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Silence settled for a while, the mood gradually shifting from this merry reminiscence to something darker. Hannibal's gentle massage eventually settled, blood seeping through his bandage. A Lithuanian word passed his lips and Frances almost fell out of bed. In spite of everything, she had never heard him swear. Her wide eyes searched his face, and when she found the pain, her face twisted. Sadness washed over her... regret, slowly but surely calling rightful anger.
— "Are we going to speak about the fact that you have been lying to me ? And probably coercing Will into lying to me as well ?"
Hannibal winced again. Yeah, she was mightily pissed, and he would get an earful because he had no way to escape that bed.
— "I didn't, I just avoided voicing my concerns."
— "Lying by omission, husband, much much better", she hissed.
— "Aren't you practicing every day ?"
The psychiatrist cringed at his own low blow. Yes, she was lying by omission to Will every single day, and suffered from it. All of it for his sake, but she needed to understand that it was for hers just as well. Needed to take the responsibility so that it didn't rest solely on his shoulders. Yes, she was protecting a serial killer, and the justice would see her as an accomplice.
Frances stuttered then, hit full force by the horrible truth of this statement. Trust Hannibal to break her heart in a thousand pieces at the worst of moments. He knew her buttons, like the master manipulator he was. He knew how to put her on her knees, how to call the guilt and show her how irrational she was.
— "We do strange things for love", she spat.
Then she removed the IV and let it leak on the floor.
— "Frances..."
Jaw clenched, she tore the wires away from her chest – a habit – and stood on her uninjured leg. He could see the moment the world started spinning for her, and worry replaced annoyance. Yes, he'd only stated the truth, but now was hardly the moment to rub her nose into those inconsistencies. How heartless he could be... The machine started yelling about the absence of heartrate, but Frances ignored it entirely. Pure anger shone in her eyes, radiating off her like a tsunami.
— "I hate you, Hannibal"
The she hopped away on one leg, holding to the walls to keep upright.
— "I know. As much as you love me", he whispered.
She turned around just before passing the door, giving him one last look. Wondering, maybe, how he knew it.
— "I see it in your eyes, sometimes", he explained.
The dam broke then, and sadness replaced anger as tears leaked from her eyes. He watched as her chest heaved to contain the sobs. Then she left, leaving the door clanging behind her. Nurses and doctors irrupted in a flurry of panick barely ten seconds later. Hannibal settled on his back, telling them that his wife had left. How they had not been able to catch her in the corridor was a wonder; those people definitely couldn't be trusted with Frances' life.
An hour passed, then two and Hannibal started to worry for good. How did she fare, his little wife ? Would she sell him in her anger ? Call Jack Crawford and tell him about the Chesapeake Ripper ? No, she never would. Funny how his life hung by a thread; she held his future in her hands, and he wasn't even worried for himself. She had protected him with her life, and he had lashed out. Residual fear, he guessed, for seeing her at the bottom of that pool to save him.
Well, well. It seemed the psychiatrist was at the mercy of human feelings after all. Good, or bad news ? Hannibal mulled over it; it depended on the point of view. Frances would be delighted to take a peek at his heart and see it beating, while he didn't particularly relish in the weakness of human emotions. Yet... perhaps an apology was in order.
But it would have to wait, though, because she didn't return. Neither in the evening, nor at night. Hannibal had no trouble finding sleep – a side effect of the surgery – but his dreams were plagued by her agonised cries. The second day, a delivery man came to the room with red roses, and a proper meal from a nearby restaurant. Filet mignon and mashed potatoes. Attached to the flower was a card, written by her hand. The quill had trembled at the bottom, and reality suddenly crashed. Would he ever see her again ? Had she eventually realised that she couldn't handle it ? Handle him ? Has she disappeared like she had promised to do on the first night, never to return ? He wouldn't chase her; the unspoken promise between them still held.
"Get well. Do not worry about me, I hired a nurse
Forever yours,
Frances"
Bereft, Hannibal lost his gaze in the contemplation of the red blossoms she had chosen for him. Would it be the last token of a loving wife who had nearly sacrificed herself for him ? Was he really worth it ? He missed her now. Her laugh, her quick wit, her teasing. Her secret smiles and twinkling eyes. He had gotten so used to having her close, to finding her home to exchange his view of the world or opinions on whatever was on the news. The nurse found him in his own little world, then the doctor came, asking about his wife whereabouts. He was rather ashamed to admit that he had no idea where she could be.
A few hours later, Will and Jack Crawford came to Hannibal's room, their faces grave. The head of behaviorial sciences didn't beat around the bush as he announced.
— "Freddie Lounds is dead"
Hannibal's eyebrows shot up, surprised by this new development, but not too disappointed.
— "What happened ?", he asked.
It was Will who responded, stubbornly refusing to meet his eyes.
— "The red dragon shot her before he came to get you. One bullet to the head as per the modum operandi"
— "This is grave news indeed"
Crawford fidgeted for a moment before he made for the door.
