A/N: This story mentions in detail some sensitive topics including rape, abuse, and some sociopathic tendencies. If this disturbs you, I would pick another fanfic to read. Just a heads up.

~ To Every Captive Soul ~

It was a quarter past three in the afternoon, as the glossy lemon-yellow Volkswagen bug turned off the freeway. From the passenger side of the quaint car, Nora Alden a petite dark haired woman, sat in silence. Even as the upbeat Pop song rang out in the enclosed space, she remained solemn and unmoving, making her older sister, who was currently driving the bug, sigh in defeat.

"You seriously can't be pissed off at me forever, Nora," she whined, as she flicked on her turn signal and cruised deeper into the city. "He's one of the best damn psychiatrists in the region! He'll be very useful! He'll be able to help you." When Nora remained silent, Cassandra continued, "Please, please, please don't be mad at me!"

Nora let her woodland brown eyes slide to her bubbly sister, before her gaze returned to the blurry images outside her window. "I'm not mad, Cass."

"Then why the silent treatment? You never used to be so quiet. Sometimes I swear, it's like you're a different person." Then Cassandra, realizing she had put her foot in her mouth, had the good sense to grimace. "Oh Nora . . . I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-"

"I know you didn't." It wasn't the first time that Cassandra hadn't known what to say, and Nora knew it wouldn't be the last. "It's alright. No harm done."

Cassandra studied her for a moment, gauging her sincerity before her earlier optimism was back full force. "He's gonna be a good fit, Norrie! He's super smart, just like you, and Judge Madden was very happy when his name came up on the list."

Judge Madden would have been pleased with any choice of therapist, as long as she was properly evaluated to the Court's contentment. But Nora didn't say so aloud. She didn't have the heart to speak her mind with her happily married, 30 year old sister anymore. It would have been akin to corruption, poisoning such a innocent mind as Cassy's, and she never would have done such a thing on purpose.

"Thank you for setting up the appointment, Cassy." It was a lie, crawling out of her mouth past her teeth, leaving a bitter taste on her tongue; but somehow Cassandra was too preoccupied to notice.

"Anything for you, little sis!"

Anything? Nora wondered, as they pulled into the quiet parking lot of the predetermined address. Or just what is expected of me?

Nora unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the bug. When she heard the driver's side door slam, she turned around to face Cassandra, who was grabbing her purse.

"I thought I was going in by myself."

"Of course, you aren't, silly!" Cassandra quickly shouldered the faux golden leather monstrosity, before she reached over and hooked her arm through Nora's. "I have to make sure you get settled and we have the right place!"

You mean you need to make sure I actually go inside? Instead of turning tail and running. "I can manage, Cassandra. I know how to check in. You can go shopping or something fun. I'll call you when I'm done."

"Nope! I'm coming with you. Now come on, slow poke, let's get a move on!" And with that, Nora found herself being dragged towards the building in question.

With baited breath, Nora lifted her gaze to the construct before her.

687 Bayshore Avenue was an immaculate, gothic looking three story, with a copious amount of large, arched windows, and deep marble settings. The gray and earthy stones caught the light of the diluted sun easily, before subtly reflecting it back; making the building almost seem to glow. Whoever had built it had been well-versed in their craft. It was old, but well cared for.

Nora readjusted the hood of her jacket with her free hand, to better cover her face, as Cassy chattered incessantly and hurried them along. It was early November, and despite the lack of snow and pelting rain, the wind had become rather vicious in its activities. If one wasn't careful, they could be blinded by their own hair, or umbrella. Not that Cassandra seemed to mind it in the least.

Nora continued to stare at the entryway, as they drew closer. In truth, she didn't want to be here. There was no point. . . And yet, as she walked with her back to the autumn wind, and her chattering sister at her side, Nora knew that she couldn't go back. Therapy was the price she would have to pay for her freedom. She had to jump through the hoops of convention to make sure she continued to fit in. . . Heaven forbid she be left alone to her own devices.

