Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The apartment wasn’t huge, but it was a decent size. A great view out over Central Park, a balcony that was just about large enough to jam a chair on as long as you didn’t mind your legs rammed up against the low wall, one bedroom, one bathroom. But the bedroom did have a queen sized bed, and the bathroom did have a sunken tub, so you certainly couldn’t complain.

Not that the current occupier was much interested in any of that at the moment, she was far too engrossed in the Fox News Special that was playing on her flat screen TV. It wasn’t the type of program she would ever consider watching normally, but as she’d flicked through the channels, a face had caught her eye and she’d paused. A smiling man, maybe mid thirties, bright, bright blue eyes, army uniform - handsome just didn’t begin to cover it. So she had sat back, curious, wondering what it was about that particular handsome face that had caught her eye.

It wasn’t like she didn’t have her own stream of handsome faces through this very apartment, through her bed, so why that one? He was towards the younger end of her preferred spectrum, but certainly not too young, she may well be in her fifties, but she knew she could still pull them in, and she would certainly like to pull that one in if she could.

She watched for a few minutes longer, her attention wandering as the focus of the program shifted to another man, a Texan, wild look in his eyes, and she realised that she was actually watching a feature on escaped felons, certainly not something she would be interested in and so snapped the TV off, heading to the bathroom to get ready for her night out.

__________________

It was hours later when it came to her. She honestly hadn’t given the good looking man from the TV a second thought as she’d been wined and dined in one of New York’s fanciest restaurants. Obviously she’d not thought about him as her date for the evening rode in her taxi on the way back to her apartment, his hand creeping further and further up her knee with every passing block. And of course, he was the furthest thing from her mind as the evening came to its usual carnal end in her bed, although maybe if she had remembered him at the right time, her orgasm might have been a little more impressive.

As it was, however, it was as her date was snoring next to her and she was finally starting to drift off herself, that a sudden and rather startling thought popped into her head. She hadn’t been thinking of the handsome man from Fox News, she hadn’t even been thinking of handsome men in general; no, her thoughts had run on to her hair appointment the following afternoon and whether or not she should get her nails done at the same time when suddenly it was there.

Those blue eyes abruptly appeared in her mind’s eye and she only had a very brief moment to admire them before she realised why she’d been so taken with them, where she’d seen them before. She tensed in the bed, suddenly too hot and too cold all at the same time, her heart thumping and her dinner churning uncomfortably in her stomach. She sat up, holding her head in her hands as the realisation of what this meant hit her with the force of a steam train. Mental arithmetic had never been her strong point, but even through the shock and the wine she could do this math very easily.

For the first time in thirty years she wished for a photograph, something she could check up against, maybe put her mind at rest, but deep down, she knew she didn’t need one. She just knew. She shook her head, shaking now, wishing she was alone, and knew she needed to know for definite the facts of this unpleasant situation she found herself in. Adverse publicity could come so easily through this, and really, given her circumstances, that was the last thing she needed. If the facts were what she suspected them to be, she would have to take action to cover her tracks, could not do with her past coming up to haunt her now.

She lay awake as the night wore on, and by the morning had a plan. She hoped her old friend Eddie Charing was still in the Private Detective business, she needed to call in a favour.

_____________________________________________

Los Angeles, four months later...

“You sure about this bossman?” BA himself wasn’t at all sure, the whole thing just felt wrong, exposed, Hannibal walking into a meet like that completely on his own, no back up... wrong on every level.

Hannibal sighed but managed to crack a smile for his corporal, “I’ve told you big guy, it will be fine. If it was a set up, then the army would be after more than just me, right? They’d want us all. It’s fine.”

BA shook his head, less than convinced.

“And anyway,” Hannibal leaned forward in his seat for a better look at the cafe across the street, “I’ve got a wire on, and you’ve got my back right?”

BA shook his head again and folded his arms.

“We’re on,” Hannibal’s voice was suddenly all business, “that’s her. Everything working okay?”

BA swivelled his seat around and fitted a pair of headphones on over his ears, giving Hannibal a thumbs up as he flicked a couple of switches and turned a dial. Hannibal clapped him on the back, and then opened the door, stepping out into the bright morning sunshine.

As he walked across the road with one eye on the slow rush hour traffic, he took the opportunity to weigh up his appointment for the morning. She was, at this very moment, looking in a compact mirror, and touching up her hair and makeup. He shook his head, it was 8.15am, how long had she had that makeup on? Surely she wasn’t in desperate need of touch up yet? He figured her for late forties; she was certainly striking, nice figure, blonde shoulder length hair, soft curls catching the sunlight. But there was something, maybe the way she held herself, maybe the way she was still looking in that damn mirror, that made him uneasy.

She looked up as he entered the terrace, recognition in her grey eyes at once and she finally snapped the mirror shut, slipping it into her purse and rising smoothly to her feet, one perfectly manicured hand reaching out for his.

Hannibal shook it, surprised at the strength of that hold, and slid into the seat opposite her watching her every move, despite his assurances to BA, hyper aware of the possibility of this being a trap.

“Colonel Smith, so good of you to come, and alone as I had requested. I’m so grateful.”

Hannibal nodded as he helped himself to coffee from the carafe she had pushed his way. “Ms. Armando. This is not the way I usually do business and so I would appreciate you getting to point very quickly.”

He noted the flash of anger as it crossed her face, but within a second it was gone, a smooth mask of politeness in its place. “Of course. You are a busy man, and I appreciate that someone in your position can never be too careful.”

She took a sip of black coffee and Hannibal took the opportunity to study her more carefully. She was beautiful, perfectly balanced features, wide expressive eyes, but up close he could see that she was older than he had first assumed, maybe early to mid fifties, but no evidence of any cosmetic work done – almost unheard of in a woman of her age in Los Angeles. Naturally beautiful. “So?” he prompted her again.

Placing her cup gently down on its saucer she sighed and studied the table cloth for a long minute before eventually looking back up and Hannibal was startled to see tears standing in her eyes. “Colonel Smith,” she said at last in a quiet, faltering voice, “I’m afraid I haven’t been exactly honest with you...”

In his mind’s eye, Hannibal could see BA back in the van, flicking the safety off his gun and getting ready to storm to Hannibal’s rescue, the ‘told you so’ already forming on his lips. He let out an irritated sigh. “You don't want to hire us?”

“No,” she admitted quietly and Hannibal started to stand up. “But wait!” that perfectly manicured hand was out again, reaching for his wrist, “I do need your help!” He paused, half out of his seat and looked into her wide grey eyes, swimming in tears. He sighed, it was obvious that whatever was going on, she was certainly upset by it all; he made his decision and slowly sat back down again. “Thank you,” she whispered and dabbed delicately at the corners of her eyes with a linen handkerchief before reaching into her purse and pulling out a photograph.

She looked at it for a minute, holding it where Hannibal couldn’t see it, smiling at whatever she saw, one finger reaching out and touching the face in front of her before she seemed to realise that Hannibal was still there and she made a visible effort to pull herself together, sitting up straighter and placing the photo on the table, sliding it over towards Hannibal. “I think you know this man,” she said, just the slightest tremor noticeable in her voice.

Hannibal glanced down and felt his stomach twist as he found himself looking at Face. The picture was about two years old, taken just before the damn plates debacle, Face looking confident and relaxed in his dress uniform, one of the photographs that had been circulated to the press on their escape.

“His name is Daniel Arthur Ellis,” she said and Hannibal looked back up in confusion. Their eyes met. “He’s my son.”

The silence stretched into long minutes as Hannibal looked at the picture in his hands and then back up at the woman in front of him. It was definitely there, he could certainly see it, the resemblance between them. It wasn’t at all striking but now he’d had it pointed out, it was certainly a possibility, the shape of their eyes, skin tone, even hair colour, similar enough to make them related, not that Hannibal looked like either of his parents mind you. But it was more than any of that, more than anything specific. It was the way that they both had this... luminescence about them, something that made them noticed as soon as they walked into a room. Face had it, it had grabbed Hannibal’s attention the second the kid had stepped off the troop carrier in the Kuwaiti desert, and Adele Armando had it as well, Hannibal had already logged all the stares she was getting as she sat and sipped her coffee, watching him carefully.

“How do I know you are telling the truth?” Hannibal eventually replied, impressed with the steadiness of his voice.

Adele held his eyes, “Why would I lie, Colonel Smith? What possible motive would I have to align myself with a federal fugitive? What could I hope to gain by admitting that my son, my own flesh and blood, is a convicted criminal?”

Hannibal stiffened, “He’s done nothing wrong except stay free. We were framed.”

“I know,” Adele soothed him. “You have no need to convince me, but that’s what the world will think, isn’t it? He’s hardly catch of the day,” she caught Hannibal’s frown, “In the eyes of the world, of course, not in mine.”

He watched her carefully, weighing her up. “So, you don’t have any proof?”

She shook her head, sadness etched across her features. “I have nothing at all of his, not even a photograph; I had to leave it all behind just as I left him,” the handkerchief was out once more, dabbing at her eyes.

Remaining unmoved, Hannibal folded his arms, “Perhaps you’d like to tell me about that time then? Why you left in the first place?”

Hard grey eyes lifted to his, “If it is all the same with you, Colonel Smith, I would prefer to have that conversation with Danny.”

Again that twist in his stomach and Hannibal looked down at the photograph in front of him, Danny... His eyes flicked back up. “And yet you asked to see me, alone, and not Face, so why was that?”

Adele looked down at the wedding ring she was twisting around and around her finger as she answered him, “I know this will be a shock to him, having me turn up like this, after not seeing him for so long. I bet he hardly remembers me...”

’He doesn’t remember you at all,’ Hannibal wanted to say, but he knew he had to keep what little information there was about Face’s past close to his chest; if she was an imposter then it would make it that much easier to spot. “And so where do I come into this then?” he asked again.

“I was hoping you would smooth the way for me,” she said, her eyes, pleading now as they locked with his. “You were his commanding officer in the army, if you told him to do something, I’m sure he still would.”

Hannibal frowned, “I won’t be telling him to do anything. He’s a grown man; if anything happens here it will be down to him!”

Adele looked suitably shamefaced, “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just still so hard to think of him as anything more than the little boy I left behind.”

Taking a deep breath to damp down his anger, Hannibal tried again. “Look, Ms Armando,”

“It’s actually Mrs., but please, call me Adele,”

“Adele,” Hannibal corrected, “Face is part of my team, and due to our current situation, we tend to stick up for each other, watch each other’s backs.”

“Of course, and I’m just so glad that Danny has people like that who can look out for him.”

“And so,” Hannibal continued, “I won’t be relaying any of this meeting to him, unless you can give me one thing that makes me think you are in the slightest bit genuine.”

That flash of anger was there again, hastily hidden once more. “Alright,” she conceded, eyes on the table, “what do you want?”

Hannibal leant in, “Some facts,” he replied. “Nothing in depth, nothing you would want to save to talk to Face about, just something that makes me believe your story.”

Her eyes met his once more and they looked at each other for thirty seconds without speaking. Eventually, Adele sighed. “I had Danny when I was eighteen. I was unmarried and the two of us lived in Los Angeles for a while.”

She stopped and took a mouthful of coffee as Hannibal waited in silence for her to continue. “But then I had a change of circumstance...”

“A change of circumstance?” Hannibal asked, one eyebrow raised at her.

“Yes!” she snapped, twisting her ring again.

“And so?”

A long sigh reached him from the other side of the table, “So, I left him at a Catholic Orphanage in downtown LA and left town. I haven’t been back since.”

Silence fell as Hannibal sat stunned, absorbed how the entire story of Face’s early years could be condensed in to four sentences by the woman claiming to be his mother; he doubted there were many mothers on the planet who could have done that as efficiently – and coldly.

“Which Orphanage?” he asked shortly.

“Our Lady of the Sacred Heart Orphanage on Tylery Road.”

Now Hannibal frowned, that wasn’t the orphanage where Face grew up, but then he knew that the kid had moved around a fair bit to begin with so that didn’t really disprove anything. “How old was he?”

“Four and a half,” Adele answered immediately and although she dabbed at her eyes once more, Hannibal couldn’t help noticing the steadiness to her voice.

“And...” Hannibal wasn’t sure how to phrase this next question, “did he talk?”

For the first time in their meeting, Adele looked slightly wrong footed, “Did he talk? Of course he talked, all the damn time,” she offered up a tight smile, “I have already told you he was coming up five; I appreciate your interaction with children must be limited Colonel, but five year olds talk.”

Hannibal took a mouthful of coffee, ‘Not this one,’ he thought to himself. Father Maghill had told Hannibal once that Face hadn’t uttered a single word until he’d been in the orphanage system for just over a year. The staff had worried that he was mute, but one day, completely out of the blue, he just started talking once more. But by then, of course, he couldn’t remember anything of his previous life, not even his name. He looked down at the photograph in front of him again, Daniel Arthur Ellis; he had to admit, it suited him.

Silence spread over the table as Hannibal considered the information overload he’d been subjected to in the last twenty minutes. Did he believe her or not? What she’d said was true, what was there to gain from inventing a relationship to an almost penniless fugitive of the law? What could she possibly reap from making a claim like this erroneously?

“So why now?” Hannibal asked. “You left him with nothing, never came back for him. Why now?”

“I did not leave him with nothing.” The spite in her voice was surprising. “I made sure he had everything he could possibly have wanted, people who would clothe him, feed him, send him to school.”

“Everything but a family to love him,” Hannibal interjected smoothly and if he’d been concerned at all about upsetting Adele, he needn’t have worried as that anger was back, not hidden away this time.

“Families aren’t all they are cracked up to be, Colonel Smith. I have managed just fine without one and so has he.”

Biting back the retort that Hannibal really wanted to make, about how the hell she would know the first thing about how Face had managed, he instead prompted, “So, why now?”

Adele glanced down and the handkerchief was back as were the tears. “Just because I never went back, doesn’t mean I didn’t think about him, every single day we were apart. Birthdays, Christmas, Mother’s Day, they were always the worst...” she trailed off into a sob and Hannibal realised that, yet again, his question had remained unanswered.

“So why now?” he repeated.

Adele heaved a sigh and went back to her eye dabbing. “Because I thought he was better off without me. I was a danger to him, and he didn’t need me coming into his life, disrupting it all.” A slight smile quirked the corner of her mouth, “I’d always thought he was going to be clever, would go to college, be a doctor or a scientist, something like that,” the smile dropped slightly. “I never dreamed he would join the army, end up in prison and then on the run...” she shook her head, “My own son, I’d always hoped he would turn into something brilliant.”

Hannibal had had to force himself to stay quiet during that little speech, but now she had finished, his mouth could not be controlled any longer. “He is brilliant,” he whispered, his own edge of anger to the words, “at anything and everything he does. Any woman should be proud to have him as her son.”

“Oh, you misunderstand me!” Adele countered, her eyes wide and injured, “I am proud of him, very, very proud. But that’s why I am contacting him now. I’d always thought he was better off without me, but now I see what has happened to his life,” she shook her head sadly, “well, now I know he needs me now, more than ever before. That’s why I’ve come back.”

Again Hannibal mulled this over, watching this woman in front of him and realised that his mind had already been made up, she was either the most gifted con woman he had ever met, or she was indeed Face’s mother. And knowing Face, both might actually be true.

Adele had been watching him back, waiting for that little sign in his face that she now thought she saw. “You believe me,” she said, smiling warmly at him,” I’m so pleased. Does that mean you will now arrange a meeting for us?”

Pushing away his coffee cup, Hannibal leaned over the table towards her, pressing his fingers together. “I will talk to him,” he replied, “I will tell him what you have told me, and I will suggest a meeting to him. That’s all I will do. And if he says no,” he shrugged, “he says no.”

“Well that would be a shame,” Adele responded. “I thought he would like to have a family again after all this time. I’m a widow now, but my husband had children of his own and now they too have children, there is an entire instant family out there - just waiting for him.”

Hannibal leant back, “He’s a grown man,” he repeated, “can make his own decisions.”

Adele looked at him for a moment, and Hannibal could almost see the cogs in her mind turning. “Okay, then,” she eventually answered, “I will leave it in your more than capable hands.” She stood smoothly from her seat and held her hand out once more, “Pleasure to meet you.”

Rising slightly as well, Hannibal shook the proffered hand firmly, “I’ll be in touch,” he promised and she nodded slightly before turning and walking out of the terrace, admiring glances following her the entire way.

Hannibal watched until she was out of sight and then lifted his coffee cup to hide his mouth as he spoke, “You coming over here, BA?”

The waiter came by to ask if Hannibal wanted more coffee, he declined but ordered a glass of cold milk and asked for the bill.

“Oh, it’s fine sir,” the waiter told him. “The lady you were with left more than enough to cover the coffee and the milk, could bring you a whole plate of Danish pastries as well if you want?”

Shaking his head, Hannibal managed to damp down his frown and thanked him, looking up as BA; his own forehead creased in thought, came in and slid into the seat recently vacated by Adele.

“Well?” Hannibal asked after BA had had a mouthful of milk.

BA shook his head, “Well, it sure is a bolt from the blue, Hannibal, but,” he looked up, his dark eyes full of compassion, “how desperate must she have been to have to leave her little baby like that, huh?”

Hannibal looked out across the road. He didn’t know how to answer that question, the truth was she hadn’t said she was desperate at all; ‘a change of circumstance’ was how she had described it. Hell, that could have been anything, anything at all. Did it really warrant leaving her dependent child with strangers like that? Abandoning him at the door of an orphanage in the middle of the night – how could anything justify that?

“I don’t know BA; she was hardly forthcoming with her reasons.”

“It’s private man!” BA responded, wiping his milk moustache away. “She’ll tell Face, aint nothing to do with us.”

Staring into his coffee, Hannibal thought about that. Face was his soul mate, he firmly believed that. From the second he first set eyes on him, he knew they were destined to be together, it was like nothing he had ever felt before. And he was right. Within three months Face was in his heart and in his bed and that’s how it had stayed ever since. He knew that Face had fooled around before, slept with plenty of people, both male and female, but for Hannibal, Face was his one and only journey into same sex relationships; he’d never even considered it until he’d set eyes on this man.

They had the closest, most honest relationship of any that Hannibal had ever known. Hannibal knew all about him, knew the things that made him tick and the things that brought him down. Only he knew how much his childhood abandonment had hurt, just how much it had blighted his life every single moment since that fateful day just before his fifth birthday. So, this woman turning up now, how much of that was his business? And how much was Face’s alone?

“Look, boss,” BA had been watching him, “It’s Face’s business, but that don’t mean he aint gonna talk about it with you, huh? Doesn’t mean you can’t help him sort it out.”

Hannibal smiled, “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

“So, when you gonna tell him?”

Pushing his coffee cup away, Hannibal had that look on his face that BA recognised. “Tonight,” he answered unfolding his napkin on the table top, “As soon as we have had the chance to visit your friendly neighbourhood lab technician, right?”

BA watched as Hannibal wrapped Adele’s cup in his napkin and stuffed it into his pocket getting to his feet as BA drained the last of his milk and followed him.

_______________________

It was early evening before Face and Murdock got back from the beach both smelling of sun cream, with salt encrusted hair and bodies covered in scrapes and bruises from their surf boards.

Face dumped a pile of pizza boxes in the kitchen as Murdock took the boards off the roof of the car and with a yell of, “Don’t you greedy pigs dare eat all that pizza before I get out of the shower!” disappeared upstairs.

BA looked up from the radio he was repairing as Hannibal turned from the History Channel and their eyes met, “After pizza,” Hannibal told him quietly.

________________________

Pizza was a rowdy affair; Murdock was telling tales of their surfing exploits which just got more and more ludicrous as the night wore on. Face, his hand on Hannibal’s thigh under the table, laughed along and agreed with some of the more incredible stories while constantly encouraging Murdock to be more ridiculous with each tale. “Oh, HM, what about that bald guy! Tell them what he said when you asked if he polished his board with soap...!”

________________________

It was past midnight by the time the pizzas and the beers were finished. Murdock and Face were all for setting up the Xbox in the living room and having a ‘Lips’ tournament, but BA and Hannibal managed to talk them out of it. In the end BA volunteered that both he and Murdock would tidy up, so Hannibal and Face could have an early night.

Face, never one to question getting out of chores, disappeared up the stairs in two seconds flat while Murdock watched BA and Hannibal exchange a long meaningful glance before Hannibal too turned and trudged up the stairs. Murdock followed the boss with his eyes until he disappeared onto the landing and then turned to BA, eyes narrowed in thought.

________________________

The morning dawned bright and sunny and Murdock was out in the garden, hosing down the surfboards and wondering how the first meet for their new job had gone yesterday with BA and Hannibal. It was weird that the boss hadn’t mentioned it at all last night while they were having their pizzas, but then he supposed he and Face were a little hyper; it had been difficult to get a word in edgeways.

Smiling to himself, Murdock thought back to the day at the beach; it had been truly awesome. He’d been disappointed at first that Hannibal and BA had decided not to come, Hannibal had this job thing to go to and when Face’s expression dropped at the thought of cancelling their planned day out, BA had manfully stepped up and offered Hannibal his company. But, on reflection, Murdock conceded, he and Face had probably had much more fun just the two of them on their own – BA and Hannibal could be such stick-in-the-muds sometimes. Speaking of which – Murdock looked up at the sound of voices, raised voices, coming from the kitchen, and switched off the hose to go and investigate.

_________________________

“I’ll tell him when I think it’s the right time!” Hannibal said, clearly struggling to hold on to his patience.

“But that aint for you to decide!” BA snapped back. “The man’s got a right to know, a right to decide what he is going to do about it himself!”

“BA, I think I know him just a little better than you do...”

“Yeah?” BA crossed his arms and Hannibal sighed, “Thing is though, I know you still count yourself as his CO, but sometimes I think you forget you don’t have to run his whole life for him – like you said yesterday to that woman, man’s not a child!”

“I know,” Hannibal’s voice was getting more strained by the second, “and I’m not trying to run his life for him! I’m trying to save him from getting hurt!”

“An’ how’s he supposed to be hurt ‘cept you keepin’ the truth from him?”

“BA,” despite his very best efforts, Hannibal’s voice was getting louder with every sentence, “has it ever occurred to you that she may just be lying? And if she is, then what the hell is the point in upsetting the kid like that for nothing! We get the DNA results back in three days and then we will know the truth for sure. Until then, I’m not saying anything to him.”

BA scowled, “You promised Adele you would tell him,” he accused.

“And I will. I never promised when I’d tell him.”

There was silence for a minute as the two men glared at each other. “You think she’s lyin’?”

Hannibal thought hard before he answered, “I honestly don't know, BA, but what I do know is that I wouldn’t settle at all if I didn’t check it out for him first.”

“So, when Miguel gives us the results from the DNA test, and it’s positive, you’ll tell him for definite then?”Hannibal’s silence as he folded his arms and held BA’s stare was answer enough. “What? Hannibal, man, where is the sense in that? If the test is positive, why the hell wouldn’t you tell him?”

“Does he need this, BA? Does he? Isn’t he fine now, with us? All this time he’s never had a family, but now he’s got us, so why should I tell him?”

The anger was clear in BA’s eyes as he too folded his arms, “You well outta order, boss. You don’t own him; you can’t keep this from him. You don't tell him – I will.”

Now it was time for the anger to flash in Hannibal’s eyes, “You will do nothing of the sort, corporal, do you understand me?” He took a step in, “And if you flout my ruling on this then you and I will start having some serious issues, you got that?”

But BA refused to be intimidated, “I’ll give you until I hear back from Miguel to make up your mind. And then, if it’s positive and you decide not to tell him, let me tell you now. I will. And if that’s gonna be a problem for you boss,” BA shook his head, “then I really don’t care. You got that?”

And before Hannibal even had time to answer, BA turned and stormed out.

In the hall way beyond, Murdock frowned and worried his lip with his teeth. He stood and thought about all he’d overheard for a moment, before heading back outside to finish cleaning the boards.

______________________________

Murdock sat with his back against the fence post and systematically started shredding yet another grass stalk into thin strips. He had a dilemma running around and around in his head and he hated it, hated that Hannibal and BA had been arguing, hated that they were keeping something from Face, and hated that, thanks to his eaves dropping, he had now got himself involved.

The one thing that was clear in his mind, though, was that Face should most definitely not be kept in the dark about all of this. BA was right, this thing affected Face the most, if it was true, it would change his life forever. Surely he had the right to know that? Even now when the facts were not one hundred percent clear? BA was also right about the way that Hannibal treated Face sometimes. Sure he knew the old guy loved him, really loved him, but he did tend to treat Face a bit like a child, like he wasn’t capable of making his own decisions. For the most part Face ignored it and let Hannibal do his own thing, but every now and again Hannibal would over step the mark, make a decision that Face did not appreciate, and then they would end up having the mother of all rows. Murdock frowned; if the DNA test came back positive and Face ever found out that Hannibal had kept this from him, hell, that would be the row to end all others.

So, it was decided that in his head that Face should know what was going on, the only thing he hadn’t worked out yet was who was going to tell him.

________________________________

The sky was streaked in orange and still Murdock didn’t have an answer to his dilemma. His fingers were stained green and there wasn’t a blade of glass still growing anywhere within reaching distance, but he couldn’t go back to the house yet, not until this was straight in his head.

A sudden sound broke into his thoughts and a pair of battered sneakers attached to two tanned legs dressed in cut off jeans thudded onto the grass next to him and then Face was there, plopping down on his backside after vaulting the fence so gracefully, and smiling at Murdock broadly.

“Hey, buddy,” Face sounded happy but Murdock could see the edge of worry in his eyes. “You missed lunch, and dinner, so I brought you these.” He dropped a can of 7-Up in Murdock’s lap and a messily wrapped pack of sandwiches. “Banana,” he told the pilot, watching him carefully, “you like them at the moment, yeah?”

Murdock smiled and nodded, yeah, he liked them at the moment, he found that bananas tended to taste differently over time - you needed to be very careful with them. He popped the can and took a long drink, thinking how typically sweet this was of Face to come and look for him, to realise he hadn’t eaten, to make him his favourite sandwiches, and he shook his head; he hated dilemmas.

They sat in silence as Murdock ate his picnic, smiling as he noticed that Face had cut the sandwiches with the dinosaur cutter they bought at the supermarket last week, and then sat back and watched as Face batted the rolled up ball of tin foil in the palm of his hand, lips counting silently as he went for a new world record.

Eventually, Face tapped just a shade too high and the ball dropped to the ground, landing in and amongst all of Murdock’s shredded grass and he knew his time for thinking had run out. He was right, as Face’s voice, low and quiet and cautious broke the long silence. “So,” there was a pause, “what’s wrong then bud?”

Murdock sighed because, well, that was the thing wasn’t it? There wasn’t anything wrong with him at all, not a scrap, it was all Face, Face who was just sitting there looking tanned and relaxed in his shorts and his old Philly t-shirt and one of Murdock’s baseball caps, curls poking out all around the rim, who didn’t know that his whole life was about to be changed forever...

“You know when you know something,” the words were out of his mouth before he even realised he was speaking, “but the person who should know something doesn’t know something and you don’t know if you should tell them the thing they should know or whether you shouldn’t?” he turned to look at Face, “You know that feeling?”

Face laughed, “I dunno Murdock, I have to say you’ve kind of lost me here...”

Murdock sighed and tried again. “I have these friends right, these two friends,” he turned and studied the sky as it turned from orange to red, “and they know something about another friend of mine.” Face frowned but Murdock; eyes following the roosting birds now, missed it. “The thing is though, they haven’t told him, this other friend, you know and I think they should. I think it’s important. So... the question is Face, shall I tell him? This friend of mine? Or shall I leave it to the other two to sort out? That’s what I’ve been sittin’ here thinking about all day.”

He eventually turned back to Face and his stomach twisted unpleasantly, all trace of Face’s good humour was gone, his eyes were narrowed and concerned. “What do they know about me Murdock?” he asked quietly.

For just a second, Murdock was panicked, but he recovered quickly and just smiled at Face, trying to look and sound sincere. “You?” he laughed, “Oh, Facey, it’s not you! It’s some other friends of mine that I know!”

He laughed again, but even to his own ears he knew it sounded a little high pitched, a little off, and Face just raised an eyebrow at him, “Murdock...” and Murdock just deflated.

“I’m sorry, Face, you need to go and talk to Hannibal, I can’t tell you this. Hannibal’s the one who knows, he’s the one who’s waiting. You have to talk to him.”

“Waiting?” Face frowned at Murdock, “Waiting for what?”

“The test results,” Murdock answered before hastily clapping a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

“Test results?” now it was Face who was slightly panicked. “Is someone ill? Is Hannibal ill?”

And Murdock rushed to soothe him, “No, Face, don’t worry, really! No one’s ill, it’s DNA results!” and the hand was back over his mouth.

But now Face looked almost angry and turned to look right into Murdock’s eyes, “Seriously, Murdock, you better level with me here, right now...”

There was a tense standoff, Murdock, back pressed against the fence post by the weight of Face’s glare, fingers fidgeting in the shorn grass, “Face...” he pleaded, it was all he could think of to say.

“Come on, James,” Face changed tack, his voice soft and pleading. “You know I would tell you...”

Murdock closed his eyes as he acknowledged how right that statement was and then slumped in defeat and let his eyes slide shut. “Okay,” he whispered, wondering if it was Hannibal or BA who would actually deal the final blow as they killed him, “Hannibal went to see a woman the other day, someone called Adele?” he cracked an eye open to see if Face showed any glimmer of recognition at the name, but there was none. “And anyway,” he closed his eyes again, “well...” he opened them and looked apologetically at Face, “there aint no easy way to say this, Facey...”

“Just say it,” Face ground out.

Murdock shut his eyes again, “Well, I dunno how it happened,” he giggled, “well actually I do, ‘cause I aint daft, but well...”

“Murdock...”

“And it musta been a long time ago since you don’t remember the name and well, you know, Hannibal an’ all that, but...”

“Murdock!” Clenching his fists and jamming them under his chin as he opened his eyes yet again, Murdock met Face’s impatient stare.

He took deep breath, “Well, buddy – it looks like you’re a daddy...”

For almost ten seconds, Face sat and stared at Murdock his expression one of complete and utter shock until he finally managed to persuade his frozen muscles to work, “A dad?” he whispered, “Me?”

Murdock nodded, not sure how Face was taking this just yet. “I heard ‘em arguing about it this morning in the kitchen when you were in the shower,” his words came out in a garbled rush. “BA wanted to tell you, but Hannibal wanted to wait until the tests came back...”

“Who?” Face stuttered.

Murdock shrugged apologetically, “I wasn’t there, bud, it was who Hannibal and BA went to see when we were at the beach.”

Face raised his eyebrows at that. “And Hannibal wasn’t even going to tell me?”

Murdock shook his head.

With a murmured, “Fucking hell!” Face was up on his feet, vaulting back over the fence and jogging across the field towards the house while Murdock just curled up in a ball and let himself flop onto his side, wondering if it was too cold to spend the whole night out in the field.

__________________________

Hannibal was looking out of the window, coffee cup in his hand and so saw Face the second he appeared at the top of the hill. He instantly froze as he realised he was running hard, could almost make out the desperation in his eyes and, knowing that the kid had gone out to find Murdock, slammed his coffee cup down on the counter, yelled for BA and sprinted out of the house himself.

He was almost at the end of the garden when Face came over the fence, springing over easily with one hand on the top rail. “Face!” he called, eyes wide and worried. “What is it? Where’s Murdock?” But Face didn’t answer, instead he just kept on coming, not running now but striding and Hannibal stopped, confused, a frown crossing his brow that would rival Face’s. “Kid?” he asked again.

The next thing he knew Face’s hands were slamming into his chest, hard, knocking him backwards, making him stagger away and he was even more confused. “Were you never gonna tell me then boss?” Face spat, taking a step in as Hannibal stepped back.

Abruptly it all clicked into place and Hannibal closed his eyes for a second and swore under his breath. He heard BA’s feet arrive out of the house behind him and he was glad; maybe now BA could see why Hannibal had been right, why telling the kid should have been handled so carefully, why they should have waited until it was unavoidable. Maybe now BA would see the damage he had done...

“Look,” he offered to Face, his voice calm, his palms facing upwards, “it’s not all that straight forward...”

“It’s exactly that straight forward!” Face yelled and Hannibal couldn’t help wincing at the pain he saw in those blue eyes. “This information was about me Hannibal, fucking me, wasn’t it? Not you, not BA, not Murdock! So why the hell did you all know about it when I didn’t?!”

Precisely on cue, Murdock appeared at the fence, eyes hooded and downcast and Hannibal suddenly realised who exactly had told Face about his mother, but the question was, who the hell told Murdock? Hannibal narrowed his eyes, he was still blaming BA for that one. “Face,” he tried to make his voice as calm and non-confrontational as possible, “Come on inside, kid, let’s sit down and talk about this properly,” he reached out and took hold of Face’s wrist.

“Fuck off!” Face barked yanking his arm away from Hannibal’s fingers. “The time for talking about this properly has gone. What the hell were you thinking of Hannibal? Keeping this from me?”

Hannibal sighed and ran his hand over his face, this was not going well, “Look,” he reached his hand out once more and then thought better of it, pulling it back again. “I was just trying to protect you. I was going to tell you as soon as we got the results of the DNA tests.” He ignored BA’s quiet huff coming from behind him.

“Yeah,” Face rolled his eyes, “that right then boss? You would have told me would you? Definitely? Regardless of the answer?” Hannibal’s silence and the dropping of his eyes to the ground pulled an ironic laugh from Face. “Yeah. I thought so.”

He went to walk off as Hannibal’s hand reached for him again, “Face...

Once again, Face whipped his arm out of Hannibal’s reach, turning back with anger fierce in his eyes. “Don't boss, just don't,” he took a step back towards the house, hands held up in front of him, “Don’t insult me with your lies.”

Hannibal took a step to follow him, “Face,” his hands were still reaching out. “I never wanted to hurt you, this was the last thing I wanted, it was exactly what I was trying to avoid.”

“You should have told me!” Face yelled, impossible to calm, “I don't even know who she is! What if I bumped into someone else who knew when I didn’t? What if I bumped into her and I didn’t even know? How could you put me in that position, boss? Finding out in the street like that? How could you?”

Hannibal’s heart clenched at the tears he saw standing in Face’s eyes and he shook his head. “No one else knows, kid, she hasn’t told anyone. And if she did bump into you she wouldn’t say anything, I told her I would handle telling you, she wouldn’t go against that.”

“But why do you get to make that decision?! What the fuck gives you that right?!”

Forcing himself to stay calm, Hannibal answered, “I told you, I was trying to protect you.”

Face was on the move again, stalking agitatedly backwards and forwards, “I don't need your fucking protection! I should have been the first person who found out, not the last!” he looked pointedly at BA and Murdock before turning his eyes back on Hannibal. “And there is nothing as far as I can see that proves you would have told me at all. Ever!”

“I would, kid, I-”

“No! No you wouldn’t.” Face had stopped his pacing and turned back to Hannibal, hands clenched into fists. “And how could you do that to me, boss? My parents both walked out on me, you know that. How could you make me into the same thing as them? How could you make me abandon my own child as heartlessly as they left me? You know how I feel about that, you know how I would die rather than perpetuate that cycle, and you would have made me into exactly that person!”

Hannibal exchanged a quick anxious glance with BA before turning back to his lieutenant, “Face...?”

“There is no excuse for this, absolutely none!!! Both of you are out of order, way out of order. I have to rely on Murdock here overhearing your conversation, discussing me before anyone has the basic decency to even tell me one damn thing!”

All eyes briefly flashed to Murdock who was leaning against the fence, arms folded tight across his chest, eyes clearly distressed. “What did you think boss?” Face continued, “That I didn’t deserve this chance for a connection in life? That because I’m with you I have to forgo getting to know my own damn child? Is that what you thought?”

Hannibal stepped forwards, “Face, listen to me here, there’s been a mistake.”

But Face wasn’t in the right frame of mind to listen at all, “Damn right there’s been a mistake! Me thinking I could ever trust you, that was a mistake for sure!”

Hannibal ignored his jibe and continued trying to explain. “Kid, the woman that BA and I went to meet, she wasn’t one of your exes.”

“Does it matter who she was?” Face was still yelling, “If she had news about some child I’m supposed to have fathered, don’t you think I should have known about it?”

Hannibal ran his hand shakily through his hair thinking for another way into this, but it was BA’s voice that cut into the silence, “It wasn’t about a child, man...” he said quietly.

It worked and Face stopped dead, turning to look at the corporal with confusion in his eyes. “What?”

“Face.” Taking a deep breath, Hannibal stepped forward again, taking Face’s hand while he was too distracted to pull it away. “Temp, sweetheart,” he continued, “The woman that BA and I met – well, she claims she is your mother...”

For a long minute there was a heavy silence as Face just stared at Hannibal while the rest of the team stared at him.

“What?” he repeated, his voice shaking slightly and Hannibal sighed.

“Your mother. I’m so sorry, kid; I didn’t want you to find out like this...”

Face’s eyes flicked to Murdock who was looking at least as shocked as Face was, and then back to Hannibal pulling his hand out of the colonel’s grasp and taking a backwards step towards the house as he did. “Right...”

“Face, kid, come here...”

“No!” Face’s hands were up again, warding Hannibal off, and then he turned and ran for the house.
_________________________________

Face sat in his car at the end of the street and watched as the windows of the house went black one by one. When the last one flicked into darkness, he looked at his watch and then waited another half hour before starting his engine and edging the car onto the drive and home.

