A/N:Hello all my friends! After a tediously long wait, I finally present to you the final chapter. Thank you all for your support and reviews! I know I'm not the best at replying, but please know that each and every review brings a spark of happiness to my day. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Alas. Do not own.

Hannibal pt 4
Family
StriderX

The little white house, Hannibal found, was exactly what he'd expect Maggie's home to be. He'd been in it before when B.A. had been shot, but he'd never really taken the time to look around. Now, at that crystal moment after a close bout with death, he couldn't get enough of every detail in sight.

She was meticulously clean and organized; the shelves were uncluttered and shining with polish. From what he could tell while standing in the hallway opening to a quant living room, she didn't keep many personal things; a photograph here, a figurine there. He imagined the combination of Doctor and military Captain had had a hand in influencing that.

Most all of the magazines and books lying on tables and shelves were identical to those in any doctor's office. Briefly, he wondered what it would be like to have your home double as a hospital…when he remembered the sincerity on her face the moment he woke, he realized she wouldn't have it any other way.

From the immediate view, the boys were nowhere in sight; he could hear them though—B.A. must've been causing the incessant banging from out front and Murdock could be the only culprit behind the clanging pans and operatic singing from the kitchen.

Shaking his head, Hannibal decided he needed a laugh. Following the surprisingly well-tuned voice, he made his way through the living room, dining room, and stopped, hovering at the threshold of the small country kitchen.

To his pain-weary heart's content, the sight that met him brought a grin so big he couldn't help laughing.

There, in the tiny kitchen, was Murdock, covered in flour with a colander on his head and a wooden spoon in his hand, singing and dancing like a man reliving his childhood. Everything was coated with the fine white power; the counters and floor near the oven seemed to have suffered the worst.

When the Captain caught sight of his Colonel watching his performance, the note on his lips flew up to a loud and giggling greeting. "Colonel!" still with his metal-hat and wooden sword, Murdock stood guarding view to the oven with the biggest of grins. "How you feelin'?"

Hannibal had to admit, Murdock's good mood was contagious. "Much better…what are you doing?" he was leaning on the doorframe with his good shoulder taking the weight; a posture Murdock knew meant the Colonel was amused.

Practically exploding with excitement, Murdock jumped aside and threw up his spoon in a wild introduction. "Tada!"

And there, amidst the carnage of flour and egg shells, was a spotless cookie sheet slowly cooling on the stove. Hannibal's grin fell just a little, but not in hurt or disappointment.

In the center of that beat-up old pan was a giant, perfect-circle cookie with 'Get well soon Hannibal!' spelled out in chocolate chips.

It was a little known secret between the Team that Hannibal couldn't resist a good chocolate chip cookie.

And right then, that singular cookie threatened to get him teary.

Easily noticing, Murdock deterred. "I figured you'd be needin' ta' build your strength back up, y-you know…after everything."

When Hannibal's eyes drifted upward, something clicked like an epiphany at 3am: a sudden memory of a dream not really a dream.

"Anytime you uh, feel like wakin' up would be great, though…we're um…"the voice drawled in a sadness that broke his heart. "We can't do this wi-without you…"

Hannibal stared at Murdock like the boy'd just saved the entire army. That cookie…it was more than just a well-wish or a sweet treat; that cookie was Murdock's heart and soul, filled with all the words he just couldn't say.

Slowly moving forward, mildly aware of the oddity of what he was about do to, Hannibal opened his uninjured arm and took the Captain in a warm hug hardly cautious of his wound.

Soon as the shock wore off, Murdock enveloped Hannibal in his lanky arms like a promise.

"Don't worry, Murdock," Hannibal finally ventured through the embrace. "There's a lot more life in me yet. I'd never leave you boys."

Murdock pulled away, suddenly rather serious. The colander shifted crookedly atop his hair and flour snowed like rain as he shook his head. "Promise you'll never get hurt again," Murdock knew such a thing was impossible even as he said it.

So did Hannibal. "I promise."

With a smirk, Murdock straightened his helmet and chuckled lightly at the mumbled curse wafting through the house from the open living room windows. "The big guy's been fixin' anything he can find…wan'na piece of cookie for the road?"

Wordlessly, Hannibal nodded and watched the crazy man gingerly cut the giant cookie into six perfect pieces. Carefully, he placed the piece with the most chocolate (part of the 'Hannibal' word) on a napkin and handed it to the man-in-honor.

Hannibal took it happily and smirked. "Thanks Murdock,"

"Anytime, Colonel."

There was so much more in that short reply then either of them could ever express.

Savoring the decadent cookie-slice, Hannibal drifted back through the dining room and out the front screen door. The racket outside was deafening compared to the (relative) quiet inside. Just to his left, he saw B.A. leaning awkwardly on a step-ladder while balancing a piece of gutter in one hand and hammer in the other.

