Turning Back
Time II
by Jullian
Gray
Warning: Slash H/F, sex (nothing graphic), language, and
I've played with their ages a little but what the hey it's a dream
Summary: Hannibal continues his dream about going back into
the past to help Face.
Thank you Joanna for all your
help
zzzzzzzzzzzzz
Part 2
Hannibal smiled down at Face as he snuggled in closer to
his side. Carefully he reached down to pull the blankets up more securely
around the tan shoulders and then gently began to stroke the blond hair that
had fallen over his lover's eyes.
It had been a hell of a night: first his dream about going
back in time to save Face and then their passionate love making; not once, or
twice, but three times.
Each time, Face had been the driving force, using his body
to get Hannibal aroused then allowing him to set the pace and take control.
"Crazy kid," Hannibal whispered softly into
Face's ear as he remembered the final time they had made love.
It had started just after he had stepped into the shower to
get cleaned off, only to have Face join him a few minutes later. He could still
see the younger man dropping to his knees in front of him.
His lover's beautiful blue-green eyes looked up at him as
he took him into his mouth. The water rained down over his blond hair, flowing
down his tan back, between his perfectly shaped buttocks. As soon as he was
hard, he pulled Face to his feet, taking him right there in the shower.
"One of these days you're going to wear me out,"
he stated softly as brushed the hair out of Face's eyes.
As if in response to his lover, Face flexed his hand which
was resting on Hannibal's chest, grazing the other
man's nipple.
Hannibal looked down, smiling as he looked at the hair that
had fallen back over the beautiful face of his lover. Closing his own eyes, he
began to think of the last few hours.
There was no doubt that it had been an intense night. He
was glad that he had told Face about his dream and was happy to hear what Face
thought about him trying to save him. But deep down, he began to wonder again
what it would have been like to have Face as a son, and, if he could change
Face's life for the better, whom else could he help.
***********************************************************************
"Momma! Please sir, I'll be
good, please sir. Please, momma!"
These were the screams that woke Hannibal from his sleep.
Quickly, he grabbed his bathrobe as he ran into Face's bedroom where he found
the boy curled into a tight ball in the corner, his eyes darting around the
room.
"Templeton," Hannibal called out softly as he
gently as he approached the boy. He noticed the panic and fear in the
blue-green eyes. Slowly he raised his hands so the boy could see that he meant
him no harm.
"Easy, kid, it's just me. You remember me from
yesterday, don't you?" he asked softly as he knelt down in front of Face.
The boy studied him closely for a minute before answering.
"Han' bal?" he asked
quietly, some of the fear leaving his face as he began to slowly uncurl.
"That's right." Hannibal smiled at the way the
child had pronounced his name. "You alright?"
"Yes, sir."
Face blushed as he sat up.
"Bad dream?"
"Yes, sir."
"You want to talk about it?"
"No, sir."
Hannibal couldn't help but smile as he watched the boy rub
his eyes with the back of his hand, his blond hair falling back down into his
face as soon as he was finished. Slowly, so as not to spook the child, he
reached out his hand, gently brushing back the hair that had fallen over the
bright eyes.
"You need a haircut, kid."
"Momma said I look better
with it long." Face smiled for a brief moment, then it was gone.
"It is a little shaggy though," Hannibal observed
as the hair he had just pushed back fell back down over the boy's eyes.
"Dad always said I look like a girl." Shaking his
head, Face sighed heavily, his eyes filling with sorrow. "Told momma I was going to be one of 'those people'".
"What people, kid?" asked Hannibal, although he
had a damn good idea what Face meant.
"He would tell her I'd make someone a great bitch someda…". Face quickly
covered his mouth with his hands as he realized he had said a word his mother
had told him never to repeat to anyone.
It was one of those words that would guarantee a beating
from his father, even if that was where he heard it.
"Sorry."
Face lowered his head, turning away as the tears began to
build in his eyes. He had messed up again. He knew what was coming next; this
man was going to beat him for using a bad word then he would take him back to
the place with all the other kids.
"Hey now, what's all this
about?" Hannibal asked softly as he reached over to the boy, gently
picking him up and carrying him back to the bed where he place the small child
in his lap. "What's with the tears?"
