Hannibal Fan-Fiction Part 24

She got up from her seat and made her way quickly out one of the doors to the side of the room that opened out to a sitting area set up so guests could enjoy the view of a lake (or large pond, whatever it was). The area was surrounded by a small, waist high fence. She took a deep breath when she reached it. She held onto it as she looked out at the water.
Inside, Hannibal had finished talking to the professor [he was a decent fellow; knew a thing or two, but still had a lot to learn]. He walked back to the table only to find it empty. It was still a slow song and he didn't seen Claire dancing with anyone, although he did see Will and Alana, and Will needed to brush up on his dancing some. He scanned the rest of the room. Found the other two at the bar, but no Claire. He half expected her to follow one of them around since she had gained some comfort with them. Eventually, he saw her through one of the big windows. Before he made his way out he talked to the DJ.
Outside, Claire tried to calm herself. “I'm ok. I'm ok. Nobody cares about you.”
“I care.”
She nearly jumped out of her skin as she quickly turned around to see Hannibal.
“Whoa!” she exclaimed. “I-- That is not what I meant.”
“Is it safe to assume that you had a bit of a panic attack. Felt that every eye was on you? Or that every conversation involved you?” He glanced in her eyes trying to read them.
She leaned back on the rail. “Yea. Deep down, I know it's not like that.”
“Good.”
“I'm sorry. I am trying.”
“You're doing very well, Claire. Imagine if I had asked you to do any of this when we first met. Could you have?”
She thought for a minute. “It's hard to say for sure, but I suppose I couldn't have.” They shared a smile. “Thank you. I honestly feel that you've changed me somehow.”
He stroked her face again. “Sometimes, I feel the same way about you.”
She beamed as he gave her a kiss and then stood forehead to forehead.
“Let's go back inside,” he commanded softly.
He held the door open for her and they walked back into the building. She made her way to the table intending to sit down, but he stopped her and nodded at the DJ. The current song finished.
“And now, we've got a special request,” he announced as Nickelback's Lullaby began to play through the speaker.
“May I have this dance?” Hannibal whispered in Claire's ear.
She nodded and took his hand. “I don't know what I'm doing.”
“Don't worry. I will guide you.”
He took her hands and placed one on his shoulder and kept the other in his. His other hand sat on her waist. He gently guided her in a ballroom like dance.
“This was your request?” she asked him in awe.
“Yes. I admit to skimming through the music on your iPod. This one caught my attention and I gave it a try. You do know that the music one picks describes one's mindset and feelings better than anything else?”
She nodded knowing exactly what he was talking about.
He continued after a moment. “Such sad lyrics, but they made me think of you. Claire, I want you you to know that I really I do worry about you. And that you are never alone. At least, not anymore.”
Somehow she held eye contact with him and got lost within the music and the moment in general. It felt as if everyone else faded away and it was just her and Hannibal......The Cannibal. The one person whom she felt the best connection with and who cared so much about her, and he was a God damn killer. And not just any killer; he ate the people he killed. Yet here he was ballroom dancing with her and occasionally mouthing the words.
If you can hear me know, I'm reaching out to let you know that you're not alone. And if you can't tell how scared I sound, because I can't get you on the telephone. So just close your eyes. Here comes a lullaby.
'Mouthing with the words? And it's not a song he'd normally enjoy. How often does he think of you,' she thought. 'But what way does he think of you?' She was so confused. 'Shut up and just enjoy this moment. You know deep down how you feel about him.
'Do I?
'Yes, I do.'
The song neared ending and he aloud her to wrap both her arms around his neck and lay her head on his shoulder. He moved his hands to her back and slowed their movements. The song ended and they still embraced each other. It wasn't until the room filled with cheers and woos again did it hit them that they had been somewhat the center of attention.
“Oh, sh---” Claire said hiding her face in his chest.
“Now, my dear, there's no need to be rude,” he teased her. “Bow to our audience.”
Smiling, she followed his lead.
The festivities lasted until well after midnight. Hannibal decided to take Claire back to his house, partially because of time, part of it was a need to analyze her, and another part was something else.
“Not going to lie, it feels good to get those shoes off,” she told him as she took a glass of water from him.
