I wanted to give you guys one more chapter before the new year (2012 already?). So here it is, extra long. I am in a writing mood lately, so I hope I can crank out a few more. Please review and love it as much as I do! A little fluff and friendship. Enjoy and have a happy, wonderful, new year!
DG
The four men stood in a line as Face bent over the lettered and numbered pad. W-A-L-C-6-7-2. He pressed in the numbers forcefully, thinking that would help open the door. Even without his strong fingers, the door flew open. They all felt relief. This time, they were sure they would die if they got caught. Everything was two times harder when it came to second chances. Both Face and Hannibal had learned that lesson through women.
Face stepped through the door and quietly positioned himself to the side of it, holding his gun out in case of a sudden ambush, "Come on."
Hannibal and B.A. followed stealthily with weapons at the ready. They knew they were being watched. Luckily, that was all in the plan. Hannibal and B.A. quickly dispersed across the building, an industrial, grey building, darkened. They knew security couldn't be too far behind or before them. While Hannibal and B.A. distracted, Face was going to steal the plates. He had found out from an "extremely reliable source" that the plates remained within a locked office on once side of the operation.
The dark abyss was only aided by their practiced sight and adjusting vision. Face certainly couldn't stake out the territory in the dark, but he tried his best as he stayed out of the vision of cameras by hugging the wall. While dark was the enemy it was also their savior, enveloping them in the perfect disguise. Hannibal and B.A. went forward reaching out for the something to hold on to.
"You're looking for something, aren't you?" a voice called out, a man's voice.
The three men froze and waited for the voice again.
"We've been waiting for you, gentlemen," it said again.
Face realized it must've been Edward McDonald. He hadn't confronted them in Rio. He didn't actually show up, so now he was going to corner them and trap them like mice. "Shit…" Face murmured.
He could feel Hannibal glare at him. Silence was key. Stillness aided that. Face, however, never really agreed to that. He often strayed away from Hannibal's plan. Turning back to the wall, Face started to continue on, but traced his fingers across the wall to find a switch. Reveal where Edward was and show him where the locked office was.
Edward was a handsome man, blonde, tall, and perfectly manicured from head to toe. His face was tailored and pulled to be perfect. It was obvious he tried to be lovely.
There was a cry in the dark. B.A. was set upon. Face and Hannibal both jumped out of their skin. While they knew B.A. could handle himself, this was of dire consequence. Any mission had the occasional attacks, blips in the plan. But they all knew how much this mission meant to Hannibal. It meant a way out, at least for a little bit.
So Face searched a little more and finally came upon the switch. He pulled down and rows of fluorescent lights popped on across the underground warehouse. Now, he could see an office lingering over the working presses slightly diagonal to Face. He made a fun for it, hearing the groans of his companions as they fended for their lives. When only ten feet from the room, he fell over his own feet in anticipation. As he tried to rise again, he was stifled by someone stepping on his back. He cried out in pain and thrashed about.
"Oh, Lieutenant Peck," Edward said, unperturbed as he stood. "Good to see you."
"Get off me!" Face shouted through clenched teeth.
"You know, I never did understand that sort of plea. I'm working against you. Of course, I'm not just going to step off. Maybe if you added please…" he replied, smiling.
Face would've used his gun if it hadn't landed a few inches out of reach. He started to curse under his breath. He pulled at Edward's shoes and got him to tumble over. They threw punches and kicks, tasted blood, felt sweat dripping down their faces. This went on until they heard, "Hey Face, what the hell are you doing?"
They both looked up to see B.A. hanging out of the office with the silver briefcase in his hand. "How did you do that?" Face asked, pushing Edward McDonald one last time before Edward relented, trying to go for B.A.
"Oh, I just went around the other way. No big deal. Ready to go? Murdock's waiting."
Face stood there dumbstruck at how easily this was pulled off in comparison to all the planning they had undergone. Hannibal rushed past and quickly pushed Edward over in a quick maneuver. "Face, don't just stand there. Get going."
They ran through the office and found an exit on the other side. The Mongolian steppes blew in the tracks of Murdock's helicopter. The three felt air on their faces as they went to reach the helicopter ladder set down for them. As they began to climb, they were attacked by Edward again. He started to climb after them with determined speed, blood dripping down his lips, "I'm not letting you get away with this."
"Bite me," Face spat and kicked Edward in the face.
Edward swung around the ladder and approached from the other side, "You're cowards, running away from a fight." He dug his polished nails into knuckles which seemed to be a last ditch effort, but in fact was extremely powerful. Blood rushed from Face's pierced skin. He clenched his teeth, attempting to escape, but had no luck. He laced his feet around the outside of the ladder and dropped his hands so he could slide down and grasp lower rungs.
