Chapter Text
Hannibal has never considered himself an impulsive man. Well, that is not entirely true. He can be very impulsive, but only on rare occasions.
She was one of those occasions.
It had been dark and muggy even out in the woods as they were. Hannibal had been going about his own business when it had happened. At times like these he considered reawakening the Chesapeake Ripper. He was fond of those displays and it might improve his current wares greatly. A dull man he had encountered several years back who had spoken quite rudely to a woman he was on a date to the opera with. The poor girl was too flustered to defend herself against the man’s humiliating words, but Hannibal was able to step in and disentangle her from the situation while also getting the man’s information.
The spot he had picked for disposal was distant from the city but close enough to a hiking trail that if he were ever found it would be assumed he had gotten lost and had died of exposure. The local wildlife would no doubt get to him before any authority so the missing organs would not look suspicious.
It was supposed to be a brief outing, with Hannibal merely disposing of the body then leaving, but then he saw her. It was dark and he could only make out so much of her features from the beam of her flashlight, but he could make out her form and more importantly the bodies. He deliberately made noise to draw attention to himself. She whirled to face him. He pointed his own flashlight at her at the same time she pointed hers at him. The woman had straightened to her full height, shorter than Hannibal, but not by much. Her hair was in several small braids that fell into her face. She was a pretty girl in her twenties, wearing a long sleeve shirt and a jacket tied around her waist both covered in blood. She had stared at him with calculating eyes, not shying away or making fumbling excuses about the four dead men at her feet.
They stood in silence as Hannibal inspected the scene, dropping his light from her face to the shine around the surrounding area. She had not dragged them there. The men were all bigger than her in some way, two by height, two by width and though she was not a small woman Hannibal doubted she could have carried them all here with no help and no equipment without being noticed. Two of the had been stabbed multiple times in the chest and abdomen, one had been shot a few times, and the last looked beaten. The beaten one had still been breathing, in a labored fashion.
He shined the light back at her face.
“What?” she had said flippantly. “Is this, like, your spot or whatever?”
* * * * * * * * *
Hannibal had taken her home that night after watching her dispose of her bodies. She had noted his plastic suit and asked if his body was hidden nearby.
“I don’t want us to clash,” she had said.
In the end, she had just cleaned up evidence she had been there and left it at that.
Once at his house, he had fed her and asked no questions. She had eaten, putting the meat into her mouth then frowning at him as she chewed.
“Huh,” she said looking down at what he had given her. She squinted at the ‘pork’, looked back at him then shrugged and continued her meal.
Hannibal remained surprised that he hadn’t killed her as he led her to a guest bedroom with a full bath and offered to wash her clothes while she cleaned up. She rejected the idea.
“Should probably burn them.”
Instead, she had worn some of his clothes that night, a pajama set with the striped pants rolled at the ankles and the shirt rolled at the wrists. She ended up sitting with him in his study with her long braids drying in a towel, long shapely legs folded under her as she lounged on his couch.
“So,” Hannibal had said, “what now?”
* * * * * * * * *
She had him between her legs, kneeling on the carpet, tasting her and listening to her moan out “Good boy” while clenching at his hair.
So yes, on very rare occasions, Hannibal could be very, very impulsive.
* * * * * * * * *
She had him between her legs again when she explained how she had gotten into such a situation in the first place. It was in his bed, what would soon enough become their bed, with the morning sun rays just touching the air. She stroked his head like he was a pet and all he could do was nuzzle against her belly.
She had been married, briefly and suddenly, to a man several years her senior, even more than Hannibal. They had not loved each other.
“Not like that at least,” she had said, running her fingers through Hannibal’s hair with a tenderness he hadn’t experienced in years.
“We weren’t in love,” she reiterated wistfully. Perhaps, Hannibal thought, she had wanted to be.
He had died. He had left her everything.
“They wanted to contest the will,” she had said. “They would have succeeded.”
Now they would be eaten by worms. A waste of meat, truly, but sometimes nothing can be done.
Hannibal had hummed against her dark skin, licking at her navel. “So,” he had said. “What now?”
* * * * * * * * *
She decided to be his friend and Hannibal brought her into his public life almost immediately. They told no one of their intimate connection. Not for any particular reason. It wasn’t unheard of for rich men like Hannibal to be involved with pretty young things like her. No one would think it odd, even if they found it unusually for Hannibal.
But it also wasn’t unheard of for Hannibal to take a professional interest in a young person. He did it every so often, it was a good way to sew his influence into various places. He’d offer mentorship, networking opportunities, personalized references that would allow some youthful oddity to advance in their career of choice. A classical pianist here, an aspiring med student there. He was a patron of young hopefuls.
So she was seen by his side and assumed to be one of those. She took to it well, entering high society like a swan to water, making her own connections so efficiently, Hannibal doubted she truly needed him at all.
