harder as her legs started to shake. “Get the hell away from him and out of this trailer before I call the police.” She didn’t want trouble from him, she just wanted him to go, now.

But Bryce didn’t stop, he continued to move his hands in synch, Danny’s face twisting in pain with every movement and smiled at Adele. “What am I doing?” he asked, his voice low and fuelled by lust. “I’m filling your cupboards with food. I’m stocking up your vodka supply.” Adele just stared at him as he leered at her, violating her son before her as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He smiled, “And I’m making sure you have enough joints to last you the rest of the month...”

Still Adele didn’t move.

“Turn around,” he commanded in a voice used to being obeyed. “Go back to your pit and stay there until you hear me leave. And then I’ll go get your shopping.”

Adele looked down at Danny; his arms were still reaching for her, his silent tears leaving clean streaks down his grubby face, his eyes begging, imploring her not to go, not to leave him here with this man, to help him, to save him.

“Turn around,” Bryce ordered again and this time there was a threat in his voice and Adele thought of the food and the drink and the joints and the price that everyone had to pay in life, and turned around.

“Mommy!” It was the first time Danny had made a noise and she could hear him scrabbling around to try and reach her, Bryce swearing under his breath as he kept tight hold of his wriggling limbs. “No, mommy!” he cried, “Don’t go!”

Adele closed her eyes and started the slow walk back to her room, wishing she could close her ears as well. “Mommy!” there was panic in that little voice now, but Adele had reached her room.

“Be good, Danny,” she told him over her shoulder and then stepped in, closing the door behind her.

- - - - - - - - - - -

A while later, she heard the door to the trailer shut and Bryce’s car start up and drive away. She waited another ten minutes before dragging herself out of bed and staggering into the living area, eyes searching for her son. He wasn’t there, and for a horrible, sick minute she wondered if Bryce had taken him but then she noticed that the door was slightly ajar and so, pulling her dressing gown tightly closed, she stumbled out into the sunshine.

She squinted over to the tree and the water tap, but he wasn’t there and so with resignation, got down on her knees and looked into the gloom under the trailer. She saw him straight away, dressed in his usual shorts and t-shirt, and huddled into a tight ball next to a wheel. “Danny,” she called him gently, “come to Mommy.” He didn’t move, his face still pressed into his knees. “Danny,” she tried again, “I’m going to make you some breakfast. Come and show me what you want.” Still no movement. “Danny...” she made sure her voice was as sweet as it could be. “Don't do this, darling. It’s not nice to ignore mommy like this.”

And then he looked up and Adele recoiled in shock.

Gone was the way he’d always looked at her in the past, the adoration in his eyes, the desire to please, to love to and be loved. Now, instead of that, his little boy’s face wore the expression of an old man, a man who had seen too much, been betrayed in the worst possible way, and, even worse, finally saw that the betrayal was only the latest in a very long line, past and future. Adele felt a surge of guilt wash through her but quickly pushed it down, well, it was about time he learned that life was full of shit and if you wanted anything you had to pay the price. His blue eyes, dry of tears now, bored into her and she straightened up, knowing that her sweet little boy was gone for good.

“If you are not back inside in five minutes you won’t get any breakfast,” she told him sharply as she walked back inside. “There’s no point just sitting there crying like a baby.”

He didn’t come inside, not until Bryce came back with the food and the drink and the hash and dragged him out from under the trailer, and he didn’t cry, not until they were alone again that night and in a fit of guilt, Adele was helping him get ready for bed. He’d watched as she had taken his favourite cookie monster underpants off him and given him his pyjamas, going white as she’d noticed all the dark red stains inside his briefs. Without a word she’d thrown them straight into the trash and that’s when Danny had cried, begging and begging her to get them out again, and only stopping when she’d smacked him and dumped him in his bed by the table in the trailer.

*******************************************************************************************************************************

(Safe Catchup: This section takes place as a flashback to when Adele and Face lived together in the trailer.
Face usually sleeps in Adele's bed, or on her floor if she has a man with her.
One morning Adele wakes up alone and on going into the main part of the trailer finds the man she took home, Bryce, sexually abusing her son.
She is shocked, but Bryce offers her food and drink and drugs to be allowed to continue.
She lets him and walks out ignoring Face's cries for her help.
Afterwards, Face is more than aware of what she has done to him and their relationship is ruined.)
______________

After that fateful day, he’d never tried to get back into her bed, never made a nest on her floor. He’d never cried and he’d never looked at her with love in his eyes. Bryce came around twice more, not even bothering to sleep with Adele first, and then that’s when she went to Pablo. He was rich, single, overweight and had some very questionable sexual preferences. However, he had also wanted to take her to New York, had wanted to make her into a model in exchange for certain – rights. He’d also been quite happy for Danny to come along as well.

Adele had originally said no, Pablo turned her stomach and she felt that the price expected of her in exchange for his patronage was far, far too high. But now, well things were different; Danny wouldn’t do anything she asked of him, was sullen and sulky. She also couldn’t stand the way he looked at her now, the flat expression, the way that she was transported straight back to that moment on the table, his arms reaching out for her, the pleading in his eyes and she couldn’t stand it a moment longer.

Guilt was not an emotion that Adele readily embraced and so within three weeks of that morning with Bryce, she’d called Pablo, agreed to come to New York with him and told him that Danny was going to live with his father. He wasn’t of course and Adele was a little stuck as to what she would actually do with her morose son. In the end she decided to leave him somewhere obvious, somewhere the police would pick him up, but then, in looking for a place where no one would know her as she left him, she stumbled across the Orphanage on Tylery Road.

It was just after midnight and harder than she had anticipated to persuade a clearly frightened Danny to let go of her arm and wait for someone to answer the door.

“I don't want to!” he pleaded, his thin fingers gripping her arm tightly, “I don’t want you to go without me!”

“I’ve told you!” Adele hissed, worried that at any moment they would be discovered. “I have to go and I can’t take you with me! The bad man will get us!”

“I won’t let the bad man get us...” Danny promised, “Please take me!”

“No!” Adele fumed, eventually managing to get one hand off her arm only to have it reattach onto her coat.

“Why?!” Danny wailed, perilously close to tears now for the first time since Adele had thrown his first set of bloodstained pants away.

Adele knew that she was very close to missing Pablo come by to take her to the airport and so said the one thing that she knew would work, the one thing that always worked with Danny. “Why? Why can’t you come with me?” Danny nodded, his frantic eyes full of tears. “Because you aren’t a good boy,” she spat at him. “You weren’t a good boy for Bryce and you weren’t a good boy for me, so now you have to stay here.”

It worked. Danny’s hands sprang off Adele as if she was suddenly red hot and he backed away, settling himself into the corner of the open porch and sliding his bottom onto the ground. Adele sighed in relief. “Right,” she said adjusting her crumpled clothing, “wait until I have gone around the corner and then ring the bell.” Danny stared at her in silence. “And don't tell any of those people inside anything about me or the bad man will kill us both, right?” he nodded. “Promise?” Adele prompted him, her voice stern.

“Promise,” Danny whispered and Adele turned and without a backward glance disappeared into the night.

Face didn't ring the bell after she had gone and he didn’t tell any of the people in the orphanage anything about her when they found him at first light. In fact he didn’t say one single word to anyone for fifteen long months and by that time, his subconscious had done a grand job of wrapping up his whole past life with Adele and hiding it right at the back of his head. But of course, Adele, finding out that life with Pablo was every bit as awful as she’d thought it would be, knew none of that.

She had, however, carried that last image of him huddled on those steps in the dark with her for many years until she had managed to lock it away herself. The emotion on his face had haunted her and seeing it again today on the the man who was hanging at Silas’ mercy in that warehouse was what had brought all of this back to her. But now she understood what she was seeing; it was the expression of someone thoroughly betrayed and who now expected nothing more. That first day in the trailer with Bryce, Danny had begged and pleaded for her to help him and she hadn’t. After that he hadn’t even bothered asking anymore - he’d known it was useless.

And that’s what she’d seen in Face today; the pride, the resignation, the refusal to ask for help, even when he must have heard Silas offering her his freedom from pain and death, the acceptance that she wouldn’t help him, had never helped him, the futility of letting himself believe for one minute that she ever could.

She closed her eyes tightly against the rush of emotion those thoughts provoked in her. He’d asked her for help with Bryce, pleaded and begged her to save him and she’d turned away from him. The man who that scared little boy had become had decided he would never make that same mistake with her again, he would never ask for help that wasn’t going to come.

She opened her eyes and realised that this was the time when she needed to try and right that some of that wrong. Hannibal Smith may not care enough about Danny to come to his aid, but Adele owed him, she owed the little boy who had last reached out for her all those long years ago. Today was the day when she finally reached back.

Next

Current Mood: nervous
Current Music: The Killers - All The Pretty Faces

AN: Warning for some violence.

_______________________

The taxi dropped her off right outside Silas’ warehouse and Adele saw his car parked in the lot as she made her way across the loading bay to knock very loudly on the person sized door built into the huge loading doors. Within a moment, Silas’ face appeared at the window and then the door opened a crack and he looked out at her, surprise etched all over his face. “Adele,” he smiled coldly, “what a wonderful surprise.”

“I know it isn’t,” Adele bit out sharply. “I know you have tried to ditch me here.” Silas raised a thick eyebrow in a gesture of innocence. “And I want to have a few words with you about that.”

Silas glanced backwards over his shoulder for a moment, into the warehouse, and then smiled, leaning against the door frame, his arms folded. “You shouldn’t have anything to be cross with me about,” he leered at her, “Because of me you are now reconciled with your long lost son.”

“Can I come in?” Adele ground out. “It is ridiculous, having this conversation out here like this.”

“Err, no,” Silas frowned, “I’m a bit busy just now.” He rubbed his knuckled distractedly and Adele found herself wondering how they had got all marked up like that. “You were telling me about your long lost son?”

“Oh, him!” Adele spat out. “Once a loser, always a loser! And that’s one of the things I want to talk to you about!” Silas’ eyebrow went even higher. “Why I had to go through all of that crap with him, pretending I wanted to get to know him, when there wasn’t any money at the end of it!”

“You didn’t want to get to know him?” Silas asked, looking genuinely interested and Adele shook her head.

“I wish I’d never met him, I wish he was dead!” she spat, her eyes furious, thinking of the way that Danny had spoken to her back at the hotel, the things he’d said, the ascertains he’d made about himself and John...

“You do?” Silas asked, surprised.

“Yes,” Adele hissed, “I really do.”

“Just a couple more questions,” Silas said, his head on one side considering her, “How did you find me here?”

“Eddie followed you,” Adele instantly lied, somehow it always felt safer to hide behind a lie rather than tell the truth.

“And no one else knows?” Silas prompted and Adele shook her head. “You really would like to see Peck dead then?” he asked once again and Adele sighed, folding her own arms.

“I told you,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “I would!”

And then Silas smiled at her, a cold, wolf’s smile and stepped to one side, “You’d better come in then,” he said, turning his back on her and wandering slowly across the huge expanse of warehouse floor. “Close the door please,” he threw back over his shoulder, “and would you like a tea or coffee? I was just going to make one.”

Adele closed the door, and followed him in, her heels making noises that seemed to bounce over every wall and surface in the huge, empty space as she walked. “A coffee would be good,” she retorted hotly, “but some answers would be better,” and then she stopped dead in her tracks as she realised for the first time that she and Silas were not alone in the cavernous room.

Silas was off to her right, re-boiling the kettle and clinking around with cups and tea spoons while on her right, not ten metres away, was Danny. She was shocked into silence at the state he was in, his wrists bound tightly above his head, fastened to a pulley system that would obviously go higher or lower simply by pulling the rope at the other end. His face was a mass of blood and bruising and swelling, but both eyes were open, both eyes were staring at her and she stared right back. His chest was bare and bore its own collection of bruises and marks, including a good number of lashes leaking blood all down his torso. The blood ran in narrow rivers, and Adele’s eyes were drawn to the white waistband of his trunks, clearly visible above the level of his jeans which hung low over his hips, and the way the blood was soaking in, spreading through the white cotton due to the capillary effect and dropping out of sight behind the blue denim of his jeans.

“Milk and sugar?” Silas asked conversationally and Adele tore her eyes away from Face, noticing the way his bare feet were just skimming the floor as she turned her back on him and walked over to Silas’ little kitchen set up.

“Just milk,” she replied, her voice calm and steady, watching as Silas poured hot water into three cups, one with coffee granules, one with a tea bag and one empty. He handed her a white coffee and sipped at his own black tea before placing it carefully down on the counter and picking up the third cup. For the first time since they’d walked back into the warehouse, he acknowledged Face as he wandered over with the cup held in his hand.

“Thirsty, Peck?” he asked brightly, and when Face didn’t answer, he turned to Adele and smiled at her. “What do you think, you think he wants this water?”

Adele carefully sipped her coffee as her empty grey eyes flicked back over to Face. “I don't know,” she answered airily, “Depends on whether or not you think he deserves it.”

Silas’ face darkened and he took a step closer to his captive. “Oh, he deserves it alright,” he muttered, and without another pause he flicked his wrist and threw the hot water all over Face’s chest, watching with detached consideration at the way he hissed and twitched at the feel of the water on his skin. “Hmm,” Silas eventually murmured, turning away again, “No blisters. Not hot enough I think, I will have to give him his drink first next time.”

Adele was perched on a stool angled slightly away from Face and she turned to Silas as she sipped at her coffee. “So,” she began, her voice hard and cold. “I’m guessing from the fact that he is here and you are obviously enjoying making life uncomfortable for him that there never was any money and I was just a ruse to help you to draw him out?”

Silas grinned at her. “Got it in one, Adele.”

“Right...” she frowned at him, “and you don’t feel just the slightest bit guilty for having used me like that?”

Still smiling, he shook his head.

Adele sighed. “So, what’s he done then, that’s made him worth all of this trouble for you?”

This time, the smile disappeared and Silas turned his black eyes back to his captive. “He killed my brother,” he hissed, “that’s what he did. And now I’m going to kill him.”

Turning slowly on her stool, Adele faced Silas’ captive once more, her eyes drawn to the red splash marks on his torso from the water. “Is that right?” she asked in a high, imperious, voice. “Did you kill his brother?” Face looked at her, she could see strong emotion in his eyes but couldn’t quite place what it was just then. “Well?” she prompted when he didn’t answer. “You forgotten your manners?”

“Fuck you,” Face whispered and although there was a definite slur to his voice, there was no mistaking the venom behind the words.

