Title: Untitled
Author: Bekah Draeger
Fandom: Silence of the Lambs
Summary: A series of meetings.
Notes: Takes place before SOTL.
The first time I saw him, I was at a concert with my husband, Frederick. Frederick was staring into space, absorbed by the music. I was getting restless. The style of music, the sweeping classical lines, didn't suit me. I preferred the fugues, the clashing lines of rhythm growing and coming together in the climax. The controlled chaos of it reminded me of how I felt at times. I was looking at the different people around us when I saw him.
For his part, the stranger was interested in the music, but was not absorbed. I tried to watch him without staring, but he must have felt my presence as he turned. I caught an image of darkly light blue eyes, piercing the semidarkness before I turned to look at the stage once more. I felt a blush rising on my face. I fidgeted and Frederick took notice, coming out of his trance. He looked quizzically at me, his dark brown eyes absorbing the meager light.
His eyes, the softness I had fallen in love with 20 years before, suddenly seemed dank and dull. I thought I could feel the creeping presence of the stranger still watching me, but when I turned to look, he was again watching the concert.
After the concert, there was a great milling about, the audience mingling with the orchestra, greeting each other. I tried to keep myself from scanning the crowd for the face that belonged to those eyes, but it was fighting a losing battle. Luckily, Frederick was deep in conversation with one of the clarinet players. A player himself, Frederick was discussing the difficulty of the first piece of the evening.
I felt a light touch on my arm and I turned. I was face-to-face with the stranger. His height was about equal to my own and he was slender, but had a powerful presence that made him seem taller than he was. I felt a red-hot pebble drop into my stomach and warm my body. The eyes I had noticed before locked onto mine and never wavered.
"Good evening. I noticed you and your husband enjoying the concert. It was quite a long one, to be sure." His voice was a rich baritone and had a slight accent that I couldn't place. He took his eyes off of me and directed them over my shoulder. I turned to find Frederick watching us.
"My name is Hannibal. Might I be so bold as to ask yours?" He bowed slightly as he asked, the pinnacle of politeness. I felt the second blush of the evening rising on my cheeks.
"I'm Alyssa," I said, offering my hand. To my surprise, the man who called himself Hannibal took my hand and raised it to his lips. I stood, rooted to the spot as he did this, flattered. I had not received this sort of attention since Frederick.
As though on cue, Frederick appeared at my side. I glanced at him and Hannibal released my hand.
"Oh, excuse me," I said, feeling heat in my face once again. "This is my husband, Frederick. Frederick, this is Hannibal. We just met." Frederick's eyes narrowed as they flitted between us.
"I see," he said in his deep bass voice. I cringed at the inflection. He was upset. "If you will excuse us, I need to have a word with my wife." Frederick was being rude and he knew it. He gripped my shoulder tightly and steered me away.
"Frederick, I don't know why you're so upset. You know how boring these little get-togethers after the concerts are to me. At least now I may have someone to talk to." I said, trying hard to resist the impulse to glance behind me. There was nothing about Hannibal to suggest he was a bad person, and there was no discernible reason for Frederick to be making such a fuss.
"I'll tell you why. There is no reason for you to be behaving like a giggling school girl in public, especially here. You know I want these people to think highly of me, it's the only way for me to get into the orchestra. Now please, if you think you can behave yourself, I'd like to go talk to Samuel some more." He left me standing there, feeling like a fool. I tucked a strand of my long dark hair behind my ear and turned around.
There stood Hannibal, deep in conversation with a small group of people. I sighed and meant to walk away, but stood there instead. I gazed at him, wondering why I would feel drawn to him. He was, like me, average in most aspects. The most striking things about him were his eyes and voice. He could be a fantastic hypnotist with that voice, I thought to myself. Perhaps that is why I am still standing here, thinking about him.
I shrugged and with effort, turned and walked to Frederick's side. But a part of me stayed there, watching Hannibal with rapt attention.
Weeks passed and I paid little conscious attention to the memory of the night I had met Hannibal. I went about my duties in the house automatically. I cooked, I cleaned and I chased the cats out of the kitchen before I went out. But sometimes, when I sat and gazed out of the front room window, I would think of the man I had met at the concert, how his lips had brushed against my knuckles and I would smile. More often than not, I would shake myself out of this state and get on with life, but on this day, I indulged myself a few moments to think on him.
