I'm so sorry I've taken so long to update! But I've been so busy this last week or two. I'll try to crank out so more chapters. And writer's block never helps. So, here you go, the latest installment. Keep reading and reviewing!
DG
Francesca paid the motel in cash and hoped they couldn't see Face limping outside the window. She turned to Hannibal and a fake smile spread across her face, "Honey, could you go get the bags from the car?"
It wasn't too much of a lie. It was a small one in fact. They did have bags. Just not a car. One bag was filled with gauze and bandages and other random things Murdock had thrown into his basket when he had ten minutes to shop.
The other had two bottles of alcohol. Whisky and vodka. Francesca was clear in her instructions. Face needed whisky, she need vodka.
Hannibal went out the office door and followed his team toward an empty wall.
"You okay, Lieutenant?" he looked at the coat covering Face's wound as to not draw suspicion.
"No. No I'm actually not," Face's eyes were wide. Maybe he thought the wider his eyes could open the less pain he'd be in. But alas, no such luck.
Francesca came out of the office and went toward the men. She didn't make eye contact, didn't speak. She led them farther down the row of doors and up some stairs. Face cursed the whole way up, even though he was practically carried by B.A.
Opening the door, Francesca breathed out. "Alright. How's that leg?"
"How do you think?" Face collapsed on the bed and grazed his hand across the blood.
"The blood doesn't look like it's clotting," she sat down.
Hannibal lingered over her, "We can't take him to a hospital."
"I know," she opened the bag in his arm and pulled out the bottle of vodka.
As she opened it, Hannibal went to the bathroom, "You want a cup?"
She smirked, "A cup?" Francesca put the bottle to her lips and knocked back some of the alcohol. She let out a sigh of relief, trudging into the bathroom and taking all the towels she could find.
"What is she doing?" Face growled.
"Calm down, Facey," Murdock rested on the bed with Face.
Hannibal went into the bathroom after her. Francesca was perched on the side of the bathtub, cutting a towel with a small knife. "Where'd you get that?"
"None of your business," she flashed a counterfeit smile.
Kicking the door half closed, Hannibal went further into the bathroom, "Francesca…"
"Special Agent Barrett, yes?" the towel fell into two halves.
"I am not calling you Special Agent Barrett so you can just forget about that," he rolled his eyes.
She stood up and held the knife at her side, "You're so stubborn. You always were."
Flashback-Trouble
Hannibal sat down at the long conference table and sighed. He didn't know why he was here. It was just a meeting, some Special Forces people, government people, people people.
Tommy sat next to him, "Hello, Hannibal."
"Where have you been? Enjoying the married life?" Hannibal smirked.
"Yeah, Mel's been really moody lately, from what I've heard," Tommy shook his head.
Without hesitation, Hannibal asked, "How's your sister?"
"Why don't you ask her for yourself?" Tommy smiled and looked toward the door.
Hannibal saw Francesca coming through the door. His reaction was a mix of shock and happiness. She seemed preoccupied with the documents in her hand and was trailing a taller woman with red hair. "She looks very busy," Hannibal speculated.
"She's been working her ass off for a promotion. She'll notice us sooner or later," Tommy leaned on the table.
"Let's get started," the redheaded woman went to the head of the table.
Francesca sat down right across from Tommy and Hannibal. She was wearing a white Oxford shirt tucked into a black pencil skirt. Hannibal noted her stiff posture and almost rigid facial expression. Finally, she looked up to meet Hannibal's eyes. She froze.
"Hi," she whispered, smiling meekly. Then she looked over to her brother, "I have to talk to you.
"Agent Barrett," the women crossed her arms. "Is there a problem?"
Francesca expression became stone again, "No, no problem."
"Okay, anyways," the woman went on, but the three of them continued there silent banter.
Tommy frowned, "Why?"
She shook her head, "Nothing bad."
"Why?" he pushed.
Francesca simply turned her head to ignore her brother. Tommy resorted to childhood antics, kicking her under the table.
"Fu-" Francesca choked back.
"Agent Barret, what's going on?" the redhead turned back.
Francesca's leg throbbed as she tried to think of a cover story. She turned to the man beside her, "Griffin, be quiet."
"I didn't say anything!" the man said defensively
"I don't care. Just be quiet," the woman pointed out.
The meeting continued. Hannibal's mind kept drifting from the meeting to Francesca. Her eyes kept meeting his. They were narrow, they smiled at him. When he heard the words 'break for lunch' he shot out of the room.
Francesca came out slowly and met him, "Colonel Smith. I'm surprised to see you here."
"The feeling his mutual," he smiled.
Tommy rushed out, "Francesca, what's going on?"
"Nothing bad! Let's go to lunch, okay?"