Silas sighed, “That’s all I’ve had from him as well,” he muttered, rising to his feet. “Appalling lack of civility.” He wandered over to a table by the wall and rooted around a bit before he came back with a length of electrical cable in his hand. “You want a go?” he asked Adele, offering it out to her.

“No, thank you,” she replied, wrinkling her nose daintily, “I wouldn’t want to get blood on these pants, they’re silk.”

Silas nodded as if that were the most natural thing in the world and stepped up closer to Face, then for the next seven or eight minutes, the only sounds to be heard in the room where the swish of the cable, followed by the crack as it connected smartly with skin, coupled with nothing more than the odd pained grunt when Face just couldn’t keep it in anymore. Adele, meanwhile, sipped her coffee.

Eventually, Silas grew bored at the lack of reaction his cable was getting and threw it down, watching in fascination as it trailed thin ribbons of blood across the concrete floor. He returned to his tea and took a swig, slightly out of breath and massaging his shoulder as he perched on a stool across from Adele. “I’ll win in the end,” he told her matter of factly, “I’ll have him begging and crying before he dies.”

“I’m sure you will,” Adele replied quietly before turning to flash a quick grin up at him. “He always was such a stubborn boy.”

Silas nodded as he sipped his tea and then placed it down, regarding Adele coolly. “So,” he said eventually, “I believe we have a bit of a problem here to deal with.” Adele raised her eyes at him. “You think I have treated you unfairly and taken advantage of you for my own ends.”

“That’s right,” Adele told him, “you have.”

Rubbing at his chin, Silas regarded her thoughtfully. “Well, I hate to say it Adele, but you may have a point.”

“You know I do.”

“Well,” he folded his arms and looked her right in the eye. “I am a man of honour and I always try to right any wrongs I may commit, so, tell me, I don't have any money to give you, but is there anything I can do that will go some way to paying my debt?”

Adele considered this for a few minutes, her eyes on the discarded cable on the floor, “Well,” she said slowly, unsure on how her words would be taken. “There is one thing you could do for me.” She looked up to meet his eyes and he raised a thick brow at her. “You could stop Hannibal Smith from coming after me.”

Silas watched her evenly as he sipped his tea, “You know,” he said conversationally, “I was really expecting you to ask for the life of your boy there.” He nodded towards Face and Adele raised her own eyebrow in reply. “And I’d have done it as well, if that’s what you’d wanted.”

She smiled at him, a little girly smile that she knew most men adored. “What would be the point in that?” she asked simply, “I’ve already told you I wish he was dead. I’d much rather you kept Hannibal Smith off my back instead.”

Putting down his cup, Silas held out his hand. “Alright then,” he grinned, “we have a deal. I stop Smith for you, and then you and I are even.”

Adele reached out and shook his hand firmly, returning his smile as she did so, “Deal,” she replied. Then she put her coffee cup down and looked at her watch, “Well, I really must be going,” she told him brightly. “There seems to be no reason at all for me to stay in LA anymore, and if I hurry, I can get the early evening flight back to New York.”

“Of course,” Silas too got to his feet and nodded at her, “good flight then.”

Adele nodded back, and without a single glance at Face as he dripped blood onto the concrete floor, she turned and walked out of the warehouse.

Next

Current Mood: cold
Current Music: Olly Murs - Heart Skips a Beat (What? My kids keep playing it! It's catchy!)

BA hadn’t been driving long after dropping Face off at Adele’s hotel when his cell rang and he pulled over to answer it. Hannibal’s name on the caller i.d screen filled him with equal hope and concern and he took a deep breath before sliding it open. “Bossman.”

“Bosco. You know where Face is? He’s not answering his phone.”

“Err, yeah,” BA scrubbed a hand through his Mohawk, “he’s seein’ his mother. I jus’ dropped him off.”

“Really?” the surprise was clear in Hannibal’s voice and BA was dreading the moment when he had a full grasp of what exactly Face was planning on discussing with Adele.

“Yeah, how’s the fool?” BA cringed himself at those words but they were out before he could stop them, he just hoped that Hannibal understood their use.

“Better,” Hannibal reported. “They’ve moved him from the ICU into a room on his own. He’s still not woken up, but they are expecting he will soon.”

BA closed his eyes and muttered a quick prayer of thanks in his head. “That’s good,” he replied gruffly. “Listen man, I have some news for you, about this whole business with Murdock, some news for the hospital too.”

“Yeah?” Hannibal sounded interested. “Okay then big guy, but not over the phone, yeah? You coming over today?”

“Already on my way.”

“Good,” BA could almost imagine Hannibal looking at his watch as he answered. “See you here as soon as then, Ward Sixty, Murdock’s in room 4b, okay?”

“Okay.” BA hung up and pulled straight back out into the traffic.

_________________________________

It took twenty minutes for BA to reach the hospital, a further ten while he parked and walked all the way across to Ward Sixty and located Murdock’s room. He was still sleeping, but the deathly pale pallor of last night had gone, and there was the faintest pink flush of health to his cheeks that made BA feel so much better.

“So,” Hannibal prompted from the doorway. “Updates corporal?”

BA nodded, and with a last glance at the sleeping Murdock, followed Hannibal out of the door to stand in the corridor outside Murdock’s room. “Miguel called,” BA announced without preamble and Hannibal’s eyes narrowed.

“What did he say?”

“Salvia divinorum,” BA recounted accurately. “It makes people hallucinate and have weird turns, you know?” he nodded his head back towards Murdock’s room.

Hannibal nodded. “How did he ingest it?” he asked quietly and BA sighed.

“The elderflower cordial was laced with it...”

For a second Hannibal just frowned but then his face darkened into a quiet, controlled rage that BA had seen in his commander’s expression very, very seldom in the past. “The cordial?” he repeated quietly. “Then I was right in my suspicions, Adele was trying to harm him.”

BA nodded solemnly, “That’s what Faceman said an’ all.”

“Face knows?”

BA nodded, “He took the call from Miguel.”

“And he’s gone to see her?” the incredulous tone to Hannibal’s voice put BA on edge and he knew that there was still more to come.

“That aint all he knows, man,” he muttered.

“What?” Hannibal prompted an uncomfortable fear like feeling building up inside him.

BA sighed. “There aint nuthin’ wrong with her,” he reported quietly. “She aint dyin’ at all.”

Hannibal blinked. “We know this for a fact?”

BA nodded. “Murdock had her medical records sent over, but then he musta forgot they were there ‘cause I found ‘em under his bed when I was lookin’ for that damn cordial.”

Hannibal rubbed his hands across his face, “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “How did he take it?”

This time BA shook his head, “He’s mad as all hell, bossman, think he’s gonna go and tear her a new one alright.”

“Damn it!” Hannibal exploded. “Why did you let him go on his own like that? Why didn’t you make him wait for me?”

BA held his ground and held Hannibal’s stare. “’Cause he aint a child, Hannibal! I keep tellin’ you that! You can’t keep on tellin’ him how to live his life!”

Hannibal looked at his watch. “Okay, we’ll have to leave Murdock here on his own for a while. I’ll go and speak to a doctor, tell them about the cordial, and you go get the van, pull it round to the front and wait for me there.”

“Will do,” BA answered, pulling away from the wall. “Where we goin’?”

“To see Adele ourselves,” Hannibal said darkly. “There’s one of two things I’d like to say to that woman myself...”

Eyes narrowed in agreement, BA turned and headed off to get the van.

___________________________

BA pulled the van into the alley at the side of the hotel just as a plain black sedan pulled out going the other way.

“Wait here,” Hannibal ordered him. “I want to be able to get away fast if we need to.”

BA nodded, even though he’d really been looking forward to seeing Adele for himself. Hannibal was right though, plus if Face was in a state, then Hannibal would deal with him much better without BA around...

Hannibal walked in and went straight to the bar, looking around for some sign of Face in the mostly empty room. When there was nothing, he tried the restaurant, and then the pool bar before calling Adele’s room and finally her mobile. With no luck, he then called Face and frowned as his phone went straight to voicemail as well, and with that feeling of dread building with every second he approached the desk.

It took him almost five minutes and a great deal of convincing stories, before the woman on the desk eventually told him that Adele had checked out that very morning. They didn’t have a forwarding address, and even if they had, they certainly wouldn’t have shared it with Hannibal. No one at the desk remembered seeing Face there, but she suggested he go and check with the bar man, which he did at once. The barman was much more helpful. Yes, Face had been there with his mother, but he’d left, about thirty minutes earlier, on his own; Adele following soon after him. Hannibal thanked him and then stalked out, his mind in turmoil as he went to meet with BA.

______________________________

The red lights on the bedside clock had just flicked onto one pm when there was a light knock on Adele Armando’s hotel room door. She crept silently to the peep hole and peered through, sighing with relief as she noticed the receptionist, Leah, from downstairs, she pulled the door open and composed her face into one of fear and worry. “Yes, Leah?” she asked tremulously.

“It’s alright, Mrs. Armando,” the Leah soothed. “Your ex-husband did come looking for you as you worried, but I threw him off the trail, told him you’d checked out this morning and that I didn’t know where you had gone.”

“Oh, thank you!” Adele breathed dramatically. “You have quite possibly saved my life there, my dear; he is such a nasty, violent man...”

Leah frowned, “Maybe you should go to the police about him then? If he’s as dangerous as you say...”

“I will,” Adele reassured her, “just as soon as I make sure he won't be able to find me again if I do.”

The look on Leah’s face was one of pure, unadulterated sympathy and Adele reached into her pocket, pulling a note out and pressing it into her hand. “Thank you again,” she gushed, “I am so grateful to you.”

Leah left, and Adele leaned against the wall, wondering what to do now that she had thrown Hannibal of her trail for now. She wasn’t at all stupid though, she knew damn well that he would catch up with her at some point in the future, the question was, where should she let that happen, and more importantly, when?

Her phone suddenly rang, making her jump with its shrill tone and she sighed at her nervousness, snatching it up and seeing the name displayed before rolling her eyes and answering.

“Yes, Eddie,” she snapped, “what is it? You better have a really good reason for calling me as I haven’t had the best of days at all...”

Abruptly her legs dropped out from under her and she sat on the dressing table stool with a thump. “What????” she almost screeched at poor hapless Eddie, “No, you better tell me that again, and this time make it something I actually want to hear...” Adele’s hands were shaking that much that she put the phone down on the table top and flicked it onto speaker.

Eddie’s voice, a little tinny perhaps, came out loud and clear. “This money that we have been chasing, Adele, the A-Team don’t have it, they’ve never had it, it doesn’t even exist any more.”

Adele massaged her temples and stared murderously at the phone. “How do you work that out then, Einstein?” she snapped at him.

A sigh came over the phone and Adele could almost imagine Eddie, sweat stains spreading across his shirt, wiping his shiny brow with an already wet handkerchief... he really was the most incredibly gross person she had ever met. “So, back in Baghdad, the A-Team apprehended a container which held the printing plates and billions of dollars in fake U.S. dollars.”

“Billions?!” Adele breathed, thinking perhaps this story wasn’t going to end as badly as she had first feared.

“Yes,” Eddie answered cautiously. “But then, after the plates were removed, effectively framing Smith and his men, the container was blown up and all the money destroyed.”

For a second Adele couldn’t speak, and then she croaked out, “All of it?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed. “That which wasn’t destroyed in the container was collected up and burned as the A-Team were taken into custody. None of the money was reported missing. Smith and his men were never accused by anyone of taking it. None of that money ever left the FOB.”

Again Adele was stunned into silence. “None of it?” she eventually whispered foolishly.

“None of it,” Eddie confirmed.

“But... but how do you know this?” she stammered at him, “Silas’ brother told him –”

“I know it because I have my own army contacts,” Eddie interrupted her, “and Silas’ brother was the one who set the A-Team up in the first place!”

Adele remembered Danny’s words to her about the Pike he knew, ‘he’s the whole damn reason we’re in the mess we are in.’ he’d said. Silas’ brother. Of course. “We need to tell Silas,” she whispered slowly, “that’s there’s no money.”

For a second there was nothing from Eddie’s end and then he laughed, a dry, tired laugh. “Adele, dearest,” he chuckled, “please don’t tell me you are that naive!”

Bristling, Adele went back to glaring at the phone. “What? You think that Silas knows there’s no money? How ridiculous!” She scoffed. “Why on earth would he go to all this effort if he knew?”

When Eddie came back on the phone there was no humour in his voice. “Eddie’s brother, Brock, was at the LA docks when Smith and his men brought the plates back to the USA,” he explained patiently. “According to my sources, when the whole thing went to shit, Brock went after one of Smith’s team, hunting him down through the wreckage and cornering him, intending to kill him. However, it was Brock who ended up dead, his neck snapped clean in two.” He paused, enjoying the stunned silence from Adele. “Which one of Smith’s men do you think he went after then, Adele?”

There was another loaded pause before Adele almost breathed, “Danny...” down the phone.

“That’s right, Templeton Peck, and the rumours that I’ve heard are that Brock’s little brother has been asking around, trying to trace Peck for two years, wanting to get even with him for killing his brother.”

Adele held her head in her hands and stared at the phone beneath her, she just couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Danny killed someone?” she eventually whispered and this time it was Eddie who was stunned into silence.

“Killed someone?” he repeated, “Adele, he was in the army for almost twenty years! What did you think he was doing in all that time? Macramé?”

“No need to be snappy with me Eddie!” Adele snipped back, her pride well and truly dented at this point.

“Anyway,” again, Adele could imagine him shaking his shiny red head at her. “That doesn’t even matter as it seems that it wasn’t Peck who killed Brock, it was Baracus, coming to Peck’s aid.”

Adele rubbed her eyes, “How do you know any of this, Eddie?” she asked again, suspicion in her voice.

“Because I, unlike Silas it seems, have actually spoken to people who were there when these things happened, I spoke to some of the guards who were watching over Smith and his men at the docks, who heard Peck thanking Baracus for saving his life like that.”

Adele took a moment to process all that Eddie had told her, before she let out a long sigh and ran her fingers through her hair to her scalp. “I don’t believe this,” she told him, anger and shock audible in every word. “I cannot believe that Silas would just use me like that! As a tool for getting to Danny! Tricking me into doing his dirty work for him like that,” she really was appalled. “Where the hell does he get off playing with people’s emotions like that?”

It was fortunate for Eddie that he wasn’t in the room with Adele at this time as she would not have appreciated the incredulous look that spread over his face at her words.

“I think that Mr. Pike and I need to have a few words...” an oblivious Adele whispered lethally. “Do you have a number for him, Eddie?”

“You know I do,” Eddie sighed, “but it’s no good, it doesn’t even ring when you call it anymore.”