As they entered the professionally furnished lobby, Nora forced herself to take a deep breath and calmed her mind. The familiar comfort of her autopilot state shifted to the surface, while a façade crept up to capture her expression. As her battle mask settled, her pace grew quicker while her shoulders relaxed. She could do this. She would do this.

It was at 3:30 p.m. on the dot that the door to Suite 200 swung open.

After their initial inquiry for directions to the upper office, Nora and Cass had found their way to the top floor. To Cassandra's dismay and confusion there had been no secretary or login roster waiting them. Only several solitary chairs, set up against the far wall, across from the imposing redwood door. So, the sisters had sat, with the elder of the two prattling ceaselessly about having to wait, while the younger leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. It was a way to center herself, and heavens knew that Nora needed to do so.

To be fair, they had arrived early for the appointment, but it didn't stop Cassy from complaining. Nora could've tried to reason with Cassy about the wait, but such arguments rarely ended in her favor. So, Nora said nothing as her sister groused.

After several more minutes, the clock hand clicked from 3:29 to 3:30 and the wait was over.

The red door opened halfway exposing nothing more than light and the silhouette of a man. When Cassy elbowed Nora in the side, her eyes snapped open, though she didn't move from her seat. Cassandra, quickly recovered for them both, as she shot up from the chair and quickly scampered over to greet the man.

"Good afternoon. Miss Alden?" The voice was rich, resonant even, though in the end, remained slightly reserved.

"Oh no!" Cassy said with a giggle, that was completely too flirtatious for a married woman. She extended her hand to him, even as she gestured with the other towards Nora. "I'm Mrs. Walker. My sister is the one who's come to see you, Dr. Lecter."

His expression never changed, though it was clear that he understood. "Oh yes, Mrs. Walker. We spoke on the phone."

"You do remember me," Cassy cooed happily, as she openly studied the man. "That's good! I always try to make a positive first impression!"

He probably thinks you're a scatterbrained loud mouth, Nora thought as she internally cringed at her sister's antics. Cassandra had always been outgoing, to the point of getting into other's personal space. It was something that Nora had always fought, even when they had been children.

As Nora saw Cassy readying herself to babble again, she finally stood up and joined them at the threshold of the office doorway, unable to take anymore. As she stalked over to stand by Cassandra, she noticed that the man's gaze had slipped over to meet hers.

Dr. Lecter was a handsome man, with darker graying hair and prominent features. It was clear that he was older in years, but was one who aged gracefully. Elegance clung to him like a second skin- from the tastefully tailored three-piece suit he wore, to his posture and personal hygiene. Not a hair was out of place, nor an inch granted. But it was his eyes, vibrant in color and unwavering in focus, that caught Nora's attention. His gaze seemed to see through a person, as if his eyesight was unrestricted. . . as if he was capable of beholding her very soul. . .

If she'd been normal, Nora was sure she would have shivered. But she hadn't been normal in what felt like a life time, so instead she remained as she always did-apathetic.

Cassandra looked between Nora and the doctor before adding helpfully, "Dr. Lecter, this is my baby sister, Nora Alden."

Nora laughed silently without humor. Trust Cassy to say something like 'baby sister' while introducing her. Even though she was in her late twenties, Nora still had yet to be recognized as an adult by Cassandra. At one time she might have fought Cassy about it, but lately she'd lost the ability to care. So she said nothing to her oblivious sibling, and stopped hoping for change.

The psychiatrist almost imperceptibly dipped his head in Nora's direction, ignoring the somewhat degrading introduction she'd been given. "Miss Alden, welcome."

She nodded in return, as he finally stepped aside, making enough room for someone to pass into the office behind him. After a second of hesitation, Nora calmly strode past him. Cassandra promptly moved to follow, but found the doctor in her path. As she looked at him with confusion, he explained himself.

"I must insist that the first session be private, Mrs. Walker. Though in future, if your sister wishes for you to attend, you may join us." He gave no excuses or reasons for his insistence, which Nora knew would drive Cassy half mad with annoyance.

