Music To My Ears

"Good afternoon."

Alana's voice was a little shaky in her return on the greeting. Hannibal frowned, setting down his pencil and abandoning his sketch.

"Alana, is something wrong?"

"No, not really. I just... Jack was supposed to give me a ride home after my lecture. He got called to a crime scene halfway there."

And she had been dragged along with him. With her car in the shop, she had been using transit and her coworkers as alternate means of getting around. She had only called Hannibal a handful of times for help, not wanting to put any unnecessary obligations on their new relationship.

"Do you want me to come get you?" He leaned back into his desk chair. Alana Bloom had seen a lot during her work, not to mention what she had been exposed to due to his or Will Graham's actions. It had to be a unique circumstance to unsettle her. A chance to help her and see it himself wouldn't be amiss.

"If you don't have any appointments, I would appreciate it."

"As luck would have it, my schedule is clear for the next few hours. Where are you?"

Hannibal parked at the edge of the highway, seeing the police tape and lights from official vehicles not far off. The crime scene was right on the state border. No wonder the FBI had been called. State police would be in a fit over jurisdiction on the case, not that there still wouldn't be a pissing contest on credit for work, if the case was ever solved. He approached slowly, trying to piece together what was happening at the scene, and avoid drawing attention to himself. He had no badge, temporary or otherwise, to flash to anyone official.

Alana appeared before the men in uniform could start asking him why he was loitering. Her arms were tight over her chest, and though part of it might have been to combat the cold, she looked defeated. He silently offered a hug to her shaky smile, and she readily accepted, letting him wrap his arms around her shoulders. She was quiet, pressing her face against his chest and listening for his heartbeat through his coat.

"Sorry." Her words were muffled against the wool.

"No need to be. I'm always happy to hold you."

Alana relaxed in his arms before taking a step back. "Well, that was for the hug, but mostly for coming to get me."

"And I'll repeat myself, there is no need to apologize on either account. You sounded upset on the phone."

"That obvious, huh? It's just." Her arms tightened back around her body. "It's never easy with kids, you know?"

"Yes." There was a very particular reason why she had specialized her studies towards family trauma and child psychology. If it was just a dead child between state lines, he saw no reason to linger. News vans had yet to arrive, which meant the age of the victim had managed to be concealed for the moment, and traffic on the highway hadn't been too interrupted from the police work. Hannibal would ask if she wanted to stay with him rather go home, they could even get an early dinner before-

"Doctor!"

Both of them turned at the sound of Jack Crawford's voice. He waved them over from behind the police line, and from the corner of his eye, Hannibal could see Alana grimace. He brushed his hand along her side as they walked, reminding her of his presence. Normally public displays of affection were at a minimum between them. The hug was a rare exception necessitated by a quick need for emotional support. Of course, after seeing her in nothing but his t-shirt, Hannibal was sure Jack wouldn't blink an eye at anything the two of them would do in public. Though showing off their relationship at a crime scene was hardly appropriate.

"Come to give Alana a ride?"

"Yes." He looked back towards her. "Do you have anything in his car you need to retrieve?"

"My bag."

Jack handed over the keys almost before she finished speaking. "Why don't you go get it while I have a word with Doctor Lecter?"

They were brought on to the other side of the police line, amidst the frowns of the state police. Alana's expression darkened somewhat as she headed off with Jack's keys, likely annoyed he thought she needed protecting.

Hannibal answered the question he knew was coming. "Is there a reason for me to view this scene Jack? Surely if it was something you couldn't handle, you would have called."

Jack's jaw worked a moment, playing out his frustration with Hannibal's phrasing without words. "A second set of eyes never hurt, on any case. And I don't think Alana wants to look at this anymore than she has to."

He followed Jack to the ditch on the side of the highway. "She may not want to, but treating her as if she is incapable will only make her upset with you."

"She's already upset with me."

For suspecting Hannibal, for questioning him in regards to several serial murders. He tamped down the edge of his lip before he could smile.