“I'm glad to be away from what they called music.” He had taken off the tuxedo jacket and joined her on the couch with his own glass of water.
“I thought you were going to lose it when Sexy and I Know It came on.” She started giggling, then stopped when she saw the expression on his face. “Sorry.”
He put his glass down and turned to her. “Besides the anxiety attack, how did you think you handled this?”
“Well, besides that, it was actually pretty fun toni---Hey. Are you examining me? You're not my doctor anymore, Hannibal.”
“True. But I am a psychiatrist and the human mind is one of my passions. And as I've said before, I do worry about you.”
“Fine,” she sighed. She placed her glass on the table, took the scrunchy out of her hair, and laid down on the couch with her head on his lap, mocking the stereotypical 'patient laying on the couch'. “Yes. I had fun. But I still don't know how to feel about being the center of attention. Twice!”
“There are two ways to handle that.” He began to play with her hair as he spoke. “You can see it as a big embarrassment and regret ever catching the bouquet or dancing with me or the whole day itself. Or you can take it as a compliment. That you were doing something worth their attention.”
“I don't regret it. Any of it.”
He looked down into her eyes. “Then, you were heavily complimented.”
“I'll try and convince myself of that.”
He knew the expression on her face. “You look like there's more you want to say.”
“It's just.....It's silly.” She sat up and avoided his gaze. “It's a feeling that I hadn't had since high school dances.”
“Tell me.”
“I had a couple moments of comparing myself to everyone else. That my dress is kind of cheap looking compared to everyone else's or my makeup is terrible. Essentially, I didn't feel as pretty as all the other ladies. Oh my God that sounds stupid.”
Somehow he knew that this issue would come up. He was pretty used to it not just from Claire but anytime a female, and even some of the male, patients brought up a wedding this was always the topic matter: how the person he was talking with compared to the other guests at the event.
Claire continued. “I know that's childish thinking but I don't know how to fight it. And your friend, Alana, wasn't helping-”
“Just stop.” He had his hand raised slightly. “There is no need to compare yourself to anyone. A lot of that kind of thinking is worry that your significant other is going to be more attracted to someone else. Is that correct with your thinking?” She pondered that for a split second and then nodded. “Then put your mind at ease. No one else got my attention like you did.”
“Not even Alana?” The question had been burning in the back of her mind since she felt that tension in front of the church.
“No,” he answered flatly. Of course, Alana had gotten his attention, but he fought it off reminding himself that that was over.
She had to ask. “Were you involved with her?” He glared at her and didn't say word. “Sorry. I was just curious. I felt a little hostility when we first met, I just wanted to know if that was the reason.”
He sighed, not really thrilled about the subject of his past relationship. “Yes. We were together. But now we are not. Now I have you.”
She looked down as she smiled and brushed hair out of her face. He too smiled and looked down at his watch. It was getting late and he had planed to hunt.
She noticed. “Were you planning on going out tonight?”
“I already went out. You were there with me--” he quickly answered, avoiding answering honestly.
“That's not what I meant.”
He flashed that smirk of his, not offering any other detail.
Her tone turned quiet and slightly dark. “I'll stay here. That gives you an alibi. If anyone asks, we spent the night together. Go hunt.”
He looked at her in slight amazement, then leaned over, and kissed her. Maybe this was a good thing that she knew and stuck around. Maybe.
He was almost out the door on his way to get ready when she spoke again. “Please, be careful, Hannibal. And good luck.” She smiled again, but this time, there was a twinge of evil to it.

It started the night of the wedding. A young woman had disappeared without any trace of what had happened, other than her car, purse, and other personal belongings were left outside a gas station. Everyone tried to call her cell number, but it would go straight to voice mail. After the twenty-four hour waiting period, the police began to investigate, but found no clues as to whether the young lady was kidnapped, murdered, or just simply ran away.
That is until her naked and beaten body showed up four days later in a back alley, buried under some trash. They only clue as to what happened to her were markings on her left arm: a horizontal line connected to a vertical line topped with another horizontal line and then another vertical line leading down from that. One of the officers who saw it felt it looked familiar.