"Oh. . . Alright. I'll be out here then. . ." Cassandra frowned as she half turned to sit back in one of the chairs.

"Don't wait for me, Cassy," Nora said. "Go do something while you wait. I'll call you when I'm done."

". . .Alright, sis. I'll come back whenever. Just call me." And just like that Cassandra had disappeared back towards the elevator. Almost as if she was relieved to go. . . Perhaps Dr. Lecter's firm words and unwavering actions had ruffled her somehow. . .

Nora watched her go with apprehension building her in chest, though her expression never gave her away. When the soft ding of the elevator reached her ears, the woman finally turned her attention away, and fully entered Suite 200. Doctor Lecter wasted no time in closing the door behind them, though he didn't seem rushed either. His movements were exact, like a dancer picking his footing in a ballet; nothing happened unless he wanted it to. There were no surprises. Not for him.

"May I get you anything, Miss Alden," he asked courteously, gesturing towards two comfortable leather chairs in the exact center of the gigantic loft. "Some water, perhaps?"

"No, thank you."

"Please, be seated."

Nora obediently chose a chair, while the doctor took the one opposite her. As she settled into the smooth leather, the woman quickly observed her surroundings.

Suite 200 was more of a grandiose study than an office. It housed a great expanse of free space and walls lined with countless volumes and tomes. There was a desk with symmetrically lined items decorating it, and a small fridge and sink in the far corner. It was a pleasant atmosphere. It was quite clean and airy, and for that, Nora was grateful. She'd been expecting musty and cramped, when they'd been told Dr. Lecter's office was in the attic space of the building. But luckily, she had been wrong.

Several silent minutes ticked by, with neither the doctor or patient speaking. Nora took her time in looking around, before she felt the grip of propriety nudge her into action.

"So . . . I guess my sister told you everything and then some, when she called to set up the appointment."

A half smile rose to his lips, though it never touched his eyes. "In so many words, yes. Though I was unclear on some of the details of her reiteration."

"I'm sure you've read my file by now," Nora said, as she got more comfortable in her chair. "All the information you'd need to know about me is in there."

"I would rather hear your history in your own words, Miss Alden." He sat, legs crossed with his hands steepled in his lap. The perfect picture of elegant ease. "Medical notes can only explain so much before they become obsolete."

The last thing Nora wanted to do was travel down memory lane. She'd done her best to repress what had happened. But it seemed that she wouldn't have a choice in the matter.

". . . What exactly do you want to know, Dr. Lecter?"

His gaze was unrelenting but somehow still leisurely. "Whatever you deem necessary to tell me."

"You know that I was given a court order to visit a therapist?"

"I was aware."

"Then you know I didn't come here by my own design."

"Few rarely do," came the simple reply. "But perhaps you will be able to find your own justification for your visit. Perhaps talking about it will shed light on the darkened corners, or in the very least, it might allow Judge Madden's insecurities about you to be assuaged."

". . . You said visit, doctor? As in one?"

"I'll refrain from filling in my calendar, until the appropriate time." From his words, and the glint in his strange eyes, it was clear he knew she had no intention to make a return visit. It was embarrassing to think that she was so transparent, but also relieving. There was no point in pretending if he already knew.

"I appreciate that."

He nodded to her, but said no more. He was waiting for her to begin, and after the silence became unbearable, several minutes later, she indulged him.

"As I'm sure you're aware, due to the court mandate, I'm required to see a psychiatrist to get a clear bill of mental health. . . After I. . After I. . ."

"After you took Mr. Matthews life?" he substituted calmly.

Nora felt her skin tingle at the familiar name, and she clenched her hand unconsciously. As her nails dug into her flesh she forced herself to answer him.

"Yes. . . After I killed him in self-defense, they wanted to make sure that I wasn't a closet nutcase. The circumstances were violent for both me and Matthews . . . They were adamant that counseling was a part of my deal."