Templeton turned away so Hannibal couldn't see his face,
refusing to look at the silver-haired man for fear of what he might find in the
gentle blue eyes. He had just met this man yesterday and yet the thought of
disappointing him tore at his heart.
"Look at me," Hannibal urged.
Face shook his head, sending the hair back over his eyes.
He was in trouble, there was no use having to see the disappointment the other
man must be feeling too.
"Templeton, look at me," Hannibal commanded
softly as he reached down to cup the boy's face in his hand, forcing Face to
look up at him. He felt the boy cringe back as if waiting for a blow.
"I want you to listen to me because we need to set
some things straight right here and now. First off, I love you, kid, and will
never hit you. If you make a mistake then we'll work it out, but you never have
to be scared of me. I don't ever want you to be afraid of me."
Hannibal reached down to push the hair back off Face's
forehead so he could see the boy better.
"Second, you never have to worry about your father
again; you will be staying with me from now on. As of yesterday when I picked
you up from that orphanage you became my son, not his, and I will never, never
send you away."
He watched Face closely, making sure his words were
registering; he knew he was getting through to the boy as he watched tears pool
in the boy's eyes and spill down his cheeks.
"Third, your father had no right to say anything like
that to you, it was wrong and mean."
Gently he wiped the tears off the boy's cheeks with his
hand.
"Now, lastly, I don't approve of you using that sort
of language and I don't want to hear it coming out of your mouth again. Do you
understand?"
"Yes sir," Face answered, his face full of hope
as the older man's words registered.
"Good. Now, lets get you back to bed."
Once the boy was tucked back in under the covers, Hannibal
stood up to leave when he felt a gentle touch on his hand. Turning back around,
he saw that the lost look was back in the boy's face.
"You need something, Tem?"
The boy looked at him for a minute then shook his head as
he turned over on his side to face away from the older man.
"Come on, you can sleep with me tonight."
Hannibal sighed softly as he bent over to pick Face up in
his arms. There was one thing the boy was going to have to lean and that was
that Hannibal had seen all his body language and facial expressions
before.
When Face was tucked back in again, he laid down beside
him.
"Good night, kid."
"Night, sir."
When Hannibal woke the next morning he was surprised to
find Face curled into his side, his head resting on his shoulder and his small
hand resting on his chest.
'I guess some things never change,' he thought as he
reached over to stroke the hair out of the boy's face.
"Hey Tem, you going to sleep all day?"
He watched as the boy opened his eyes. At first he could
see the fear in them, but as the boy looked up at him the fear disappeared and
he was rewarded with a slight smile.
"Morning, sleepyhead."
"Morning, sir."
"Tem, you don't have to call me 'sir'."
"My dad always made me say 'sir'."
"I told you last night, he's not your father anymore.
I am and you don't have to call me 'sir'."
"What do I call you?"
"You can call me 'Hannibal', 'Colonel', 'John',
'Johnnie'," Hannibal paused for a second, "Or 'dad' if you
want."
Face studied him closely for a moment.
"I can call you by your name?"
"If that's what your comfortable with."
"I like 'Han' bal'."
"Then 'Hannibal' it is."
He chuckled softly. "Now lets get you dressed, fed and
take you shopping for some new clothes."
Hannibal reached down and ruffled Face's hair, sending the
shaggy mop in every direction.
"And a haircut wouldn't hurt either." He laughed
again as the boy reached up with his small hands, trying without much success
to coax his hair back into place.
************************************************************************
The two walked down the street to a small diner for
breakfast. Hannibal finished eating then sat back to enjoy his second cup of
coffee while he watched Face eat.
At first the boy had been hesitant about eating; when he
was asked what he wanted, he had only shrugged his shoulders and looked out the
window. Hannibal sat back, trying to think of something that Face liked when he
came to the conclusion that the only thing that his lover had in the morning
was coffee and maybe a piece of toast.
"Come on, kid, there has to be something you
like."
Face shrugged as he continued to stare out the window.
"Anything you want to try?"
Another shrug was his only answer.
"Didn't your mother ever feed you breakfast?"
Hannibal asked with a smile which quickly faded when he saw the pained
expression in the boy's eyes.
"When she could," Face answered, softly.
