ᴄʟᴏsᴇʀ ʜᴀɴɴɪʙᴀʟ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (Discontinued)

Chapter 4: I See You

Trigger Warnings: There's implications of child abuse, but nothing very detailed.

Tell me about your childhood." Hannibal prompted, holding his notes as he crossed one leg over the other, looking at you with his dark eyes. You shrugged, trying to consider where you were going to start. You had no real intentions of talking about such things seeing as though you simply came in just to chat about the usual stresses of work. But Hannibal seemed interested in the current murder that you and Will were investigating together.

You gave a basic summary of what was found at the scene and the suspicions of possible reasonings for the murder, but that was all you would admit to. You wouldn't let him see you yet.
"Will is unsure if the killer is a copycat of the Chesapeake Ripper or if they're just coincidentally similar in their creativity." You said.

"What do you think?" Hannibal looked at you in an interesting manner that said something to you that you couldn't read.

"I think whoever it is is just creative. That's all."

You were still unsure of whether or not he could be entirely trusted, although you knew he had secrets of his own. He hid them well behind his own mask, and while you couldn't quite make out what they were, you could still see them manifested within him. But Hannibal Lecter was no fool and you weren't quite as reserved as he was. He could see something in your own eyes that glinted when you talked about the body. Before you could catch on to his game, he switched the subject on you. Your childhood. What could you even say about it? You never dwelled on it much.

"What should I even say?" You laughed a bit, turning your head very slightly to glance beyond the mahogany desk to the large window. The sky was grey and your eyes quickly followed a flock of birds as they flew by. "It doesn't really seem relevant."

"It's always relevant, (Y/N)." Hannibal responded. "The experiences mold a great deal of our perceptions of reality. I know that you know that. It is basic logic." This made you roll your eyes and you faced him again. You knew he was trying to get under your skin. He wore a devilish grin on his face, but it was more in the eyes as his mouth was only slightly crooked into such a grin.

You sighed, shrugging once more. "It was a pretty normal childhood, I suppose." You started, toying with the sleeve of your shirt. "I mean, we all have traumas." Hannibal hummed in agreement. "I was about five when my mother decided to walk out on my father and me. That took a toll on my father, especially since he was new to the parent thing in the first place. But he tried his best to give me the best life.

"My uncle, my mother's brother, still stayed around for some reason. He watched me whenever my father had to pull an extra shift or something. His kids were about the same age as me, so that was nice." You paused, shivering slightly as if something was trying to pry itself out of your subconscious, but you couldn't figure out what it was. Of course, Hannibal noted this quietly. You shook off the strange feeling and smiled back at the psychiatrist before you. "That's about it on the family history section of my life."

"What were you like as you got older?" Hannibal's insistence on your childhood made your eye twitch and you tried to clear your throat to distract from it. You knew his gaze was still upon you, even when you went back to looking at your sleeve, thinking about your child self.

"I was easily liked as a child. Other kids were quick to befriend me and I was the one everyone wanted to play with during our free time. I had a bit of an anger management issue, but that was if things didn't go my way."

"Do elaborate, please."

You chuckled this time at the memory that appeared before you. "I remember that I cut some girl's hair in class because she didn't want to play the same game as me while we were outside earlier that day." The memory felt so warm in your chest. "She cried and cried. It was the first time that I ever felt so strong. I obviously got into trouble and my uncle told me that if I ever did that again, he would hit me harder than he did then. But I loved the feeling I had when I held the girl's hair in my hands."

You noticed that Hannibal's scribbling had paused and he only looked at you. "Your uncle was the one to punish you? Not your father?"

You shook your head. "I was told that he was given permission."

"Your father told you this?"

"My uncle told me." You watched Hannibal jot another note down in his journal. You could still feel something tugging at your brain, trying to be released. Instead, you focused more on Hannibal's hand as he wrote. "What's your diagnosis, Dr.?"

Hannibal sighed, closing his journal and looking back to you. "Do you believe that you were abused?"

This was a bit shocking for you, and the feeling of shock shocked you even more. "Excuse me?" Hannibal repeated himself and you scoffed, your body stood up suddenly against your brain's own command to stay seated.

"Based off of what little you've told me so far, there are already indicators of trauma brought on by abuse." Hannibal remained seated, face still cool. "You've more than likely suppressed a significant number of negative memories, but your behavior still remains the same."

Your eyebrows furrowed, heart rate picking up. "What are you talking about?"

He knew.

"You went from cutting the hair off of children who displeased you and then you probably found another way to take out your aggression, but now you've moved on to cutting people up themselves."

He saw you.

He saw you, but it didn't feel as relieving as you had thought. In fact, you felt like a trapped animal for the first time. You felt attacked, panicked. Would he report you? Would you be able to kill him now if he said he would?

Hannibal stood now, moving toward you, and you didn't move a muscle. You kept eye contact with him. In seconds it seemed that he was standing directly in front of you, putting one hand around your waist and using his other hand to move your hair behind your ear. He leaned down to whisper to you and his breath was as warm as your chest was. "You aren't as sly as you believe yourself to be." His lips moved against your ear and you swore that you could feel heat beginning to rise between your legs. "I must say, your work may be intriguing, but you have so much potential to do better."

You could now feel his hand toying with the strand of hair and his grip on your waist grew tighter. You closed your eyes, feeling yourself melt into his delicious scent. Whether you were in any danger or not was the least of your concerns now. "What do you want from me?" You managed to ask.

Hannibal pulled away, looking into your eyes, perhaps even your soul with such a dark and seductive look that you had to physically keep yourself from jumping onto him. "I would like you for dinner. Tomorrow night. I'm very curious of just who you are exactly."

You moved away from him, grabbing your coat, but your eyes never left him. "How did you know it was me?"

Hannibal smirked. "I didn't."