Letting himself into the dark, silent house, Face tried to be as quiet as he possibly could. He’d fled from the others straight after that awkward as fuck scene in the back yard, grabbing his car keys and disappearing out of the front door even as Hannibal burst in the back, yelling his name. He’d sped off in a squeal of rubber and switched his phone off the second it rang when he’d not even reached the end of the road. And then he’d driven about, all night, relieved he had a tank full of gas as he had nothing but his phone in his pocket and then returned to the house in the early hours of the morning to wait until it was safe to go back in.

As he’d driven, he’d thought and there had been time for him to experience almost every emotion known to man as he headed up into the hills and drove the dark, quiet roads. First of all, he was angry, real, red hot angry that they would all plot against him like this, take this information, whatever it actually was, and presume that they could decide what to do about it. Yes, he knew that this was a product of Hannibal’s over protective streak, but even so, it was wrong.

Once he’d got over that, however, a most unexpected emotion hit him, grief. Grief for the child that, oh so very briefly, he thought he’d had, a child he’d never thought he’d wanted, but when it was there it had filled a hole he’d never even noticed before. A child that would be a part of him, something that would always be there, a tie to the world that was blood-thick and undeniable, something for him to work for, someone who would rely on him – all those things that he’d resigned himself to not having, and then were his, for a few brief minutes at any rate, before being snatched away again. It was a facet of his emotional makeup that he’d never known was there before, would probably never acknowledge it again, and the chance to confront it, to feed the need inside was gone before it had even had the chance to be there. How strange there was this raging need inside him that he’d never seen before...

And then his thoughts moved to the real issue here, the real problem that had landed in his lap. His mother. His mother. He honestly couldn’t believe it.

There was a time, long ago, when all he’d ever wanted was for his mother to come back for him. He remembered lying in his bed in a dorm full of other boys and crying silently into his pillow for a mother he couldn’t even picture any more. He’d had all kinds of ideas as to why he was in an orphanage, each one as farfetched as the next. He’d been snatched from his bed and his loving parents were walking the streets every night, searching for him; he was the long lost son of a rich European baron, separated after a dreadful accident and missed enormously; his father was a successful Hollywood actor, who had placed his son in this orphanage to protect him from the prying eyes of the press.

All those fantasies, however, were cruelly and coldly dashed by Gregory Samuels, a boy twice Face’s age who called him a ‘retard’ one day, told him he had to be a retard for his parents to just leave him on the steps like that, like a dog they wanted to die. Well, that had been news to Face, the priests and nuns had always been very tight lipped about the circumstances that had brought him into their care, but for an eight year old Face, breaking into the orphanage’s office and stealing a look at his file was as easy as the algebra he was learning in school. And there, that night, crunched into the corner of the office, cold in his thin, hand me down pyjamas, torch clasped tightly in his hand, he read the stark truth about his arrival into the care system.

There it was in black and white, he could just about remember the exact wording all these years later: ‘Foundling: male child, unknown name, unknown age, unknown family. Found on the steps of the orphanage at 5.15am by Sister Anna. Child was in good health apart from being cold and distressed. Despite his age (child appears about five years old) he does not speak, possibly this defect was the reason for his abandonment. Child has been assigned the name of Alvin Brenner.’

Words like ‘distressed’, ‘defect’ and ‘abandonment’ can have a strong effect on an eight year old child, and Face never shed a tear or wished for his mother to come back again after that day. He also put to bed all the childish fantasies he’d been harbouring about his true parentage and faced up to facts; the reason he was in an orphanage was that his parents didn’t want him, didn’t even care enough about him to make sure he was with someone who would at least keep him safe. Well, that was fine, that didn’t bother him in the slightest, he didn’t need anyone to look after him, he would be just fine on his own. And he was – on the outside at the very least.

It was only meeting Hannibal, years and years after that fateful night, that showed him what he’d been missing out on all those days, and in a way that had made it all come back, made it all worse, as he couldn’t help thinking about what it would have been like to grow up like this, with someone behind you, someone to catch you if you fell and push you when you needed it. Face had always been so proud of himself; that he had got where he was in life because he’d caught himself, he’d pushed himself. But once he met Hannibal, he just felt so damn let down that he’d missed out on so much.

And then the answer to his dilemma became clear, so clear that he almost laughed at himself for needing to give it any thought at all. So, his mother had come back and wanted him back in her life? She’d decided that she had the time, now, to give to the son she’d abandoned in the street as a child? Well, she could fuck right off as far as he was concerned. She hadn’t wanted him, she’d left him to manage all on his own for all this time; well, that was her choice, and this was his.

For a minute, just a minute, the weight of sadness that pressed down on his shoulders at that decision was almost crippling. His throat tightened up and his eyes started to sting and for a truly horrible moment, he thought he was going to start crying. But – he hadn’t shed a tear for that woman in thirty years and he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.

With a determined shake of his shoulders, he turned the car’s nose west and headed home.

So now he was back and had waited until the house was silent for a very good reason – he had no desire at all to talk about this with anyone, not even Hannibal, not now, not ever, and he would feel so much better about coping with it all in the morning.

He crept into the living room, determined to camp out on the sofa for the night, forgoing his warm space next to the man who loved him for the opportunity to get himself together a bit more. He pulled the cushions into place and yanked the throw off the back of the sofa to use as a blanket and had just sat down, unfastened and slipped off his sneakers when a voice from the corner of the room scared the living shit out of him. “Hey, kid, glad you’re back.”

He grabbed his chest in shock and almost jumped out of his skin, realising at the same time that Hannibal had waited until he had taken his shoes off before announcing his presence, sneaky fucker, knew Face was unlikely to go tearing back out into the night in bare feet. Face just sighed and leant back in the cushions, letting his heart slowly steady its thumping, he had no desire to run anymore tonight anyway – just like he had no desire to talk.

“I’m back because I’m tired,” he said, his voice a flat monotone, “and I’d like to go to sleep now, if that’s alright with you.”

“Of course it’s all right,” Hannibal edged forward in his seat and Face could see him partially illuminated by the street lights outside. “Why don’t you come upstairs then? It will be so much more comfortable for you up there.”

“No thanks,” Face replied snippily, “I’d rather be alone tonight,” and he set about arranging the cushions and spreading the throw and finally slipped off his shorts and stretched out on the sofa, his feet sticking out of the throw and hanging over the end of the arm rest.

“Face...” Hannibal’s voice was soft in the darkness, but Face just turned on his side, back to his boss. “I’m sorry, kid,” it seemed that Face’s snit wasn’t dissuading the boss from his purpose, “I shouldn’t have kept that from you.”

Face remained silent.

“I know it’s hard to appreciate, but I really was trying to save you from being hurt. Really.” Hannibal sighed, as all he got in return was a continued silence and a stiff back. He moved closer but stopped as he saw Face tense up even more. “Please, kid, please don’t do this to me...”

Face had whirled around before he’d even realised he was moving and found Hannibal kneeling right in front of him on the carpet. “Don’t do what to you?” he snapped.

“I know this is difficult for you, Face, but please don’t shut me out.”

“Shut you out?” Face was shocked by the bitterness in his own voice, “What like you didn’t shut me out when you first found out who that woman was?”

Hannibal looked at him imploringly, “Face, I’ve told you I’m sorry about that, I was only trying to help.”

“I don't need your help,” Face spat.

Hannibal just tried again, reaching his hand out and resting it on Face’s knee. “We need to talk about this properly, decide what you want to do.”

Yanking his knee out of the way, Face crossed his legs and shuffled back into the corner of the sofa. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Tomorrow we should get the results of the DNA tests,” Hannibal perched on the edge of the cushion, keeping his distance from Face, “and then once we know if she is really your mother we can work out how you want to do this.”

“You are not listening to me; there is nothing to work out!” Face’s eyes were cold in the darkness and he pulled himself back even further into the cushions.

Hannibal sighed, “I don’t want you just jumping in there with both feet, kid, we need to take it carefully, I swear I won’t let her hurt you again.”

Face pulled back so far that his feet were now underneath him and he was crouched in the corner of the sofa, positively quivering with emotion. “Hannibal, you are not listening to me! There is nothing to discuss; I have no desire to see her at all!”

At last Hannibal stopped. “What?”

“You heard me.”

For almost a whole minute Hannibal just stared, lost for words. “But kid,” he eventually whispered, “Why?”

Face rolled his eyes, “Why the hell do you think Hannibal? She dumped me remember? Why would I want to see her now?”

Hannibal held his hands out, “To find out why? To let her explain?”

“No!” Face’s voice was beginning to rise again, “I can’t think for one single minute that there is anything going on here that she couldn’t have explained at any time in the last thirty five years! She’s waited this long? Too fucking little, too fucking late.”

“Maybe she’s only just been able to find you?”

Face laughed, a flat, empty sound that chilled Hannibal’s heart, “I was in the Catholic Care System until I was sixteen years old Hannibal, she knew exactly where I was, she could have contacted me any fucking time she wanted!”

“Maybe she had her reasons.”

Face’s eyes opened wide, “Maybe she did! But I don’t fucking care what they were, right?”

Sighing, Hannibal reached his hand out and rested it on the top of Face’s foot. “Don’t make this decision now, you are tired and you are upset. Come to bed with me and we will talk about it in the morning.”

But Face just exploded, “Will you start fucking listening to me?” he yelled, “There is nothing to talk about! There are no decisions to be made, I don’t care who she is and what she wants, I’m having nothing to do with her!”

Hannibal rubbed at the cold foot under his palm, “Look, kid, give her a chance. You haven’t seen her since you were four.”

“Yeah? Well the reason for that, in case you’ve fucking forgotten, was that she left me on the steps of the orphanage when I was- wait,” he suddenly stopped and looked back at Hannibal. “Four? I was four? Did she tell you that?”

“Yeah,” Hannibal muttered, frowning slightly.

The implications of that statement hit Face like a steam train. Suddenly everything he thought he knew about his life was wrong, skewed slightly, all the things he thought he could rely on, gone. He’d long ago resigned himself to not knowing who he was, what his real name was, but to find out now that he wasn’t even the age he thought he was just totally wiped him out.

So he was four when she left him, four. Not even old enough for school. That meant he’d gone through school a year above where he should have been, no wonder he’d found it hard, no wonder he’d had to study harder than anyone else just to make it all make sense. No wonder he’d been small, ‘weedy’ the other kids had called him, but not once he’d started running back and forth to school, not since he’d gone into the backyard after chores and started lifting those big stones, not since he’s bust the nose of the next kid who’d call him that. And the army, Face’s blood ran cold. He knew damn well he’d got in early, was so fed up of life the way it was he’d forged a birth certificate and letter from his ‘parents’ allowing him to join up at seventeen. But of course he wasn’t seventeen at all, he was sixteen, or so he thought, but now he knew better. Fifteen. He was fucking fifteen when he joined up, not quite seventeen when he saw his first war zone. Jesus Christ, he must have been the youngest Army Ranger in history.

And what else? Suddenly he was ten years old when he had his first spell in juvie, twelve when he lost his virginity, thirteen the first time he got pissed, seventeen when he first slept with Hannibal, the birthday party the boss had thrown for him when he was twenty one, the best party of his life, a total lie now... His whole life was one big falsehood.

He shook his head, trying to make sense out of it all and suddenly Hannibal’s hands were on him, warm against his cheeks, turning his eyes to look at him, “Face?” the worry was clear in his expression.

Face closed his eyes, all his fight gone. “Hannibal, please,” he whispered. “Please just leave me alone. I can’t see her, I can’t do this. Please, I’m begging you.”

Hannibal didn’t understand what was happening, not one tiny bit, but he could read the look in the kid’s face before he closed his eyes, knew despair when he saw it and realised he’d pushed too far already. He pulled Face’s limp body towards him, his hand going up to rest in his hair at the back of his head. “Okay, kid, okay,” he soothed. “Look, come to bed with me and I swear, I absolutely swear, I won’t mention this again tonight, okay?” Face didn’t respond so Hannibal just started tugging him gently to his feet. “Come on, come on. You’re cold and tired, it’s been a tough night, come on, baby, come to bed.”

Face didn’t reply, didn’t even look up from the floor, but he let Hannibal pull him off the sofa and towards the stairs, and once they were upstairs he let him strip his clothes off and guide him into bed. He even let the boss pull him in and wrap his strong arms around him once the duvet was laid across then both and the bedside light was switched off. But he didn’t go to sleep, not until the first rays of light were creeping around the edges of the blind and the birds were singing loudly at his window.

__________________________

Hannibal was an early riser. Generally they all were, habits learned in the army difficult to break, but this morning Hannibal knew Face would be asleep for some time yet, he knew that the kid would have had a rough night, had felt him tossing and turning until it was light. He slid quietly from the bed, watching as Face stirred slightly, murmuring in his sleep before turning to the side and settling once more.

BA was already up, perusing the sports pages of the morning paper, the smell of the coffee he didn’t even like wafting around him as he sipped his juice. “Morning,” Hannibal greeted him, pouring a large amount of coffee into a mug. “Thanks for the coffee.”

BA nodded to himself, “Thought you might need it,” Hannibal slid into the seat opposite as BA’s dark eyes lifted up to his, “He came back then?”

Taking a sip of the hot coffee, Hannibal nodded, “Yeah, about two thirty.”

“Thought so, thought I heard him come in.”

That made sense. Hannibal knew that even though Murdock and BA had gone to bed, left him to deal with Face’s eventual return, they wouldn’t have settled into sleep until they knew he was back home safely.

“So,” the concern in BA’s eyes was obvious, “he alright then, man?”

Hannibal sipped at the hot coffee again, thinking. “I don’t know,” he eventually replied; he let out a long sigh, “Says he won’t see her.”

BA stared back in obvious stunned silence. “He won’t see her?” Hannibal shook his head, “Why the hell not?”

Thinking for a minute, going back over their conversation from the previous night, Hannibal paused. “It still hurts him, BA, the way she left him.”

BA sat back in his seat, “Yeah, well it would wouldn’t it? Havin’ your momma disappear like that, but she’s back now an’ she wants to make it right.”

“He says it’s too late.”

A disparaging humph came from BA’s side of the table, “Geez, Hannibal, this is his mom! It aint never too late to make it right.”

Looking at his corporal carefully, Hannibal answered quietly, “You need to remember though, BA, not everyone’s mother is like yours.”

Shaking his head frustratedly, BA frowned, “I know that, but what the hell does Face know about any of this?”

“What are you saying?” Now it was Hannibal’s turn to frown, “That because he’s never had a mother before she should be grateful for the first one that comes along, no matter what she’s like?”

BA’s glass of orange juice hit the table with an angry thump and he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, “No, I’m aint sayin’ that at all. I’m sayin’ he won’t know what she’s like unless he gives her a chance!”

Hannibal refused to let BA’s anger get to him, “But she left him, he thinks she’s forfeit all her chances.”

“Nah, she’s his mom, she has rights!”

That was true, Hannibal supposed. “But with rights come responsibilities don’t forget. And has she lived up to hers?”

But BA wasn’t easily swayed, “I dunno – did she? Didn’t she? She said she had her reasons for leavin’, said he was better off without her, who’s to say he wasn’t?”

“You really believe that?”

BA rose from his seat and went over to put his empty glass in the dishwasher, “I dunno, colonel, no one knows what the reasons were, that’s why he needs to meet her, find out.” He turned back to Hannibal, leaning his back on the edge of the sink, his hands resting on the cool aluminium, but Hannibal didn’t answer, he was tracing patterns with his finger onto the table top, brow furrowed.

“Look,” BA tried again, “all I’m sayin’ is all these years he’s been actin’ all sad and left out that he never had a family behind him, and now he has that chance and he’s turnin’ it down!” He shook his head slowly, “Don’t make much sense to me, your family’s the most important thing in the world.”

Still Hannibal remained silent and eventually BA could stand it no longer.

“You think he shouldn’t see her?” he asked him, incredulous.

At last Hannibal answered, sighing heavily, “No, BA, I think you are right, I think he should at least talk with her the once. I’m just trying to see things from his point of view.”

BA walked to the door, his hand on the knob, “Yeah, well, he’s wrong, man, dead wrong. She’s a nice lady, gone to all this trouble to find him, come over from New York to see him, the least he could do is meet her. All these years without seeing him musta been hard for her,” he shook his head, “I’m goin’ for a shower.”

Hannibal listened as his footsteps retreated up the stairs. BA had made some good points but Hannibal didn’t agree with everything that the big guy had said, knew that Face would agree with even less. He rubbed his chin, deep in thought; all these years without seeing Face had been hard for Adele? Hannibal really didn't know about that, but they’d certainly been hard for Face.

___________________________

Face opened his eyes and immediately flicked them over to the clock when he realised that Hannibal wasn’t with him. 9.30am, he couldn’t remember ever sleeping so long in the morning when he wasn’t injured. Or on painkillers. Or hung-over. Or recovering from a mission with no sleep. He shook his head as he swung his legs out of bed, rubbing through his hair in an attempt to shift his headache, man, was everyone’s life as fucked as his?

He went into the bathroom and relived himself, trying to decide if he should get showered or if he could stomach some breakfast. In the end he just went back to the bedroom and threw his running gear on; it felt like there was electricity running through his veins and he needed to get it out, a run seemed just the thing.

___________________

He’d run much further than he usually did and the sun was high in the sky as he pounded up the last few hundred metres back to the house, his t-shirt rolled up in his hand, his whole body shining with sweat. Slowing right down, Face started stretching his legs out as he ran, cooling down a bit, easing off as he neared the end.

“Excuse me?” the voice cut right into his thoughts, and he realised, quite sheepishly, that he’d let his preoccupation of the revelations from last night blind him, that this could have been an MP stepping out on him like this instead of some harmless tourist.

“Yeah?” he stopped, yards from the house, breathing hard, hands on his knees.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt your run,” the woman was late forties, maybe more, long honey blonde hair, neat figure, map of the stars homes and camera clutched in her hands. Face glanced up briefly as she spoke and then away again, she wasn’t his type, despite his devotion to Hannibal, he still looked, couldn’t help it, but this woman was too made up, to poised and false to claim his attention for long.

“S’okay,” he replied easily, even with his laboured breathing, “you lost?”

“Yes,” she held the map out to him, “I am in the right area for all these houses?” she asked, touching the streets under her finger with a perfectly manicured fingernail.

Face smiled, “No, sorry, you are way off, in completely the wrong area. We are here, see?” his own finger joined hers on the map, “and you need to be way over here.”

“Oh,” she looked crestfallen, “I knew that taxi driver didn’t speak very good English...”

Shrugging apologetically Face took a step away from her to resume his run but she turned with him, bright smile across her face, “I don’t suppose you live near here? Perhaps you would drive me over?”

Instantly alarm bells started ringing loud and clear in Face’s head and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end, expecting someone to creep up on him with a gun at any second. His easy manner disappeared in a flash and his eyes flicked around him, suddenly on full alert; he knew when someone was trying to pick him up, and this was not one of those times. “Sorry,” he said, his voice firm, “I don’t, no,” and then he turned, instantly crossing the road away from the team’s house and running, much faster than he had been, intent, only on drawing whoever was after him away from the rest of the guys.

As he ran, he pulled his mobile from the pocket in his shorts and quickly relayed to Hannibal what had happened. Hannibal was silent, absorbing everything he said before tersely telling him to keep going, to get away from the house and wait for one of them to call him.

Face kept the phone clutched tight in his hand and did as he was asked, taking a convoluted route through side streets and back alleys, crossing parks and wasteland, constantly looking over his shoulder for anything suspicious as he ran, glancing at his phone every few seconds and positively willing it to ring.

Eventually he found a quiet bench in yet another park and sat down, breathing much heavier now, his thighs feeling like lead, and waited.

Ten minutes passed before his phone buzzed in his hand and he answered it the same second, before it had even had the chance to register who was calling. “Yeah?” he knew the tension was clear in his voice.

“Relax, kimosabe,” Murdock’s soft drawl reached his ears, “everything’s fine over here, no sign of your mystery woman or anyone else suspicious, so the boss wants me to pick you up. Where you at, brother?”

Relief washed over Face like a wave, wiping away the stress and tension, and he dropped his head into his hand, “Thank god...” he whispered before mentally giving himself a shake and looking around him, “Salt Lake Park,” he answered, “You want me to walk down to East Florence and wait for you there?”

“Sure, I’ll be there as soon as I can...”

Face hung up and allowed himself five minutes, just five minutes to imagine all the horrors that might have happened this morning and then to be thankful that it wasn’t the army, or some crazed drug lord out for revenge, or the mafia, wanting them out of the way, before he wiped such defeatist and downright terrifying thoughts out of his head, and rose to his feet, letting them take him in the direction of East Florence Avenue.

Murdock found him sitting in a bus shelter, t-shirt, now damp and crumpled, back on and looking hot, tired and thoroughly pissed off.

“So, that woman?” he prompted as he slid into the passenger seat of the old Chevy that BA had bought as a discrete run-around for them, very much appreciating the air con and the cold bottle of water Murdock slipped him.

“She really was a tourist,” Murdock told him as he pulled back out into the slow lunchtime traffic, “Hannibal went out and followed her. She called a taxi, got it to take her to Mulholland Drive, got out and started taking snaps.”

Face finished his water, wiping his mouth dry with his hand, “So... what? She just had a really bad taxi driver, dropped her off on the wrong side of town?” He was frowning, knew that sounded unlikely to him.

“Big guy thinks she was probably ripped off, some guy out to take advantage of an out of towner,” Murdock was calm, eyes hidden by his aviators looking out at the slow moving traffic around them, but Face still thought the solution unlikely. He let it drop though; he trusted Hannibal, trusted them all, despite what had happened yesterday and what he’d told them. If they said it was safe, then it was safe. He let himself slide down in his seat and closed his eyes, his lack of food and sleep, plus the run across town suddenly fuelling his exhaustion.

Time passed and he knew he was drifting in his seat, possibly even right on the edge of sleep before Murdock spoke again. “Hey, Face,” his voice was timid, unsure, and Face screwed his eyes further together, he knew he didn’t want to have this conversation. “I’m sorry, man, for what I said last night. Really screwed the pooch, huh?”

Despite himself, Face laughed at Murdock’s choice of phrase, “Don’t worry about it,” he answered quietly, “you weren’t the one keeping secrets.”

Silence fell for another couple of blocks, before Murdock cleared his throat and Face cringed, here it was... “So. Your mom...”

“Yeah.”

“That’s – unexpected.”

Again Face smiled, “Yeah.”

Even with his eyes still firmly closed, he knew Murdock was looking at him. “You don’t want to talk about it?”

This time Face sighed, folding his arms across his chest and considering. Did he want to talk about it?

“I don’t know,” he eventually replied. “That depends on whether or not you are going to try and talk me into seeing her.”

“You don’t want to?” Face just shook his head tersely, “I don’t blame you, bud.”

That got Face’s eyes open and he turned to look at Murdock. “You don’t?”

“Nope,” Face could see the angry set to Murdock’s mouth. “She made her decision a long time ago, don’t think it’s right that she just gets to waltz in now and lay claim to you again.”

Face watched Murdock’s set expression as he took a left across traffic and then turned back, his own eyes drifting out to the window. “That’s not what Hannibal thinks.”

“It’s not Hannibal’s decision,” Murdock countered, quick as a flash. “It’s yours, buddy, you need to do whatever you want.”

Picking up his empty bottle, Face started playing with the cap, twisting it back and forth in his fingers. “Yeah...” he answered quietly, a million and one thoughts spinning around in his head.

_________________________________

Hannibal was driving back from Beverley Hills after dropping Adele Armando back at her hotel with a flea in her ear after the stunt she had pulled on Face. She was surprisingly meek, offered very little explanation for her actions other than a fairly convincing, “I just wanted to see my son, Colonel Smith!” before turning and staring out of the window in silence for the rest of the drive.

As Hannibal pulled in to the front of the building to let her out, he leaned over and levelled her with his most intimidating expression, “You try that again, lady, and we will disappear back into the sunset taking Face with us. You got that?”

Her eyes were furious, but she simply nodded, and climbed out, slamming the car door hard before storming onto the hotel, ignoring the doorman who tipped his hat and opened the door for her. Hannibal shook his head and sighed before driving away.

He’d only gone a block before his phone started ringing, and, seeing who was calling, he pulled over at the side of the road. “Yeah?” he asked, ignoring the horns that were objecting to his stopping place. He listened in silence for a second before frowning. “You sure?” This time a shake of the head. “Okay, well, that’s great, thanks, we owe you one.”

He hung up and pulled back out into traffic, ignoring the motorist to his left who was yelling at him and flipping him the bird. As irritating as the concept seemed, it looked as if they were all going to have to get used to Adele Armando being around; the results of the DNA test had come back positive.

___________________________

Face went straight up for a shower as soon as he got back, he was hungry and thirsty and had been intending getting something to eat, but seeing Hannibal and BA huddled together in a conference through the kitchen window put him right off that idea.

He spent a long time in the shower, and it was noticeable that Hannibal hadn’t come up to bang on the door and order him out – looks like the boss was giving him a wide berth for one reason or another, and that was just fine by him. Eventually though, even he conceded it was time to get out, so after towelling himself dry and yanking on his cut offs and a clean t-shirt, he took a deep breath and decided to bite the bullet.

The smell of bacon and sausage hit him as soon as he was on the stairs and, turning into the kitchen, his empty stomach growled appreciatively at the spread set out over the table.

“Hey, Facey!” Murdock, resplendent in cook’s hat and apron, was just getting a dish of hash browns out of the oven and turned to throw Face a wide grin. “Knew you’d missed breakfast so we thought we’d have a breakfast-lunch, a ‘lreakfast’!”

“’Brunch’, fool,” BA grumbled from his seat at the table.

“Hey, kid,” Hannibal breezed in behind him, hand trailing familiarly across Face’s hips as he passed, “You okay?”

Face nodded, relieved that whatever conversations had gone on in his absence, it seemed that they were being dropped for now. Excellent.

_______________________

Brunch was a relaxed, drawn out affair, and by the time he’d finished eating, Face was actually glad he’d run halfway across town that morning, at least he’d had a chance to burn off some of the thousands of calories he’d just put down his throat. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his stomach gently as BA cleared the table, rolling his eyes at Murdock’s tale of woe from the supermarket shop earlier in the day.

“You a fool, man,” BA eventually put in, plonking a fresh pot of coffee in the middle of the table, the affection in his eyes belying the harshness of his words. “Everyone knows that ‘All items individually priced’ don’t mean each damn egg!”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t...” Murdock grumbled, “Musta checked through about two dozen boxes before that manager came to see what I was doin’...”

Face smiled, glancing around at his friends, enjoying this easy, relaxed banter, but freezing when he realised that all eyes had turned to him. His heart sank and he pushed his seat back, looking to make a quick exit before whatever was about to happen could even start to happen.

“Face...” Hannibal’s voice stopped him before he’d even made it onto his feet.

“What?” he snapped.

“Don’t rush out on us here kid; we want to talk to you.”

Face fixed him with a cold stare, “Oh, and I wonder what it could possibly be about?”

Hannibal refused to get ruffled, “I think we all know, and you need to think about it properly.”

“I have thought about it properly. I told you last night what I had decided!”

“But, you haven’t talked about it with us,” Hannibal was calmness personified.

Face raised his eyebrows, “And I need to?”

“It’ll help you get it straight in your head.” Face opened his mouth again, looking like he was going to argue so Hannibal cut him off, “Still, your decision through, always your decision.”

Face sighed and looked from Hannibal’s earnest expression on to BA who nodded ever so slightly, and then Murdock, who shrugged and had the decency to look a little sheepish, flushing red at Face’s muttered comment of, “Et tu, Brute?”, before he sagged back in his seat, realising if he didn’t do this now, they would just keep going on and on at him until he did. “Alright,” he muttered reluctantly, “shoot.”
Hannibal and BA exchanged a quick look and Face felt savagely satisfied that he had been right in thinking they were talking about him when he got back with Murdock earlier on.

“Well,” Hannibal began quietly, “we thought you might like to know all the details we had from the meeting I made with your mother.”

Face tensed. Details? He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of those, the one detail that Hannibal had shared with him so far had knocked him on his ass already, he wasn’t sure he wanted any more. But then he saw Hannibal’s expression and knew the boss wanted to offload, would tell him someday anyway, so he just shrugged instead.

“Okay,” Hannibal took a breath. “Last week, we had a message left on the e-mail from a prospective client, said she wanted to meet, with only me, to discuss the case. I arranged to meet her in a cafe over in Santa Monica.”

Face frowned and Hannibal could see the instant worry in his eyes, knew he was thinking about safety, security and their policy of never meeting a new client alone. “Don’t worry,” he reassured him, “I took BA as back up, it was the day you two went surfing.”

As the panicked look in Face’s expression faded away, Hannibal continued, “Anyway, when I got there, she told me that she didn’t want to hire us at all, she wanted to see you, that she was your mom.” Hannibal paused but Face’s expression didn’t change.

“So, I asked her for some proof and she didn’t really have any. Said she had to leave everything behind when she left LA.”

Almost despite himself, Face leant forward, “She tell you why that was then?” he asked, his voice bitter.

“No,” Hannibal replied calmly. “She said she would much rather discuss that with only you. All she said was that circumstances changed and she had to leave LA. And you.”

Face crashed back in his seat once more, his arms folding protectively across his chest. “That’s it? That’s all she said? Circumstances changed? What the fuck does that mean?”

Hannibal met his stare head on, “I don't know, Face, why don’t you ask her?” but Face just rolled his eyes and folded his arms a little tighter.

“Anyway,” Hannibal continued quietly, “that’s all she said. She didn’t mention your father, said she was eighteen when she had you and that you’d lived together, just the two of you, for those first four years.”

Face turned and stared out of the window, knowing his eyes were bright with unshed tears and hating himself for this weakness she was exposing in him. He was thirty eight years old for christsakes, well, actually, no, thirty seven thanks to yesterday’s little bombshell, why the hell should finding out that he was an unwanted pregnancy, a bastard child, affect him like this? It wasn’t like the thought had never occurred to him in the past.

“Face?” Hannibal’s voice was gentle in the silence of the kitchen.

“What?” he turned back to meet that unwavering gaze, fully aware that they were all politely ignoring the brightness of his eyes and the roughness of his voice.

“So, lots of unanswered questions, hey?” There was a pause, a very rare Hannibal-Smith-is-unsure pause and Face closed his eyes in preparation. “Maybe you should meet her, just the once, give you the chance to ask them?”

And there it was. Face sighed. “No. Not at all, I’m not interested.” His eyes opened and fixed on Hannibal, “You’ve told me all I need to know.”

“You still don’t know why she left you,” Hannibal pushed.

Face unfolded his arms and leaned across the table towards his lover, eyes still bright, but now flashing with anger as well. “Isn’t that fucking obvious?” he spat. “Because she didn’t want me! Didn’t love me! You think I want to meet her just so she can tell me that to my face?”

Hannibal’s eyes shone with sadness but it was BA who answered first, “You wrong!” although Hannibal didn’t quite approve of the harsh snap to his words. “She loves you, man, why else would she go to the effort of trackin’ you down after all this time?”

For a second, BA’s words caught Face unprepared and he just turned to stare at the big man, his mouth slightly open.

“And she’s your mom, Face,” BA pushed on, “you owe her this!”

There was a second’s pause as Murdock shook his head and Hannibal rubbed a hand over his eyes before Face erupted. “I owe her?!” he yelled at BA, “How the fuck do you work that one out?!

“‘Cause she’s your mom, fool,” there was anger in BA’s voice now, “and you don’t disrespect your mom!”

Face started getting to his feet, “Yeah? Well, maybe if she’d ever fucking acted like one I might have-”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Hannibal and Murdock rose as soon as BA did, Hannibal’s hands on BA’s arm while Murdock had one hand on Face’s chest, the other on his back, trying to soothe him more than restrain him. “Guys, come on, come on, this isn’t helping! Calm it down a bit, right? BA?” BA reluctantly turned to nod at Hannibal before lowering himself back into his seat. “Face?” But Face just glared, even as Murdock continued to rub circles on his back.

“Come on, kid,” Hannibal reached across the table and took hold of Face’s wrist, thumb brushing over the veins hiding just under the skin as he continued to try and pacify his overwrought lieutenant. “Just calm it down. I know this is hard for you, okay? Really hard. I know...”

At last Face pulled his eyes from BA and turned to Hannibal and the two of them shared a look, so long and intense and obviously an entire conversation held in silence, that Murdock had to look away, feeling he was intruding on such a tender scene.

After a minute, he felt Face relax ever so slightly under his hands and he dropped back into his chair, turning to nod at Murdock while Hannibal slid his hand away and sat in his own seat. There was another pause as BA tried to look anywhere but right at Face and the clock ticked slowly on the wall, but eventually Face spoke. “So,” he let out a long sigh with his words, “that’s it? That’s everything you know?”

Hannibal met his eyes again, “Not yet, there’s one or two other things.”

Face folded his arms again and steeled himself. “Go on.”

“Your name, your birth name. She told us that.”

Face just stared at him, his expression blank.

“Would you like to know it?” Hannibal’s voice was soft again, as if he were talking to a frightened animal.

Again, Face just stared, but Hannibal could see the fear in his eyes, the real, desperate fear of finally getting some answers and maybe not liking what they were. Eventually he shrugged, just the tiniest movement of his shoulders.

Hannibal nodded. “Okay. It’s Daniel, Arthur, Ellis,” he paused to give Face a moment to take that in before moving on. “She calls you Danny, must have been the name she used when you were little. And her name is Adele, but she’s married now so it’s Armando, Adele Armando.”

The clock’s ticking was the only noise in the room as the three men watched Face as he continued to stare blankly at Hannibal, then suddenly he was on his feet again, so fast the chair tipped to the floor behind him. “I... I need to... go... now...” he took a step back.

In a second, both Hannibal and Murdock were standing as well, Hannibal’s hand reaching out for a wrist he couldn’t quite reach. “Wait, wait, kid,” he soothed, “just one more thing we need to tell you, and this is really important...”

Face kept his blank eyes on the boss, but Hannibal could see the tears that were filling them up more with every passing moment. “I told her I would talk to you,” he whispered to Face, trying to keep this quick, knowing the kid was close to losing it, “see if you would agree to meet her,” Face opened his mouth and Hannibal could see the protestations forming on his lips. “I know, I know, just listen,” he fell back into blank listening. “Well, so far I haven’t rung her back. But...” Hannibal cast a quick glance at Murdock before pushing on, “Well, it appears that she’s got a little fed up of waiting. That tourist outside today? That was her.”

There was yet another heavy silence as Face absorbed this news, before he turned his head to Murdock, the anger and betrayal clear through the tears still standing in his eyes.

Murdock couldn’t stand it, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, bud!” he grabbed for Face’s arm but Face yanked it back out of reach, “Hannibal told me I couldn’t tell you!”

“He’s right, I did.” Hannibal was more than willing to take the blame for his actions. “I knew you’d ask him and I didn’t want you running out on us again, kid, it’s not safe, you know that. I wanted you here in the house when we told you, so we could help.”

But Face just shook his head and took a step towards the back door; instantly BA rose to his feet and Hannibal moved, effectively blocking his route out.

Face stared at them both as the first tear slipped from his eye and rolled slowly down his cheek and into the stubble on his chin, “You have got to be fucking kidding me...” his voice was a harsh whisper.

Hannibal was resolute. “No kid, you’re not leaving the house in this state. You want to be on your own, that’s fine. Go upstairs, no one will bother you, but you’re not going out.”

“You don't trust me to come back?” the challenge was clear in Face’s voice, his posture, his eyes.

“I don’t think you are in the best frame of mind to keep yourself safe like this. That’s all,” Hannibal was trying his level best to be as diplomatic as possible. “Of course I trust you.”

“Like fuck you do!” Another tear rolled out. “None of you do!” Face’s wild gaze ripped through BA and settled right on Murdock. “You’re all the fucking same!”

And then he was gone, turning on his heel and yanking the door behind him open, slamming it shut as soon as he was through. The three men stood in silence and listened to his feet as they took the stairs two at a time before there was another resounding slam of a door upstairs.

For a minute, no one spoke, until: “Nice work colonel, yeah, nicely done!” Murdock hissed. “I told you we should have left him alone!”

But Murdock’s only answer was the slamming of the back door as Hannibal turned and stormed out into the garden.

_______________________

Adele Armando stood at the window of her fifth floor hotel room, looking out into the street below. She had no idea what was down there, however, Santa and his elves could have come skipping along the sidewalk and she would never have noticed, her eyes were unfocussed, the brandy in her hand untouched as she just stared, her mind a jumble of thoughts.

Her mobile’s shrill ring interrupted her, however, and she jumped so badly that she almost threw brandy over the white linen jacket she wore. She put the glass forcefully down on the windowsill, frowning at it as she did so, and snatched up the phone, determined that changing the ring tone would be the next job on her list as soon as she had taken care of the little problem who was calling her.

Answering the phone with a testy, “What?” Adele, perched on the end of the bed, determined not to wrinkle her pants. For a moment she just listened, her brow further creasing with every word, a manicured finger tapping irritatedly on her knee.

“Have you quite finished?” she snapped when the voice on the other end of the line finally stopped, “Because I really don’t know where you get the idea you can talk to me like that!”