"Sometimes she didn't have anything to give me, sometimes dad wouldn't let
her give me anything, said I'd just waste it."
Hannibal closed his eyes so the boy wouldn't see the anger
in them, as he seethed inwardly at this further injustice the boy had suffered.
"Templeton," he said softly, to make the boy look
at him. "Are you hungry?"
"Yes," the boy answered quietly.
"Then order what you want."
"I don't know what to get."
"I'll tell you what, we'll start today with pancakes,
then tomorrow we'll try something else. Once we get through with the whole
menu, then you can decide what you want from then on. How does that sound to
you?"
"'Kay."
************************************************************************
"Sir?"
Hannibal snapped out of his daydream at the soft voice.
"Han' bal, you okay?"
"I'm fine, kid, you still hungry? Do you want anything
else?"
"No sir, I didn't finish this, sorry."
Hannibal looked down at the plate, noticing that half of
its contents were gone. This was a pretty amazing feat for such a small boy,
considering the waitress had piled the plate sky high.
"What are you sorry about?" Hannibal asked.
"Not finishing, I shouldn't waste it."
"Come here, kid." Hannibal motioned for Face to come
over and sit next to him.
Slowly, the boy slid out of his side of the booth and
Hannibal noted that the fear was back in his eyes as he came to stand in front
of him. Scooting over, he motioned the boy to sit next to him. Once Face was
seated, he wrapped his arm over the boy's shoulders, giving him a reassuring
hug as he spoke.
"I'll let you in on a little secret." Hannibal
looked around as if to check to see if anyone may be watching or listening.
"They'll make more, so if you don't finish it, it won't be the end of the
world." With that he reached up to
the top of Face's head and ruffled his hair again.
As he looked down at the boy he was rewarded by yet another
faint smile as Face reached up to put it back to rights.
'That's it, kid, I'll have you laughing before too much
longer,' Hannibal thought as he smiled down at the boy.
A short time later, Hannibal watched as Face came out of
the department store dressing room for the umpteenth time, this time wearing a
pair of khaki pants and a light-blue button-down shirt.
"Nice," Hannibal said with an approving smile as
he watched the boy come toward him.
"You like those Tem?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good, we'll take three pairs of these pants and I
also want three pairs in navy, black and white. We also need three of those
shirts, in every color you've got except red, the color washes him out,"
Hannibal told the sales lady, whose arms were already overloaded with items the
colonel had already picked out. "Alright, kid, lets find you a few pairs
of shoes, and then I believe you'll be set."
"Sir, the shoe department is upstairs so if you would
like I can let them know you're coming so they can choose a few pairs that will
go with what you've already picked out," offered the sales lady.
"Thank you, " Hannibal smiled at the older woman.
"Tem, lets go look at some shoes."
The boy nodded, turning to head back toward the dressing
room to change back into the clothes he had been given at the orphanage when he
was stopped by a gentle touch on his shoulder.
"Miss, there wouldn't be any problem if he wore these
up to the shoe department, would there?"
"No, sir, not at all," confirmed the sales clerk
with a bright smile to Hannibal.
Face looked up as the older man took his small hand in his
and the lady continued to smile at him as they walked toward the elevator to go
to the second floor.
She was smiling, sure, but Face wasn't fooled. He had seen
the look in her eyes when they had came into the department store. Yeah, she
had smiled when she saw Mr. Smith, but that smile quickly left her face when
she saw him. He could see the contempt in her eyes, he knew he wasn't supposed
to be in places like this, but what was he supposed to do, this is where Mr.
Smith wanted to go.
"She sure was full of herself, wasn't she?"
Hannibal remarked as they got out of the older woman's hearing. "I know
what it is, I should have been wearing a tie. You think that's it, Tem?"
Instead of getting the laugh he had hoped for, the boy only
dropped his eyes and shook his head.
"I'm not good enough for places like this. She knows
I'm not supposed to be here."
'Damn, Face, not even six and you've got the lowest
self-confidence level of anyone I know.'
"You belong anywhere you want and don't ever let
others make you think that you don't, got it?" stated Hannibal firmly,
then squeezed the boy's hand gently.
"Yes, sir," Face answered, even though he knew it
wasn't true.