With Face out of the way, Edward pulled a shotgun out of his jacket pocket and aimed for B.A. with a tenacious grin.
Scrambling up the ladder further, B.A. chucked the case up into the helicopter and launched himself up the few final rungs. He did not, however, avoid the bullet that Edward shot into bicep. He howled as he landed and clutched the wound with his hand.
"Get a paper cut, Bosco?" Murdock shouted from the front of the cabin.
B.A. didn't even reply, crawling toward the case and rubbing the blood on his pants.
Hannibal and Face were left on the ladder. Caught in between was a madman with a gun.
"If either of you move, I'll shoot you."
Hannibal and Face exchanged a glance and froze. There were a few options. Move, see who the bullet hits and how good Edward's aim was. Drop to the ground: certain death. Or try to attack with their weapons.
None of these did happen though.
B.A., exhausted and bleeding leaned over the helicopter edge, feeling the urge to vomit from the height, but instead brought his gun in front of him and aimed at Edward's head.
His aim was off, hitting Edward in the shoulder, but nonetheless, his attack plan worked. The shock loosened Edward's grip and sent him plummeting to the ground.
Face, Hannibal, and B.A. looked down to the earth, hearing Edward's desperate cry at the bottom.
One thing was for sure. Even with the plates, they knew this wasn't over.
Eliza would be after them again.
Flashback
Francesca blinked, staring up at the white ceiling. There was an annoying, constant beeping. She wiggled her fingers. Her joints cracked. Then suddenly, a horrid amount of pain passed through her gut.
She couldn't remember much.
He left. That was most important.
Francesca tried to sit up, but couldn't. The pain was overwhelming. She groaned. Where was she?
Reaching across her chest, she felt her other arm. An IV. It started to return to her memory. The man and the gun. One single bullet and now she was here.
Francesca was riddled with holes. "Hello?"
There were footsteps and a face, one she couldn't make out or place. "You're going to be fine." It was a woman. "You're in the hospital."
"I…"
"You were shot, but you're in good hands now."
"You should get some more rest."
"I'd rather-"
"Relax. You're fine."
No, I'm not. He's gone.
She could here her heart rate quicken a bit as anxiety plagued her already weak mind. He left. It was too much to bear, an overwhelming feeling of regret, sadness, and disappointment felt like bricks on her chest as she struggled to breathe.
It hurt to concentrate and remember how to exhale and inhale.
End Flashback
"Wow, nice place," Face walked into the foyer of the townhouse, removing his jacket.
"Yeah," Murdock rushed in. "Where do you want us, boss?"
Hannibal entered the house and examined it carefully. To the right there was the kitchen, modern and sleek, but also thoroughly used by the looks of the Tupperwares of cookies and a few plates and mugs sitting by the sink, ready to be washed. To the left there was a tall staircase that bent into the next floor.
Everyone was out of the house. That had been the plan. He walked forward through the front hallway and found a spacious living room. "Guys, come in here. We'll wait." Hannibal had done some research, gotten the information. Francesca had been forced to stay with Mel and the kids for a year. He was so glad and thankful that it had come down to only that, a simple guardian and not prison.
The three followed and all made themselves unusually comfortable in the foreign house. Hannibal remained standing, waiting. While he was filled with excitement and happiness, he was nervous of what could come, what they could cause. He approached the French doors at the end of the room and looked out at the patio which was wonderfully decorated and looked like it had never been used.
B.A. was holding onto his wound that still hadn't completely calmed yet. The blood had clotted, but he was sure that once Francesca came along, he'd be in good hands. It was nice to be in a home, anybody's home, at this point. He relaxed on the couch with his feet on the glass coffee table and looked down the hallway, hearing Face in the kitchen. "Anything good in there, Facey?"
Face had frozen over the counter after rummaging through the fridge. He stared at a bottle in front of him, a pill bottle with a pink and yellow label. He picked it up with a certain amount of skepticism and bit his lower lip.
He scrutinized the label. Prenatal pills. Face wasn't domestically inclined, but he knew that these pills were for a pregnant woman (and this was confirmed by the silhouetted image on the label). Truly, he tried to deny what the back of his mind was thinking.
Maybe Tommy woke up and he and Mel were having another baby.
That wasn't true. Because there were no men's shoes near the doorway and no reason for the man of the house to be out. So if this assumption was false, the back of Face's mind was right.
Francesca was pregnant.
And he knew her well enough at this point to know that she didn't sleep around after she escaped. He trusted her to know that much. Hannibal's heart was a fragile thing. Often his mind overpowered that. Now, it was the ultimate test of Francesca's staying power. "Oh my god…" Face droned still staring at the bottle.
Unbelievable. Of all of them, Face never dreamed that Hannibal was going to fall in love, truest love, first, let alone become a father.
