The second story in the"Eventually Hell"-quartett. It is a lot shorter than I remembered, just 4 chapters, but here it is, and I rather like it. I hope you do too. (And I feel it is an important link between the first and the third story. Without this, the jump would be too big.)

Hannibal had got used to Face being back. Although it became more and more apparent that not all of Face had come back.

At first, after being so miraculously reunited, Hannibal had rejoiced over the simple fact that Face was still alive, and everything had been fantastic. Then he had rejoiced that Face was recuperating, getting his strength and health back, and everything had been good.

And there was hardly a happier day than the day Face had finally been released from hospital.

He could have gone back home, but like Murdock, he had opted to stay. And, like with Murdock, Hannibal started to wonder whether that was a good idea. Although Murdock was doing a lot better since Face had returned. So maybe...

But no. Hannibal knew that that was not the case. Something was wrong with Face, and now that he saw him every day again, not just for a couple of hours every other week or so, it was undeniable. There was no freaking out, no emotional breakdown, no testiness. He didn't even seem to have nightmares.

Hannibal had put Murdock and Face into one room in their new quarters, so they could have an eye on each other, and report back any problems. But so far, nothing, not from the one and not from the other.

Maybe that meant that there really was nothing. Or maybe they were both so caught up in their own problems that they couldn't see it in the other. And Hannibal wondered what was wrong with himself that he could not tell which one it was.

But no. No, he knew which one it was. He knew that neither of the two was alright. Murdock was quaint and weird. Face was charming, good-humoured and easy-going.

And while Hannibal fully believed and comprehended Murdock's behaviour, he didn't believe Face's.

Because there were the times, when Face thought that nobody was looking, that the facade slipped. It all fell away, leaving bitter lines carved into his young features, and a blankness in his eyes.

He had tried to talk with Face about it once, had given him the opportunity to start dealing with things, but it had not gone well.

"Face?" Hannibal spoke softly, didn't want to startle him.

Face closed his eyes for a second, turned his head away for another second, and when he looked up at Hannibal, the bitter lines and empty eyes were gone, hidden behind the mask of languid contentment. "Hey, Colonel. Something you need?"

"No. All stocked up at the moment."

"Good." Face nodded. "Then..." He looked at Hannibal with the hint of a conspiratorial grin. "What do you want?"

That was it, the make-or-break-moment. "I want to be here for you." Like before he spoke softly, evenly. He must not spook Face off. He had never been good with serious talk, and Charlie's treatment surely had not made it better. But he could not just sit by and do nothing either. He had to...

"That's very kind of you, Colonel. I'll let you know when I actually need you," Face interrupted Hannibal's thoughts in a voice, equally soft and even. He looked as if he really meant it.

And almost, almost, Hannibal was convinced, thought that maybe he had only imagined the bitter lines and blank eyes. Almost. "I think you need me right now."

"Well, you think wrong." A slight pause. "I don't need anyone."

Jesus, what a grand claim, so very Face - and bound to be wrong. "Everybody needs somebody else, Face. – That's a human principle."

Face stared at Hannibal for a moment before he broke into laughter.

It irritated Hannibal, but he understood that it was merely a defence-technique. As long as Face laughed, he couldn't speak. Ergo he did not have to speak. Ergo he had time to think of an answer. Or just laugh, till he didn't have to answer anymore. The irritation remained, though.

"A human principle? Man, where did you pull that one from?"

"Never mind the words, it's the idea that counts, and that is true. You tell me you never needed anyone? Really?" Hannibal was angry with himself for throwing Face that line. Of course Face jumped at it happily, and now used it against him. He should have known better than to argue with a silver-tongued con-man.

"Sure I did, when I was a kid. All kids do. But now I'm grown up." Face was getting irritated, too.

Good. Hannibal saw it with satisfaction. He had known that Face would not be able to keep up the happy act for long. Unfortunately Face was irritated, but not giving up. "You've hardly hit your twenties."

"I am twenty!" Face sounded childishly proud to have left the teenage-years behind.

Hannibal smiled sadly. Twenty, my god, how young. "Face, why's it so hard for you to admit you need something?"

"It ain't hard, I just don't need anything, thank you very much." Face glared at Hannibal sharply before he looked away.

"Then explain to me: Why do I never hear you say: 'I need' or 'can you help'? You never say that."

"I do," Face insisted.

"On superficial matters, yeah. But for yourself, for your personal well-being? I never hear you say any of that. Never."

Face jumped to his feet. "Ah, leave me alone with that crap!"

"Don't run away!" Hannibal shouted and regretted it straight away. Shouting had never worked with Face.

Face stood still, his back to Hannibal. "That an order?" he asked sourly as he slowly turned around.

"If a request doesn't keep you..."

"Colonel." Face saluted.

"Face!" Now Hannibal jumped up too. He couldn't help it, he was shouting again. "Tell me what's happening here! Tell me how I can help you - and don't deny that you need help! I know my men; even better I know my friends. And you are my friend. So tell me." Hannibal stared at Face, who stood it. A minute or so passed in silence, then Face, still holding his look decided to say something.

"Hannibal, eventually hell, too, is but accommodation."

After that Face had dropped his eyes and walked away, and Hannibal had never tried again. Face was so stubborn. A decision once made was nearly impossible to get out of his head again.

So he had to bide his time. Sooner or later Face's mask would crack and break. The insides would spill out, Hannibal would pick up the pieces and put them back together. But until then, there was nothing he could do but wait. It drove him mad.

And what had he meant with that last comment anyway? Hannibal was sure that it was to do with the death-camp, but to call that accommodation...

"Colonel?"

Hannibal jerked his head up. The subject of his dark thouhts stood in front of him, slick and smooth as ever. "Lieutenant, 's there a problem?"

"No problem, just playing cards and looking for another player. Care to join in?"

Hannibal smiled despite himself. It was so easy to fall for the masquerade, even when you knew. "Only if you promise not to cheat me out of my last shirt."

"Deal." Face smiled too. "Although, you could always just request a new one." He ran his fingers through his hair, brushed some dust from his shirt.

"In that case, Lieutenant, lead the way."

No five minutes later, they were seated around a makeshift table.

Hannibal watched carefully, Face looked so normal. He shouldn't. He shuffled the cards, lit Jerry's cigarette, dealt, made his first bet. For all Hannibal knew, he could legally freak out, and nobody could blame him. Charlie had almost beaten him to death, had starved him... and god knows what else. It was no secret that Charlie indulged in torture, and not just for information. It was also a known fact that Charlie included rape with their torture techniques. Had that happened to Face? There were no indicators, none that Hannibal would have recognised, at least.

Face appeared like he used to be, a little jumpy maybe, but other...

"Colonel?"

Hannibal pulled himself from his thoughts, looked at his cards. It was a crap hand, but that had never stopped him. "I see your two and raise you five."

TBC