Ravenous
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.
Summary: Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.
Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.
With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?
A/N: This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.
Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.
Chapter Nine
Hannibal.
The name of the one man that was synonymous with all that Lady Murasaki loved and feared.
After the death of her beloved Robert, Hannibal had been her only comfort. His quiet presence and his expressive eyes had communicated a longing, a hunger that mirrored her own.
Loss and grief had contributed to the overwhelming sense of isolation. And when Death had touched their lives once more, the lady and the mute orphan had taken solace in each other.
Like shipwrecked survivors after a tempestuous storm, Lady Murasaki and Hannibal had clung onto one another, desperately trying to banish the bitter solitude that the war had brought upon them.
Nonetheless, a tiny flame of hope had begun to flicker in her heart every time he looked at her. Hannibal's gaze was still haunted by the things he had witnessed in his young life, terrible things that no child should ever have to see. However, behind the pain there had been something else. An unspoken communication, a desperate plea.
Please love me.
And the neediness in those violet eyes had touched her deeply.
Lady Murasaki's connection to the boy had been on a spiritual plane as well as an emotional one. It was a bond that had been forged from mutual respect and admiration. And despite their age difference, it was a relationship of equals. Hannibal had demonstrated this with his great reverence for Lady Murasaki's culture and traditions. He had never made her feel awkward or foreign. The boy had simply accepted what and who she was without question.
Acceptance had been the one thing that the lady had craved during her marriage but never received until a few months before Robert died. And a deep resentment had lingered in her heart because of it.
But to her great astonishment Hannibal, a child, had the ability to make her feel accepted, wanted, and needed. And for the first time in her life Murasaki felt that she mattered to someone. To Hannibal, she was not an asset or a trophy to be fought over and won.
He simply loved her. She could see it in his eyes.
So touched was she by his undeclared sentiment that very soon Murasaki had decided to become his mentor, his teacher in all things in life that mattered.
To Hannibal's credit, he undeniably proved to be an apt pupil. Like an empty vessel waiting to be filled, he was hungry for knowledge. He listened and absorbed everything she had taught him.
From her he learned to move with deadly grace, fight with honor, to revere his ancestors and above all to live a life of purpose and meaning.
She also had imparted onto him her love of art and literature. He had acquired his sense of style and sophistication from Murasaki as well. Hannibal emulated her need for perfection and beauty in all things. Whether it had been an arrangement of flowers, the preparation of a meal or the seemingly simply task of folding the paper just right to create delicate origami, Lady Murasaki had taught Hannibal the meaning of elegance, patience and a methodical attention to detail.
And as the boy grew into manhood, Murasaki had begun to see his strong resemblance to Robert. Hannibal had always possessed the same eyes of sapphire blue. But as he grew older, they deepened in color. The facial bone structure had been similar. And the color of his hair matched his uncle's as well, although Robert's had had streaks of grey in it.
Thinking back on it now, the lady admitted to herself that indeed, part of her had been attracted to Hannibal because of his eerie resemblance to his late uncle.
But with Hannibal it had been more than physical appeal. There was also a strange aura of raw animal magnetism, that even as a young pubescent boy, Lady Murasaki had found almost impossible to resist.
Now whenever Hannibal's gaze ensnared her, dangerous thoughts had crept into her mind. Forbidden desires had begun to take of hold of Murasaki, and she felt powerless to stop their onslaught.
Of course social propriety would never allow her to act on her feelings. After all, Hannibal had been a mere child when Robert passed on and she was his aunt by marriage.
To think of him as more than just her nephew had been wrong.
But when he had killed that disgusting butcher, Lady Murasaki's pull towards Hannibal had grown stronger. He had taken the life of another for her. Hannibal was now truly hers, their bond had been sealed in blood.
She should have been repulsed by his actions and shunned him altogether. But deep in her heart Murasaki knew that she was partly to blame.
After all, she had given him the tools to commit the unspeakable. It was Murasaki that had armed Hannibal with self-reliance and shown him the ways to justify his actions through honorable vengeance.
Sorrowfully, Murasaki also knew that she could not abandon what she had wrought. It had been her doing, all of it.
The lady had sheltered, protected and loved him. But she had also helped mold Hannibal by stoking the hellfire of his blackened soul.
A monster had been unleashed upon an unsuspecting world.
And Lady Murasaki had no one to blame but herself.
lllll
Henri had led Lady Murasaki away from the busy congestion of restaurant. And she now found herself standing outside in the sunshine on a beautiful patio of rustic terracotta tile with verdant foliage and colorful fragrant flowers The soothing sounds of babbling brook could be heard off in the distance which immediately put her mind at ease. Lady Murasaki had always found the resonance of running water to be therapeutic.
Overlooking the lush rolling hills and dales of Napa Valley, the terrace's view was picturesque and absolutely breathtaking. It was nature in all of its splendor. And Lady Murasaki could think of no artist that could do justice to such a beautiful landscape.
The lady had been so captivated by the magnificence that surrounded her that she barely registered the moment when Henri stopped walking.
