HANNIBAL'S LULLABY

Clarice was sound asleep by the time Hannibal showered and returned to their bedroom. He placed his right knee on the mattress, slowly allowing his weight to settle before crawling across their bed toward his wife, careful not to displace the surface thus waking Clarice. Close now, the thoughtful husband very tentatively lowered his shoulder to the goose-down, allowing his full weight to settle into the mattress. When he was certain his wife was not disturbed by his presence, he gathered Clarice and his son within his arms and pulled them close.

Without waking, Clarice snuggled against Hannibal, the baby cradled in her arms, soundly asleep. Within minutes Hannibal, too, was asleep, his arms encircling his wife, now nestled comfortably within his loving embrace. This devoted clan often shared a family bed, the baby as contented to sleep with his parents as he was without. Not seeking his mother out of his own need, Devyni could often be found in Clarice's arms if his desire to nurse overruled her ability to stay awake.

Though he was a growing boy, Devyni occasionally sought his mother's breast in the middle of the night not out of hunger so much as the need to mollify. This child was lovingly intuitive and if it seemed Clarice was particularly upset or even a bit lonely, the boy's needs appeared to become more acute. Hannibal noted the correlation, but made no effort to draw Clarice's attention to the occurrence. The boy sensed his mother's need for comfort and sought, in his own way, to soothe. Hannibal believed this was something that should be encouraged but understood that if Clarice realized the pattern, she might seek to disrupt the process. Not wanting to be perceived as needy, she would seek to separate from her son. That, Hannibal believed, would not be ideal.

Though he was sleeping, Hannibal was aware something was wrong. His brilliant mind, unable to wake to conscious thought, sought clarity where there was none to be found. He was in his home, that he could plainly see, but there were scents and sounds to which he was not accustomed. The rooms seemed to be longer, the walls, warped, sounds reverberating in odd ways, disturbing him. Stalking through the rooms, he could hear the echoes of his son calling to him, but could not find him, nor could he locate Clarice. He searched his memory palace. Was the problem here? Past? Present? Hannibal wandered the wide expanses, clearly puzzled.

If the boy is here, where are you my Love? It isn't possible that you would have left him alone. Where are you Clarice? Where is my aunt? It isn't safe. The child mustn't be left alone.

Walking on the main level as the setting sun streamed through the open windows, a stiff, warm breeze wafted within the space. Nostrils flaring, he breathed deeply and could absolutely detect the presence of his son, but not his wife or aunt. His heart punched against his ribs, so much was the anxiety of the moment.

I am not alone. Danger is near.

Moving toward his son's scent, Hannibal thought to call out to the boy, but the sudden influx of another aroma stopped him cold.

Chavez.

Knowing his son was somewhere in the home and that Chavez wished to do the boy harm, Hannibal understood stealth to be his greatest weapon. Though he moved quickly, his concern was silence. The scent was moving quickly as well, but his son's motion was minimal.

The boy is in his crib, but Chavez is moving about the home with impunity. Do you believe yourself to be alone? Are you seeking my son? If you are, it is the last mistake you will ever make.

Father would be of no help now. Hannibal paused and within his dream, unleashed Predator, the incarnation of protection: the single most ferocious aspect of his inner-self. He would be stealth, he would be ferocious and he would be unyielding.

I pity you, Chavez. I will not stop until you are dead.

Running from his study down the hallway to the foyer, Hannibal dashed toward the stairwell, gripping the bannister, using it to help him round the railing. Bounding up the carpeted stairs, two and three at a time, he headed toward the second level of the home, the now-identified source of the scent. Windows were open, curtains whipping and flapping with the wind, the swirling breezes confusing him, scrambling source of the aroma.

Reaching to his sleeve, he sought his harpy.

Not there? What's happening? No matter. My body is the only weapon I will need.

Staying so close to the wall that he seemed a part of the plaster, pressed, his shoulders skimmed tightly along the surface, Hannibal continued to breathe deeply, attempting to isolate the scent. Palms floating along the wall to assist in the detection of any movement, heart pounding, he made no effort to slow the organ's beating, the excess adrenalin needed now. Another deep inhalation and suddenly the source was clear, recognition.

My son's room? You dare enter my son's room. Rest assured, you will never leave.