The snow had been trampled by work boots, turning it into a gray and brown slush. The clean, white, porcelain bathtub stood out all the more since the ground around it had lost its sheen.

"A driver spotted the tub while going down the road, stopped to see if it was worth picking up."

"They found something altogether unpleasant, I imagine."

"A young girl, still unidentified, around three or four years old."

"Signs of abuse?"

The tub looked new, uncracked. There weren't any rings of rust around where pipes would be fixed to it when it was installed. It was turned on its side.

"Yes. While she was still alive. We want to get her back to the lab to do full tests, but I'm getting some resistance from the locals."

"Which locals?"

"Both." Jack scowled in the direction of the uniformed officers.

"Was the tub like this, or did the driver turn it?"

"They put it on its side, she was under."

Her little body was still exposed to the world, the coroners having been given no concrete orders on what to do with the body. At least it wasn't summer, the cold outside would keep the corpse from smelling while the law enforcement played tug of war with the case, or perhaps hot potato, considering the volatile nature of child murder cases.

"A rather hasty attempt at a roadside burial by a construction worker or someone in the middle of repairs."

"The tub is new."

Mischa had had an old fashioned, beaten copper tub the nanny used to bathe her in out in the yard. Hannibal had been washed in the same tub when he was little, though he did not remember it. He remembered his sister in the tub. The way his breath would catch when he was made to watch her in it, and her small, baby fingers would let go of the edge. She was always sitting, and it wasn't deep enough to cover her body, but he always worried she would somehow slip under the water.

"The tub is new," Hannibal repeated, acknowledging that Jack had already come to the same conclusion. "If they had been thinking more clearly, she wouldn't have been so easy to find. If you can't trace the tub, he no doubt left DNA evidence on the girl." A rather open and shut case, especially if their man was already in the system. Once they identified the girl, it wouldn't be surprising if a neighbor or a care worker had been in the middle of renovations. So many of these crimes stayed close to home.

Her cheeks were still baby round, one chubby arm poking out from the blanket covering most of her body. Her hair was wispy and blonde, matted and dirty, but still looking vital next to her ashen skin.

Mischa had bright blonde hair and baby blue eyes. She had never had time to grow into something else, if she ever would have.

Jimmy Price and Brian Zeller walked towards them, field kits in their hands.

"We've done all we can here Jack, we need to get her to the lab if we want to do more, unless it's going to state."

Zeller looked uneasily behind him, letting his coworker do the talking. The scene didn't sit well with him either, yet Jack Crawford had not blinked about sending him to do his work. Alana would be reminded of that. It would be easy to bring up Zeller's discomfort in a later conversation. She would draw her own conclusions about Jack's behavior towards her.

"Alright. I'll talk to them, sort this mess out. Thank you for your time, doctor."

"Of course."

Jack had already turned away, so Hannibal didn't bother offering his hand in farewell. He walked out of the ditch with Price and Zeller. The sound of their feet in the slush made Hannibal think of the men with the deer in the barn. The slosh of their feet as the icy ground was made soft with the spilled blood of their meager catch. Someone started humming. It sounded forced, a nervous reaction to the scene they were leaving behind. A way to break the dread tension that was settling with morbid thoughts.

Many lullabies and nursery rhymes shared similar tunes, lyrics varying widely across the region they were sung. Hannibal wasn't even completely positive the melody was familiar, but it sounded a different song in his ears.

He moved without thinking, eyes almost blind in his mind's panic and rage. The man didn't have time to scream when his glove covered hands found his throat, he did however, struggle. They lost their footing in the ice, and rolled back down the ditch. Hannibal came out on top, used to controlling his body and weight. It would have been almost impossible to be pinned by the clumsy thing squirming underneath him. His gloves helped keep his fingers from slipping and he tightened his grip on the neck.

He sang along with the melody he heard.

Mischa had loved that song. She had loved it when he had blown bubbles with her bracelet when she took a bath. She had loved it when her big brother sang to her.

A heavy pressure went around his chest, and he was hauled off the man underneath him.