Suddenly Hannibal wondered how he could approach the big man without startling him off the precarious perch. Fortunately he didn't have to worry long before B.A.'s peripheral vision kicked in.

"Hannibal!" he shouted with a rare grin. "You up!"

"And it feels wonderful," Hannibal quipped, matching B.A.'s grin with only slight difficulty. It was true, being up and about really did feel fantastic, but his body was still so weak; he knew he wouldn't last much longer standing. Still, he had a duty to attend to.

B.A. leapt from the ladder and dropped the gutter piece and hammer on the ground. "Man, I knew there was a reason the fool stopped squealin'! How ya' feelin', man?"

Carefully, Hannibal tried for nonchalance as he leaned back on the house. "Better then two days ago, that's for sure."

B.A. frowned.

Hannibal had a feeling it was coming. If Murdock felt it, chances were B.A. did too. He remembered the low, wary voice. "You our Colonel. We ain't a team wit'out you…Our family ain't right wit' you hurt."

"That was some scary mess, Hannibal."

The open confession caught Hannibal by surprise. It wasn't as if he'd never been hurt before, after all. There were times he found himself knocking on heaven's door back in 'Nam; they'd watched him battle back to life back then…was now really so different?

But Hannibal knew it was. Back then they'd been a team. Now they were a family. Big difference.

Hannibal struggled with the best way to respond. "B.A., did you willingly get into that chopper for me? With Murdock flying?"

B.A. nodded with a sad chuckle. "'Course, man. Ain't no fear more important than your life, Hannibal."

Feeling that old mist cloud his eyes again, Hannibal set the remainder of his cookie on the porch railing and reached out to grasp B.A.'s arm. "Thank you, Sergeant."

Mimicking Hannibal's action, B.A. grasped Hannibal's good arm, creating a locking bond between them; a promise between two men. "I'm glad you back, man…we all are."

The moment sank between them a long time before Hannibal pulled away and fetched his cookie. B.A. rolled his eyes when he saw it, but didn't say a word. He knew, just as well as Hannibal did.

Deeply, Hannibal sighed; exhaustion was creeping up on him like leech in July. Still, he couldn't fade just yet. There was one more…

"Where's Face?" he'd meant to lighten the question when he thought it, but it came out anxious, almost grave. Hannibal couldn't tell if it was his weakness or deep-set concern that parted his lips in such a way, but B.A. didn't seem surprised.

Shaking his head a little, the big man sighed. "He's been out back a while now. You know how 'e gets when he's worried…real quiet."

Hannibal nodded. So his concern was founded; he might've briefly forgotten Murdock's and B.A.'s pleas, but he was sure Face's would haunt him for the rest of his days.

"Why…didn't you say anything?"

As Hannibal moved back through the house, Face's broken whisper echoed through his head…the words he wasn't meant to hear; the words he needed to hear.

"I…we…I can't lose you, Hannibal…w-without you…"

He'd been trying not to think about it, but now that he was faced with it, Hannibal's heart tore as he remembered the wrenching crack in the boy's tone.

Through the living room, he found the sliding-glass door to the small patio. Almost afraid to peak through, he forced his eyes forward.

What met him was a young man bent over in a chair, staring numbly at the world and all its misfortune. He looked so much older than he was; so much sadder. From behind, Hannibal caught the slow waft of grey twisting in front him.

Face was smoking.

That alone was enough to tell Hannibal something was wrong; Face hated to smoke.

Good arm grasping the door handle, he slid the glass on its tracks and slipped out through the gap. He knew Face heard him when he pulled the door closed behind him; the Lieutenant didn't move, but the break in smoke trail betrayed the hitched breath.

Cautiously, Hannibal inched forward until he was just behind him, a little off to the side. The kid's eyes were dull and glassed; the deep shadows underlining them made Hannibal wonder if Face had slept at all since they got there. He was hunched over in the chair, elbows digging into his knees, as he puffed deeply from a shortening cigar. Hannibal smirked a little. He recognized the scent instantly as one of his own.

Over skin slightly too pale (for a man tanned cinnamon) Hannibal noticed the tailored shirt carelessly left undone around Face's neck; his hair was lacking its usual shine and just barely out of place.

A long minute drifted by until Face moved; he was like a statue lost in time. When he turned to face Hannibal, it was similar to watching a man break out of a deep memory back to reality. Right then, it became surprisingly apparent to Hannibal that Face had had no idea he was standing there.

"Hannibal!" the kid cried, shooting up with his biggest grin. "You-you're up!"

Hannibal chuckled a little at the Lieutenant's enthusiasm. If the cigar hadn't been between Face's fingers when he jumped, Hannibal was sure they'd have a small fire to put out right then.