I was brought abruptly back to reality by the doorbell. I stood and crossed the hardwood floor to answer the door. I peered through the peephole and, to my utter amazement, it was Hannibal.
I resisted the impulse to throw open the door and rush to him. Instead, I opened the door halfway.
"Yes?"
"Good afternoon, I was passing by and thought you might like some company. Do you remember me from the concert?" Crisp and clean speech, bright eyes and a slight smile were his weapons and he wielded them well. I felt a lightness in my chest and decided in a moment.
"Of course, come in," I backed up and opened the door the rest of the way. He entered, his gait as regular and well-timed as his speech. I watched him move for a moment and then closed the door and locked it.
"I regret terribly if I caused you any trouble with your husband. It was not my intention, I assure you." He settled onto the opposite end of the love seat I sat on as though it were as well tailored for him as the clothes he wore. I had the feeling he could settle into any situation with that kind of ease.
"Oh, no, Frederick.. he just likes to look out for me. He thinks that any man who speaks to me is going to take advantage of me, take me away from him. Kind of childish, don't you agree?" As I spoke, he watched me. I found myself blushing again. This man, I thought to myself, he has some sort of gift for making me blush. Frederick didn't even do that to me.
"Yes, I would agree. I guarantee you," he said, continuing to look me in the eyes with that unwavering intensity. "If I wanted to take you away from him, it would be apparent." As he spoke the last word, his hand touched mine. I started, but recovered quickly. To my surprise, I let him take my hand.
He raised my hand to his lips and this time the kiss lingered. The lightness I had felt upon seeing him framed in my doorway gave way to a pressure that threatened to consume me. I felt something I was not familiar with at all, something I had never experianced before. I wanted to be possessed by this man. I wanted him to completely claim me as his own.
He must have seen some reflection of this in my eyes as he let go of my hand and put his under my chin. The pressure in my body continued to rise as he got closer until I could smell him, an earthy smell that made the hunger-pressure rise even further. When we kissed, it was not a kiss of equals, his mouth claimed mine and took what it pleased. I found myself leaning into him, even to the point of unbalance. I wanted to give him all of me, to lose myself in him. He sensed the tension in my body and put his hands on my back and pulled me forward past the point of unbalance to where I was allowing him to support me completely.
I had given myself over to the moment so totally that I didn't hear the lock turn in the door. I felt Hannibal's kiss change, it became deeper, more sensual. He ran his hands through my hair and put his hands at the base of my skull. He lightly pulled on my hair until I brought my head up to stop the pressure on my scalp. His eyes flashed as he started kissing my neck, lightly at first then with almost a hunger.
"Is it apparent yet?" His deep-throated whisper masked the creak of the door. His lips brushed against my ear and I closed my eyes. I heard footsteps start into the room and then stop. Something fell to the floor.
My eyes flew open and the first thing I saw was Hannibal's bright eyes and the smile on his face that seemed strange, given the situation. The eyes switched focus from me to somewhere behind me. He eased me back onto the couch and quickly stood up, and strode to Frederick, as though meeting on the street.
"Ah, Frederick, is it not?" He approached the situation with the ease that I had predicted earlier. I sat, dumbstruck for so many reasons and tried to not look at either of them.
"Well, I suppose I will be going now. Good-bye, my dear, I will see you around, I imagine." He said casually, his eyes catching mine as he gave my hand a quick brush with his lips. "Good day," he nodded to Frederick, who was standing there like a very lifelike statue, his briefcase open on the floor.
I exhaled as the door closed behind Hannibal. The statue did the same. Then he went over and sat in the rocking chair that faced the love seat. He sat with his head in his hands.
My eyes glazed over as I settled back into the love seat and thought about what had happened. I could still taste Hannibal, hear his voice in my ear. Frederick's voice brought me out of my momentary reverie with a start.
"I just have one question for you. Why him? What-" he choked and looked at me, tears in his brown eyes.
"I don't know," I replied, honestly. I mentally went over the encounter at the concert and the one this day and tried to come up with a concrete reason for what attracted me to him. His voice echoed in my mind and eyes flashed. I was sinking back into him on the couch and drinking in his presence while giving up my own. The thought about wanting to be possessed came back to me and I chewed on it for a time. "It doesn't make any sense-" I started to speak my thoughts but cut myself off.
