Baaaaack! After another hiatus. Sorry, guys. I appreciate that you're still interested and I am getting new readers (and old readers alike). So I hope you enjoy this. The next chapter will probably be a little like this one and then we'll get to the action (and maybe a little romance?). Read and Review and Alert and Favorite! Love you all. Stay tuned for more!
"Give me your arm," Francesca said as they made their way into the hotel.
"Why?" Hannibal frowned.
"So we look like we're married, you dope!" she laughed to herself.
He held out his arm and Francesca wrapped her hand around it delicately. Her heart was beating quickly. They either got away with this or they didn't and that meant game over. Prison. She couldn't let them all down like that. This was her plan, her ideas, her responsibility. "Be cool."
"Be cool? That's the best you got?" Hannibal chuckled, pulling her up to the desk. "Reservation for Brent."
The man at the front desk smiled and nodded, "Ah, yes." He had a heavy Brazilian accent as he started to drawl about the Brents, "We've been expecting you."
"I suppose you have," Francesca started to peak around the hotel using the best French accent she could muster. "Please, just hurry."
Hannibal couldn't help but laugh to himself, "Yes, please."
The man nodded and pulled a key card from a drawer, "Identification."
He froze for a moment until he remembered the cards in his breast pocket which he reached for and comfortably handed to the receptionist. Francesca smirked and waited for the approval. She had done a great job with the fake IDs and the prosthetics. If something went wrong, she would let down not only herself, but she felt Hannibal. The receptionist smiled, "Your room is on the sixth floor, penthouse suite four."
"Thank you," Hannibal accepted the keycard and looked to Francesca.
As they walked away, he chuckled, "You upgraded that, didn't you?"
"Hey, thought we might as well have a little fun," Francesca laughed as they went to the elevator. She caught Face in the corner of her eye boarding an elevator up to his room.
When they got up to their room, Francesca threw her bag onto the couch and started to shuffle through it. She pulled out a blue dress and a suit which looked a bit wrinkled. She furrowed her brow and walked into the bathroom with both outfits. Hannibal watched her silently, hands in his pockets. Then, eh asked, "Would you like me to…do…anything?"
"No," she called from the bathroom. "Just relax. We have a big night ahead of us, John."
Hannibal walked into the bathroom and watched her for a moment. Her eyes were focused on the coat that she ironed delicately with ease. There was a knock that came at that point in time. Hannibal drifted out and opened it to find Face, Murdock, and B.A.
"You're really good at being inconspicuous, aren't you?" Hannibal murmured, rolling his eyes and walking back into the sitting room.
Closing the door behind them, the boys walked into the sitting room, each checking on Francesca in the bathroom. Face eyed Hannibal with a certain amount of sass. Hannibal leered at him and then looked out the window. "So, what's the plan?" Face shoved his hands in his pockets.
"Well," Francesca shouted from the bathroom as she came out, holding presumably Hannibal's suit. "First, we go down. Then we stake it out. And then we leave. And then we fight," she explained as she continued into the closet to grab a hanger.
Hannibal frowned, "That's it."
"Well, yeah," she turned to him and smiled.
"That's your…plan?" he asked incredulously.
"Yeah," Francesca laughed. "Really, John, your way isn't the only way," she walked into the bedroom.
The boys all looked to him suddenly. B.A. whispered, "John? She calls you John?"
"Not normally," Hannibal smiled lightly.
Murdock cackled, "You're gonna get some soon, man."
"Shut up," he laughed back and sat down on the couch.
"Do you have a plan?" Face asked. "Y'know for…"
"If you have a plan, let me know," Hannibal said. "Because this is not my area."
Face smirked, "Let's go out onto the deck, Hannibal." He held out his hand toward him. "The four of us—Hey, Francesca!" he shouted to her. "We're going to check out the deck."
Francesca poked her head out of the bedroom, "Um…yeah. Sure. I'm going to get a shower. And when you're done, go back to your rooms and get some rest. It's already pretty late." Then she disappeared into the bedroom.
The boys looked out of the sliding glass doors to see the sun already setting below the horizon. Face rolled his eyes, "Sure, mom."
"Shut up," she laughed.
