Colliding worlds (Hannibal x OC)

The blue bolt

I advise you listen to the excellent 'Divenire' from Ludovico Einaudi while you read this.

Punishment for his silence or facetiousness, Frances was behind the wheel today. Something about 'sharing the responsibility', as she said. And Hannibal had to admit that, for once, it was nice not to be the one in charge, although her driving was way more energetic than his. He'd gotten sloppy, living in the United States. Perhaps in ten years from now, Frances would slow down and take turns at a more reasonable speed. Not that it bothered him, really; Hannibal had reflexes that could rival a cat's.

Everything he had to do was direct her on the route to take, and see her smile widen each time they took a turn that drew them closer to the Ocean. Hannibal slightly shook his head; she was his first case of 'sea' addiction.

The music switched to a piano piece composed by Ludovico Einaudi, causing Hannibal's lips to twitch. Italy ... the country of his dead mother, one they shared a passion with – outside of Japan. His songs conveyed such emotions ... albeit without the technical complexity from a genius like Chopin. The whole Opera board would probably cringe, as he would have, at hearing such a commoner... Einaudi composed for the crowds, loved all over the world by people who knew nothing about classical music, earning scorn and disdain from connoisseurs. Yet, he understood why Frances would love it; her emotions led her so beautifully. And truth be told, Einaudi's pieces had been an excellent exercise as he learnt the harpsichord; they were relatively easy to play for a man like him. But Frances preferred the piano, its sound rounder, softer somehow.

Her body itched to dance as she drove, her head lolling from left to right with the flow of notes. Hannibal resolved himself to play some of those long discarded pieces for her, just to see if she could resist the pull. Ever since she had resumed figure skating, Frances also worked a classical routine to strengthen her muscles and improve her flexibility. She now danced around in the house, from kitchen to dining room, spinning with the plates in hand whenever she set the table or cooked. It was embedded in her, like the blood in her veins. Still, the famous 'Divenire', with all its joy and lightness, failed at chasing away the clouds in his head. His silence shifted from companionable to tense. It didn't take long for Frances to catch his mood, but she left him to his own devices.

For once, the psychiatrist was the one to break the subject.

— 'Have you read Freddie Lounds' latest article?'

His tone was light, almost disinterested but Frances wasn't fooled. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel, her eyes flashing with a dangerous gleam.

— 'No. I don't read rags.'

Hannibal nodded, not the slightest surprised by the venom in her voice. Still, he wondered why the woman chose to ignore what was written about her. Perhaps she didn't want to find out about anything he might have done in tattle crime? A way to protect herself from his crimes? To protect him from ...?

— 'Anything interesting?'

Hannibal almost started, catching her intense chocolate eyes. Almost. She was an interesting woman, his soon to be wife.

— 'She wrote about your encounter, mostly.'

Frances shrugged, unconcerned.

— 'Nothing I didn't expect. Why are you mentioning this?'

And smart.

— 'I was wondering whether I should sue her for the lies she spreads about you.'

— 'Bah. If it's about me, who cares. She'll never find anything. Won't she?'

Hannibal's eyes narrowed and Frances failed at keeping her façade, for behind the mask her eyes shone with a murderous look. She hated that journalist, and Hannibal would have killed her without a second thought ... and maybe Frances would have loved to slit her pale throat herself. Perhaps not. But Freddie Lounds was too close to the FBI now; her disappearance would raise questions and expose them. And Frances would never approve of cold blood murder anyway; his fantasy could eat its heart out. Seeing that he was mulling over things, Frances called his attention again, offering another aperture to the problem.