Gripping the doorframe, Hannibal lowered his body to a crouch, silently scuttling along the interior wall, careful to remain out of Chavez's sightline. Entering the room swiftly and silently, although Chavez was no more than two feet away, Hannibal remained undetected. Sliding along the wall, the concerned father watched from his periphery has he scanned the room for a weapon.

Yes. That will do nicely.

Reaching for the item he'd identified as his weapon, careful to remain silent, Hannibal lifted the container to test its effectiveness. He hefted it quickly. Half full. Perfect. Tucking it under his arm, he pinned the container against his body, slowly twisting the cap to release the seal and allow free flow of its contents.

Though his heart clutched, Hannibal made no sound as Chavez leaned over Devyni's crib rail.

The aggressor reached for the baby, now huddled against the back of his crib in a futile attempt to avoid the contact. The boy called out for his father but didn't scream though he was clearly frightened as Chavez lifted Devyni awkwardly by one of the boy's arms. Young Hannibal dangled uncomfortably, kicking his legs as she struggled with all his might in an attempt to avoid being removed from the safety of the crib.

Shaking the boy, Chavez warned, "Stop kicking and just cry you little rat before I drop you on your worthless head! I need you to scream for your father. If you want me to put you down, you need you to call for Papa."

Devyni's mouth tightened, refusing to utter a sound as if understanding Chavez's intent and decisively denying him the satisfaction.

That's right, my son. Don't allow fear to rule. Stand fast, Little Man.

Jiggling the boy, allowing the tiny body to sway, Chavez insured, "Don't worry. I don't want to kill you. Not without Hannibal here to witness my pleasure as I steal your last breath."

Steal my son's last breath? Trust now that your death will be remarkably painful and my pleasure in it will be exceptional in every way.

Realizing that his child in this man's hands would limit his ability to attack, Hannibal stood very slowly, rising from behind Chavez in order that Devyni might see him.

The moment Devyni's eyes lighted on his father, confident, the boy fell silent.

Still dangling the boy's tiny body over the mattress, Chavez lowered and lifted him several times, attempting to frighten the child. As he dipped and raised the boy much like you would dunk a steeping tea bag, Chavez laughed.

"I'll cook you in a pot and feed you to your father, you scrawny rat. Cry for your father so I can smother you in front of his face. I want to hear him beg for your life as I watch the tears spill from his devilish eyes."

Stepping closer still, Hannibal studied Chavez's movements as he prepared to grip the wrist of the arm that held his son. It was his intention to immobilize the arm as he simultaneously disabled his son's attacker.

Trust that my devilish eyes are the last you will see. Prepare to die, Chavez.

Using his left arm to grip the man across his body, his only intention to save his son, Hannibal wrapped his right hand around Chavez's forearm, gripping the wrist and trapping the limb. With one vicious yank Hannibal braced the wrist, tugging against the elbow, hyperextending the joint. Snapping the anatomical hinge like a dry twig, the bones whined and cracked, separating the skeletal segment at the elbow. The pain was so immediate and intense the man attempted to release the boy, but the grip was locked.

Hannibal slowly lowered the busted limb into the crib and slid his hand along Chavez's arm, peeling open the fingers and allowing Devyni to tumble gently to the mattress, uninjured. Releasing the man's now useless arm, Hannibal thrust the threaded cap of the container into the Chavez's mouth, trapping the cover within the now terrified man's teeth.

Shoving the lid as deeply as anatomy allowed, Hannibal hissed, "It is more likely my child will witness your last grunting breaths and I will feast on you, Chavez. Perhaps my son shall taste your flesh, as well. In either event, you will be dead, so it will matter little to you if my family or the maggots feast on your flesh."

Struggling to free himself, Chavez thrashed violently, crying out in agony as he clawed backward at Hannibal with the only functional limb he had at his disposal. The moment he reached for Hannibal's face, attempt to gouge at his captor's maroon eyes in a last desperate attempt to save his own life, Hannibal repeatedly squeezed the container, forcefully ejecting its contents.

The brutal and unrelenting motion caused a continual jet of talc to vacate the vessel. A rush of baby powder flooded Chavez's throat and sinuses, snorts of powder huffing in large clouds from his nose as he wheezed, desperate to clear his lungs.