Every so often, at an event, she would peek back at him over her shoulder with eyes that wanted him to drop to his knees right there in front of everyone. He very nearly did. Instead, he waited until she would drag him to a dark corner, or into an empty bathroom, or push him to the floor of the box he had reserved at the opera, her legs going over his shoulders with a “good boy” whispered.
They got along splendidly. Hannibal was impulsive once again as he moved her into his home before the year was out. He found himself on his knees more than he ever would have expected. It was a desire he tied solely to her. For a while at least.
* * * * * * * * *
One day, he came home, feeling odd.
She did work as a translator of books, speaking several languages herself. It was a profession that gained her notoriety amongst Hannibal’s friends and flexibility in her own life.
Her schedule was mostly her own and she could work from anywhere as long as she could travel on occasion for in person meetings. He allowed her use of his home office which was where he found her that day. She had glanced briefly at him as she accepted his greeting before going back to her work, noticing his strange mood but not forcing any issue.
He went about his own routine of making their evening meal and setting the table before bringing it up.
“I’ve met someone,” he said.
She paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. She set it back down and quirked an eyebrow at Hannibal. “Should I be jealous?”
“Perhaps,” he said honestly. Then he told her about Will Graham.
* * * * * * * * *
Hannibal found himself being far more… curious than usual lately. First her, now Will Graham. He was out of sorts.
After orphaning the young Abigail, Hannibal returned home and told her that he believed Will Graham could be a friend. Perhaps…
“Do you want him?” She asked while he was inside her. She felt wonderful. He had made her climax twice before she permitted his entrance into her body. He shivered at the feeling of her hands over his shoulders and back and along his ass.
“Like this, I mean,” she said. “Do you want him?”
He hadn’t answered. He was worshiping her right now even as he thought of the blood speckled on Will’s glasses.
* * * * * * * * *
They had killed his secretary together some time ago. Or rather, she had killed the woman, and he had helped with the clean up. Now, she helped out when she could, taking over administrative duties, but would at no point: “Indulge any kinky secretary fantasies. We can screw in your office, but leave that kind of role play out of it”.
Though she had missed Jack Crawford barreling into Hannibal’s life, her temping granted her her first look at the famed Will Graham. And her second when he came back looking distraught. He was pretty enough, she supposed, a bit twitchy and hunched in on himself, but in an attractive way. He was polite in a clumsy way, announcing himself as he looked at the pictures on the wall then thanking her as he shuffled into the office. She couldn’t see anything about him that would hold Hannibal’s attention which held her own attention.
Helping her boyfriend also gave her her first look at Freddie Lounds, masquerading as one Ms. Samantha Temple.
She excused herself to the bathroom at one point with a friendly smile, while leaving her phone to discreetly record the woman where she sat near the door, and the screen of her computer to record what happened on it.
She hung out in the bathroom for a good fifteen minutes before returning, making sure to make plenty of noise. She smiled at Ms. Temple and retook her seat, reviewing the computer footage silently. Not much, just some poking around to see if she could find the client information, which was under password. When Will’s appointment was set to end, she got up.
“I hope you don’t mind me leaving you alone again,” she said. “I just have some paperwork that Dr. Lecter has to look over real quick.”
Ms. Temple, of course, did not mind.
Hannibal wanted to kiss her when she entered but a stern look got him to back off. Her lipstick wasn’t as smear proof as she’d prefer. He settled for feeling her up over her clothes as she chatted.
“Your next patient is waiting, Ms. Temple.”
Hannibal hummed his acknowledgement, palming her butt.
“Who is actually Freddie Lounds and was recording your session with Will while I was ‘in the bathroom’.”
He paused a moment then slid a hand over one of her breasts. “Very rude, Miss Lounds. What shall we do about that?”
“Nothing at the moment, I think.”
“I agree.” His hands squeezed, making her roll her eyes. “Maybe this would be a good time for you to reach out to Will. If you are quick, you might catch him before he drives off.”
She gave a questioning look then nodded.
She did catch Will after showing Lounds in. He must have stopped at the toilets before leaving.
She found him leaning against the wall of the building, his face covered with shaking hands.
“Mr. Graham?” She called, making him jerk and look up at her with wide eyes. “Sorry. Are you oka-” she stopped that line, he probably wouldn’t appreciate it. She sure wouldn’t. “Um, you might want to take off soon. The patient after you probably won’t be staying long and might take an interest in you.” She couldn’t technically reveal it was Lounds.
He looked up but not at her. “What?” He said.
“I can’t say who, uh…” This… was not as smooth as it was with Hannibal, or literally anyone else. “You don’t look so-You want to get a coffee before you take off? There is a shop around the corner there.” Now he turned to stare at her…chin? “My treat?” She offered with a smile.
He stared at her without looking her in the eyes for an uncomfortably long time in a way that made her feel stripped down and pinned to a board with a line of butterflies all around her.
“I, uh, I don’t know your name.”
She blinked. “Oh, uh, I’m Dara.” She started to put her hand out for him to shake then thought better and put it back down. “Uh, yeah. Coffee?”