*********************************************************************
"Just one more stop, then we'll go home, I
promise." Hannibal smiled at Face as he watched the boy fight back yet
another yawn.
The two had started on their adventure at 7:00 that
morning; now it was well past 4:00 in the afternoon and the boy was showing
clear signs of fatigue.
The two had only stopped once, in order to have lunch,
during their mammoth-shopping spree which had included everything from an
entire wardrobe for Face to a new car for Hannibal to carry everything in.
"I'm okay," the boy said wearily, before quickly
covering his mouth with his hand as he yawned again.
"You wouldn't be the least bit tired?"
"No, sir."
"Uh huh,"
said Hannibal, with a glance over at the boy who was rubbing his eyes
with the back of his hands.
Fifteen minutes later Hannibal pulled up in front of a
barbershop.
"Alright, here we are."
Face looked out of the car window then quickly turned to
look at Hannibal as he got out of the car. He didn't want to get his hair cut;
he knew that all the boys were wearing theirs in flat tops, but he didn't want
his hair like that. His mother had always fought to keep his hair longer and
even when his father would threaten her, she wouldn't back down.
Now here he was at a barbershop with Mr. Smith, and he just
knew he was going to get his hair cut in a military flat top.
"Come on, kid," Hannibal urged with a smile as
Face climbed slowly out of the car.
"Afternoon, gentlemen, what can we do for you? No,
wait a minute, let me guess - the boy needs a good trim," laughed the
dark-haired barber as the pair walked into the shop.
"Come on, son, hop up, no waiting." He motioned
Face over to his chair.
Hannibal watched as the boy climbed up into the chair. He
was about to tell the barber how he wanted it when a second barber interrupted him.
"What about you, sir, how about a touch up?"
"I'm fine, I just…," Hannibal quickly broke off
and spun around when he heard electric clippers come to life. Moving as quickly
as he could, he grabbed hold of the barber's wrist just as he was about to put
the clippers in Face's hair.
"Just trim it up out of his eyes, no clippers,"
Hannibal ordered.
"Are you sure, sir? The flat top is really popular
among the kids," queried the barber.
"His mother liked it longer, he likes it longer and I
like it longer. So just trim it up out of his eyes please," Hannibal said
firmly as he let go of the other man's wrist.
"Whatever you want, mister, he's your son." The
barber put down the clippers and picked up a pair of scissors and a comb.
"How does that look, mister?" the barber asked
once he'd finished, turning Face around so Hannibal could see him.
"Nice," Hannibal said with a bright smile as he
ran a hand through the soft hair, brushing it back off the boy's forehead.
"Come on, kid, let's go get dinner."
######################################################################
Hannibal looked down at the boy sleeping on his chest. He
had put Face to bed several hours ago, only to have to go in and wake him up
from another nightmare. Once again, he had carried the child into his own room
and put him in the bed with him.
As he stroked the blond hair, Hannibal thought about his
next move; he had sent a letter to Chicago the same day he had picked Face up
from the orphanage. Now he felt it was time to head in that direction.
######################################################################
Mrs. Baracus looked at the letter
in her hand for the 100th time. She still couldn't believe what it
was telling her, even as she read it again. Looking over at her son, she put it
back in her pocket. If the letter was genuine, then her prayers had been
answered; if it was a joke, then it was a cruel one.
"Scooter, why don't you go outside and play,
baby."
She watched as her boy turned to look up at her from the
small radio he was taking apart. His big brown eyes were so sad she felt like
crying.
"I don't want to, momma."
Mrs. Baracus sighed; she knew
that she should send the boy outside to get some fresh air but her heart just
wasn't in it. She also knew that she was going to have to pull herself together
and be the boy's mother and father, but not right now. Right now, she just
smiled at him, "Alright, scooter, alright."
Later that night Mrs. Baracus
looked at the wall clock when she heard the knock on the door. 'Who on earth
could be visiting at this hour? 10:30 at night, it better be darn important,'
she grumbled to herself as she went to the front door.
"Momma, don't answer that,
it could be a robber," her son called out from the doorway of his room.
"Scooter, if they're looking to rob someone, they sure
came to the wrong apartment," Mrs. Baracus
reassured him with a laugh. "Now, go back to bed."
