Hope you're still reading! I'm sorry, but I'm finally out of all the business, so I'm getting a chance to read. I hope you like it. Let me know!

DG

Francesca lowered her gaze from the boys. "Well, go pack up your stuff. Be very quiet. Then meet back in here."

"What are we going to do?" Face bit the inside of his cheek.

"We're going to run," Francesca nodded with finality. "She's bad, right?"

Face pressed his fingers to his cheek in anxiety, "Not bad. The people with her are the ones who want us in prison. Not her."

"We still have to leave," Hannibal agreed with Francesca, looking to her quickly. "So go. Ten minutes."

Murdock frowned, "I left some stuff downstairs, though."

"I'll text Polly. She can bring-" Francesca began, stopping to listen to a voice downstairs.

"I'm Captain Charisa Sosa. We are here to ask some questions. Do you know anything on the whereabouts of these men?" Sosa started.

"Go," Hannibal ordered under his breath.

The other three dispersed silently and swiftly. Francesca turned back to Hannibal, "Where did we leave off?"

"I don't remember," Hannibal replied sheepishly. "Do you think you should get this out of my hair?"

Francesca nodded, "Sure. Just rest your head over the side of the tub." She turned on the warm water just as he leaned back.

He closed his eyes, feeling her touch. The pads of her fingers caressed his scalp dispassionately as she got the dye out. Hannibal opened his eyes suddenly to find himself staring at her chest as she bent over him. Again, he closed them tightly.

"Is the water alright?" Francesca asked.

"Yes, just fine," he swallowed.

She turned off the water a few minutes later and then handed him a towel, "Dry and then get your stuff together. We're shipping out."

Hannibal looked to her, took the towel, and smiled, "Right. Yeah."

"You okay?" Francesca stood up and went into the bedroom quietly.

"Fine," he got up and grunted. "Absolutely, fine."

Francesca ducked under the bed and pulled out a vintage Louis Vuitton suitcase, "Good. Then you should get to work packing."

"Yes, I should," he lingered by the doorway of the room, listening to the conversation taking place downstairs.

"Are you sure you haven't seen any of them?"

"Of course. I think I'd remember."

"Ms. Engels, are you aware that if you're lying, you are letting four dangerous men continue on with their antics?"

"They've kidnapped a young woman, Francesca Barrett," he heard Sosa sigh. "Do you know her?"

Polly spoke quietly, "Yes. Yes, I do. She's my Goddaughter."

"Do you know where they are now?" one of the men accompanying Sosa asked Polly in a manner of torture.

Francesca looked to Hannibal, "Don't listen to them. Polly knows exactly what she's doing."

Hannibal turned to Francesca, "Has she done it before?"

"Perhaps," she smirked and went to the dresser to open it. "Wow, I forgot about these." She pulled out two different, neon miniskirts. "God, I can't believe I used to fit in these. They're like hats now."

Hannibal rolled his eyes and chuckled, "Exaggerations."

She looked up, "You look different with brown hair. I don't like it."

"How unfortunate for you," he smiled.

Francesca picked up her cell phone from the dresser and started to text Polly, "May I ask you a question?"

"Perhaps," Hannibal approached her. "What is it?"

Brushing some hair from her face, Francesca asked, "Why did you kiss me the other night?" She continued speaking without his answer, "Considering that…something must've compelled you."

He lowered his gaze, "Alright. I'm going to go pack."

"So what is that supposed to mean?" Francesca frowned.

"It means I refuse to answer your question."

"Then you love me," she stated.

Hannibal turned back to her with a look of shock on his face.

"And since I know that to be false, tell me why you kissed me."

He simple replied, "You were upset… It seemed right." He then left the room in order to stop talking about it. He was so uncomfortable, especially since he was blatantly lying to her.

Flashback

Francesca walked up to the front door of the rundown shack. In the dead of night, she was really spooked by the place. She began shivering and shoved her hand in her coat pocket, searching for the lone key. In the silence, she could hear faint footsteps somewhere. Frowning, Francesca unlocked the front door, but kept her hand on her other side where she kept her gun.

"I hate my job," she murmured. She opened the door and stepped into the musky smelling living room. There was the usual rickety, gingham patterned sofa that faced an ugly painting of what looked to be a hat sitting beside a glass of ice water. The footsteps continued, she thought, upstairs. Francesca approached the dusty stairs, holding the gun out in front of her. She whispered, "I hate my life."

Francesca snuck quietly across the upstairs hallway toward the bedroom, "Who's there?"

Pressing her foot to the bottom of the door, she swallowed, "Show yourself."

"Hey, relax," she heard a deep voice.

Turning round, she found Hannibal standing at the other end of the hallway, "What if I had shot you? What would you have done?"

"It's nice to see you too," Hannibal walked to her and kissed her forehead.

