Don't know whether its because it's the anniversary of Elvis's death, or just because I am obsessively listening to the 'Lilo & Stitch' soundtrack. Most possibly the latter, but anyhoo, Thanks to the King for the inspiration for this chapter. Oh, and in answer to your question Troesnaja, little Mischa saw something in 'Incipit Vita Nuova', more precisely, her mother committing a murder. Han's been a good boy lately. Hmmmm. I may have to change that. Tralala…

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You look like an angel, walk like an angel, talk like an angel, but I got wise, you're the devil in disguise.

-Elvis Presley, 'Devil in Disguise'

The sounds of guitars and the low steady thump of bass bounced off the walls of the old farmhouse, making their way down the upstairs hall and meandering down the stairs. Hannibal Lecter stood at the bottom of the steep stairs, looking up and listening, resisting the urge to shake his head. Or head up there and remove the source of the noise. His daughters had grown up listening to music sanctioned by him, with the exception of Emily's beloved Bare Naked Ladies and Prairie Home Companion CDs. Intelligent, well bred music, more often than not, falling in the classical genre. Now, there was Elvis.

Elvis Presley, being accompanied by a young soprano who lapsed into giggles when she missed a note. Somewhere, most likely in the storage boxes in the basement, his daughter had found her sister's old CD from the Disney movie 'Lilo & Stitch'. It seemed to be a prerequisite that if the movie were based in Hawaii, then it had to have Elvis songs. Currently, he was listening to a rendition of 'Heartbreak Hotel'. Hannibal thought nothing could startle him at this point, and a moment later he was proven wrong.

The volume of the music increased as the bedroom door to Allie's room swung open. She was still singing along as she stepped into the hall, singing as she bounced along with a hairbrush clutched in her hand as a makeshift microphone. There was a thud as she jumped from the hall and onto the staircase, coming into full view of her father.

"…down at the end of Lonely Street, to the Heartbreak Hotel!" she crooned rather loudly as she grabbed the railing with her free hand and dipped backwards. Allie about fell down the stairs as she heard the quiet applause from the bottom of the stairs. She heaved herself upright and stared down the stairs. The look on her face was one almost of a deer caught in the headlights. The stare turned to horror as she realized she had an audience throughout the entire song.

"Lovely, Alessandra, even though I don't quite approve of Elvis."

"You heard me?" the quiet tone of horror of her voice carried in the silent stairway. Her father smiled, nodding. Allie dramatically collapsed on the stairs, one hand gripping the brush, the other the railing. "Oh my god. This is so embarrassing."

"Not quite, Alessandra." she raised her head to peak at him, swiping a stray lock of hair from her face. "You should have seen, or heard rather, some of the things your mother has done." Hannibal winked then and Allie lay back on the stairs, looking at the ceiling. She was muttering something about her life being over as her father chuckled and took his leave. Like mother like daughter, but he sorely hoped that that would be only in these respects and not others.

*****

Starlight sparkles in the dark skies above the farmhouse, peeking through breaks in the moon silvered clouds. Somewhere in the surrounding forest and owls' calls. That, and the sound of waves lapping on the shore, are the only sounds in the cold November night. Allie stood on the end of the small dock, looking at the rowboat that sat in the icy water, bobbing against the pilings. A shiver ran through her partially from the cold, partially from the fact that she would have to return to school in two days. She would have given anything not to go back. She would have done anything to not go back.

Unfortunately, she was under fairly close supervision from her father. It wasn't as if she was going to kill anyone. Not yet, she amended silently. She looked back over her shoulder to the warm light that emanated from the windows of the farmhouse. She knew that if she were to approach the windows of the music room she would hear the Goldberg variations played exceedingly well. Not perfect, perhaps a slight stiffness in the left hand, but played with an engaging understanding of the music. Her father had made them take music lessons, she the piano, Mischa the violin. Both girls had chosen their instruments, both had excelled in their lessons. But Allie felt she would never meet the levels her mother and father had attained.

She hummed the aria to herself as she stood on the dock, looking out at the night blackened lake. Thin ripples of moonbeams reflected carried on the wavelets. It was tempting to hop into that rowboat, row herself to the middle of the lake, and just sit. It was also given to passing thought to let the lake take her into its icy grasp. She was not the first teenage girl to think of suicide, but Allie shoved the thought away with great strength. It was a cowardly way to deal with life's problems. And it hurt her to think of what it would do to her family. Daddy would be devastated.

The cold finally got to her and she walked across the worn planks back to the shore. Her long strides carried her back to the kitchen door and she slipped back into the warm sanctuary once more. As predicted, the sound of the piano filled the house, carrying the notes of her father's song to her ears. Her mother smiled at her as she opened the oven o check on something inside. Allie hung her coat on a peg by the back door and went to the stool that sat at the edge of the kitchen.