Ignoring his mother, the young BA walked up behind her as
she opened the door. To their surprise, a tall white man with silver hair
holding a sleeping blond-haired boy in his arms was stood there.
"Mrs. Baracus?"
"Yes."
"I'm John Smith, I sent you a letter a week ago. Did
you receive it?"
"Yes, Mr. Smith, I did," Mrs. Baracus
answered, while still blocking the door.
"I'm sorry for arriving at such a late hour but I was
hoping we could discuss what I had written you."
"Mr. Smith, if this is some kind of joke…,"
threatened Mrs. Baracus, her voice rising as she
pulled the letter out of her apron pocket.
"No, ma'am, it's no joke," Hannibal reassured
her, " and if you would be willing to hear what I have to say, then you
can make up your own mind."
"Han' bal, cold," Face
mumbled into Hannibal's shoulder as he wrapped his
arms more securely around the older man's neck.
"Good Lord, come in or the poor thing will freeze out
in the hall," exclaimed Mrs. Baracus,
stepping back out of the doorway as she noted the little boy in the man's arms.
"You should be ashamed of yourself, bringing such a little thing out this
late at night," she scolded.
"We just got into town a little while ago, I was going
to wait until morning but I was afraid I might miss you," answered
Hannibal.
"Have a seat, Mr. Smith, would you like something to
drink?"
"No, thank you, I'm fine."
"If you like, you can put the boy in my bedroom while
we talk."
Mrs. Baracus watched as Mr. Smith
smiled down at the boy in his arms, reached out and stroked the hair that had
fallen into the child's eyes.
"He's fine. If you like, we can come back
tomorrow."
"You're here now so we might as well get it over
with."
"Alright, as I stated in my letter to you your husband
came to my aid several years back when I was on a business trip here in
Chicago. I honestly believe that if it hadn't been for your husband, I would
have been killed. When I tried to repay him he refused, telling me that is what
people do - they help each other."
Mrs. Baracus smiled; that sure
sounded like her husband alright.
"That is well and fine, Mr. Smith, but what does that
have to do with me?" she asked suspiciously, her smile fading.
"I would like a chance to repay that debt."
"I won't take the money you offered me either,"
stated Mrs. Baracus firmly.
"I understand, however I do have something I would
like you to think over. I need some help taking care of my son."
"What are you suggesting?"
"I would like a chance to pay your husband back for
his act of kindness and to help you and your son while helping my son at the
same time." Hannibal waited a moment to see if the woman would listen
further or just throw him out now.
"Go on, Mr. Smith. "
"I know that since your husband died you're not in the
best financial shape."
'Boy, he can say that again,' BA thought as he moved a
little farther into the room.
"Scooter, you might as well come on in here instead of
trying to hide in the corner," Mrs. Baracus
called out.
"Yes, momma." BA slowly
crossed the room, never taking his eyes off Hannibal as he went to sit down
next to his mother on the couch.
"Mr. Smith, this is my son Bosco."
"Hello, " said Hannibal, offering his hand to BA.
At first the young teen just looked at him then slowly
reached out to shake hands with the older man.
"Hi."
Once the introduction was over with, Hannibal got back down
to business.
"I know you don't want to take any money from me.
However, I would like to give you one hundred thousand dollars to do with as
you please." Hannibal held up his hand as he could see that the woman was
about to interrupt him. "Think of it as security in case what I have
planned doesn't work out, and you and your son want to move back to
Chicago."
"Move back?"
"I would like for you and your son to move to
California with me. As I said, I know I'm going to need help raising Templeton.
I can cook, but I'm not the greatest housekeeper and to be honest, kids,
especially boys, need a positive female role model in their lives."
"California?" BA
whispered.
"Just outside of LA. I haven't bought the house yet,
but I was thinking about something on the beach," Hannibal explained to BA
with a smile, remembering all the times the team had gone to the beach
together.
"By the ocean?"
"Right on it."
"Mr. Smith, you don't even know me," protested
Mrs. B, bringing them both back to reality.
"I knew your husband, and I believe you're the same
type of kind and caring person as he was."
"That's my momma
alright." BA fluffed up with pride.
"I don't know, Mr. Smith, I really need to think about
this."
"The beach, momma," BA
whispered.