"What? Alyssa, we swore when we got married we'd be honest with each other. Of course, we-" Now he cut himself short and I mentally finished the sentence for him: Of course, we promised other things, too. Referring, of course, to the vow to be faithful. It was my turn to hide my face.
The adrenaline rush from the encounter with Hannibal was beginning to wear off and I was feeling tired, guilty and cold. And yet, a part of me was gleefully dancing. I shivered. Frederick, showing his colors as a true husband, crossed the hardwood floor, sat next to me and took me in his arms. I leaned my head on his chest and closed my eyes.
A tear leaked out from my closed eyes and Frederick wiped it away. He must have thought it came from some guilt or shame on my part. In truth, it came from the knowledge that I would never feel the same way about Frederick or his attentions. Nothing would ever be the same again.
Several months passed before we were able to be close. I put it off, not knowing how I would react to it. I told Frederick a whole litany of reasons, and in his defense, I think he knew what was happening inside of me and gave me the time I needed.
As I lay there afterwards, all I could think of was what could have happened if he hadn't walked in on Hannibal and me. I heard Frederick coming out of the bathroom and I quickly turned on my side, trying to act like I was asleep. He kissed me on the cheek and turned his back to me. I didn't move until his breath regulated.
I slipped out of bed and went into the front room and sat on the love seat. I gazed out the window at the inky blackness and sighed. I strained to hear something, anything that might indicate he was coming.
In the morning, Frederick found me on the love seat. He was not angry, just disappointed, he said. He said I should go for a walk, try to sort things out. I took a quick shower and dressed. Frederick was on the phone when I left, but he waved good-bye.
The day was beautiful, a herald of spring. The trees that bore fruit were ablaze in blossoms and the air was fragrant. My eyes registered this, but my mind was numb. Frederick had once suggested some kind of therapy, but I resisted it. The last thing we wanted, I told him, was someone else knowing about my infidelity.
A slight breeze greeted me, made my long hair stream out behind me. I stopped at the park near our house and sat one of the benches. I didn't look at anyone passing me, other than their feet. I sat there for a time, until the shadows had changed.
I stood and dragged myself back to the house. I opened the door and walked into the front room and stopped dead.
While I was gone, Frederick had disposed of the love seat.
I surprised myself by being angry at him. He had taken the one physical remnant of that afternoon.
"Frederick!" I yelled for him, as he wasn't in sight. With a light step, he appeared. "What the hell did you do that for?" I said in a forced calm, pointing to where the love seat had been.
He sighed and took from the drawer in the roll top desk an envelope. He stared at it a moment before handing it to me. I didn't recognize the handwriting, but it was meticulous and beautiful. I glanced at Frederick and slit open the flap. In it were two tickets for the Vivaldi concert that night. I stared at them and then looked at Frederick, bewildered.
"This is why you got rid of the love seat?" I asked, incredulous. The two incidents seemed unrelated. My depressed brain chugged along until the parts settled into place. Oh...
"Oh, my God," I said aloud. I hoped it came off as slightly fearful, not as though the pressure was returning to my chest just at the thought of seeing Hannibal again.
"Do you want to go, Alyssa?" Frederick asked with forced calm, leaving the decision up to me. I wanted to break into a grin and shout 'Yes!' but I restrained myself.
"I'm sure it would be enjoyable, I like Vivaldi. You could talk to Samuel again, plus, it has been a while since we've gone to a concert. I think we should go." For full measure, I put extra emphasis on the word 'we'.
"I have to work late tonight. But, if you want to go, go. I can't, I won't do anything to stop you. All I ask is that you be careful. I get the feeling he can be a dangerous man if he doesn't get what he wants." Frederick put on his coat as he spoke, and walked out the door, closing it with a definitive click after him.
Feeling suddenly full of energy, I tackled the house cleaning. During a break, I stared into my closet, wondering what to wear. I decided on a pale blue dress, one of my favorites. I laid it out on the bed and checked my watch. The concert was at 7, and it was now close to 5.
I took a shower, washing my hair carefully. I dried it off and put it into several loose braids. I slipped into the dress and gazed at the results in the mirror. Satisfied, I put some low heels on, knowing I would have to walk to and from the concert hall. It was only 5 blocks, but still, that's 5 blocks in heels. I locked the door after myself and headed to the hall. I was going to reach it about a half an hour early, but that was all right. Most people got there early.