The voice started up again, in its own version of Adele’s outrage, but she cut it off instantly. “No. You listen to me. I didn’t specify any time scale with you, not at all. The arrangement was that you are to wait there and not contact me and I will be in touch when we are in a position to move forward! You understand? I don’t appreciate you calling me, and I don’t appreciate you telling me how I should handle this whole operation!”

Yet more objections came over the phone and Adele shook her head in annoyance. “I can’t do that you fool!” she hissed. “I need him to trust me, to want to do this voluntarily! You don't seem to appreciate just how dangerous these men will be if we cross them!”

The voice on the line spoke again, and yet again Adele shook her head. “No, I absolutely refuse. We do this my way or not at all, is that clear? I have spoken to Smith and he will set up a meeting with Danny, I am absolutely convinced of it, but even then, things are going to progress slowly.” More words. “No I haven’t seen him yet. No, not at all - it’s not even been a week, how fast did you think this was going to go?”

For a few minutes more she listened in silence before letting out a bitter laugh. “Oh, that is just the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard! You have coped with your paltry wage for all these years, you can damn well just cope a few weeks longer while I do this right! And don’t call me again, you hear me?”

With a flash of temper, Adele disconnected the call and instantly switched the phone off. She had been intending on going down to the hotel bar, waiting for someone to pick her up and buy her dinner, but that phone call had just erased any longing she might have been harbouring for food, wine and sex. She pulled a padded hanger out of her wardrobe and started getting undressed, instead, she and her bottle of brandy were going to have a bath and an early night.

___________________________

Face lay on the bed and cried into the pillow until he had nothing left to get out, then he turned over into his back, arm across his eyes and tried to work out what the hell he’d been crying for in the first place.

He didn’t want to see this woman, not at all, not even to answer the question of why she left him. He was a grown man, he had good friends and a love so intense he often couldn’t believe it. He had more than enough money to live on and was good at what he did; the last thing he needed now was a long lost mother rolling in and mixing it all up for him.

And that’s when it struck him, the source of all these tears, all this upset, was that she had chosen to make this reunion thirty years too late in his eyes. Even twenty years too late. Who knows how different his life might have been back then is she’d been around for him. He wouldn’t have had a childhood of feeling second best, unloved, unwanted, unworthy that’s for sure. It doesn’t matter how much the nuns and the priests cared for him, maybe even loved him in their own way, he was just one of many. Too many mouths to feed, too many clothes to buy, too many toys to get at Christmas, too many school trips to fund. It wasn’t their fault that he’d had to go without, that he’d never had anything of his own, that he’d needed to wear patched and worn third or fourth hand clothes, he’d always understood that; it was his, his alone for being so damn unlovable that even his mother didn’t want him.

He felt a fresh set of tears prick at his eyes and knew then that he wasn’t crying for himself, no, he was crying for the four year old on the orphanage steps, the eight year old rifling through the filing cabinets, the ten year old who was the only one left behind when the whole class went on the Grand Canyon field trip, the twelve year old who couldn’t play on the school football team as he didn’t have the right equipment, the fourteen year old dumped at the school dance by his date as his clothes were so far from the latest style, the fifteen year old who conned his way into the army in an attempt to kick-start his life. It was all those children who had suffered, who had made him the man he was today; independent and determined, someone who cared about looking good and owning quality things, a soldier, who could bury his emotions deeply after years of practise, and equally a man plagued with self doubts, low self worth and an almost pathological inability to trust and attach to people.

It was crazy, she’d never been around to nurture, support and guide him as a mother should, but she’d still ended up making him exactly what he was today, and he could never forgive her for that, no matter what her reasons.

He turned on his side and stared at the wall, thinking over all the facts that Hannibal had landed on him. His name for one, Danny she’d called him then, well, that was a little kid’s name, if he’d known his name all along, he’d have called himself Dan by now. He quickly shook himself, getting that thought straight from his head, he wasn’t Dan, or Danny or even Daniel, he was Face a name given to him by someone he loved, someone who loved him back, and someone who had never, ever walked out on him.

But Daniel Arthur? How weird was that? That when Father Magill finally allowed him to change his name from the one he’d been allocated on arrival at the orphanage, he’d chosen the same damn middle name as his mother had for him? So weird. He wondered if it were some deep suppressed memory that had fought to the surface, but quickly discounted that thought. He remembered his process for choosing a new name, flicking through a copy of The Baseball Encyclopaedia, looking for names that sounded rich, classy even, that no one would expect to belong to a penniless, possesionless orphan. He’d had to thank Garry Templeton, Arthur Rhodes and Hal Peck for his eventual choice. Maybe that’s what his mother had done as well? After all there was Danny Carter, Danny Frisella, loads more he guessed; they must have been playing around the time he was born, maybe that’s what she did?

But then he thought back to the impeccably dressed woman who wore too much make-up and had waited in ambush for him outside the house earlier today, no, he couldn’t for one minute imagine her picking names for her unwanted baby out of a Baseball Encyclopaedia.

And that was another thing. What the fuck was all that about? All that cloak and dagger, ‘Ooh, I’m a poor lost tourist, help me!’ routine? Face shook his head, why the hell couldn’t she have just come up to him and said who she was instead of lying to him like that, making his friends lie to him as well...? The first contact he’d had with her in thirty three years and she lied to him. Well, didn’t that just sum it all up nicely?

It was as these thoughts spun round and round in his head, Face, eventually drifted off to sleep.

______________________

It was dark when he woke up. Proper, thick, right-in-the-middle-of-the-night dark and Face sat up, for a second, totally disorientated. And then he heard it, the sound that had kept him anchored every night of his life for the last twenty years, Hannibal’s soft breathing next to him. He looked over, and could just make out the boss’ outline in the dark next to him, laid on his side under the covers, obviously sound asleep.

Face had been expecting him to come up all afternoon. Despite his promise that they would leave him alone if that’s what he wanted, he hadn’t really believed it, had expected that the boss would come up, want to thrash through it all again, drag him over the coals a third time over that damn woman, and maybe this time Face would have fallen to pieces completely. But the boss hadn’t come up, none of them had, they’d kept their word and left him to it, even though all he’d really wanted was for Hannibal to come and hold him, not talk to him or try and persuade him or even sympathise with him, just hold him.

Feeling strangely empty, he tossed the blanket he’d been covered with off his legs and headed for the bathroom.

______________________

He hadn’t expected sleep to come back to him once he’d finally crawled under the covers next to Hannibal, had thought the hours he’d had before would keep him up for the rest of the night, but it didn’t, his lack of sleep the previous night finally catching up with him, he was asleep within minutes of creeping across the bed as far as he dared without actually touching the boss.

And then the dream came.

It was hot, hot even though he was in the shade of a tree, the thin strips of eucalyptus leaves providing some protection from the power of the sun, and he could feel the heat on his head and the back of his neck. But he was busy, so he didn’t mind, he was making rivers and lakes and creeks and sailing his little leaf boats down on them, watching as they raced along the tracks he scored in the dirt with a stick. It was a game he played often, the hose they used for their water dripped all the time, so, if he set it up just right it would run through the dirt and he could direct it into all these wonderfully twisting rivers and lakes, setting up dams in just the right places to make the little leaf boats sail into the big puddle that was always there at the base of the tree stump.

His stomach rumbled and reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since he’d woken up that morning and he shifted slightly where he was crouched in the dirt; as soon as he had sailed all these boats down to the sea he would head back inside the trailer and find something to eat.

Then he heard it, the distant shouting and the ticking of bicycle wheels in the dirt. He paused for just a moment, wanting to wait until his current fleet were safe in the sea before he left, but then the shouts came closer and he knew he had to move. He was up like a shot, realising too late that he wouldn’t make it round the other side of the trailer to the door and so scrambled underneath instead, flattening himself against the side of tyre so they wouldn’t see him.

He was just in time, the second he had pulled his legs in out of sight, the first of the bikes skidded around the corner and came to a halt about ten yards from the trailer, closely followed by six or seven others.

“Hey!” the shout, expected as it was, still made him jump and he curled into a tighter ball, determined that they wouldn’t see him. “You in there hoe?”

He cringed, hating that word even though he had no idea what it meant.

“She’ll be busy,” another voice answered, scorn dripping from every word, “probably with Randy’s dad again.”

“Fuck off,” a third voice grumbled, “she aint never touched my dad.”

“Maybe she aint in,” another voice added, “she’s usually yellin’ at us by now.”

The small boy behind the wheel hoped they believed that, hoped that meant they would go away.

“Nah,” the first voice replied, “she’s always in. Bet she’s in bed. Come on, let’s wake her up.”

And then it started, the barrage of stones thrown from close range, hitting the trailer from all sides, the noise and the clanging deafening in the space underneath. He curled in even further on himself, hands clapped over his ears, counting frantically as far as he could go, just trying to drown it all out.

Eventually it stopped. There had been no sound from inside the trailer, no reaction at all and that worried him, but the boys had got bored and their discontented mutterings slowly faded away as they got on their bikes and went off in search of another victim. He left it a little longer, partly to make sure they had gone, and partly hoping that he would hear something above him. When everything around was silent and all he could hear was the birds and insects, he decided he was safe to come out.

Slowly, slowly, he crawled through the rubble strewn under the trailer, until he got to the far side, the one nearest the door, where he pulled himself out into the sunlight again. With a heavy heart he scrambled up the steps and edged the door open, letting light spill into the gloomy interior of the trailer. “Mommy?” his voice was so sudden in the silence, it almost made him jump but there was no answer. “Mommy?” he tried again, this time a little louder, and this time there was an answer.

“Danny? Danny, is that you?”

He ran to the sound of the voice, down at the far end, the one they used as a sitting room of sorts and found her lying on the padded bench, pale and sweating and struggling to sit up. He stopped, just far enough away that she couldn’t touch him.

“Danny! Oh thank god, there you are! I’ve been calling you for ages!”

He took a step in, although not too close, you never quite knew what to expect when she was like this, “It’s okay,” he told her quietly, “I hid under the trailer.”

For a moment she looked confused, as if she had no idea what he was on about, but then she noticed the state of his clothes. “Well, you shouldn’t have,” she snapped, “look at the state you are in! You shouldn’t go under there I’ve told you that!”

Looking down at his clothes he suddenly realised that he was filthy, dirt and dust and cobwebs clinging to him; automatically he started wiping it off.

“No!” she yelled, “Not in here! Outside, outside,” he turned, quick as a flash to run out but she called him back before he’d got to the door. “Wait!” he stopped. “Danny,” her voice was all sweetness now, “don’t go just yet, Mommy needs you to get something for me, will you honey? Get something for me?” His heart sank, he knew what she wanted and he knew that would mean he would be finding his own supper and going to bed alone again.

He nodded glumly and climbed up onto the counter in the kitchenette, edging along until he got to the cupboard over the sink. He knew this is where she kept her stuff, told him she kept it up high to keep it out of his way, but then kept sending up here to get it, didn’t make any sense to him. He opened the cupboard and reached in, last one; he didn’t fancy being here when she realised she had none left at all...

He jumped down, staggering a bit as he landed, “Careful!” she hissed at him, “Don’t break it!” He wouldn’t break it, not ever. He’d done that once before and not enjoyed the consequences. He hurried down the trailer and handed it to her, watching with a kind of morbid fascination as she scrabbled to unscrew the top and then tipped it straight into her mouth, eyes closed as she gulped the clear liquid noisily down her throat.

Watching for a minute, he suddenly felt like he needed to go, and, knowing he wouldn’t be missed turned and walked slowly back outside. He wandered disconsolately back towards his rivers and fleets and stopped short, tears suddenly blurring his eyes as he saw all the bicycle tracks running through his little world crushing his delicate leaf boats and ruining all of his carefully tended rivers.

Back in the present day, Face was on his feet even before he was fully awake and staggering down the hallway to the bathroom. By the time Hannibal heard him and followed him down to see what was the matter, he was kneeling in front of the toilet bowl, pulling the flush to get rid of the remains of Murdock’s carefully prepared brunch.

_____________________________

Hannibal cleaned him up and calmed him down a bit before leading him back to bed and settling them both together under the covers, Face’s head on his chest, his hands stroking through sweat damp hair and smoothing his almost rigid back.

“Feeling better, kid?” he whispered eventually, glad that the look of devastation he’d seen in Face’s eyes in the bathroom had faded. He felt Face nod silently against him. “You want to talk about it?”

No. Absolutely not, that was the last thing Face would ever want to do. He shook his head slightly.

Hannibal sighed. “You sure? I think you should, it always makes you feel better.”

Face flushed at those words, he really was some kind of expert in nightmares, had them almost every night in one form or another, from very vivid flashbacks, to the out and out terrifying reliving of an ambush gone wrong or a buddy that didn’t make it or a time when he thought he was going to lose one of his team, his family. And Hannibal was right, whatever his dream, he would tell him all about it and that would make it lose half its fear right there and then. Face had never hesitated over telling Hannibal a dream before, they were partners, shared everything, there were no secrets between them, well, not until that woman had shown up anyway.

But that dream... he suspected what is was, not a dream as such but an old memory, repressed or forgotten over the years, coming back to bite him as soon as his mother decided to make a reappearance in his life. He screwed his eyes closed, trying without any modicum of success to blank out the images he’d never wanted to see, his mother almost passed out on the bench, only pleased to see him as her vodka had run out, those boys and their comments, the rundown trailer parked on a patch of scrub land. Although he’d long ago stopped thinking he might be the son of a deposed Royal Family somewhere, hidden for his own protection, he’d never really considered that he might be the unwanted offspring of a morally dubious alcoholic, dragged up in the dirt in some godforsaken trailer park. Trailer trash.

And how, how on earth, could he tell that to Hannibal? Hannibal who had grown up in a sprawling ranch, caring parents, brothers and sisters aplenty, who’d had a good education, West Point, the whole thing. How could Face tell that man that the person he had chosen to live his life with was not the person anyone thought he was? He wasn’t any of the things Hannibal thought of him, none at all, no, he was the lowest of the low and it would have saved everyone a whole lot of bother if he’d never even been born.

“Kid?” the worry was clear in Hannibal’s voice and it almost broke Face’s heart to hear it, knowing that, if Hannibal ever found out the truth about him, he would be horrified at what he’d let into his bed. But Face knew he was selfish to the core, and also realistic; he knew he would never be able to cope without Hannibal, never in million years, he would simply disintegrate on the spot, so for now, and the foreseeable future, the deception had to continue.

He lifted his head and looked into Hannibal’s eyes, the light drifting in from the full moon outside, just about making him visible. “Boss,” he whispered, fear of rejection making his throat tight, “I need you. I need us to make love.”

Hannibal’s forehead creased into a frown and instantly his hands were up on Face’s cheeks, stroking the edge of his stubble, “Oh, baby,” he murmured, wishing, not for the first time, that he could see what was going on inside Face’s head, “tell me what the problem is. Please don’t shut me out here.”

“It’s nothing,” Face replied, eyes never quite meeting with Hannibal’s, “I just need this, boss, I need...” he struggled for the right word, “us.”

Leaning up, Hannibal kissed him, feeling the familiar shape of his lips above his own, then he pulled back and looked at him, noticed Face averting his eyes and felt a sharp pain in his chest. Over twenty years he’d known this man, more intimately than he had ever known anyone before but... he shook his head, at times like this he felt like he just didn’t know him at all.

Face was watching him carefully and saw the slight shake of his head, instantly interpreted it wrongly, and with tears burning in his eyes, tried to pull away. “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered darkly, “Forget I said anything.”

“No, no, no, no,” Hannibal moved with him so he was sitting up in bed, his hands still cupping his lieutenant’s face. “I didn’t mean I didn't want you, kid, you know I will always want you, always give you just what you need. It’s just,” he shook his head again, “I don’t understand this, I know you are hurting and I don't know why you won’t talk to me about it.”

Face closed his eyes, Hannibal’s honest examination of him too much to take right now, and then he felt the boss almost sag and heard as a long breath left his lips, and knew that, just for now, Hannibal was letting it go. “Come here then, my love,” he whispered instead, and Face kept his eyes closed as Hannibal pulled him down, finding his lips again in the darkness and claiming them once again for his own.

______________________

Half an hour later, Face was sleeping once more, his head on Hannibal’s chest, tears still wet on his cheeks as Hannibal stroked through his hair, eyes fixed, unstaring at the ceiling.

He loved Face with all his heart, every single atom in his body belonged to the kid, and it was obvious that this business with Adele Armando was tearing him apart. He needed to meet her, Hannibal was sure of that now, no matter what Face decided to do afterwards, he needed to meet this woman and get his facts straight, and then maybe it wouldn’t be chew him up so badly.

Every time Hannibal closed his eyes, the last few minutes of their lovemaking played out in his head clear as day. He could see Face above him, illuminated by the light of the moon, looking astounding beautiful as he thrust into Hannibal, bringing them both closer to the edge. But then he shifted slightly forward and the moon fell right over him and Hannibal’s breath caught in his throat as he saw the tears streaking down his beloved boy’s face. Hannibal’s own orgasm had deserted him at that point, but Face had carried on, coming soon after and collapsing onto Hannibal’s chest, falling asleep almost immediately.

This time it was Hannibal who was awake to see the new dawn.

________________________

Face stood at the doorway in his running gear, staring across the front yard and trying to decide if he was going to do this or not. He hated himself for being so pathetic, what the hell was he going to do? Hide out indoors for the rest of his life? Worried his mother would try to see him?

The word ‘mother’ sent unpleasant shivers down his spine in the wake of his dream from last night. When he’d thought of her before he’d felt nothing, absolutely nothing at all, no emotional link there whatsoever. Didn’t mean he didn’t have an emotional response, sure there was plenty of anger and bitterness there he knew that, but actual emotions – nope not a thing. And now... the image of her, younger than the woman he’d seen yesterday, but undeniably the same one, sweating and pale on that bench, wanting her vodka, not even noticing as he slipped out, already too far gone to care. Well, that triggered a whole bunch of emotions running through him, fear and a sharp, sharp hurt being the two that were really freaking him out. He was an Army Ranger for fuck’s sake – how the hell could he be frightened of his own damn mother?

He shook his head, appalled at himself but decision made; he couldn’t do this, not today anyway. He couldn’t face her; he didn’t trust himself not to just melt down if she jumped out on him again. Self disgust swirling through him he turned and ran almost slap bang into Murdock, standing at the foot of the stairs, bright forced grin in place, still pulling his old Nike running t-shirt down over his stomach.

“Face!” he said, faking the surprise at seeing him there really badly. “You going running? I was jus’ gonna go!” his smile suddenly got even wider; “Maybe we could go together?”

Face opened his mouth to say no, to tell Murdock that he didn’t want to go with him, couldn’t trust him again after yesterday’s deception, but then saw the almost desperate gleam in Murdock’s eyes and realised that, no, he couldn’t do that. He sighed. He knew what it was like to have to follow unwanted orders from Hannibal, if Hannibal had ordered him not to tell Face the truth about that woman... well; he could understand why Murdock hadn’t. And he did want to go for a run, and maybe with Murdock there then that woman would stay away from him. Jesus, since when did he need a fucking body guard?

Have gave himself a shake, sick of the day’s dramas already and it was only 0840. “Sure,” he eventually replied, plastering on his own false smile and feeling a tiny bit better as Murdock’s face lit up like Times Square.

_________________________________

BA was tinkering with the engine on the old Chevy when Hannibal took a coffee out for him, leaning in the shade as he watched the corporal work.

“We got any jobs lined up then, boss?” BA eventually asked from the depths of the engine.

“Hmmm. Nothing concrete,” Hannibal admitted, “a couple maybe that might come to something; I’m still working on it.”

BA nodded. That was usually a job Hannibal and Face did together, two very suspicious minds doing the job much better than one. Much better than Murdock either who just believed any old crap people told him, and much better than BA who was so suspicious of people wanting to track them down they’d never get any business. It was easier for clients to contact them since Face had set up an e-mail address; they were literally searchable on Google now, but still safely anonymous. However, it was also easier for nutters and time wasters and people after the prices on their heads to contact them as well, so all that crap needed very careful weeding out.

But financially they were doing okay, Face handled all that kind of stuff and BA knew he was putting some away, investing it, he’d told BA, and BA trusted him, knew the kid had a sharp mind for figures and all that stuff, trusted him implicitly. Didn’t mean they didn’t need the jobs though, at least one a month Face reckoned to keep them going, and the way Face’s head was screwed on backwards at the minute meant that BA didn’t see them going on a job for a while yet. He hoped those investments were sound.

“So,” he eventually said, straightening up and grabbing his mug from the ground, “that Face I heard thowin’ up las’ night?”

Hannibal frowned, “Yeah. He had a nightmare.”

BA nodded, that was nothing out of the ordinary at all, Face had nightmares all the damn time. When they were on manoeuvres BA had even schooled himself to sleep through them, the shouting and crashing about, all those whispered pleas and whimpers. He’d felt bad at first, but Hannibal was always there and Murdock would wake up as well, sitting on his own cot, eyes wide as he watched Hannibal trying to gently wake Face up or soothe him back into sleep. But throwing up? That was new.

“What about?” BA took a sip of his coffee and forced back a grimace. Hannibal, who drank it black, always made it too damn strong. Face’s was better, but Murdock who made it with all milk, warmed first in a pan, made the best coffee going.

Hannibal missed the face as those deep frown lines appeared across his forehead. “I dunno,” he admitted quietly, “he wouldn’t tell me.”

BA was surprised. As far as he could ever work out, Face told Hannibal everything, it was like Hannibal was every important figure in the kid’s life all rolled into one; lover, father, mentor, friend, mother, brother, advisor, CO, all of them, and there wasn’t a thing in his life he wouldn’t tell Hannibal in one of his roles. So this? Well, this was odd.

“You know BA,” Hannibal sighed, “this is getting ridiculous, he just needs to meet her, get it all over and done with. No one is saying he needs to keep in touch with her afterwards, I mean with our life the way it is at the minute then that's hardly possible anyway, but he definitely needs to meet her.”

BA considered that carefully. “Why you thinking that now? Cause of the nightmare?”

Hannibal nodded. “It must have been about her otherwise why wouldn't he tell me? He doesn't even want to talk about it with me at all. Which again is another reason why. You know what he's like BA, puts his head in the sand, won't deal with things when they come up. That's why he gets so many damn nightmares in the first place; they all come out on a night.” Hannibal’s hand clenched into fists. “I won't let this business with his mother turn into just another thing for him to lose sleep over.”

Holding onto his coffee instead of drinking it, BA stared down at the ground. “I'm with you on that man, you know I am, but what can we do? It's not like we haven't tried. Every time we mention it he just gets himself all tied up in knots an' ends up runnin' off on us again.”

“Hmm,” Hannibal thought in silence for a moment, weighing up how much he should say to BA. “Which is why I was thinking about just not mentioning it...” he eventually said.

BA looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Hannibal calmly replied, “he can't run off if he doesn't know what's coming, can he?”

Shaking his head, BA whistled out through his teeth, “Hell, I don't know about that, man...”

“C'mon BA,” Hannibal leaned forward intently, “it makes perfect sense. We both know what's right for him, he's not gonna see it that way, not until she's long gone and maybe not contactable again, he'll thank us for it in the end.”

Far from convinced, BA shook his head again. “In the end, maybe, but how long is he gonna hate us for first?” Hannibal didn’t reply, just held his stare that bit longer. “It's a hell of a risk,” BA continued, “why don't we just try talking to him, one more time?”

Hannibal gave a harsh laugh, “What, and bolt all the doors this time?”

BA eventually gave up on the coffee and set it down on the ground as he turned back to the Chevy. “Unless you just speak to him on your own, maybe he's more likely to open up without us there?”

Hannibal thought about this. “Maybe,” he sighed. “I guess you are right, BA, one more try wouldn't hurt. But not now, I don't think either of us could stand it just yet. I'll leave it until later.”

-------------------------------------------------

Sitting in the shade of the gatepost, Murdock lifted his beer bottle to his lips and tipped it up, disappointed and a little surprised to find it empty. He placed it carefully on the ground next to its empty brother and looked at the slightly warm full one next to it.

“Hey, Facey, he called. You havin' this beer?”

Face didn't even look over from where he was dribbling down the drive, his eye on the hoop fastened above the garage door, “Nah, bud, busy.”

Murdock sighed but picked up the bottle anyway and took a swig, cringing at the warmth in his mouth. As his eyes tracked Face back down the drive away from the hoop he had just attempted, he frowned, thinking how tired he was and he'd ducked out of the hoop game almost an hour ago. “Face,” he called out but was ignored, “Face...” he tried again, letting a whinge enter his tone.

Face quickly glanced his way as he looped around the gate post, but then looked away as he loped back down towards another point. “What?”

Murdock sighed, “Come an' sit down, you're making me tired just watching you.” Murdock had long lost pleasure in the game even before he sat down; he'd only kept on going to keep Face company.

“I'm fine,” Face told him, even as he shot at another hoop, missing for the third time in a row. “Don't want to sit down.”

Sighing again, Murdock slumped back against the wall and looked his friend over. Face was still dressed in his navy running shorts and a pale grey t-shirt which was now stained almost black with sweat. His arms and legs were slick and wet, while his hair was stuck to his scalp in tight damp curls. “Buddy,” he whined, “you're dripping in sweat and keep missin' your hoops. You never miss; you're annoyingly reliable in that way, usually.” He saw Face's twitch of a smile. “Come an' sit down, you're smelly and pretty rubbish – what's the point in goin' on?”

This time Face just threw him a dirty look and continued onto try for another hoop, getting the ball straight through the ring this time, turning and sticking his tongue up as he ran back towards Murdock. “Who's rubbish?” he muttered, turning on the spot to head back down again.

Murdock sighed and shifted his numb behind on the concrete, realising they were going to be here for the long haul.

________________________

It was dark before Face finally relented and agreed to put the ball away for another day. Murdock was so relieved; he doubted he ever wanted to see another basket ball in his life again. By the time they had both showered, BA had made a chicken curry and the four of them sat down to eat, Face looking constantly on edge and keeping up a relentless stream of conversation, anything, it seemed, other than let a lull in the evening be filled with talk of his mother.

But he needn't have worried, no one seemed like opening up that particular can of worms tonight and it wasn't long before Murdock was yawning, the run and the hours of basketball on the driveway catching up on him and he made the others laugh, kissing BA on the lips as he was distracted by the football results on TV before heading up to bed. BA wasn't far behind him, and the second they were alone, Hannibal moved across the room, settling himself in next to Face, a hand on his thigh.

“You worn these shorts all night just to make me horny?” he whispered, his lips right at the shell of Face's ear and Face laughed, relieved beyond anything that he still seemed to be safe.

“No, boss, I wore them 'cause it's fucking hot. If they make you hot then that's just an added bonus.”

This time it was Hannibal's turn to laugh and he slid his hand up inside the leg, “Maybe you would feel cooler if you took them off...”

Closing his eyes and letting his head thump against the back of the sofa, Face let out a long, shaky breath. “I doubt I would feel cool for long,” he whispered. “You have this uncanny knack of making me hot.”

“Jesus, kid,” Hannibal breathed as he moved in for a kiss, hands already tugging at Face's shorts, “you are hot, that's the whole point.”

Face tried to laugh, but Hannibal's mouth had found his and then a hand had wrapped around his rapidly swelling cock and suddenly nothing was remotely funny.

Two minutes of rapid scrambling about on the sofa found them in a position they were both happy with; laid full length on the cushion, bare chests flush with bare thighs, a hot, hard cock in each other’s mouths, both suckling and teasing, fingers stroking tight balls and probing at puckered flesh, entering whole heartedly into their familiar dance, not trying to get each other off the quickest this time, this time trying to see who could draw it out the longest for the other.

Eventually, Face came first as he usually did in this game, twitching himself further into Hannibal's mouth with every pulse of semen and then finishing the boss off as well, pushing just the tip of a saliva covered finger into that hot rose and tipping Hannibal over the edge.

More shuffling and wriggling and they were comfortable once more, heads on the arm rest of the sofa, Hannibal's back pressed into the cushions, Face on the edge, being held securely in place by the boss' firm arm. Hannibal leaned in and kissed him, slow and deep, just the way he knew Face liked it post coitally, helping him back down from that sharp edge of desire.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, feeling the hard thump of Face's heart against his chest still.

“Of course,” Face answered languidly, “how can I not be after that?”

Hannibal chuckled, “Glad to be of service, kid.”

Face just smiled and let his eyes drift closed, totally relaxed and blissed out, looking forward to a brief nap here with the boss on the sofa, before maybe having round two upstairs in bed. Hannibal, however, had a different plan. “So,” he whispered, running a hand through Face's thick hair, “you had chance to think any more about seeing your mom?”

Face stiffened but kept his eyes closed as a frown appeared across his brow.

“What do you think?” Hannibal continued.

A long sigh was his only answer and then Face sat up, swinging his feet onto the floor and sitting with his back against Hannibal's chest. “That's what this was all about then was it? Softening me up with a blow job just so I'd agree to meet up with the old crone?”

Hannibal sat up as well, his hand going to Face's shoulder, only for Face to shrug it off. “Face, kid, it wasn't like that at all, I just thought now was a good time for a chat, while we were on our own, nice and relaxed.”

“Bullshit,” Face muttered grabbing his shorts from the floor and dragging them on. “You think I'm that shallow that I will change my mind on a life altering decision, just because you blew me off first?”

Hannibal frowned, “Face...”

“Save it, boss,” he muttered getting to his feet, “I'm really not interested,” and he was out of the door and stalking up the stairs before Hannibal even had the chance to bemoan the dreadful conclusion of his plan.

_____________________________

If Hannibal had been surprised to find the bedroom empty when he went upstairs five minutes after Face, then it was nothing to how he felt when he woke up the next morning and discovered that Face had not come to bed all night.

“BA, you seen Face?” he asked in the kitchen after calling his mobile and hearing it drop straight into the voice mail.

BA glared up from his cereal. “He was up late playin' Halo in Murdock's room, giggling like a coupla stupid kids they were, couldn't get to sleep for them.”

Hannibal frowned, “So, where are they now?”

“Guessin' they're still there.”

Hannibal didn't bother knocking on Murdock's bedroom door, living in the close proximity that they always did, courtesies like that tended to get over looked, but afterwards, he kind of wished he had.

He opened the door wide and looked towards the bed, knowing that's where they always reclined when playing on Murdock's Xbox, but the sight that met him stopped him in his tracks. Face was asleep flat on his back, Xbox controller at his side, still only wearing the running shorts he'd yanked back on downstairs in his temper, Murdock was similarly clad, only a thin pair of boxer shorts on, and he was draped across Face, his head resting on bare stomach, an arm flung over the top of his friend's thighs, fingers brushing the front of his shorts.

Irrational anger boiled up in Hannibal and burst forth like a geyser. “Face!” The name was barked, and just as if he were back in the early days of the army, Face sprung up almost at once, dislodging Murdock off his stomach, eyes wide even before he was awake.

“Boss?” his voice was still slurred with sleep.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Hannibal knew his reaction was over the top, but there was an uncomfortable burning inside him which felt a lot like jealousy.

“What?” Face squinted rubbing his eyes. “Playing Halo. Why?”

Hannibal's eyes narrowed, “It doesn't look like that to me, lieutenant,” he whispered lethally.

Face frowned in confusion, looking over at the TV with its frozen menu screen still shining into the room and it was Murdock that answered. “It don't, boss?” he offered in his drawling tone. “What do you think we were doin' then?”

Their eyes locked while Face glanced between them, bemused.

“Face!” Hannibal barked again, deciding to ignore the challenge in Murdock's eyes for now. “Get up and get dressed, I need you to run some errands.”

And then he was gone, missing Face's mutinous, “Yes, sir, colonel, sir. Right a-fucking-way, sir,” muttered under his breath as he swung his legs off the bed, pausing in confusion to stare at the perfect imprint of Murdock's ear on his stomach.

_________________________

Hannibal had eventually realised that Face was not going to enter into a sensible discussion about Adele Armando any time soon. He was also now officially fed up of the situation as it was, with Face storming off all the time, spending all his time with Murdock, sleeping in the same bed as the pilot even... The situation was far from good. So, if Face wanted to act like a child and run off and hide every time he was expected to face up to his life like a man, than what else could he expect other that Hannibal to treat him like a child? This drama had run on for long enough, and it was Hannibal's responsibility as CO to bring it to an end sooner rather than later. As soon as he got Face out of the house on a list of trumped up errands, Hannibal set to work making his plans.

__________________________

It was late afternoon, Hannibal was expecting Face back at any moment really, and was pleased with the way his preparations had gone. He was just deciding whether to take a shower or wait for Face to come in when Murdock, who had been particularly conspicuous by his absence all day suddenly sidled into the kitchen and slid onto a stool opposite Hannibal.

“You alright, boss?” he asked, carefully solicitous, “You lookin' awfully pleased about somethin'.”

“I'm fine, thank you Captain,” Hannibal was disappointed by the coolness he could hear in his voice, knowing damn well it was irrational.

Murdock nodded and took off his cap, turning it slowly in his hands. “Is there somethin' you wanted to discuss with me?” he asked, carefully not meeting Hannibal's eyes. “Somethin' about Face maybe?”

Hannibal bristled. “No.”

Finally, Murdock looked up and met his CO's frown. “You sure?’Cause you sure looked like you had things on your mind when you burst into my room this mornin'.”

Taking a deep breath Hannibal answered, “I'm sure.”

Going back to fiddling with his cap again, Murdock let silence fill the room for a few minutes before he spoke again and this time there was just a hint of nervousness in his voice. “You know, boss, he'd never do that to you. Never. You mean far too much to him.”

Hannibal let his blue eyes drill straight across the table. “I have no idea what you are on about, Murdock.”

“Good,” Murdock's voice was deliberately light, “'Cause this mornin' you looked at him like he'd committed some kind of heinous sin or something. Like you thought maybe he was doin' somethin' other than playin' on the Xbox with me.” Hannibal didn't answer, just continued to stare. “An' all this business with his mother, Hannibal, don't you see how much you're upsettin' him?”

Hannibal rose to his feet. “The day I want some advice from you on how to handle Face, I will ask. Alright?”

Shrugging nonchalantly, Murdock put his cap back on his head. “Yeah? Well, I will give you some for free just to be getting' on with. Drop this thing about his mom and think about what's best for him for once, or you will push him out of your bed for good.”

“And straight into yours?” Hannibal bit back, his anger right at the surface.

But Murdock just shook his head sadly. “You're not listening to me at all, boss.”

“Oh, I hear you loud and clear Captain, but don't think for a minute that I haven't shared my life with Face for over twenty years without knowing what's best for him.”

Murdock narrowed his eyes. “He doesn't need you to decide what's best for him; he needs to work it out for himself.”

Hannibal leaned over the table on his knuckles and Murdock knew he had pushed just about as far as he could. “What he needs, what we both need, is some time on our own to work this out without other people constantly interfering.”

Murdock shrugged again, “Sounds peachy. He'd like that.”

“And I don't need you to tell me what he would like!” Hannibal was on the verge of exploding. “Tonight, I have booked a table for us at La Maison, and I intend taking him out and having a nice, quiet, productive evening, away from this house and all the negative influences in it!”

Murdock smiled as he rose from his seat, refusing to get rattled. “Sounds great then, boss. Sounds like you got it all worked out. Have a good night.” And then he turned and left before the conversation could get any more unpleasant than it already was.

____________________________

Face was hot and thoroughly fed up by the time he got back from his list of jobs. The traffic on the freeway had been totally snarled up and the air con had packed up on him midway through the afternoon. All he'd wanted when he came home was a shower and a beer, but Hannibal's news that they were going out that night, without Murdock and BA, soon lifted his grey mood.

“Really?” Hannibal felt his heart swell at the way his eyes lit up. “Tonight? Where to?”

Despite his own fraught temper, Hannibal couldn't help his own smile, “La Maison.”

“Really?!” Face repeated, eyes shining. “You sure? It's pricey you know, if you'd let me know in advance I coulda scammed us a table, you know, done the old 'location scout' trick again or maybe 'food critic', I haven't done that one in ages.”

Hannibal shook his head, “No, not tonight. Tonight I want to do this properly.” He smiled at Face, “I've booked a table, and we are going to go in there like regular people and pay for our food just like regular people do.”

Face nodded. “Wow. Well, okay then, boss, if that's what you want.”

“It is.” Hannibal took a step forward and took hold of Face's wrists. “This is my way of apologising, kid.”

For the second time in as many minutes, Face's eyes widened in surprise. “Apologising?”

“Yeah,” Hannibal's voice was soft. “I know you've had a tough time this last week, I know I've not helped and I'm sorry.”

Face smiled at him. “You don't have to apologise. I know you were only looking out for me.”

Hannibal's heart flipped, that was one of the things he loved so much about Face, but also one of things that made him so vulnerable, he was always so quick to forgive those he cared for, always willing to reason away their actions. Shades of guilt flitted across his mind.

“Oh,” Face suddenly froze as he turned towards the shower. “Tonight,” his expression was suddenly clouded, unsure, all trace of his previous pleasant surprise gone. “It's not just another chance for you to butter me up is it? Before you... well, you know.”

Hannibal tried to smile reassuringly at him, “No, kid, it's not. I promise that tonight I will not mention making arrangements to see your mother, not even once.”

Satisfied, Face smiled at him and went to take his shower and decide what to wear.

________________________________

They took a taxi to La Maison, both wearing suits, Hannibal’s dark grey, white shirt and a deep blue tie, Face’s black, black shirt, no tie; neither of them could tear their eyes away from the other.