"Hush," she scolded him though her eyes were
still soft and full of love.
"I understand that I've piled a lot on your shoulders,
so please take your time. I don't want you jumping into anything until you've
thought it through," Hannibal said, seeing her obvious indecision.
Slowly he rose so as not to disturb the boy in his arms.
"I'll call you with the hotel number once we check in. That way, you can
let me know your decision one way or the other."
"You don't have a hotel for tonight?"
"No, ma'am, we came straight here."
"You can't take that poor child out in the cold this
late at night," Mrs. B stated firmly.
"I promise I'll put him straight to bed once we get a
hotel room."
Closing her eyes, Mrs. Baracus
made her first major decision toward her and BA's new life. 'Lord, please watch
over us fools,' she prayed silently, as she looked the silver-haired man
directly in the eyes.
"You can put him in the bedroom with Scooter, they can
share his bed, I'll get you some blankets and you can take the couch."
"Mrs. Baracus, I don't want
to put…"
"You ain't putting nobody
out; if we are going to get to know each other we might as well start right
here and now." With that, Mrs. Baracus went to
the hall closet and pulled out several blankets and a pillow.
"Are you sure about this?" asked Hannibal.
"If I wasn't, I wouldn't have offered."
########################################################################
3:30am
"No please sir no! Momma!
Please, no, I'll be good!"
Mrs. Baracus jumped out of bed
when she heard a child scream, her first thought being of her own son and the
strange man in her apartment. She had just entered the bedroom when Mr. Smith
quickly pushed past her. Swiftly scanning the room, she noticed her own son sitting
up in the bed, confused but safe.
Then she noticed that the little blond-haired child was
curled up in the corner, shaking with fear, his bright blue-green eyes
searching the room for signs of danger.
"Tem, come on kid, you're alright, no one is going to
hurt you."
Mrs. Baracus watched as Mr. Smith
knelt down in front of the boy, his hands held out in a non-threatening manner.
"Han' bal," the boy
cried out as he threw himself into the man's arms, burying his head in his
chest.
"It's alright, kid, I've got you, you're safe,"
Hannibal whispered into the golden hair. Kissing the boy softly on the
forehead, he then turned to look at the other two occupants of the room.
"I'm sorry, I didn't think he would have a nightmare with it being so late
when he went to sleep," Hannibal apologized, as he gently began to rub
Face's back to try to ease the tension in the small body.
Mrs. Baracus watched as the boy
clung to his father, his head still buried in his father's chest as small sobs
racked his thin body.
"Come on into the kitchen. I'll fix him a glass of
warm milk to help him get back to sleep."
"Momma?"
"You too, Scooter," she said with a smile for her
own son.
The four made their way into the kitchen where Mrs. Baracus made them all sit down at the table while she
heated up some milk in a pot on the stove. She glanced over at the table,
noting that the boy still had his face buried in his father's chest.
When the milk was warm, she poured some into two mugs for
the boys before carrying these to the table.
"Here you go, Scooter."
She placed a mug in front of BA then set the other one on
the table in front of Hannibal.
"Tem, come on," Hannibal urged, encouraging the
boy to sit up.
"Come on, baby, it'll help you feel better." Mrs.
B reached over gently and touched the boy's back.
To her surprise, the boy gasped as if in pain and clung
even tighter to his father. Quickly she removed her hand and looked up at the
Mr. Smith.
"Tem, it's alright, no one is going to hurt you, you're safe. Come on, kid."
Slowly the boy began to straighten up, his eyes quickly
scanning the room looking for any sign of danger.
Hannibal noted the fear in the child; gently he reached
down to take the boy's face in his hand so that Face was forced to look up at
him.
"I'm not going to let anyone hurt you," Hannibal
reassured the child. Reaching over, he picked the cup up to give to Face,
noticing the tremble in the small hands as he held the cup to his lips.
"Go on, kid, Mrs. Baracus is right, it'll make
you feel better."
Mrs. B watched the interaction between the two with a keen
eye. Never in her life had she seen a boy this terrified but she had also never
seen a father this loving toward his child. Not that BA's dad had been a bad
father, it was just that most men left the comforting to the mother.
Moving back to the counter top, she took two oatmeal
cookies out of the cookie jar and handed one to BA then turned to Face.