The seats, to my surprise, were close to the stage. I chose the one that was one removed from the aisle. I busied myself with examining the program until someone sat in the aisle seat.
"Good evening, Alyssa. Where is Frederick? Not working too hard, I do hope," said the immediately recognizable voice of Hannibal. I looked into his eyes and was taken with him all over again.
"Yes, he works far too much for my tastes. I never know when he'll be home."
"Pity. Ah, we're about to start." He directed his attention to the stage.
The elegant music began, and swept me away. I closed my eyes and reveled in the memories the music brought. Sitting with my father, learning to play the piano, but not being very good at it and his laughter. Never at me or my failing, just at the situation. Somehow I knew the distinction. The cadence of the music took me to my first meeting with Frederick. We met through a mutual friend in high school. He was very charming, but distant. We dated for a year before he proposed to me. I had, obviously, accepted. That was 17 years ago. I was 36 now, and still not a mother. The music came to a graceful end, and it was intermission.
Hannibal stood and offered a hand. I took it, stood and arched my back, stretching.
"Take your coat," he whispered. "We shall go for a walk." We wove through the crowd and exited the auditorium. We were greeted by a still, cool night with a perfectly clear sky and the stars glittering down upon us.
"Come," he said, offering an arm. I took it and we walked away from the crowd. He was silent, apparently taking in the surroundings. His breathing was deep and regular, that of sleep. I regulated my breath and step to match his.
We reached the darkening park, the same bench I had sat brooding on earlier in the day. I sat, and he joined me.
"I thought it might be nice to get away from the crowd," he said. "Spend some time alone together. It has been too long," he whispered the last so quietly I had to lean in close to him to hear the words.
"Frederick-" I began, trying to keep my composure, but Hannibal cut me off.
"Is not here. Only we are, and that is all that matters." The stars that glinted in his eyes gave him the look of an ancient soothsayer. He leaned close and whispered in my ear. "Answer me this, honestly now, do you think much on what happened?" The bright eyes found mine and held them tight. Without thinking about repercussions, I replied.
"Yes, I think about it every day."
"Do you think about what might have happened?" The gaze pierced my soul, splayed it wide for him to see. Still, he did not blink.
"Yes," I said softly, wanting to look away, but transfixed.
"Yes, I imagine you do. Did you know, had it happened that your husband had stayed late at work, stopped for a drink, had allowed us enough time, everything would have happened that is in your mind," he said in that intoxicating whisper.
Something snapped inside me. I had to have him. No matter the cost.
"He will be home now or soon, it is not safe to go back," I said softly, still transfixed by those eyes. A smile flashed across his face, some would have said it was the smile of a madman, I don't know. Perhaps it was, but it was gone in a moment and all that was left before me was Hannibal rising and giving me his hand again.
"Then come, we shall go to another place." With my hand tucked safely under his arm, we set off.
I felt like I was floating, out of space and time. My feet moved without thought. All I could feel was the strength of Hannibal's arm and the rhythm of his step and breathing.
"Almost there, now. Just a bit further," came the voice, close to my ear. "Are you certain about wanting to do this? You can back out now, but I'm not so sure that I'd let you go later."
I nodded, incapable of speech at the moment. All I knew was that I wanted, no, needed to be with Hannibal.
We stopped at the door of a beautiful Victorian house. I looked up at the stars as he fiddled with his keys. Always the gentleman, he held the door for me. With the same kind of definitive click that Frederick had exited with earlier that day, Hannibal entered the room and closed the door behind him.
We faced each other in the dark hallway, a few feet apart for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. He stepped closer to me, eyes lost in the shadows.
"One last chance, Alyssa. If you want to go, go now," he said, powerful voice nearly echoing in the hall.
"No, I want to stay," I found myself saying. "I want to be with you."
Quickly, with the speed and grace of a panther, he crossed the feet between us. He put both hands on the back of my neck and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around him and returned the kiss.
Effortlessly, he picked me up and took me to a bedroom. The ease with which he lifted me belied great strength in his slender form.
He laid me down on the bed gently and leaned over me. Even in the darkness, I could sense his eyes, feel their intensity. It was unnerving and yet satisfying. My eyes felt heavy, like they had weights attached to them. The last thing I saw before I lost consciousness was the glint of light of Hannibal's eyes hovering above me.