Face was convinced that this might be the hardest mission for Hannibal. He put the bottle down quickly and replied, "Nothing good."
Walking back into the living room, Face collapsed onto once of the recliners. His eyes gravitated toward Hannibal who stood with an almost imperceptible nervousness in his limbs. Face choked on his breath. He knew Hannibal's future. He felt psychic.
Murdock nudged him out of the musing, "Face, you all right?"
"Yeah, why?"
"You've gone white."
It was true. Face had paled completely from his normally rosy, warm complexion. He ran his hand across his face. His hands were cold too. Like death had come upon him, he was struck with fear and knowledge. Knowledge that contained quite a bit of power.
They heard a door open. The four men froze and tried to peer down the hallway as conspicuously as possible.
"Go into the living room and start your homework," they heard Francesca breathe out with a tone of fatigue in her voice. "I'll bring you guys a few cookies and some milk."
Hannibal savored her voice as she spoke each word. The diction. Her voice which soothed him so greatly with words of love, affection, cries of passion and anguish.
Two sets of feet pattered down the hallway, laughing. Jessica and Andrew, Hannibal assumed. They emerged from the hallway, Jessica first. Both of them froze in the doorway.
The four men didn't deal with children regularly. They all managed small smiles. Hannibal crouched down and invited them toward him, "You don't have to be frightened. We're friends of Francesca. Aunt Francesca. We're very good friends of hers."
Jessica stood in front of Andrew protectively and looked into Hannibal's eyes calmly. It was then that she let out a high pitched screech.
He stumbled backward and stood back up, struck with the power of her cry.
"Aunt Francesca! Checka! Checka!" Jessica called out, running back down the hallway, but leaving Andrew behind. "There are robbers, th-thieves in the living room. Murderers!"
"What? Andrew! Andrew, get in the kitchen! Right now!" Francesca screamed frantically. They could hear drawers opening and shutting and more calls to Andrew.
However, Andrew was curious to the men. His eyes gravitated toward Murdock who gave him a wink. He was pleased with the captain's affability. To him, nothing was wrong with the men.
"Andrew!" came Jessica's piercing cry.
Footsteps again. "Andrew, get into the kitchen," Francesca shouted, her voice wavering now with grim panic.
Andrew quickly darted back down the hallway.
"I've got a gun!" she said boldly. Her footsteps were slow and paced. "I'm warning you. God help me, I will shoot you until you're stone cold dead on the floor. Do you hear me?"
Finally, she came out of the hallway, her cheeks streaked with tears and the gun held out in front of her. Her tense hands let up on the weapon as she recognized their faces. She lowered it slowly and dropped it. A gape appeared on her face, "Oh my god."
"Didn't mean to cause such a commotion," Murdock sent her a glimmering smile.
Tingling sensations worked up her waist into her mouth. Words could not come out. She felt a little faint, but she could withstand that. Her eyes stared into Hannibal's. Exquisite excitement was not the only thing that filled her, but also a dread anxiety. What danger had they brought with them? How would she tell Hannibal, now in person, about his impending fatherhood?
Nothing from her lips. The only thing she could do was cry, which she had done very well over the past three months. She pressed her hands against her cheeks and smiled, "It's you."
Hannibal went toward her and pried her hands off her face, clasping them in his own, "I told you I'd find you."
"I told you I'd escape. Guess we're both making good on our promises," she whispered, staring up into his sullen smile.
"Kiss her!" B.A. hooted and Murdock joined in. Face was still glued to his chair with practically no pulse.
"I'm not going to now that you're watching," he shot back at them with a small chuckle.
Francesca jumped up, grabbing his coat in her hands, "Oh, yes, you are." She forced their lips together in a kiss that numbed them. Hannibal felt electrified by her touch. It felt so good to hold her again.
"You're never supposed to indulge the peanut gallery, Francesca," he breathed across her forehead.
"Oh, John," she cried quietly. "I've missed you."
"Aunt Francesca, are you dead?" Andrew cried out from the kitchen.
Her eyes shot open and she laughed. They all started to laugh. Breaking away, she went back into the kitchen and said to them, "They're friends of mine. Good men. Come on, you can meet them."
Jessica stood her ground, her arms crossed, "They broke into our house."
"I said they were good, not perfect, now, come on."
The children took an immediate liking to the men. As none of them were particularly experienced with children, their affection was great for them. Andrew and Murdock were kindred spirits, even if one of them was sane. Jessica was enamored by Face's good looks, admiring him naïvely.
Francesca tended to B.A.'s wound. Hannibal sat beside her with a hand trailing up and down her back.
"Did you get it done?" she started to clean the wound.
"Yeah," B.A. nodded. "We got the case and killed Edward McDonald."
"So we think," Hannibal corrected.
Francesca asked, "Where's the case?"