“Damn!” Adele slammed her fist onto the table making her phone jump. “So we just have to let him sneak back off into the sunset then do we?” she seethed.

“Well,” Eddie tried to not sound too smug, “we would have had to do that,” he said quietly, “if I hadn’t put a bug on his car...”

“Oh, Eddie!” Adele visibly brightened, sitting up straighter on her stool, “I could kiss you!” she was, of course, only saying that as she knew that Eddie was safely across the other side of town, but she knew he’d like to hear it anyway. “So, where is he then?”

There was a pause. “Adele,” Eddie’s voice was quiet. “Silas is a dangerous man, you can’t just go dashing off to see him on your own.”

“Yes, yes, I know that!” Adele muttered, “And that’s why you are coming with me, right?” she knew Eddie could never refuse.

“Yes,” he said at once and she felt that warm glow of smugness filter through her.

“Okay then, so tell me where he is and then come and pick me up!”

Eddie paused, “But, why would you need to know if I am coming over to get you? I’ll tell you then.”

“Tell me now,” Adele simpered in her little girly voice, “and then I can plan better what I intend to say to him if I can imagine where he is.”

“Adele...”

“Eddie, darling, please...” she whined.

And of course Eddie caved in. “Okay! He’s parked outside a warehouse, number 202 on West 134^th Street, North Gardena. Alright?”

“Thank you, darling.”

“And you will wait for me?”

“Of course I will Eddie, come over as soon as you can.”

Eddie agreed and rang off and Adele snapped her phone shut, slipping it into her bag as she grabbed her keys and headed for the door.

Next

Current Mood: nostalgic
Current Music: Hard-Fi - Living for the Weekend

The drive to Adele’s hotel gave Face the time he needed to calm down just enough to pull together a rudimentary plan in his head. His initial thought of going straight to her room, kicking the door down and yelling at her until she gave him some answers was replaced by something with just slightly more elegance.

He smiled at the concierge as he arrived, sliding a few notes across the counter and wishing he’d thought to change out of his jeans and Hannibal’s sweatshirt. The concierge was putty in his hands, agreeing to pass his message along and Face wandered into the almost empty bar to wait, choosing a secluded table at the back of the room and ordering a club soda.

The twenty minute wait was hell on his nerves however, and by the time Adele drifted into the bar, her face a mask of anguished concern, Face had already caved in and asked for a shot of vodka in his soda.

“Darling,” she gushed, sliding into the booth opposite him and taking his hand in hers, “I got your message, whatever is the matter?”

Face had to physically stop himself from yanking his hand away from that cold, firm grip, and instead slid seamlessly into his prepared speech. “Mother,” he spoke quietly, holding her eyes with his best intense stare, “I need to know if you are serious about wanting me to come to New York with you.”

Adele’s eyes widened in fake shock, “Oh, course I am darling, why wouldn’t I be?”

Taking a deep breath, Face pushed on. “Well, we need to leave today then, right now. I’ve got a car, are you ready to go?”

The look on Adele’s face was priceless and Face had to work hard to make sure he didn’t laugh. He was sure it took a fair bit to pull the carpet out from underneath her, and he hoped it wouldn’t be the first time in this conversation that he managed to do it, but he needed answers, answers he knew damn well she would never give if he just asked. “I... well... yes, dear... but... now?”

Face pulled a look of anguish onto his face, thinking of Murdock lying pale and still in that hospital bed made it pretty easy, and drew out his next move. “Yes. I spoke to Hannibal and he won’t let me go with you, so I’ve snuck away from them. Once they find out I’ve gone, they’ll come after me which is why we need to leave now.”

For a second Adele was clearly lost for words, but then she got her head back into the game, “He won’t let you go?” She frowned, “Why would he stop you?”

Shrugging, Face took a swig of his drink, “Because he needs me for a job we’re doing. He’s my boss; he gets to say when I can get time off, just like any boss.”

“But,” Adele’s eyes were wide. “I’m dying. Didn’t you tell him that?”

Again Face shrugged, enjoying twisting this particular knife, “He says he’s not bothered and I shouldn’t be either. He says I’ve hardly known you five minutes, why should I care if you die?”

Adele’s face was a picture, and Face wondered if her ‘dying’ routine had been so convincing that she had even started to persuade herself it was true. But then the con-woman in her surfaced once more and moved onto the real objection she had to Face’s change of plan. “But, Danny, how can you just leave now, like this? Don’t you need to get your things?”

“I don't need any,” Face replied quickly. “I travel very light.”

Pausing, Adele let her mind whirl around the problem here; Danny in New York without any money was no use to anyone. “What about money?” she asked him carefully, “Do you have enough to see you through all your time without work?”

Face let his eyes widen and even fill with tears as he leaned towards her. “I don’t have any,” he whispered sadly, somehow feeling they were getting to the crux of the matter here, “I thought I could just stay with you in New York?”

And then he knew he’d got her. He watched as she flinched and almost pulled her hand away from him before thinking better of it and leaning in once again. “Danny,” she whispered, stroking his wrist in a way that sent shivers running up and down his spine, “I know about the money from Baghdad, you don’t have to hide that from me.”

So there it was, she thought he was rich; somehow hiding away a stash of those billions of dollars that had gone up in flames the night that Pike and Morrison had set them up, and even though it had been expected, that realisation was like an icy cold stake right through his heart and he struggled to hold back the tears. “That money?” he whispered, his voice rough. “That’s why you did it, hey? You pretended you were dying just to get your hands on some of that money?”

It was like time just stopped for a few seconds. Adele’s fingers froze in their act of stroking his wrist and their eyes locked – he could see the almost-panic in hers and he hoped to hell that she could see the barely contained fury in his.

Eventually she decided to brazen it out. “Money?” she had a perfect hurt/confused expression on her face as she carefully tried to withdraw her hand. “I have no idea what you mean, darling.”

Real fear flashed over her as Face tightened his fingers, not permitting her to pull back from him and he let his expression fall open, allowing the anger, the seriousness, the coldness of his eyes wash over her. “Yes, you do,” he whispered, low and dangerous. “Somehow you found out about the counterfeit money and that was what prompted you to get in touch with me after all these years. All that business about wanting to get to know me, how you were dying,” Face felt the fury leak out in that one word and he reined himself back in; if he let it all out now, all the pain, all the anger... well, he had no idea what he would do. “That was all a load of horse shit wasn’t it? Just a ruse to try and get me to sign it all over to you.”

Adele stared at him, for once in her life lost for words as she looked into his cold blue eyes, recognising herself in him for the very first time.

“But it didn’t work did it?” Face smiled a brittle, hard smile, enjoying the fear that lurked in her eyes. “Because I never cared enough about you to want to give you anything,” he couldn’t resist the opportunity to inflict a little pain himself. “And that was before I found out that you had tried to poison Murdock, because you did, didn’t you?”

He let the silence fall, let it wash over them both. His fingers, tight on her wrist could feel her pulse jumping frantically against her skin and a savage satisfaction unfurled within him. She was scared, he was scaring her. Good.

But then Adele decided to fight back. “Yes I did!” she hissed, trying to drown her fear in anger. “He threatened to spoil my game and tip you off, and I couldn’t have that, not when I could tell you were so close to caving in.”

“So he deserved to die?” Face spat coldly.

“No,” Adele’s cold laugh chilled him, “he was never supposed to die! He was supposed to revert to type, have another one of his crazy spells, end up in the nut house again where he could rant and rave about me from the safety of his strait-jacket and no one would ever believe him!”

Face whipped his hand away in disgust and tightened his fingers into fists. He’d knocked people out for less than that in the past and her words cut him to the core as he knew how close they were to being true... and for Murdock to end up like that would be a fate worse than death for him - for them all.

Adele sneered at the horror in his face and pressed her advantage. “And yes, I came after you because of the money, of course it was because of the money, why on earth would I want you otherwise?”

Her words were like a solid slap and Face fought hard to get hold of some of that anger again, something that would protect him from the searing pain right through his chest. But it was suddenly so hard to find and instead he just looked at her, hiding his agony under nothing more substantial than a blank stare.

“After all, I went to all that trouble to ditch you the first time, grabbing, needy little thing that you were, why the hell would I ever want you back in my life again?”

“There was no one after you?” The words were out of Face’s mouth before he could stop them and he could have kicked himself for letting them out, especially when Adele laughed out loud at him.

“Oh, no! My poor little Danny! Did you believe that story, about the big, bad man wanting to catch your mommy?” She smirked coldly at him. “I suppose it’s easy to believe what you’ve always wanted to hear isn’t it? Would the truth have been harder to swallow?”

“Shut up,” Face muttered under his breath.

“What’s the matter? You don't want to hear what really happened back then?”

“Shut up!” he repeated, teeth clenched, finger nails digging crescents into his palms.

“Scared of the truth about yourself, darling?” Adele mocked.

“I know the truth already!” Face exploded, “I know about the trailer and your drinking and the whoring around and the way you’d get me to steal for you and hit me when I didn't do things right! I know about all the men as well and the way that you would let them touch me if they’d leave you a bit of hash or a bottle of vodka when they were done!”

All the blood drained from Adele’s face and her eyes quickly flicked around to make sure no one had heard him. “Oh, really?” she asked coldly. “Well, if you remember all that, then surely you would remember that I did meet a man and he offered to take me to New York and make me into a top model, living the high life and all that that entailed, and you!” she stabbed a manicured finger at him, “were most certainly not invited!”

Face felt his cheeks pale and hated himself for it when he saw the look of victory that swept across Adele’s face.

“That’s right, dear,” she hissed, twisting her own knife now, “you’d always been nothing more than an inconvenience to me in the past, but by then you were a blight on my entire existence! Always so damn clingy, wanting hugs and approval and climbing into bed with me the whole damn time and asking if you were a good boy...” she shook her head, her lipped curled in disgust. “You ought to count yourself lucky that we passed that orphanage that night, my original idea had been to just leave you on a street corner somewhere!”

Despite everything that Face had ever gone through in his life up to that point, despite every low opinion that he’d ever had of himself and every put down that others had heaped upon him, those words hurt him more than anything that had ever come before. He just stared at her, hating the way he knew from her smirk that his agony was etched all over his face, hating her for saying those things, thinking those things, but most of all, hating himself for being nothing she’d wanted back then, being so unlovable and repulsive that she had wished him dead.

Adele could see the devastation in his eyes and knew her victory in this battle was just around the corner so she leant in for the death blow, “And you are just the same now aren’t you?” she whispered. “Except it’s not me that you are clinging onto all the time, refusing to see when you aren’t wanted. No, now you have latched yourself onto John and the others, sucking them dry like the emotional parasite you are!”

Face’s heart was pounding hard against his chest as her words wrapped round and round his mind like a giant boa constrictor. “You said John didn’t want you to go to New York?” she spat at him. “That was a lie wasn’t it? He wanted you to go really didn’t he? A chance to get you out from under his feet, to cut the ties that are slowly choking him to death!”

And now Face was reeling. Hannibal had said that hadn’t he? He had told Face to go to New York, said it was the best thing to do... Hadn’t he? Or had he? Suddenly it was all just a confusing blur. He heard Adele laugh at him and he fought hard in his memories for the words that had actually been spoken that night but they wouldn’t come, nothing about the New York discussion would come...

“Ahhh, what’s the matter?” Adele mocked him in a voice that had him longing to put a fist into her mouth, “Never noticed how much you annoy John before? Truth hurt, darling?”

She was right; he did annoy Hannibal, all the damn time. It was like Face had a hot wire straight to Hannibal’s temper; no one could get to the boss as much as he could, no one made him so angry and frustrated at times.

“Oh dear,” Adele laughed, “seems I’ve knocked open can of truth worms, hey, Danny?”

He suddenly wanted to run, get out of this booth and just flee, from this woman, the team who didn’t want him, from Hannibal who had obviously been wanting him to go for so, so long now...

“Go on,” she hissed, “run away. You know they want you to, you know John is just desperate to be free of you...”

Face tensed, the muscles in his legs bunching to do exactly what she was suggesting and then it suddenly came back to him, the words from that night, exactly what Hannibal had said to him, ’ The very, very, last thing I want to do is to spend one more night away from your side...’ And Face had believed him, why? Because Hannibal had held him and stroked him and then taken him to bed and loved him, because that’s what Hannibal did, he loved him, and so did Murdock, and so, in his own gruff way, did BA. Adele never had, and ever since he’d met her, Face had kind of known that any way, but his team, well they always had – and they always would.

He willed his muscles to relax and stop shaking and forced himself to meet Adele’s mocking stare head on. “You have no idea how stupid your lies sound,” he told her calmly. “Hannibal never wanted me to go anywhere. He loves me.” She raised a patronising eyebrow at him. “He’s in love with me,” Face clarified. “You always thought you had a chance with him?” Now it was his turn to look at her in mock sympathy, “You never did. He’s taken. By me.”

Emotions rolled over Adele’s face in almost comical quick succession. Shock, disbelief, humiliation and finally determination, and with a cold sneer, she had one more attempt at driving home her absolute destruction of him. “You think he loves you?” she scoffed. “Just because he fucks you every once in a while?” She saw the flinch that Face couldn’t hold back at her words and forged on. “He doesn’t love you! It’s no such thing at all. You said yourself how difficult it is for any of you to have a girlfriend in your current situation, all you are to him is sexual relief, a warm hole for him to come in! You think it’s more than that?” She shook her head at him, “Then I pity you and the heart ache you have coming your way.”

For a second, the desperation threatened to swallow him whole, but then Hannibal’s voice sounded loud and clear above the roaring in his ears. ‘I love you, Temp, with everything I am.’ and it gave him the strength he needed to swallow the threatening panic down and smile serenely at Adele. “He loves me,” he reiterated, knowing with absolute certainty that it was true. “Twenty years we’ve been lovers,” he smirked at the shock she couldn’t hide. “That’s right, from long before he had no other choices, he chose me to share his life with him.” Adele just stared as Face pushed on, “I was seventeen when he picked me out. He was the first person ever to love me, the first person ever to make love to me. He gave me my name and he gave me my life. He means more to me than you ever could, and that’s exactly the way I want it.”

He slowly got to his feet, holding her eyes with his own as he stood. “I am going to walk out of here now, Adele, and you are going to pack your bags and get the hell out of LA.” She just stared at him, lost for words once more. He considered her, tilting his head in thought. “If I could have my time with you again, you know, I actually wouldn’t change a single thing, even if I could pick any woman at random off the street and know damn well that she would make a better mother than you ever did. You said once that walking out on me was for the best, and out of all the lies you’ve spun, that’s the one true thing that left your lips. You leaving me pushed me into Hannibal’s path, and with that my life is complete. The next time you consider the fact that your handsome prince never arrived, remember that I have been living with mine for over half my life now.” Face smiled as he saw the realisation of the truth in his words as it hit her.