When I opened my eyes, sunlight was streaming through the high windows. I squinted in the light and rolled over on my left side, trying to hide from the light. My head was pounding and I felt groggy. I tried to orient myself, but I couldn't remember how I had gotten here, or even where here was. I heard familiar footsteps, muffled by carpet. The door gently swung open and Hannibal entered. He moved in odd, jerky slow motion. I realized that it was my brain that was changing the motions. I blinked repeatedly, trying to clear my head.
"What-" I swallowed, mouth feeling dry and cottony. "What happened?" I tried to focus but it was difficult and made my head pound worse. I closed my eyes again, sank my head into the cool comfort of the pillow.
"I'm afraid I can't let you leave right now. You're in no condition to go anywhere." He set down a tray of food in front of me. I lifted my head and looked at it for a moment and let my head drop back. Just the sight of food made my stomach churn.
"Oh, I can't, I feel like I've come down with the flu. I'm sorry," I whispered, it was the only level of voice that didn't cause pain to shoot throughout my head. I moaned and put a hand on my head to test my temperature. My hand felt clammy, but my head hot. Yeah, I thought, definitely the flu. And what a time to get it, too. Try explaining that to Frederick. Uh, yeah, I'm in bed sick at the man's house you told me to stay away from. That sounds good.
"I'm sure you will feel better soon. Just get some more rest, Alyssa. I'll come check on you soon." He removed the tray and set it on the floor at the foot of the bed. He exited the room as quietly as he had entered.
Alone again, I looked around the room. In the sunlight, I could see the walls were a pale blue, with the wood around the windows highlighted a darker blue. I felt a slight breeze and looked up. The source of the breeze was a beautiful, ornate ceiling fan. I tried to sit up but found moving difficult. It was like trying to swim through fully set Jell-O. I watched the fan for a time and dropped off to sleep again.
In my dreams, figures came in and out of focus, their words echoing strangely, as though in water. I was flying over fields of green, then climbing up through the azure sky, nearly touching the clouds. Suddenly, I plummeted. I was falling, falling to the fields beneath me that were nothing more than patches in a quilt. I tried to twist and turn like a cat, figure out which was the best position to land in, what would hurt the least. I was screaming, thrashing about as I fell.
Suddenly, I jerked awake. My head didn't hurt anymore, but I was covered by a cold sweat, presumably from my dream. I opened my eyes, sensing a pressure on the bed. The light had changed, setting harsh shadows upon the face of Hannibal. He watched me, no expression on his face.
"What time is it?" I groaned, pushing my hair out of my face. I tried to sit up again and was able to, if I leaned against the headboard.
"Afternoon. Are you feeling better?" He said, vaguely. The eyes were different, colder. They gazed upon me with a distant air. Like I was a rat in an interesting maze. This creeped me out. Suddenly I wanted to leave, to put distance between us.
"Don't worry, I'm sure your husband will be here soon. He may not be brilliant, but he's capable of putting the pieces I've laid together." As though on cue, there was a harsh knocking on the front door. He winked at me, the first expression since I had awakened and went to answer the door.
Suddenly there were voices in the hall, one calm, one shouting. Immediately, I recognized the angry voice. Frederick. I sank back to the bed, resting my head back on the pillow. What he was going to think, seeing me in Hannibal's house? I didn't have much time to wonder.
Frederick entered the room on the heels of Hannibal. I couldn't look in his brown eyes, I was too ashamed.
"She isn't very strong at the moment, I'm afraid." He said, with a quiet laughter in his voice. I saw Frederick's eyes switch from me to Hannibal. Color rose in his face, and he launched himself at him.
Hannibal turned quickly and grabbed Frederick by the throat. He put his face an inch from Frederick's and smiled.
"Now, we can't have that," he hissed, and threw Frederick bodily into a wooden, straight back chair in the corner of the room. Casually, he restrained Frederick while he cuffed and tied him to the chair. He then dragged the chair, with the man attached, into the stream of light next to the bed. "Much better, wouldn't you say?"
I stared at Hannibal and couldn't see how this was the same person who kissed me in my house. He must have felt my stare and raised his head. His eyes met mine and a jolt of electricity went through me.
