A/N: I only own the idea. When I couldn't sleep last night this scenario played out in my mind. Let's see if it's actually as good when I attempt to write it out.
The shift had been a gradual one. Freedom had at first been liberating. Having the ability to once again look upon whatever his eye desired, instead of live through his memories had held an enchanting sway. Time, however, dulled its splendor and as the months turned to years Hannibal couldn't ignore the feeling that something was missing.
More often than not the halls of his mind castle hummed with the sound of her voice. To many nights he would wake from dreams with the feeling of her lips against his own. Frustration with the young agent had enforced his distance. That very same distance it seemed had been gradually chipping away at his focus. These days her face blocked out even the most splendid of views.
It was only when the shift became a tipping point that he found himself returning to her. This in itself made his instinct of preservation kick in to overdrive. He was playing with fire coming close to Clarice but he found he was willing to risk the burn. Had he known what he was about to walk in on perhaps he would have put aside his longing and continued to maintain his self-imposed distance.
His mind ran circles as he made the journey to the small duplex. Given the late hour he figured she would be sleeping. He wondered if he would be able to pacify his longing by simply looking upon her face. Always polite he aired on the side of caution and procured a bottle of wine as an offering. She had surprised him before with her fierceness. Perhaps she fought her sleep the way he fought his emotions.
Silence when he entered. The smell of blood in the air. He noted the acceleration of his heart rate as he briskly walked through rooms of little importance. The smell grew stronger now. In his mind the cries of his sister pierced through empty corridors. Was this the blooming of panic?
When he came to her bedroom the bottle slipped from his hand. The scent of red wine mixed with the coppery aroma of Clarice's blood. The shattering of the bottle was muffled by the heart beat roaring in Hannibal's ears. She was to still.
His shoes crunched on the glass. He paid it little mind. His throat felt clogged from the overwhelming scents of savagery that lay before him. With little thought he found himself checking for a pulse. Faint under his fingertips. How many times had she been stabbed? Who had done this? Where were they now? His temples throbbed in time with his own rapid pulse.
She coughed. Blood on her lips. Her eyes were not as vibrant as they had been the last time they had found his. Always bullheaded she attempted to move. He shook his head firmly. Hannibal felt a strange type of detachment settle over him as he surveyed the damage to her body.
"han…" His name cut short by coughing that shook her frame. So small he thought, as he applied pressure to the wound that was spilling her life out. He felt a tear slide down his cheek as he saw her wince in pain. Fumbling with his other hand he pulled his phone from his pocket.
"What?" always curious he thought. He ignored her questioning as he dialed. As he spoke she had attempted to sit up again. Tears of frustration fell down her own cheeks. Her eyes might not have been as vibrant, but the anger he felt directed at him still seared his skin. He shook his head in an attempt to silence her.
A shaky breath, way to crackly with blood he thought. "Why would you call them!" She had meant to yell, he guessed, but it had only come from her as a shaky whisper. "You need to go. I can't do this again."
"You won't be doing anything again if I release this pressure. Who?" His words were direct and void of the panic he felt in his chest. He had just wrapped the rope around his own neck. He hadn't even stopped to give it a second thought. The good ol boys were on the way as her blood slid between his fingers. Annoyed at the situation he doubled the pressure and added his other hand, dropping the phone.
"Didn't recognize, ow! You need to go." She still fought for his freedom. Did she realize the irony in the situation? "If they are on the way, I'll be okay, go."
He shook his head. "Do you realize how hard these past years have been? I have been all around the world, seen all the things I had been deprived of for so long, and yet this was the one I've wanted. What good is a view when it's void of vibrancy? I told you the world is a better place with you in it that applies to my world as well. I will not let you slip away from me." As he spoke he continued to press in to her. He ignored the impulse to run and the ache in his arms.
"You're selfish," she said. She could hear the wail of sirens in the distance. "I've spent my time going through the motions with your voice in my mind. Telling myself letting you go was better than the anguish of keeping you captive. Now you come here and willingly serve yourself to them for my benefit. I can't do this again Hannibal. I can't pretend like…" She became more animated in her speech and again coughs racked her. As she struggled to catch her breath more blood pulsed through his fingers. "Damn it!" Her voice was flat with exhaustion and defeat.
"This wasn't exactly how I hoped to find you. This isn't the last way I intend to see you. Things will work out, but not if you're not alive for them to do so."
"You don't realize how difficult it was for me. How draining it was to fight my feelings against my morals and let you go. You don't know how impossible it's been for me to keep my head above water with your ghost always on my back. Why would you turn yourself in? Why don't you go? I can't stay uninvested in you when you're right here. I can't see you behind glass again when I want to be touching you. I didn't think you would come back. Please don't do this to me again."
"Again? It appears my dear; your perceived transparency to me is anything but. Your hardly the open book that you think you are to me. You fooled Jack, and you fooled me. Had I the slightest idea of your plight I would have returned to you much sooner. The circumstances are the issue at hand. I will go with them, you will be cared for. The rest will follow. Trust me in that."
"I'll try." The sirens were right outside now. "Come here." Her hands were sticky with her blood as she lightly touched his cheek. "I'm cold." Fingers shook from the surprising amount of effort it took to hold them up. Her hand dropped back down as she began to tremble.
The chaos of a door being opened with too much force. The rapid approach of heavy foot falls. Would they tell him to put up his hands? Circumstances would force him to not comply. Would they shoot? Beneath his hands he felt Clarice tense as she trembled.