Nostalgia

Can you say ‘Hello?’” Will asked the little girl sitting on Hannibal’s lap.

Her big, black eyes shyly turned from the stranger and hid in her father’s chest, while her hands covered her face.

Hannibal lightly smiled as he rubbed her back. “Go on,” he urged in their native language. “You know how to say it. I taught you, remember?” he nudged her head with a kiss.

She lifted one eye to Will and barely moved her fingers. “Hilo,” she whispered with a heavy accent that mispronounced the word.

Will smirked, while Hannibal silently radiated with pride.

“Well hi,” he answered cheerfully. Though initially surprised at the appearance of Lecter’s apparent daughter, Will was invited into the Doctor’s office and sat himself in a chair across from the two on the chaise lounge. And though he had been shocked, Hannibal seemed exponentially more frightened by his comment on even noting her presence, though neither pursued a word of it for fear of the other’s response.

She quickly pushed her face back into her father’s warmth and clutched to his lapels.

“You must forgive her,” Hannibal insisted. “What little English she knows is overpowered by her timidity,” he explained as he pet her head.

“It’s not a problem,” Will chuckled—the relief of the girl’s innocent nature had lifted whatever burden he’d come to lay on Doctor Lecter. He had even surprised himself with his own laughter.

“So tell me, Will, how have the headaches been?” He asked in an effort to change the subject. He had grown increasingly nervous about the entire circumstance of his daughter and her impossible ressurerection from the dead, after Will had revealed his ability to see Lily—which conjured the startling revelation that she wasn’t his a figment of his imagination. He didn’t comprehend, nor could he arouse any kind of satisfactory answer any way he evaluated the situation. Things were out of his control—out of his understanding—and it was driving him mad.

Hannibal tried to pry his daughter off of him to lay her down on the lounge as she started to sigh and fuss with tiredness, but no matter what he did, she wouldn’t let go of him.

They both chuckled quietly at her antics.

“What are you doing, Lily?” he asked her as he, once more, tried to reposition her.

“Don’t let me go, Papa, please,” she begged and gripped even tighter to his clothes, and then to his tie.

Lecter choked and wriggled it out of her tiny, yet immensely strong hands.

“A kid’s strength is always surprising, isn’t it?” Will noted laughingly.

“You aren’t kidding,” Hannibal rubbed his neck, then wrapped his arms around his daughter tenderly. “Do you want me to hold you?” he asked.

“Don’t let me go,” she repeated again, this time with tears stained in her eyes and on his vest.

“Don’t cry, my Lily. I’m right here. No harm will come to you,” he hushed her.

“Why don’t I go?” Will offered, as he stood, seeing the Doctor struggle to balance the girl on his lap.

Hannibal looked up at him. “I sincerely apologise for the unexpected…” Lily tossed in his arms and he shifted to catch up with her. “…interruption. If you wish to call me later, we can reschedule.” She continued to squirm, and he looked down to her. “Lily, what are you doing?” he huffed softly.

“Take your time, Doctor,” he made his way to the door. “I’ll see myself out.”

“Thank you, Will,” he answered and watched as he closed the door behind him.