Or I'd be booted to the mental hospital for six or so months of rehabilitation. It remained unspoken, but both doctor and patient were well aware of what her alternatives would have been.

Lecter was still for a breath before he asked, "Is there anything more you'd care to discuss?"

"Besides what happened in August?"

"Yes. Anything you would wish me to be aware of, before you tell me why you are here?"

Nora thought for a moment, before laughing quietly and without humor. "They're all afraid of me snapping. Everybody thinks I've gone crazy. My family included. . . And I think maybe they're right. . ."

As Nora fell silent, Dr. Lecter stared at her intently, his eyes once more seeming to glimpse into her very soul, before the small half smile from earlier returned. Though this time, some of the emotion touched his eyes- surprising the woman who sat across from him.

"I would disagree with such an assessment."

" . . . You would?"

The eyes showed an expression that Nora had never seen before, making her skin rise with goosebumps and uncertainty.

"You appear quite sane to me, Miss Alden," he said sincerely, though refused to say more, as if he was in tune with a great secret.

Despite herself, Nora smiled for the first time that day. "That opinion might change, Doctor Lecter . . . Given time."

He raised his eyebrow ever so slightly at the challenge, before he gestured with a hand for her to continue. "Then let us test it."

"Where do I begin?"

"That is entirely up to you." He said. "I ask only that you do not stop until you have reached the end."

Nora was thoughtful for a long time, gathering her scattered thoughts until she was forced to look at the ugliness dead on. She closed her eyes for a second to center herself, before she began. She didn't start with her childhood, or with her life before. Instead she jumped straight into the moment of time when everything had changed.

Her voice was quiet and deep as she spun her tale. She was immediately drawn in by her own words, so much so, that she didn't notice her psychiatrist's avid attention or the intrigued glimmer that sat ever present behind his well-guarded expression.

She screamed. Lungs burning as she forced her vocal chords to reach a range she'd never attempted. The force of the cry was enough to make her whole body shake, but it didn't stop it from happening. Even as she cried out for help, she was gagged and tied up. She could see the lines of cars in the scarcely lit parking lot of the Baltimore Public Library, winking at her tauntingly as she thrashed and screeched. The sun was covered in clouds, the pink and orange of the twilight sky hinting at the time of evening.

When she hadn't stopped fighting, she'd been struck and the world had gone dark. The last image of freedom she saw was a glimpse of the beautiful sunset and the soft wisps of cotton clouds.

Blood.

Blood . . . Crimson, cloying, and free. It rolled down her bared flesh in small rivers. Nearly seven different slices taken from the ample skin of her bosom. It had replaced the pain of the rape, as hours and days had blurred together. The tears and sobs were gone. There was no more to be said. Death was waiting in the wings. The Reaper held out his hands in welcome, the skeletal fingers caressing her face like a long lost lover as she floundered for the light.

In the beginning, she had been hung up with her hands above her head. But after days of torture and abuse, she had been cut down. Her limbs were too weary to lift, and her fighter's spirit was gone.

The monster had left her alone in a pool of her own bodily fluids, thinking her dead already. He'd gone in search of gasoline and a lighter. And she'd watched him depart through bruised eyes that were too dry to cry. Her body rebelled against her, as she took a deep breath, and more blood seeped to coat the cold stone floor of the warehouse. The tape on her mouth made the taste of her blood more potent, but she had grown accustomed to it. No longer did it make her retch. Now, she was blessedly numb. Her senses and nerves dulled into silence, as she waited for death to carry her away.

Until it all stopped.

It wasn't instantaneous or righteous, as it gripped her, but the power of it sent a shock wave through her wretched body and soul. It echoed throughout her, like a trumpet of judgement, playing for her ears alone. The notes were forceful and decisive. Music she'd never heard before chorused through her broken body at the speed of light, mixing with her blood and pulsing arteries. Every muscle tensed and coiled, every vein clenched, and if she'd been able to scream, she would have.