Gagging, the perpetrator choked. Feeling no mercy, Hannibal gripped his throat, running the man across the room, sadistically slamming him against the wall. Cruelly crashing Chavez's head against the door, the man began to crumble, sliding down the door to the floor. Still choking on the flood of talc clogging his lungs, stealing the breath from him, he spewed dust and saliva in a frantic attempt to clear his respiratory system. Choking as he attempted to crawl toward the door, Chavez whimpered, the pain unbearable as he dragged himself along the floor, his useless limb trailing behind.

"Come my son, you should be sleeping. Daddy will hold you close. You may sleep soundly knowing you are safe."

Without another word, Hannibal went to the crib, and lifted his son, holding the boy's face against his chest. Obviously exhausted, Devyni closed his eyes, comforted by the sound of his father's strong heartbeat and firm grip. Wanting to fully enjoying this moment, Hannibal cradled his son, walking behind the crawling man.

"I thank you for this pleasure, Chavez. This will be quite the education for my son."

Still crawling, Chavez gasped, barely able to speak, "Leave…me…alone…"

"No." Stomping down on Chavez's back Hannibal crushed him to the floor, taunting, "Where are you going? Surely you haven't tired of my company so soon?"

Eyes wild as he searched for any escape, Chavez dragged his useless arm behind him, reaching with the other limb to claw across the floor. He begged, crying as the powder stung his eyes, his words croaking from within his talc-flooded mouth, "Let…me go…I didn't…hurt…the boy. You... can't…kill me…here…in front…of…your…son."

"No?" Hannibal sneered, "Watch me."

Drawing back his right leg, Hannibal kicked Chavez in the face, crushing his left orbital socket. Reacting to the blow, the man's head slammed violently against the floor, knocking him to a semi-conscious state. The man crumbled in a pile at Hannibal's feet.

"I am growing tired of your presence. It is time for you to die."

Standing over the near-lifeless man, Hannibal stepped directly on Chavez's throat, pressing hard. Holding his foot firm, the defensive father steadily increased the pressure, effectively choking off Chavez's already compromised oxygen supply. As the life seeped from his victim, Hannibal sang a lullaby to his son, rocking the unaware boy gently to sleep. Soon, Chavez began to convulse.

Hannibal sang.

Ever alert, Hannibal turned his head toward the door. His nostrils flared, his senses alert, he had but one thought…

Clarice.

Husband, Father even, might have been concerned by her approach, but this was Predator, Protector. He would not relent, no matter the reaction, until this man at his feet had choked on his last breath.

I cannot be stopped. My vengeance will not be quelled. I will taste this man's flesh.

The deed was not yet done but Clarice would soon enter the room. There was no way to guess what her reaction might be. Not that Hannibal cared. What was unleashed cannot be controlled. Should not be controlled.

His body reacting in his sleep much like in his dream, Hannibal's heart began to thump wildly within his ribs. He stirred, restless within this dreamscape, his sub-conscious mind in turmoil recognizing that within his mind's eye, he was murdering a man in front of his son. True, the boy was sleeping, but would Clarice understand?

Intent on ending this man's life in order to protect his family, no matter what the personal cost, Hannibal Lecter stayed the course. Dying, Chavez gargled on his own bodily fluids as blood and bile flowed freely from his crushing larynx. Bubbling and frothing from his throat the biological juices mixed with muddled clumps of powder still gurgling from his mouth.

"You are taking far to long to die. Please be considerate, my son needs his sleep, so, shall we expedite the matter?"

Forcing his foot to increase the pressure Hannibal continued to sing a gentle lullaby, careful that his son not hear the man choking out his last breaths.

Clarice entered the room and hearing her husband singing to their sleeping son, immediately assessed the situation. Seeing Hannibal had a man pinned, unable to see this person's face, she raised her chin, questioning without speaking.

His voice intentionally soft, careful not to wake his son, Hannibal whispered, "It is Chavez. I couldn't find you and he had our son, Clarice. I do not believe there was any choice left me."

Staring at her sleeping son, Clarice very quickly ran the possibilities through her mind. The moment she began nodding in agreement, Hannibal could see she had come to a decision. Without a word passing between them, Clarice reached for their son, taking him from Hannibal's arms. Cradling the baby's head very gently against her breast, she turned the baby's face from her husband's activity.