"Would you like a cookie?" she asked Face with a
kind smile.
Face turned to look up at Hannibal, his eyes asking for
permission.
"Don't look at me," Hannibal laughed softly.
"It's up to you if you want it or not."
"Please, Mrs. Baracus."
Mrs. B smiled as she handed him the cookie. The boy was
quick, she realized, as he had already picked up on her name.
"Aren't you a sweet little thing, so polite. You can
call me 'momma' if you want, all the children around
here do."
She watched the boy's face cloud over with pain and hurt,
tears filling his eyes. Putting the cookie down on the table he buried his head
in his father's shoulder and cried.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset him," she
apologized, looking up at Hannibal.
"It's not your fault, he just lost his mother."
"Oh baby. I'm so sorry." Mrs. Baracus
reached over to the boy and gently rubbed his back as Hannibal whispered words
of encouragement in his ear.
BA watched the adults comfort the blond-haired boy; he
really felt sorry for the kid. Sure, he had just lost his own dad a few months
earlier but he was a ten and could look after himself and his momma, but for a little kid, boy, that had to be tough.
He decided there and then that if his momma
decided to move to California with the Smiths, then he would do everything to
protect the smaller boy. He smiled at the thought of having a 'little brother'
to look after.
Half an hour later BA was back asleep in his own bed while
Hannibal sat on the couch with Mrs. Baracus. Face was
stretched out between them, using Hannibal's thigh as
a pillow.
"Does he always have such bad nightmares?" asked
Mrs. Baracus curiously.
"He's had one every night since I brought him home.
It's gotten to the point where I let him sleep with me so I can wake him as
soon as they start."
"Brought him home? I thought he was your son?"
"He is, but I'm not his biological father."
Taking a deep breath, Hannibal told Mrs. B Face's story, and how the boy came
to be at the orphanage. "I've always wanted a son, and I chose
Templeton."
"The poor baby." Mrs. Baracus
looked down at the sleeping boy, her maternal instincts coming forward. How
could anyone hurt such a little angel, she thought as she reached over to tuck
the blanket in more securely around the thin frame of the boy.
"You're a kind man, Mr. Smith, not too many people
would take on a child with so much baggage."
"I've loved him from the first moment I laid eyes on
him." Hannibal thought back to the first time he saw Face get off the
slick in Viet Nam. "And I don't care what
baggage he brings with him." He reached down to run his fingers through
the boy's hair.
"I want a chance to talk to Scooter to see how he
feels about all of this, but if he decides that he would like to go to
California then we'll go."
"Thank you, Mrs. Baracus."
"Call me 'Mrs. B'. I'd say call me 'Momma', but I don't want to upset the little angel,"
she said with a smile at Face. "'Mrs. Baracus'
makes me feel so old."
"Only if you'll call me 'Hannibal'," replied the
colonel with a smile.
"And just what else would I call you?"
Face's voice came from Mrs. B's
mouth.
"Face?"
"You're dreaming again!" Hannibal jumped when he
felt a sharp poke in the ribs. "And if you don't quit talking in your
sleep, you can start sleeping in the other room."
Opening his eyes, Hannibal looked over at his annoyed
lover, blond hair falling down over his forehead, his normally bright
blue-green eyes dulled with sleep.
"Sorry, kid," he smiled down at the annoyed face
looking back up at him.
"You really will be sorry the next time you wake me up
in the middle of the night," Face grumbled as he turned his back to
Hannibal.
The older man looked at his young lover and a smile slowly
spread across his lips.
Face was just beginning to drift back off to sleep when he
felt a pair of strong hands grab hold of him. He started to jump out of the
bed, but was quickly flipped over on to his back.
Before he could protest, Hannibal straddled his waist and
pinned his arms above his head. As soon as Face opened his mouth to ask just
what the hell Hannibal thought he was doing, the colonel covered his mouth with
his own, forcing his tongue between Face's lips.
When Hannibal finally broke off the intense kiss, Face was
panting for breath.
"Who's going to be sorry, Lieutenant?" enquired
Hannibal silkily, raising an eyebrow.
"Not you, sir," Face panted.
"Damn right, not me." Hannibal leaned back over
to recapture Face's mouth.