. . . Then it had ended. Just as quickly as it had begun, the pulsating echo faded and the world was completely muted. No sound, color, or scent emerged. Only an ambient murmur, as a rush of adrenaline pushed at her bruised arms and legs. . . and then . . . she was moving. Crawling forward on a body that had almost forgotten how to. Then she was rising to a shaky standing position.

In that moment, as she swayed from fatigue and the blood loss, everything became clear. All traces of her fear or disheartenment retreated. The spark of a fire shot back into her mind in an unbalanced arc, before her blurry gaze landed to one of the many knifes her attacker had left on his worktable. With three staggering steps she was at the table. She reached down for the wickedly sharp blade that had been used on her, and held it firmly in her pale knuckles.

Then, she waited behind the door for him to return. The knife glistened silver in the faint light, as her heart turned hard and her emotions abandoned her. As the man once more stepped into the room, she felt no more hesitation.

He walked past her into the shadows, never once suspecting what would happen. . . And with a moment suspended in time, she came down with the knife, directly between his shoulder blades. As his blood splattered across her face, she lost track of how many times she stabbed him.

When he stopped moving, she had calmly reached into his pants pocket for his cell phone.

As the police dispatcher bid her to stay on the line, Nora Alden sat calmly beside the corpse of the man she'd killed. Not once, did she feel regret burn in her breast. Nor once, did her emotions fully return. . .

She had fallen silent after recalling what had transpired, steady tears falling from her dark eyes as she stared at nothing.

"Robert Matthews raped you." Dr. Lecter's sleek voice cut into her mind like a knife, drawing her back into the present, as she finished regaling her tale.

". . . Yes."

"He tormented you and had every intention of ending your existence."

"Yes."

"And yet," the quirking of his lips was neither happy nor amused, but altogether unique. "In the end you are here and he is not."

"Here I am," she whispered in agreement. "But not for the better. . . Something inside me broke off when I killed him. . . Any empathy I had is gone, or is buried too deep for me to find. . . . Since my recovery from the hospital, I've been trying to retrieve it. . . But I can't. The numbness, the lack of feeling. . . it's stayed with me."

"The prospect frightens you," he stated, artfully reading her without any trouble. "Even as you've begun to suspect that your submerged emotions might be gone for good."

She nodded, as she clenched her shaky hands closer to her chest. Beneath the double layers of clothing she wore, the woman could still feel the constant ache of her scars. All the cuts and slices of her flesh, that had been sown together in a ditch effort to save her. They burned eternally, just like her mind.

"I had accepted death. After all he did to me, after all I had suffered. He kept me as a personal pet for almost two weeks, before I finally snapped . I killed him to save myself. . . and now that I'm here, I don't know how to live anymore. I should have died there. . . It should have ended. . ."

"Perhaps Death had other plans for you."

Nora looked at him through emotional eyes, though no tears fell past her hooded lids. "Does Death have more than one purpose, Doctor?"

He thought on her inquiry before answering. "I believe he comes and goes far more than we give him credit for."

"Then why didn't he take me? Why am I still here?"

The intent eyes studied her before he said, "Because you are a survivor, Miss Alden. Even in your final moments, your true nature would not be denied. It fought for you. And here you stand, the victor, because of its well timed emergence."

Nora had never thought of it in this way, and it made the smallest amount of dread creep into her soul, as she tried to read the psychiatrists resolute face.

". . . If that is true. . . what does that say about my nature?"

"I do not know," he said with candor; all the while, the glint in his eyes appeared almost red in the florescent light of the office. "But whatever unearthed depths have been awakened in you, I do believe it is for your betterment."

"You do?"

The private smile had returned, making her gut churn for a reason she could not comprehend.

"Yes, Miss Alden. As should you. Your captive soul has been freed of its confines, and you have survived the transformation that most others would have been blotted out by. Now all that is left, is your acceptance of your metamorphosis."

She considered this. ". . . You mean, if I can accept it. . ."