— "I would never wish for someone's death, but since she sent him after you with her article, I guess we can call it karma and leave it at that. Another victim of the Red Dragon"
Frowning, Hannibal tried to catch Will's gaze.
— "I didn't think miss Lounds would be a target. I don't understand his motives"
— "Neither do I. But I am glad this is over and you are recovering, Dr Lecter. Now I must be on my way, give my respects to your wife"
And Jack left without even realising that Frances' bed was not even unmade. Will trailed beside his, his eyes lingering on the bandages that adorned Hannibal's forearms. Then he sat at his feet.
— "Where is Frances ?"
The psychiatrist cocked his head aside, wondering how he was going to explain her absence.
— "You know her, she hates hospitals. She left..."
The empath jumped on his feet.
— "What ? What about her leg ? Where is she ? I should visit her to make sure she is allright"
— "Will."
Hannibal's tone cause Will to stop in his tracks.
— "She left. I sent someone home, and she is not there. Her phone remained behind, though. I don't know where she fled"
— "Why ? I though she knew she can come to me anytime"
Something flickered in the doctor's eyes, the jealousy quelled by the fact that Frances had chosen not to hide in Wolf's Trap this time.
— "Her anger has gotten the best of her"
— "Why ?"
Hannibal's tongue darted over his upper teeth, his jaw tightening.
— "Because I didn't tell her about Francis. Because I was mistaken and made him into the man he was. Because I asked you not to say anything. Because I said things I shouldn't have out of fear..."
The list was long, so long that Hannibal realised how betrayed his wife must feel. There was much to atone for... if he ever saw her again. But Will shook his head stubbornly.
— "She wouldn't do that. She wouldn't run like that unless she had a very good reason"
— "She is in shock, Will. She was there long enough to see Francis bleeding me like a cow. She stopped his knife before he could rip my heart out. That's enough to mess with someone's mind. Give her some time"
The reminder of her face, aghast, as she charged Francis caused his stitches to burn. Hannibal closed his eyes to refrain from scratching the damn bandages. Another seven days until they could be removed, damn ! Would she be here when the nurse took them off ?
— "She's strong, she will come round"
Hannibal nodded, doubt nagging at him once more.
— "Yes, I hope so. In the meantime, I am rather curious about the red dragon's motives to kill Freddie Lounds. Did you manage to sort it out ?"
The look Will Graham gave him in return was laden with shame.
Every day, Hannibal received two meals to keep him sane. A wonderful attention from an absent woman whose anger still echoed on the whitewashed walls. Five long days in hospital, where his mind wandered to her secretive smile, and the way his heart soared whenever she used him as a cushion. But of Frances, there was no trace.
On the fifth day, Hannibal called a taxi to bring him home, a little suitcase containing his belongings, and Frances' by his side. The stitches still pulled, and he could barely lift the damn luggage. Fortunately, the taxi driver brought it up in a gesture of good manner, and Hannibal thanked him with a rewarding tip. Only when the man left did he hear the sound of the harpsichord playing in the living room.
His heart rate picked up as he struggled with the lock, his ear strained to hear how beautifully Frances played this song. 'Nuvole bianche', of course, her Einaudi favourite piece. Then the music stopped, and the door opened before he could cry from the strain of turning the blasted bolts. His eyes nearly watered when he spotted her, long flowing pants to hide the bandages of her calf, the cashmere jumper he had offered her upon her shoulders. The mighty bruise at the side of her face had faded from purple to yellowish; it still made him angry. Her eyes roamed over him, as if assessing if she should let him enter in his own house. The truth was that he quite wondered himself if he was worthy to have a wife. She was, now, mistress of this place.
The wide chocolate eyes were sad, the circles on her skin betraying lack of sleep. Immediately, she looked at his wrist, then at the fading bruise on his neck. Then their eyes met, and Hannibal staggered from the amount of emotions that flooded between them. It was so intense, nearly painful to watch such was her distress. She was... desperate. For a second, he wondered if they were going to survive this, as a couple. If she was going to survive this, as a person.
— "I am happy to see you well", she said.
Her voice was deadened, disincarnate. Before Hannibal could find the proper words – for once, his mind failed him – she turned around and hopped through the corridor, leaving the door open for him. The psychiatrist pushed the suitcase inside with his foot, then closed the front door behind him. Frances' voice called from the stairs:
— "Don't pull the bolts, I'm expecting the nurse in an hour"
— "How is your calf healing?"
— "Like a bullet wound. No infection", she deadpanned.
Her eyes didn't rise to meet his, and she leant over the stairs ramp.
— "I could take over the treatment if you want", Hannibal suggested.
— "No, you can't, not with your forearms"
The subject was closed.
— "Will was very worried when he didn't find you here. So was I"
Silence.
— "Where were you?"
— "Away"
The young woman hopped up the stairs painfully – couldn't she use crunches for God's sake ! - disappearing from view. The door from her study closed, and Hannibal crashed into the living room, his feelings all over the place. Had trust gone entirely ? Was there anything worth repairing ? Where was 'away ?' Sighing, he let his head fall over the headrest, and closed his eyes. The familiar scents of his home brought him unexpected solace, and he fell asleep in the armchair.
