Imagine Book 2

A Deadly Therapy Session- Hannibal Lecter (Hannibal) Pt.2~ A Patient's Trust

Continuation as requested by Avengerssoulmate! Fem Y/N.

The Baltimore Museum of Art stood proudly against the afternoon sky, its neoclassical facade a testament to the timeless nature of beauty. Y/N found herself standing at the top of the steps, her heart beating a touch faster than usual. It had been three days since the attack in Dr Lecter's office, three days of replaying those violent moments in her mind, always returning to the way he had protected her, guided her, his strength and grace under pressure revealing yet another layer to his enigmatic personality.

When he had called to suggest meeting here rather than his office for their next session, citing a need for a "change of environment," Y/N had agreed immediately. Now, as she spotted him waiting by the entrance, she felt that familiar flutter in her chest that she was becoming increasingly unable to ignore.

Hannibal Lecter cut an impressive figure even among the well-dressed museum patrons, his burgundy suit immaculately tailored, a matching pocket square adding a flourish of sophistication. As she approached, she noticed the cut on his cheek had already begun to fade, a pale reminder of the violence they'd shared.

"Y/N," he greeted her, the hint of a smile warming his features. "I'm pleased you could make it. How are you feeling?"

"Better," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "Though I'll admit, I haven't been sleeping very well."

Hannibal nodded, gesturing for her to walk with him into the museum. "Perfectly natural, given the circumstances. Our minds often need time to process trauma, even after the physical danger has passed." His hand ghosted over the small of her back as he guided her through the entrance, the touch so light she might have imagined it. "I thought perhaps surrounding ourselves with beauty might provide a beneficial counterpoint to the violence we experienced."

They moved through the galleries, their footsteps echoing softly on the polished floors. Hannibal led them first to the European art wing, where masters of the Renaissance hung in gilded frames.

"Tell me about your dreams," he said as they paused before a Caravaggio, the dramatic play of light and shadow seeming to mirror their recent experience. "When you do manage to sleep."

Y/N studied the painting, gathering her thoughts. "They're... confused. Fragments, mostly. The sound of breaking glass, the glint of wire. But also..." she hesitated, glancing at him. "Your voice. Guiding me through the fear."

"And does my voice in these dreams comfort you? Or does it contribute to your distress?"

"It comforts me," she admitted softly. "Just like it did that day. You were so calm, even with..." She trailed off, the memory still too vivid.

Hannibal turned to face her fully, his maroon eyes intent. "You showed remarkable composure yourself, Y/N. Fear can be a powerful teacher, when we allow it to be. What have you learned from this experience?"

Y/N considered the question as they moved to the next painting, a Vermeer this time, all soft light and quiet domesticity. "That I'm stronger than I thought. That fear doesn't have to paralyze me." She paused, then added, "And that sometimes the people we think we know can surprise us."

A subtle smile curved Hannibal's lips. "Indeed. Relationships are constantly evolving, shaped by shared experiences, particularly those of an intense nature. Our perceptions of each other shift and deepen."

They continued through the gallery, Hannibal occasionally offering insights into the artworks they passed. His knowledge seemed boundless, each observation revealing new layers of meaning in the paintings. Y/N found herself watching him as much as the art, captivated by the grace of his movements, the elegant gestures of his hands as he spoke.