"Somewhere safe," B.A. replied, flinching as she cleansed the wound with alcohol. "How have you been here?"
Pregnant. "Fine."
Hannibal noticed her falter. He didn't mention it though.
Later, they were finally left alone in the kitchen. Francesca had started cooking dinner and they silently watched each other, examining each other's bodies with care. She had made sure to put the vitamins away before he could see them.
"Where's Mel?" he asked her quietly, approaching her from the side.
"She's at the hospital," Francesca didn't look up at him.
Hannibal didn't ask why. He lifted her hair away from her shoulder and kissed her neck. He slid his hand around her waist, but Francesca quickly took it and brought his hand to her lips. She held it there for quite some time, taking everything in. The hands of a father. The big strong hands fathers used to hold their children in their arms and brush away the tears. Callused fingers from throwing balls, building tree houses, and putting bandages on cuts.
She kissed his hand and murmured, "John, I love you."
"I know," Hannibal replied and put his forehead against her temple. "I love you."
"What danger are you bringing by being here?"
"We can handle them."
Francesca shook her head, "You can't know that."
"I have faith in us," Hannibal murmured.
"I don't want my family in danger. I don't want any of us in danger. Especially now."
He went silent and dropped his hand from hers. Francesca turned to face him and put her hands on his chest.
"John, I have to tell you something," she took in a deep breath.
He pulled away and looked into her eyes, bewildered, "What is it?"
Pursing her lips, Francesca formulated the words in her mouth. His gaze was full of concern. It killed her. She began to say, "I…I'm pr-"
But was cut off when Face ran into the room. "Hey, boss, B.A. wants to talk to you."
Hannibal groaned slightly and looked to Francesca, "I'm sorry. Tell me later, okay?"
"I'll be here," she smiled delicately and lowered her head.
He left her with a kiss on the temple and a squeeze of the hand. Francesca watched him go and then smiled at Face, "How you doin'?"
"Okay. Watcha making?" he asked her.
"Just some spaghetti," she replied, going back to her business.
Face approached her and looked at the sauce that was simmering in a pot. "Smells good," he said, lingering over her shoulder.
"What do you want, Face?" Francesca raised an eyebrow. When his face fell and he didn't reply, Francesca grimaced, "What's wrong?"
"I know."
She frowned, "What?"
"You're…situation."
"Situation…" she started to put the pieces together, but did not say anything more.
Clearing his throat, Face put his lips almost against her ear as he whispered, "Pregnant."
"Right," her eyes shot open. "My situation—oh right. Yeah. How do you know about that?"
"I found your vitamins on the counter before you got here," Face swallowed. "I assumed they weren't Mel's."
Francesca started to wipe her hands on the skirt of her blue dress and went over to one of the cabinets, "Well. Yeah. I am. Three months."
"And you haven't told Hannibal?"
"I was about to and you interrupted me," Francesca pulled out a box of spaghetti and opened it.
"Why didn't you say in the phone call? Didn't you know?" Face shoved his hands in his pockets. The color was fading again from his Face.
Snapping the spaghetti in half, Francesca dropped it into another pot of boiling water. She raised her head for a moment, "I knew, but I didn't want to tell him. Not that way at least."
"I really don't know what to say to you. Congratulations?" Face said in a snide tone. "Really, congratulations. Jesus, when you tell Hannibal I won't be surprised if he keels over in shock."
"Thanks for the confidence, Face," she hissed and turned back to the pots.
He came up to her and lowered her voice, "Look. I get it. You're scared. But-"
"I'm not, sc-scared," she stumbled through the word.
"Yes, you are. I can tell," Face said definitively. "Hannibal deserves to know. And it's not going to be easy. But you have to try."
Francesca felt tears coming to her eyes, "You know that feeling when you are going around a corner and you're kind of thrilled and frightened to see what it is that's around the corner?" She put down the spoon she had been using to stir the sauce and looked into Face's baby blue eyes. "That's how I feel now. Every second of every day. I'm waiting to see what's happened. I'm worried for my baby's safety. And now that you're back it's a mixed blessing."
Face reached out to her, grasping her hand, "Look, I know you, Francesca. And I know that you are strong enough to handle all this. I swear it'll be easier after you tell Hannibal. Because he's not going to run the other way. He's gonna handle it."
"God, Face you're going to make me cry," she lifted her arms and threw them around him.
"Oh, you want to—okay…" Face accepted the embrace with caution. Hormones.
"Thanks."
They were interrupted when the phone rang. Francesca broke the embrace and picked up the landline answering, "Hello?"
It was Mel. "Francesca, get the kids, come to the hospital," she sounded frantic, just as Francesca had earlier.
"Mel! Mel, what's going on?" she asked urgently.
"Francesca, Tommy. It's Tommy," Mel sobbed happily. "He woke up."