They could hear the water being turned on in the bedroom's bathroom. Face took that as his cue to lead the others onto the deck. He closed the door once they all were out and then said, "Here's the plan."
Flashback
"Hannibal, you want another?" Morrison gestured to Hannibal's empty glass.
Hannibal lifted his head and adjusted his bowtie, "I'm fine."
"You okay?" the older man laughed. "You've been fidgety all night."
"One, it's been half an hour since we got here. Two, I hate bowties…I feel like I'm choking," he chuckled and then picked up his empty glass, examining the few drops of alcohol sitting at the bottom.
"Well, you can loosen it at ten…that's when the party really starts," Morrison laughed.
The two of them were sitting at the bar of the grand Crystal Room. They had been invited to a large dinner being held for several veterans who were upheld in glory and honor. Hannibal, however, did not wish to be there. Morrison dragged him there for a short leave of two days.
Anyway, at the time, Hannibal was nursing a headache with scotch. He slipped his hand into his coat and felt around. He growled, "I left my cigars in my room."
Morrison frowned, "Well, that's a shame." Then he laughed boisterously, "Can't go a few minutes without one, huh?"
"Relax," Hannibal stood up from the stool he sat on. "Stay here, I'll be back in a few minutes," he ordered and then turned to go to the lobby. He went straight to the elevator and pressed the button. It would be awhile, since the hotel was bubbling with people. He looked to the long staircase that led down from the second floor for a moment, the cascading red carpet catching his eye. Then, he scanned the lobby.
The first person he saw was a young man, probably late twenties with light brown hair, greased back. He wore a charcoal gray suit and a red tie tucked into his jacket. The man had his square, thick phone. He seemed to be preoccupying himself while he waited, sometimes looking up to the staircase. Hannibal looked above the elevator at the floor counter. It seemed to be stuck up on the second floor, perhaps loading up or waiting. So he turned his attention back to the interesting man.
But the man had stepped forward to the stairs, looking up at the staircase. Hannibal followed the man's gaze.
At the top of the staircase stood a woman in a red dress. As he looked more closely, he recognized the face that was framed by golden hair.
Francesca.
Of course, he thought. She always turned up in the strangest places. While it was an exciting encounter, he was confused about the man at the bottom of the steps.
He still observed her, however. The dress was sleeveless and tight, hugging her tightly in the garment. As Hannibal's eyes traveled down Francesca, his eye caught the gold brooch on her hip, leading to the long and high slit of the dress down her leg. Francesca was met by the man at the bottom of the staircase as she descended. He pressed his lips to her cheek for a moment and then held out his arm toward her. Francesca accepted it with a small smile and said something to him. The man replied, causing her to laugh. Then, they walked quickly into the Crystal Room which he had come from.
Hannibal lowered his gaze. He saw that beside him the elevator had opened and was waiting for him. He ignored the elevator and dazedly walked after them. He looked to the bar. Morrison was no longer sitting there. However, he didn't have to look far.
Morrison had stopped Francesca and the man to greet them. The man held out his hand toward the general before Francesca hugged him. They had met a few times before and had the mutual friendship with Tommy. They talked for a few minutes, exchanging words about, Hannibal supposed, her brother. He lingered closer to hear her speaking.
"…keeping our hopes high," she had said. Something then caught her eye, "Oh, excuse me for a moment. I'm going to go congratulate Roy."
They let her part. Hannibal found it as the perfect chance to intercede, "Hello."
Morrison looked to him, "Hannibal! I'd like you to meet Henry Soto. He works for the CID."
Henry nodded toward Hannibal with a smile, "Nice to meet you, sir."
"Yes," he replied with a tone of skepticism. "You as well."
"Well, as I was saying," Henry continued from where he had obviously left off. "I've been working there for a few years and Francesca and I were recently working together. We travelled down here afterward."
Hannibal narrowed his eyes with envy, "Appears she's your date."
"Uh…" Henry blushed and shrugged slightly. "We didn't really go into it."
Before Hannibal could respond, Francesca returned with a flourish, "Sorry, I just had to-" Her eyes stopped on him. "Hello."
"Hello," Hannibal replied. Francesca looked both shocked and frightened in that moment their eyes met.
"How are you?" she said, losing the shock. Her mouth broke out into a small smile.
