Disclaimer: I don't own Hannibal, but all original characters are mine. Thanks for the follows, favorites, and reviews.
Pretty Little Things
Chapter Twenty
"You're not feeding them…game, are you?" Victoria asked Hannibal quietly as they got ready for bed. He watched her reflection in the mirror as she folded up the towel she had been using and put it back in its proper place.
"Why would I feed them what you would call game?" he replied, his eyes fixed on her.
"I don't know. I was just wondering if you would. This year."
"Not this year, Victoria." He set his toothbrush in its holder and followed her out of the bathroom. "Your mother has behaved herself this year, and don't you think she ought to be rewarded for it?"
"That's not how it should work."
"It sufficed for Pavlov's dog." He sat on his side of the bed. "Why are you so preoccupied, Victoria?"
She pulled back the coverlet and sheets on her side of the bed and sat down, too. What ought she to say? "The baby, Hannibal," she mustered. "If they find out about Robert McCarren, about what we did to him, what will happen to the baby?"
He seemed almost offended at this, as though her question was something rude. He raised his brows, his forehead creasing with the motion, and he replied, "Should anything happen, you and the baby would be taken care of, Victoria."
"How?"
"You can always be blind, Victoria."
"Then make it so I can be blind," she pleaded, leaning over and staring up at him. "The baby and me—let us be blind…"
He stroked her hair, kissing her forehead. "Once we are married," he promised, "I will make arrangements for you and the baby, in case something unfortunate should happen."
"Hannibal."
"Why are you looking at me like that, Victoria?" he queried.
Her eyes pricked with tears. "Because I love you so much."
His eyes softened, and he wiped her tears away. "What reason is there to weep, Victoria?"
"I don't know…"
"Go to sleep," he soothed. "You're tired. Tomorrow I will make everything wonderful for you. And in a few days, you will be Victoria Landry-Lecter, my wife and the mother of my child."
"I need something to sleep."
"Of course you do," he said, rising from the bed and kissing her again. "I'll go downstairs and make you some tea."
A few moments later he brought her a mug of chamomile tea mixed with milk and honey, which she drank under his close eye. And it did make her sleepy, and she nearly dropped the mug before he took it from her. He set it on his bedside table, then edged toward her.
"Hold me, Hannibal," she heard herself slur out. "Hold me and don't let go…I need you…"
He took her into his arms, and somehow, despite the heaviness in her limbs, she felt like something fragile and delicate, his treasure, his prize. The cottony haze of her mind made her think of the cartoon film Aladdin¸ of the scene in which Jasmine had declared, "I am not a prize to be won!"
Hannibal had already won her. She was his prize.
She only wondered how long he would keep her as such until his fancy for her faded.
This is my design.
No, Will. This is what we did.
June, 2010.
At Hannibal's urging she called McCarren, playing the woman who had chosen to finally submit to his pursuits.
During the fourth call, she brought up the subject of a rendezvous at Hannibal's cottage on the Susquehanna River, and McCarren drawled, "I wanna fuck you so bad, Tora. It won't be like it is with that queer you've been fucking. I'll make you come so hard…"
Victoria shuddered when she heard this, and Hannibal squeezed her hand. "Oh, it sounds like it'll be amazing," she said. "I can't wait. I'm so wet for you even right now…"
He said a host of other things that made her want to throw up and that made Hannibal cringe. When she hung up with McCarren she made a face. "I know it's all talk, but I seriously can't get over what he said he wants to do to me," she told Hannibal.
Hannibal placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "He must be allowed to think that you have finally come to your sense and will yield to him. You must keep up this façade, Victoria. You are doing well."
"Hannibal." She turned to him, her eyes full of tears.
"You're frightened, Victoria?"
She nodded.
"I will find something for you to take so that you will have no nightmares," he promised. "In chamomile tea with milk and honey?"
She nodded. "And will you hold me all night?"
"Of course I will, Victoria. If it will protect you from the nightmares."
"Hannibal."
"What is it, Victoria?"
She swallowed. "I love you, Hannibal."
November, 2013.
"I think it was foolish of you to take on Abigail Hobbs. You should have let another advocate handle it," Claire said witheringly once Hannibal had ushered the girls into the kitchen early Thanksgiving afternoon.
"That's not your decision to make, Mom," Victoria said as she hung up Sienna's coat. She turned to stare at her mother levelly for a moment. "Hannibal's colleague Dr. Bloom suggested it."
"Did she?" Claire's mouth quirked. "Is Alana a friend of Hannibal's…and yours?"
"More of a friend of Hannibal's, but I like her." Victoria led her mother into the living room. Claire sighed again at the lovely paintings and sculptures that decorated it. She ran her hands over the soft cushion of the chair she had chosen
"How is Hannibal going to baby proof everything?" she asked. "As soon as the baby starts walking—even crawling-you'll have to put everything up."
"Hannibal will figure it out," Victoria said, aching for another Xanax.
Sorry, Mischa.
Sorry, Mischa, sorry, Mischa, sorry, Mischa.
"Victoria, you need to lay down the law with him…"
"Shut up, Mom."
Her mother's jaw dropped. "What did you just say to me, Victoria?"
"I said for you to shut up, Mom. Our relationship is none of your business."
"Victoria."
"I mean it, Mom," Victoria heard herself say. "This is our house now, not yours. You don't get a say on what goes on here."
"Victoria…"
"This house. You don't understand this house. It was a sanctuary for me. Now it's going to be mine, mine just as much as it is his. Don't you get it, Mom?"
