Ch. 35 Abigail
"Monsieur, champagne?" The leggy flight attendant asked, as she pushed her trolley to the doctor's side.
" oui, un verre, s'il vous plaît" the doctor mused, before being handed a flute of the sparkling alcoholic.
"Oh you sir, have very good French." The blonde uttered, impressed with the doctor's pristine pronunciation. Her crisp natural accent, sending a displeasure to the psychologist's companion.
"Merci" the doctor said politely, before the attendant gestured to Will, who showed her no mind.
"Solomon?" Hannibal raised a brow in question, leaving a few seconds of time to think as the ambassador shook his head indicating a 'no'.
The blonde moved the trolley forward, but stopped to give Hannibal one last glance before continuing on.
"Is this what you were doing in my four year absence? Charming the pants off of the people you just met?" Will muttered, his voice laced with malice. The creases of his forehead being more prominent with the knitting of his brows, his faux accent in tow.
"I believe I did that even before your . . . Personal leave." Hannibal uttered in humor, diligently savoring the taste of the champagne. The taste of an almost perfect balance of bold, earthy and sweet.
Will terribly unamused by the implications, especially as the couple adjacent to them gave knowing looks. Even after all these years, the thought of people paying significant attention to the reformed Will still got under his skin.
"So why are we going to Paris? I thought you said we were going to Florence?" Will questioned, feeling an eerie intuition. Hannibal tilted his head, putting of a smug smirk.
"I have to arrange a few things, before assuming your permanent escape from your former colleagues." Hannibal responded, before finishing his drink and setting it down.
"As for now, rest properly." Hannibal added, simply resting his eyes closed as he leaned back in his first class seat. Back still a paragon of proper posture and not a single wrinkle on his three piece suit.
Will eyed the doctor carefully, memorizing every crease that folded his seemingly serene features. From the thin curve of his lips to the position of the doctor's cheekbones, it was all for the ambassador's viewing pleasure. Will lamented on the fact that not a single wrinkle was added, whilst he was gone in his years of 'death'.
Will then drifted off to his own rest, replicating Hannibal's position. Unbeknownst to him, the doctor was actually in a lucid state. Hannibal knew the prying eyes that are examining him under the careful light of the airplane window. It is far more tactical to pretend you're vulnerability to a fellow player, to draw an instinct of their own vulnerability.
As they landed, Will was jolted to wake, feeling the turbulence. After they safely exited the airport with no glitches to be heard of.
They took a taxi to 'Prima Facia', a first class apartment building by the out skirts of the Eiffel Tower, having a marvelous view, elegance was the central point of its exterior. Evenly painted with pillars at the front steps with Italian marble lining it in equal intricacy. it was in itself a work of architectural art.
Hannibal unlocked the front door, to reveal an equally elegant interior. A large cast iron and crystal chandelier, adjacent to the mosaic marble foyer. Plush seats with a carved wooden form, and an executive style dining table visible at the next room. Walls were lined with illustrious paintings if what seems to be original Van Gogh, Pollock and Dali, but some seemed to be personal sketches of a charcoal pencil.
Each framed sketch was dynamic, macabre, loathsome and yet mind bogglingly breath taking. Mangled, stabbed and tortured, was an obvious concept as well as death.
The apartment was a substance of pure extravagance exuberating around them. Hannibal placed his luggage down, before calling out.
"Bedelia!" Hannibal uttered, making a blonde woman reveal herself. She was an accessory to the vicinity, as she was equally elegant and beautiful.
She wore a tight fitting cream pencil skirt accentuating her curves, a white loose silk top tucked in. Her hair in curls bounced, as she walked down the crescent staircase, her hand gliding against the stairs pillars. Her glistening high heels tapped at each step, adding to the dramatics of the entrance.
"Your back." She said significantly dull.
"Where is she?" Hannibal asked, as the woman headed to the nearby bar, and poured three glasses of red wine.
"She's upstairs resting. She just got home from her lessons." She answered dryly, while handing the two men a glass of what Hannibal presumes is his Don Gregorio, Grenache.
"We are taking her, tell her to prepare." Hannibal demanded, as the woman frowned. She crossed her arms, leaning her stance to her right leg.
"You hauled me up here to take care of your daughter for five years, Hannibal. Five years! This has been your first time to visit her in that time! Do you expect her to come with you willingly?!" Bedelia argued, luster of aggression lacing her words carefully.
The fact of Hannibal having a daughter, dawned on the former FBI profiler. His eyes widened, plainly staring at the doctor, who glared in response to the woman's factual statement.
"Bedelia. . . Please call Abigail, and prepare." Hannibal ordered again, kindly this time but a low growl slipped from his lips.
Seeing the murderous intent seeping through the glare, the woman proceeded to go up the stairs to call the so called 'daughter' of the psychiatrist, without anymore objections. Leaving the two guests alone.
"You have a daughter?" Will mustered, tilting his head in curiosity.
"Yes . . . I was planning on introducing you both in due time, but your 'death' was an obvious expostulate in our circumstance." Hannibal answered, as he lowly lead them both to the dining area to sit.
Will contemplated in silence, as he imaginatively peeled Hannibal's existence layer by layer. The ambassador constructed a very viable exposition that addendum the given facts.
