Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to Chapter 4 of His Beating Heart. I hope you all had a fantastic Christmas and New Year! I apologise that it has taken yet another month in order to write the newest chapter. But due to being swamped with orders on my Etsy store, plus a new puppy and having four chapters to work on, I have been finding that I have felt very creatively drained. However! I am here and ready to get on with some weekly updates for you lovely people!

Chapter 5 is already in the works as well, as some of this chapter was moved to Chapter 5. I have spent a good 3 weeks or so playing around with this chapter, but I am finally happy with it, so I hope it was worth the wait!

Enjoy!


As Hannibal and Abigail sat down to eat; with the soft lull of music keeping the atmosphere from becoming uncomfortable, Hannibal observed her with a keen interest. She ate well. Seemingly feeling the gratification that came with settling her hunger.

'So where do I go from here? If everyone thinks I'm dead…what can I do?' Abigail questioned.

'There are many things that you can do Abigail. Options that may possibly have never been open to you if you weren't in this position.'

'How long have you been planning all this? I found all the clothes in that room…'

'That room, is your room Abigail. I merely hope that it is to your liking. If there is anything that you require, I can certainly arrange to bring it to you,' Hannibal offered with a courteous smile. Appreciating every flavour that entered his mouth, Hannibal ate, as always, with gradual mouthfuls, savouring the taste and texture.

'I never have to go back to a psychiatric facility?'

'No, from now on, you will be free Abigail. As long as you make wise choices and good decisions, you will never have to face your past life again.'

'So what will you do with me? I can't stay here forever surely…'

'I have no such intentions; I can assure you of that. I am taking the necessary precautions. There is still a possibility to the FBI that you are alive. They strongly doubt it, but there is always a possibility. Getting yourself caught on security cameras in an airport would certainly not do.'

'An airport?'

'Yes, when the time is right, Abigail, you will be leaving America, for good.'

'Alone?'

'No. I will not let you go alone. I made a vow to protect you Abigail and I will.'

'So you're going to be my new Dad?' she questioned, Hannibal pausing for a moment and lowering his cutlery as he gazed into her eyes.

'Abigail, the only father in your previous life has passed on. In that life, I tried to be a surrogate father to you, as did Will Graham for that matter. In this life, our relationship will be different.'

'Different how?' she responded with uncertainty, unable to see through his flawless expression.

'In time you will know what you wish for this to be Abigail. But it is something you and I need to find together. Just know that I am your protector, your confidante. Whatever you want me to be beyond that; is ultimately down to you. From there, I will try to be as accommodating as I can be,' he smiled.

'Will you mean it? Or just pretend to be what I need you to be…for my benefit?'

Noting the way that Abigail averted her gaze at that question, Hannibal realised quite quickly what she was inferring. Although he had not expected her to consider something such as that, given how much she already had to process. Regardless, he would not allow it to go unanswered. Moving his chair so that it was angled towards her, Hannibal found her hands in her lap and took them in his. Capturing Abigail's eyes with his own, Hannibal knew that Abigail needed to see the honesty within his eyes, if she were ever to believe him.

'Abigail, any actions I take towards you, or anything I say to you will be completely honest from here. My only request is that you do the same for me. If you do not lie to me, I shall not lie to you. If you ask me questions, I shall answer them honestly. Previously I may have withdrawn information, to protect myself. But I have confided in you some of my darkest secrets and you are still here to remember them. This is completely new to me as well, so we shall learn together. If you trust me, I shall trust you. I will protect you by whatever means necessary if you always do as I say when it is important to listen. That, is my only request of you.'

Remembering the way in which she had betrayed Hannibal's trust with Nicholas Boyle, she knew all too well that she did not wish to see Hannibal angry with her. Or worse…disappointed. She would be obedient to that extent at the very least.

'I will,' she affirmed.

'Good,' he responded in a satisfied manner. 'Now, eat, you do not want your dinner to get cold. Good conversation can never be lacking, but good food will always spoil. We can continue our conversation after you've eaten. There is no returning you to a hospital room tonight, after all.'

Smiling with more gratitude than she realised, Abigail continued to eat and neglected to leave a single thing on her plate. It pleased Hannibal. He was a man who took great pride in his guests enjoying his cuisine.

'How about dessert?' he offered, Abigail agreeing, much to Hannibal's liking.

'Would you like to peruse the books in my study? Perhaps you will find something to your liking?'

Standing from her seat, Abigail was about to respond when a rush of light-headedness overwhelmed her. Before she could act; she suddenly felt a pair of strong hands on her waist, Hannibal was behind her, ready to assist if she needed it.

'Abigail? Are you alright?' he asked in concern, turning her carefully towards him.

