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This page last viewed: 2017-11-21 and has been viewed 1400 times

Summary: Face is waiting

Waiting

By LizM

 

Rated: PG

Summary: Face is waiting.

Warnings: Pre-slash, One bad word, unbetaed

Notes: Companion piece to "Three Steps". Face POV.

 

_____Waiting_____

 

 

God, why oh why do I do this to myself?

 

How often was I right here torn between sitting and jumping up and running around the apartment nervously, always thinking too much?

 

How often did I prepare a nice dinner and set the table?

 

How often did I dump the current girlfriend to do this?

 

Always wondering if tonight was THE night.

 

The night Hannibal would not only find the note, but decide to come over.

 

In comparison to the time that has passed since I started doing this, I probably didnít do it often or maybe not often enough.

 

About once every half year, when life allowed for it.

 

In the beginning... has it really been ten years?

 

Ten years of waiting? Of not daring to give a hint in fear of rejection? Of lusting from afar?

Actually the last one started twelve years ago. I was so young then, not knowing what to do with this sudden, unexpected crush on my CO. I was so nervous that he'd find out.

 

Anyway, in the beginning I wrote extensive letters. Explaining myself, my feelings, everything.

 

I agonized hours over them, writing and rewriting, so as not to make Hannibal mad at me. When after the second, third, fourth time it was obvious he didn't find the letters or deliberately ignored them; I stopped pouring my heart out. The letters grew shorter and shorter every time until they dwindled down to a four word question.

 

Maybe I grew out of needing to explain myself in love letters instead of in person. Or maybe I know Hannibal well enough now to know that he won't deck me anymore should he ever read that note.

 

But I don't believe in it anymore. How often can someone 'not' find a note, if they go through the files painstakingly?

 

Or is that it? Does Hannibal even look at the files? Or does he just ignore them and all my work is for naught? Is that why he never reacted or mentioned it?

 

WHY am I doing this to myself again?

 

Oh, yeah, I'm in love with Hannibal Smith.

 

And too much of a coward to risk what we DO have, by just yanking him in and kissing him within an inch of his life.

 

What was that?

 

Did someone knock?

 

Could that be...?

 

I look through the spy hole.

 

It is.

 

My heart lurches and suddenly my hands are sweating and butterflies flitter through my stomach. I haven't been this nervous since high school.

 

And I think I just burned dinner, judging from the smell wafting through from the kitchen.

 

"Shit."

 

Did I just say that out loud?

 

There's nothing for it and I take a deep breath.

 

I open the door.

 

The beginning

 


Waiting by LizM

 

 


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