His red-tinted gaze shimmered as he smiled softly. "Yes. If you can."

It was two hours later that Nora and Cassandra pulled out of the 687 Bayshore Avenue. The two were silent for quite sometime before the elder broke it with a question.

"So, how did it go, Norrie?"

Nora glanced over at her sister. "I honestly don't know, Cass. . ."

"Did he make you uncomfortable?"

"No. . . He was completely professional."

Cassandra smiled brightly. "So I can send Judge Madden the paperwork? You'll keep seeing Dr. Lecter?"

Nora said nothing for several drawn minutes. In truth, she didn't know what she really wanted. Dr. Lecter was an observant man, she'd give him that, but was he really what she needed? Could he help her recover her emotions? Her empathy? Or was she just fooling herself into hoping again? Truthfully, she couldn't say, one way or another. . . and yet she found herself answering Cassandra all the same.

"Yes. I'll keep seeing Dr. Lecter, if he agrees to it."

"Really!?" It was more of a screech than a question, but Nora nodded anyway.

"Really. Seeing a shrink three times a week is a helluva lot better than being stuck in a nut house for six months. . . He's the lesser of two evils, by far."

Cassy squeal happily as she reached out with one of her hands to hug Nora. It was limited contact, but somehow Nora still felt stifled by it.

"Will you drive the car please," she asked with humor in her tone, that she didn't feel.

"Oh hush you! I'm just so happy!" Cass beamed as she returned both of her hands to the steering wheel. "You'll be back to normal in no time, Norrie! This will be great! I knew he'd be a good fit! It'll all turn out alright now, you'll see!"

As they drove back the way they'd came, Nora felt tears prickle in the corners of her eyes again, but pushed them back. She wouldn't cry in front of her sister. . . But deep down, she knew that it was more than likely that she'd never be normal again.

It was several days later, in the early morning hours, that Nora found a small container on her front doorstep. It was still warm and the contents were clearly fresh. Taped atop the small tupperware bowl, was a small card with a phone number and note attached to it.

It read:

Miss Alden~

If you are free this Friday, I have cleared my calendar and would love to set up another session. I have sent the proper paperwork along to Judge Madden as well as your social worker, and it has been approved through all the right channels. I shall look forward to renewing our conversation, if you should decide to grant me with your presence once again.

In the meantime, please enjoy the homemade Boudin Noir.

Until we meet again,

~Hannibal Lecter, M.D.

In the minutes after rereading the note for the third time, Nora took her first bite of the enclosed meal. Before the unknown dish ( or Boudin Noir) even touched her tongue, she was certain that she'd go back for more counseling. Dr. Lecter had lived up to his reputation of being one of the best. His insights, though blunt, were clearcut and helped place her own view in balance. She had considered what he'd said to her, since she'd left his office several days prior. And for that, she was grateful.

As the exquisite morsel of food erupted in flavorful gales throughout her mouth, her opinion of the man was set. He was an amazing a cook, and a subtle psychiatrist. She would try to make her therapy work with Dr. Lecter. . . To regain her emotion, and perhaps her soul.

Never before had her pallete been more satisfied in a single bite. Never before had she enjoyed a meal quite so much.

A/N: Since the first time I saw the Hannibal films, I've wanted to dabble into the story. Lecter is such a strange and delicious character, this story has been a long time coming. Though I must admit that I channeled this more after the TV Show representation starring Mads Mikkelsen.

I have always loved the thought of Hannibal being a psychiatrist before he was convicted of cannibalism. As stated in the summary, this story takes place before he was ever suspected. I wanted to focus on his prowess as a therapist, while having hints of his other nature shine through. I hope I have been able to accomplish that. . .

Anyway, would you guys like to see more for this story? Or should I leave it a oneshot? If there was enough interest I might consider making it a full fledged story. . . I dunno though. Please let me know what you guys think.

Love you all, hope you enjoyed the morbidness. ^^

~Lyn