“You look fucking gorgeous,” Hannibal whispered as the taxi driver crawled through the busy streets, his hand sliding up surreptitiously onto Face’s thigh.

Face smiled back at him, still flushing even after all the years of Hannibal’s compliments. “So do you,” he whispered back, his voice just a little hoarse.

Hannibal smiled but couldn’t hide the tension around his eyes that instantly had Face worrying. He knew he’d hurt the boss’ feelings by sleeping in with Murdock last night, but it hadn’t been like that at all really, had never been a conscious decision to stay away all night.

Face had a sick swooping feeling as he thought back to the whole unpleasant incident; the way he’d been so hurt at the thought that Hannibal had only initiated the session on the sofa to try and get around him over his mother again, then the refuge he sought out with Murdock, but, tired as they both were, they had ended up falling asleep right in the middle of a game. And then the dream, nightmare, memory, whatever it was that flitted into his head almost as soon as he had drifted to sleep, how he’d woken up, struggling, crying and how Murdock hadn’t said anything to him, nothing more than soft, soothing sounds, anyway, how he hadn’t tried to pry from him the reasons for his tears, hadn’t demanded an explanation for the nightmare, had just crawled across the bed to him and held him tightly and it had felt so damn good that Face just couldn’t make himself leave.

But his actions had hurt Hannibal, he knew that now, and that had never been his intention. There was so much hurt, and anger too in the boss’ expression that morning that Face felt awful about it, hurting Hannibal was never something he enjoyed.

Thoughts of last night however, soon brought his mind around to the nightmare and he shuddered slightly, looking out of the window to try and move his thoughts elsewhere but it was too late, the 7-Eleven they drove by all lit up in the darkness soon brought everything back in crystal clarity.

”Are you ready to play our special game then, Danny?”

He’d nodded enthusiastically, although somewhere in the back of his mind he had the vague idea that this game was wrong, that she shouldn’t be asking him to do this for her. But then he had looked into her smiling face and just felt happy that she was happy with him.

They went into the store and wandered about a little bit. Danny looked hopefully up at the shelf with the Oreo cookies on it, but she quickly ushered him away, heading for the aisle with the liquor. He knew what she wanted, she liked the clear bottles with the red words on, and she liked it when he got the big bottles. But he was nervous today, it seemed to him like the man dressed like a police man by the door was staring at him and so he only picked up a small bottle, the one he knew he could fit down his pants okay.

They wandered around a bit more, and then eventually she picked up a jar of jelly and his heart sank, he’d really had his mind set on those Oreo cookies, and they wandered over to the counter. She talked to the cashier a little bit while he stood off to one side, and then at last they were ready to go.

She took his hand and they walked outside into the sunshine. He could feel his relief that it was all over, that she would very soon be thrilled with him for what he’d done, and she might even get him one of those little tanks he’d seen in the window of the toy store they walked past on their way here. But then there was the shout and all those lovely ideas disintegrated instantly.

She dropped his hand so he whirled on the spot and saw the security guard shouting at them. He looked back and saw her running from him and so he took off after her, as fast as the terror he was feeling could pump his muscles for him.

They pounded down the street, and as they ran around the corner, his shorter legs leaving him further behind with every stride, the bottle worked loose from his waist band and slid down his trouser leg, smashing noisily as it did. He kept on running, but saw the way she had turned at the sound of breaking glass, saw the disappointed set to her mouth and knew there would be no tank for him now. He would be lucky if he even got any supper. He had to blink back the tears as he ran.

Even just the thought of it made Face’s heart pound and a thin sheen of sweat break out on his face. He ran a shaky hand other his mouth and wondered what the hell was going on with him. He’d never had any memories of his mother or his life before the orphanage at all before now, so where were all these flash backs coming from? And was that even what they were? He was no expert in the memories of four year olds or child psychology in general, but he doubted that those kind of detailed remembrances were the norm for such young children. So what were these dreams? Were they really memories of a time gone by, deeply suppressed for so long and raising their ugly heads now with the reappearance of his mother? Or was it his brain just filling in blanks for him? Providing him with a past when he so dearly wanted one, even if it wasn’t the past he desired. He couldn’t work it out at all.

“Hey,” Hannibal’s concerned voice interrupted his musing and he looked around to find the boss watching him, eyes creased in worry. “You okay, kiddo?”

Face shook off the memories of the dream and nodded, offering up a poor excuse for a smile. “Sure boss,” he patted Hannibal on the knee. “Absolutely fine.”

_______________________

Murdock finished another lap of the living room and sighed as he stopped at the window, staring out into the front yard; there was no way he could deny it any longer, he felt guilty about his conversation with Hannibal today. It really wasn’t his role to interfere between him and Face, they had been together long enough to be able to sort out their own relationship. It was just, he loved Face, really did; he was his best friend in all the world and as much as he understood that Hannibal loved him too, loved him as deeply and as passionately as Face deserved, sometimes he felt that the boss just didn’t get him.

As far as he was concerned, Face was easy to read, easy to understand. Every expression on his face was like an open book for Murdock, every reaction he made easy to predict, but Hannibal... well, it was like he didn’t understand Face at all. And all this business over Face’s mother, it burned Murdock up to see Hannibal making it worse at every turn, making Face feel more alone, more confused, more unloved. It was just wrong.

But no, sticking his nose into their relationship was just wrong as well and certainly wouldn’t help anything get sorted out in the long run. This meal out tonight was a good idea of Hannibal’s, it would be the perfect way for them to talk things over, and maybe at the end of it all, Hannibal would have a better understanding of Face’s point of view.

Murdock smiled to himself, an idea suddenly forming in his head and he pulled his phone out, flipping it open and finding the number for La Maison in his address book. He was going to buy them a really nice bottle of wine. He knew Face liked red, maybe they had a goodChâteauneuf-du-Pape he could get, or a Bardolino, he’d bought Face one of those at Christmas, and he’d really enjoyed it.

His call was answered on the third ring, the usual efficiently pompous Maitre d’ that these restaurants seemed to employ on the other end of the line. Murdock smiled to himself and adopted a gruff deep voice. “Ah, yes, hello there, it’s John Smith here, I have a table for two booked for this evening, I would like to pre-order a bottle of wine please.”

Murdock smiled to himself as he imagined Face and Hannibal’s surprise at his gift, he hoped it would maybe smooth things over with the colonel a little as well; Murdock hated it when there was an atmosphere in the team.

And then the Maitre d’ was back, his words wiping the smile from Murdock’s face in a second. “Monsieur Smith? Ah, yes I have your booking here, but, has there been some mistake? We have you down as a table for three, not two. Is there are problem with that?”

Murdock stuttered some explanation or apology or reason out of his mouth and then hung up, completely forgetting to order the wine, and then he stood, staring blankly at the wall as the Maitre d’s words swirled around in his head. He tried really, really hard to think of another reason that Hannibal would have booked a table for three, but there wasn’t one, wasn’t another reason in the whole damn world. He swore under his breath and grabbed the keys for the Chevy off the table.

He thought about how Face had looked as he’d followed Hannibal across the front yard and out to the cab earlier that evening, happy, excited, relaxed, clueless; like a lamb to the fucking slaughter, and shook his head. “Hannibal, you sneaky, rotten, bastard,” he muttered to himself as he strode purposefully out of the door.

________________________

For the second half of the taxi ride, Face had made an effort to be more communicative with Hannibal, after all, the boss had gone to all of this effort for him, the least he could do was be pleasant company. He turned and smiled, not missing the look of concern that Hannibal was still throwing his way. “So,” he sat back in his seat trying to appear more relaxed than he felt, “what do you fancy tonight then?”

“You,” Hannibal responded quick as a flash, his eyes positively burning into Face.

Face smiled, “Hmm. Well, I can’t see that going down too well in the restaurant boss, maybe you should try something to eat first?”

Hannibal returned his smile. “If you insist. Perhaps they will have that nice lamb on the menu again, the last time we were here, that was beautiful.”

Face was distracted as the cab pulled up outside the restaurant and Hannibal leaned over to pay. They climbed out, Face adjusting his suit so that it hung perfectly before they walked in through the doors that were courteously opened for them.

“What about you, kid?” Hannibal asked as they were shown to their table.

“Yeah,” Face agreed, “the lamb was nice, but I think I am more in the mood for fish tonight. That or maybe-” he stopped short, his feet frozen into the deep carpet as the waiter tried to usher them forwards, towards their discrete corner table, right at the back of the restaurant, right out of the way. The table where someone was already sitting, looking at the menu.

Hannibal suddenly felt unsure as he looked at Face’s stark expression, the way that all the blood had drained from his skin, the horror in his eyes, eyes that were now swimming in tears.

“Face?” he asked, voice tentative.

His word caught the attention of the woman at the table who looked up at them and smiled, getting to her feet. “Danny,” she greeted them, “how lovely that you wanted to meet with me,” Face’s wet eyes flicked over to her. “Come here and let me hug you.”

Face took a step back, almost walking into the waiter who was watching the scene in confusion and his eyes left Adele, and landed on Hannibal instead. “John,” he whispered and Hannibal was appalled at the hurt evident in his voice, “how could you do this?”

Hannibal just stared at him, convinced now that this had been a mistake, that his conviction that Face would melt once he actually came face to face with Adele was misguided at best. “Face...” he repeated, reaching out to touch his arm but Face recoiled immediately from him.

“Sir?” the waiter looked from Hannibal to Face and then back again, “Is there a problem with this table?”

“What?” Hannibal looked across at him, “Er, no. No, it’s fine,” while Face took advantage of the distraction to whirl on his heel and head for the exit as fast as he could.

“Face!” Hannibal took off after him, ignoring Adele’s frown as she sank slowly back into her seat, and Face broke into a jog, attracting curious stares from the other diners. “Face!” he called again even as his eyes were drawn to a commotion over at the Maitre d’s desk in the hallway beyond the door.

“I am sorry, sir!” the Maitre d’ could be heard exclaiming, “But you can’t just walk in there without a reservation! And we do have a very strict dress code you know!”

Face reached the doorway and burst through just as a loud Texan voice could be heard bemoaning his treatment.

Face’s sudden appearance however, quickly shut everyone up and Murdock took one look at his friend’s desperate expression and stepped forward, right in front of him, his hands going to his rigid arms. “Buddy,” he whispered and Face looked straight at him, the first tear slipping down his cheek.

“Murdock,” he choked out and then stopped, swallowing heavily, hyper aware of all the people around who were staring at him.

“I know, buddy, I know,” Murdock soothed, his own voice thick with emotion. “Here,” he fished into his pocket and pulled out the keys to the car. “It’s parked outside, wait for me there, right?”

Face nodded gratefully and took the keys, disappearing the next second with his head tucked down onto his chest.

Hannibal appeared at the doorway from the main hall and froze in his tracks as he saw Murdock standing there glaring at him, the accusation clear in his expression. “Murdock,” he swallowed hard, “I thought...” and tailed off, his words sounding so empty even in his own head.

“Yeah?” Murdock spat at him glaring hard, “Well you thought wrong, didn’t you?”

Hannibal could only stand still and stare, the truth of Murdock’s words hitting him right between the eyes as the pilot just shook his head and retreated out after Face. Oblivious to the looks he was receiving from the waiters and the Maitre d’, Hannibal watched the doors swing closed after them and wondered just how on earth he would ever be able to fix this mess he’d made.

_________________________

Murdock ran around the parking lot until he saw the car and almost sagged with relief when he spotted Face’s figure bolt upright in the passenger seat; he’d been worried that he would just run for it, either on foot or in the car, and the realisation that he hadn’t calmed his shredded nerves somewhat.

He slid into the driver’s side and glanced over, taking in Face’s almost grey complexion, the rigid set to his jaw and the way that his hands were clenched tightly in his lap. He sighed and shook his head, picking up the keys off the dash and turning the engine over.

He pulled out into the early evening traffic, his mind whirling with possibilities. Face was building up to a break down, he could see it written in every line of tension on his friend’s body, and they needed to be somewhere safe, somewhere private before that happened. The house was the obvious destination, but Murdock turned left instead of right at the junction that would have taken them there; Face didn’t need to see Hannibal right now, words would be exchanged, accusations thrown and neither of them needed those extra wounds at the minute. He supposed he could have taken Face into his room for the night, but no, in consideration of how that had gone last night, that maybe wasn’t such a good idea. He chewed his lip thoughtfully and set out to make alternative arrangements.

_____________________________

The second that the cab pulled up outside the house Hannibal knew that his fears had been realised and that Face hadn’t gone home. The empty space where the Chevy should have been parked mocked him as he crossed the front yard and let himself into the quiet house, his heart as heavy as his feet.

Hindsight was a cruel thing, coming along just too late to allow him to change any of the decisions he had made, any of the damage he had done. And if the realisations that he had made a huge miscalculation hadn’t come with the look he’d seen on his boy’s face in the restaurant, it would certainly have come when he returned to the table to talk with Adele once more.

He had expected her to be upset; Face was her only child after all, the one she had gone to the effort of tracing after all these year, had travelled right across the country to meet., and he had just walked out on her, snubbed her in the most personal way possible; that was bound to hurt. But as soon as he had dragged himself back into the restaurant, ignoring the strange looks he was receiving from the other diners and walked slowly back to their table, he realised that he had just made yet another totally false assumption.

Adele Armando was still sitting at the table, her face smooth and untroubled as she carefully and neatly made her way through a bowl of Moules Marinières, placing the empty shells delicately into another bowl at her left the second she had scooped out the flesh. In a move scarily reminiscent of Face not five minutes earlier, Hannibal froze on the spot, staring incredulously at her.

She stopped, sensing Hannibal’s eyes on her and lifted her face, smiling at him. “So sorry I didn’t wait for you, John, but I have been starving myself all day in anticipation of tonight’s meal and so I was a little hungry.” Hannibal just stared. “Don’t worry,” she looked up at him from under her lashes, “I took the liberty of ordering you some as well,” she pointed to the bowl standing at the place setting directly next to her, “and a lovely bottle of Chablis, always goes so well with mussels I think.” Still Hannibal just looked at her and eventually she frowned. “Well, come on then,” she chided, her voice slipping into little girl mode, “I need you to come and sit with me while we decide what to do about that stubborn little boy of mine before he breaks my heart any further!” Any poignancy her words might have held was instantly obliterated by the flirtatious expression she wore and the way she suggestively rubbed the empty couch seat right next to her.

Hannibal had turned and walked out without a word.

But all of those sudden realisations were doing him no good at all now, not when Face was estranged from him, gone off who knew where with Murdock. He’d called them both more than once, and was less than surprised to find both of their phones switched off. He closed the door behind himself and stood leaning against it, eyes closed against his headache, when BA’s voice reached him from down the hall.

“Murdock? That you? Where’d you take off to in sucha hurry then? I-” BA froze as he rounded the door at the end of the hallway and saw Hannibal slumped in the dark. “Boss?” the worry was clear in his voice and he quickly closed the gap between him and his commander, “What is it? Where’s Face? I thought you two would be out all nigh’. And Murdock’s gone too, he just-” And he stopped again, the worry morphing from his face to be replaced with a look of anger. “Oh, no,” he muttered, one big hand reaching up to rub over his Mohawk, “tell me you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t set Face up with this dinner...”

Hannibal stared at the floor. “I thought it would work out,” he murmured, “I thought it would be okay once he saw her.” The voice was as small and as sad as BA could ever remember hearing it.

“Oh, boss...” BA muttered rubbing both hands over his face now, his anger at Hannibal disappearing at the obvious devastation in his words. “Where is he now?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Hannibal carried on staring at the patterns in the wooden floor, “I don’t know. Murdock turned up and they went off together.”

BA let out a long sigh. “Well, at least we know he’ll be safe then.”

“I suppose,” Hannibal sounded less than convinced and as he looked up into BA’s face for the first time, the Corporal was horrified at the tears he saw standing in those blue eyes. “But BA,” and now the voice was even more broken than before, “what if he never comes back?”

BA knew what he was talking about, knew that Hannibal didn’t mean come back to the team and he just shook his head, what on earth could he say to that?

_______________________________

As Murdock unlocked the door to their hotel room, he was pleased and relieved that he’d managed to get Face this far before the damn had broken. He steered his unresponsive friend towards the bed and pushed him down before turning to the mini bar and pouring a shot of bourbon, pushing the plastic glass into Face’s hand as he sat, staring blankly at the wall.

Murdock pulled up a chair and sat in front of Face, leaning in so he could look at his expression and his chest tightened at the utter desolation he saw there. “Face,” he whispered, reaching out his hand and resting it on Face’s knee, “you in there, buddy?”

And Face’s eyes, shining with unshed tears flicked up to his, their red rims tugging at Murdock’s heart. For a second the two men just looked at each other and then Face spoke, his voice a dry whisper over the hum of the air con. “How could he?” was all he said, and as Murdock tried to formulate an appropriate reply, the untouched bourbon slid from his fingers and splashed onto the carpet as the damn finally burst.

_______________________________

Adele let herself into her hotel room and took her shoes off, throwing them across the room in a temper as she starting yanking clothes off as well. She had dressed so carefully for tonight’s meeting, even gone to the trouble of buying herself a new dress, had so wanted to make a good impression. Ever since she had got Hannibal’s phone call that morning she had been in an excited whirl, hoping that all her days of waiting were finally coming to an end. But no, nothing had changed, her damn contrary son had seen to all of that. Adele shook her head as she started taking off her makeup with a cotton wool pad, looking back at the bed with a shiver of frustration.

Well, she certainly wouldn’t be giving up on all of this just yet; she had never expected it to be easy. Danny would come round eventually; no man could resist her charms for long. And John Smith? Oh yes, he would get his day as well. All those nights she had spent fantasising about those big hands of his mapping her body, holding her down and floating her up, wondering if his cock was as magnificent as the rest of him... yes, she was still convinced she could work her magic on him as well. She may have come here for Danny, but she still felt comfortably convinced that she would be leaving with Smith as well.

Later on though, as she slept, she was perturbed to find that her dreams weren’t the lust filled adventures she had been enjoying with John Smith these past few nights, no, they were something else entirely. And as she woke up, jerking awake with the sheets all tangled around her waist, it was Danny’s face she could see in her mind, the wide eyed boy staring at her in shock as she screamed at him in a drunken rage, and the man, with the boy still recognisable in his impossibly blue eyes, standing stock still in the restaurant, devastation etched into every plane of his face.

________________________________

Murdock shifted into a more comfortable position on the bed, making sure he didn’t disturb Face who was sleeping soundly in his arms.

The storm was over, at least for now, but Murdock had been taken aback at how violent it had been, how Face had cried and sobbed, kicked out and hit, tried to leave and tried to shove Murdock out of his way and all that he’d said the whole time, the only sentence that Murdock could make out, was, “How could he?” whispered over and over again until Murdock could have quite happily strangled Hannibal Smith.

Face shifted slightly, murmuring into Murdock’s shoulder and Murdock found his grip tightening on his friend reflexively, dreading the minute when he awoke. He looked at the red figures of the clock blinking across the room, ten past three in the morning and sleep felt about as far away for him as he could possibly imagine.

Face had been sleeping for a little over an hour now, eventually collapsing in sheer emotional exhaustion after the rage that had lasted well over four hours. Four hours... Murdock shuddered at the memories; Face had really scared him, really, really freaked him out. It was like there was nothing of his mild, sweet friend left, he was alternating between this wild, frantic, desperate demon, kicking and spitting and fighting and just trying to run, and a sobbing, pathetic waif, trying to scratch at his own face, his own wrists, gouge remembrances of his pain out of his body. Murdock had never seen anything like it, found himself wondering in the back of his mind if this is what it was like for Face when he had one of his bad spells.

When one a.m had rolled around and things were no calmer, Murdock had become really frightened. Face had stripped down to his underwear, ripping his clothes in his haste to get rid of them, for what precise reason Murdock couldn’t work out. Once he was almost naked, wearing only his shorts, he stood in front of Murdock, who had his back plastered fast against the door, and the pilot could actually see Face’s heart thumping frantically under his skin. At that point he really wished for a sedative, knew that he would jump Face and stick it in his neck himself before his poor heart just gave out under the strain.

Looking at Face’s wild eyes as he stared at the door behind Murdock’s back, Murdock abruptly realised that he was way out of his depth. For a second he thought about phoning for Hannibal, let the old bastard see what he had done, but then he quailed, seriously worrying what the sight of Hannibal would do to Face in this state. So he decided on BA instead, thought he would ask the big guy to bring some knock out juice with him as well, but just as he reached for his phone, Face launched himself at the door and the whole thing started up again.

Eventually, after another two hours, had Face retreated onto the bed, moaning and rocking and holding his head in his hands and ignoring every word and every touch from his friend. Eventually, as desperation gnawed at Murdock’s edges and Face’s heart still pounded, he thought back to a daytime TV show he’d seen once about new born babies and how the contact of their mother’s skin settled them. Without another thought, Murdock slid off the bed and striped down to his briefs before lying full length next to Face’s tightly curled body and holding him, stroking him, slowly, slowly getting him to unfurl.

It took a long time, a lot of patience, but eventually Face was laid out next to him, still heaving and shuddering, but in his arms and on the bed while Murdock soothed and stroked and murmured nonsense and tried to convince himself that Face would survive this.

And that’s where they had stayed. Murdock had almost held his breath as he felt Face’s heart rate slow and the tension in his limbs slowly dissipate, and when he felt those gentle little regular huffs of breath on his neck that told him Face was asleep, well he almost cried with relief.

So, that was the first hurdle over and done with. What terrified Murdock so hard now that he couldn’t sleep himself, was the wondering what the hell to do when Face woke up again.

______________________________

The kitchen was dark and silent as Hannibal sat and stared at the door, waiting without much real hope for the sound of an engine and the bright knives of headlamps slicing through the dark. Just like his phone, however, the street outside was silent.

A man is not old until his regrets take the place of his dreams. The old proverb, that brought back memories of Uncle Abe in a nursing home, sprouting what the young John thought were terribly, terribly wise words back then, kept on circling his mind. Was that it now for him? Was he old now? All the dreams he’d had about finding freedom, leading his men safely to the other side of this mine field, finding a corner of the world where he and Face could settle down and have a life together, were they all gone now? Replaced instead with a burning, acrid regret that he had ever let Adele Armando into their lives? No, he corrected himself, that wasn’t it at all. It wasn’t a regret that he had let her in, it was a regret that he had forced her in, despite what Face had said; asked, begged of him. He closed his eyes. He was a fool, such a damn old, fool.

______________________________

Murdock watched as the curtains lightened in the wall, their patterns becoming clearer as tiny specks of light fought their way through. Face was still in his arms, breathing slow and regular, no sign of nightmare or distress and Murdock was eternally grateful to some divine entity for that; he never wanted to go through another night like last night ever again.

Face shifted slightly, turning up onto his hip, pressing his face into the junction of Murdock’s neck and shoulder and Murdock pulled him a bit tighter in, an arm around his shoulder, and arm around his waist, their bodies jammed together, and kissed a bare shoulder, hoping to settle his friend back into sleep. He wondered what the hell to do once they were both awake, wondered if he should involve Hannibal, knew that he would at least have to talk to the boss, let him know the situation and the state Face was in. Murdock knew damn well that at the very least Face being out of it like this was a security risk, and at the worst, well it could be the end of the team as they were. He shuddered at the thought of that.

There was movement in his arms and he stilled, wondering how Face would awaken, but then his heart stuttered uncomfortably as he felt lips on his neck, warm, sure, moist lips trailing a line from his neck to the top of his chest. He swallowed, hard.

“Hey, buddy,” he whispered, pulling back to try and look at Face in the eye, “how are you feeling?”

But Face didn’t answer, he just kept his mouth latched onto Murdock’s skin and upped the ante a little, sending his tongue out to swirl around the hollow of his throat while his hips started up a very gentle rocking action right into Murdock’s groin.

“Hey,” Murdock tried again feeling the blood rushing just as fast to his face as his cock, “It’s me, Facey, HM, you gonna wake up a little for me here?”

Face didn’t reply, his hips kept on rocking, thrusting a very hot and noticeable erection into Murdock’s thigh while his tongue flicked and laved, lips dropping tiny kisses onto the wet skin. Murdock closed his eyes and tried to will his traitorous body to behave, this was the last thing either of them needed right now, or ever for that matter. He loved Face, really and truly from the bottom of his heart, but not like this; it wasn’t even like he wasn’t gay because he was, one hundred percent, never been interested in a woman gay, not like Face, whose sexuality fell into the ‘yes please!’ category, but even so, he wasn’t interested. Could see the attraction, could appreciate the view, but Face was almost like his brother, and making out with your brother... well that was just a bit ew.

But how could he tell that to his body? Which, unfortunately, hadn’t seen any action other than his own hand for months now, and, even more problematic, how could he tell this to said brother-come-best-friend-come-emotionally-overwrought-bedfellow? Particularly as Face was currently grinding his hip bone into Murdock’s rapidly filling cock in an intensely erotic fashion.

Murdock forced himself to focus. “Face,” he whispered, trying to push him back a little, “come on buddy, wake up, it’s Murdock!”

“Murdock?” Face murmured and Murdock sent up a quick prayer of thanks.

“Yeah! It’s me muchacho!”

But Face didn’t stop, instead he let out a noise somewhere like a sob and a moan and latched onto Murdock a little harder, his hands now sliding around and gliding over the smooth material of his briefs. “James,” he breathed, that heartbreaking little sob there again, “please,” and Murdock screwed his eyes closed in attempted denial. “I need this, I need you...”

Murdock shook his head, “Face...”

“Please!” Face implored even harder, the kisses becoming desperate on Murdock’s skin, “I need you!”

“No, you don’t...” Murdock soothed, running his hands through Face’s sweaty hair, “It’s not me you need.”

“Right now it is!” Came the desperate reply, “I need this, I need to come, please don’t make me do it alone, please...”

And there was that sob again and Murdock wondered just what the hell was going on. He’d long suspected that the link between sex and emotion was slightly skewed in Face’s head, knew he would use sex to manipulate, as a physical release, as a means to an end, even just to pass the damn time. But this, this desperate sobbing need that had nothing to do with actual lust and more to do with the inability to cope without the release... Now Murdock was just plain worried.

He was also caught between a rock and a hard place. He knew it wasn’t him as such that Face wanted, it was the body, the heat, the reciprocation, but he feared how Face would take the rejection – he was right on the edge as it was and Murdock could not let him slip back into the state he was in in the middle of the night. He made his decision.

“Come, here,” he whispered, gathering Face as close to him as he could, jutting his hip forward on one side and bracing himself with his other leg, letting Face rut up against him, that sinful mouth licking and sucking and nipping, two large hands rubbing over his ass, massaging and kneading, while he kept his own hands relatively safe, one buried in the mass of tangled curls on the back of Face’s head, one stroking over the wide expanse of smooth back, and waited.

It didn’t take long. Face’s movements became almost frantic and his fingers were clawing at Murdock’s behind and then he stiffened, another sad little sob breaking from his lips as Murdock felt the tell tale flush of wet heat against his hip.

Instantly, Face sagged in his arms, so absolutely that Murdock feared he’d passed out. But then he heard them again, the little sobs, quiet, gentle crying, nothing like the anguished hell from the night before and Murdock just stayed right where he was, stroking and holding and whispering how everything would be alright, that Face would be alright, that this mess could be repaired.

But in the back of his mind, Murdock began to worry that Face was the one who needed the repair.

__________________________________

BA opened his eyes and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling and listening; there wasn’t a sound to be heard and he knew that was bad. He glanced at the clock, seven fifteen am and knew that ordinarily, people would be up, Hannibal who was up early most mornings unless he and Face were ‘busy’, Face who was either up at the crack of dawn or would sleep in until lunch, Murdock who seemed to sleep odd hours but would generally have everyone’s breakfast made well before eight am, but there was nothing, not a voice, or a radio, a clattered dish or a slammed door. Nothing.

He sighed and climbed out of bed.

Ten minutes later, while the house still did it’s best to act like a morgue, he walked down the stairs and almost jumped out of his skin when he saw Hannibal sitting on a kitchen chair, still wearing his suit from the previous night and obviously without a wink of sleep.

BA sighed as he opened the fridge and took the OJ out. “You been here all night?” he asked, looking at the almost untouched whiskey at his side.

“Yeah,” Hannibal replied, his voice dry and hoarse.

“No word?”

“No.”

BA slid into the other chair. “You need to get some shut eye, man,” he reached out and placed his hand gently on Hannibal’s wrinkled suit. “I’ll hold the fort here.”

But Hannibal just shook his head, “No, I’ll wait, thanks.”

BA watched for another couple of minutes and then got to his feet, sighing and started putting some breakfast together. Fool might not want to sleep; the least that BA could do was make him eat.

__________________

Face drifted back to sleep and Murdock took his chance to crawl out from under his friend’s body. He winced as he saw the damp, sticky patch on the front of his briefs and shook his head, when he’d chosen this much loved Superman pair to wear yesterday morning, he’d certainly never imagined he’d end up with Face’s spunk all over them. With one last glance to make sure Face was still asleep and that the door to the corridor was locked, Murdock slipped into the en-suite with his clothes and his phone.

__________________

BA walked back into the kitchen to find Hannibal in exactly the same position as before, untouched breakfast on the table next to him as he stared, unseeing, out of the window. He sighed, time for some tough love. “Okay, man,” he growled, and was pleased to see Hannibal jump at his voice. “You need to get yourself upstairs, smartened up and changed,” he took a deep breath, “an’ while you are up there you can pack a bag for Face,” Hannibal’s eyes were instantly on his, “we’re goin’ to meet up with Murdock.”

“Murdock?” Hannibal rose to his feet, “You’ve spoken to him?” he glanced down at his own silent and waiting phone, “Where are they? Is Face okay?”

BA wondered how best the phrase this. “They are in a hotel downtown,” he said slowly, “and the fool says that Face is... struggling... a bit.”

Hannibal frowned. “Struggling? What the fuck is that? What’s struggling mean, Bosco?”

“It means,” BA hissed through clenched teeth, “that your stupid stunt las’ night pulled the rug out from under him an’ now he don’t know which way is up!” Hannibal flushed, “That’s what I mean by struggling!”

His words had the desired effect and Hannibal looked down at the floor, shame etched across his brow. “So, will he see me? Can I talk to him? Explain?”

BA wondered what the hell there was to explain, but at the hopeful cast to Hannibal’s expression didn’t voice those thoughts. “I dunno,” he replied instead. “Murdock wants us to meet him in the corridor of their hotel so we can have a talk. He wants you there but he says that if Face don’t wanna see you, then you aint seein’ him. I said you’d be cool with that. Right?”

Hannibal nodded, fairly convinced that he would be able talk his way in to see Face once he was there. “So, what’s the bag for then?”

BA frowned, “The bag?” he queried.

“You said I should pack a bag for Face.”

The two men looked at each other for a minute and then BA sighed in sympathy. “Hannibal, man,” he whispered, hating to be the bearer of bad news, “he aint comin’ back.”

Hannibal sat down on the kitchen chair with a bump and stared blankly at BA.

________________________________

BA had called Murdock as he and Hannibal reached the hotel, and so he was waiting for them as the elevator doors slid open, edgily walking up and down in the hallway, eyes constantly flicking back to the door of his room.

Hannibal had been nervous on the way over, memories of Murdock’s words and voice and expression back in La Maison the previous evening fresh in his mind, the last thing he needed right now was another scene with the pilot. But he needn’t have worried, as he and BA stepped out onto the thick carpet, Murdock looked nothing other than relieved to see them both.

“Guys,” he breathed, eyes darting to the room and back again, “thanks for coming.” He turned to BA, “You bring the sleepy juice, big guy?”

“Yeah,” BA answered gruffly, “in your bag, man.”

“Sedative?” Hannibal said, his eyes going from Murdock to BA and back again, “What do you need that for?”

Murdock’s bloodshot eyes fell on BA, “You didn’t tell him?”

“Not all of it, no,” BA replied, clearly awkward with this conversation.

Sighing, Murdock turned to Hannibal. “Face has had a complete meltdown, bossman,” he whispered and Hannibal could see the pain and fear in his eyes.

“Meltdown?”

“Yeah. I aint never seen him like that, never. He’s been screamin’ and fightin’ and tryin’ to run and then cryin’ and wantin’ to hurt himself...” Murdock trailed off, just shaking his head at Hannibal.

There was a brief pause as Hannibal processed this information and then he sat down heavily on the chair in the corner of the hallway, head in his hands. Murdock and BA stared at each other, and then both looked down at Hannibal. “Bossman?” BA asked quietly.

He answered without looking up. “Oh, boys... it’s just, I’ve seen him like that before, years ago. And that was when he was let down by someone, badly. And now,” he shook his head again, “I’ve done it to him as well, hurt him just as much as she did.”

BA and Murdock traded glances again, both knowing what Hannibal was talking about; Face’s little foray into heterosexuality, his yearning to be a husband and father encouraged by Hannibal who’d felt he was holding his boy back. Something that should have been a few harmless weeks of experimentation followed by a mind blowing reunion, but actually turned into a ‘relationship’, eight months of Face falling harder and harder for Charisa Sosa, Hannibal acting more and more like a damn morose martyr, until that freefall ended with Face crashing head first into the ground with a engagement ring but no parachute and Hannibal scooping him up so fast that no one even saw him for over a week. Then he’d appeared again, back in Hannibal’s bed, usual smile on his face, usual devil may care attitude, but now Murdock and BA could picture what that missing week had been like...

Hannibal looked up, his eyes pleading, “Murdock,” he whispered hoarsely, “can I see him?”

Sighing, Murdock ran his hands over his face. “Look, boss,” he whispered, “I aint doing’ this to hurt you, right?” Hannibal nodded, “But I’m not pushing him into anything, that’s how we got into the mess in the first place an’ I sure as hell aint makin’ that mistake. He’s sleepin’ still, but when he wakes up, I’ll ask him. I’ll put in a good word for you, but that’s all I’ll do.”

Slowly standing up, Hannibal patted his arm, “Thank you captain,” he replied, “that’s all I would ask of you.”

Murdock bent to pick up the two holdalls from the floor and nodded at his team mates. “I’d better get back.”

Hannibal nodded and BA squeezed his shoulder, “Call us, man,” he whispered, “if you need us.”

Murdock forced out a tight smile and then turned back to the room.

He opened the door slowly, knowing that it was entirely possible to find just about anything going on in that room and peeked in, eyes taking a second to adjust to the dimness inside. The first things his eyes focussed on was a pair of scrumpled up boxer shorts on the floor next to the wall, it looked as if they had been thrown and Murdock slowly turned his eyes to the bed, dreading what he would see there.

Face was sitting on the end of the bed, a towel wrapped around his waist, his head in his hands and his red rimmed eyes on Murdock as he peered through the gloom. “Murdock...” he whispered, and the pilot guessed in an instant what had happened in his absence.

“Oh, hey, buddy,” he whispered, sliding in, closing the door softly behind him and dropping the two bags on the floor as he made his way straight to Face, dropping to the carpet at his feet, both hands resting on his bare knees. “You didn’t think I’d run out on you did you? Come on, Facey, surely you know me better than that? You know I’d never leave you.”

Face took a deep breath and Murdock could hear the shake to it; he squeezed both the knees under his hands. “I just,” Face cleared his throat and tried again, “I just thought, after what happened last night – this morning...” he scrubbed a hand over his stubble, “I just thought...”

“Face,” Murdock leant in, pushing his face right into his friend’s eye line, “stop that now.” Face stopped but wouldn’t look Murdock in the eye. “How many nights have you sat up with me in the past? How many nights have I been the one who’s lost a grip on myself?” Face didn’t answer. “How many times have you had to wrestle bottles from me? Razors? Drag me down off roofs and balconies and walls?”

Murdock paused expectantly and Face eventually shrugged.

“Yeah, exactly,” Murdock laughed darkly. “Too many to count. So I think I owed you last night, okay? Big time.”

There was a silence and Murdock watched as Face’s eyes crept over to the wall where he knew his boxers were laid. “But Murdock,” he whispered, “I...” and he trailed off, unable to complete his own sentence.

Leaning right in, Murdock put their foreheads together, sliding a hand into the curls at the back of Face’s head. “I know what happened, Face. I was here, remember? And I didn't do a single thing that I wouldn’t do again, any other time you need it. You got that?” Face pulled away and looked up at him, disbelief shining in his eyes. Murdock smiled at him and tried again. “You are my best friend in the whole world, the only person who really likes me for actually being me, crazy an’ all. I know you love Hannibal and I know he hurt you by being a jackass last night, and if that’s what you needed to make you feel better and get some more sleep and just feel that someone was there for you, then of course I would do that for you – I will always be that friend, Face. Last night, next week, next year. Whatever, whenever, that’s what friends are for.”

For a second neither of them moved and then Face leaned in again, dropping their heads together once more. “I am sorry though, HM, for putting you in that position, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You weren’t thinking,” Murdock soothed, “you were just feeling, and if what I did made you feel a bit better, then I’m thrilled, I’m more than thrilled, I’m uber-thrilled, with sprinkles on, you get me?”

He felt the muscles of his friend’s face shift as he smiled and Face replied, “Yeah, I get you.”

Pulling back, he got hold of Face’s head with both hands and dropped a hard kiss right onto the crown of his head before shifting right back and smiling. “So, how about a shower and a change of clothes and then maybe we’ll go down and get some breakfast?”

Face’s smile disappeared and he shook his head slightly, “I don’t have any other clothes...”