Hannibal started awake. Something was wrong. He stood slowly, ready to attack whatever had snaked into his house. Frances was upstairs, damn ! Worried, the psychiatrist crawled into the darkened corridor. A woman screamed and he started.
— "Oh my god, sir. You startled me !"
A brunette woman, mid-forties, put her hand over her chest. Recognising the heavy bag – the nurse ! Hannibal released the breath he was holding. Was he suffering from post traumatic stress ? damn, he would have to talk it out with his own psychiatrist. He couldn't start jumping at every noise like Frances did. He was used to being the predator, not the prey...
— "My apologies. I'm Doctor Lecter"
— "Your wife told me you have stitches, did you need me to have a look ?"
He shook his head, reaching for the light switch carefully – to avoid pulling at the muscle.
— "It's allright, but thank you for asking, and taking a good care of Frances."
— "You're welcome. I'll come by tomorrow, same time. And Dr ? For the record, I am glad this monster is dead so he can't attack innocent people anymore"
The psychiatrist nodded absently, letting the woman go. When the door clanged, he turned around to find Frances upstairs, watching him.
— "Innocent people...", she murmured.
Then she disappeared in their bedroom. Hannibal sighed; he needed to fix this mess and was glad that Frances had remained in the master bedroom rather than take a guest room. It meant she felt at home there. Climbing the stairs, he found her lying on the bed, her leg extended. He sat beside her, keeping his hands to himself.
— "If I make love to you all night, will you forgive me ?"
Her eyebrows rose at this unexpected icebreaker, but she didn't smile.
— "Forgive you for being who you are ?"
Hannibal's breath caught; it was nothing but the truth. Had she come to that conclusion during her voluntary seclusion ?
— "You were right", she said. "This is what hurts the most"
— "", he quoted.
She gave him a suspicious look; where was the mistake ?
— "Who said that ?"
— "Carl Jung"
Her nose crunched as she roamed her mind. Hannibal could spot the moment she found it, for her features changed.
— "Freud's disciple ?"
To think she was only twenty-three years old, and already knowledgeable in so many things.
— "You always amaze me, my beautiful"
— "You taught me about him. I always remember what you tell me"
Fondness washed over Hannibal like a benevolent wave.
— "Yes, you have shown an aptitude to learn equal to my own. You are my match, Frances."
The compliment didn't strike as she retorted angrily.
— "In all manners of things except for the bloodlust and disposition towards others"
It should have stung, but Hannibal knew that about him. As a sociopath, he had trouble considering others as human beings with feelings. Hence the way he played about with their psyche, and experimented. Hence his desperate research of acceptance and understanding. And no matter how hard Frances tried, she would never be able to understand him fully, nor to accept his ways.
— "Yes. Are you still willing to keep me as a husband ?"
— "Til death do us part, even if I have to deal it"
The roof could have fallen upon the pair that their eyes would still be locked. For the first time, Frances had issued a warning. Hannibal took a moment to consider the threat – to herself, and to him – his analysis very little impaired by feelings. He could still kill her... or she could kill him. Well, that was an interesting development. Division, when a near death experience should have brought them closer. Back to square one, except that the kitten had grown into a panther. A smirk formed at the corner of his lips; how would he deal with her ten years from now, when her character had grown and her resolve strengthened ? She already was a formidable adversary.
— "How can we bridge this gap, Frances ?"
The young woman dropped her gaze to the wedding ring on her finger, fiddling with it.
— "No more lies. No more omissions. You aren't protecting me this way"
— "If you had listened to Will..."
Frances sprang on the bed, the pain from her leg barely making it to her face such was her wrath.
— "You would be fucking dead, Hannibal", she shouted.
Angst and fear suddenly flooded him, and the psychiatrist surprised himself by shouting back.
— "Better you than me !"
There were tears in her eyes, and her chest heaved. Setting a hand on her sternum, she sent him a pleading look.
— "How do you think I would fare if you died, uh ? How long do you think I would have ?"
The plain truth hit him like a brick wall and Hannibal sat, defeated.
— "What do you want, Frances ?"
Her features set in a resolved expression he knew well. There would be no negociation.
— "I want trust. You need to stop thinking like a lone man. We're a family now."
The words family caused his heart to stir, but the fire was extinguished at once. Too dangerous. Too volatile.
— "I've been to war, I've deceived snake heads and fought against wraith that would make your blood freeze. Together, we're invincible."
Folding her legs with a wince, she touched his cheekbone.
— "Apart... it doesn't work Hannibal. Or maybe you should have come with me at the skating rink like you promised."
— "You are right, my beautiful. I owe you that."
Dejected, she landed on the bed again.
— "I don't think I'll be able to skate for some time"
Hannibal shook his head regretfully.
— "No. But when you are, I will be here with you"
A tentative truce was sealed, but Hannibal knew that it would take time to mend this tear between them. And truth be told, he really wanted to. Somehow, this little lady had become the sun he revolved around.