Passion and the Skull (Hannibal Lecter)

5

"Would you like to accompany me to the museum next week?" Hannibal asked. His fingers weaved into Arabella's. They lay on the sofa together. Arabella felt herself becoming addicted to the way he smelled. The subtle vanilla of parchment paper and oak-soaked wine.

"Which one?"

"The Walters Art Museum."

"Ah," Arabella smiled. "I've not been there in a while."

Hannibal brought their interlocked hands to his lips and kissed the back of her hand. "I will collect you from your office on Friday."

Arabella's eyes met his and she felt her composure melting from the intensity of his gaze. He gently moved his head forward to kiss her and broke away. "You are tired."
Arabella resigned to nodding.

"Shall we go to bed?" He began sitting her up, following behind her.

"Yes."

Arabella went to bed and fell asleep not long after assorting herself under the covers of her bed. Hannibal lay beside her until he heard her breathing change. He waved his hand in front of her face and, when there was no response, he got up and returned to her office.

Her journal was in the same place he had left it but tilted at a slightly different angle. He made a mental note to return it to its place perfectly so not to arouse suspicion.

I did not cry nor scream when his head was disconnected from his body. Instead, I watched in wonder. She had cut it off so easily despite her lack of strength. Was there truly that much rage inside of her? I felt it burrowed beneath me, but I was afraid to let it out. Yet here she was, with a blood-flecked hand outstretched to me, telling me that it was okay to let that part of myself out.

"And you have created a fictitious character and writing style to hide yourself from the outside world. Haven't you?" Hannibal spoke as if Arabella was there as he leafed through the fifth chapter of an untitled journal which had rough sketches and dialogue just as a fiction story would. Hannibal recognised the influences of literary works such as Bram Stoker's Dracula and Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. He had previously learnt of her - or her 'character' – experiencing a traumatic assault in the chapters prior. He had now reached the part where the first blow of justice had taken place, and the protagonist was struggling to process. She seemed to be accompanied by a nameless guide. Hannibal considered that this was the part of her that wished for the violence. A subconscious buried part. He felt a strong interest to tease it out of her and see what she was capable of. It would take time and it would take time for Arabella to truly reach a point of chronic vulnerability and depend on him. Hannibal had felt a strong willingness to get inside her head and break her down as soon at the talk at the university. This had followed noticing her months before at a museum and taking satisfaction in her joy of looking at paintings and sculptures. Only weeks before this, a new patient had been telling Hannibal about their old therapist and the things she had told him.

Now, he sat in her office in her home while she slept. He had felt a level of comfort in their shared interactions thus far. He was truly disappointed in her choice of diet mainly because he would not be feeding her any of his signature meals. It felt like there was a spoil to their connection. How else could he convey his care at a physical level? It was his art. His recreation. The work of a god.

"And what of you, nameless guide?" Hannibal spoke to the journal again. "You seem to delight in awful people meeting violent ends. Would you dine on their flesh?"

He heard Arabella stirring in the other room. He carefully placed the journal back where he found it and returned to the bedroom.

Arabella woke up early and saw Hannibal asleep beside her. She checked if he was awake before slowly getting out of bed. It was regular for her to wake up early and not feel able to fall asleep again. She went into her office and grabbed a book from her bookshelf before heading downstairs. The wine glasses from the evening before were still on the side table. Arabella took them to the kitchen and made herself a coffee. She spent her first hour of being awake reading in her armchair, glancing over at the sofa and remembering the events of the evening before. It made reading a more laborious task than usual as she found herself, with parted lips and warm skin, revisiting the fresh memories of where Hannibal had touched her.

Arabella looked up as she heard movement on the stairs. Hannibal emerged with lightly dishevelled hair. Arabella closed her book and put it on the table beside her half-drunk coffee.

"Daphne Du Maurier." Hannibal pronounced the surname with a well-done French accent.

"I've had the book on my shelf for a while but never read it." She smiled at Hannibal as he passed her and went to retrieve coffee for himself in the kitchen.

When he returned, he placed his mug next to hers and abandoned it for the other side of the sofa where he then beckoned her to join him.

She lay against his chest, both of them facing outwards. She felt his chest rise and fall against her back in steady rhythm. She leaned her head back onto his shoulder and let herself relax.

"I noticed your fiction collection. Do you find yourself to the dark and macabre?" His voice vibrated in his chest and down her spine.

"I suppose I do. I can find stories drab without the beauty and excitement I recognise in my so-called 'dark and macabre' books."

"I would be lying if I did not say I felt the same."

"Yes. I saw your gorgeous collection of old gothic literature. I'd love to spend an evening reading one of them."

"When you next visit I will pick one for you to read." His fingers brushed through her hair, materialising shivers down her spine.

"Would it be cruel of me to leave so soon?" Hannibal inquired. "I have appreciated my time with you this weekend."

"Not at all. You've been a beautiful distraction from my work." Arabella twisted her body to see his face and smiled at him. "I do need to finish my article soon so I could use the rest of today to get it done."

They kissed. Arabella moved the rest of her body, so she was straddling Hannibal. When she broke away from the kiss he was looking up at her slightly.

"Mmm, much better." She presented a coy smile to him.

"I see this is something we'll be fighting over a bit."

"Maybe." Arabella went to kiss him again, but he moved so quick she didn't have time to react. Before she knew it, she was laying down on the sofa with him hovering over her. One of his arms pinned her wrists above her head whilst the other steadied his position.

After a few moments of quickened breaths, Arabella looked up at him with adoring eyes.

"The way you move is incredible." And frightening. You can be so quiet and so quick. She thought to herself.

He leaned down to kiss her. Then with an apologetic glance, he let her go and stood up from the sofa.

Arabella watched him put on his coat and shoes and jumped up from the sofa to walk him out the door and give him a final quick kiss.

"I will see you on Friday at your office."

"See you then." Arabella smiled. As he walked to his car, she shut the door to prevent the cold from getting in any further. She returned to her coffee and book once more for some time before heading back to the office to do her work.