"Hi," Francesca rolled her eyes and wrapped both of her arms around him. "What are you doing here?"

Hannibal shrugged, "I thought you might want a break from work. Follow me." He took her by the hand into the bedroom that Francesca had just been searching.

In the room, there was a dirty futon and a bottle of inexpensive wine. Francesca smiled lightly, "How…romantic is not the right word, but the first that comes to mind."

"I did what I could in the time I had."

"So you underperformed considering you're a member of the most successful team of rangers in the history of the United States military services," Francesca raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "It was nice of you to think of me."

"I know I underperformed, but romance isn't my area of expertise," he picked up the bottle of wine and opened it without too much struggle. "You, my dear, can have the first sip."

Francesca laughed and accepted the bottle, saying with sarcasm, "Wow, you're the sweetest guy I've ever known." She swigged the wine and said, "So, how'd you get a away?"

"Murdock is preoccupied with Cheers reruns, B.A. fell asleep in the back of the van, and Face is having sex with some girl he picked up at Niagara Falls," Hannibal collapsed down on the futon. "The usual."

Kneeling down beside him on the futon, Francesca handed him the bottle, "Oh… sounds pretty normal."

Hannibal smiled back at her, "Well, I've got an hour or two."

"That makes a difference what I decide to do with you, John," she ran one of her hands down his chest.

"I'll give you an hour and a half," he closed his eyes.

Lowering her gaze, Francesca replied, "Then I'll take it slow." She leaned down, resting her chin on his chest and gazed across his tan skin. "How are you?"

Hannibal wrapped his arm around her, tracing his fingers across her back, "I'm good."

She sighed, turning the left side of her face against his chest, "I'm glad."

"How are…you?" he opened his eyes again and tightened his grasp around her.

Francesca bit her lip, "I've been better."

"I know you have…"

"It's just been difficult," she murmured. "Especially for Mel. She's just devastated. As am I, but she has the baby. Not convenient timing." Francesca got up again and sat with her legs crossed, "Tommy feels awful. And it's dumb because it's not his fault. No reason to feel awful."

Hannibal replied, "It's an awful situation."

"If anyone should've gotten cancer it should've been me," she turned her head away. "I smoke cigarettes like they're oxygen. I don't wear sunscreen…and I drink a lot. My liver is probably shot already," Francesca pondered.

He sat up, "Calm down, it's just an unfortunate situation. Tommy shouldn't have gotten cancer, but neither should you." Hannibal clapped his hand down on Francesca's. "Don't worry."

Francesca silently moved toward him and pressed her lips to his, running one of her hands around in his hair. He responded by relaxing again and leaning back on the futon. Pulling away for only a moment, Francesca smiled, "You always know what to say." Her lips crashed onto his again. The passion intensified, her breath became heavier. The testosterone was palpable in the dusty room.

Hannibal became unresponsive, turning his head away.

She frowned, "What's wrong?"

"I…" he sat up, Francesca still clinging to his shirt. "I thought I heard something…"

Francesca turned to look at the doorway. Indeed there was a sound, not one like the creaking of an old home. She bit her lip, "Well, can't we-"

"Shhhh…" Hannibal trailed off and got up off of the bed. He went to his jacket which he had casually flung over a chair in the corner of the room.

"Are you sure? It's an old house," she tried to deny what they were hearing.

He smiled to her, "It's not a big deal to just check it out."

"Well, let me come then. I don't feel safe all by my lonesome," Francesca giggled.

Hannibal approached the door and peered out, "There's someone. I can see their shadow."

Jumping off of the futon, she fled toward him, "What do we do?"

He didn't reply, instead opening the door slowly. Francesca stood against the wall in agonizing anxiety. She didn't even realize how she was acting. Her job was to serve and protect and she did her job well. Never frightened. Until now, when she had this man to defend her. Suddenly, a gunshot went off. Francesca heard Hannibal's gasp. She jumped back and ran to the door, frightened that she would see Hannibal lying on the ground. Fortunately enough, he wasn't. Another shot went off and she jumped back.

Hannibal grunted, ran toward the figure, trying to reach out and grab the collar of the stranger's shirt, but missed by inches. He shot again. His shot had never been so off in such a short radius. Francesca ran out of the room behind him, her hands steady on her own gun. She aimed, shot, and hit the target.

The stranger crumpled up at the end of the hallway, hand pressed to their shoulder.

Hannibal looked back to her with an flushed grimace. She touched his arm and said in a blunt tone, "Well, what should we do with the bastard?"

End Flashback

Francesca had packed all of her things and was now waiting near the staircase for Polly to come up. Murdock ran out of the room he had been sharing with the guys and whispered, "How are we getting out of here?"

"We'll go out the back window and grab the car," Francesca pointed toward his bedroom. "I'm just waiting for Polly to get a moment to bring up the keys and papers."