Henry turned to look at her, "You know each other, Francesca?"
"Yes," she didn't look away from Hannibal.
"I'm good," he laughed nervously. "And you?"
The conversation was like one between two exes who were completely unhappy with everything and just wanted the other again. Morrison quickly interrupted them, "Well, Hannibal and I were just on our…w-way. So maybe we'll see one another again tonight."
"Right," Francesca's smile faded.
"Well, come on, Checka. Why don't we go get a drink, huh?" Henry put his arm around her.
Checka… Hannibal thought with a bit resentment toward the younger man.
"I could use a drink," she sighed. "Alright, so long, gentlemen."
They walked away from the two men. Morrison stared at Hannibal with intensity, "What was that?"
"What?" Hannibal frowned.
"That was…strange," Morrison grinned. "That was surreal."
Hannibal raised an eyebrow, "Surreal…"
"Yeah. You exchanged a few words in such a slow fashion."
Hannibal didn't reply, watch the couple approach the bar, laughing. Francesca looked back at him and smiled crookedly.
"Hannibal," Morrison said gruffly.
"What?" he looked back.
He crossed his arms, "How long have you known Miss Barrett?"
"Oh my God, Rus-"
"Answer me, Hannibal."
"Since Tommy's wedding…" Hannibal replied cautiously.
"And have you come into contact with her since? Before now?"
Hannibal looked Morrison in the eye and then cast his gaze through a group of people laughing over by the dance floor.
"Alright then, that would be a yes."
End Flashback
"Tomorrow nigh, you're going to be a perfect gentleman. You're going to be the guy every girl wan-" Face began until Murdock cut him off.
"Look, it's not going to work," Murdock rolled his eyes. "You can't turn Hannibal into you."
"Hey, it works," Face held up his hand.
"Yeah, but your track record isn't so clean, huh?" B.A. prodded.
Hannibal leaned on the terrace, "Guys…"
"Here, be yourself. Act like you did when you were with her before…you know. Don't be distant," Murdock advised.
"But then she won't get the message," Face accused Murdock.
B.A. threw his hands up, "It's not about what we agree to. It's about what Hannibal thinks is best. We shouldn't plan this all out."
"But…Francesca will never know that Hannibal is hinting at this if we don't help him. He doesn't know anything about women!" Face scoffed.
"I'm right here!" Hannibal interjected.
He was ignored as they continued talking.
"If Francesca is interested, and she obviously is," B.A. began.
"You don't know that!" Face retorted.
"Then why'd she kiss him, fool?"
"I kissed her…" Hannibal tried to note while they continued to ramble on.
He was not retaining information they rattled off and began to think that this was all a mistake. After another few minutes, Hannibal intervened again, "Look, I appreciate the help-"
Face held up a hand, "Hannibal, shush."
"I don't understand why you-"
"Shush," Face reiterated.
"Face, for God's sake, I don't need help with this-"
Face then pushed his hand onto his lips with wide eyes. Everyone was quiet. In the room, they could hear Francesca humming loudly or singing quietly. They exchanged glances of worry. Had she heard? Did she know?
"Its fine, she's probably still in the shower," Murdock shrugged. "Let's just relax, enjoy Rio!" He turned back into the room and went to the couch, collapsing. "Auuuuuuugh, I'm tired." He looked to the bag next to him. "This looks fun."
The others walked in, seeing Murdock ruffling through Francesca's belongings. "Murdock!" B.A. scolded quickly.
Hannibal couldn't help but watch to see what Murdock found. He pulled out a few sheets of paper, which actually turned out to be pictures. "What are these?" Hannibal walked around the back of the couch to look into the pictures.
The first was a school photograph, the awful ones set against a blue background where a photographer told you to turn your head to the right even if there was a huge zit on that side of your face. It was a young girl. Hannibal supposed it was Tommy's seven year-old daughter, Jessica. Her lateral incisor was missing and her light brown hair was braided on either side of her head. Her eyes were the color of Francesca's.
The next picture was of not only Jessica, but also her younger brother, Andrew, as well as Francesca. He was a year and a half younger and a head shorter than his sister. They looked practically alike in every way except Andrew had dark blonde hair. Francesca lingered over them on the ground of yard littered with toys. She was kneeling, looking slightly at the camera with a smile, pulling back on Andrew's shoulder. Jessica had her head placed in the curve of Francesca's waist as she grinned at the camera, holding up a half-naked Barbie doll.