"No, I don't, Victoria." Claire's voice was quiet. "What does this house mean to you?"
"He wanted me, Mom. He always wanted me…for me. He wants me to be who I am, not what everyone else thinks I should be. And now…now I'm going to have a baby, our baby, his and mine."
"Is this what you want, Victoria?" Claire ventured quietly.
"You know it is, Mom." Victoria's lower lip began to tremble. "You know it is."
"I don't know anything about you, anymore. You shut us out….you shut me out after your father died."
"Did I, Mom? You blew me off. All those years, you blew me off. Hannibal didn't." Victoria straightened.
"So here we are," Claire said dryly. "We play our parts. To the end."
"If you see it that way, Mom," Victoria said as she went into the kitchen. "More wine?"
"Please."
The kitchen. Hannibal was there, putting some pies in the oven to bake. Him, that was what she wanted. Him.
"You're all right, Victoria?" he asked her gently, tilting his head inquisitively. An obligatory gesture for a father-to-be, watching over the mother of his child.
A mimic.
He didn't mean it.
He mirrored Stuart, mirrored Jack, mirrored even Will Dog-hoarder Graham.
He even mirrored her.
"I'm fine," she replied, pouring herself some more wine. "God, I wish my mom had stayed in Burbank."
"She is being that difficult?" Hannibal tutted, approaching her and burying his nose in her hair. "Don't worry, my love, I will handle it."
"You handle everything."
"Because I love you."
"Do you?"
She stepped away from him, her blue eyes boring into his amber ones. He stared down at her for a moment, clinically, as though she were nothing more than a patient to him. "Of course I do, Victoria," he replied. "Am I not marrying you tomorrow?"
"Do you even know what love is, Hannibal?" she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.
"With you," he said, approaching her and laying a gentle hand on her cheek, "I have discovered what it is."
And to feel his lips against her own, so warm and comforting. He loved her, he wanted this baby and this life that they could have just as much as she did. She had long ago accepted the worst parts of him, and she would continue to accept them, even if it killed her.
How much did you know, Victoria? Were you okay with him throwing me under the bus like that?
You don't know what it's like, Will, knowing what he is and somehow having him convince you to be okay with it for years and years and years.
I have an idea. And I'm sure I can get what happened with you. I'm very good at empathizing with people. Remember?
Are you and Jack going to throw me under the bus, Will?
That's Jack's decision. Not mine. Luckily, Jack is far more understanding about your situation than I am, and somehow, Hannibal is doing what he can to make sure you don't get charged, too. Jack and I think you and Zoe are good candidates for witness protection.
You think we are?
I'm insisting you are. After all of this is over, I don't ever want to see you or hear about you again.
Just married.
Just married.
"How does it feel?" Alana asked Victoria after the ceremony had taken place.
Victoria shrugged. "I don't feel any different. It's always been just Hannibal and me…"
Alana frowned, her brow furrowing. "Maybe it will take a little bit of time to sink in," she suggested. "Do you have names for the baby picked out?"
"Hannibal and I like Zoe Michaela. Michaela was the name of his sister who died as a child."
"I didn't know he had a sister."
"He never told you?"
"Victoria, Hannibal hasn't told very many people about a lot of things. You seem to be the exception. He loves you, Victoria. It seems like he's told you everything."
Victoria watched as Alana left the library and headed to the kitchen to help Hannibal with the nuptial meal.
The night passed in a blur for Victoria, though she managed to smile and nod her way through it, just as she had trained herself so many years ago. She even was able to keep up appearances and be good to her mother, who was no doubt proud to see her daughter married to the man she loved, but a little disappointed that it wasn't a huge wedding.
But then it wasn't her wedding. And besides, she was sure Hannibal wouldn't want a huge wedding.
But it occurred to her that she had never really asked him about it. They had agreed on this.
He had agreed to it because he had simply wanted the protection marriage to her would offer.
June, 2010.
"Zip ties, Hannibal. Why do you need zip ties?" Victoria asked him when she saw the contents of the bag from Home Depot. It was almost funny, because Hannibal was the sort of man who would step into a Home Depot to get what he needed to complete some weekend project around the house. She tried to conjure up a mental picture of him wandering through the aisles, perfectly pressed suit and all, calmly filling the cart with the required items.
"Why do we need zip ties," he corrected, kissing her on the temple and burying his nose in her hair. "Do you know how to use them?"
She shook her head. He smiled deviously and took her hand, leading her to the study. "Then let me teach you how. And I will allow you to practice on me."
"You're sure?" she asked him, clutching the bag in her free hand as he opened the door to the study.
"If you are worried about hurting me, Victoria, there is no need for that. It is a risk I am ready to take."
"So I can practice whatever I learned in self-defense class on you?" she said playfully, watching as he removed his jacket and tie and unbuttoned the sleeves of his shirt.
"Within reason."
Within reason meant that Hannibal was still ruthless and determined that she perfect the maneuvers he had taught her, and soon Victoria found herself straddling him and fastening the zip tie around his wrists as he lay beneath her, watching her. "You are much too cruel, Victoria," he told her, and she traced his bottom lip with her index finger before kissing it.
"You have no idea of how cruel I can be," she whispered into his ear before removing the zip ties from his wrists. He pressed her close to him as he kissed her, and in those moments, in that house, they were the only two people in the world, and the rules and laws governing everyone else did not apply to them.