He tugged Hannibal’s sweatshirt down over his hips. “You are never going to darken my door again,” he told her, quiet but confident. “And if I ever find you anywhere near BA or Hannibal or Murdock...” he shook his head sadly, “then I will kill you. You understand me?” He was gratified to see the fear in her eyes. “And if Murdock doesn’t make a full recovery from your little stunt,” he shrugged, “I’ll kill you anyway. Poison you with something you don’t even see coming. Think on that the next time you stuff a three course meal down your neck in a restaurant.”

Adele looked up at him, and he knew she was taking him very, very seriously indeed. “Goodbye,” he said quietly, turned on his heel, and walked out.

He stalked straight out into the sunshine, but he could already feel the shaking starting up in his legs and the cold sweat across his back. He looked for a taxi and reached out to hail one, but then realised he would never make it and instead turned into the alley at the side of the hotel, only just managing to get behind the cover of the first trash can before his breakfast came up all over the ground.

He wretched over and over again, even when there was nothing left to come up, but then his sixth sense kicked in and he felt someone behind him as he dry heaved into the gutter. In a flash he straightened and turned, bringing his arm up at the same time and feeling the satisfying thump of cheekbone against elbow even as the sharp sting of a needle in his neck caught his attention.

He stumbled as he looked up, his vision already starting to grey around the edges, and frowned as his knees hit the ground with a bone jarring thud. His last conscious thoughts as the blackness swirled in and took him were, who was that man in the dark suit smiling coldly at him? And why did he look so damn familiar?

Next

Current Mood: curious
Current Music: The Smiths - What Difference Does it Make?

BA 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

Current Mood: hyper
Current Music: The Killers - Jenny Was a Friend of Mine

It took Face twenty minutes to relay the whole story to Hannibal, and then the boss leant back in his chair, idly knocking the vial of Echinacea backwards and forwards between his palms. “I don’t understand it,” he admitted to Face eventually. “He’s been so well for so long, what the hell has triggered this episode now?”

Face shrugged, but he had an awful idea he knew exactly what had caused it.

“Face...” Hannibal warned, knowing that look only too well. “What aren’t you telling me? Has he been skipping his meds?”

Looking up, Face frowned, “No! Of course not, you know he wouldn’t do that, but... well...” he met Hannibal’s gaze, “I think it’s Adele.”

“Adele?” Hannibal’s frown was deep, “What the hell do you mean by that?”

Face dropped his head into his hands and rubbed through his hair. “The thing in the basket, whatever the hell he thought it was, he said it was after me, wanted to drink my blood or something equally gross.” He forced himself to look up, “I think it’s some kind of transference of this whole business with Adele, I think he’s worried that she’s going to hurt me.”

Hannibal rolled the vial between his palms as he considered that, but, knowing more about Murdock’s knowledge of the situation than Face did, he doubted it. Yes, the pilot was concerned about Face and Adele and what she intended for him, more than Face would ever know, but he also had a job to do, a job that involved finding out what her game was and protecting Face from her plans, and as such, he wouldn’t let himself slip away like that leaving the job undone. Murdock was stronger, far more stubborn than that, there must be something else, some other trigger that had kicked him back, let all his anxiety come out like that. And Hannibal knew that if he just thought about it hard enough, trawled through the events of the last few days carefully enough, then he would find it.

______________________

Eddie Charing sighed and lent back in his seat as he slid his phone closed, his mind in a whirl. That was the fifth contact he’d spoken to now. He might not have fancy, secret, CIA contacts like Silas did, but he did have plenty of army ones, and plenty of army ones who had been in the FOB that night that Smith’s team had brought the plates back. And it was strange, because all of his army contacts were telling him the same thing, he looked back over his notes, yes, exactly the same thing over and over again. Eddie chewed the end his pencil and mulled all this over.

Silas thought he was stupid, a great, fat stupid waste of time, and, come to it, so did Adele. He frowned at that thought, he’d known Adele ever since she’d come to New York, helped her out more times than he ever cared to remember, and what did that ever get him from her? Nothing, nothing but scorn and ridicule. He flushed. Yes, he accepted that maybe Adele was a little out of his league now, he might have grown a little too much around the waist for her liking over the years, but still, he felt she at least owed him her friendship. And as it was he looked like has wasn’t even going to get his fee for finding Danny for her, for tracking down the elusive and evasive A-Team, you would think she’d have been impressed with him over that.

But no, because then Silas appeared, Silas with his flash car and fancy suits and trim, hard body. Silas who would slit your throat as soon as look at you, and who Eddie didn’t trust one, tiny little bit. So, that’s why he had dug out these old army buddies, tapped them for information that they really didn’t want to give. He didn’t trust Silas’ story, none of this felt right, and if he was honest with himself, it never had done. So Eddie was going to do some digging of his own, see what he could find out about their elusive partner, and this, yet-to-be-seen money. Maybe if Eddie uncovered Silas for the rat he was, maybe then Adele would realise what a good friend he was to her. Maybe it would even go further than that, maybe Adele would realise that she was in love with him...

The bell above the door of the diner he was in rang as an old lady shuffled in with all her shopping bags and Eddie shook himself back to reality. Well, he would hold onto that particular dream for another day, but right now he had three more contacts to chase up, and then he’d see what picture that painted of the oh-so-smart-Silas Pike.

_______________________________

Face slept for a couple of hours in the afternoon, and by the time he roused himself, the cold meds were doing their job and he felt a little bit more human, even if that was a rather snotty, stuffed up, human. He pulled some old PT trousers on and, barefoot and still in Hannibal’s sweatshirt, wandered downstairs following the sound of the cartoons he could hear in the den.

He peeped in through the door, to find the other three members of his family sitting in companionable silence while the TV flashed multi coloured lights on the walls. Hannibal was in the chair in the corner, sock clad feet up on the coffee table while he puzzled over the crossword in the paper. BA was on the sofa, leaning up against the arm rest in jeans and a t-shirt with the arms ripped off. Murdock, pale and covered with a fleece blanket was next to him, tucked against his side, eyes fixed on Road Runner.

“Hey,” Face greeted them, padding in and flopping down at the opposite end of the sofa to BA.

“Hey, kid,” Hannibal put his crossword down, “You feeling any better?”

“Yeah,” Face replied, flashing a genuine smile, “think it’s just a cold, not man-flu this time.”

Hannibal laughed and went back to his puzzle as Murdock sheepishly shuffled from BA’s side to Face’s, sliding under the arm Face lifted for him and leaning in as Face let it wrap around his shoulders.

“You okay there, buddy?” he asked quietly, quickly running his eyes over his friend, pleased to note he wasn’t shaking or sweating.

“Yeah,” Murdock answered, looking awkward and uncomfortable, “I’m sorry I made such an ass of myself earlier, Face...”

“Hey!” Face protested, squeezing Murdock tightly to his side. “Don’t speak like that; you know that’s not what happened at all.”

“Well, it won’t happen again,” Murdock mumbled quietly and Face dropped a kiss onto the top of his head as he curled into Face’s stomach and went back to watching the cartoons.

__________________________________

The following morning felt a little like Groundhog Day to Face as he awoke to find Hannibal’s hand on his forehead again, and the boss, fully dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You going out, boss?” he mumbled as he forced sleep from his mind and struggled to sit up against the pillows.

“Just a couple of errands to run,” Hannibal told him, smiling at his sleep befuddled expression. “How are you feeling? You seemed to sleep better last night.”

Face tested himself out and then returned Hannibal’s smile. “Yeah. Better, throat’s not so bad, don’t feel as hot today.”

“No,” Hannibal agreed, “you don’t.” He stood up. “Well, I’ve brought you breakfast and tablets and coffee and those stupid drops you like,” Face pouted, “and BA is keeping an eye on Murdock so you just stay here and take it easy right?”

That sounded like heaven to Face, but it also felt a little idle. “You sure?” he offered half heartedly, “I could be ready in ten if you want some company.”

“No, it’s fine,” Hannibal reassured him, stooping to press a firm kiss to his sleep dry lips. “You stay here and fight off that man-flu and I’ll be back in time for lunch okay?”

Face slumped back into the pillows, easily convinced, but stuck his tongue out at Hannibal all the same as the boss just laughed at him and let himself out of the bedroom.

__________________________

Face drank his coffee and took his meds and then decided to go back to sleep. He had absolutely no idea he had been out for when he was suddenly bolt upright in the bed, desperate shouting yanking him from his dreams and as he worked out the words being yelled and the person yelling them, he stumbled to his feet at once and starting staggering, still half asleep, down the corridor.

“What?” he yelled, almost falling as he burst in through Murdock’s bedroom door, “What is it?”

Murdock was laid on the bed, flat on his back; eyes closed and dried vomit all around his mouth. The smell of yet more vomit hit Face in the gut as he dashed to the side of the bed and dropped to his knees facing BA. “What?!” he repeated, yelling louder to get through BA’s funk, “Report, corporal!”

That worked and BA instantly stopped in his frantic checking over of Murdock’s body to hold Face’s eyes.
“I jus’ came in here a coupla minutes ago and found him laid in a pile o’ sick, his pulse is slow an’ all over the place Faceman, an’ I saw these on the nightstand...”

Face’s eyes flicked from Murdock’s still, pale form to the blister pack of tablets in BA’s hand, the empty blister pack.

“Oh, fucking hell!” Face exploded, snatching the packet from BA’s hand. “He’s taken how many?! Shit, I checked these last night myself; he had a whole packet left! What the fuck has he done?!”

Face instantly started to move Murdock round into the recovery position, checking his airway was clear and then finding a pulse and counting slowly.

“Oh, man...” BA breathed, pale even under his dark complexion. “You think he done took them all on purpose?”

Face looked up, clearly startled. “You mean...?” he couldn’t even bring himself to say it, not even when BA nodded solemnly. “No,” Face said with a conviction forged out of almost eleven years of close friendship. “He said last night he would make sure he didn’t have another episode, I think he just took too many tablets to try and prevent it.” Face was finishing up with his examination of Murdock and BA watched his expression carefully, knowing he didn’t like what he’d found.

“It’s bad aint it, Face?” Face just nodded. “We’re gonna have to take him to hospital right?”

“Right...”

“Oh, Jesus, man...” BA dropped his head into his hands. “We may as well jus’ take him back to that place in Mexico or Germany ourselves then!”

“Not necessarily,” Face muttered getting to his feet. “Get him ready to move out. Hannibal will have the Chevy, we’ll have to take the van, I’ll see you down there in five minutes.”

BA watched him go then turned to the man in the bed, “Okay brother, let’s get you ready.”

____________________________

BA had been waiting with the engine ticking over for almost three minutes before Face finally appeared, dressed in green herringbone trousers, plain white shirt with a heavy brown tie and a Harris tweed jacket. His hair was slicked down and parted at the centre and he wore a pair of thick framed spectacles. In his hand he had a battered old leather briefcase and BA managed to stare at him incredulously even as he pulled out of the driveway. “What the hell, man?” he asked.

“Cover,” Face answered distractedly from where he was anxiously hovering over Murdock in the back, “I’ve got a new i.d. here for him, James Taylor, and I’m his brother, Joshua.”

BA put his foot down as they pulled onto the main road, driving as fast as he could without attracting any unwanted attention. “Well, that aint gonna work, Face!” he exclaimed frustratedly, “They need to know the truth! You can’t admit him pumped full o’drugs and seein’ monsters in linen bins and not tell anyone! They won’t treat him right!”

Face kept his eyes on Murdock but lifted the briefcase up for BA to see. “Mental health history, eleven years of drugs records, inpatient stays, even a mention of yesterday’s episode all in here, BA. Along with insurance, passport and birth certificate...” He met BA’s eyes with his own hard stare. “What did you think? That I’m just some idiot who would pack him off and let them pump him full of new drugs?” Face shook his head and turned away, dumping the briefcase back on the floor of the van.

“I’m sorry,” BA muttered as they finally joined the freeway, “I just...” he looked at Face in the mirror again, “You had all that ready? The clothes? Documents? Everythin’?”

Face shrugged and rubbed at his forehead, “Yeah... Always worried something like this would happen.”

BA shook his head, “I’m sorry Face, that’s really impressive...”

“It’s only impressive if it damn well works,” Face muttered under his breath and they drove on in silence,

“You got one of those packs for me?” BA eventually asked as they turned off for the hospital.

“Yeah,” Face admitted, the tiniest corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

“What’s my name, then?” BA asked, trying to sound like he really didn’t want to know.

“Boston,” Face admitted, schooling his expression into bland neutrality as he looked up at BA, “Boston Clayton.”

“Oh, hell, man,” BA moaned as he pulled into the hospital grounds, “You made me sound like a damn porn star...”

Next

Current Mood: excited
Current Music: The Killers - Jenny Was a Friend of Mine

It was late when Face finally managed to disentangle himself from Adele and get home. He’d said he would call Hannibal for a lift, but he was just so desperate to get away as soon as he had the chance that he stalked straight out of the building and slid into the back seat of a cab that had pulled up to drop someone off. Within minutes he was home, and finding Hannibal sitting at the kitchen table looking over some e-mails, he pushed the table back and climbed onto his man’s knee, wrapping his arms around Hannibal’s shoulders and pushing his face into the comforting warmth of that strong neck.

“Hey,” Hannibal said immediately, winding his arms around Face’s broad back and tugging him close, “What’s up baby? I thought I was going to come and get you?”

For a few minutes Face couldn’t speak. He just let himself melt into the warmth and security that was Hannibal and let his breathing slowly settle back into a normal pattern as he breathed in the comforting smell that just was the boss.

“Face?” Hannibal prompted after a few minutes of silence.

“I just needed to get home fast,” Face eventually mumbled into the gap between T-shirt and neck and revelled in the feeling of being loved like this.

“Why?” Hannibal gently probed.

Silence fell once more and Hannibal waited while Face formulated his answer. Just as he thought that his boy had run out of words, Face spoke. “She’s asked me to go back to New York with her until she dies,” he eventually admitted.

Hannibal gave himself time to think before he answered. “And you said?”

“That I would talk to you about it,” Face admitted, hating himself for his cowardice.

“It’s up to you,” Hannibal answered in an instant, smoothing circles on Face’s back. “What do you want to do?”

Face pulled back and looked at Hannibal, “I want to stay here,” he said immediately.

Hannibal sighed, knowing that there was more to this.

“But I feel I should go.”