"Now, how shall we proceed? Your choice, Frederick. I could.." he trailed off as he approached me, and let a finger trace down my cheek. I felt the pressure rise again, but tried to fight it. His blue eyes locked onto mine as he leaned close and kissed me lightly on the lips. Almost involuntarily, I leaned into the kiss.
"No!" Frederick shouted suddenly, straining against the chair. "No, stop, I'll do anything, anything you want."
Hannibal stood suddenly and looked at Frederick, head cocked to one side in curiosity.
"Really?" His voice was dangerous.
"Yes, anything. Just don't hurt her," Frederick sounded close to tears now.
"You would give your own life to save her dignity? Be honest now, Frederick." His voice was barely a whisper, yet every word was distinct.
"Yes," came the voice, I turned to see Frederick, sitting bound, with his head down, tears dropping onto his pants. "Yes, I would." He raised his head to look at Hannibal. His face was streaked with tears.
"Ah, you see, this is what is so interesting about people. You would give your life for something intangible, your lovely wife's dignity. Something that you can't see, feel or smell." He shook his head, like he was disappointed in something, all the while rooting in the top drawer of a desk. "Well, your choice."
In one swift motion, he reached across, grabbed Frederick's hair, pulled his head back and slashed his throat. Turning around, he dragged the chair back to its original position, the dark corner. The trail of blood was shining in the shadows. I turned away from the scene and wanted to cry.
"And what about you," he asked, acting as though he had done nothing other than swat a fly. He walked over to me and leaned down to whisper in my ear once again. "Do you still want to be with me?"
I looked into those striking blue eyes glittering a few inches before me and was hit with an intense feeling of indecision. I turned away, trying to work out my emotions, but Hannibal grabbed my face and forced it back to his.
"I think I deserve an answer, don't you?" His voice was harsh and his eyes like ice.
I opened my mouth but no sound came out. I didn't know what to do. If I said no, he'd likely send me to join my husband. If I said yes, he might do the same, anyway. May as well just toss the coin.
"Yes, I do." I said, hoping that he would spare my life for a time, at least. His face lit up in what can only be described as an ironic smile.
He walked over to the corner and patted Frederick's head. It wobbled strangely, and Hannibal spoke to it.
"Well, dear, departed Frederick, it looks like you gave your life in vain. So much for your precious wife's dignity, hmm?" He slanted his gaze back to me as he spoke.
I closed my eyes, wishing that when I opened them, I would be back in my own bed, with Frederick alive and beside me. When I opened them, Hannibal was standing over me once more.
"Even though you say you wish to be with me, I don't believe you. And since you have witnessed this," he gestured towards the limp form in the chair. "I cannot just let you go." His eyes wandered across the room for a moment before snapping back to me.
"I do admit to a certain sense of attachment to you, Alyssa," he whispered, a very real pain evident in his eyes. "You remind me of someone I lost long ago." He stopped suddenly and looked away.
I felt a pang of sympathy.
"Were they - was she - close to-" I was cut off by his hand across my mouth. His eyes were livid, aflame like torches. Apparently, I had crossed some invisible line, though I failed to understand why talking about a death, even that of someone close, would be so painful.
Hannibal closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, the fire behind them was gone. He took his hand away.
"Even so, I cannot justify letting you go. However, I believe you do require a touch more finesse than displayed with Frederick."
As he went on to explain, he was going to inject me with a powerful narcotic. When the effects fully hit me, he would give me an overdose of the same. He said it would be painless and at first even pleasurable.
He left the room. I looked up at the ornate fan, still now. A few hot tears fell down my cheeks. Faced with my mortality, I realized there were many things I regretted. But, I reminded myself, that what life was. Regrets about things done and things avoided. Nothing about living was an exact science.
Hannibal came back into the room, a syringe in hand and an odd expression on his face. His eyes were hard and determined, but his face held traces of sadness.
"Are you ready?" He asked, tying a length of rubber hosing around my upper arm.
"I--" I choked on my words.
He said nothing further as he injected the solution into my vein. It was cold, like ice water pouring on my arm.
"My legs," I murmured as I lost sensation in my lower body and then, a heartbeat later, in my upper body. "I can't-" I was floating, felt totally suspended in air.
I was only half aware of Hannibal's face above mine. I couldn't feel his lips against mine or the prick of the needle in my arm.
As I lost consciousness, the last thing I saw was a solitary tear glistening as it rolled down Hannibal's face.