"No, come on!" Tommy was frantic.
Francesca rolled her eyes, "Mel wants to talk to you."
"What's wrong with Mel?" his eyes were wild.
Hannibal couldn't help but smile at Francesca's supremely calm exterior, "Nothing is wrong, you big dope! Go call her. We'll meet you in the restaurant downstairs."
Tommy shook his head, "Jesus, you have a way of screwing with people." He walked away quickly.
Hannibal and Francesca started to walk toward the elevator. He asked, "Nothing's wrong with Mel?"
"I guess it depends on your opinions on life. Your… ideals," Francesca laughed quietly. They stopped in front of the elevator, "I think Tommy will be happy."
Still confused, Hannibal pressed the down button on the elevator.
Beaming, Francesca continued, "Mel's pregnant."
"Really?" Hannibal examined the smile. It was bold, it was cheerful, it was real.
"She just couldn't wait for Tommy to get back home," they stepped into the elevator. "But anyway, how are you?"
He leaned on the wall, "I've been fine."
"Are you still single?" she sighed as the door closed.
Hannibal gave her a sidelong gaze, "Yes…"
Francesca bit her lip, "Thank God."
She put his hands on his cheeks and kissed him deeply. When she pulled away, Hannibal frowned, "Wow."
"I know," she smiled and flipped down the manual stop for the elevator.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and smiled, "Great idea."
End Flashback
Francesca took the vodka bottle again and drank. She now was sitting over Face, her knife lingering over the wound, "Okay. I can get it out. Didn't hit any major veins or arteries. Deep breaths." She held up her knife, "This is going to hurt."
Face bent his head back, feeling a deep stab in his leg. He clenched his teeth on the towel and resisted the urge to scream. Both Murdock and Hannibal stared intently at what she was doing while B.A. looked away and tried to not hear the groans. Francesca pulled the bullet from his leg and compressed another towel, "Where's the lighter?"
Reaching into his pocket, Hannibal handed it to her, "How long is recovery?"
"Um… it depends on how fast it heels. So he doesn't get an infection," Francesca put her knife over the lighter for a little bit. "Luckily it didn't hit any major arteries. It's okay."
Face reached for the whisky, the towel dropping from his mouth.
She cauterized the wound. Face rolled his head around, "Holy… holy…"
"Done," Francesca smiled in reassurance to Face. She touched the wound, "It'll be okay."
A phone tinkled from the chair in the corner.
Face was still reeling, "That's yours."
B.A. picked it out of Face's pants pocket and was about to put it on speaker.
Hannibal looked at Francesca, "Let her take the call."
She took the phone and leaned on the wall, "Hello?"
They all waited in anticipation for her responses.
"No, no I'm glad you called. What's going on?" Francesca set herself up for an emotional downturn.
A long pause.
Francesca mouth fell open, "No. No, you can't do that."
Hannibal stood up a little straighter.
"I'm his medical proxy, Mel. You can't do that unless I say so," her eyes seethed in anger. "Tommy will get through it, he will."
Another long pause. Francesca hung up, her hands shaking.
Everyone stared at the phone. Francesca went toward the door, "I need a moment."
"You're not going anywhere," B.A. urgently tried to stop her.
"What the hell am I going to do?" her voice heightened in pitch. "Fine."
She dropped the knife, kicked off both of her shoes, and unclipped the silver bracelet from her wrist. With a strong flick, she threw it across the room, fuming. The four men could see tears forming in her eyes. "I have nothing."
Then, Francesca opened the door and left.
Hannibal leaned on the dresser and covered his eyes. No one spoke. So he stood back up, walking out the door. "Francesca!"
She didn't reply. She walked down the steps toward the parking lot.
"Francesca, stop."
"Leave me alone!" Francesca cried.
He followed her through the weaving path, "Stop for a minute."
"Please!" she kept going.
First, Hannibal stopped, "Just talk to me."
Francesca turned around and threw her hands up, "Fine." She ran her hand through her hair, "What now?"
He sat down beside her, "What's going on?"
"You just have to pry and poke into everything, don't you?" she snapped.
Hannibal shook his head, "That's not what I'm trying to do."
Francesca desperately didn't want to cry in front of him. But she couldn't stop herself. The first tear dripped down her cheek, "Tommy is all I have left and Mel's taking him away from me."
"Francesca…" Hannibal couldn't really speak. He knew that he had once been on that list. She used to be able to go to him for anything. Those days had passed. He put his arm around her and felt her face fall into his chest, "It's okay. It's just as hard for her. And me."
Francesca sobbed, grabbing his shirt. She remembered when he used to hold her. When she was near him because she wanted to be. However, this wasn't the same because now, her heart was broken.