For a second they just looked at each other before Hannibal forced out a sad smile. “The very, very, last thing I want to do is to spend one more night away from your side,” he told Face sadly. “But if going to New York gives you the chance to forge the relationship with Adele that you deserve, then, hell kid, of course you should go.”

They looked at each other in the half light of the kitchen and then Face let his head fall down onto Hannibal’s shoulder once more and they hung onto each other silently as the night moved on around them. Neither one said another word on the matter, but both knew that it had all been decided, Face was going to New York.

_____________________

A hand on his forehead woke him up the next morning and he blinked the sleep out of his eyes to find himself looking up into Hannibal’s face.

“Morning Sleeping Beauty,” Hannibal cracked, shifting to settle on the edge of the bed and that’s when Face noticed he was not only out from under the covers but dressed as well.

“You going out, boss?” he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Yeah,” Hannibal confirmed, lifting up a little so that Face had the space to haul himself up into the pillows, “I’m going to go get those new cameras with BA.”

Face groaned and let his eyes slide shut as he scrubbed his palm over his face. “Oh, shit...” he mumbled, “I’m sorry, I forgot. Gimme ten minutes and I’ll be ready and I’ll go,” he started to swing his legs out of the bed.

“No, kid,” Hannibal put a large palm on his shoulder and gently pushed him back down. “I don’t mind going, I was awake so it made sense.” Face just stared at him, unconvinced and Hannibal smiled reassuringly before trailing his hand back up onto his boy’s forehead. “Anyway, you had a crap night’s sleep, tossing and turning all over the place, and you feel a little hot to me, so just stay here and take it easy.” Face frowned, now that Hannibal mentioned it, he did feel a little under the weather, maybe he was coming down with a cold or something. “And I’ve brought your coffee up, okay, so you can have that in bed.”

“You’re the best,” Face murmured, letting himself relax into the pillows once more as the smell of the coffee reached him.

“I know,” Hannibal smirked back as he got up and headed for the door. “And Murdock is still asleep too, make sure you get him up before eleven, or he’ll be bouncing off the walls all night.”

Face frowned, “He’s not up? What time is it?”

“Nine thirty,” Hannibal answered. “We should be back around one, okay?”

“Okay,” Face replied, still thinking how strange it was that Murdock had slept so late as Hannibal closed the bedroom door and he heard his footsteps retreating down the hallway.

Five minutes later, the throaty roar of the van reached him as it pulled off the drive, and five minutes after that, Face had slipped back into sleep.

____________________________

He opened his eyes to a raging headache and a raw sore throat and a clock that was blinking 11.45 at him. “Oh, bugger,” he muttered, rolling over and planting his feet on the floor, taking a minute to let the room stop spinning. It was obvious that his cold had arrived and his thoughts moved to vitamin C, Echinacea and cold capsules, but first he needed to check on Murdock. Yanking a t-shirt on over his tousled hair and a pair of trunks up over his legs, he headed out into the silent hallway and stopped outside Murdock’s closed bedroom door.

“Hey, buddy,” he called against the painted wood, “you can’t still be asleep!” He listened carefully and frowned at the silence that met him. “Murdock?” Still nothing, so Face slowly opened the door and peered into the darkened room. “Bud?” The bed was empty, but the duvet was still dishevelled, something that Murdock’s almost OCD levels of neatness usually didn’t allow, and Face stepped in, real worry starting up inside him now.

“Face!”

The voice made him jump and he squinted in the direction it had come from, the gap between the bed and the wardrobes and could just make out a figure crouched on the carpet. “Murdock?”

“For god’s sake Face!” there was real fear in that low, desperate, whisper. “Get out of the way or it’ll get you!”

Face’s heart sank. He recognised this well, the fear, the desperation, the very real crisis that was obviously only playing out in Murdock’s head. And they had been doing so well; it had been months, literally months and months since Murdock had been like this. Face slipped straight into well rehearsed coping strategies. “What buddy?” he asked gently, dropping to the floor and crawling towards Murdock, nice and slowly, hands open and clearly on display, “What’s gonna get me?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Murdock spat out harshly and Face paused, suddenly unnerved by the hostility in Murdock’s voice. “It’s hiding in the fucking basket! Won’t let me see it, just keeps whispering and whispering and whispering and fucking whispering in my head all the time!”

Letting his eyes drift to the innocuous looking laundry basket behind him by the door, Face wondered how best to deal with this, he’d never seen Murdock quite so agitated for years, quite so jumpy. “Okay,” he said, slowly and carefully. “How about I get rid of it for us then? Take the basket out into the yard and then you won’t be able to hear it anymore?”

“No!” Face actually jumped at the sudden volume Murdock had produced, and his eyes flicked from the basket back to his friend who was looking utterly terrified. “You go anywhere near it and it will have your throat out, Face! That’s what it wants, you! Your blood, it wants to wash itself in your blood!”

Face shivered, Murdock hadn’t been this bad for a long, long time.

“Okay,” he tried again, “why don’t we get out of here then? Leave it in here in its basket until Hannibal and BA get back and then they can deal with it while we wait in my room. What do you think?”

“No!” Murdock was pulling at his fingers, twisting them around and around in his anxiety. “I can’t get past it!”

“Right...” Face thought again. It was tempting, as it always was in these situations to just tell Murdock that there was nothing there, that it was all in his head and he wasn’t well, but they’d tried that on occasions over the years, and that just upset him even more, thinking that he wasn’t believed. Playing along was a better option Face knew, even though it didn’t feel much like it at the minute.

“Okay then,” he eventually said, taking charge of the situation, “this is what we are going to do.” Murdock looked at him, expectantly.

“I’m gonna go get BA’s weights from downstairs and then I’m gonna creep up on the basket, put a weight on top so he can’t open the lid,” Murdock was already shaking his head, hands slipping into his hair, “and then I’ll just carry the whole thing down to the yard! Simple!”

“No, no, no, no, no, no...”

Face sighed, “Murdock, buddy, why not?”

But Murdock was past listening now, “No, you can’t!” he was hissing under his breath, hands pulling his hair so tight it must have been agony, “You can’t have him, not Face, not my friend! You keep your damn claws off him, off his blood, it’s not yours, no, no, no,” and on it went, desperate, terrified rambling that simultaneously shredded his nerves and broke his heart.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered under his breath

He took a quick glance at Murdock, his face hidden in his hands as he whispered and pleaded and sobbed, and made his decision, he climbed to his feet and took a step towards the basket, determined just to get the damn thing out into the corridor so Murdock could start calming the hell down. He wasn’t prepared for what hit him, though, almost one hundred and eighty pounds of wiry muscle, slamming into him from behind, pinning his arms to his side and careering them both over the top of the unmade bed, only to crash to the floor again on the other side, Face’s head taking the brunt of the impact and then all the air in his lungs forced out of him as Murdock landed right on top.

For a few minutes, all was a bit fuzzy. Face managed to drag an arm out of Murdock’s death grip, and groped his pounding head, relieved not to feel either blood or even a lump, and then desperately sucking air into his burning lungs he manoeuvred himself onto his back, one ankle jammed awkwardly under the bed and hauled a sobbing, terrified Murdock off him to lie jammed between Face’s body and the box base of the divan.

“It’s okay,” Face whispered, feeling Murdock clinging to him like a petrified child, “We’re safe now, James, it can’t get us here, we’re safe and the boss will be back soon, okay, just calm down, we’re both safe.” He continued in this vein, every word scraping at his raw throat, stroking Murdock’s dishevelled hair, holding him tightly and wishing he’d brought his phone with him and was wearing more than his trunks and a t-shirt.
__________________

Two hours passed, and Murdock was still clinging onto him with a level of force that Face couldn’t quite get his head around. He wasn’t sobbing anymore, but he was shaking; he also hadn’t said a single word since tackling Face to the floor. Face was cold, his ankle, still trapped under the divan, was throbbing, his head was pounding, his ribs ached, his throat felt like it was on fire, he was getting desperate for a leak, his nose had started running now, all down his face where he couldn’t free a hand from Murdock to wipe it, so when he heard the van pull up outside, he felt like crying with relief.

The last few minutes until they were discovered were, quite possibly, the longest of the entire morning. Face didn’t want to shout and get the attention of the rest of the team, he was too worried about freaking Murdock out any further, so he listened as footsteps walked past Murdock’s door into his own room, could almost imagine Hannibal staring at the cold, untouched coffee on the nightstand before turning back and heading for Murdock’s room.

Slowly, quietly, the door edged open and Face twisted awkwardly on his hip, feeling Murdock tighten even more around him, until he could see the boss, watch as Hannibal’s eyes ran around the darkened room, eventually settling on the two figures jammed at the side of the bed. He didn’t speak, knew that might set Murdock off again, but his eyes locked with Face’s and he raised an eyebrow in silent question.

Face nodded at the laundry basket, “Get that out of here, boss,” he whispered, almost breathed, so worried about the man in his arms.

Hannibal just glanced at the basket and without question picked it up, pulling it through the gap in the door and Face let out a huff of relief as he heard it dropped in the hallway outside. After that, came the quiet voices of Hannibal and BA as they discussed the situation followed by the door creeping open once more and BA, with a gentle quietness that always surprised Face in these situations, walked softly across the room to kneel down at Face’s back.

“Hey, Murdock,” he said, his deep voice almost reverberating through Face’s ribs. “You ready to get into bed here? Not lookin’ a whole lot of comfy on that floor there.”

Murdock blinked and looked at at BA’s smiling face, before flicking over to Face and then back again. “The basket?” he asked quietly.

“It’s gone, man, me an’ Hannibal got rid of it for you,” the sincerity in BA’s face tugged at Face’s heart. “You gonna get up and let Faceman get somethin’ to eat?”

Murdock’s eyes flicked back to Face who smiled at him, “It didn’t get you, buddy?” he whispered and Face smiled wider still.

“Nah, course not, you saved me.”

A watery smile greeted his words and he felt the death grip on his ribs ease as Murdock let BA help him up, pulling him out of the gap between Face and the bed and settled him into the duvet, his deep voice a soothing monotone. Face rolled away from the bed, letting BA step over him to be closer to Murdock and groaned as he eased his ankle out from under the divan box.

“Easy, kid,” Hannibal whispered, trying not to disturb BA who was now sat on the bed next to Murdock, holding his hand and talking quietly to him. “You need a hand?”

“Yeah,” Face replied, letting those big, warm hands take his elbows, lift him up, hold his weight as he winced when trying to stand on his throbbing ankle. Then Hannibal slid an arm around his waist, pulled Face’s wrist over his shoulders and helped him to the door where they turned to look back at Murdock, wrapped in the duvet now, eyes closed, pale but calm, and Face let Hannibal draw him from the room.

“Bed?” Hannibal asked quietly once they were in the hallway next to the dratted laundry basket.

“Kitchen,” Face replied instead, still wanting vitamin C and cold meds and Echinacea, but now with a trip to the bathroom, coffee and toast and a soft seat and some warmth.

His ankle was feeling better with every step, life returning to it as fresh blood flowed in and by the time he’d taken his leak and they’d reached the kitchen, he was walking on his own, wiping at his running nose with the back of his hand and earning a low chuckle from Hannibal. “Still like a five year old, Face,” he muttered, dropping a box of tissues on the table as Face lowered himself gratefully into a chair. As Face blew his nose, and wiped his eyes as they started running in sympathy, Hannibal returned, stripping his own sweatshirt off and pulling it on over Face’s head, before depositing a couple of Dayquil, a glass of OJ and the vial of Echinacea down in front of the kid as the coffee machine whirred into life on the counter.

Face sighed shoved his arms through the warm sleeves of Hannibal’s sweatshirt, smelling the familiar scent of his man even through his stuffy nose as he took the meds with the juice – how wonderful it was to be so loved and known so well. He would miss Hannibal so, so much when he was in New York, and his stomach twisted uncomfortably at that thought.

“Better?” Hannibal asked as he brought two mugs of steaming coffee over and slid into the seat across from Face. Face nodded and so Hannibal got straight down to business, “What the fuck happened with Murdock then?”

Next

Current Mood: busy
Current Music: U2 - Baby, Please Come Home (It's not too early for Christmas songs - right?)

Silas adjusted his position and moved the blind back just a shade so that he could see who was getting into the old Chevy in the driveway to the house. He sighed and leant back in frustration, that was Peck and Smith leaving, so it left Baracus and Murdock in the house; did these idiots never go anywhere unless they were in twos?

Two days now, Silas had been ensconced in the house he had managed to rent just down the road from the one that the team were using. At first he hadn’t believed it when he had followed Smith’s car back from the beach and ended up at this picture of suburban bliss. If he’d had to imagine a venue for the infamous A-Team to hole up in, it wouldn’t have been a four bedroom family residence in a quiet neighbourhood with a basket ball hoop above the garage door and a bird feeder in the yard. But then, he’d mused as he’d watched Smith and his quarry wander up the driveway and let themselves in, what better way to hide than in plain sight? No skulking around in the wilderness for them, no, if you were going to be on the run, at least you could do it with satellite TV, full central heating and a side-by-side fridge freezer. He admired their style.

It had seemed easy once he found out that the house two doors down and across the road was available to rent, thought he would camp out there for a day or so, wait until Peck went out on his own, follow him and swoop, a great plan, except that Peck never seemed to go anywhere on his own, none of them did, he even went out running with Murdock. And they never seemed to leave anyone in the house on their own either, it was like a damn school outing, everyone had to go somewhere with their partner.

Even when Silas had had enough and decided that he would take Peck even though he was out with the fool pilot, he’d thought twice when he’d caught a glimpse of a side arm tucked into the waistband of Peck’s shorts as he and Murdock pulled a couple of stretches before starting out on their run. What was the matter with these people? Were they all paranoid or something? Thought the world was out to get them? Silas smiled coldly to himself, all the paranoia in the world wouldn’t help Peck in the end though he knew. Silas had the upper hand, and now he knew where they were hiding out, he could afford to just sit tight and wait for his opening. He knew it would come; it always did.

____________________________

Face wandered back down the mall, carrier bag clutched tightly in his hand, waiting for Hannibal to reappear with their next batch of off the peg phones. This changing number, changing phone business became really tedious after a while, but Face knew it was a necessity, knew that as nice as it would be to have one phone with one number that they could hold on to, it made them far, far too easy to trace and Hannibal’s paranoia had kept them out and alive so far, so who was he to knock it?

Normally Face would have gone with him and they would have bought two phones each, but this time Hannibal had received a message from Adele, his was the only number they’d given her, asking if Face was free to meet her for coffee in the big Starbucks at the mall. Face had wrinkled his nose at the thought when Hannibal had first brought it up, but then he saw the positives, he would only have an hour maximum to spend with her if they met up while Hannibal sorted the phones, and if he saw her today for such a short time, then he wouldn’t feel too guilty about ducking her for the next few days.