"Hungry?" Emily asked, looking from the hot oven to her red faced daughter. Allie nodded and watched as her mother produced a casserole dish from the oven. The scent of turkey and stuffings wafted through the kitchen and Allie's stomach betrayed how hungry she truly was. Emily laughed and set the dish on the counter before turning away to retrieve a pair of plates from another cabinet.

"What is it?" Allie had hopped off the stool and padded over to the dish. The scent made her mouth water and she inhaled the steam greedily.

"Leftover casserole. Its turkey, stuffings, and gravy from yesterday. Its really good, but," she lowered her voice conspiratorially as she leaned to her daughter. "Your father hates it."

"I don't hate it, Emily, I dislike it." came a voice from the door to the kitchen. Even relaxed and leaning slightly against the doorjamb, Hannibal Lecter looked impressive.

"Why?" asked Allie as she grabbed a fork from the drawer and took a bite of the concoction that her mother set on a plate before her. "Its good." she pointed at the glob with her fork.

"Turkey is not meant to made into a congealed mass with the dressing and gravy, Alessandra." he had come over to join his wife and daughter at the counter and now glared at the forkful his wife was offering him.

"Just try it, Hannibal. I've refrained from making it for years. Hell, I've refrained from making any casserole for years." she rolled her eyes at the ceiling and offered the forkful to him once more. A grimace settled onto his face as Emily tried the airplane trick.

"Emily, that trick didn't work on Mischa, nor will it work on me."

Allie looked curiously at her parents as her mother teetered in the edge of falling into a fit of giggles.

"Oh god, Hannibal was trying to feed Mischa one day and she refused to eat anything but peaches. He tried everything, including the airplane trick. Finally, I suggested he eat it first to show Misch how good it was. Unfortunately, it wasn't that good. You should have seen the face your father made, Allie."

"If I eat this concoction, dear Emily, Alessandra will see the face I made."

Allie giggled and took another bite of the casserole. "Come on, Daddy, try it. It can't be that bad, considering other things you've eaten." she took another forkful and looked at her mother before she continued, "And it's better than airline food."

Hannibal sighed and shook his head before looking from daughter to wife to fork to wife again. He took the proffered fork in his hand and put the casserole into his mouth.

"You have to swallow it, too, Han." Emily reminded him as he stood there, mouth full, fork in hand. There was a mild glare from the head of the household before he complied with Emily's instruction.

"How is it?" asked Allie, clearly enjoying her father's discomfiture.

"Wonderful." he replied, deadpan, before reaching for a glass of wine Emily had on the counter.

"Wimp." Allie snorted as she continued eating. Emily couldn't resist the giggles anymore and gave into them at the thought of anyone calling Hannibal Lecter a wimp. Hannibal, for his part, merely raised an eyebrow at his daughter.

"Allie, I believe your father's been called many things, but wimp, as far as I know, has never been one of them." Em managed between giggles. Allie grinned and spooned another heap of the casserole onto her plate.

"This is nice." she informed her parents as she continued eating. Both looked quizzically at her, and she swallowed before adding to her comment. "Its almost like we're a normal family."

Emily drew a sharp breath and looked to her husband, whose gaze was still on his daughter. Silence hung on the kitchen for a few more moments before Allie finished her meal and took the plate to the sink. She ran the water and the disposal and then dried her hands as she turned back to her parents.

"Thanks for the casserole, Mom. It's late and I'm going to bed." she came over and pecked her mother on the cheek, hugging her before releasing her and continuing to carry out the same motions with her father. "G'night." and she was gone from the kitchen, leaving her parents alone. Neither spoke until they heard her door close upstairs.

"A normal family?" Emily asked, grabbing her plate and depositing it in the sink.

"Admittedly, Emily, we are far from the American dream." Hannibal replied, handing her the casserole dish gingerly.

Emily shook her head as she took the dish to the fridge. "Ever since she came home she's been acting strange. I don't know whether it's just a teenage phase or something more serious."

Hannibal paused inwardly for a moment, debating telling his wife of his suspicions. Of his daughter's problems at school, and what he feared she might do. No, for now it was best if Emily didn't know. His wife had the potential to be very volatile, and he wasn't sure how she'd react. He came over to her, brushing a loose strand out of her face and placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Its nothing, I'm sure. She's probably anxious about finals when she returns. Don't worry yourself over it, dear Emily."

Emily nodded as she watched her husband's eyes. "You'd tell me if you knew something, wouldn't you Hannibal?"

There wasn't a moments pause as he replied, "Of course, Emily."

*****