Downstairs, Polly had gotten the text, read it when Charisa and her helpers weren't looking, and had stood up in an attempt to get them to leave, "If you don't mind, I've got to go to a doctor's appointment."

"Just a few more questions," one man said definitively.

Polly sat back down, worried by his tone of voice, "What more could you ask?"

Charisa shifted uncomfortably in her shoes and crossed her arms. She didn't want to mention that she kept hearing footsteps upstairs. "Ms. Engels, do you mind if I go upstairs and check it out?"

Pursing her lips, Polly replied, "No, not at all."

"Thank you," Charisa nodded and smiled plainly.

Back upstairs, Francesca and Murdock dispersed, hearing Charisa approach the steps. They ran into the bedroom where all the boys had holed up, waiting to go. Face began to speak, but Francesca forcefully shut him up with her hand. His eyes widened as she spat in a hushed tone, "Charisa."

Hannibal came up from behind Face and went to the door. Francesca quickly grabbed his arm, shaking her head, "Stop."

He faltered and looked back at her. She looked worried and anxious.

The door flew open. They all took a step back, waiting. Charisa walked into the room, less than shocked. She narrowed her eyes at Francesca, "You're Francesca Barrett, then."

Francesca nodded, "Yes, I am."

"Well…" Charisa pursed her lips. "You're going to end up in a bad place if you continue on with them," her eyes flicked to Face.

He bravely interjected, "She's not like that."

"Like what?" Francesca looked to Hannibal.

"Really? Like that's believable," Charisa laughed delicately and then looked back to the door.

Francesca finally caught on, "Oh! Oh no, I'm not…"

"Well, what's your ulterior motive?" she replied. "What is there to gain from getting yourself involved with them?"

Answering quickly, Francesca said, "We've been through too much for me to quit now."

Charisa looked to Hannibal, the man who constantly intimidated her. "I don't know what you're all up to, but whatever it is-"

"Don't pretend like you're going to take us back to prison, Sosa," Hannibal swallowed. "You're going to walk right back out that door and pretend like you didn't see us."

She froze and then turned back to the door. Before she left, Charisa addressed them all, "Good luck." Zeroing in on Francesca, she smiled, "One of these screwed up guys is gonna rope you in somehow." Her eyes drifted up toward Face for a moment before Face broke their gaze. She finally left, announcing down the stairs, "It's all clear up there."

Francesca gave a sigh of relief and leaned on Hannibal's shoulder, "So she's a good guy."

"We're assuming so," Hannibal looked over at her.

B.A. and Murdock stared at the pair who were intimate in the strangest of ways. B.A. smiled, "He's just gotta be a bit more outgoing, huh?"

Murdock rolled his eyes, "Knowing Hannibal that might take awhile."

Another pair of footsteps ran up the staircase. "I got the paper," Polly's voice whispered from the other side of the door. Francesca rushed forward and opened the door to find Polly.

"Thanks," she took the paper. "We'll be off then."

Polly whimpered slightly, "Oh…you better not let another few years go by before I see you again."

"I won't," Francesca came forward and kissed her cheek. "Thank you for everything you've done for us, Polly."

Hannibal gave an affirmative nod, "Yes, thank you."

The boys followed in a round of graces like little children who had just been told to say something.

Polly pointed to Hannibal and ordered, "Be safe."

"I can't guarantee that," he chuckled.

She gave one last beam of her old, yellowing teeth, and then turned out of the room. Francesca stepped away from the door and then looked to the window. "Let's get going." She folded her arms against the papers to her chest.

As Face, B.A., and Murdock began to open the window and clear out, Hannibal put his hand on her shoulder, "You alright?"

Francesca bit her lip, "Yeah…"

"You sure?"

She turned her head toward him, "I'd just like to know why you kissed me."

"And that will remain unknown," he lifted his hand from her. He went to the window, "How about I go down and you hand down the last of the bags?"

Francesca nodded, "Sure."

Fifteen minutes later, the boys and Francesca were all in Polly's old SUV, riding south. B.A. drove, Hannibal sat in the passengers seat, while Murdock and Face tittered the in the back. Francesca rested her eyes in the cramped, way-back. She thought about what was going to happen and what had happened. Clutching her cell phone to her chest, Francesca looked up to the rearview mirror before finally trying to find sleep.

Hannibal looked up at that moment. Their eyes met. He winked and quietly looked back to the road while Francesca wallowed in excitement.

Face interrupted her rest soon after.

"I think we're being followed," he said, looking back through the window.

The rest looked back for a split second before hearing the roar of an engine gaining on them.

"Charisa," Face swallowed. "God, what is she doing?"

"She's trying to be a double agent," B.A. reasoned. "And she's not being a very good one."