Leaning in toward Hannibal, Clarice kissed him briefly, but tenderly. Her understanding tone offering solace as she assured, "He'll sleep with us tonight, H. If you cook anything, no leftovers in the fridge and be sure to clean up your mess."

Thrilled, digging in his heel and twisting it slightly, he guaranteed, "Yes, my Love. With pleasure."

Pausing to allow his wife the opportunity to leave the room, Hannibal waited, though he didn't release his foothold on Chavez. The moment the door closed, Hannibal smiled a wicked smile. He would finish this man, and he would enjoy it. He considered whether or not there was any part of the man worthy of a meal.

"Perhaps I shall feast on your tongue. It is the organ you used to offend my son. You referred to my progeny as a rat, did you not? Perhaps I should retrieve my poultry scissors and remove it before you're too far gone to provide me the pleasure of your pain. I do have a very fitting final resting place in mind. The dung heap behind the barn should prove appropriate. Yes, when one considers the absolute waste your life has been, the manure pile is quite a suitable choice. Inspired, in fact."

So close to his final moments, Chavez was incapable of responding, though the terror in his eyes informed Hannibal he understood his fate.

Winking at Chavez to add insult to injury, Hannibal lifted his foot, wagging it in the air to torment his victim before finally stomping down with all his might, snapping Chavez's neck.

Pacing around the body, the good doctor enjoyed the tableau. When he'd stored enough images of this dream to recall with enjoyment at a later time, Hannibal removed the body, carrying the lifeless corpse to an area behind the barn. Flopping the body into a hurriedly dug hole, he dumped carcass careful to fully cover it first rocks, then soil. He shoveled a huge mound of dung that had been collected from Hannah's stall to be used as fertilizer, useful in covering the stench from the soon-to-be rotting corpse.

Returning to his bedroom, Hannibal stood over sleeping wife and son for several minutes. As Hannibal watched Clarice and the boy sleep, the pattern of his baby's breathing and the rhythm of his ribs expanding and contracting against his wife's body fully relaxed Hannibal.

After showering he joined his family in bed, each member now safe and secure. Soon, in real life, as in his dream, the baby began to vocalize, waking both Hannibal and Clarice. Shifting his hips, Hannibal pulled his wife close, the child securely cradled between them as Clarice began to nurse her son. Nestled with her head on her husband's chest, Clarice sighed.

"My Love?"

"Yeah, H?"

"Are you quite alright?"

"I'm a little upset."

"May I ask why?"

"To be honest, I was having the most wonderful dream about you and I'm a little upset it was interrupted."

"Would you like to share the details of your dream?"

"Can't now. I'll have to tell you about it later."

"Why not now?"

"Not in front of the baby, H. It was personal."

"Personal? How so?"

"You know, for a brilliant man, you sure can be dense. I can't tell you about it because by personal I really mean intimate. Get it?"

Realization evolving, Hannibal smiled. Not willing to let the opportunity pass, he offered, "Ah, yes. Well, perhaps instead of telling me, when the child has finished feeding, you might allow me to return him to his crib after which you can show, rather than tell."

Laughing at the speed with which he made this suggestion, Clarice flirted, "Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you, H?"

"Yes. Yes, I would."

"How about you, H? Your heart is beating pretty quickly. How do you feel?"

"If I'm being honest, I was having a dream as well, my Love."

Clarice entwined her legs around Hannibal's tempting, "Sounds promising, was I in it?"

Shifting his body to leave no question as to his intentions, Hannibal simply stated,

"Yes."

Not at all shy and believing his dream was sexual in nature as well, she tempted, "Hmm, sounds promising. How was I?"

Corralling Predator, Hannibal closed this incarnation within the strong walls of its cell and opened the door to Husband, to Lover. Predator, though welcome in his dreams and necessary, at times, in his life, would never be welcome in his bed.

Gripping his wife's hips Hannibal pulled her body tightly to his, shifting his frame, leaving no doubt of his current level of arousal. Because she believed his dream, too, was sexual in nature, Hannibal allowed her assumption. Commenting with a salacious tenor to his voice, his admiration of his wife was honest, vibrant and transparent, his hands smoothing over the curves and planes of her body, kissing her tenderly, he asserted with all sincerity, "Clarice, you were magnificent."

Until the next chapter, my friends!

LH