In the end it hadn’t been too bad. By the time he got there, she’d ordered a plate of pastries and a couple of coffees and they had sat and made polite conversation while they sipped and ate. Then Face had looked at his watch and told her he had to go, and Adele had produced a couple of bottles of Elderflower cordial she’d bought as a present for him and insisted he took. Face took the bag politely, kissed her cheek and made his escape, the smell of her perfume lodged in his sinuses as he headed over to where he was meeting Hannibal.

He was outside RadioShack now, staring at the sound systems in the window in deep envy when he heard a noise behind him and turned, finding Hannibal smiling at him with his Sprint bag in his hand.

“Ready?” he asked and Face nodded, eager to be away just in case he bumped back into Adele as she did her shopping. “What you got?” Hannibal questioned him, noticing the bag at his side.

“This?” Face said, lifting it up so that Hannibal could see in. “Elderflower cordial. It was a gift.” He still wasn’t comfortable in using either Adele’s name or her title.

Hannibal frowned, “Do you like that stuff?” he asked, puzzled.

“Nah,” Face answered dismissively, “but Murdock does, he was saying so the other night. I’ll give it to him.”

Hannibal was relieved that Face had survived yet another encounter with his mother intact, and so just nodded as they turned to make their way back towards the parking lot.

_______________________________

Murdock swirled on his seat at the computer, pencil in his mouth, ideas spinning through his head. His plans he get hold of Adele’s real medical file had been severely dented when he discovered that the medical practice that she was really registered with in New York still held all their files in paper format only. So that meant in order to get hold of them, he would have to actually travel to New York, something he was loathed to do at present, leaving Face at the mercy of that woman, even with Hannibal and BA to look out for him was not something that Murdock relished doing.

So... non-starter? Or was there another way? As he swung lazily from side to side he considered his options and a thought started to form in his head. He smiled widely to himself as he realised that yes, this might just work. If he got started now, he could have Adele’s real and no doubt leukaemia free, file in his hands in three or four days...

_________________________________

Hannibal looked at the folders spread out on his desk in a neat fan shape and tentatively lifted the top one from the pile. He opened it and found himself looking at the surveillance pictures that Face and BA had taken in the days preceding Adele’s arrival into their lives.

He refreshed himself on the prospective client’s names and their reasons for needing some help. The job was in Florida, not somewhere they would choose to visit in the hurricane season, but maybe a little trip out of state was just the thing they needed. He took a deep breath and blew it steadily out through his lips, but then maybe Face wouldn’t want to leave right now, maybe he wanted to stay with Adele during her last few months, if indeed these were her last few months. Or maybe he would be glad of the break?

Hannibal had no idea how the kid would react to this, his faith in his own ability to second guess Face had taken a severe and perfectly justified knock over these last few weeks. He needed to ask him, that would be the best route, just come out and ask him and as if he had conjured Face up with that thought alone, the lieutenant suddenly appeared in the doorway, lounging against the doorframe, silhouetted by the light from the hallway.

“Boss,” his tone was tired, reflecting the late hour, “how long are you gonna be? I fell asleep waiting for you to come and watch Jaws with me.”

“Jaws?” Hannibal laughed, “You know every time you watch that film you won’t go in the sea for weeks afterwards, why do you do it to yourself?”

“Because I thought I’d have you to cuddle up to,” Face replied, his voice a low scratchy whisper that found a home right in Hannibal’s pants, “and protect me from the big, bad fish.”

Hannibal smiled and closed his folder; he’d ask Face about that job another time, right now he had the demise of a big fish to watch and then maybe he would get a chance to see what he could catch.

__________________________________

Three days later...
__________________________________

Murdock stood in the front window of the house that had been the team’s home and headquarters for the last six weeks, a long time in their recent history of houses. He was waiting, not too patiently, for the mail man, hoping that today would be the day that Adele’s medical files would arrive from New York. It had taken him a while to set the whole thing up, the carefully constructed headed paper, just the right type of medical jargon, more than a touch of luck, and he’d had the positive reply through e-mail just the other day that they were, finally, on their way.

That news hadn’t filled him with any great sense of joy, however, just a massive, massive jolt of relief. It was a good job that he hadn’t been trying to set up the con now, the way he was feeling, he was lucky he was actually able to set up his X-box... Murdock shivered sand rubbed his hands up and down his arms, cold even though he knew it was a warm, sunny day and wondered how much longer he would be able to keep the terrors of his mind at bay.

For a couple of days now they had been creeping ever closer, fluttering in the corner of his eye, itching just under the surface of his skin, a burning, right inside his head that no amount of scratching ever seemed to ease. He was heading for full blown episode here and he knew it, the only thing he didn’t know was why.

Usually, Murdock wasn’t afforded the dubious luxury of knowing an episode was approaching, usually it was on him fast and hard before he had the slightest chance to duck. So, really, he supposed he should be glad that he at least had this warning, that he had some time to prepare and get as much of his plan to free Face from Adele’s poisonous grasp as he could before it was too late. And maybe he could even do something about heading it off completely, he knew what all his various cacophony of tablets were for, could tell you the exact role or function of each one which meant that he was fully aware of which ones were the anti-psychotics. Maybe he should increase the dosage, double it perhaps just for the next few days, give him the opportunity to get this business up and running before handing over to the others and sliding off into that state of anxiety and confusion that he knew could last days, weeks even.

But remaining still was the question of why...? Why now? There’d been no great emotional trauma, no torture, injury to the team, threat of or actual capture, so what had triggered this most unwelcome of episodes? Sure, things had been a little off with all the business with Face and Hannibal and Adele, but it hadn’t been that bad, Murdock hadn’t felt that out of control...

He shivered again and decided he needed to go and get a jumper on, and maybe while he was upstairs he might just get another one of those good pink tablets.

_____________________________

Adele stared frostily out of the window of her taxi as it inched along in the last few rays of the evening sunshine. There was a hell of a lot riding on this meal out she had planned, a hell of a lot, so she was taking this enforced crawl through LA on her way to the restaurant as an opportunity to go through it all.

Silas was incredibly conspicuous by his absence, and Adele, incredibly suspicious person that she was anyway found that she couldn’t bring herself to trust him one tiny little bit. From being so pushy that he was always in her face, poking her for every bit of information he could get, he’d suddenly disappeared right off the scene and that set every one of Adele’s early warning alarms off with gusto. At least when he had been around, she had known what he was doing. Now...

So, if Silas was planning his own private coup de grace then Adele needed to get in there pretty damn quick with hers, and now she knew exactly what she was going to do. It had taken a great deal of planning and a great deal of thought, but at last she was convinced that she had the perfect plan in her head to get Danny to hand that money over.

Over the last few days when Danny had consistently refused her offers of meeting up Adele had had plenty of time to plan and consider, and she’d spent a lot of that time analysing what she had learnt about her son, looking for that back door in that would be so useful, and then she’d found it.

Danny obviously carried his own scars over the way his childhood had turned out, she’d seen that in the way he struggled to control his feelings, the way he seemed to be able to switch personality at the drop of a hat, the way he couldn’t cope with strong emotions if they caught him unaware, and she wondered how he managed all that, why he wasn’t in a straight jacket somewhere, and then it had struck her. Where did Danny get all his strength, his resilience, the ability he had to resist the draw of his real mother after all this time? His team, or, as he’d said himself, his family. Suddenly it was obvious. Get Danny away from the team, and he would be putty in her hands.

___________________

Adele and Face arrived at The London hotel at almost the same time, and Face only raised his eyes at the news that she had reserved a table on the rooftop terrace. He knew how hard those tables were to get, she should have just asked him, he had done a number of favours for Jimmy, the Maitre d' here over the years and usually managed to get a table whenever he wanted. He had no idea, of course of the effort Adele had gone to to get them booked in. No idea of the lies, threats and mentions of her food critic status, before a table had been found for her, a good one at that. It was fortunate for Face that he had no idea, or he would have died of embarrassment at the scene she had caused.

“Ah, Mr. Davis,” Jimmy greeted him using Face’s usual dining out alias. “I had no idea this table was for you, your companion should have said and I would have made sure you had your usual one!”

Face flushed slightly at the way Adele turned to glare at him and smiled apologetically at the Maitre d’. “Oh, it’s fine, Jimmy,” he reassured him. “I’m simply the guest tonight.”

For the first time Jimmy let his eyes move to Adele and Face couldn’t miss the hostility he saw there, despite Adele’s best disarming smile being bestowed upon him. He wondered what on earth she had said to Jimmy to get him so wound up.

“Of course,” Jimmy simply stated, turning back to Face once more. “If you would like to step this way? No, Mr. Jones tonight then?”

“No,” Face answered, glancing quickly to see if Adele was listening, “he’s busy. Just us.”

Jimmy nodded and showed them to their table, pulling Adele’s seat out for her, but then pushing it in just a little too enthusiastically before giving them both a menu and retreating back to his station.

“Mr. Davis?” Adele asked, one perfectly sculptured eyebrow raised in question.

“An alias,” Face told her quietly, eyes fixed on the menu. “And don’t try to tell me that you’ve got this table booked under your real name either.”

Adele just shrugged. “And Mr. Jones?”

“Hannibal,” Face answered shortly.

“You two come here often?”

“Occasionally.”

“Just the two of you?”

Face nodded.

“Often enough to have a ‘usual table’?”

Face looked up from his menu, his expression calm and neutral. “Do you like chorizo? They do an excellent warm chorizo salad as a starter here.”

Adele just stared at him and then let him dodge the question as she turned her eyes to her own menu.

___________________________

Face watched as Adele finished off the last bit of loganberry cheese cake and then pushed her plate away, reaching for her coffee instead; for a slight woman, she sure could put some food away, if he ate like her he’d be five hundred kilos by now. Then she turned her eyes to him and smiled, managing to look like she might just have meant it. “So, this is nice,” her smile widening as she looked him over, “I love spending time with you,” then she sighed. “It will be awful once I go back.”

For just a moment Face resisted, but then, as always, he caved in. “Back where? Are you leaving?”

Adele sighed again, long and loud and sad. “I need to go back east, I don’t have enough money to stay out here any longer.”

Face toyed with the remains of his beer. “Maybe you are better off there?” he hedged cautiously, “After all, you will be seeing your own doctor.”

“Without the money for treatment, there is nothing he can do for me,” her voice was an almost whisper. “I would simply be going there to die.”

Scrubbing at his face with his free hand Face tried to stop himself from cringing, if he had the money to save her, he would do in a flash, pay her off and get her the hell away from him.

“I wish you could come with me...” and there it was, the barbed hook that Face had been expecting ever since she had started this entire conversation. He sighed. Maybe it wasn’t quite the barb he had been expecting but it was still a sharp one, a really, really, sharp one.

“I can’t come with you,” he explained patiently, “I have a job I need to do out here.”

“A job?” Adele flashed hurt eyes up at him. “You’re on the run from the government, a mercenary, what does it matter if you take a few weeks off, just until your mother, your only living relative, dies?”

Face frowned, “God, don't let Hannibal hear you calling us mercenaries. He hates it. Makes us sound far too much like Pike.”

Adele froze, “Pike?”

“Yeah,” Face threw back the last of his beer, “Some guy we knew in Iraq, the whole damn reason we’re in the mess we are in.”

There was a thick silence before Adele offered, “I know a Pike.”

“Yeah?” Face looked only mildly interested, “Common enough name I suppose. Don’t worry, it’s not our Pike, he’s dead. Been dead years now, but he was a mercenary and so Hannibal hates it if that’s what we get called.”

Adele nodded, satisfied for now. “But even so,” she continued, “however you spend your days, you must be able to have few weeks off without it being the end of the world? Come over to New York with me, let John and the others cope without you for a little while.”

Face stared hard at the condensation running down the sides of his glass.

“Just a few weeks?” Adele wheedled, “Just until I die?”

“Alright!” Face snapped wondering how on earth she got him into this situation in the first place, “I’ll talk to Hannibal!”

Adele lifted her coffee cup to hide the smile that was creeping over her face.

Next

Current Mood: excited
Current Music: Muse - Undisclosed Desires

It was a warm night in the Angel Stadium and Face found that he was, rather bizarrely, actually enjoying himself. Murdock had agreed to the plan as soon as Face had suggested it, they often went to watch the Angels together and it had been a while; even the news that Adele was coming hadn’t put him off. Murdock had offered to drive so that Face could have a few beers and while he had originally agreed feeling that he might need the beer just to get through the night, he now felt just quietly buzzed, relaxed even. Happy.

He and Murdock had turned up at Adele’s hotel spot on time to find her waiting out on the sidewalk for them, jeans and sneakers, Gap zip-up with a t-shirt underneath, smiling and waving as the old Chevy appeared.

“Hi!” she said enthusiastically as she slid into the back of the car, “I am so looking forward to this! I haven’t been to a baseball game in years!” Face looked at her in surprise and she beamed at him. “Lovely to see you, darling,” then she turned to Murdock, “And you must be Murdock, I’m so pleased to finally meet you.”

She held out her hand and Murdock looked at her for a moment in silence before reaching out and taking it, “Nice to meet you too ma’am,” he said solemnly before turning back to the traffic and pulling out.

Adele settled herself into the back and put her seatbelt on as Murdock eased into the flow of traffic. They hadn’t gone far, not even a block, before he turned, feeling Face’s eyes heavy on the side of his head. “What?” he asked, seeing the confusion in Face’s expression.

“Ma’am?” Face mouthed silently at him as Murdock just shrugged and turned back to the road.

__________________________

They had good seats. Face knew a few people here and there, still liked to do a few favours – you never knew when you might need to call them in. They were level with first base, just low enough to be able to see all the detail, just high enough to have a good view of the whole field. Face was lounging back in his seat, feet on the empty one in front, listening to Murdock and Adele on either side of him as they continued their long discussion on the rules of the game that had started before they had even parked.

He had never in a million years thought that his best friend and his flaky mother would click the way they seemed to have done, he’d been worried on many, many fronts in the run up to this night. First of all, he’d worried for Murdock. The guy could be so damn naive sometimes, just like a child when it came down to it, and Face had absolutely no doubt at all in his mind that Adele could strip flesh off with that tongue of hers. He’d decided straight off that he wouldn’t be tolerating any snide comments aimed at Murdock tonight, just one and they were out of there.

But then he’d remembered that Murdock himself had so far been less than enamoured with Adele herself, and worried that the night would consist of lots of thinly veiled barbs, traps for Adele to walk into and digs that might just let her know how much all of this business had rattled him – something he was very keen to avoid.