Murdock shuffled through them again. The third one was of Francesca and Tommy on the day of his wedding. She had his fingers on his bow tie, adjusting it slightly. He was looking to her with a little frustration in his eyes. But it was endearing, nonetheless Hannibal gazed at the photo, remembering the light pink dress Francesca was wearing that night and how the next morning, he fumbled with the zipper as he took it off of her.
There were a few more pictures of Jessica and Andrew. It was obvious the two were very dear to Francesca as her niece and nephew. Murdock pulled out the final picture. "Who's that?" he said with disgust, pointing to the man next to Francesca in the picture.
Hannibal took it out of his hand as Face and B.A. flanked him in order to get a better look. The man had both of his arms around Francesca's waist, holding her close to him. Tightly. It wasn't a hug, but instead, an embrace. His face was to the camera. He had tan skin and hazel eyes, and a smile near laughter. Francesca had her lips hanging slightly onto the skin of his neck.
Face raised an eyebrow, "Does she have a boyfriend, Hannibal?"
"She told me she didn't," Hannibal shook his head, a little shocked.
Murdock looked up from the couch, "There's writing on the back."
Hannibal flipped over the photo. Messy writing in black.
October, 2009
Do you remember this? We were happy, weren't we?
I just want this again. I'm sorry…everything I did. It wasn't right.
I can't imagine losing you.
You're everything to me. So, please stay.
"What are you doing?"
They all turned to see Francesca standing in a robe with her hair piled high over her head in a towel. There was a frown on her face. None of them could speak. The anger in her mounted and she growled, "What the hell are you doing?"
Hannibal still clutched the picture, looking ashamed and blushing.
Francesca glared at all of them, but especially Hannibal. It wasn't just an invasion of privacy. Those pictures contained her life, what was happening. They peered into her mind by looking at those pictures. "Whatever," she muttered and walked over to Murdock, snatching the pictures out of his hands. "You're unbelievable." Then she threw a glare at Hannibal as she forced the picture out of his hand. She put them into the bag and then held out her hand, "One of you give me a keycard."
"What?" B.A. asked ridiculously.
"I'm not staying here. I need my own room and I need it now," she sucked in her lower lip.
"Who's the guy?" Face questioned her.
"Dave," Hannibal said quietly.
Francesca shook her head, "Give me a key."
They all remained silent. Francesca picked up the bag, "Fine, you decide and then I'll accept whichever key."
She ran back into the bedroom and started to pack whatever she had taken out, which was not much, slamming the door behind her.
There was a long silence between them all until they heard hiccups in the other room. Hiccups that must've been biting back tears.
Hannibal walked up to the door, "Francesca."
She opened the bedroom door, holding her bag. Tears were held up in her eyes, "Key?"
"Why do you have a picture of Dave?"
"I refuse to talk about this, Hannibal."
Biting his lip, he pushed her further, "You either still love him or you feel bad for leaving him. And you wouldn't still love him because you said you never did, so it must be the other option."
"I don't have to explain myself to you," Francesca murmured. "Of all people…I thought you got it." She gasped for more air and spoke, trying to make sure the others couldn't here her in the other room, "You understood. I thought I could trust you again. I was just…so wrong." A few tears dripped down her cheeks. She began to say something, "I thought that-"
But she shook her head and pushed past him. Hannibal lifted his head, leaning on the doorframe. He could here her order B.A. for his keycard and his rebuttal. Hannibal knew that he would give her the key. Truth be told, Francesca frightened B.A. a bit. She frightened them all.
Francesca walked past Hannibal to get to the door. He tried to reach out and grab her arm, "Francesca, wait."
She didn't. She walked right out of the hotel room, leaving Hannibal waiting in front of the door. "That went well."
"Yeah…" Face trailed off.
"Well, she obviously won't be interested any time soon. Let's give up on that dream," Hannibal clasped his hands.
It would be awhile, he thought, until she trusted him again.
Murdock lowered his head, "It's my fault, I'm sorry."
Hannibal turned to the pilot and smiled, "It is."