"Dr. Lecter, I have brought your guest to you as promised, sir." The maître d' addressed the handsome young man seated at a table that was definitely set for two.
Hannibal slowly rose from the table to greet the enchanting woman that stood before him.
"Thank you, Henri. You have been more than gracious." Lecter said good-naturedly to the maître d'.
When Lady Murasaki heard Hannibal's hypnotic voice, she was immediately transfixed by it.
Hannibal in turn could not help staring at his captivating lady, who still enthralled him after all this time. She looked absolutely lovely this afternoon, in her burgundy dress that cinched her already tiny waist, and hugged her hips. The garment appeared to give her the perfect hourglass figure that was all the rage in the fashion magazines. Her high-heeled pumps were the same deep wine color of her dress.
The only disappointing aspect of her ensemble was the wide brimmed hat. Not that it was not fashionable, quite the contrary, it was very becoming on her. But it also obscured her eyes from him somewhat, rendering them indecipherable.
Perhaps it is a strategic move on the lady's part. Still harboring secrets, I see?
The head waiter bowed respectfully and then took his leave to grant the couple their privacy.
When Henri had disappeared from their sight, Hannibal walked around the table. His long powerful legs shortened the distance between them in a few quick strides.
Once again Lady Murasaki felt the warmth of his fingers surround hers and the moisture of his lips on the back of her hand.
"My lady, you do me a great honor with your presence."
Not letting go of her hand he led her to their table that was shaded underneath the palm fronds.
lllll
While most the guests of the Napa River Inn either dined the restaurant or were out taking in the sights of the region, the members housekeeping crew were busy tidying up their rooms.
The efficient chambermaids worked in teams of two's and each team had been assigned a different floor. On this particular day Lucille Brown and Betty Schuster had been paired up and were scheduled to take care of the rooms located on the seventh floor of the hotel.
Throughout the early afternoon both women had worked at speedy pace, trying to get their tasks finished before that slave driver Napier showed up for the white glove inspection.
"Betty, lemme ask you somethin'?" Lucille turned to face her co-worker as soon as she finished making her tenth bed of the day.
"Yeah, what is it?" Betty asked in return not bothering to look up from carpet she was currently vacuuming.
The suction machine made an awful racket and Lucille could barely hear herself over the noise. "Betty give it a rest will ya? Cut that thing off!"
Raising her hands in a gesture of surrender, Betty conceded then turned off the vacuum cleaner.
"Whew, that's a relief! That damned contraption was getting on my last nerve!"
"Okay, Lucille, whatcha wanna ask me?" Betty inquired.
"Have you seen that tight-ass Napier this morning?"
Betty shook her head. "Nope, and I couldn't be happier!"
"But that's just it! That little creep should have showed his pasty face up here by now, don't you think?"
"Just what are you gettin' at Lucille?"
"Well I didn't see him at his desk today and he wasn't down in the staff's quarters barkin' orders like he was General McArthur! Somethin' is up, I can just feel it!"
Betty rolled her eyes with disgust. She loved Lucille to death, but she knew her friend was a chronic gossip with an overactive imagination.
Placing her hands on hips, Betty looked at her friend with sympathetic eyes. "Lucille, stop it! You know better than to go around makin' up stories about the boss!"
"He drinks you know, I've seen him take a sip or two from that little flask he carries. Who knows maybe he's gone a bender and he's passed out cold in his room!"
Betty had heard enough. "A flask?! Are you demented? I don't know were you get your ideas from, Lucille! Why don't you go and make yourself useful, huh? Go out into the hall and get some more of them little soaps from the supply closet?"
"Fine, don't believe me! But mark my words Napier's a big lush! That's why he reeks of that god awful aftershave; he's got to cover up the smell of the booze!"
Betty pointed her finger in the direction of the door. "Soaps…now Lucille!"
Crestfallen, Lucille grumpily left the suite while Betty stayed behind to finish her vacuuming. However as she bent over the machine to switch it on, she suddenly heard a blood curdling scream pierce through the air.
It was Lucille!
Oh my God, the girl probably saw a rat or something!
Throwing the vacuum down, Betty ran out into the hall as fast as her chubby little legs could carry her.
She immediately saw Lucille kneeling down in front of the open supply closet with her hands over face and sobbing uncontrollably. Her entire body shook in fear.
Betty approached her friend and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Lucille, honey what is it? Did you see a rat or something?"
All Lucille could do was to mumble incoherently in between her pitiful sobs. Her friend Betty watched as she lifted a shaky finger to point towards the direction of the open closet.
Betty reluctantly turned to see what had Lucille so spooked.
Her eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as she encountered the horrific sight before her.
There, in the closet were the remains of Albert Napier. All four of his limbs had been severed from his body and stacked up neatly in a pile. His disembodied head rested on top of the appendages in a sick parody of the Jolly Roger. The torso had also been mutilated and from what Betty could tell, the man had been gutted like a fish to allow his bloody entrails to be displayed.
Whoever did this to him, took their time, even had a little fun at Napier's expense.
Whoever did this wasn't human!
And when Betty came to that horrific realization that is when she started to scream.