“Problem solved!” Murdock leapt to his feet like a Cossack dancer and turned to the bags by the door. “Hannibal and BA just been over and dropped these off for us.”

What little colour there had been in Face’s complexion suddenly drained out and his eyes flew to the door, something very similar to fear flashing through them. “Hannibal’s here?” he whispered, “Now?”

“No!” Murdock hastily reassured him. “He’s been and gone, just brought your stuff over.” He narrowed his eyes at the ways Face’s expression had tightened even more at those words and tried to be fair to Hannibal in his explanation. “He wants to see you, he wanted to see you when he came over, but I told him you were sleeping and needed just a bit more time to sort things out. But he wants to see you, Face, to explain what happened, just as soon as you feel ready.”

Murdock’s explanation seemed to leech all of the energy from Face and he just turned, crawling back up the bed and back into the sheets. “I’m tired,” he muttered, pulling the towel out from around his waist as he yanked the duvet over himself, “I think I might just go back to sleep.”

Frowning, Murdock brought the bag over and put it at the side of the bed, “You don’t want a shower? Breakfast? Room service? TV?”

“Nah,” Face’s voice was muffled by the duvet, “I just wanna sleep.”

And sure enough, even as Murdock watched him, slightly confused at the sudden change in demeanour, Face’s breathing slowed and evened out and he slipped back into sleep.

_______________________

Murdock sighed and swung his legs, kicking his heels against the brick wall and enjoying the feel of the early morning sunshine on his face. It felt good, and precious little had felt good over the last four days. Four days... he shook his head. If he had known that Face would do this, retreat into his shell like a traumatised tortoise, then he would never have brought him here, would have taken him back to the house where Hannibal and BA might have had more luck in getting through to him. As it was, Murdock felt like a terrific failure. Since that first morning, Face had hardly said three entire sentences and just slept all the time, Murdock had managed to force bits of food down him, and was getting him to drink plenty of water only by threatening him with a drip, but he hadn’t showered or dressed or left the room or shaved or done much of anything really.

Murdock had tried to talk to him, had tried to convince him to let Hannibal come to see him but nothing had worked. Even when Murdock had eventually lost all patience and ended up yelling, Face had just looked at him with sad blue eyes, apologised for being such a drain and crawled back into his nest to sleep once more. And so now, at the start of day five, Murdock was facing the uncomfortable realisation that he was going to have to do exactly as he had sworn he wouldn’t and bring Hannibal over without Face’s consent, the mere thought of such a betrayal made him want to vomit, but in all honesty, what else could he do?

He slid down off the wall around the parking lot and headed back inside to have one last go at talking some sense into Face.

___________________

The second he opened the hotel room door, he knew something was different and his stomach knotted in an instant, terrified of what he might find. The curtains were open, as was a window, cool fresh morning air hit him right in the face, fresh morning air edged with a hint of steam, and... deodorant? He walked in.

Face was sat on the bed, dressed in a pale blue short sleeved shirt and tastefully faded jeans. His hair was damp and carefully combed through, his jaw freshly shaved and he was busy tugging a sock on over his bare foot. He looked up as Murdock stepped in front of him and their eyes met.

“Face?”

“I’m sorry.”

Murdock frowned, “What?” and Face stood up, crossing the gap between them in a second and grabbing him in a bear hug.

“I’m sorry, buddy. Again. Jeez, how in hell’s name do you put up with me?”

For a second Murdock hugged him in return, and then thinking that all of this was just a little too good to be true, pulled back and carefully looked Face over. He looked better that was for sure, but there was still an unnatural paleness to his skin, a tightness around his mouth and that unmistakable shine of hurt in his eyes. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked, almost not wanting to know the answer.

Face sighed, and sat back down to tug his shoes on. “I don’t know about you, but I am fed up of the inside of this room. Let’s get going and check out and I’ll shout you breakfast somewhere, what do you say?”

Murdock watched him for a moment before nodding slowly. “Okay,” he said carefully, “let me get washed and we’re gone.”

Face smiled.

____________________________________

They ordered pancakes and orange juice and coffee and sat and watched the world go by, walking or skating, jogging or cycling down the boardwalk. The conversation was light, Murdock was still suspicious of Face’s sudden change in mood, and they people watched, joked around a little and discussed the odd story that Face pulled out of the paper at his side. And then all the pancakes were gone.

“So,” Murdock wiped syrup and cream cheese from his mouth as he looked carefully at his friend. “What gives then?”

Face instantly grew serious, and his eyes drifted to the ocean, as he took a moment to compose his thoughts. Then, without looking back at Murdock he spoke, “I’m going to meet up with her.”

Murdock didn’t have to ask who, but he frowned a little at Face’s profile. “Are you sure? I mean, are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

Face exhaled long and hard and kept his eyes fixed on the line of breakers pounding up the beach. “You know, Murdock, these last few days I’ve had a lot of time to think things through. Think about me, who I am, what I am, and more importantly what I want out of my life.”

Murdock listened in silence.

“And I realised that I’ve been a lot of things in my life, good and bad, different things to different people. Like a bloody chameleon.” He let out a wry smile and Murdock smiled with him, he was right; Face had an ability like no other to be just exactly what you needed him to be at any one time. He’d often worried that that just meant Face was never who he wanted to be.

He sighed and finally turned back to face his friend, “But there’s one thing I’ve never been, HM, never, and that’s a coward.”

Shaking his head Murdock leant back in his seat and folded his arms. “You aint a coward Face, that’s why.”

Face didn’t answer. Instead he dropped his gaze to his coffee cup and held it for a minute, twisting it this way and that way as he watched the swirling liquid inside. “You know that day when I was standing in the door in my running gear?” he eventually asked in a quiet, pensive voice. “You ever wonder what all that was about? Why I wasn’t going out?”

Murdock just shrugged, he’d hoped at the time that Face had actually been waiting for him, wanting Murdock to come down so they could make up and go running together; he acknowledged now that that probably wasn’t the case.

“I was scared,” Face answered when Murdock did not. “Scared shitless that if I went out that door then she would find me again, that damn woman would pop up like some accursed genie and tell me more things about myself that I really didn’t want to know, coward that I am.” He shook his head and Murdock could see the self-disgust in his downcast eyes. “I only went out in the end because you were with me,” he looked up into Murdock’s face, that wry smile on his lips again, “you were my big brave protector and you didn’t even know it.”

Sensing more, Murdock didn’t speak. “And then the other day, back at the hotel, I was scared again, pretended I was asleep just in case Hannibal called around, and how pathetic is that? Scared of the man who means more to me than my own life?” Face looked away again, back out to sea, too ashamed to let Murdock see his eyes. “So I had time and I thought about things and I realised that this wasn’t the way I wanted to live, frightened of the two people who should mean the most to me in life,” he shook his head, “Crazy.”

For a few minutes they drifted into silence. Murdock didn’t know what to say to Face at this point. He could see why he would be scared of running into Hannibal and Adele again after that night, but he knew that Face would never accept it if he told him that it didn’t make him a coward.

Eventually Face dragged his eyes from the surf and back to Murdock. “So, I thought about all the things I could do to change that, how I could run away, disappear, send them away, tell them I didn’t want anything else to do with them ever again...” Murdock’s gut clenched at those words but Face pushed on, “But I knew that wasn’t any solution at all, it was just making it worse, stringing out this whole fucking mess for everyone concerned. Eventually it occurred to me that the only thing I could do was meet her, face this crap head on and just man up.” He shook his head disparagingly, “What I should have done from the start.”

Murdock thought this over and fidgeted awkwardly in his seat, “But Face – are you sure about this? I mean you don't owe her anything you know.”

“I know,” Face did seem quite certain of that fact, “and I think what you said before was true, that she doesn’t have the right to come back and put any kind of claim on me now.” Their eyes met. “She left me, Murdock, and I get what BA is saying, that maybe she had a good reason and all that but the thing is... I don't even care what that reason is anymore I really don’t, because whatever it was I am sure she didn’t have to leave me on the steps of a locked orphanage in the middle of the night, with no indication of my name, my age, who the hell I was. And even if she was forced into all that cloak and dagger stuff, that somehow it was dangerous for me to know anything about myself, surely she could have left me with something from her? A letter? A sentence that said I was loved and that at some point she had wanted me, and I wasn’t just one great big mistake that needed hiding and moving on from?” It was the most he had ever said on the subject and Murdock’s throat tightened in sympathy, those garbled words the best indication of how deeply her betrayal had hurt him.

“Whatever crap she was involved with, surely she could have done that? That one little thing that would have made such a difference to a little boy that nobody wanted?” Those questions were directed straight at Murdock and he found himself shrugging again, he didn’t know what to say. Could she? Couldn’t she? What the hell were the magic words that would ease Face’s pain?

As soon as it was clear that Murdock wasn’t going to solve his conflict with one simple sentence, Face carried on. “So, I don't want to meet her, Murdock. I wish she had stayed in whatever dark hole she’s been hiding in all these years but... she’ll haunt me every day of my life if I don’t see her, I’ll expect her around every street corner and in every cafe. How can I live like that?” His eyes were huge but frighteningly empty when Murdock looked up to meet them. “I have to see her and lay this whole issue to rest.”

Murdock blew out a breath, “Well, if you think that’s right Face...”

And Face leaned in, “What? You don’t?” Murdock just stared at him, “Come on Murdock, I value your opinion here. Tell me.”

Murdock rolled his tongue around his mouth and thought. The last thing he wanted to do was influence Face, but he also didn’t want to give the impression that he had any strong feeling either way. He looked over at his friend who was staring at him, leaning over the table, his expression expectant and sighed. He would tell the truth, that’s all he would do, just tell the truth. “I think she has the world’s allocation of cheek to turn up like this and expect you to just let her into your life,” he held Face’s eyes, “but I’ve never cared one way or the other whether you see her or not, all I’ve ever cared about is that you had the chance to make a decision on your own, without anyone else pushing you one way or the other.”

Face thought about this. “Anyone else? You mean Hannibal?”

“I mean anyone else.” Murdock was desperately trying to stay neutral. “And if you tell me that this is your decision and you have made it with your own benefit at heart, then I’m thrilled for you Face, thrilled that you get the chance to find out some truths after all this time.”

Face leant back in his seat and picked up the little sachet of sugar from his saucer, rolling it slowly in his fingers as he mulled Murdock’s words over in his mind. The silence was heavy and Murdock started fidgeting, squirming one way then the other in his seat and tapping the end of his shoe against the ground. Face didn't appear to notice. “So...” Murdock eventually asked when he could stand the silence no longer, “What happens with the bossman then?”

Letting one of those rueful little smiles slip out again, Face continued fiddling with the sugar, his eyes glued to the thin tube of paper as he twisted it in his fingers. “The thing is Murdock, about Hannibal...” he paused and Murdock could see the edges of a frown as it pulled on his eyebrows. He sighed, “You know as well as I do that I can’t get by without him, it’s not even worth the effort of trying.”

There was a long silence before Murdock could bring himself to respond in a calm manner. “That’s not true, Face. Stop selling yourself short.”

“It is.” Still Face wouldn’t look up.

Murdock leant in. “So...? What? You just gonna carry on like nothing ever happened?”

Face gave this some thought, “Hmm. Probably not, we’ll have to talk about things, but, well, it really wasn’t his fault.”

Now it was Murdock’s turn to frown. After the stresses of the last few days, he really couldn’t believe he was hearing this. “Really, Faceman? Do tell.”

At last Face looked up. “Well, it’s not the first time is it? That he’s tried to sort my life out for me? And why’s that?” Murdock shrugged and Face leant in, his eyes boring in to Murdock across the table. “Because I’ve never stopped him.” There was another silence. “It’s true isn’t it? You know what he’s like, his inclination to organise and arrange and me... well, I just let him, slid from one institution to the next to Hannibal, letting everyone else make my decisions for me. So when it comes to this and something that actually matters to me, well who can blame him for taking over again?”

Murdock was less than convinced. “He didn’t have the right to make that decision for you.”

“Maybe not,” a flush of red came to Face’s cheeks, “but it’s not like I was doing a lot of decision making myself was it?”

“But that was your decision, Temp!” Murdock could feel his anger stirring that Face would happily blame himself in this way. “If that’s what you wanted to do, regardless of whatever he thought, he should have let you!”

Face just resignedly shook his head. “He was only doing what he thought was right for me.”

“Stop defending him,” Murdock knew he was being snappy, but honestly, this was beyond nuts. He folded his arms, “And you know what? I’m still worried you’re only doing this for him; meeting with her because it’s what he wants.”

But Face just smiled sadly at him. “I’ve told you, I’m doing this ‘cause I’m fed up of being scared,” he shook his head. “I mean HM, scared? I’m a fucking ranger baby!”

_______________________________

Hannibal watched the pasta in the pan as it bobbled frantically in the boiling water. He reached out and stirred it through, making sure it wasn’t sticking to the bottom of the pan before turning his attention back to the cheese sauce that was just coming up to the boil. There was something hypnotic in staring at the thick creamy liquid as each bubble slowly rose beneath the surface only to pop with a satisfying level of violence; he wondered if it was a metaphor for his relationship with Face.

Five days now. Another bubble popped and Hannibal felt like they were bubbles of hope, each one rising up within him only to burst as another day went by with no word from him at all.

He needed to face facts, the kid wasn’t coming back. He picked up the wooden spoon and absently circled it around the pan, as he thought about Face and how, really he didn’t blame him one little bit for staying away. Every time Hannibal thought about what he’d done, how he’d disregarded every damn thing Face had said to him, everything he hadn’t said, every little hidden hurt and sliver of damage that Hannibal had failed to acknowledge... no he didn’t blame him at all.

Didn’t mean he didn’t want him back though, didn’t mean he didn’t want to go and see him either, there was nothing he wanted more than that chance to explain, attempt to salvage a tiny little crumb of hope from the situation. Right now he would settle for Face just agreeing to stay on the team, maybe even agreeing to work on a friendship with Hannibal, he wasn’t stupid enough to think that their more intimate relationship could survive this, the fact that Face had stayed well, well clear of him ever since the night of the restaurant proved that to him. For twenty years they had been lovers. More than a lifetime for some, more than half a life time for Face, all destroyed in one stupid act of betrayal. He could not believe that he had been so, so stupid.

He heard the back door open behind him and quickly shook himself back into action, stirring the sauce again, muttering under his breath as he felt it sticking to the base of the pan, realising that he’d told BA that the mac and cheese would be ready about half an hour ago.

He cleared his throat, “Okay, big guy,” he said, trying to force his voice to sound as natural as possible, “you go and wash up and I’ll have this dished out in a couple of minutes.” BA didn’t answer and Hannibal frowned, hoping that he wasn’t pissed that lunch was late; a sullen BA was just about the last thing he could deal with right now. “Alright?” he queried as he started draining the pasta, “Problem with the spark plugs?”

“John...” but the voice that answered wasn’t BA’s and he suddenly realised that the person standing behind him wasn’t BA either. With an ear splitting clang he dropped the pan into the sink and spun on the spot, caught uncharacteristically off guard.

Face.

They stared at each other in silence for a moment, Hannibal’s eyes raking over his lieutenant, drinking every little bit of him in. All things considered, Face looked good, he was pale, looked a little thinner around the cheek bones maybe and his eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot, but Hannibal had been remembering how he had looked when Sosa had given him back his ring and walked out of the door on him. The sight of him curled on the floor, sobbing, totally unaware of the world around him, smelling of alcohol and vomit and urine... Those days of hell would always stay with Hannibal, and ever since the restaurant they were all he could remember, the fact that he was the one who had done that to Face this time, all he could think about.

“Kid...” he whispered, his voice rough, that little familiar endearment slipping out all on its own. He ran a shaking hand through his hair, wishing he’d bothered to wash it in the shower, run a comb through it when he got out, shave even. He had no right to look worse than Face, not when what he had done had been so completely heinous. “I’m...” he stuttered to a halt, the words he needed completely deserting him right now.

Face let out a long breath and perched on a stool against the breakfast bar. “Hannibal,” his eyes were steady as they fixed his lover across the room. “We have to talk.”

With his heart heavy and full of dread, Hannibal turned and switched the ring under the cheese sauce off. “I know.” He looked back at Face, “You want to do it in here?”

Looking back out of the window at BA and Murdock talking in the driveway Face shook his head. “No,” he replied. “Upstairs?”

Hannibal nodded and in silence they filed out of the kitchen.

__________________________

There was silence for almost five minutes as Face stood with his back to the room looking out of the window at the quiet street below. Hannibal perched on the edge of the dresser across the room from him, the bed like a huge gaping chasm between them. He wondered exactly where in all of this mess Face wanted to start, but then realised that the obligation probably fell onto him to make the first move. He straightened his back and took a deep breath. “Face. I’m sorry. Really and truly, kid, every damn thing I have done since I met that woman was wrong and I wish with all my heart I could take it back and we could start again.”

He saw Face’s shoulders slump a little. “So do I.”

Hannibal knew he needed more. “I should have told you about her straight away, I shouldn’t have pressurised you so much, I most certainly should never have arranged that fucking meeting in La Maison... Everything I did was wrong. I am so sorry.”

There was a pause and Hannibal held his breath. He could see the rigid set to Face’s back and he knew the way that the kid responded to those words would be the making or breaking of their relationship.

“I know. Forget it. It’s fine.”

He was stunned. “Fine?” he hadn’t expected that. “Face - it’s not fine! I...” And then it struck him that perhaps there was more to this, much, much more and his blood ran cold. “What is it, kid? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Face turned from the window and gave him a weary smile. “I know you were trying to look out for me and so it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

Slowly, Hannibal pushed away from the dresser and to his feet, his heart was thumping hard against his ribs and he could feel the cold sweat on his palms. “How can I not worry about it? I’m worrying even more now. This is so far from fine it’s not even possible!” He took another step in. “Why are you being like this? Tell me what’s wrong.”

Face shook his head, his eyes so sad that Hannibal felt his own tear up in response. “Hannibal, I should have trusted you. I should have talked to you, I should have told you more about how I was feeling.” He shook his head slowly, “How were you supposed to do the best thing for me when you had no idea what was going on in my head?”

Hannibal was confused, so confused and he hated it, he always liked to be three steps ahead in any situation, “Face – this isn’t your fault.”

“Maybe. But it isn’t yours either. You were just doing what you have always done and I have always let you. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have stopped you right from the start instead of just running away all the time. I’ve done a lot of that in my life, running away, and it all stops now. I’m a Ranger, time I started acting like one.”

Hannibal frowned, “What have you ever run away from?” In country, Face was one of the bravest men he had ever known.

His question was met with a wry smile. “Anything I don’t like about myself, and there’s plenty of that.” Hannibal just stared at him as he squared his shoulders. “It’s time to stop; it’s time to face some hard, unpleasant facts.”

“Like what?” Hannibal didn’t like the direction this conversation was headed.

“Like, well the way I went off the deep end when Charisa left.” Face held Hannibal’s eyes, his hands still in his pockets as he stood in front of the window. “We never talked about that, boss, did we? And then it happened again, this week, and maybe that was just because we hadn’t ever talked about it in the first place.”

But Hannibal’s mind went back to the look on the lieutenant’s face back in La Maison and he knew exactly why Face had dropped off the deep end again. “I shouldn’t have forced you into that meeting.”

Face considered this. “No. But I shouldn’t have run off when you wanted to explain to me why you did.”

“You were hurt.”

“I was. I still am,” Hannibal could see the determination in Face’s expression, “and I’m not going to run away from that feeling anymore.”

Hannibal sank to the bed, knowing, despite everything Face had said, that the troubles of the last few days were all his doing. “That meeting I set up with your mother,” he explained, “I don't even have a good reason, you know. I just thought I knew better than you did what you needed.”

Face smiled an empty smile, dropping on to the mattress next to Hannibal, a whole metre of empty space between them. “Maybe you’re right. I’ve never been such a great judge of what’s good for me.”

They sat in silence, each staring at the wardrobe doors in front of them, each thinking over the circumstances that had brought them to this point.

“Jesus, Face,” Hannibal breathed eventually, “how have we managed to get ourselves into such a huge fucking hole? And what the hell do we do about it now?”

The reply was so quiet he almost missed it, “Well, that depends on what we want.”

“I want you.” Hannibal turned to look at the side of Face’s bent head. “I’ve always wanted you and nothing will ever change that. I love you with everything that I am.” Silence met his words and for a torturous two minutes he just watched Face as Face stared at the carpet between his feet. Eventually he turned away, blowing out a shaky breath as he turned his eyes back to the wardrobes. “But, you don’t feel like that about me, obviously,” he whispered with his breath.

Face’s head snapped up, “Oh, I do! I absolutely do!” Hannibal met his eyes and could see that Face meant his words, “I just...” Face shook his head, “I feel bad Hannibal, the me you think you love doesn’t exist, I’m a completely different person.”

Hannibal frowned at him. “How’s that? I’ve spent twenty years with you Face. How can I not know you?”

The reply was instant, “Because I don’t even know myself.”

“Kid, I’m confused,” Hannibal’s frown deepened with his words.

Face steeled himself and turned back to the wardrobes. This would be much easier without having to look at Hannibal’s face as he heard the truth. His voice was low and shaky as he spoke, “I’ve started having dreams about when I was a kid,” he told Hannibal. “About when I still lived with her, and... well, things are different now.”

“Different how?” Hannibal tried to see Face’s expression, “I’m still lost here...”

Face’s voice was almost a whisper, “It seems we lived in a trailer and she was an alcoholic who didn’t really want me around. I’m an accidental bastard, Hannibal, not the person you thought I was.”

Hannibal took a moment to process this information, to decide how he should deal with it before he replied. “Face, the person I thought you were is you, and all that other stuff? That’s nothing to do with who you are, that’s how you lived. It’s different, totally different.”

Face shook his head, staring at the floor again. “But... How can you say that? How can you think it doesn’t matter?”

“Because it doesn’t!” This time the reply was instant. “Hell, Face, is this why you have been so distant with me? Because you were worried what I would think?” Face’s silence told him everything he needed to know and Hannibal bit back a sigh, he needed to chose his words very carefully to make Face understand him here. “I knew within four weeks of meeting you that you were an orphan,” he told him quietly. “I knew you’d faked that letter from your ‘parents’ to get into the Army and contacted a friend of mine back home to do some digging on you to get to the truth. He was good and found some things out, so I knew you’d been abandoned.” Hannibal could see the tips of Face’s ears and his cheeks had flushed red but he continued; Face was right, they’d stepped around these issues far too often in the past.

“Over the next year or so I put together as much information as I could on, but then you told me everything anyway. As our relationship grew, you trusted me enough to let me in and that meant so much to me.”

Face didn’t move and his voice was tight. “You never told me that.”

“No,” Hannibal exhaled. “It was never the right time, your trust was so fragile at first that I didn’t dare. And then it all seemed like so much water under the bridge, so no. I never got around to it.”

“But now?”

Hannibal was under no illusion at all about ‘now’. “Well, it’s now or never really isn’t it kid? I get the feeling that any more secrets might just blow this whole gig completely out of the water.”

Again, Face was silent.

“But anyway, the point I am trying to make is that I have always known your past could have been anything, absolutely anything at all, and that has never been an issue for me. I wasn’t in love with your past; I was in love with you.”

“And now?” the fear in Face’s voice was clear.

“Nothing’s changed,” Hannibal reassured him. “I love you, not how you used to live.”

Silence descended again and Face dropped his head into his hands, fingers tightening in his hair and Hannibal knew he was grappling with something; he waited.

Eventually Face looked up, his expression tight. “I’ve misjudged you.”

Hannibal’s mouth twisted into a flat smile, “I think we’ve misjudged each other.”

Face held his eyes and Hannibal could see his expression pale again and the way his mouth tightened; he braced himself, he knew the next words out of Face’s lips would not be ones he wanted to hear. “I’ve not always been faithful to you, John,” and he was right.

He dropped his eyes to the carpet, feeling Face’s stare on the back of his head, “I know,” he admitted, his voice almost a whisper.

It was as if the entire room froze at his words and he flicked his eyes up to take in Face’s stunned expression, those bright blue eyes fixed on Hannibal with the naked fear shining through. He shook his head and looked back at the dull grey carpet. “I’m not stupid, kid,” his voice sounded tired even to his own ears. “Nights you didn’t come back until late, stupid excuses, times when you were supposed to be staying over with Murdock.” He paused, swallowing hard. “I know there have been others, men and women. But I found some condoms in your stuff once and hoped you cared enough about me to keep us safe.”

In the silence following his words it was almost as if he could hear the house breathing.

“Jesus, boss,” Face’s voice was rough, broken. “I’m so sorry.” Another long pause, “But - you never said anything...”

Hannibal laughed, a dry, sad, laugh. “I’m an old man compared to you. The fact that you ever wanted me at all always blew my mind; it seemed only natural to me that you would need others to supplement what I could give you. And you always came back,” he shrugged. “How could I not be happy when you always came back?”

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Face turn to him, “They were never ‘supplements’, Hannibal!” he retorted. “Sometimes I just needed sex. Cold, empty, sex. I couldn’t use you for that so I went elsewhere, seemed to make sense at the time,” he frowned, wondering why it didn’t now. “Plus it added to my reputation, kept the heat off us...” he let his words drift away, knowing they were empty, meaningless in the face of what he had done. At the sight of Hannibal’s bent head, so dejected, defeated even, he tried once more, anything to get the boss to understand his logic, however warped it may be. “And of course I always came back,” he whispered, “After a night of empty, meaningless sex, coming back to you... Christ boss, it always made me realise how much I loved you.”

Another laugh, bitter this time, “But it didn’t stop you doing it again?”

“No. It didn’t.”

Silence fell again as both men stared at the floor trying to absorb what they had learnt about each other in the last ten minutes, what they had learnt about themselves.

“I don’t know what to say, John,” Face’s throat was so tight it hurt to speak, “I had no idea you knew. I never would have continued to hurt you like that. And at the time...” he shook his head, wishing he could turn the clock back. “I suppose it seemed like a good idea... I am so sorry.”

Hannibal turned to look at him, “See? You think I don't know you at all, but I do. I knew all that about you and I still loved you. Still love you now.”

Face returned his look, “I’m a fucking idiot.”

They watched each other carefully and Hannibal’s eyes narrowed as he considered. “But, well, I thought you hadn’t done it so much recently - since prison.” He shrugged, “I haven’t noticed it, anyway.”

Face shook his head emphatically, “No. I didn’t feel the need. I’d missed you so damn much while we were locked up, knew that we might never get the chance to be together again. Gave me the time to realise what I’d been risking. And all the coldness, the desperation I used to feel inside, when I would want release no matter what, I hadn’t felt that since prison either.”

For a second, Hannibal nodded, but then his eyes darkened as Face’s words hit him. “Hadn’t? Until when?”

Face forced himself to hold Hannibal’s stare and took a deep breath, “After La Maison...” he whispered, his voice shaking.

That made no sense to Hannibal and he frowned, thoughtful, “But... How? I thought you were with Murdock?” Face just looked and Hannibal felt the icy cold blast of horrific realisation wash through him, “Murdock? Oh, Jesus Christ...”

Face just crumbled, “Hannibal, don’t please!” He begged, turning into the older man, both hands on the duvet almost but not quite touching Hannibal’s thigh. “It wasn’t him it was me! I made him, I was so hurt and all the emptiness and cold came back and it was like there was something under my skin just trying to crawl out and my head was buzzing and he was trying to comfort me and I’d stripped off because all I could hear in my head was you saying how good I’d looked and I couldn’t stand that reminder of what I couldn’t have and so...” He ran out of words as Hannibal just stared, his eyes livid, but his face slack with shock.

“So, what?” The bite in Hannibal’s tone made Face cringe, “You made love with him?”

“No! God, no!” One of Face’s hands just fluttered out to touch Hannibal but he pulled it back in time, “I just... got myself off... while he held me,” his cheeks were flushed red in humiliation. “Jesus, Hannibal! I know I shouldn’t have, I know that! I just... I’m such a fucking head case sometimes. I told you – you don't know me at all!”

Yet again the silence was suffocating. Hannibal took a long deep breath and held it in, letting it out slowly as he turned away from Face. “Do you know what damage you could have done?” he asked tightly, eyes fixed on the wardrobe.

“To HM?” Face’s voice was shaking, anxious, “Yes.”

“To HM? To yourself? To the whole fucking team?” Hannibal shook his head.

There was a minute before Face replied and when he did, his voice was steadier, more in control, but also starkly resigned. “I do now, yes. And I have apologised to him, made it right. It’s okay. He’s okay. It’s over.”

There was no reply from Hannibal.

Face sat and stared at the wardrobes listening to Hannibal’s breathing next to him. He closed his eyes and dropped his head, he’d been right, Hannibal didn’t know him, had no idea of the depths he was capable of sinking to. In fact, this was probably the first time Face himself had faced up to those cold, hard truths. But that’s what he’d promised himself he would do from now, on, and that’s exactly what he would continue with, no matter how much it hurt him.

“Boss,” he had to clear his throat and start again. “Boss, listen to me. I know I have done so much that’s wrong in my time with you, and that’s what this is about, me trying to put things right.” Still no response from Hannibal. “I’m not running away anymore, not from you or from my mother or Murdock, or even myself. I’m facing up to all my shit.”

Silence, so he took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet, looking down at Hannibal’s bent head. “But I am putting some space in between us; I’m gonna move out for a while, contact my – mother – see how that goes and just be an adult on my own for a bit, okay?” Nothing. “Doesn’t mean I don’t love you. Just means, well, I know you will need some time to process all this shit. Okay? I’ll always have my phone, I’ll always answer my calls and if you ever want to see me, then I’d love to see you. You understand?”

Still nothing. Face reached out, one hand stretching towards his lover’s head but he pulled it back and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans, shoved the other one away too, took away temptation and stopped the shaking all at the same time.

He swallowed hard, “Right then...” forced his voice to be brisk, “Well, I suppose I’d better go.”

Hannibal was like a statue and Face forced himself to walk past, walk across that endless grey carpet and pause at the door, one hand in the room, one out.

“I am sorry boss, so sorry. I told you, I’m not the man you thought I was, I’m not the man I thought I was, and if that means that you’d rather not continue with this, well, that’s fine. That’s your right. Okay?”

Nothing.

Face blinked his vision clear and ran a shaky hand over his mouth. “Okay,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “Look after yourself, John. I love you.”

And he walked out.

Hannibal sat in silence, his mind whirring through everything he had heard, everything he was feeling. It was a mess, a huge damn mess and he just didn’t know what to do. It was like he was in some kind of time warp, Face’s words dropping into his consciousness minutes after they had been spoken, far too fast to make any sense out of them.

But then he heard the back door shut, and a car door open.

He was out of the door and vaulting down the stairs three at a time before he’d even had time to consider what that meant.

_________________________

Hannibal stumbled at the foot of the stairs and painfully jarred his shoulder on the wall but it didn’t slow him down at all. He leaped out of the front door and charged across the grass just in time to see a set of tail lights disappear around the corner. “Shit!” he muttered under his breath and turned, seeing the Chevy still parked in the driveway, a long figure leaning up against it, arms folded. He paused and considered his words carefully before he spoke. “Captain,” Murdock nodded back at him in greeting, “was that Face?” he gestured with his head the way the car had gone.

“Yeah. It’s a hire car.” Murdock’s tone was flat, careful.

They looked at each other as Hannibal pulled his phone from his pocket. “You and I have something to discuss,” Hannibal told him, tightly controlled emotions sounding through his voice as he pressed the speed dial.

It was, however, a gruff voice from the left that answered his comment to Murdock, “Yeah?” Hannibal looked over at BA standing in the doorway, a frown creasing his brow. “Well, I think I’ll be there for that’ little conversation as well then, Hannibal, ‘cause don’ you forget, crazy man was jus’ tryin’ to sort out the mess you lef’ behind!”

Hannibal opened his mouth to retort, but then a wary, “Boss?” sounded in his ear and he spun away from them, hearing BA’s, “C’mon, man, I’ll make you a milk shake,” as he turned all his concentration onto his phone.

“Face? Come back. Please come back, I’m sorry.”

There was a silence on the other end of the line, only the drone of the hire car’s engine could be heard, Hannibal closed his eyes.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Hannibal hated to hear that uncertainty.

“Positive. Now please just come back.”

There was another pregnant pause before, “Two minutes,” and the line went dead.

_____________________________

The second that Face pulled the car up in front of the house, Hannibal got in. The two men looked at each other over the gear stick; Face always preferred to drive a manual, before Hannibal reached over and grabbed his lieutenant’s hand, hard as if he were trying to save himself from being swept away in a swollen river.

“I shouldn’t have let you just walk out like that,” he said quietly, “we hadn’t finished all there was to say.”

Whatever hope had been shining in Face’s eyes as Hannibal got into the car with him and took his hand drained away in an instant at Hannibal’s words, and suddenly he wasn’t so sure he wanted to hear whatever was left.

Silence surrounded them and Hannibal had time to wonder if he had been too hasty in bringing Face back, if he should have waited until he’d thought this through, decided exactly what he wanted to say. But then he remembered Face’s words back in the bedroom, his resignation over everything, he had felt Face’s eyes burning into the back of his head and abruptly realised that those wary blue eyes were watching him still.

Hannibal offered him a thin smile and just started speaking, letting the words in his head come out. “It was a shock, what you told me about Murdock but...” he shook his head ruefully, “As BA has so kindly just reminded me, the whole situation was my doing, I got you into that state, I pushed you off onto him, I should have realised what my actions would do, where they would send you.” A rush of remorse hit him as he saw Face flush and turn to look out of the windshield. “And I should have realised the lengths he would go to to try and repair my damage.”

The ticking of the engine as it cooled was the only sound they could hear.

“I just,” Hannibal looked at their joined hands, watched as his thumb smoothed over the tanned skin on the back of Face’s hand, those hands that had covered every inch of his own skin over the years, hands he’d seen fight and shoot and climb, soothe and kill, help and hold. Hands that belonged to him if he let them, the greatest gift he’d ever been given, those hands, this man. “I was just jealous,” he admitted quietly, “it was bad enough when I knew you were with strangers, but Murdock, when I know how close you are, how much he loves you...” He took a breath and Face could feel the increased pressure on his hand, “Is he who you want?”

“No,” Face’s answer was instantaneous and he turned back to look at Hannibal his eyes beseeching. “Not at all, and he doesn’t want me either.” They held each other’s eyes, “Yes, I love him, but like I love BA, not like I love you. He’s my brother, I shouldn’t have done that to him; I betrayed you both.”

Hannibal could see tears starting to well up in Face’s eyes and he wasn’t going to have that, he’d hurt him too much these last few weeks as it was, all that was stopping, now. “Hey, hey, hey...” he whispered, smiling at his boy, his man. “Don’t get upset, Face. I just needed to know for sure; I would never hold you back if Murdock was what you wanted.” Face shook his head, his mouth a thin hard line, holding all that pain inside, but a single tear escaped anyway, only to be brushed away by his free hand before it had chance to go far.

Watching him for a moment, Hannibal noticed him struggling to hold it all together and turned away, staring back out of the window at the kids playing ball at the end of the road. He was so confused. Yes, he loved Face, passionately and for all time, but this business with Murdock, it had absolutely rocked him. And yes, he believed what Face was saying to him, yes, he knew that Face was in love with him, but there was still this irrational, jealous side of him that was bubbling and simmering in fury. He could feel it just below the surface, desperate to get out and strike at something, like a King Cobra – desperate to strike at Face. He felt his jaw clench, no, that wasn’t happening, not at all, he had to protect Face at all costs, even if it meant protecting him from his colonel.

He turned back and saw Face watching him, trepidation shining through his eyes; Hannibal took a deep breath. “I think you are right, kid. I think we need some space.” Face didn’t answer, but Hannibal felt the pain deep in his chest at the look of tragic resignation in his LT’s expression. “Just until we get some things worked out.”

Face blinked the moisture from his eyes and tried to force out a smile. “Sure, boss. Makes sense.” He pulled his hand out of Hannibal’s and took hold of the steering wheel, staring blankly out at the street. “I just need, urm, her number and then I can make some arrangements and I am already booked into a hotel so that’s all sorted, and we haven’t got any jobs lined up yet so that’s okay and-”

“Face,” Hannibal interrupted him, a hand on his knee and Face turned, obviously holding on to himself by the thinnest of threads. “I’m not so sure seeing your mother just yet is such a good idea.” He hadn’t missed the way that Face had stumbled over what to call her, if he couldn’t even say the word ‘mother’ comfortably, how the hell was he suppose to deal with meeting her?

Face’s eyes widened just a touch at those words and he forced out a rueful half smile, “Shit, make your mind up boss! You’ve spent forever trying to get me to do it!”

Letting his own lips turn up just a little in reply, Hannibal squeezed his knee. “Well that was before I started thinking straight, and you were right. If you don’t feel like this is the right thing, then you shouldn’t do it.”

Clearing his throat, Face reached out and turned the engine over, making sure his eyes stayed fixed on the street ahead. “No, it’s fine, boss. I’m fine; it’s no big deal really. Will be nice to catch up with her.”

Hannibal’s heart sank, “Face...”

“And I’m not being rude, boss, but I have a few errands to run, so...” he touched the accelerator ever so gently with his toe.

Suddenly, everything felt wrong. This conversation was wrong, Face leaving was wrong, this ‘space’ thing was wrong, everything was wrong. Swallowing hard, Hannibal kept his hand on Face’s knee, “You’ll be back later though? Come for some dinner, maybe a game on TV?”