He had fought when they had taken Mischa away. They had said they were going to play. No one who ever went to play ever came back.

'Annibal.

She had cried for him and he could not get to her. It was worse than what he felt when he thought she would fall under the water in the tub.

'Annibal!

"Hannibal!"

He was on his back. He was in the snow. He clenched his hands in his gloves, removed from the trachea he had been crushing. He was big. He was not small, they could not hold him back anymore. They could not take Mischa away.

"Hannibal."

Mischa?

A different face came into focus. "Alana." Her name felt heavy in his mouth. His chest hurt. His arms hurt.

"Can you sit up?" She was kneeling. Snow had to be melting through her clothes.

He pushed himself up on to his knees, vision tunneling again. He was light headed, wisps of the song's lyrics trailing through his ears. He reached out towards her, clumsy, feeling blind when his eyes would not focus for him, would not do what he wanted.

Alana caught him and he sank towards her warmth, his forehead resting against her breast. He moved his hands and clutched at her sides, trying to draw deep breaths. Her arms wrapped around him as best they could given their awkward position. She did not speak or make any sounds, and he was glad just to hear her breath and heartbeat. The smell of her perfume was dampened by the cold, the scents of her home, deodorant, cleaning detergent, and Will's dogs clung more strongly. She had not yet spent enough time in his home for it to stay with her long after she stepped out of it. The smell of her permeated his sheets, despite the increased amount of laundry he had started doing since the two of them had begun to have sex.

She placed feather light kisses to the top of his head, and the fingers of one of her hands toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Do you think you can stand?" She spoke softly, close to his ear.

He nodded, nearly sending the both of them tumbling back down as he tried to help her stand as they rose. His legs tingled as blood flow returned after his awkward crouching. She smiled at him and he almost managed to return the gesture. He looked down at the dark patches of her pants, where the snow had dampened them.

"I'm sorry about your clothes."

"No need. I'm always happy to get a little wet for you."

He laughed, letting her crass humor pull him from his fog, but it lasted only a moment. He looked down at his hands and flexed his fingers. "Who..?"

"Zeller. He's alright, Jack pulled you off of him."

Who it was was hardly the point, the fact he could not remember or recount the face of who he had attacked was more alarming.

"Jack is very strong."

"Yes. Are you alright, physically?"

She would ask after his mental health once they were both more comfortable, and not under the eyes of law enforcement. Hannibal looked up to the road, where a line of men in uniform were watching them.

"I'm fine."

She looked where he did. "Hannibal..."

Male pride was not holding back a true assessment of his state. He looked back towards her until their eyes met. "Alana I am fine, physically. Just a bit sore, perhaps."

She nodding, finally accepting the answer. "Alright. Let's get out of here then."

Her arm was tucked through his, and they walked out of the ditch together. When Jack approached them, Alana tossed his keys back to him, and as he was busy catching them, picked her bag up off the road. Several things had spilled out of it. She had to have dropped it and run down to him. Jack pocketed the keys, catching the hint and not moving any closer.

"You alright, Doctor Lecter?"

"I'm alright. How's your man?"

"Getting his breath back."

Alana put her arm back through his, another sign for Jack to back off. She must have said something to him before Hannibal came back to himself. There couldn't be another explanation for why he was being allowed to walk away so quickly after something like this.

"I'll extend my apologies in person another time."

"I'll let him know."

None of the other officers approached them as they left. News vans had started driving past when they reached Hannibal's Bentley. A small mercy to have avoided them. Alana put her bag in the back seat and then reached her hand out towards him.

"Keys."

He hesitated.

"You just had a violent episode and a panic attack Hannibal, I don't know what triggered you, but I don't want you driving right now."

He handed the keys over and got in on the passenger side. They were both damp, he could worry about cleaning the interior later.

She didn't ask him any questions, and didn't touch the radio, but she did put on the heater. Hannibal considered putting on some music, but the silence was more soothing to his mind than music would be. He tried to reconstruct what he heard and saw before he attacked Zeller, tried to remember doing it. They were halfway back to Baltimore before he spoke.

