SUBLIME, Hannibal Lecter

xi. blowing up brains

Will.

He stopped as soon as he stepped out. His heart skipped a beat the moment he saw her. His gaze dropped again to the same place: the ring finger. The ring.

"Sloane?" Just one word.

She stiffened. Didn't turn. For a second, briefly, she seemed to hesitate. Then she recovered. Ice mask, steady stride.

Will took half a step forward. "Please, can we talk? Just for a moment."

The jingle of keys in her hand was her only answer.

"You brought Winston back..." he continued, uncertain, desperately grasping for something. "Th-thank you."

Sloane opened the car door without looking at him. Not even a nod. For Will, it was worse than a scream, worse than any insult, worse than the spectacle of a few days earlier.

"Do you really want to erase me like this?" he asked suddenly.

For an instant, Sloane froze, her hand still on the door. She didn't turn. Didn't give him even the satisfaction of her eyes. "Goodbye, Will."

The door slammed shut with a sharp, final thud. The engine roared to life. A quick turn on the gravel and Sloane disappeared down the road, leaving him there.

. . .

The fire crackled softly, as if it were breathing with them. The house was quiet, almost too quiet. No urgency, no calls. Just them. Finally alone.

Sloane sat on the couch, wrapped in a light wool blanket. She still smelled faintly of Winston. She'd miss having him around the house. Her hands toyed with the new ring, as though she needed to touch it to convince herself it was real. Every now and then a smile brushed her lips before she could stop it.

Hannibal watched her from the armchair opposite. That simple gesture, the fingers brushing the ring, was a ritual to him. Proof that she belonged to him more and more.

"It feels... strange," Sloane murmured, breaking the silence. "I saw Will today. For a second it felt like everything was... unreal."

Hannibal rose without making a sound, moved toward her, and knelt at her side, a rare gesture; a man like him never lowered himself. Only for her.

"Unreal?" he asked, taking her hand and pressing the back of it to his lips. "Or too real?"

Sloane sighed, searching his eyes. "My life has changed so fast..."

"Life always changes fast," Hannibal answered warmly. "But you don't have to fear it. You have someone now who protects you. Someone who will watch over your every step."

His fingers glided along her wrist, to the spot where her pulse beat strongest. He felt it. Fear mixed with trust. A combination he loved deeply.

"Shall we listen to some music?" he offered. Innocent on the surface, yet a perfectly calculated distraction.

Sloane nodded. Hannibal stood and placed a vinyl record on the turntable. Classical music filled the room: sweet, melancholic, almost an elegant weeping. Quite different from what Sloane was used to.

She watched him return to her. "Sometimes it feels like I don't recognize myself anymore," she whispered. "Like I lost a piece of me along the way."

Hannibal sat beside her, pulling her into his arms with careful gentleness. His fingers brushed her spine. Slow. Sure. Possessive.

"You're not lost," he whispered near her ear. "You're becoming a truer version of yourself."

Sloane closed her eyes and let herself lean into him. Her chest finally relaxed.