And now it seemed that his concerns were unfounded on both counts, Murdock and Adele were acting as though they were long lost friends and he was actually, embarrassingly, starting to feel a little left out – he almost wished he’d brought Hannibal along, then at least it might have been funny to watch Adele flirting with him while her John was happily oblivious.

Finally, with a full bladder and an empty beer bottle, Face decided to stretch his legs. “Beer run,” he announced, hauling himself to his feet and interrupting Murdock’s explanation over the differences between a splitter and a forkball. “Another coke?” he asked their designated driver.

“Sure, Face,” Murdock smiled at him, “And pizza?”

Face rolled his eyes but nodded before turning his attention to Adele. He was still at that awkward stage of not really knowing what to call her; ‘Adele’ seemed too formal and awkward, while ‘Mother’ or even worse, ‘Mom’, was just wrong on every level. Instead, the usually uber-composed lady’s man suddenly found himself tongue tied and stuttering when faced with his mother’s smile, and only managed to croak out a rather brusque sounding, “And you?”

If Adele even noticed, she hid it well and gestured to her almost empty bottle, “Another Bud would be fine, Danny, thank you.”

Face nodded, “Pizza?”

“Love one,” she smiled, “get me something spicy.”

Face nodded and pushed past Murdock’s knees, making his way up to the tunnel.

Silence fell on the two people left behind and Adele sat forward, smiling at Murdock, “So,” she said pleasantly, “essentially they are both the same except a forkball doesn’t drop so fast, right?”

Murdock turned and looked at her, “He hates it when you call him Danny,” he said quietly.

For a second Adele looked more than taken aback, but then she turned away, looking back out onto the field and sipping her beer. “I know,” she admitted quietly, “I was just hoping he would get used to it.”

The silence was back for a moment until Murdock shifted over into Face’s seat so they were sat thigh to thigh. “Looking pretty good for a lady at death’s door, Adele,” he whispered quietly. Adele turned slowly and stared coolly at him. “I know you are lying to him, I just don’t know why.” Murdock continued, “And as soon as I get enough proof I will be telling him everything.”

That comment seemed to score a direct hit and he carefully held her furious stare. “You tell him that and you will ruin any chance we have of getting close,” she told him lethally. “Is that what you want for him?”

Murdock’s eyes widened, “You can say that to me when you are the one lying through your damn teeth to him?” Adele stared back. “He was happy until you turned up, what on earth do you want from him?”

Adele’s grey eyes, so similar in colour to Murdock’s, narrowed dangerously, “He’s my son, Murdock, I have a right to get to know him.”

“Your rights evaporated the day you left him behind,” Murdock spat. “And he might buy your ‘running from the mob’ crap, but I certainly don’t. Do you have any idea what you did to him when you walked out?”

“It was for the best,” Adele ground out, two spots of colour appearing high on her cheeks, “and I fail to see what any of this has to do with you!”

“I need to say this,” Murdock told her quietly, “because Face won’t. Your little ‘leukaemia’ scheme has knocked him for six, he won’t say anything to you in case he upsets you in your last few months, but I know he wants rid of you.” Adele visibly paled, “And I know that if he had the money he would gladly pay your ‘medical bills’ for the next twenty years, just as long as you promised just to fuck off and leave him the hell alone.”

Adele looked as she had been slapped, and for a second she stared at Murdock, her mouth open like a fish before she caught herself and glared at him in fury, “What do you mean, ‘If he had the money’?” she scoffed.

“If he had the money!” Murdock repeated, “I don’t know how much plainer I could be, if he could afford to pay you to leave, he would; anything just to get rid of you.”

“That’s not true...” Adele whispered.

“It is,” Murdock hissed back. “He will never, ever forgive you for what you did to him as a child.”

“What I did to him?” Murdock wondered if that was a hint of fear he saw in her eyes, “What do you mean?”

“Leaving him,” Murdock supplied. “To be brought up as just another kid in care; nobody’s ‘special person’, no one to fight in his corner.”

“It can’t have been as bad as he makes out...” Adele grumbled mutinously, eyes back on the game and Murdock just scoffed, secretly surprised that Face had opened up to her about his childhood.

“No?” he asked mildly, “Growing up without love, ending up on the streets, juvenile detention, letting people use him, the drugs and the drink? You think that’s not so bad?” Adele slowly turned to face him her face deathly white and Murdock shook his head disgustedly. “If it hadn’t been for one of the priests, the only one Face ever respected, running into him in a soup kitchen and persuading him to go back to the orphanage, helping him apply for the army, turning a blind eye to his age, Face would be locked up by now. Or dead. You still think that’s not too bad?” Adele just stared at him and Murdock turned away in distaste. “I will find out what your game is,” he promised her under his breath, “and I will get you away from Face. Just you think on that.”

The happy sounds of the crowd around them were in direct conflict with the heavy silence that hung over Murdock and Adele and Murdock began to wish he’d not been so blunt, wondered what Face would make of the obvious oppression when he got back. But then Adele moved, getting to her feet and pushing past him and he looked up in surprise hoping he wouldn’t be left to explain her absence to Face.

“Don’t worry,” she said sharply on seeing his expression, “I’m only going to the restroom, I’ll be back.”

__________________________

Hours later, Face was weaving his way unsteadily back to the table that he and Adele had occupied in the corner of the hotel’s terrace bar, carrying two more beers and two packets of nuts. He knew he was drunk, but it was a pleasant, chilled kind of drunk one that threatened only a mild headache in the morning and without the compulsion to dance on tables or sing far too loudly in the street on the way home. He smiled at Adele as he clinked the bottles down on the table and sat heavily in the wicker chair at her side, both of them staring at the huge turquoise rectangle of the illuminated outdoor pool.

“What time is Murdock picking you up?” Adele asked watching as Face wrestled with a packet of nuts.

Face glanced at his watch, “Another forty minutes,” he answered, just as the bag split, emptying the contents into the lap of his jeans. “Shit...” he muttered and started to pick them up, aware of Adele giggling at his misfortune. He had had a really good night. His mother and Murdock getting on so well had been a bonus he had never anticipated, and despite a bit of a weird patch just after he had returned with the pizza where they were both a bit... quiet, they had got on well, like a house on fire in fact.

At first he’d thought it strange when, on pulling up to Adele’s hotel and her inviting them both in for a drink on the terrace, Murdock had declined with some rubbish excuse about picking up groceries in the twenty four hour Wal-Mart, but now Face just realised that the pilot probably felt he was intruding on Face’s ‘alone time’ with Adele, and so had offered to make himself scarce for a couple of hours, let them have that time to bond.

And amazingly, they had. Face liked this type of mom, one who went to baseball matches and drank beer with you, one pointed out pretty girls who may or may not be giving him the eye at the bar, one who got on well with his best friend and laughed when he emptied peanuts all over himself; this kind of mom he could maybe start to get used to...

“Have you had a nice night, then?” Adele asked, breaking into his thoughts as he rescued the last peanut from between his thighs.

Face nodded, “I have thanks. You?”

Adele smiled and returned his nod as she sipped her beer. “I thought so; you seem so much more relaxed. At ease. I like you like this.” Looking up sharply, Face felt himself flush, wondering if she could read his mind, but she only tipped her head slightly, considering. “The question is,” she continued, thinking out loud, “which you is the real you. This one in jeans and t-shirt, drinking Buds from the bottle, the beach bum from the other day or the guy in the suit who was holding onto his composure so tight it must have hurt?”

Face held her stare as his heart hammered against his ribs, “Which one do you think it is?”

Adele’s lips twitched as she reached for her beer. “This one. I think this is you.”

He relaxed back into his seat, his own eyes now running over her, “And I could say the same about you. You have been many different people as well since we first met. Were you trying them all out? Finding one that fit?” Face laughed at his own joke and reached forward to carefully place the torn peanut wrapper back on the table, missing the momentary tightness of Adele’s lips.

“So many people have hurt me,” she answered quietly instead, “that I need to keep the real me locked up inside, hidden behind expensive dresses and make up. You have no idea how good it is to at last meet someone I can trust, who I can just relax with and be me, you know?”

Face’s eyes narrowed in concern. “You’ve never had that?” Adele shook her head. “What about your husband, you obviously loved each other, surely you felt that way with him?”

Adele thought of Nari and for the first time a sliver of cold ran through her. Nari had been a good man, he had lots of contacts, knew how to live the high life, he appreciated fine wine and food, liked his homes huge and comfortable and he and Adele had got along just fine. But love? No. Nari hadn’t loved Adele, of that she had been pretty convinced, and she hadn’t loved him. Liked and respected, of course, but not loved. She’d never loved a man, not for a long time, not since...

Face’s voice jolted her back to reality, “Why did you marry him when you didn’t love him?” he was asking quietly, reading the expressions on her face to perfection.

She smiled at his concerned face and reached out to pat his arm gently, amazed and a little disconcerted that he had read her so well. “When you get to my age, darling,” she told him, “you start to realise that just maybe that handsome prince isn’t going to come galloping in on his white horse and change your whole life around. And then you need to realise that it’s maybe time to settle for something a little less grand.”

Face looked sadly at her, thinking, not for the first time just how damn lucky he was that his handsome prince had ridden in and changed his whole life. He dreaded to think where he would be if he hadn’t...

“Don’t make my mistakes,” Adele continued. “Don’t wait as long as I have until you let someone know the real you,” she rubbed his arm. “Let them in now, and when you get them make sure you do everything you can to never, ever, let them go.”

Face looked into her wide grey eyes, shining with tears which he misinterpreted as fear for his happiness and reacted without thought, “Oh, hey, it’s okay,” he reassured her, placing his hand over hers, dwarfing her fingers with his own, “I’m okay, don’t worry about me, I already have the person who knows me better than I know myself.”

Adele frowned, disappointed he had misinterpreted her, “You do?” she asked. Face nodded, his own eyes filling with tears at her obvious concern for him. “Who?”

“Hannibal,” Face replied without pause.

There was a silence, just long enough for Face to start to think that maybe he had misjudged the time to be honest before Adele replied, “Hannibal?” with as much scorn and derision in her voice that it hurt almost as much as the way she tugged her hand away from him.

“Yes,” Face replied, recovering fast, his quick mind forcing its way up through all the alcohol to try and rescue the situation from his loose mouth. “And Murdock and BA. They are my team and my family. They know me better than anyone else alive.” He shrugged, “The way our lives are just now, who else can I trust?”

Adele looked hard at him, measuring him carefully with her eyes and he fought to keep his expression steady. Eventually she smiled and sat back in her chair reaching for her own packet of nuts as Face slowly exhaled, letting the tension go as well and grabbed his beer, almost finishing it in one go. That had been close. Too, too close. He would have to watch himself from now on, no letting his guard down around her; it was far too dangerous still.

Being very careful to keep his body language relaxed and slightly tipsy, even though he now felt stone cold sober, he started talking about the game, and who the Angels were playing next and league positions and Adele responded in a friendly interested manner, and they continued in this vein until Murdock arrived to pick Face up.

________________________________

Eight hours after Face and Murdock had left, Adele was once again sitting on the terrace, this time pushing her scrambled eggs around on her plate and thinking back over the night before. It was frustrating to have been so close to making some real progress with Danny, only to have it all slip away from her again at the last. She’d planned so carefully as well, spent so long in thinking about what he would want from a mother, what would be the way to get under his skin, and there it was, she’d found it. He’d wanted a buddy-mom, someone he could hang out with, drink beers, talk girls and baseball. So that’s what she had done, that’s who she had been and there he’d opened, right in front of her like a precious little flower, the petals no one had ever seen before. Or so she thought.

It had felt like he was there, right in the palm of her hand. But when she’d closed her fingers, ready to spring the trap that would have him signing all that money over to her he’d come out with that comment about Hannibal. For a second that had thrown her; the way that he’d said ‘Hannibal’ had sounded so - reverent - as if it were the most precious word in the world, as if he actually loved his commanding officer...

But then he’d clarified the situation and that had made more sense to Adele. Of course the lonely boy who’d grown up without a family would seize on the friends around him like this. And now they were running from the law the way they were, he was right, he had no hope of a ‘normal’ existence, a regular girlfriend, so it made sense for him to fixate on his team like he had.

Adele frowned as she watched the waiter refill her coffee. There had to be a way she could use these revelations to her advantage, there must be a way to get around his natural greed and get her hands on that money. She knew that Silas wouldn’t give her much more time, and she would be damned before she let him take this victory away from her.

If there is even a victory still to be had... a little voice inside her head whispered. She thought back to Murdock’s comment about how if Face had the money then he would gladly pay just to get rid of her. That made her uneasy. Why would Murdock say such a thing unless he there really was no money or maybe he knew what Adele was after and was just trying to throw her off the scent? That made no sense though, if Murdock knew what she was doing then why hadn’t he warned Danny off? He’d made no secret of his intentions with regard to her presence, so surely he wouldn’t wait if he knew? But that only left the fact that there really and truly was no money and Silas was so sure... Unless they had spent it of course. But what on?

Adele rubbed her brow and sipped her coffee and decided to leave that conundrum for another day. What was much, much more pressing at this moment in time was Murdock’s threats and the very real possibility that he could find holes in her story and point them out to Danny which would have the whole team, and their money, running for the hills. What she needed was a way to get Murdock out of the picture for a while, make sure that he was in no position to threaten her. She thought hard as she watched the pool attendant sift dead leaves from the surface of the pool and reviewed what she knew about the man from Eddie’s research, what, if anything, she could use against him. And then, there it was, a beautiful shining bauble of opportunity and she smiled to herself. Oh, yes, Captain Murdock wouldn’t know what had hit him at all, not one little bit. She would teach him not to mess with Adele Armando...

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Silas Pike adjusted his expensive shades and settled down in his car, prepared for a long, long wait. He could see Adele Armando from where he had parked his car up on the side of the road, but not her companion. He knew it was Peck though, it had to be, and it made him both edgy and excited to know that tonight could see the end of his long awaited culmination of his plans.

He had never been that close to his brother, Brock was the typical oldest child, thought he knew everything, resented Silas hanging around, took every opportunity to humiliate him in front of his friends, but that had all changed once Silas had followed him into the army, stayed in Spec Ops while Brock had left to work for Black Forest. Then, suddenly he was a useful ally, with his contacts and his information, for the first time in his life, Brock actually valued him for something and Silas loved it.