'I think so,' she nodded, Hannibal telling her to place her hands on his arms so as not to lose her balance, when she became very aware of his hands upon her waist. Trying to avoid his gaze as she felt a blush creep up into her pale features, Hannibal found himself curious by her reactions to him. Encouraging her once more to place her hands upon his arms, she finally did so, nervously, without so much as a glance in his eyes.

'I'm-I'm okay, I think,' she stammered, Hannibal observing her with a careful eye.

'It may be a little dehydration from the pain medication,' he deducted, 'would you like another drink perhaps?'

'Water, please,' she nodded, Hannibal obliging promptly after ensuring that she was re-seated. He did not wish for her to be alone and unsteady on her feet.

As Abigail looked at the vacant chairs opposing her, she began to think of those that she had dined amongst in that very room. It saddened her to know that Alana Bloom believed her to be dead. Though she didn't always want to see eye to eye with Dr. Bloom, she now realised just how much Alana had wanted to help her. Wondering whether Freddie Lounds would continue to publish the book that she had told Abigail she would help her write, was something that continued to play on her mind that evening. Although Abigail chose not to venture the subject with Hannibal when someone else came to mind.

'What happened to Will…you said people would believe he committed all those murders…'

'Will, is currently residing in the Baltimore state hospital for the criminally insane,' Hannibal responded rather factually. Glancing down into the glass, Abigail felt for Will…she knew how it felt to be trapped. To be held accountable for the actions of another. Yet she couldn't shake how he had made her feel that day in the cabin. He was sick. That much she remembered. She remembered the way he went deathly still, his eyes becoming unfocused and devoid of emotion. Then the shaking started, violent, uncontrollable, he was losing control of whatever was getting inside his head. At first she wanted to help, wanted to try and talk him through it, but upon placing a hand on his jacket, Abigail was disturbed to see the way he stared at her. She knew that look. The same look had rendered her body into shock when faced with her father. Her mind was screaming at her to run, to call out, to grab something, anything. But she remained unable to move. This time however, it felt like being thrust into ice-cold water. Staggering back, Abigail realised the look in Will's eyes was gone. He was looking at her, panic stricken as if afraid he had harmed her. He knew she had seen inside his mind.

Feeling sudden warmth around her hands, Abigail realised that Hannibal had taken the glass from her hands and placed it on the table. They were in his study; yet Abigail almost didn't remember how she had gotten there. Then she realised why Hannibal had acted. She was trembling, her hands barely managing to grasp on as Hannibal realised she was reliving something traumatic in her mind.

'He-he was afraid he was becoming my Dad, wasn't he?'

'Yes,' Hannibal nodded, 'he was.'

'Does Will know?' she continued, Hannibal pausing for a moment before nodding.

'Yes, he knows he has been wrongly convicted.'

'Won't he say something?'

'Right now, Will is in no position to say anything that will carry far with the FBI. Jack Crawford believes him to be mentally unstable and in Jack's mind, he believes he has caught the perpetrator for these crimes. But you do not need to trouble yourself with Jack Crawford. Nor Will's allegations for that matter,' Hannibal assured her. 'Right now, your focus is to look at your past life and consider how you wish to make your new life a better one.'

Nodding in response, Abigail soon realised it was useless to get so concerned over what could potentially happen. She had felt as though her life was about to end three times, each at the hand of a different man. Yet here she stood, alive.

'Always remember Abigail. You were the victim. Not a monster.' Looking up into his eyes, Abigail didn't understand how he could comfort her so easily at times when she felt so lost and fearful. How could a man capable of such things as Hannibal, know exactly how to console another in the way he consoled her? Trying to offer him a weak smile, Abigail suggested that she browse through his collection of books.

'Of course, help yourself to anything that you like,' he remarked, before excusing himself from the room, leaving Abigail to her thoughts with the warmth of the fire behind her.

Running her finger lightly over the beautifully bound books that Hannibal had on his shelf, Abigail was glad to find some classics that she recognised. Picking up the Three Musketeer's, thinking that she would appreciate a story that wasn't too dark, Abigail contented herself to sit with Hannibal for a while, the warm crackling fire lulling her into a feeling of safety and contentment.

Yet with it came the feelings of a yearning for sleep. It seemed absurd really. Granted the length of time she had spent resting since she had been in Hannibal's company, Abigail didn't expect to already feel as though she were ready to sleep. Nor did she expect the lack of anxiety that preceded it. Remembering the nights she had spent in the Baltimore psychiatric facility, Abigail recalled how worried she had been about closing her eyes and opening her mind to the nightmares that frightened her so. Feeling an arm move under her back, below her shoulder blades, Abigail became aware of another behind her legs as she was suddenly lifted with ease out of the chair she had become curled up in. With her chosen book still in her lap, Hannibal carried her from his study and upstairs to her room. Thanking him in her half asleep state, she thought she had seen him smile. Feeling the light cool support of the mattress beneath her, Hannibal took the book from her lap and placed it on her bedside table.