There was a pause before Face shifted, just a touch, but just enough to dislodge that hand from his jeans. “Nah, I’m pretty beat. Think I’ll just turn in.”

Hannibal felt sick, “Breakfast then? Come over first thing?”

It was almost as if Face was just trying to think of an excuse to say no, and when it didn’t come he seemed to sag in his seat. “Sure,” he answered, voice flat, “what time?”

“Nine?” Hannibal said quickly, wanting to say six, midnight, now.

“Sure,” Face repeated, defeat in his voice and his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Text me her number then?” Hannibal nodded and Face touched the gas again. With a sigh, Hannibal took the hint, pausing just one moment longer, wanting a kiss or a touch or at least a look, anything, but when Face remained focused, he just slid out of his seat and closed the door behind him. He watched as a hand was raised in farewell from inside the car and then it instantly pulled away from the kerb.

Hannibal stood staring after it a long time after the noise of the engine had faded into silence.

____________________________________

Lying back in bed, Hannibal stared at his phone and wondered about the best way to reply to the text that had dropped into his inbox. He read it through again, ‘Hey boss. Don’t forget to text me that number’ and wondered for the hundredth time why Face was suddenly so keen to meet up with Adele. He shuffled around in the too large bed and tried to relax so that he could think around the pounding of his head; emotions had been running high between all of them over these last few days, and today had been no exception. The two heart to hearts he’d had with Face had really taken it out of him, and then to return to the house after Face had driven off to find Murdock and BA, milkshake in front each of them, waiting for him, had been the last thing he’d needed.

Hannibal had walked in and stopped in the doorway as he saw them look up at him, two guarded, anxious expressions turning to him the second he rounded the corner. For a moment, he almost turned and walked straight back out again, but he knew that he had responsibilities here, things needed moving forward and that would never happen if he didn’t do his job as commander of this unit properly, so he walked over, pulled out a chair and sat down.

He took a long breath, wondering the best way to begin when Murdock beat him to it. “I’m sorry, boss, if you think I was outta order with what happened with Face,” his anxiety was clear in the speed of his words, but there was a vein of steel running through them as well. “But I wasn’t doin’ it for me, I was doin’ it for him.”

Hannibal let his face fall into his hands as his elbows rested on the table and tiredly scrubbed at his eyes. He was so, so sick of all of this, all this tension and stress and worry between them. Did he doubt Face’s love for him? No, not at all. Had he ever seriously considered that Murdock was trying to take what was his? No, never. So what was the problem here then? And then it hit him right between the eyes. The only problem was his jealousy, not jealousy of the fact that there might be another man in Face’s life, no not at all, just jealousy that there was another person there, someone else who Face loved and relied on and liked to be with, even if it was in a completely different way from the way he felt about Hannibal. And what were the implications of that? That Face wasn’t supposed to have anyone in his life? No one but Hannibal? Ever? At all? He knew that was utterly and completely crazy. This was utterly and completely crazy.

He looked up to find them watching him, BA with a scowl that was darkening further with every minute and Murdock with a complexion so pale it looked as if he would pass out at any second. Hannibal met those worried eyes head on. “I know, Captain,” he said quietly, “and all I can say is thank you. I know what I did to him, I can picture the state he was in, and I know what he needs sometimes just to...” he struggled for the right word, “...just to get by.” Murdock stared back at him. “So thanks. It might not have been what anyone wanted or had planned, but it was the right thing at the time and it got him through to the other side.” He and Murdock stared at each other for another minute before Hannibal extended his hand and Murdock instantly took it, shaking firmly.

BA seemed stunned, he watched Hannibal get to his feet and squeeze Murdock’s shoulder as he headed towards the stairs, turning at the last second to catch the big guy’s eye. He paused and BA looked at him for another moment before nodding, just the once, just letting Hannibal know it was okay, he’d done the right thing. Hannibal nodded back and walked out, needing to have some time on his own to plough through everything he was feeling.

_____________________________

So, of course with all the emotional fall out, Hannibal conveniently forgot that he had promised to text Adele’s number to Face. Or rather he ignored the fact and hoped that Face had forgotten. And now it was 11.35pm and Hannibal was laid in bed staring at the message on the screen and just knowing that Face wasn’t up to seeing his mother right now, things had been too hard for him, the poor kid had had too much to struggle through on his own, he shouldn’t be doing this just now. What they should do is get some proper contact details from Adele, and pack her back off to New York, and then, when Face felt properly ready, he could arrange a meeting on his terms.

For perhaps a second, Hannibal considered taking matters into his own hands and sending Adele home by himself, but then he remembered the hell of this last week and mentally kicked himself, hadn’t he learnt his damn lesson yet?

So, finally realising that cold hard fact of life, Hannibal was left with only one option – doing exactly what Face wanted and passing the number onto him. Unless... Another alternative sprang to mind and Hannibal took a deep breath before typing his text.

‘Hey, kid. How about I contact her, make the arrangements for you? Might be easier on you both.’

He pressed send before he could start changing and retyping and deleting and rewriting and sat back to await the reply. He didn’t have to wait long, within a minute the text, ‘Whatever you say’ appeared in his inbox and he sat in silence considering it, wondering if that was Face being pissy or resigned or scamming him, intent on getting the number from another source, or whatever the hell it was. His finger hovered over the speed dial button, torn between wanting to talk to the kid and being scared that Face would think he was just bugging the life out of him. He sighed and was about to put the phone down on the bedside table when it buzzed again and the message, ‘I love you, John,’ brought a lump to his throat and tears to his eyes. It wasn’t like Face had never said it before because he had, lots of times; they often whispered it to each other in the safe black, dark of the night, wrapped in each other’s arms, sweating and sated and secure, it was more that Face had never committed it to reality like this before, made it tangible, something Hannibal could keep and read when Face wasn’t there. Hannibal didn’t pause. I love you too, kid, so much flew from his fingers and into the ether in a matter of moments. If Face had given him something real to hold on to, then Hannibal was going to return that honour straight away.

No more texts came through and Hannibal eventually drifted off, his phone with its precious message still displayed, clutched tightly in his hand.

________________________

He was up early the next morning, determined he wouldn’t sleep in and desperate to make breakfast work perfectly for them both, but it got off to a less than auspicious start.

Face arrived dead on time, and Hannibal greeted him at the door to the kitchen in his eagerness to try and make things right. He stopped as he watched the kid let himself in and his chest tightened uncomfortably as he noticed how worn Face looked, how frayed around the edges. He wanted to go to him and kiss him, take him upstairs and hold him close on the bed, lie him down and kiss away all the pain and doubt, but he had no idea if any of those things would be welcome any more so instead he leaned awkwardly over and brushed his lips against the stubble on Face’s cheek, pulling away just as Face reached for him and then freezing, at a complete loss as to what to do next.

As always it was Murdock that saved the day, rushing in to the kitchen and grabbing Face around the hips, swinging him up and off the floor, laughing as he sang, “Can we have kippers for breakfast? Mummy dear, mummy dear,” in an outrageous English accent while Face tried to swat him away and just like that all the awkwardness vanished.

“Get off me you loon,” Face grinned, eventually managing to shove Murdock away. “You know I hate bloody raw fish.”

“You are thinking of sushi, dear boy,” Murdock told him, persevering with the English accent as he drifted over to all the bacon Hannibal had cooked and heaped in a dish on the side, “Kippers are smoked herring,” Hannibal couldn’t hold back the smile as Murdock slid into seamless Scottish, “Only the best, unbruised herring are used. Och, aye, we split ‘em and salt ‘em and then smoke ‘em just the way our grandfather’s did when Rob Roy was a wee one, no artificial smoking for us laddie!”

Hannibal looked up and found Face watching him, his own smile just threatening to tip up the corners of his mouth and in that second things suddenly seemed easier, more straight forward and infinitely better. Face slid around the table to slip onto the bench seat right next to Hannibal, while Hannibal’s arm lifted to let him come close, wrapping it around the younger man’s shoulders as Murdock started pushing plates of bacon and toast across the table at them singing Loch Lomond at the top of his voice until BA yelled down from upstairs for him to be quiet.

The easier mood lasted all the way through breakfast, all the way through BA threatening many different and colourful ways to stop Murdock from singing a wide variety of Scottish folk songs that no one even realised he had known before, and right up until the point where Face disentangled himself from Hannibal’s arm and got to his feet, self consciously tugging his shirt down and announcing it was time he got going. The silence was so thick it would have needed a chain saw to get through it and BA and Murdock automatically took their cue, patting Face on the shoulder and hugging him tightly respectively before they both decided they were going to head out and pick up some food from Wal-Mart.

Hannibal looked up from where he was now slumped in his seat. “You don’t have to go,” he said tiredly.

Face smiled but it was strained. “Space, boss. Remember? How are we supposed to have a little space when we are joined at the hip all the time?” Looking at the handle of his empty coffee mug, Hannibal tried to consider this, but could only find himself ruminating on why they felt they’d needed this ‘space’ in the first place.

Moving to the door, Face picked up his car keys looking on edge and awkward again. He caught Hannibal’s eye as he glanced up and immediately turned away, staring at his hand on the door handle as he asked the question that Hannibal had been dreading since he walked in just over two hours ago.

“So... You called her then?”

Hannibal steeled himself. “No, not yet. It was too late last night and too early this morning. I’ll do it as soon as you leave.”

He instantly regretted his words, realising that he had made it sound like he actually wanted Face to go but didn’t get the chance to say anything more as his
lieutenant offered up a weak smile and pressed the door handle down. “Okay then, just arrange it for as soon as you can. The quicker this whole thing is over with, the better as far as I am concerned.” Hannibal wanted to say so much more, he wanted to tell Face not to leave but the words just wouldn’t come. With a brief, tight smile, Face was out of the door into the morning sun leaving Hannibal sat amongst the devastation of the breakfast pots and his love life.

__________________________

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

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

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

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

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

_____________________________

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

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

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

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

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

__________________________

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

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

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

___________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

___________________________

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

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

“No,” Hannibal admitted, still staring outside.

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

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

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

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

_____________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

________________________

That threw Face. In reality, he wanted to know nothing. He wanted to get up, turn around, walk away and never see this woman again for the rest of his life. But then you would never know... a little voice in his head whispered, you’d never know why she left you... And that was the thing; did he even want to know? He stared at her, utterly confused.

“Nothing to say?” Adele picked up her wine glass and sipped it carefully as she watched him. “All those complaints and now you have nothing to say?”

“Why did you leave me?” he asked quick as a flash, words tumbling out of his mouth without thought.

Adele met his eyes, her own, blue but a darker, deeper shade than his, staring impassively at him. “I had to leave you, I was in danger, I didn’t want you involved so I had to leave you behind.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he snapped at her, not in the mood for half stories and riddles right now.

Adele sighed and slowly made up her coffee before sipping it carefully and looking back at Face’s impatient expression. “As I’m sure John has already told you,” she continued levelly, “we lived together, you and I when you were little,” she narrowed her eyes at him. “You sure you can’t remember a thing about that time?” Face shook his head, not at all ready to share his dreams with anyone and Adele nodded, convinced, before she continued. “Anyway, we lived in the cutest little wooden house, right on the beach. It had blue walls and a slate roof, window boxes at every window.” She gazed off into the middle distance for a moment, a dreamy look of contentment on her face while Face wondered why he couldn’t remember that house, why he could only see the trailer in his mind. “We were happy, but we needed some money so I started working at the local casino as a croupier. Nights, weekends, that type of thing.” Face frowned and wondered why she was telling him all this.

Adele stopped and just for a moment, looked a little lost or guilty, Face wasn’t sure which. “And then I met a man,” she said quietly. “At first I thought I was the luckiest girl alive, he was rich and obviously powerful. He bought me expensive jewellery and dresses and took me out to exclusive restaurants,” her eyes were gleaming at the memory and Face was just itching to ask where he was when all of this was going on. “But then...” Adele looked down at the table, “he told me that he wanted me to turn a few tricks for him, just with ‘special friends’, as a favour, and that I would get paid for my time and trouble. I knew exactly what that meant, knew he just wanted to be my pimp.” Silence fell as Adele went back to stroking the condensation on the side of the cream jug. “So, I told him no, and that’s when I realised just how dangerous he was. He threatened me. Told me that if I didn’t work for him I would regret it. I found out he had big mob connections,” her eyes, wide and full of tears flicked up to him, “he would have killed me, Danny, and then where would that have left you?”

“Oh, I don't know,” Face replied sharply, “in an orphanage maybe?”

“No!” Adele snapped back. “Dead as well, or in one of his damn whore houses yourself, a beautiful blonde, blue eyed boy like you, men would have paid handsomely for that treat!”

Face had no reply for that.

“So I ran,” Adele continued, “and I knew that if his men caught up with me then I was in big trouble. I didn't want him to hurt you, he didn't even know you existed, so I knew I could leave you here, that you would be safe from him even if you stayed in LA.”

Silence fell between them as Face considered her words. “It never occurred to you that I may have preferred to come with you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! How could I take you with me? How could I expose you to that risk? If you stayed behind, at least you would be safe.”

“So, where did you go then?” he asked quietly.

Adele sighed. “All over. Denver first. Dallas, Miami, Chicago, Seattle... I ran for three years and eventually finished up in New York.”

Three years... Face thought. So, he’d have been seven at that point. “So why didn't you send for me then? When you were settled?”

“Oh, Danny!” Adele leaned right over the table towards him, “I thought you’d have been adopted by then, someone else’s beautiful son, happy in a huge house in the hills, a dog, playing Little League, riding your bike, leaving teeth out for the Tooth Fairy...” she looked him right in the eyes, “How was I to know that no one would want you?”

The words were like a kick in the gut. Just as he had been starting to think that maybe this wasn’t all his fault, that maybe Adele hadn’t wanted to leave him alone, she had to say that, had to remind him of the abhorrent child he was, not wanted by any of the families who’d thought that the pretty blue eyed boy was just what they needed for their family, not wanted by the COs who hadn’t had the patience to deal with his baggage, or by Sosa, who was only interested in his body, not his soul. Not wanted by anyone until he met Hannibal, Hannibal who had just told him he needed ‘space’ that, yet again, Face was just in the way. He started crumbling.

“What about my father?” the words were out of his mouth before he had even really considered speaking them. It was just a desperate last ditch effort to find that there was someone, somewhere who hadn’t consciously decided they didn't want him. Maybe his father had been looking for him, maybe Adele had told him he couldn’t have access to his son, maybe that father was still out there, thinking about the tiny baby who was now a man and whom he had never met. “Why didn't you send me to him?”

It was all getting just too much for him.

“Your father?” Adele scoffed, eyes shining cruelly. “Don’t go having wistful, apple pie thoughts of him; I have no idea who he is!”

His heart was beating so hard it hurt as his dreams came back to him making his stomach churn uncomfortably. “No? Too many to keep track of?” he spat.

She leaned back in her chair a little, anger flashing in her eyes, her hands twitching as if they wanted nothing more but to slap him across the face for his words. “No,” she answered coldly looking right into his eyes, “I was gang raped in the street one night when I was seventeen. You were the result of that.”

A slap in his face would have been a whole lot less violent than that. Face just stared at her, the last tiny little thread of normality that he’d had to cling to snapping right in front of his eyes. Somewhere in his reeling consciousness he released that he should feel sympathy for the woman sitting in front of him who had been violated in such a violent and horrific way, but all he could think about was how, despite everything else he knew or didn’t know about himself, he’d always thought that at least he had been conceived in pleasure. It may not have been planned, love may not have been an issue, but he’d just assumed that there had been a whole lot of lust at the very least, that for maybe five minutes, somebody was happy, his mother was happy, and out of that happiness, he was created.

But no. Not that, not that at all. He was only on this earth because a young girl had been assaulted, humiliated, degraded, hurt. Jesus Christ. No wonder she’d hated him, no wonder she’d dumped him, it was a miracle she hadn’t thrown him down a storm drain the day he was born. He was an abomination, a product of terror and torture, he shouldn’t even be alive.

“Danny?” her voice seemed to come from the other end of a tunnel and he looked back at her, surprised to see she looked only mildly concerned at his reaction. Why wasn’t she more upset, why wasn’t she as hurt and horrified as he was? “Are you alright?”

He just stared at her, barely hearing her enquiry and let the question burning up his throat slip out into the air between them. “So, that’s really why you left me?” He hated how he sounded, like that ignorant six year old who hadn’t seen the content of his own files yet.

“No. I told you, I had to run.”

They looked at each other. She was pale, looked a little drawn around the edges but okay, really. Like maybe she was having to tell a friend that their planned holiday had been cancelled, not that she was telling her only child that he had been conceived in a rape and then hidden in an orphanage while his mother ran from the mob. He could feel himself starting to unravel.

And then he was on his feet. “I don’t want to see you again,” he said quietly, calmly against the rage that was spinning inside of him. “I said I would meet you and I have. But don’t contact me anymore.”

Pure panic washed across her face and she stood up, grabbing his wrist hard in her thin fingers, feeling his latent strength and knowing that if he really wanted to leave, he would, that she could do absolutely nothing to stop him. Her mind was running a mile a minute, furious that her carefully planned evening and the information she had fed him had not had the effects that she had anticipated. He was supposed to feel guilty for all the effort she had gone to to protect him, the pain she had suffered in his conception, but no, he was just thinking of himself. Again.

But he couldn’t leave, no, no, no. She had too much invested in all of this now, too many hopes and bargains, she couldn’t let him go. “Danny, please,” she whispered, putting as much sorrow and desolation into her voice as she could, “please don't walk away from me like this.”

And then Face walked right into it, said the one line that opened all possibilities back up for her, gifted her a way out when only seconds before he had been so close to escape.

“Why?” he said, his voice breaking under the strain. “What do you want from me?”

Adele took a deep breath, knowing that these lines had to be delivered just right. “I want to get to know you, Danny, before it’s too late.”

“Too late?” Face frowned at her, unable to hear the prison door clang shut behind him, “Too late, why?”

She fixed him with her large, wet eyes. “I’m dying Danny. I only have months left to get to know you.”

Face stood and stared at her, his own eyes wide in shock before he turned and walked out, totally unaware of the ball and chain now trailing along behind him.

___________________________

Hannibal burst into the family room from the adjoining kitchen, his brow furrowed and his phone still grasped in his fist. “Guys, we have a problem, I need someone to go over to Adele’s hotel and see her.”

Murdock scowled and slid further down in his seat turning his eyes back to BA’s paused Guitar Hero scores. “Well I aint going,” he muttered mutinously.

BA looked at Hannibal, his head slightly to one side as he thought deeper into Hannibal’s words, looking for the reason behind them. “Why, man?” he asked quietly, taking the guitar controller from around his neck, “What’s happened?”

Hannibal grabbed the keys to the Chevy off the mantelpiece, a distracted look in his eyes. “I’m not really sure, but Face has walked out on her and she’s just called, totally hysterical, says she needs me to go over and see her.”

In a second, Murdock was bolt upright and looking over the back of his chair at Hannibal, “He walked out? What has she said to him?”

“Aw, man,” BA pointedly ignored Murdock, “what do I have to go over for? I dunno the first thing ‘bout cryin’ women... Can’t you see her?”

“Sorry,” Hannibal was standing in the doorway now, obviously itching to leave. “If Face has walked out, he’s upset. I need to go and find him.”

“I’ll come!” Murdock was on his feet in a second, imploring eyes turned to Hannibal.

“No, captain,” he paused with a hand on the door, “Someone needs to stay behind in case Face comes here. You never know, he may come looking for us.”

Murdock doubted it, but knew that Hannibal was right. He sighed and reached into his pocket pulling out a hotel key card. “You’d better take this then,” he muttered, defeat in his entire posture.

Hannibal frowned as he took it, “What’s this?”

“A spare room key for Face’s room. I made him get me one when he said he wanted to stay on his own.”

For a second it looked as though Hannibal was about to say something but then he just folded his fingers around the card and slid it into his pocket. “Okay, Murdock, thanks,” he replied quietly.

Pausing just long enough to make sure that BA knew where he was going; Hannibal turned and dashed out of the door.

______________________________________

Twenty minutes later, Hannibal was standing with his ear against Face’s hotel door, trying to silence the pulse pounding in his ears long enough so that he could work out if there had been any response to his knocking, As far as he was aware there wasn’t a sound coming from within and the thin black line he could see under the door seemed to suggest that the room was in darkness. His heart dropped; if Face wasn’t here and he hadn’t turned up at the house yet with Murdock, then where the hell was he?

Hannibal was about to turn away, go and see if he could spot Face’s hire car in the basement garage when a sudden thought struck him and he decided to check inside, see if Face was planning on coming back or not. He slid the key card in and was relieved to see the green light click on, at least that meant that he hadn’t checked out, and then he slowly and quietly opened the door.

It was dark inside, pitch black, and silent. Hannibal stood in the little walkway between the en-suite and the wardrobes and felt about for a light switch. It was a dimmer switch and he only turned it slightly, letting a dim light infuse the room and glanced around, relief gushing through him as he saw all of Face’s gear spread all over the room. At least now he knew the kid was planning on coming back, he could always just wait for him, maybe after checking out the bar.

He was turning back for the door, hand reaching for the light switch once more when he heard the faintest of sounds coming from the room beyond. He stopped and listened hard but there was nothing. His fingers closed around the dimmer switch once more, considering, and then he abruptly let go, turning back towards the room and striding in, out of the narrow passageway and right up to the corner of the double bed.

“Face?” he said, his eyes opening wide as he took in the figure sat on the carpet in the corner of the room, “What the hell’s happened?”

But he didn’t get an answer, Face just lifted his head from his knees, revealing his tear stained cheeks and held his arms out to Hannibal. Hannibal didn’t need a second invitation, he dropped to his knees on the carpet right next to him and pulled him in to his chest, relieved beyond belief to have him close and safe, but horrified by the state he was in. The reasons for that would have to wait though, he reasoned to himself as he adjusted his position, shuffling to sit on his ass propped up against the wall with Face leaning into his chest from the gap between his legs.

He wound his arms tight around Face’s shoulders, keeping him close while burying his nose into the crown of the kid’s hair, inhaling that shampoo smell that always made him feel like he was home. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured gently, “I’ve got you.” He mentally kicked himself, wishing he’d told Face more firmly that he shouldn’t be seeing Adele just yet, but he supposed the lieutenant was old enough to make his own decisions, his own mistakes, and by letting him make them and then helping him to pick up the pieces afterwards, he was doing the only thing he could.

Face wasn’t crying, he was just clinging to Hannibal’s sweatshirt, his face buried in the soft fabric and letting the boss hold him, so Hannibal carefully slipped one hand into his pocket and rushed a quick text off to Murdock before leaving his phone on the carpet next to his thigh and holding on again.

Hannibal didn't know what to say, had no idea what had happened between Face and Adele and so mostly kept quiet, just holding and rocking and kissing, telling him every now and again how loved he was, how precious, and Face just soaked it all up, silent in the space between Hannibal’s legs. An hour passed in this way, and just as Hannibal feared he would never get the feeling back into his numb behind, Face shifted and sat up, resolutely staring at the blank television screen, his eyes swollen and bloodshot.

The silence was heavy; Hannibal had no idea how best to handle this situation. So far, he’d managed to mess up every attempt he’d made at trying to help Face through this and he was determined not to make the same mistake again. He decided to let Face take the lead here, after all if the kid had actually wanted Hannibal to get involved at this point he would have come back to the house and not his hotel room. He carefully disentangled himself from his distraught lieutenant and climbed to his feet, wincing at the stiffness in his hips from being on the floor so long.

Face didn’t move, his arms looped loosely around his knees, his eyes fixed on the blank television screen in front of him as Hannibal went to the mini bar and emptied a mini bottle of Jack into one of the plastic glasses, poured himself a Johnny Walker and then set them both down on the bedside table. He glanced down at Face and his chest tightened at the look of barely controlled distress that he saw there and he realised that there was no way he could just sit and wait for Face to come to him.

He bent down, blocking Face’s view of the empty screen and unfastened the laces of the shoes in front of him before gently slipping them from Face’s unresponsive feet. Then he took both of his man’s cold hands in his own and squeezed, “Hey,” he whispered, watching the struggle for emotional control going on in the red rimmed blue eyes, “You’re not alone here, baby. I’m here; I’ll always be here for you.”

The troubled eyes flicked to Hannibal’s face and he could see Face swallow hard, building himself up to speak, “I don't want to fall apart again, boss,” he whispered, “I shouldn’t let myself do that, should be stronger.”

And that pain was back, right through the centre of Hannibal’s chest, wondering why Face always had to do this, had to beat himself up so badly about everything he did or felt. “You won’t fall apart,” Hannibal promised him, “You can let it all out without having to worry about that, I won’t let you fall apart.” But Face just stared at him and so Hannibal stood up again, pulling Face with him and started stripping him down, his voice a soothing monotone of nothing as he did so, “So let’s get you into bed then shall we? I’ll take your jacket and just leave it over the back of the chair like that, okay? I know it’s not a padded hanger, but it’ll do for now, right kid? There you go, and your vest...” Face was standing in his shirt sleeves, the vest over his slate blue shirt hugging his chest perfectly and Hannibal gritted his teeth as he felt the familiar thickening in his pants. This wasn’t the time for that, he chided himself, it was the time to make sure that Face was okay, not to jump the poor boy, no matter how fucking gorgeous he was.

“There, let’s get this off as well,” the vest was already with the jacket over the back of the chair as Hannibal’s fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, finally managing to free the last one as he smoothed it back over Face’s broad shoulders, thinking of how long it had been since he had had the pleasure of touching all this skin.

Hannibal left the grey marl undershirt on and instead unfastened Face’s trousers, dropping the zip in as non-suggestive a way as he could manage, before letting the pants slip down his lieutenant’s legs to pool on the floor at his ankles. He forced himself to keep his eyes strictly business and ignored the almost burning desire to drop a kiss onto the front of Face’s trunks, as he pulled off one trouser leg, then two, tugging socks off in the same motion.

“There you go, baby,” Hannibal whispered around the desire in his voice, “come and get into bed.”

Face let himself be guided under the duvet, wearing nothing but his marl trunks and undershirt, and Hannibal quickly stripped himself off, letting his jeans and sweatshirt stay in a heap on the carpet as he slid in behind Face, settling himself against the headboard and shuffling and tugging at his boy until he was back in the space between Hannibal’s legs, duvet loose across his chest, spine tight against the front of Hannibal’s t-shirt.

“Okay,” Hannibal kissed at the junction of neck and shoulder and leaned over, snagging the JD and passing it to Face, waiting until the kid had taken it before getting his own drink and taking a huge long gulp of it before setting it back down again and wrapping both his arms loosely around the man in front of him. “You want to tell me what happened?”

Face was silent, swirling the amber liquid around in his glass as he considered Hannibal’s question, considered what answer, if any, he felt he could give.

“She told me some things,” he eventually said and Hannibal felt that jolt in his chest once more and suddenly realised how incredibly fed up of all of this he was. He knew Face was being evasive with him, knew the kid guarded his secrets very carefully indeed and knew that it had always been that way, but now, he didn’t want it any more. He didn’t want to go into Murdock’s room on a morning secretly dreading what he would see, he didn't want to have to creep into hotel rooms wondering if Face had walked out on him, he didn't want to have any ‘space’ between them anymore, he wanted to be pressed up so tight to Face for the rest of his life, so tight you couldn’t slide a credit card between them, that’s what he wanted.

But then he looked at Face’s reflection in the screen of the television and his heart sank again as he took in his lieutenant’s expression, he could almost see those damn walls stacking up, that bland conman expression slipping into place as Face fought to hide from Hannibal, struggled to keep private the very things that they should be sharing, the things that would only bring them closer together, not drive them apart as Face feared. So Hannibal did the only thing he could think of and started talking, taking the drink from Face’s fingers and holding his man securely around the chest, meshing them together physically, he went about trying to bind them together mentally.

“You are the most precious thing in the world to me,” he said softly, his chin on Face’s shoulder. “I fell in love with you when you were just a child, and I can only marvel at how much I love you more with each passing day.” Face was silent, but Hannibal could see he was listening, his long fingers still as he concentrated on Hannibal’s words. “You said the other day that I don’t know you, that I don't know the things you are capable of, but you are so wrong, sweetheart, so, so wrong. I know you inside out, I know you better than you know yourself, because while all you see are your difficulties, the things you find hard, the mistakes you might make, I see those and all the rest as well, the beautiful, shining qualities that made you stand out from the crowd in Kuwait, that brought my eye to you even as you walked across the tarmac on the landing strip.” He paused to turn and press a kiss into the warmth of Face’s neck, feeling the fluttering of an anxious pulse under his lips, before he continued with his words.

“You are strong, mentally and physically, and so determined, once you’ve made up your mind about something, nothing will get in your way. Your streak of humanity is a mile wide, kid, the amount of times I watched you in war zones, risking everything for a stranded civilian, a barn full of panicked livestock, even the time you went back into that bombed out hovel for that damn kid’s doll...” Hannibal shook his head in disbelief, remembering how he had yelled at Face after that, been so utterly terrified that one day he would lose this incredible man from his life over something as stupid as a sobbing five year old wanting her dolly.

“You are, hands down, the best soldier I have ever had the privilege to serve with, and the finest man I have ever met.” Face turned his head to the side, away from his boss and into the wall, and Hannibal sighed, “You are so, so loyal,” he continued regardless, “once you decide to give your love and trust to someone, once that someone is one of ‘your’ people, then there is nothing you wouldn’t do for them, you’d give up your last dime, the roof over your head, your god dammed life just to keep them safe...”

Hannibal trailed off here, his throat too tight to speak as he remembered the times that Face had flung himself into terrible danger to save Hannibal from a bullet, BA from a mine, Murdock from a car wreck... The kid’s appreciation of personal safety was approaching zero at times.

“And your brain...” shaking his head slowly, Hannibal felt the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth as he remembered all the times that Face had thought his way out of trouble, the way he tweaked all of Hannibal’s plans, came up with crazy-insane ones of his own, the way his sharp intellect, courage and quick sense of humour combined to produce some of the best smart assed one-liners Hannibal had ever heard, pissing off colleagues, superior officers, bad guys and even the team from time to time. “I am constantly amazed by the things you come up with, your thoughts and ideas are always incredible, innovative and smart, like nothing else I have ever seen before.”

“But it’s your heart,” Hannibal subconsciously pulled him even closer, “your beautiful, loving, giving heart that knocks me on my ass time and time again.” He shook his head again, “The ability you have to love, to give yourself to the people you love just blows me away. I know you’ve had some tough times, Face, and I know you don’t like to talk about them; I know you think it makes you weak, and I know that you worry that one day it will all become too much for me and I will leave you. But nothing could be further from the truth, the way you are, they way you deal with all the shit you’ve had heaped on you – well, it just makes me love you all the more. ”

Hannibal watched carefully, and as expected, Face dropped his head onto his chest, refusing to let the boss see any of his features at all.

“And now you are ashamed,” Hannibal said quietly, his finger tips stroking a bare arm. “What for, honey? For having feelings? For being turned upside down by your mother appearing out of the blue?” Face didn’t answer and Hannibal sighed.

“I’m lost here, Face,” he admitted quietly. “I just don't know what to do. These last few weeks I have tried to do the right thing for you, really I have, I’ve tried to help and make things a bit easier; protect you, and I know I have just ended up making it all worse.” He slipped into silence and Face considered telling him that he didn’t need protecting, could look after himself, but then he remembered how he had crumbled the night after La Maison and held his tongue.

“So, what do I do here?” Hannibal continued the anguish clearly audible in his voice. “You are everything to me, my life, my world, my reason for living. If I can’t help you get through this, if you don’t trust me enough to tell me what’s going on, then what the hell am I doing here? What is the point of us even being together?”

Face froze rigid in his arms and he suddenly realised how his words might be interpreted. “Oh, fucking hell...” he muttered, leaning up and crawling out from under the duvet, keeping hold of Face the whole time as he scrambled forwards until he was straddling Face’s legs, hands on bare shoulders as Face looked determinedly down at the duvet. “No, baby, I’m not breaking up with you, I’m not leaving you, I don't even want all this stupid fucking ‘space’ thing you’ve got going on here!”

“Me?!” Face looked up, despair etched into his entire countenance. “That’s what you wanted!”

Hannibal blinked at him. “Me??!! You suggested it!”

“You agreed!”

Hannibal’s face fell, “Oh, sweetheart...” he moved a hand to cup Face’s cheek. “No, I don't want it. I’ve never wanted it. I want you next to me every second of every day, and when I can’t have that I want to know that you will be wherever I am in the night, pressed up close so I can touch you and hold you and kiss you and love you.” Face dropped his eyes to the covers again and Hannibal sighed. “And what has been happening in your life these last few weeks that makes you think you don’t deserve my love?”

Bingo... Hannibal thought as he saw Face’s ears flush red.

“And the dreams, Face? What’s going on there? Why won't you tell me? You always tell me,” he paused a sudden cold thought in his head, “Unless,” Face looked up at the tone of Hannibal’s voice, “Unless you do want some space...”

“No!” Face shook his head and Hannibal could see the fear in his eyes, “I don’t, boss, I really don’t I just...” he tailed off, words failing him.

“You just what, baby?” Hannibal asked gently, stroking through his hair now, “You just think that if you tell me your secrets I won't love you anymore?” Face’s silence answered his question and Hannibal sighed, trying hard to keep the frustration out of his voice. “What do I have to do to prove to you how important you are to me? All these years we’ve been together, everything we have been through together, doesn’t that tell you anything?”

“I’m sorry,” Face mumbled into his chest and Hannibal let out a long sigh.

“Don’t be sorry, kid,” he said, his voice resigned. “Just be ready to trust me, ready to let me help you. I know I have been a bit of a prick here these last weeks, but you need to talk to me, tell me what I can do to help, tell me if I’m being a prick.”

At last Face looked up, “And you’d listen to me?” he asked quietly; Hannibal felt himself sag.

“I’d try to,” he whispered, “God, Face, I’d try so hard to. Losing you...” he swallowed, “well, it’s just not an option for me.”

They looked at each other, really, honestly looked at each other and Hannibal could see all the pain in Face’s eyes, knew that there was so much that still hadn’t been said but maybe there was nothing else that could be said. His eyes fell onto Face’s lips, so soft and tempting and he leaned in ever so slowly, suddenly very, very aware of how long it had been since he had felt those lips on his, or stroked them with his thumb, or ran his tongue across their soft curves. Face didn’t move, he didn’t lean in but he certainly didn’t pull back either and that gave Hannibal the courage to continue.

He eventually stopped, millimetres away from where he wanted to be, the feel of Face’s breath on his lips. “May I?” he whispered, knowing his words were going straight into Face’s mouth, straight down to his thumping heart.

“Please...” the reply was instantaneous and Hannibal felt it as a breath across his lips as he leaned in and took his prize, gently, firmly, capturing Face’s lips with his own, kissing him slowly, thoroughly, trying to pour himself inside, trying to seal up all the cracks he’d made in his boy over the last two weeks. His hands were roaming; one settling in the back of Face’s curls, one on his bicep, right over his Ranger and his heart soared as he felt Face’s hands slide over his arms, up over his t-shirt and across his back, pulling them together, chest to chest, so that they were sharing one space again.

For long minutes they stayed like this, the kiss, slow and calm, almost like a re-introduction to their relationship, a reaffirmation of their bond. Eventually Hannibal pulled back, feeling the urgency starting to build and not wanting to go there just yet, needing other things to be reconciled first. “I love you,” he whispered, resting their foreheads together in the half light of the room.

“Oh, God, John,” Face whispered in reply, “I love you too. So much. It’s wrong how much I love you, how much I need you.”

“It’s never wrong,” Hannibal corrected him.

“It is,” Face insisted. “It is when it makes me so scared, far too scared to tell you anything; to let you share anything just in case it’s what finally drives you away.”

Hannibal pulled back, his face tense, the expression in his eyes fierce. “You will never drive me away,” he said, clear and firm. “I will never leave you. I will always, always love you. You understand me?”

Face blinked away tears, “It’s hard, boss, it’s just... hard...”

Frowning in thought, Hannibal stroked along Face’s jaw with his thumb. “But you will try though, yes? You will try, for me, to remember how much I love you and how important you are to me?”

Nodding slowly, Face blinked the tears out of his eyes and Hannibal leaned in once more, this time pressing a hard kiss right onto his boy’s forehead. “Good,” he whispered, his voice scratchy. “Good, well that’s all I can ask for right now.”

Face dropped his gaze back to the duvet and Hannibal bit back a sigh, wondering if Face would ever feel confident of his love. He slid off the long legs he was still straddling and shuffled back under the covers, moving up close to Face, turning him around so they were back to chest, Hannibal’s chin back on Face’s shoulder, his arms back around his midriff.

“Get some sleep, kid,” he whispered and Face didn’t answer, but within minutes, the quiet huffs of breath on the top of Hannibal’s arm told him that’s exactly what he had done.

________________________________

When Hannibal awoke, he was disorientated by the unfamiliar room, the dim light that surrounded him and the fact that there was no longer anyone sleeping in his arms. He sat up, turning to look over his shoulder as he did and saw Face sat on the edge of the bed, head in one hand, empty plastic cup in the other.

He sat up, propping himself up against the head board and tried to rub the sleep out of him with a hand in his hair, “Hey,” he said, glancing at the clock which read two thirty a.m., “nightmare?”

Face turned and smiled ruefully at him. “Nah, just can’t sleep, that’s all, too much in my head.”