Simply put, Bedelia being Hannibal's past lover or wife. The child was given support by the obviously wealthy father, in exchange for the mother's care in his very evident absence.
Will concocted multiple variations of what type of child would Hannibal spawn, one being a spoiled elitist, the other being as cannibalistic as her father and one being as complicated and psychologically challenging. Even if most were not hereditary traits, Will still wondered what type of monster would he meet.
Two pairs of footsteps caught the men's attention. They both turned to face a teenage girl besides Bedelia.
She had an innocent face, shy smile and fair skin. Brown locks cascading her ever petite shoulders, as a green sheer scarf wrapped around her neck, youthfully draping on each side of her form.
"Dad! " she cried out, as she ran to Hannibal's side. Joyously wrapping her arms around the seated man's neck.
"Manners Abigail." Hannibal cooed, affection tender in his voice.
She let go of the doctor, as she set her gaze on the new addition to the room. She gave a kind smile, as she introduced herself.
"Abigail Lecter, pleased to meet you." She said, courteous in tone.
"Will Graham" Will answered, making the youth smile. But the name made Bedelia's head snap to attention. A simple smile creeping on her lips.
It was obvious that she knew something that he didn't which irritated him.
"well now that is the most interesting information I've heard." Bedelia muttered, catching the others attention. she gave a sinister look, calling for an impending doom.
"and I believe it is almost dinner, please Hannibal help yourself in the kitchen" Bedelia slyly order, making the conversation a two way strike.
Hannibal made no protests and headed to the kitchen that was connected to the foyer, Abigail volunteered in helping her father and headed to the kitchen as well. Leaving the two adults in each other's company.
"I am obviously not Abigail's mother, if that's what you're thinking. Nor am I Hannibal's lover." Bedelia uttered, before sipping her wine, then giving it a careful twirl.
"I didn't ask." Will said plainly, guilty of his accusations.
"it was quite evident in your expression. Curiosity. Irritation. And a very obvious jealousy." She gave a mocking tune to every syllable of the last sentence.
Will gave a low chuckle and shook his head. He turned to Bedelia, with confidence.
"I don't have anything to be jealous off. I detest Hannibal's presence." Will muttered. Feeling something familiar in the woman's tone.
"you can't lie to me Will, I am . . . or was one of the best psychologists." Bedelia informed, getting the other agitated with that single statement.
" maybe not the best, as I have never heard of you before" Will insulted, as a repercussion of her implication.
"because I work under my last name, my name is Bedelia Du Maurier. I believe you handled my case." She sassed, a smug smirk painting her red lips.
She was right, Will knew who this woman was, especially after hearing her last name. now he remembered. Will worked on her case seven years ago, as she was a missing person. She was attacked by a patient a week before her disappearance, which resulted in her to act in self defense eventually killing her patient. But it took a month before an official missing persons report was submitted to the FBI, by the local police. She was handling some high profile people, and it seemed like the woman was in danger. After two years of the investigation, the case became cold. And Bedelia Du Maurier was officially dead.
"why are you here? You've been missing for seven years now. " Will asked, suspicious of the obviously intelligent woman in front of him.
"I asked Hannibal to take me, he brought me here to get me to . . . unwind about the problems the US has given me." Bedelia alleges, feeling the eyes of the other.
"we didn't have contact for two years, then he suddenly called to ask me a favor. He wanted me to look after a teen child that he picked up out of the gutter. And yet, after saying this, we both know that Hannibal won't do something without a significant goal. I found it suspicious to say the least." The woman laughed, finding her situation comical.
"yes it is." Will said flatly, charity was never Hannibal's motive in anything.
Time passed between the two, finding that their commonality being Hannibal's . . . captives. They both exchange words of indifference understanding their unique circumstances. Until the unwitty decision of divulging in the conversation of emotions came.
"Hannibal seems to be allured by your intelligence Mr. Graham" Bedelia started, as she peeled Will's guard down.
"and so are you." She added, enjoying Will's barrage of emotions flowing out of his face.
"I don't see any evidence or significance of this fact." Will argued, feeling the tension.
"and yet, I see all the significance of this fact very clearly. He is obsessed, with both perfection and you." She commented, knowingly emphasizing the word 'obsession' with a careful pause.
"obsessed? Frankly he doesn't care for me or my being, he has and ever since destroyed me." Will bellowed, as he gripped the cloth of his trousers.
"no, he destroyed you to have you. And I believe you already know that, he elevates obsession to love. He sees his options long before it is needed, he saw a need to create your dependence on him. And yet, you surprise us all with escaping Hannibal's plan for you, and you creating your own person. Extremely fascinating." Bedelia said staining amusement on her voice.
"and now seeing you I believe you yourself are aware of your own obsession with him. truly fascinating, a sociopath and a psychopath obsessing over each other. No, a psychopath and a psychopath obsessing over each other to be more precise." She teased.
"I am not a psychopath." Will's voice hardening in the response.
"good education, good career, highly manipulative and I believe you were subjected to childhood trauma, that your lineage seems to have this trait of heritable social dysfunction. The only thing that puts you on the partial scale is your spontaneous out bursts, that falls under sociopath."Bedelia explained her assessment.
"and clearly you enjoy being in the middle of that spectrum." The doctor ended, as she heard two footsteps coming near them, indicating the end of the conversation.