'I'll leave you to ready yourself for bed. If you need me at any point in the night, please, don't hesitate to wake me.'

'I wouldn't want to disturb you. You've gone without a proper bed for I don't know how many nights…all because of me.'

'I would not have had it any other way. I don't wish for you to suffer without anyone to help you. My door is always open to you.'

As Hannibal looked into her tired eyes, he noted how her complexion had paled slightly. She needed to sleep. So why did he feel compelled to stay? Trying to shake off these uncommon feelings that were lingering, Hannibal bade her goodnight, knowing if he stayed any longer Abigail would no doubt fall asleep fully clothed with nothing draped over her for warmth. Glancing back as he closed the door too, Hannibal felt satisfied with how the evening had gone. Yet Abigail was not the only one who had been left with things to reflect on.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

As Hannibal sat in bed that night, he felt restless. Two o'clock and he didn't feel the slightest inclination to sleep. He had barely spent any time in his own room since taking Abigail under his wing. His nights had been spent watching over her, taking care of her. Ensuring that she was safe and well. Now, it felt as though he were leaving her abandoned. It was an uncomfortable feeling. Hannibal Lecter was not accustomed to feeling such emotions towards others. Perhaps since he was only a child. Even with his vast experience of life, this was something entirely new to him. As he gazed out of his open window, Hannibal allowed the book in his hands to lower into his lap. The weight of the leather bound novel weighing as heavily in his lap as the memories in his mind. Thinking back to the previous week, Hannibal recalled his last session with his psychiatrist, Dr. Bedelia Du Maurier.

'Seems hard to find words today…' Hannibal uttered, reminding himself that he would have to demonstrate some disbelief at Will Graham's arrest. So why, even knowing that Abigail was alive and stable in his home, did he feel such overwhelming pain?

'Grieving is an individual process, with a universal goal. The truest examination of the meaning of life and the meaning of it's end.'

Bedelia had always been honest with Hannibal, for that, he respected her. Yet her words stung as unwanted memories pressed against their restraints in his mind.

'I know what life means. We've existed for a hundred thousand years. In that time a hundred billion human lives have had beginnings and ends,' he responded, the lives lost of those who mattered to him being further suppressed, though his emotions betrayed him, hanging close to the surface. He didn't think that a few tears could let out something he had sealed away from prying eyes. It was a struggle to retain his composure, although it seemed to be a struggle that Dr. Maurier welcomed. His veil, as Dr. Maurier so eloquently put it, was failing him.

'A hundred billion lives haven't impacted yours. Clearly Abigail Hobb's life has and you seem surprised by that.'

It was true, that Hannibal had never considered he would ever truly be protective of another. He had spent many years believing what his step-aunt had told him in one of his final encounters with her…

What is left in you to love?

Yet at the time, it had not concerned him. Initially he felt the familiar emotional pains of such a rejection. But he had quickly accustomed himself to being alone. It suited him. He had done what he had to do. He had avenged his sister. Yet now; it was coming back, as if to make up for years of neglecting to haunt him.

'I never considered having a child, but after meeting Abigail, I understood the appeal. The opportunity to guide and support and in many ways direct a life.'

'You were having influence on her.'

'I was hoping I was.'

'Young people are supposed to be the lenses through which we see ourselves living beyond this life,' Dr. Du Maurier was calm, patient, Hannibal knew that she was learning a great deal from his emotions and she would continue to pursue it in the duration of that session.

'I think of my earliest memory and project forward to what I imagine will be my death. I never think about living beyond that span of time. Except my reputation,' Hannibal responded, meeting her intentions and attempting to cease them.

'Even after this loss?'

'More so, after this loss.'

She hadn't much time to press further upon the subject. She was like Hannibal in the respect of time keeping. Glancing at her watch, Hannibal noted the way she always adjusted it slightly before returning her attention to him.

'Would you like a glass of wine?'

'No. I think today I should remain completely focused within my mind,' Hannibal responded, leaving Dr. Du Maurier's home for the first time in her knowledge, without staying after a session to reflect on other topics of work.

Exhaling silently, Hannibal continued to think about the past few days long into the night, his curiosity getting the better of him as he eventually quietly ventured up to Abigail's room where he remained, watching her sleep, knowing that she was content without her nightmares to haunt her…


So there you have it! Chapter four. I hope you all enjoyed it! For those who haven't yet seen it; I highly recommend checking out the trailer for Hannibal Season 2. I have only just watched it myself and while they seem to have included a couple of rather large spoilers, it looks incredibly dark and even more gripping than Season 1. Obviously this fanfic will follow some loose elements and story patterns to coincide with Season 2. But ultimately it will veer off on it's own I'm sure.

Well as it's nearly 2am here in the UK I think some sleep is much needed!

Goodnight and thank you for reading!

~x-xMasqueradeAngelx-x