"I heard a song."

"Have you ever reacted this strongly to it before?" Her question carried a professional tone.

"No." The tub and Mischa- the girl, it had pulled up too many memories.

"Have you thought about finding a new psychiatrist?"

Mischa's name had never come up when he talked to Bedelia. It was time to change the tone of the conversation. "Don't want me talking to you?"

She took a breath, letting her work persona fall to the side. "I don't want to worry about feeling like your doctor when I'm..."

Whatever they were. "I understand."

"I want you to want to tell me Hannibal, I just don't want you to think you have to. And when, or if, you do, I'm not sure how good I'll be at not being a doctor."

He smiled, making sure she saw the expression before replying. "The perils of dating a psychiatrist."

"Are we?"

"Given the vast number of terms for relationships that are available, that seemed a good one to start with while trying to define what we are. Do you disagree?"

"No."

She almost sounded relieved, it was a conversation they had needed to broach since the first night she spent over. Gideon's capture and Jack's subsequent visit had put a hold on any conversation they could have had. It was good to finally have things moving forward again, in terms of what they saw each other as.

He didn't turn the radio on, but he closed his eyes and let his mind rest. Alana's smell was starting to permeate his car. It reminded him of warm sheets and his bed.

She touched his shoulder after shutting off the engine, and he opened his eyes quickly.

"I wasn't sleeping."

"Right. Did you have anymore appointments today?"

"Not with patients. I can reschedule."

"Good, because I took you home."

"Will you be coming in?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes."

She got her bag out of the backseat and gave him back his keys so he could open his front door. He helped hang up her coat before giving her a quick kiss on the lips.

"You can put your things upstairs, I'm going make those calls."

Once he rescheduled, it would still be possible for them to manage an early dinner. He highly doubted Alana would want to leave the house, as she would see it as a sign to head home, and leave him alone, no matter how she had to get there. He thought of what he had in his fridge, mind running through ingredients and leftovers. Cooking something fresh would help set his mind right, but he wasn't sure when Alana had last eaten, and if she would want to wait. Even if it was early for dinner, it was possible she had missed lunch while giving her lectures that day.

"Alana?" His coat had saved his back, but his pants and socks had gotten soaked. He left his shoes and socks at the bottom of the stairs, cold pants clinging to his thighs in odd places. He moved upstairs to his room, interested in putting on something clean.

She was standing in her underwear, examining the setting stains on the knees of her pants.

"I know a good cleaner."

She smiled. "I'm sure you do." She folded the pants before putting them aside, keeping the damp stains from coming into contact with his furniture.

"Were you going to take a shower?"

"I thought about it, but then figured you would probably want one. Didn't want to take your shower from you, seemed rude."

"Yes, well, the guest bathroom is always open."

Alana's cheek twitched as she barely held back her smile. "Oh, that's how it is." She tried to walk past him through the doorway. "I guess I'll just go use the guest room and-"

Hannibal caught her around the waist, pulling her back to his chest. Her bare skin warmed him, even through the layers of his suit. His nose got buried in her hair when he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I'm willing to share."

"Such a gentlemen."

His hand slid across her stomach, fingertips brushing against the elastic of her panties. She turned in his arms before he could make a decision on what to do next. Hands gently resting on the sides of his face, she stretched up on her toes to kiss him. Her mouth trailed across his jaw and neck as she settled back on her heels. His hands settled on her sides, moving with the steady expanding and contracting of her lungs. She held her hands behind his neck, arms stretched up around him.

"Are you alright?"

Hannibal pulled her flush against him, rocking slightly as he held her. "Yes. A little worried about what you must be thinking."

"You don't have to worry. I'm here for you to talk to or not, as you see fit."

He sighed. "It's just, with everything Jack and... and Will have been saying, I don't want you to think you have a reason to be afraid."

Her arms tightened around him. "I'm not afraid, I'm worried. I've never seen you lose yourself like that."

It was a rare occurrence when he was not in control of himself. Hannibal was glad he had not screamed, as the sound had so often forced itself out of his mouth when he recalled his last memory of Mischa. He let the silence stretch between them a moment longer.