From the rare, unclouded adoration and relief coating Face's features, Hannibal could see him fighting against the inward urge to lunge into a bear-crushing embrace that would've made Murdock proud. With his shoulder throbbing, Hannibal was thrilled the kid had more self-control then the Captain. Still…he couldn't just deny the moment.

"Good to see you, kid," he smiled warmly and opened his free arm for a welcoming, gentle hug.

It took all Face had to restrain himself to a slight, one-armed embrace. Hannibal was really alright! Standing right there! Alive!

Hannibal, of course, saw right through Face's grins and nervous chuckles. There was no doubt that the kid was thrilled to see him up, but the joy in his grin…it was as fake as his liking of cigar smoke in his mouth.

"You're smoking?" Hannibal broke the silence while stiffly lowering himself into the chair just next to that which Face had made home.

Flashing a shy smirk, Face sat next to Hannibal; he'd been rolling the cigar between his fingers. "Yeah…you want one?" without waiting for the obvious reply, Face reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a fresh cigar and matchbox.

Hannibal gladly accepted; the puff of brume that filled his senses as Face's match caught fire brought a surging peace over him. Maybe now he could finally think clearly. Despite the sharp ting in his chest, Hannibal sighed long and deep. "Yeah…that's the stuff."

Face had yet to place his cigar back in his mouth. Now that Hannibal was right there, the soothing smoke puffing through the air in time with his breath…Face didn't need to smoke anymore. The hole that had settled in around him without Hannibal's thick scent was finally filled again.

Discretely, Face smudged out the smoke in the dirt just at the edge of his reach. He figured, maybe if he just let his arm down and didn't move, maybe Hannibal wouldn't notice…

"You never did like the taste, did you?" Hannibal's light chuckle nearly made Face jump. His mind was such a fog. So much had happened…his thoughts had been like a tornado all week. Could he really hide it anymore?

With nothing left in him, Face snorted a laugh. "No."

When Face's eyes peered into Hannibal's, the older man felt a rush of guilt flood his heart. All his boys showed their worry and affections in different ways. Face…he was silent about his heart, but his eyes were hollow and open to Hannibal.

"You're the only father I've ever had…"

Hannibal knew there was no way around it. He was going to have to just come out and say it. "Listen, Face…son…I'm real proud of how you handled this whole mess. It was an um…good command, Lieutenant," Hannibal cursed himself for his words before they even finished coming out.

Face nodded stiffly; clearly he'd been hoping for more too.

Sighing, Hannibal took the cigar from between his lips. "What I'm trying to say," he started again, eyes never leaving the boy he'd grown so close to. "Thank you, Face," Hannibal noted the confused freeze on Face's features. "You saved my life back there."

Suddenly, Face's gaze shifted down and he shrugged. "It was a group effort. Besides…it never should've happened in the first place," this last part was muttered so quietly Hannibal almost missed it.

Sighing, Hannibal set the cigar in his slung hand and placed his moveable hand on Face's knee. He could feel the kid trembling under his grasp. It was the unavoidable effect of nerves in his youngest. No matter what, good or bad, Face could hide any emotion as long as you didn't touch him.

"Face," when the Lieutenant didn't respond, Hannibal tried again. "Thing's happen…we all know that. It's not your fault, or anybody's. It just happened."

Shaking his head, Face still couldn't meet Hannibal's gaze.

Hannibal could see the boy's walls crumbling down with every second.

"Not to you…" the kid murmured, helplessly.

"Even to me."

This got Face's attention. Pulling his head up, he met Hannibal's eyes with shimmering pools filled with stubborn tears. There was so much he wanted to say; needed to say. But… "Hannibal I…"the words died on his tongue before he could even think them.

Squeezing his knee, Hannibal smiled softly; secretly, he willed his eyes to stay dry and clear as he spoke. "I know kid. Thing you got'ta realize is, I may be the only father you've ever had, but you boys…you're the only sons I will ever have."

Face's jaw hung open like a broken puppet. "You…you heard?"

Hannibal nodded. The hand that had been around Face's knee moved up around the kid's shoulders. There was a little space between their chairs, but not nearly enough to keep Face from inadvertently leaning into Hannibal's grasp. "We're a family, son. A mighty strange one, but the closest any of us will ever get. I'm not about to leave it any time soon."

His lips tilting up with warmth, Face wiped at his eyes with a shaking hand. "That's good," he laughed out in a poorly hidden choke. "'cuz I really can't stand your cigars."

Beaming, Hannibal laughed as heartily as a man without a pain in the world. What pain could possibly dampen the love of a father for his sons?

End

A/N:A huge thank you again to everyone who took the time to read! I hope you've enjoyed it :) Till next time,

~Strider