He turned away again and Hannibal watched him for a moment, the slow steady way his back moved with each breath, the long fingers turning his cup this way and that, the hand in his hair, rhythmically squeezing as if that contact was keeping him grounded, and then he sighed and pulled the duvet back. “Come, here, Face,” he whispered, shuffling back to lying down, “you must be freezing.”

For a second it looked as if Face wasn’t moving, but then he did, putting his empty cup back on the nightstand, he turned and knelt on the bed, that same rueful smile on his lips and then he slid in, tucking his feet under the end of the duvet and creeping close to Hannibal even as the boss covered him up and pulled him in.

They lay like that for a long time, Hannibal feeling Face’s chilled skin slowly warming against him, a hand trailing up and down the smooth skin trying to soothe and settle.

“Maybe,” Hannibal was the one to eventually break the silence, “it’s time to let some of that stuff out of your head. Maybe it will feel better.”

There was no response, not until Face turned on his hip in the circle of Hannibal’s arms to spoon them up together again, Hannibal’s hands on Face’s chest, Face’s hands over the top, but still he didn’t speak.

Hannibal dropped a feather-like kiss onto the neck in front of him and tugged Face a little closer. “I know it hurts you,” he whispered, “right here,” and one of his hands splayed out on that beautiful golden chest, right over the faint pounding he could feel in his palm. “Trust me, sweetheart,” he encouraged, “let it out and together we will deal with it. You know we can, all the crap we’ve dealt with over the years, think of this like that. And remember I love you, always have, always will.”

Face still didn’t answer, but Hannibal felt him sag slightly in his arms and knew that it was coming, Face had made his decision and all he had to do now was wait.

The wait was longer than he had imagined, almost fifteen minutes of Face, tense and silent in his arms as a hand stroked smooth abs and dusted through fine chest hair until the big intake of breath, like the tide retracting before a Tsunami, told Hannibal it was here.

“She was raped,” Face told him quietly. “That’s how I was conceived, a seventeen year old girl, gang raped on the streets.”

Hannibal felt the pain for Face lance through him like a burning sword to the chest and he pulled him in even closer, pressing his lips to the neck in front of him before murmuring, “I’m sorry, baby, so sorry.” He was shocked to his core but could only imagine how distressed Face had been when he had heard. He was sure, that just like Hannibal, Face had assumed he was the product of desperate teenage sex or maybe even failed contraception, but definitely not fear and violence.

And then another thought struck him so he nuzzled into Face’s neck, making sure they were pressed together along their entire length. “You know that makes no difference to who you are though, right? The way you were conceived bears no reflection to the way you are as a person?” Face didn’t answer and Hannibal sighed, of course. Of course Face would pull this all back onto himself. “You are still you. You are still beautiful inside. You are the beautiful product of a horrible moment.” Silence. “For Adele to have to go through that, but then come away with you at the end of it, well, you must have been a comfort to her.”

“She still left me though,” Face whispered.

“Because of the rape?” Hannibal was frowning, surely if that had been her reason she would have done it as soon as he was born, not lived with him for almost five years first.

“She says not,” Hannibal had to strain to hear the words. “She said that she was being threatened by some mob guy because she wouldn’t whore for him. He didn’t know about me, so she left me behind and ran for it.”

Hannibal absently ran his fingers through the hair on Face’s chest as he mulled this information over. He supposed it made sense, she would only have been twenty two and had obviously had a tough time of things, Hannibal didn't think for one minute she had done right by Face, but he could certainly understand why she’d thought it would work. “You don't sound convinced,” Hannibal prompted and felt Face deflate in his arms once more.

“I... I’ve been having these dreams, boss,” he mumbled eventually and Hannibal could see the flush of embarrassment on the back of his ear.

“Yeah?”

“About my time with... her... before she left.”

Hannibal winced at the trouble Face was having with his words but gave him a little squeeze instead. “Go on.”

“Well, I don't know if they are true or just my imagination going wild, but...”

He stuttered to a halt and Hannibal petted the warm expanse of muscle under his hand, “It’s okay,” he whispered, “you know you can tell me.”

“Well, in my dreams, we don’t live in this sweet little beach house like she told me, we live in a trailer on the edge of some run down trailer park...” he paused, waiting for the disgusted reaction from Hannibal that never came. Encouraged he continued, “And she doesn’t work in a casino, in fact she doesn’t work at all, she just drinks and gets pissed and sleeps it off and leaves me to get my own food, and put myself to bed.” Hannibal held his breath; he could almost hear that dam breaking inside his boy. “And she’s always angry and hits me if I don’t do things right or fast enough. The other kids say she’s a tramp and she lets anyone sleep with her, and she made me steal vodka for her but then ran off and let the security guard catch me and he hit me and I had to bite and kick and scratch to get away. She goes out on a night and leaves me alone in the trailer on my own, won’t even leave the electricity on when she goes and the older kids always come around and throw stones at the windows and yell and light fires under the trailer and say they are gonna burn us alive and I hate it but when I tell her she just says I’m a baby and I need to grow up and let her have a life and that she wants to be an actress and how can she be an actress if she always has me hanging around her and bleeding her dry? And she goes out every night she’s sober and I’m so scared and I don’t want her to go out anymore and leave me and what if she never comes back? Or the trailer catches fire or one of those men she brings in touches me again or-”

Face was frantic and Hannibal uncomfortably realised that somewhere in his soliloquy, he had lost his grip on what was real and now, and what wasn’t. The kid was slipping and Hannibal had promised he wouldn’t let him, so as much as he hated to do this when Face was finally, finally, letting it all out, Hannibal needed to take it in hand.

“Hey,” he soothed, “hey, hey, baby, shhh. That’s not now, that’s all happened, all gone now.” He kissed a line along Face’s shoulder, giving him a second to try and reel his breathing back in. “I’m with you now,” he whispered, “and I will never leave you, will never let you be alone in the dark. Okay?”

In the blink of an eye, Face flipped over, burying himself in Hannibal’s chest and Hannibal held him tight, not letting him drift away, soothing and stroking and keeping him grounded, all the while whispering gentle sounds and reassuring words of love.

Minutes passed, and with them the worst of the storm. Hannibal felt Face relax against him and his breathing slow to normal. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Face whispered back. “I just don't know what’s real and what isn’t any more, John. Why would she tell me that if it wasn’t true? But then what are these dreams if not memories?”

“I don’t know,” Hannibal admitted. “Maybe they are just that, dreams. Maybe it’s just your subconscious reaction to all the stress you’ve been under.”

Face considered that. “I guess that makes sense.”

“And you know, kid,” Hannibal continued, his hands creeping under Face’s top to smooth circles over his back, “you don’t have to rush back into this thing with Adele. You can take your time; let yourself get used to everything you have learned tonight before you see her again. If you see her again.” Face was silent and Hannibal frowned as he felt him tense up once more. “Face?”

For a long moment, Face didn’t move, but then he lifted his head from Hannibal’s chest and looked him straight in the eye and Hannibal was surprised to see the guilt etched into every plane of his face. Hannibal frowned in confusion. “Face?” he repeated, wondering if he really wanted to know what was behind that look.

“She’s dying, boss...” Face whispered.

“What?!” Hannibal couldn’t believe his ears. “Dying? What the fuck do you mean by dying? Like, cancer or something dying? Months-to-live dying?”

Face just shrugged, “I dunno,” he muttered miserably, “she told me and I just walked out on her. Some fucking son I am.”

Hannibal blinked in surprise at Face’s choice of words. “Don’t,” he said harshly. “Don't even go there. She can’t expect you to act any different than that if she is going to dump all this on you the first time you meet.” Face just stared wretchedly at Hannibal. “And what happens is still up to you. Your choice for things to go as fast or slow as you want.”

But Face shook his head. “How can I do that, Hannibal?” he asked quietly. “She’s dying and she wants to get to know me. How can I say no to that?”

Hannibal wanted to tell him he could, tell him had every right to tell her to go fuck herself, but he saw the look of desperation in his expression and pulled him in for another hug instead, cradling him in against his chest. “Oh, kiddo,” he murmured, stroking through Face’s hair. “I’m so sorry that this is such a mess. You deserve more than this.”

For a couple of minutes Face was silent, but Hannibal had felt him tense up again and so was ready when the question eventually came. “You still think that, John? After all you know about me?”

Despite it being expected Hannibal had to bite back the frustration that question provoked in him. “Yes,” he forced himself to answer calmly. “You deserve everything in your life to be perfect. Everything. Nothing in your past would ever change that. I’ve told you that, kid.”

Face fell quiet once more, his breath huffing a warm trail over Hannibal’s skin. “What shall I do?” he asked eventually, sounding so lost and confused that Hannibal’s heart just broke for him.

“Whatever you want to do, baby,” Hannibal replied. “This whole thing is your gig.”

“It’s not though is it?” Face asked morosely, “It’s hers.”

There was another couple of minute’s silence before Face spoke again. “I need to go and see her again, don't I?”

“If you think that’s the right thing to do.”

Face sighed. “It’s the only thing to do.”

Hannibal squeezed him tight. “You want me to come with you?” He was desperate to come, the times Face had seen Adele so far had seen him pitching into an abyss every time. Hannibal no longer trusted her with his boy, not one tiny bit and badly wanted to be there for any future meeting to try and act as a buffer for Face, but he wouldn’t, not unless the kid wanted him to.

Face thought about this. “No,” he eventually answered. “Thanks, boss, but I’m not a baby, I can do this on my own.”

“I know you aren’t a baby,” Hannibal explained patiently, “Doesn’t mean you might not appreciate the support.”

“I’m fine,” Face insisted. “Thanks though.”

Hannibal slid back into silence, biting his tongue and hoping that Face might just get around to changing his mind.

“It’s going to be light soon,” he said eventually, his broad hand still rubbing over the smooth expanse of back under his palm, “you need to try and get some more sleep. Shall I kill the lights?”

“Whatever,” Face mumbled, “I’m too fucking tense to sleep anyway.”

Hannibal sighed, he’d felt the evidence of that under his hand for the last twenty minutes. Normally, under circumstances such as these, he wouldn’t think twice about stripping Face naked and rubbing all that tension away, but just now, after all that had happened, he really wasn’t sure how much of anything like that would be welcome. Maybe he should wait until Face asked... his hand stopped in his movements as he considered that.

“Boss?” Face asked, feeling the tension in Hannibal’s body.

But, then, Hannibal mused, maybe Face would never ask, he was proud like that, never really wanted to look weak, to look as if he actually needed something from someone. He looked down into the confused blue eyes staring back up at him and smiled, “You want a back rub, kiddo?” he offered. “See if I can’t get rid of all those knots for you?”

Face smiled, a genuine, happy smile with more than a hint of relief about it. “Would I ever!” he responded brightly, instantly sitting up and pulling his undershirt off before turning and lying face down on the bed, arms folded under him. “You know you are the best at this. Oil’s in the bathroom.

Hannibal couldn’t stop his own smile at the kid’s enthusiasm, he could be so hedonistic at times, but it was nice to see him thinking about something other than the misery that had dogged him for days now. Within minutes Hannibal was ready, straddled over Face’s thighs, warming the oil in his big hands as he admired the back in front of him, the way it tapered elegantly into the waist band of his trunks, the way the muscles shifted subtly under the skin as Face breathed. With a smile all of his own, Hannibal leaned forward and started his massage.

____________________________

Adele stomped down the corridor, the shoes she’d kicked off in the elevator swinging wildly in her hand as she made her way back to her hotel room. Total fucking disaster, that’s what her night had been Total. Fucking. Disaster. First Danny ‘out-lating’ her, then his lack of respect for her carefully orchestrated bombshells, then him walking out, walking out! when she told him of her fast approaching tragic demise, and finally that silent, surly big guy turning up to comfort her when she had specifically told John to come. Ridiculous.

But, Adele allowed herself, at least there had been a glimmer of hope in that final twist. BA, and really, what kind of a name was that? had been appalled when she had sobbed out how Danny had abandoned her in the face of her terminal illness, she’d seen real anger in his eyes as he had promised that he would make sure ‘Face’ did the right thing by his momma. Well, that was something, she admitted, that guy looked scary enough, maybe he would pound some sense into Danny’s stubborn, selfish head.

She fished her key card out of her purse and stabbed it savagely into the slot, relieved beyond belief that she was home and thinking that the night, at least, could not get any worse. She was wrong.

The second the door shut behind her she looked up and froze, first shock and then anger washing over her face in quick succession. She threw her shoes into the corner and stomped up to the two men sitting in the bucket seats at the far end of the room, snatching the bottle of brandy from the table in front of them, a tipping a large splash into an empty glass standing on the dresser.

“What,” she snarled, punctuating her sentence with a gulp of liquor, “the fuck are you two doing here?”

One of the men, older than Adele, crumpled, dirty cream suit and off-white shirt stretched to breaking point over his rather substantial gut, sent a shifty look at his smirking companion and shuffled awkwardly in his seat, not quite daring to meet Adele’s furious stare. “A-Adele, darling,” he stammered, “we just, I mean, Silas here, just wanted to see how you were.”

Adele’s grey eyes narrowed coldly, “Shut up, Eddie,” she snapped at him before turning to the other man who was now grinning broadly at her. “You aren’t interested in how I am, are you?” she hissed quietly, “You are interested in how I am getting on. How close to the money I am.”

The man called Silas simply broadened his smile, “What’s the difference?” he shrugged.

Adele shook her head and stepped away, perching on the end of her bed and glaring at them both. “Well, gentlemen, I could have saved you the bother of your long flight. The topic of money hasn’t even been broached yet, I am still trying to stop him from running away every time he sees me.”

Eddie looked concerned at that news, but Silas only laughed. “Immune to your charms is he Adele? I did warn you with this one, the whole lot of them are suspicious by nature. Why do you think I was forced to let you two amateurs into my game? If it had been that easy to get the A-Team to cough up the whereabouts of their secret money hoard, I would have done it myself a long, long time ago.”

Adele shook her head and went back to her brandy, but Eddie cast nervous glances between the two, fiddling with a loose thread on the arm of his sleeve. “Are you sure about this, Silas? About this money? None of the reports I have read about that business in Baghdad mention missing money.”

Silas’ grin disappeared and he turned dark, suspicious eyes onto his associate. “Really Eddie?” he asked quietly. “And you have access to the same restricted CIA reports as I do, do you?”

“I am a Private Detective!” Eddie answered, looking very put out by Silas’ comments.

“After a fashion...” Adele murmured into her glass earning her a smirk from Silas and a hurt glance from Eddie.

“I found Danny for you!” he protested fiercely.

“And I found you,” Silas snapped, “so let’s just move on and see if we can’t all find this damn money since Adele is failing so badly!”

Adele rounded on him instantly, refusing to be daunted by his fierce expression, the dark eyes glaring at her from underneath the equally dark shock of hair or the obvious hard muscle hiding under his charcoal grey suit. “It is in hand,” she muttered angrily, “I have started the ball rolling tonight and within days I will have Danny handing over every last dime of the team’s secret stash.”

Silas’ eyebrows rose. “Really? And why would he want to do that?”
Returning his smirk, Adele folded her arms across her ribs, pushing her breasts up just a little to show them at their best, “Because I’m dying. And I have no insurance, and can’t pay for any treatment and as you said yourself, Silas, John and his team are suckers for a lost cause.”

Silas nodded appreciatively, but Eddie still frowned, “But...” he stammered, “Smith is no fool, won’t he insist on seeing some proof before he hands over the cash?”

“And you think I’m a fool do you, Eddie?” Eddie seemed to think on this as Adele rolled her eyes, “Well, let me answer that one for you shall I? No, I’m not. I have a file as thick as my arm with doctor’s letters, x-rays, blood tests, bills... everything I would need to persuade even the most suspicious of minds that I’m running on empty here.”

“Great,” Silas got to his feet, sleek and graceful, like a hungry panther Adele thought, and Eddie scrabbled to follow him. “We’ll leave it in your hands for a few more days then, Adele, see if you can’t pull this off after all.”

Adele’s narrowed eyes tracked them to the door and as they stepped out into the corridor she followed them, standing in the doorway, staring right into Silas’ black eyes. “Don’t push me here,” she told him quietly. “Danny is my son, and if he decides to give me that money, then it’s mine. I’ll share it with you only as long as you don’t piss me off first.”

Silas looked coolly at her while Eddie fidgeted awkwardly in the corridor. Adele stared back and didn’t back down an inch when Silas stepped up to her, moving right into her personal space. “And without my brother tipping me off, you wouldn’t even know the money was there and you would still be trying to distance yourself as far as possible from Peck. So if you even think of running out on me here with my share of those dollars, I will kill you. You got that, Mrs. Armando?”

Adele held her ground. “To kill me you would have to find me. And with thirty million dollars in my purse and a very good reason to hide, I think you’d struggle. You got that Mr. Pike?”

And with a sweet smile, she closed the door in his face.

_______________________________________

Hannibal looked down at the oiled expanse of back in front of him and let his fingers trail a line parallel to the waistband of Face’s trunks for about the twentieth time. It was at moments like this that he would normally let his fingers slip under that waistband and just slide Face’s shorts down – and then the massage would turn into something completely different instead... But now he wasn’t at all sure how to play this, what was expected from him and what would be unwelcome.

“Hey,” Face’s voice, low and husky, brought Hannibal’s eyes up from their fascination with his waistband and two sets of blue irises met in the half light of the room. “You don’t have to stop, boss. Never - not with me.”

Hannibal felt his throat tighten and smiled at Face, just loving how his boy could read his mind, sense his dilemma. Then he looked down again, and took hold of those shorts, sliding them down as Face tipped his hips to help. In a moment, they were gone and Hannibal felt his cock stir in response to the sight of Face’s slightly-whiter-than-the-rest-of-him ass just waiting for the feel of his hands, and of course he obliged.

Face let out a long sigh of pleasure as those familiar hands smoothed circles that now flowed from waist to thigh without interruption and Hannibal knew that there would be a fairly substantial erection pressing into the duvet beneath him, one to rival his own perhaps.

As he rubbed and stroked and smoothed the taught flesh under his palms, Face shuffled slightly and Hannibal could feel his thighs trying to shift under his weight, trying to open and instantly he moved, lifting his weight clear as Face spread his legs and then slid into the newly opened gap between them. And this Hannibal knew, this was a dance they had shared for so many years now, and Face’s silent invitation was just what he needed to give him the confidence to take part.

He trailed an oil slick finger down the cleft of Face’s ass, loving the way he could see those toned thighs clenching and how shivers ran down the kid’s sides. “Okay?” he asked, surprised by the rough tone to his voice.

But Face only replied with a distracted, “Hmmm,” and Hannibal smiled, knowing that he was trying to grind his erection down into the mattress below.

“Here, kid,” he offered, one finger still trailing up and down the inviting warmth between Face’s buttocks, the other tugging a pillow over, shoving it underneath Face’s hips just as they rose up off the bed as Face picked up his intentions. Once he was settled, his swollen cock enfolded securely in the pillow, Hannibal looked at the sight before him and almost came on the spot. The way those hips were tilted up, all invitation and enticement, the spread of his thighs, the way he was thrusting ever so gently into the pillow beneath him, his closed eyes, long lashes curling over flushed cheeks, lips, ruby red, parted and moist as they tried to suck in enough oxygen to cope with the arousal he was feeling, and Hannibal felt a sob tear up his throat at the thought that he could have lost all this.

“Boss?” Face’s eyes fluttered open at the sound ripped from Hannibal’s heart and Hannibal found himself desperately blinking back tears, smiling at Face’s concerned expression and shifting his finger downwards, looking for that thing that would distract Face and let him slip back into rapture.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, finger finding that tight knot of muscle and pushing with a gentle insistence, “I’m okay, kid, I just...” he smiled and lost the battle with a tear that rolled over his cheek, “I fucking love you so, so much,” he admitted.

For a moment, it looked as though Face was going to respond, but then Hannibal found his way, that long, practised finger sliding right in and finding its goal instantly. “I – oh!” Face breathed, his hips snapping down into the pillow as Hannibal’s finger gently rubbed and circled over his swollen prostate. “God, boss, I love you too.”

Hannibal smiled and continued with his stroking, one hand spreading open those firm cheeks so that he could watch his finger sliding in and out, circling and fondling, while Face writhed underneath him, and then a sudden thought struck him, a realisation of what he could do to make this incredible for Face, a way to show him how very special he was.

He waited until Face dropped his head back onto his folded arms and closed his eyes and then started shuffling around, adjusting his position until he was close enough to bend over and swipe his tongue down the warm skin of cleft until it found the point where his finger slipped inside, and then he circled the digit slowly. Face let out a long moan, his hips bucking up to meet Hannibal’s warm, wet tongue, and he turned his head again, eyes wide, irises blown as he looked at Hannibal, “Boss,” he gasped, craning his neck to watch Hannibal’s head as it dipped up and down with every sweep and curl of his tongue, “You don’t have to do this.”

Hannibal lifted up, keeping his finger in place, swirling and stroking as he smiled back. “Of course I don’t have to, Face,” he watched, his own arousal building, as Face’s expression reflected every sweep of his finger. “I want to; I know how much you love it.” And he did. Face loved being rimmed more than anything else they did, but it tended not to happen that often, and seeing the way that Face’s irises had almost disappeared in the black of his dilated pupils, he was starting to regret that fact right now. Face gasped quietly as Hannibal pressed against his swollen prostate and his eyes fluttered shut in bliss making Hannibal’s cock jump in his shorts. “Let me,” he whispered in the voice he saved for moments like this, “you have no idea how much I want to.”

Face certainly wasn’t about to argue anymore; he was happy that Hannibal wasn’t doing this under some false sense of obligation and so lay back down on his arms, his cock trapped firmly between his stomach and the pillow and opened his thighs a tiny bit further to give Hannibal even better access. “I love you,” was all he breathed as he felt that warm tongue swiping towards his entrance once more.

This time Hannibal made sure he was comfortable. He kept his finger pushed right in, but swirled his tongue around and around his digit, making the whole area slick with saliva. Face was gently rolling his hips in and out of the pillow, his breath steadily becoming heavier, his buttocks, which Hannibal was spreading with one large hand, flushed with hot, fresh blood. Briefly sliding another finger in alongside the first, Hannibal quickly scissored the stretching hole before pulling completely out and slipping his tongue straight in, pushing the taught muscle as far as it would go into Face welcoming heat.

“Oh!” Face thrust erratically into the pillow as he felt that warm, wet intrusion into his most private of places. “Jesus, boss,” he gasped, “you have no idea how good that feels...”

Hannibal would have smiled, but he was too busy licking around the velvety smooth sides of Face’s insides, twisting his tongue as much as he possibly could, flicking the tip into clenching muscles, teasing and stroking while enjoying every twitch and moan he was wringing from Face. And then he pulled out, slowly drawing his slick tongue from the grasping hole, only to swirl it around the puckered opening and then push straight back in. Yet again Face bucked, his breathy moans getting louder by the second and Hannibal knew it was time to bring this to a spectacular conclusion.

Three times more he slowly, slowly withdrew only to push straight back in again, and then the fourth time he slipped his finger in, competing for space in the tight channel with his tongue.

With practised ease, the soft pad of Hannibal’s finger found Face’s prostate once more and started up a rhythmic stimulation while his tongue thrust alongside. Face soon picked up on the rhythm and the rocking of his hips became more pronounced, his breathing more laboured and Hannibal could just picture how he would look, fists tight in the bedding, eyes shut tight, lips parted as he tipped closer and closer to his orgasm. And then Hannibal felt Face’s thighs, pressed tight to his own shoulders, start to tighten and he quickened his pace, knowing the edge was fast approaching. His own cock, ignored and drooling precum all over the inside of his shorts, was throbbing in time with his tongue thrusts and he couldn’t overlook it any more. He pulled his hand from Face’s ass, feeling the delicious press of flesh against his face and frantically shoved his own shorts down, taking hold of his pulsing cock just as Face’s thrusts started to get erratic and his moans of pleasure became desperate grunts.

He frantically worked his own cock with one hand whilst pushing Face’s prostate over the edge with the other. The hoarse cry from the top of the bed, followed by those thrusting hips stuttering to a halt and the spasming of the smooth walls around his tongue, told Hannibal that his boy had reached the edge and was now free falling into ecstatic oblivion, twitching with every spurt of his cock, while Hannibal’s fist quickly drew out his own orgasm.

As soon as that clenching around his tongue had stilled and Face had slumped, a boneless heap, into the duvet, Hannibal gently pulled out his finger and his tongue, feeling the previously unnoticed ache of his jaw, and wiping his hand clean of his own semen on the sheets. He lapped gently at the stretched hole, removing some of the saliva that was dripping a shining train down towards Face’s balls and pressed a loving kiss right on the puckered muscle. Then he crawled up the bed, kicking his shorts off as he went and suddenly feeling every minute of missed sleep. He hauled Face’s limp body out of the two sticky patches they’d made and over to the clean side of the bed and with the very last of his energy, he pulled off his t-shirt and then tugged Face up against him before yanking the duvet up to cover them both. He stretched out a hand, only just managing to poke a finger tip at the light switch and as the room fell into darkness, he felt Face shift and settle against his chest.

“I love you, John,” came the mumbled voice, right against Hannibal’s skin, and Hannibal slid his arms around the warm body nestled against him and dropped a fiercely possessive kiss down into his hair.

“I love you too, Temp,” he whispered, “with everything I am.”

Face pressed a sloppy kiss to Hannibal’s chest in reply and within minutes they were both asleep.

__________________________

When Hannibal awoke, there was a thin line of sunshine trying to edge around the sides of the curtains and an empty space in the bed next to him. “Face?” his voice was sleep roughened and he looked towards the silent en-suite, heart thumping in mounting panic. “Face?!”

Silence was the only reply he had to his call, and as he flicked the light on and swung his legs out of the bed he suddenly noticed the lack of clothing strewn around the room, the lack of toiletries on the bathroom shelf, the lack of shoes on the floor by the door and his heart fell hard into his stomach. “Face?” he asked again, this time not expecting an answer and his head fell into his hands. “He’s gone,” he whispered to the empty room, knowing damn well that if Face wanted to disappear from them all he would. In the blink of an eye he could make himself vanish, Templeton Peck would simply cease to exist and Face would become anyone he wanted to be.

Hannibal’s fingers squeezed through his hair and then he reached down to pick up his dried, sticky shorts up off the floor wondering on how likely it would be that Face would answer his phone. He knew that Face hadn’t run from him, not really, had run from Adele and the pressures that he couldn’t cope with but Hannibal wasn’t stupid enough to think that he had helped Face at all through this, no, if anything he had made the whole ordeal a damn sight harder for Face than it could have been. It was just tragic that last night’s attempt to prove to Face that things were changing hadn’t convinced him at all.

He threw the soiled shorts disgustedly away from him, realising he couldn’t wear them and let his head fall into his hands again as the room started to blur around him. Hannibal was a pragmatic, practical person by nature who rarely let events get on top of him, but just then all he needed was to sit and wallow in misery for a while, rehashing the events of the last couple of weeks and drawing out every damn thing he had done wrong.

He was vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps in the corridor outside but froze mid-breath when he heard them stop outside the door, the sound of a key card being inserted sent his heart back into overdrive and then the door swung open revealing Face balancing two coffee cups on top of each other, a large brown paper bag under one arm, and another in his teeth as he struggled to tug the key card from the lock.

Hannibal just stared, blinking away the moisture from his eyes as he watched Face kick the door shut behind him before taking the bag from his teeth and turning to smile at Hannibal. The smile died on his lips however as he took in the expression on his commander’s face as he sat naked on the side of the bed and he instantly dumped all his bags and cups on the dresser falling to his knees in front of Hannibal and pulling him in to a fierce embrace. “Oh, boss,” he whispered, knowing instantly what was wrong and feeling Hannibal’s arms tighten around him, “I’d never walk out on you, never. I’m sorry I didn’t leave a note, I didn’t think I’d be that long – I only went to get breakfast!”

Hannibal felt his face flush in embarrassment at his over reaction to the situation and pulled Face even closer towards him, smelling the familiar combination of shampoo and body spray and letting the relief of having him back wash through him. “I know,” he muttered into Face’s neck, “I’m sorry, kid. I just thought,” he swallowed hard, “these past weeks, I just thought I’d pushed you away.”

Now it was Face’s arms that tightened and Hannibal had to squeeze his eyes tightly shut against the moisture he felt welling up there. “Never,” Face replied thickly. “You’re everything to me John, everything.” Hannibal could hear the emotion in Face’s voice now and felt a surge of guilt at upsetting him yet again. “How would I ever get through this business with Adele without you here to support me?”

Time seem to stand still as they held each other in the silent hotel room, but in that silence, Hannibal decided that that’s exactly what he would do from now on, all choices were Face’s, all decisions were his alone. Hannibal would be there with him, every step of the way but supporting, not commanding, and maybe then he would be the partner that Face deserved.

_________________________________

Two hours later saw them both stepping from the Chevy outside the house and Hannibal opening the door into the kitchen. It hadn’t taken them long to eat and leave the hotel; Face’s things were already packed and waiting in the hire car, all they needed to do was drop it back at the depot and then they were ready to head for home.

They stepped into the kitchen to find BA and Murdock sat at the table, obviously waiting for them, with an atmosphere so thick you could cut it with a knife. Hannibal paused in the doorway, his keys still in his hand and Face walked into him as the boss’ eyes flicked from BA to Murdock and back again trying to weigh the situation up. “Boys,” he muttered, partly in greeting, partly in question and felt Face step up next to him, their fingers just brushing together ever so gently.

Within a second, BA was on his feet, his dark eyes narrowed at Face as he leaned over the table in a very menacing manner. “You,” he ground out in his deep voice, “are well outta order here, pretty boy!”

Murdock rose as well; his hand pushing aside a thick folder on the table top next to BA’s fist as he turned to Face, just as Hannibal reached a hand out, pressing firmly into the small of Face’s back. “Now, BA,” he started, but his words were ignored.

“Two hours!” BA exploded, eyes for no one but Face, “Two hours I had your momma cryin’ on my shoulder last night! Two hours, ‘cause she’s dyin’ and she told you an’ you don’t give a fuck!”

Hannibal and Murdock moved together, Hannibal moving his hand to Face’s arm and gripping tightly and Murdock shoving at BA’s massive chest, trying to get him to sit down.

“BA...” Hannibal warned just as Murdock hissed, “Enough Bosco!”

Face’s expression, however, was carefully blank and he just blinked as BA shook Murdock’s hand off and stalked around the table, trying to get right up into his personal space. There was, of course, no way that Hannibal was going to allow that, and even as Murdock dashed around the table himself, Hannibal stepped right in front of Face, both his hands reaching up to press against BA’s chest. “Stand down, Corporal,” he warned, his voice quiet but full of every bit of CO-ness he couldn’t muster.

“No!” BA growled, trying to get around Hannibal to Face, “He needs tellin’, Hannibal, had his head up his ass for too long now! This aint about him no more, it’s about her!”

“No,” Hannibal’s voice was calm and quiet as he kept himself between a still silent Face and a seething BA, “Her choice was to walk away, this is Face’s choice now.”

“She never had no choice, man!” BA exploded, “Just like she aint got no choice now! And it’s about time this fool stopped thinkin’ about himself and thought about some others for a change!”

That comment snapped Hannibal’s patience and Murdock could see the second his eyes turned into blue ice. “That’s just about enough, now Corporal!” he barked. “You do not have the right to speak to Face like that. You don't have the right to speak to any of this team like that.” The glare he shot at BA was openly hostile. “No one tells you how to run your life, BA and you will not tell Face how to run his. You understand that?”

BA shifted his eyes to Hannibal. “Well, it’s clear whose side you are on...” he muttered.

Hannibal ignored that jibe, “You understand that?” he repeated instead.

There was a second of tense silence before BA answered, “Yes, sir,” he muttered thickly, “I understand it all only too well!” and then he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

For a beat, no one moved and then both Hannibal and Murdock froze as Face let out a long sigh and bent to pick up the bag he had dropped by the door. To the relief of both men in the room, he simply slung it over his shoulder and headed for the hallway and the stairs beyond. “I’m going to unpack,” he threw behind him as he disappeared. “You’d better phone her Hannibal, see if you can set something up for this afternoon before I change my mind. Outside. In daylight hours. If I have to meet the Queen of Darkness again, at least it’ll be on my terms this time.”

His footsteps faded up the stairs and Hannibal let out his own pent up breath before slumping into a seat and fishing his phone from his pocket.

“So,” Murdock slid back into his own seat, “it’s true then? She’s dyin’?”

Hannibal shook his head. “I guess so, Murdock. I mean that’s what she told Face, and I’m guessing after that little show, that’s what she told BA as well.”

Frowning, Murdock tapped the folder on the table. “She gave the big guy this as well.”

Tearing his eyes from his phone, Hannibal looked over at it. “Is that her medical file?” he asked incredulously.

“So she says,” Murdock answered evenly pushing the file over to Hannibal.

For the better part of ten minutes, neither of them spoke as Hannibal carefully leafed through all the letters, reports, prescriptions and bills in the folder before sighing and closing it up again. He looked carefully at Murdock. “So, you’ve seen all this, but you still ask me if it’s true?” Murdock shrugged and Hannibal frowned. “Come on captain,” he said quietly, “tell me what’s on your mind.”

Murdock returned his stare silently for a moment before folding his arms across his chest and tucking his hands tightly under his arms. “Dunno what you mean, boss.”

Hannibal held his gaze, “Murdock, I’m not going to yell at you here son, I genuinely want to know what’s going on.”

There was no missing the indecision in Murdock’s eyes, but then came the little exhale of air and a decision made. “That file boss,” he said quietly, his eyes staring at the file as if it could bite him, “it’s just...” he tailed off again and Hannibal waited silently. “It’s just, I aint never seen a file that neat before, you know?”

“Neat?” Now it was Hannibal’s turn to look confused. “Neat?” he queried, “Is that a problem?”

“Well,” Murdock was nervously chewing his cuticles, “Like I said, I’ve seen a lot of medical files in my time, Hannibal and I aint never seen one that neat.”

“Maybe she’s a neat freak?” Hannibal offered flatly.

Murdock shrugged, “But that don't make no difference, boss, ‘cause she aint the one who would be puttin’ all them bits o’ paper in there.” Hannibal’s eyes dropped to the file once more as Murdock continued. “All the office staff, they do the filin’ and they aint ever neat.” He leaned over and opened the folder pointing things out to Hannibal. “You see boss? The way all the paper lines up? The way that all them little holes have been punched in the same place? You tellin’ me that a loada different office clerks would make the effort to make stuff that neat?” He shook his head.

Hannibal looked at the file with new eyes and did indeed see the way that all the papers were perfectly aligned with one another. “So, what are you saying?” he prompted carefully. “You think she’s faking all this?” his voice had dropped to a scratchy whisper.

Murdock rubbed a nervous hand through his hair, “What I’m sayin’ boss, is I think all these bits of paper been put in this file at the same time by the same person. I dunno if that means she’s fakin’ or not.” He shrugged and Hannibal stared at the closed folder. “I could find out though...” Murdock offered into the silence, very, very carefully.

Blue eyes looked up from the file and locked with grey. “Do it,” Hannibal ordered quietly.

“You sure?” Murdock asked.

“Positive. She might be his mother, but I don't trust her anymore, not one little tiny bit.”

Murdock nodded in agreement, and lifting the file up off the table, went in search of a photocopier.

_____________________________________

Face trailed a foot backwards and forwards in the sand under his feet as he wiped the condensation from the neck of his bottle of beer. She was late, forty minutes late, and if she wasn’t here in another five, he was calling Hannibal and getting him to pick him up early – no way was he hanging around any longer for her.

He’d managed to get one of the best tables at the Paradise Cove Beach Bar, right on the beach, but up in the corner, almost backing onto the cliffs so with an element of privacy that none of the other tables afforded, and all it had cost him was a smile. Talia, the waitress who’d got him this table and was only working here until she got her first acting job, wandered past yet again, smiling sympathetically at him, while wondering if he would take her out if his date never actually appeared. He turned his blue eyes on her and noticed the flush run across her cheeks, “Talia, honey,” he flashed his smile, “can I have another Bud when you have a minute?”

“You’d better bring a dry martini with you as well, dear,” came a voice from behind him, and Face knew that his expression fell just as much as Talia’s on hearing it. As the waitress moved off to comply, wondering what on earth the guy with the incredible smile saw in that old lady, Adele leaned over Face and air kissed theatrically before sliding into her seat and looking around with a scowl of disdain. “Really, Danny,” she said sourly, “was this the only place you could think of to meet? Couldn’t we at least have gone somewhere with a dress code?”

Resigning himself to the fact that she obviously wasn’t going to stop calling him Danny, Face felt a savage thrill of pleasure run through him at her words as he noted that her attire, navy halter neck sundress and white leather sling backs, was less than suited to beach dining. He himself couldn’t have been more comfortable, ratty denim cut offs, his old Ranger t-shirt in a dusky, khaki green and a beaten up Texas Rangers baseball cap that even Murdock wouldn’t wear anymore. He’d kicked his flip flops off his feet the second he’d sat down and was now digging his bare toes into the sand as he watched Adele looking him over, obviously not liking what she saw.