"I'm keeping you from your shower."

"It's alright." Her hands dropped from where she held them, trailing down to the buttons of his vest. "You could get out of your damp things and join me."

Hannibal smiled, and Alana took that as her cue to start taking off his jacket. When they made it to the bathroom, he was down to his boxers, dress shirt still on but unbuttoned. She had managed to keep her panties on, but slipped them off of her own accord as he turned on the shower. Standing behind him, her hands slid down his sides before her fingers slipped into the elastic of his underwear and pulled them off. He stepped into the shower under the still warming spray, pulling Alana in after him. The fabric of his shirt plastered itself to his skin, and she clutched to its open front as he lifted her up. Her legs locked around his hips, trapping his cock between her thigh and his belly.

He held her against the wall of the shower, feeling her shudder as her skin came in contact with the cold tiles. He shifted his grip from her hips to her ass, trying to adjust the angle of their bodies, and she tilted her hips, helping him sheath himself inside of her. Her back arched, pressing her breasts into his chest. One of her hands went up to clutch his shoulder, while the other moved down to the space between their bodies. He murmured words of encouragement into her neck as she rubbed herself, thrusts slow and languid.

Her legs tensed at his sides, body taught as she tried to rise and fall in a counter rhythm to him. Alana's breathy cry of fuck preceded her orgasm, body clenching around his cock. Her nails scratched at his shoulder through his shirt, and he set her on her feet after the rushes of pleasure passed through her system.

They turned under the spray of the shower, roaming hands helping spread water across skin. He moved her hair, kissing behind her ear and down her neck to her shoulders. His hands brushed over her peaked nipples, palming her breasts. She braced herself against the wall as his hands reached her hips, and he smiled as he sank back into her. He set a faster pace with his hips, letting the the friction between their bodies build hot pleasure low in his belly.

Hannibal slipped one hand between her thighs, making her whimper, body still overly sensitive from her orgasm. He wanted to hear another breathless fuck get pulled from her lips before he came. Alana never cried out to god during sex, and only used his name when she was articulating something. Her soft, pleasure pulled obscenities amused him.

"Fuck!"

She pulled his hand away from her as she came, and he rode it out with her, cock pulsing with his own orgasm. Softening, he slid from her body as she straightened back up.

They stayed still under the water, regaining their breath, until Hannibal took his soap from the edge of the stall and began washing her back. She held her hair out of the way as he moved across her shoulders with the suds, slowly moving down her back and across her ass. He paused at her legs, watching his cum trickle down her thighs with rivulets of water. Once he had finished, Alana took the soap from him, returning the favor, working around his shirt. The water started to run cold by the time she finished, and they wound their limbs together for shared warmth before they finally exited the shower.

He peeled off his shirt, giving her time to reach the towels first. She started to dry him off, staring at the thoroughly drenched item of clothing.

"I'm sorry about your shirt."

"So am I."

She broke down into giggles, and he joined her with laughter. After drying off, they went back to his room, picking up his strewn clothes and Alana's bra along the way. When he started to get dressed, she made a detour back to the bathroom for her panties. She had clothes in his closet from the last time she spent the night, so she didn't have to put her stained pants back on.

He watched her as she dressed, having already put on his slacks and a sweater.

"Will you spending the night?"

"No. I don't have anyone who can look after the dogs."

"Do you need me to-?"

"No. It's late enough, I have someone I can call for a ride."

"Can I at least make you dinner before you go?"

She hesitated.

"I would appreciate the company while I cook."

"Alright." She smiled. "I don't need you thinking I'm only here for the sex."

"Of course not, you're here for the sex and the food."

Alana shook her head, still smiling. When she walked passed him for the hall, he could only smell his soap and the warm smell of her clean skin. He hummed a few bars of the harpsichord composition he had shared with her as they walked to the kitchen, and she watched him from the corner of her eye.

All Hannibal heard in the music was the sound of the instrument's keys and strings.