Then Brock told him of his plans, about these printing plates, and how, after he'd got hold of them and then sold them on, he was going to set up in business somewhere, casinos maybe, import/export perhaps, and he wanted Silas to come and work with him. For him had been the actual phrase, but Silas knew that’s not really what would have happened, he was the one with a college degree in business, Brock had joined up at seventeen, their parents only too pleased to get him and his temper out of their house. Silas knew that together, they would have made an impressive team.

But that’s not quite what happened. Somehow, even though Silas had fulfilled his part of the deal and quit the army, started looking around for the right ‘opportunity’ for them to buy into, the whole business with the plates had blown up, literally, along with half of LA docks, and Brock had vanished off the face of the earth.

At first Silas had blamed that little CIA weasel, Lynch, and had set out to track him down. Six months it had taken him and then, when they had had the chance for their little ‘chat’; Lynch had told him something very interesting indeed.

Seems that Lynch hadn’t cut Brock out of the deal at all, had actually retrieved him from DOD custody and brought him back into play. Then, when the container ship had docked in LA, the plan had all gone to hell thanks to Smith and his team, all the players had scattered, Brock had gone after Peck, Lynch had seen him, hunting the bastard down between the fallen containers strewn over the dockside, but then, the unthinkable. When all the dust had cleared and Lynch had been taken into CIA custody for ‘de-briefing’ he’d heard that Brock was dead, his neck broken, killed by the bare hands of someone trained that way, a Ranger. Templeton fucking Peck. It was at that moment, that Silas’ plan had changed.

He let Lynch go, the CIA had him on a pretty spiky leash anyway, there was nothing he could do for Silas and vice versa, and instead turned his attention to Peck.

It wasn’t at all easy, the damn A-Team as they called themselves were as slippery as a Vaselined eel, and every time he thought he’d got close, they were off again, disappearing into nothing once more. He needed a way in, a guaranteed back door that wouldn’t set off all their alarms, and then, in his searching, he’d stumbled across Eddie Charring.

Eddie was a third rate private detective who had been hired by Adele Armando to permanently erase any link between herself and Templeton Peck. Silas was intrigued, and when he’d investigated further, he just couldn’t believe his luck, she was his mother, his actual, real life, honest to god, mother. But, and here was the first problem, she wanted absolutely nothing to do with her long lost son.

Silas dug a little deeper and found out some very interesting facts that explained just why. Three years previously, Adele had married Nari Armando, investment millionaire, who had promptly died after six months of marriage. Of course Adele was his sole beneficiary, he had recently amended his will to leave her everything, not a penny for his two sons and their families who had helped him run the business for years, or even his ex-wife who was in ill health. Everything for Adele, and so, obviously, the family had contested the will.

Silas had never quite managed to find out the ins and outs of the proceedings, but he did know that all Nari’s assets had been frozen and Adele given a very paltry allowance to live on while the case was worked out in the courts. He also discovered that the Armando boys had some fairly weighty evidence on their side and lots of influential friends. Talking to Luca Armando, Silas had actually heard the man promise that he would not rest well at night until he got every one of his father’s dollars away from ‘that woman’.

So, no wonder Adele was trying to bury her relationship to Peck under ten tonnes of concrete; being the mother of a notorious escaped convict would hardly do her reputation any good in such times of uncertainty. But that’s not what Silas wanted at all, oh no, he wanted her to embrace her once abandoned son, to draw him out of hiding so that Silas could execute his plot. He needed to persuade her, and obviously family ties were not going to work, so what was? Well, even without ever meeting her, he knew exactly what would have her eating out of his hand – money. Now all he had to do was work out exactly how much she would need to be promised in order to basically pull a con on her only child. Silas had taken a gamble on ten million dollars, any more and it might look too good to be true, but she had agreed so readily he knew he could have actually gone quite a bit lower.

And now she was on board, and so, unfortunately, was that fool Charring. But they had managed to locate Peck, and, even better, tonight, get him away from the rest of his damn team. All Silas had to do now was wait for Adele to leave, and then he would make his move. Tonight Brock’s murder would be avenged and Silas really couldn’t wait.

__________________________

The internet was a wonderful thing, and one that Murdock used regularly and for all sorts of reasons. He had a blog for starters, anonymous of course, his alias being ‘Sky Surfer’ and in it he blogged about a wide range of topics, the type of things that threatened to get him all wound up inside. He found that if he wrote them down or talked about them, then they weren’t too bad anymore, they didn’t try and fry his brain quite so much, and in order to save the rest of the team from his more random ramblings, he often chose to write them down. Over the past month he’d blogged about alien abductions, why there is always so much dust at the bottom of the cereal bag, whether or not it was actually possible to roll a helicopter in mid-air and how come you can buy pineapple jello mix when everyone knows that pineapples stop jello from setting. He had quite a few people who regularly checked back and commented on his blog. Lucy’s Mum101, who he imagined was a lovely dark haired thirty something in Detroit, Del Boy, who just had to be a fifty something from London, Skipper, who either stayed up all night to post or lived in Australia and Scipio who Murdock knew damn well was Face even though he’d never admitted to it.

In addition to blogging, he thought that the internet was great for shopping, especially those harder to find Lego sets and T-shirts with the classier logos on them, recipes, keeping up with the lives of old buddies on Facebook (even though he didn’t have his own account), reading classy fan fiction and, of course, tracking down imaginary doctors who were listed on obviously forged medical documents.

After three hours of meticulous research, Murdock was quite convinced that none of the ‘Dr. Anthony Prowitt’s' that he had found on line were the one who had signed Adele’s original letter of diagnosis; one was retired, one a specialist in male impotence in Quebec and one dead. He was also secure in the belief that St. Mary’s Hospital in New York City, whilst most certainly existing, had not only never had an employee called Dr. Anthony Prowitt, but, in being centre for paediatric care, had never had Adele Armando through its doors as a patient, either.

He went off to get himself a coffee and as he watched the milk slowly circulate in his pan, he thought about his next move. Whilst the efforts of this afternoon had proved without doubt that Adele’s records were manufactured, what they hadn’t proved was that she was definitely not dying of leukaemia. That was his next step, and for that, Sky Surfer had to be prepared to do some serious hacking.

____________________________

Silas sat up straight and watched with mounting tension as Peck and Adele slowly walked along the pavement towards his parked car. Adele was talking, her hands gesturing as she spoke but Peck wasn’t looking. His face, hidden by the peak of his cap, was pointing down at the ground, his entire posture screaming of tension. Eventually they stopped next to a taxi that had arrived only moments before they appeared and Silas watched with baited breath, hoping that Peck wouldn’t climb in with his mother.

It must have been Silas’ day, as with a clumsy kiss on his mother’s artfully presented cheek, Peck turned and walked back down towards the entrance to the bar, not turning to look as the taxi peeled away and headed back from the coast. Silas continue to watch carefully as Peck climbed up to sit on the fence just along from the entrance, checking his phone briefly as he did and then settling down with his eyes on the top of the road where his mother’s taxi had just disappeared.

Silas was in motion almost immediately; it was obvious that Peck was waiting for a lift, and so he knew that he had to make his move immediately before whichever team member it was turned up and spoiled his plans. He checked his gun, examined the suppressor carefully and then slid it into his suit pocket, the one he’d had made with the hidden flap in the front, perfect for keeping the lengthened barrel hidden but still very much in use.

He slid from the car and set off at a measured pace towards Peck, hand securely around the butt of his gun, finger on the trigger and his plan clear in his mind. This was not about a quick bullet into the head, oh, no, most certainly not. If it had been he would never have needed Adele, could have hidden on any number of rooftops and shot Peck through the eyes without even raising a sweat. No, this was about much, much more than that, and the gun was only a tool at this stage, just something to persuade Peck that he really needed to get into the back seat of the car with Silas. Once they were there, the hypodermic needle, duct tape and picnic blankets would do the rest of the job, just until Silas had driven back to his carefully prepared warehouse site, and that’s when the fun could really start.

But he was no fool here, Silas knew damn well that Peck was dangerous, hell, he had to be if he had managed to better Brock in hand to hand combat. So, if there was any trouble, any at all, then Silas would use the gun, three silent shots to the stomach he figured would do it and then he would turn away and leave Peck to bleed out all over the sidewalk. Maybe not quite as satisfying as Plan A, but it would suffice.

He looked up at his target who was still perched on the fence, idly toying with his phone as he continued to stare up at the road and Silas took a deep calming breath as he approached the twenty meter mark. He could see it all in his head exactly as it would play out, how he would pretend to be walking on by, but then feint in at the last second, let Peck feel the gun in his gut and they would turn back to walk up to Silas’ car looking to the whole world as if they were just two mates heading back home after beers on the beach. If Peck protested and tried something stupid, or if his lift arrived before they’d reached the safety of the car, then Plan B would come into action immediately. Silas could already feel the solid thump of the recoil as the gun spoke silently from his pocket, one, two three, times, see the look of stunned horror on Peck’s face as he realised he’d been shot, even feel the heat of the blood as it rushed to leave its host. Beautiful.

Ten meters, and the door to the Bar opened but Silas ignored it, no one would see anything suspicious here, he needed to stick with his plan and get Peck back to his car before the cavalry arrived.

“Oh, hey! Hi!” Despite his focus, Silas jumped at the voice and frowned in annoyance as the waitress from the beach suddenly appeared at Peck’s side, looking annoyingly delighted to see him sitting there as she pulled a thin jacket on over her work clothes, Silas slowed his pace, hoping she would disappear just as quickly as she had arrived and kept on walking.

“Talia, hi,” Peck smiled the type of stupid grin that girls always seemed to find enticing and Silas felt his dislike of the man grow exponentially.

“You not gone with your mom then?” the waitress asked and Silas cursed her to hell as he now had to walk past them both, knowing his window of opportunity was closing all the while.

“Nope,” Peck replied, stupid smile still firmly in place, “waiting for my buddy to pick me up.”

“Oh.”

Silas frowned at the crestfallen expression on the girl’s face as he walked out of ear shot and then turned, pretending to stand and watch the waves whilst surreptitiously watching Peck and the girl out of the corner of his eye. Their conversation dragged on as his impatience grew and he could feel his trigger finger itching to get this over and done with. He was just wondering if it would be too obvious to shoot them both where they stood when a beaten up old Chevy pulled up alongside Peck and he saw him slide down from the fence, smiling apologetically at the disappointed looking waitress as he went. Silas stood and tried not to glare as Peck opened the passenger door and climbed in, raising a hand in farewell as the Chevy pulled off immediately, did a neat three point turn and disappeared back up the hill taking his quarry with it, but it was hard, almost as hard as sliding the safety catch back onto his gun as he turned and headed back to his car.

______________________________

Hannibal had been pleased when he’d first seen Face perched on the fence as he drove down towards the beach. He’d been on tenterhooks the whole time Face had been with Adele, worrying about the state he would be in when Hannibal got him back, but as soon as he saw him, sitting there in the sun, flirting with the girl standing at his side, Hannibal relaxed.

But then Face had climbed into the car, letting out the world’s longest breath and tipped his head back in the seat, eyes closed and silent. Hannibal flicked him a concerned glance as he turned the car, and then they were on their way, the quiet like an oppressive blanket around them.

“You okay?” Hannibal finally asked into the silence, adding a, “How’d it go?” when Face hadn’t answered.

“Alright,” Face muttered, eyes still shut tight.

“Did you talk about...?” Hannibal trailed off, uneasy about how to phrase his question.

“The dying business?” Face offered, “Yeah, we did.

“And?”

At last Face turned and looked at Hannibal, his eyes tired and a headache just building at his temple. “And she said she never thought to renew the insurance when her husband died and that there are treatments available but only at a hugely prohibitive cost. She can’t afford them, so the docs have told her she has about three months left that’s all.”

The silence fell once again as Hannibal let all that information swirl around in his head while Face closed his eyes once more.

“Shit, kid, three months, that sucks...” he eventually muttered.

“Yeah,” Face agreed. “I said I would look into some things for her, see what I could do.”

Hannibal frowned, “What sort of things?” he asked quietly and watched as Face shrugged in the corner of his vision.

“You know, fake i.ds, that sort of thing.”

They slipped into silence as Hannibal crawled through the busy streets, his mind in a whirl. “Face,” he asked eventually, carefully, “Has she asked you for anything?”

Face cracked an eye at him, “Asked me for something?” he frowned back at Hannibal’s expression, “No. Why would she?”

Hannibal fixed his eyes on the road, “No reason,” he muttered but Face continued to stare at the side of his head.

“You think all of this is just because she wants something from me?” he asked.

“No,” Hannibal replied instantly, wishing he’d never started this, “of course not, forget I said it.”

Face thought for a moment. “You do,” he insisted. “And what have I possibly got that she would ever be interested in?” Hannibal remained silent, “She’s dying, boss, how can I help her with that?”

Hannibal reached across and squeezed Face’s thigh through his jeans, “I’m sorry, kid,” he said as sincerely as he could. “Forget it, I was just thinking out loud.”

Face looked at Hannibal for a second longer before turning away, closing his eyes and lapsing into silence once more while Hannibal looked out at the road as his mind continued to churn around the different possibilities he could see.

“Are you seeing her again?” Hannibal tentatively asked after another five minutes of driving.

“Yeah,” Face sighed, “tomorrow night. She seemed fairly keen so I tried to put her off, told her I was going to the Angels game with Murdock.”

Hannibal looked over at his still closed eyes.

“And?”

“She said that was okay, she liked baseball and she would come too.” Face replied flatly.

“Oh.” Hannibal said, unsure how else to reply and went back to his driving. Adele at the baseball game was hard to imagine. Something about all of this just didn’t sit right and he was very keen to see if Murdock had come up with anything concrete in those medical notes. It was infuriating, the way he knew Adele was lying, but couldn’t for the life of him work out why she would do that. It was a riddle he didn’t have the answer to and the whole situation was as frustrating as all hell. Perhaps that was why he didn’t see the black Cadillac four cars back that was following their every turn...

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Affirmation

A Mother's Love - Chapter Thirty Nine - Final Chapter

A Mother's Love - Chapter Thirty Seven

A Mother's Love - Chapter Thirty Six

A Mother's Love - Chapter Thirty Five

A Mother's Love - Part Thirty Four

A Mother's Love - Part Thirty Three

A Mother's Love - Part Thirty Two

A Mother's Love - Part Thirty One

A Mother's Love - Part Thirty

A Mother's Love - Part Twenty Nine

A Mother's Love - Part Twenty Eight

A Mother's Love - Part Twenty Seven

A Mother's Love - Part Twenty Six

A Mother's Love - Part Twenty Five

A Mother's Love - Part Twenty Four

A Mother's Love - Part Twenty Three

A Mother's Love - Part Twenty Two

A Mother's Love - Part Twenty One