He was saved from the barb of her comment on his appearance by a now sullen Talia’s return and he had to stifle a smile as she slammed Adele’s martini down on the table with so much force that the little olive almost jumped into the sand. With yet another sympathetic smile, she set Face’s beer gently down on his drinks mat and disappeared across the sand, back into the main bar area. Face watched her go, wishing she would stay, wishing he could spend an hour in her company rather than Adele’s. But then, he mused to himself, there weren’t many people he wouldn’t choose over Adele; he wondered if Colonel Gadaffi was free tonight...

He still hadn’t spoken, was still unsure on how to play all of this, so instead he reached down onto his lap and pulled out the medical file, sliding it across the table towards her. “Yours, I believe,” he said quietly, not quite managing to meet her eyes. She seemed a little taken aback by his manner and he felt a flush of shame around his neck. Taking a deep breath he looked over at her, “So...” he cleared his throat, “leukaemia. That’s – not good,” he finished lamely.

Adele tilted her head to one side as she considered him, before sighing, long and loud. “No, it’s really not, but it’s a hopeless situation, so what can I do? I just have to accept my lot in life.”

Face took a swig of beer, “Why don't you have medical?” he asked bluntly.

For a second Adele looked a little harried, but she quickly got it back under control. “My husband dealt with all of that,” she told him sadly, “when he died, I just didn’t realise it hadn’t happened.”

They slipped into silence as Face considered this, staring out at the blue sea and the white waves. He thought about how it would be for him if Hannibal died, how lost he would feel, would he forget something like medical insurance? Probably. If something happened to Hannibal he knew he would probably forget to live. “Right,” he said, not meeting her eyes and wondering if she loved her husband anywhere near as much as he loved Hannibal.

“There are treatments,” Adele continued, “but without insurance, there’s no way I could cover the costs. It would run into millions of dollars...”

Face looked up sharply. Millions of dollars? That was the first he’d heard about costs being that high; of course he knew that health care was expensive, but even so. He suddenly found himself wishing he had that kind of money; if he had he would gladly pay it just to get her out of his life. The only reason he was sitting with her right now was the fact that he felt guilty, that she was dying and wanted to get to know him, and how could he deny a dying person anything? If he could save her life, he could get her out of his.

But maybe there was something he could do. Whenever the team were injured he had a stock of fake ids he used, always made sure he had a few in reserve along with passports, driver’s licences that sort of thing. Maybe he could do the same for Adele, maybe he could invent a whole new identity for her so she could have this expensive treatment whatever it was. For a minute the whole thing seemed a possibility but then he thought about the costs involved, and how stringent the checks would be for that kind of money. When he did this for the team it was always in a ‘hit and run’ type situation, they were long gone before anyone had even realised that they might not be who they said they were. For Adele, and the long term care that she would require, that wasn’t such a great option. But he would look into it, definitely, see what he could work out for her.

Adele watched him carefully as he stared out to sea; he really was beautiful. She could see lots of herself in him, but lots of his father as well, and found herself wondering for the first time which of his father’s traits he had inherited, if he was the same eternal do-gooder, the same door mat for the rest of humanity to walk over. She shook such memories from her mind as she saw him turn to her; a decision obviously made and steeled herself to react with awed, grateful shock when he offered her that money.

“I’ll look into some things for you,” he eventually offered and Adele found that she didn’t need to fake the shock at all, but unfortunately there was no need for the awe and thankfulness which she’d hoped would come with it.

She narrowed her eyes at him, appalled that his love of money would come between her and her life. “I’m sure there is nothing you can do,” she answered a little curtly, “unless you happen to have a few million tucked away in a bank somewhere that is.” Face laughed, a real genuine sign of amusement and Adele flushed, she’d never liked being unintentionally funny. “What?” she bit out.

Forcing back his laughter, Face took a swig of beer before gesturing down at himself, “Do I look like I have a few million dollars tucked away somewhere?” He shook his head, “Believe me, lady, if I did, I wouldn’t waste my time hanging around here waiting for the MPs to pick me up.”

Adele was still smarting from the fact that he hadn’t rushed to hand over the money for her medical treatment and so her next comment was a little sharper than it could have been. “It doesn’t matter how hard up you are,” she muttered, “I struggle to think of any reason to dress like a hobo.”

Face started at the harshness of her words but then let them just roll right off him. He didn’t care what she thought, he reminded himself. Hannibal had shoved him against the wall and slid his hands down the back of his shorts as he’d plundered his mouth when Face had come out of the bathroom ready to go out; he’d obviously approved of Face’s appearance, so what the fuck did it matter what Adele thought? And if he was honest with himself, he’d deliberately chosen his clothes to try his hardest to piss her off, so mission accomplished. He forced himself to offer up a flat grin and ignore the jabbing pain in his chest.

She shook her head at his supposed levity, “You are a good looking boy, I don’t see why you can’t make more of an effort. You have a girlfriend?”

Biting back the impulse to tell her to mind her own fucking business, Face just took a huge swig of beer and shook his head. Adele sighed theatrically, “I thought not. I’m not surprised though, what girl wants to go out with a scruffian? That rather thin waitress, I’ve seen the way she’s been looking at you, I’m sure she would go out with you if you just smartened yourself up a little, wore one of those lovely suits you had on before.”

Face was surprised that she’d even noticed what he’d been wearing on the other nights he’d seen her and was totally unprepared for the rush of warmth it spread, he savagely pushed it down. “I’m sure she’d go out with me whatever I’m wearing, dating is just a bit tricky for me at the moment.”

“Really?” Adele’s delicate forehead creased into a frown, “Why is that?”

Face looked at her for moment, “Wanted fugitive?” he prompted, wondering if she was winding him up.

“Oh, that!” Adele waved her hand dismissively, “I’m sure no one cares about that anymore, Danny! You’re old news! These terrorists that keep blowing up our schools, now they are the ones people are interested in. Maybe if you and your little band of fugitives caught yourself some terrorists, then that might make people think twice about sending you to jail!”

Face turned away in disgust and squinted back out to sea, trying really hard to remember an incident when terrorists had blown up a school on US soil and wondering what version of the news she watched, but Adele carried on regardless.

“It would be lovely if you would ask a nice girl out for dinner,” she told him, her voice an annoying little simper that he hadn’t heard before, “then we could double date.”

That got Face’s attention again, he turned back and squinted at her, “Double date?” he asked, perplexed, “Who with?”

Adele smiled coyly at him, “John,” she answered in a girlish whisper.

For just a second Face stared at her, trying to process what on earth she meant by John. It was almost as if... no – she couldn’t possibly mean... he raised his eyebrows at her and when she smiled sweetly back, he knew his incredible suspicions were confirmed. He burst out laughing, turning Adele’s smile into a deep frown. “What?” she spat at him downing the rest of her martini, “Why is that so damn funny?”

“Hannibal?” Face laughed, “You want me to double date with you and Hannibal?”

Adele pursed her lips at him, “I do wish you wouldn’t use those ridiculous names for each other, John is such a noble sounding name, Hannibal is plebeian.”

“Hannibal was a Carthaginian military commander and tactician, often regarded as the greatest military strategist ever. He wasn’t a plebe, he wasn’t even Roman, he hated the Romans.”

Shrugging, Adele waved Talia back over, “Whatever you say dear. John just sounds so much nicer, and why do you think it amusing that we would go out to dinner together?”

Now it was Face’s turn to frown, “He’s asked you?”

“No, not yet. Another martini, dear and this time make sure it’s cold, you want one, Danny darling?” Face cringed at the sickly sweet endearment she dropped on him in front of a scowling Talia and felt his hackles rise in response.

“No, thank you, mother,” he replied before turning his attention to the waitress, “Another, bud please Talia?” he winked and Talia beamed at him turning to sashay suggestively across the beach, knowing damn well he was watching her. He turned back to Adele and raised an eyebrow at her furious stare, “What?” he asked innocently.

“Don’t call me ‘mother’ in front of other people,” Adele hissed at him, “it makes me feel old!”

Face just laughed and bit down on the response he felt bubbling up in his throat. “But you think he will ask you though? Hannibal, I mean.”

Adele sat back in her seat, a tiny self satisfied smile creeping across her face to replace the scowl, “Of course he will, who could ever resist me?” she preened.

Face studied her very carefully for a moment, wondering at the hint of doubt he thought he saw in her eyes, before they were disturbed by Talia, looking much more cheerful now the relationship between her two customers had been spelt out for her, bringing their drinks over. “Who indeed?” he asked instead, before picking up his fresh, cold beer.

_____________________________

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, when he got them, 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 done 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 Charing.

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 Murdock used regularly and for all sorts of reasons. He had a blog for one, 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.

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.

Chapter Text

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 looking down at the ground, but his entire posture screamed 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 peck 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 away 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 pocket, 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...

________________________

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...

______________________________

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 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... none 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 reversed 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 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 the exact 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 NY 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.

_______________________

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 settling 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?”

____________________

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...”

_____________________________

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.

___________________________________

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?

_______________________

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 134th 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.

_________________________________

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.

_______________________________

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 134th 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.

[WARNING - Description of child sex abuse, not completely graphic, but you will know what is going on. Skip down to line of -------------- if you want to avoid]

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.

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.
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[Explanation - Adele discovered her latest boyfriend, Bryce, abusing Danny - but allowed him to continue in exchange for all the material items Bryce could get for her. She does not comfort Danny afterwards and it ruins her relationship with her son for ever more. She eventually gets rid of Bryce. ]

And 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.

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.

_______________________________

Within six minutes of arriving at the address Adele had given them, Hannibal and BA had ascertained that there was no Pike, no Adele, and more importantly, no Face. BA, however, had found something of interest and had dragged him out from behind the bins where he’d discovered him and over to Hannibal who was stood staring at all the blood on the concrete floor of the warehouse.

“Bossman,” he said as he approached and Hannibal looked up, his expression going from distraught to professional soldier in a second.

He appraised BA’s captive, a rather portly man, red faced and sweating even in the gloom of the warehouse. He was wearing a cheap looking beige suit that Hannibal knew would have Face cringing in a second and he looked down-right terrified. Hannibal knew immediately that this quivering pile of jelly was not Silas Pike. “Who have we got here then, BA?” he asked gruffly, pulling his pistol out from its holster and obviously flicking the safety off. “Someone who’s gonna pay for all this blood on the floor?”

BA shoved the unfortunate man to his knees right next to the congealing, sticky mess and could tell from the way he cringed away from it that he’d had absolutely nothing to do with how it had got there. He glanced up at Hannibal and they shared a look which told him that the colonel completely agreed with him.

“No, no, colonel Smith, sir,” the man spluttered, “I’m here looking for Adele! I don’t know where she is, or where Silas has got to,” he saw the tense set to Hannibal’s face and immediately guessed why he was here. “I haven’t seen Danny either!”

“Face!” BA barked and nudged the prisoner with his toe just hard enough that he fell on the floor wiping his hand through the blood at the same time.

“Sorry! Face, yeah, Face... Sorry!”

Hannibal sighed, this was not helping. “Name?” he barked out.

“Eddie, Eddie Charing.”

“And you are?”

“A friend. Of Adele’s. Adele’s friend. Yeah...”

BA loomed over him, “Yeah? Well that woman is poison man, you hear me? Poison. An’ any friend of hers aint a friend of mine...” He smacked a meaty fist into his palm to make his point.

“Why are you here?” Hannibal asked, putting his gun away.

“I was looking for Adele,” Eddie explained, his words coming out in an anxious rush, “she was cross with Silas and I just knew she would go and do something stupid without me. I got to the hotel as quick as I could but she had already gone, so I came here and got here just before you but they weren’t here either and there was all this blood! And I don’t know whose it is, and I didn’t realise Silas had Danny, Face!, I didn’t know he’d made his move yet and-”

“But you did know he was after Face, though?” BA leaned in menacingly.

“No! Yes... but, well I guessed, I didn’t know, but-”

“Where are they now?” Hannibal interrupted, starting to realise that this interview was going nowhere very fast.

“I don’t know,” Eddie admitted, wiping Face’s blood off his hand with his already damp handkerchief, “I haven’t had chance to check the tracker again yet.”

Hannibal and BA looked at each other and Hannibal felt his heart kick up a notch. “Tracker?” he said sharply. “Where’s the receiver?”

“In the boot of my car,” Eddie offered at once.

BA reached forward and had hauled Eddie back to his feet even before Hannibal started speaking. “Eddie Charing,” he said holding out his hand. “Hannibal Smith, good to meet you,” they shook, briefly and then Hannibal was on the move, his hand firm on Eddie’s shoulder, guiding him forward. “Now, go and show me where my boy is.”

____________________________

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.

____________________________________

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 then 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... Pike?” 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.

____________________________

BA drove as fast as he dared without wanting to risk being spotted by the police. He knew that, had Silas decided to go after Murdock, then he had a head start on BA, but, BA had the advantage of knowing where he was going; he just hoped that would be enough.

Parking at the hospital was difficult, it always was, and just as BA jogged back towards the main building, an ambulance screamed in past him and he stopped to let it go, wondering if Adele was inside it. He didn’t like the woman one little bit, they way she’d lied to Face and Hannibal and even to himself, trying to use him to manipulate Face, well, that was enough to encourage a healthy dislike, but what she’d done to Murdock, trying to send him back to that dark place he’d spent so long trying to haul himself out of... The mere thought of that made the anger crawl under BA’s skin like a million deadly ants, just itching to bite someone.

Even though he hated her so much, he couldn’t wish her dead, but with a bullet to the skull, which is what he was assuming had happened, well – it didn’t look too good for her at all. And who would hurt the most if she died? Face, of course, he’d turn all that Catholic guilt back in on himself, and really, that was the last thing he needed right now, after all, he’d not looked that good himself back there.

BA stepped into the lift and pressed the button for Murdock’s floor, shaking his head sadly, thinking how wrong it was that he was here really hoping that Adele survived.

He saw no sign of Silas on the way over and began to relax minutely as he approached the nurse’s station. As long as Murdock was awake now, he could sign his own discharge and they could be out in ten minutes. If he was still unconscious, BA would have to improvise, he was no good at pulling a scam like Face would have done to get him out, his preferred method would have to be something a little closer to kidnap he knew. But of course Murdock wouldn’t see it like that, Murdock would know it was the best thing for him.

Smiling his most disarming smile at the nurse on duty behind the desk, BA leant in and tried to make his bulk seem less intimidating. “Hi, there,” he greeted her, “I’m here to see James Taylor. Can I go straight in?”

Blushing a little, the nurse answered him, “Oh, I’m sorry, there’s a doctor in there with him now, he won’t be long though. Are you okay to take a seat?”

“Sure,” BA answered, smiling pleasantly and sitting himself where he could see the closed door of Murdock’s room and would know the second that the doctor had finished. Then he glanced at his watch and waited.

_______________________________

Hannibal rolled the doors of their emergency base shut behind the van and quickly jogged around to the side to reach Face. They had two of these units set up, one at either end of the city. They were used partly as storage facilities, partly as emergency bolt holes, and as such were set up with basic cooking equipment, tins of food, dried milk, four cots, spare clothes, weapons, a stash of money, stored fuel, more passports, various disguises they’d collected over the years, and most importantly, medical equipment.

He narrowed his narrowed his eyes at the blood soaked bandage on Face’s arm and the spreading patch on the carpet of the van, knowing that BA would be silently appalled at the mess, and then, after a quick vitals check, hauled Face out into his arms once more and carried him over to one of the cots. They had bags of their own blood stored here, supplies refreshed monthly, fortunately sharing two blood types between them, and oxygen and he knew that that had to be his first move, bump up the oxygen in the kid’s blood before he started topping him up with the red stuff. Adele hadn’t seemed too bad when they’d arrived, but then Face had been on the floor, and although he knew that carbon monoxide was slightly lighter than air, exhaust fumes in general were heavier, he’d also been a lot closer to the exhaust than Adele, and of course was in a weaker state...

As Hannibal lowered his precious cargo down onto the cot and ran to get the oxygen, he tried not to think of Face’s hours with Silas that had put him into the state he was. The most obvious injury, apart from the bullet wound to his arm, were the lash marks, two different thicknesses, and all over his upper body. Hannibal wasn’t a huge fan of torturing the enemy at all, but by the gods, if he got his hands on Silas Pike anytime soon then it would be very interesting to see just how much he liked having his skin flayed like that.

It took Hannibal only a minute to get the oxygen up and running, and the mask fitted snugly over Face’s nose and mouth, and then he started preparing the blood transfusion, thanking his sense of paranoia that they had set this place up and had all practised so hard what they would need to do to look after each other in an emergency.

____________________________

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 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.

_____________________________________

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.
_________________________________

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.

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 as 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 would 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.
__________________________

As the morning light slowly filtered through the gaps in the blinds, painting the walls a faint orange, Face was still sitting where Hannibal had left him, his expression blank, his mind reeling.

His first reaction to Hannibal walking out on him like that had been to leave. His bag was already packed, his worldly possessions combined into one medium sized holdall and if that was what the boss thought of him now, then maybe he would be doing everyone a favour if he just disappeared.

But then, even before he’d managed to struggle to his feet and get his stuff, it had struck him; he’d had a sudden, searing image of Hannibal, gun raised to his temple, pulling the trigger and the force of the vision had almost crushed him, and he realised then what he had done, how violently he had betrayed the man who loved him.

It was more than that, though, much more. And as he sat through the small hours of the morning and the black of the night slowly, slowly receded, he thought back to his early days with Hannibal and the vow he had silently made as a soldier, long before they had been anywhere near the point of making vows as lovers.

Hannibal had been the first person to look twice at the angry young lieutenant who could run his mouth as fast as his body; the first person to ask ‘why?’ instead of just reaming him out, and that was all it had taken for Face’s life to turn around. He found that with someone to trust him and believe in him and value him he could start to be a better person, a more level person, and he vowed that he would repay that trust by always being exactly what Hannibal wanted him to be, always doing whatever it was that needed doing.

And he had. For almost twenty years he had done whatever was needed perfectly and often without Hannibal even having to say anything. Maybe the methods he chose weren’t always what the boss had had in mind and maybe the end results were a little different too, but Face had instinctively known the big picture, known what was expected of him and he had moved heaven and earth to unsure that that was what he had delivered for his colonel.

Until yesterday. And that was the thing that had brought him up short and shocked him back into real life. It didn’t matter whether Silas had shot Hannibal or not, it didn’t matter whether Face had checked out his facts properly or not. All that mattered was what Hannibal had expected of his XO in that situation, and in the quiet calm of the night, those expectations were crystal clear to Face now.

He was right to kill Pike the way he did; as unpleasant as he usually found taking a life, as unsavoury as the after taste of his over enthusiastic shooting might be, Pike was a threat to his team and would not have stopped in his crazy vendetta until he was dead. Face was right to kill him.

And after that his role was clean up. He should have sanitised the situation, made sure nothing existed to link either him or the team to the whole debacle. And if the worst had happened, if his CO, his life, his love had been killed, then he should have stepped up to the mark and taken control. Someone needed to move the bodies, someone needed to meet up with BA and Murdock and tell them what had happened, someone needed to be there for Murdock, be strong for BA, someone needed to organise a burial, someone needed to command the unit until they all decided what they were going to do with themselves. And that someone should have been him.

Regardless of what he owed Hannibal as a lover, the vow to hand over his heart and soul for all eternity had come after the vow to be the very best soldier, and later XO, that he possibly could be. He’d said he would never let Hannibal down, never, and now he had - and why? Because he’d been out-thought? Out-manoeuvred? Out fought? Out soldiered? No. Because he’d been damn selfish. Shame washed over him in a hot wave.

’I can’t trust you Face, I just can’t.’ Those words were haunting him now, circling round and round in his brain like a whole kettle of vultures and he realised what that meant to him, losing Hannibal’s trust like that. He wouldn’t be XO anymore, couldn’t be, how could you have an XO you didn’t trust? So where did that leave the team? How could they take on missions? How could they survive without that income? He couldn’t even begin to consider the knock on effects into his personal life, how much Hannibal would be able to stand by him and how much he wouldn’t.

And of course the ripples didn’t stop at Hannibal either, they just kept on spreading, absorbing everyone and everything they came into contact with. BA for example; he saw himself as chief protector of the team, and he would gladly stand between any one of them and a threat. The problem was, how was he supposed to do that if he thought that the biggest threat to Face came from his own hand rather than the hand of an adversary?

And then there was Murdock, and Face let his head droop as yet another tsunami of shame hit him. Murdock dealt with so much, coped with all the times his own mind back-fired on him and in all of those times, he’d never, ever been tempted to just jack it all in and top himself. Face knew that for a fact as it had come out in one of their all night whisky induced bonding sessions, where Hannibal and BA would eventually pass out and Murdock and Face would talk until dawn, wrapped up in a shared blanket marvelling at how they seemed to be two halves of the same brownie. Murdock’s joy at life, his wonder at waking up every morning and just being alive was far too strong for that.

He rubbed at his eyes, gritty with lack of sleep, and wondered what Murdock would think of him, giving up like that in a moment of despair. Refusing to tough it out, refusing to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe he didn’t need Hannibal to be able to live, and that maybe there were others out there who needed him and were relying on him to help them get by.

Face had fought all his life. He’d fought to stay sane and to stop the world from beating him down when many others would have given in from the first moment. He’d fought to stay in the army when the powers that be decided he was too risky, too unstable. He’d fought to stay by Hannibal’s side and then later with his team when others had tried to split them up, and he’d fought to be the very best person he could be for his family, to be everything they needed and stop the darkness inside him from rearing up and claiming his soul.

And then, for two short minutes, he’d given up; given up the fight, given up striving to be the good man that Hannibal wanted him to be and let himself slide down into desolation and despair. He hadn’t seen what was needed from him, in fact he hadn’t seen anything beyond his own determination that he simply wasn’t good enough to be able to survive without Hannibal in his life. He’d been a coward, he’d taken the route of least resistance and now it looked as if that moment of weakness was going to cost him everything he held dear.

So what were his options now? To sit here and mope and feel desperately sorry for himself and wait until someone came to check on him and take his weapons and shoelaces off him? Or was he going to man up and try to fix some of his mess before it destroyed them all?

There wasn’t a decision to make, he hauled himself to his feet, took a second to steady his aching body and then quietly let himself out of his room looking for where Hannibal had taken himself off to.

He didn’t have to look far. As soon as he was on the landing and glanced out of the circular window letting daylight into the stairwell he saw him, sitting outside, the early morning light giving his hair and his jumper an other-wordly glow. The house hugged the sides of a small fishing lake, the decking at the rear stretched out right over the water so you didn’t even have to leave the property to catch your dinner. Hannibal was on his butt in the sand on the tiny beach that crept gently down to the lake’s edge, cigar in hand and face raised to the mountain which climbed up out of the water on the far side. The whole scene, the sun rise, the lake, the mountains, Hannibal... it was all so beautiful and a very sharp reminder to Face about all he could have lost.

He limped outside in his sleep shorts and his bare feet and immediately felt gooseflesh rise all over his body in the cool of the early morning. He steadfastly ignored it though, the chill in his heart over the things he’d done and the things Hannibal had said far outweighed any chill in the air. He padded straight over to the still figure in the sand and dropped down so they were sat side by side, adjusting himself until he could sit comfortably without straining his painful ankle.

Hannibal didn't greet him, didn’t move at all and Face suddenly found himself lost for words, floundering at the best way to tell the man he loved how sorry he was that he tried to run out on him here. Permanently. But in the end, as he scrambled in a very un-Face-like way to open the conversation, it was Hannibal that spoke first. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly and Face looked around at him in shock.

He was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, still sporting various cuts and bruises from his fight with Pike. His jaw was covered in stubble and his eyes were heavy and bloodshot with dark shadows underneath, he looked dreadful and Face felt his heart crack just a little at the sight.

Without pause he leant in, his arm creeping around Hannibal’s waist, his other hand resting gently on his taut stomach and felt himself almost melt with relief when Hannibal raised his arm and allowed Face to nestle up against the soft wool of the caramel sweater, complete with smears of blood all down the front.

“I’m sorry too,” Face whispered, unwilling to risk his voice at such an emotional moment, “for all the ways I let you down.”

Hannibal tugged him in more firmly at those words and even pressed a kiss to the top of his head; filling Face with a hope that maybe there was a way out of this for them.

“No, kid, you have nothing to apologise for here, this is me, this was my call and I’m the one who dropped the ball.” Face frowned, confused but Hannibal took a long draw of his cigar, cleared his throat awkwardly and continued with his obviously pre-planned words. “I should have guessed how all this was affecting you; the cumulative effects of everything that’s happened recently and the things you can remember from when you were little.” Face flushed and looked down at the sand, wondering, not for the first time if Hannibal had a fast track right into his head. “I could see you had things bothering you, you’ve been saying different things in your sleep,” Face flushed even deeper, “looking edgier every time you came back from seeing her... But we never seemed to find the time to go over it, did we?”

Face didn’t say a word; he just stared at the sand between his legs and wondered where this was going.

“Anyway,” Hannibal cleared his throat again, “I hadn’t realised how badly it was affecting you and that was very remiss of me. I’ve had a little chat with Murdock and he’s made a few suggestions,” he cleared his throat yet again, oozing awkwardness into the morning air, “and I’ve managed to get the number of a really good therapist in Dallas. Someone who’s had a lot of success with people who have... who... who are finding things really tough,” and now Hannibal was almost as flushed as Face.

“Hannibal...” Face murmured, his eyes on the sand.

“So I thought maybe we could head out that way and see if she’ll see us, hey?” Face could tell from the difference in his voice that Hannibal had turned towards him and he closed his eyes in shame. “We could take a few months off, get some rest, just take the time to chill and you could work out some of these things that are making you... feel down...” he finished lamely.

“Hannibal,” Face repeated through gritted teeth, “I don’t need to see a shrink!”

“Temp,” there was pain in that voice, raw, anguished pain and Face couldn’t stop himself from looking up, hating to hear that tone in the man he loved. “I can’t lose you, kid.” Hannibal ground out. “And I can’t let you do that to yourself either, you are too special, too precious...” Face swallowed hard. “It will be fine, we can beat this,” Hannibal’s arm tightened on him, reawakening the pain from the bullet track in his bicep, but Face ignored it. “You and me, kid, we’ve done worse than this before, yeah? This, these, feelings, you’ve been having – we can whup their asses too, right?”

Face swallowed around the golf ball that had apparently lodged itself in his throat and wondered just who Hannibal was so desperately trying to convince here that they could kick Face’s obviously suicidal depression. He took a deep breath. “Boss,” he said, slowly and carefully, “you don’t have to worry about me-”

“Face!” Hannibal interrupted, shock clear in his tone. “You think I don’t care how you are feeling? I know I got a bit heated up there last night, but it’s not because I don’t care! I care so much it scares the fucking crap outta me...!”

Leaning in, Face swallowed his shame at the way this conversation was going and made sure he held Hannibal’s eyes with his own, made sure that the boss could see the truth in there, the absence of a con, the absolute and total honesty in Face’s words and his soul. “John,” he said slowly and carefully. “You don’t have to worry about me ‘cause I’m not going to... do anything stupid,” he paused, wanting to make sure his words had got through.

“Temp, honey,” Hannibal’s hand was shaking as he reached to touch Face’s cheek. “You don’t have to hide from me. I was there, remember? I saw what happened... I know I said some pretty harsh things earlier on, but this will be okay for us, you hear me? We can get through this. It will be fine.”

Face bit down on his frustration and tried again. “I don’t want to die, John,” he said quietly, his voice starting to break over his words. “I want to be with you. Always. It was just... I thought you were dead...” And that was it, as much as he could take finally reached and he pitched forward grabbing on to Hannibal so hard it must have hurt, his words coming out in a stream of pain that he had no way of stopping. “I thought I couldn’t go on without you, but I realise I was wrong now, I realise that if you... if, that happens someday then you’ll need me to go on and be strong for the others and that’s what I’ll do. Hannibal, you don’t have to worry about me, you can still trust me, you don’t have to leave me, I can do this, I can be whatever you want me to be. Haven’t I always done my job? Haven’t I always delivered the goods for you? Haven’t we always been a good team?”

“Oh, the best, baby, the very best!” Hannibal rushed to reassure him. “And I’m not leaving you, I’d never leave you, I thought you knew that, this will be fine, it will, I swear to you, we’ll get all of this all worked out.” He let Face cling to him, wrapping his own arms around his shaking back and felt hot, desperate tears leak from his eyes, wondering how he would feel if Face had died, how much he would feel like getting up and carrying on...

He was appalled to see his boy like this, so strung out and overwhelmed. Appalled at the words that had come tumbling out, that Face had felt he’d had to be something specific for Hannibal all these years, that being himself wasn’t enough.

But that was a topic of conversation to file away for another day and Hannibal fully intended not leaving this haven in the mountains until he’d covered a number of topics with Face; the suicide attempt obviously one, Adele, his father, his recently recovered childhood memories, and now this, the others. He couldn’t believe he’d let things get this bad, that he’d let Face hide this much from him, maybe if he’d known what was really going on in the kid’s head that stunt in the alley wouldn’t have been such a shock to him, maybe he could have even guarded against it, just like he needed to guard against it now.

Face was still shaking and clinging, but he wasn’t crying and that worried Hannibal, he knew they weren’t there yet, that Face was still holding on to too much pain inside him and it needed an outlet. Despite their differences over the last twelve hours, Hannibal knew his boy well, knew exactly what he needed to let go, and so as Face clung to him, his fingers vises on his arms, Hannibal twisted his own head so he was leaning down and slowly, gently, so, so, lovingly, he pressed the most cautious of kisses onto his boy’s lips.

The response was overwhelming. Face reared up in an instant, moving his hands to the back of Hannibal’s head to hold him in place and kissing back with a force borne of desperation. For a second, Hannibal struggled simply to contain him, but finally he managed to assert control, to take the lead, control the strength and pace and gently guide Face into something more careful, more fulfilling for both of them and he realised that that was a fairly accurate metaphor for their entire existence together.

Face had always been brave and strong, both mentally and physically, but he’d also been vulnerable. He would charge into everything he did with a hundred and ten percent effort and enthusiasm, he would roll with the blows, adapt as he went along, but he could never sustain that pace forever. Running like that, firing on all cylinders, burned him out pretty quick and when he was burning out, he was at the mercy of his emotions, his quick temper, his impulsivity, his sharp tongue all surged to the fore and got him into trouble. And that’s where Hannibal had come in. He was able to take all that enthusiasm and energy and channel it more appropriately, stop the burn out before it even started and let Face moderate his own behaviour. It had worked, it had worked beautifully for years and Face played the ying to his yang by keeping Hannibal grounded in return, not letting him get too swallowed up in the jazz and making sure that there was enough sense in his crazy-insane plans that they could actually come together effectively.

They were a team, like Hannibal had told him, the best team there was. But of course, as Hannibal was just starting to realise, even the most wonderful of arrangements had a downside and that happened when Hannibal didn’t notice the warning signs that Face was still burning out, or if he couldn’t get in to prevent that final shove, the shove that had Face rapidly spinning out of control. Thinking Pike had killed him in that alley, that had been it, the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back; Hannibal had managed to haul him back for the short term, but the events of last night, their row, Hannibal storming out the way he had, had all just conspired to push him right back out on the edge again.

As they kissed, Face suddenly yanked Hannibal’s sweater up and away and Hannibal shivered with the first wash of the morning air on his torso, breaking their connection for the very briefest of seconds before reaching down to meet Face’s searching mouth with his own. He realised that he’d known all of this all along, known how Face could react if pushed hard enough. Did he really think the kid was suicidal? Was going to slit his wrists the second he was left alone? No, he didn’t. If he’d really feared that then he never would have left him alone all night the way he had. The kid had made a primitive knee jerk reaction in that alley, a response to fear and desperation from a man who had never developed more appropriate coping strategies, and whose fault was that?

Hannibal realised that he had contributed to this as much as he had contributed to everything that Face had done and lived and learned since he sixteen years old – still a baby. But it was like BA was always trying to tell him, Face wasn’t that child anymore, and it was long past the time where Hannibal should have stopped propping him up emotionally and let him stand on his own two feet a bit more. He knew that’s what needed to happen now if Face was ever going to achieve any kind of emotional stability in his life...

All rational thought, however, was firmly shoved to the back of his mind the second that Face found the bulge in the front of his trousers and started insistently rubbing at it with his hand. Hannibal moaned as the arousal in his gut started to twist and rise, and in seconds they were both scrabbling to undo the button on his cords and shove them down over his tense thighs, pushing his briefs down at the same time and he hissed as he felt the cool sand on his bare skin.

Face’s shorts were the next to go, and within a minute they were both naked, the morning sun warming them and turning their skin a pearlescent gold, and in all this time since Hannibal’s jumper had come off, they had never broken their kiss, not once. But now, with his lungs burning and his pulse thumping in his ears, Hannibal lifted off and Face fell back into the sand beneath him, his eyes closed and his chest heaving for breath as he lifted a knee to rest against Hannibal’s side, a hand right on his tattoo, keeping up that contact.

For a second Hannibal just stared at him, letting his eyes run up and down his strong lean body as it lay in the sand beneath him. The smooth planes of muscle, still baring the marks of Silas’ capture, the dusky nipples, taut in the cool air, his beautiful cock, flushed dark red where it lay against the tan of his stomach, smearing it with pre-come that glistened in the sunlight. His eyes were closed, purple smudges underneath them that betrayed his state of exhaustion and suddenly Hannibal felt a fear unlike anything he had ever known that they would lose this thing they had together and he vowed to himself that he would never let that happen.

He wanted to take his time on the body beneath him, spend hours covering every inch of that glorious skin with his mouth and his fingers and his love, but he knew he couldn’t do that, not this time. Looking back up into the kid’s expression, he saw the desperation there as Face opened his eyes and returned his stare. He saw the way that his breath was starting to hitch more rather than settle down, he saw the needy little twitches in his fingers, and how his eyes were swimming in the tears that needed to flow.

Hannibal knew exactly what was needed from him here, and he wasted no more time in fulfilling that need. His head dropped and found Face’s lips once more, plunging straight in with his tongue, opening the kid up so he could fill him with his love. He transferred all his weight onto his left arm, dropping to his elbow and feeling Face’s fingers digging hard into the flesh of his bicep. Then he let his right hand drift down as his hips dipped to rest gently on Face’s abdomen and he wrapped both their cocks up together in one large palm.

Face keened into his mouth and responded by thrusting his pelvis up hard into Hannibal, his fingers tightening and the little hitches Hannibal could feel in his breathing telling the older man that the tears were here at last. Hannibal felt his own return in response, hot and angry behind his closed lids as he moved himself, moved Face, kissed him, loved him and tried to pull him through this.

It was desperate, frantic, frenzied, and Hannibal knew he would have bruises where Face’s fingers were clutching almost convulsively at him and he was trying in return to steady his own hips, the tugging of his hand, keep them gentle, but it was a losing battle. Face started thrusting up harder into him, the sobs audible now even through the desperate need in their kiss and Hannibal reached with the fingers half buried in the sand to grab at any part of his boy that he could reach, determined to be everything he could for Face now and forever. He got a handful of hair and held on tight, thrusting and tugging and kissing, kissing so hard, desperate now in his desire to drive all this pain and insecurity out of the man he loved once and for all.

Face’s hands had moved to his back and were clutching feverishly at the muscle he found there as he tried in turn to bury himself in everything that was Hannibal, knowing damn well that what they were doing here wouldn’t solve anything for him, but that it was all he needed right now, and god he needed it so much. He pulled Hannibal down even harder, trapping their cocks together and Hannibal dragged his hand out, using it to hold Face’s head, moulding them even closer, mashing their chests together, pushing Face back into the sand, as lost in all this as Face was now.

And then Face started shuddering beneath him, shaking apart with each thrust of Hannibal’s heat onto his own and Hannibal tried to pull back, tried to give him the space and the air to come, but Face held him still, kept their mouths fused even though neither of them had the motor control to actually kiss as their climaxes reared up to absorb them.

Face went first as Hannibal felt his own twisting, roiling heat filling his cock, and then there was that glorious wet warmth against his stomach, making their cocks slide frenetically against each other as Face’s emptied, spurting hard in time with the sobs that Hannibal could feel in his mouth. Then Hannibal fell, jamming himself down hard, sealing his mouth over Face’s to catch those broken little sounds as he spilled over and over again, mixing his seed with his lover’s wanting that act alone to be enough to bind them together forever.

They shuddered through their mutual release and as soon as Hannibal came back to himself and realised that their mouths were still melded together, he started kissing again, slowly this time, deeply, passionately, licking through his boy’s mouth, tasting tears on his lips and trying to kiss around the sobs that were still there, take them away along with all the pain they represented.

He tipped onto his hip in the sand, pulling Face with him, keeping them meshed together and slowly used his mouth to bring his boy down from the edge, gently lessening the intensity of his caress, pulling back slightly until he was running kisses along a stubbled jaw, and Face’s sobs were nothing more than jerky, stuttered breathing.

He kept on going, gently, lovingly kissing cheeks, eye lids, forehead, nose until Face finally opened his lids and looked across at him from red rimmed, bloodshot eyes. In silence they regarded each other. Face looked exhausted, mentally, emotionally and physically but somehow he looked better, as if something evil and toxic had been gouged out of him, painful but necessary, leaving him finally able to rest and heal.

As if he could almost read Hannibal’s thoughts, Face’s eyes grew heavy and he let them slide shut, almost at once going limp in his lover’s arms. Hannibal screwed his own stinging eyes closed once more and gathered his poor exhausted boy up into his arms, hoping he would sleep for hours, hoping that they would both be strong enough to fix this mess when he woke up.

_____________________________________________

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.