THE FINAL MOVEMENT

Hannibal sat at his piano and though he was playing what would be described as an extremely technical piece, his mind was traveling another path as well. He had been having nightmares as of late. Not an unusual circumstance. Processing each of the dreams, he understood his subconscious mind was attempting to find a solution to the same problem that occupied a portion of his thought processes every waking moment, as well. The middle movement brought a possibility, though he knew it was not something with which his wife would readily agree.

Lifting his hands from the keys, he set them on his lap, smoothing his large palms back and forth, massaging the length of his thighs.

Will you fight me on this, my Love? How can I convince you that I must control this conflict, that I must have every advantage?

Hannibal closed his eyes, lifted his hands and placing them on the keys once more, began. There was much more of this piece to play. Surely, during the final movement the answer would find him.

Pausing at the entrance to the music room, Clarice set her son down in front of the door, but decided not to enter.

Suddenly Hannibal's eyes opened, a wide smile emerging as he looked to the door, anticipating. Scant moments later, the door was pushed open by a tiny palm. Expertly navigating the entry, Devyni toddled into the room, his feet slapping awkwardly at the ground, thrilled to be moving about under his own powers. Finding himself now in the center of the space, unsettled, as he was accustomed to being carried, the boy turned in a circle for a moment, orienting himself. Nostrils flaring, Devyni turned his entire body to survey the room. Stepping in the direction of Hannibal, though he had yet to spot his father, he continued to inhale, tracking until his eyes finally fell upon his father. Success apparent the moment the boy's eyes found Hannibal, the gleam of recognition sparkled.

Leaning over and waving to encourage his son, Hannibal beckoned, "Come to Daddy, little one."

"Daddy!" Devyni squealed, running toward his father with reckless abandon. Hannibal took to his knees quickly recognizing that his son's balance would degrade as the boy's speed increased. With two or three steps to go, Devyni reached out, diving forward, his desire to be with his father exceeding the ability of his feet to keep up. Giggling uncontrollably, the happy toddler stumbled into his father's arms.

"Brilliant! Your walking improves every day." Lifting his son and holding him close against his chest, Hannibal traced his nose along the boy's cheek. He pretended to whisper but kept his tone loud enough to be heard by his wife, waiting just outside the door. "So, my son, will Mommy be joining us, or is she content to eavesdrop from the hall?"

Twisting in his father's arms, the boy waved his hand, pointing toward the door.

"Mommy! Mommy! Come here. Daddy wants Mommy!"

His eyes brightening, Hannibal exuded pride, exalting, "My, my…sentences already! You are an amazing boy, truly."

Bursting in the room upset she hadn't seen the event first hand, Clarice questioned excitedly, "Oh my god, H…was that Dev? Did he say that on his own or did you tell him what to say?"

Hannibal wagged his finger, playfully shaming his wife, "Why would I do that, Clarice? The boy needs no help from me. I have told you on numerous occasions, our son is exceptional in every way. Of course his language skills are advanced. As I expect no less of him, I have no need to put words in his mouth. You can trust from this day forward, whatever you hear, his comments are his own."

Sitting beside Hannibal, Clarice scooted against her husband, encouraging him to move further along the piano bench. Shifting, he allowed her space. Leaning into his body, she melted against him, her face flushed as his body reminding her of the dream she had the night before, though she made no mention of it.

"Well, we all know his father is a genius, because you can trust me when I say, we all know he doesn't get that from me."

Handling his son with much more physicality than Clarice, Hannibal lifted the boy above his head. Holding his son in the air in a modified flying Superman posture, Hannibal zoomed the boy back and forth. As his son laughed aloud, Hannibal encouraged his wife, "Do not sell yourself short, my Love, you are exceptionally literate."

Playfully slapping her husband's chest, she joked, "Yeah, nice try, but don't forget, H…just because you love me now, doesn't mean I'm going to let you off the hook. You teased me so much about my accent when we first met you made me feel like English was my second language."

Leaning away from the piano, Hannibal shifted his son, seating him on his lap. Allowing the boy to reach for the keys, Devyni happily played the piano. This position allowed Clarice to wrap her arms around her husband, resting her cheek on his chest.

Hannibal smiled, adding, "While you had a noticeable accent at the time, your exceptional intelligence was always apparent. As you know, I am not a man who suffers fools well and am patently not capable of lowering my standards in that regard. I most certainly could not and would not settle for a woman of lesser intelligence. You are everything to me, Clarice and are as gifted as you are a gift."

Her ear resting over his heart, she smoothed her palm in wide circles over the span of his chest. She loved this man more than she ever dreamed would be his age, she often entertained the thought that she would be without him one day, the thought bringing a certain melancholy to such moments. She pushed the thought aside, cheering, "Oh you charmer you! Sounds like you're rallying for a little loving tonight."

An amused chuckle rumbled within his chest as Hannibal corrected, "Actually, I'm rallying for a lot of loving tonight, but that is up to you and entirely beside the point."

Clarice smoothed her hand across Hannibal's chest, giggling, "Yeah, why should tonight be any different than any other night?"

Holding his son, Hannibal's arm carefully wrapped around the boy's waist secured within the bend of the left arm, Hannibal reached for his wife with his right arm, pulling her close. "If you wish tonight to be different, perhaps I should up my game, somewhat."

Curling around his body, Clarice hugged Hannibal. In response, he reached for her burgeoning belly, gently forming his hand over the sloping curve, rubbing small circles continually over the arc of his wife's now very obvious and very advanced pregnancy. "Hell, H, if you were capable of upping your game any more, you'd be superhuman."

"One tries...one tries."

Laughing at her husband's wry sense of humor, Clarice considered, "You know, it's funny…the impression I had of you way back at the beginning of our relationship? It's nothing like you turned out to be."

It was a particularly loaded comment and one that Hannibal couldn't let go. "Confessing something, Clarice? Pray continue. I'm listening."

Snuggling close, she reached up, stroking aside the hair spilling across his forehead, curling it behind his ear as she remembered with fondness, "I don't know…you were a god to me…absolutely unreadable and so frighteningly brilliant. Untouchable."

A low hum as he acknowledged her comment, continuing, "And now that you know me as well as you do, you are of a different mind, yes? I'm certainly not untouchable."

Her hand floating down her husband's chest, Clarice skimmed down his abdomen and lower still, dancing her fingertips over his zipper. She teased for a moment, but a quick shift of her husband's hips warned her away.

"Probably not the best course of action, my Love. The boy…"

"I was just teasing, H, but I'm not taking no for an answer later on tonight."

Kissing the top of his wife's head, he whispered, "Have I ever turned you down?"

"No…and that's one of your most appealing attributes!"

The baby was unaware of the activity, happily banging his little hands up and down the keyboard.

"No. Not untouchable, but you sure as hell are incorrigible and I'm no better, so I can't complain. Now that I know you, really know you, I realize that if we're not having sex with each other, we're thinking about having sex with each other or we're sound asleep and dreaming about having sex with each other. I'm starting to see a bit of a pattern here. You?"

Humming once more, he spoke softly, "You are referring to last night?"

Nodding, Clarice laughed. "Yeah, funny. We were both dreaming about the same thing. Well, the same general thing, but probably not in exactly the same way because we have different…parts, but…well, you get my drift."

"Parts?"

"Yeah, boy and girl parts…get it?"

"Ah, yes. Well, if I'm being honest, Clarice…last night we were not having the same dream."

"What do you mean? Last night…you said I was magnificent."

"And you were just that, though I didn't say we were having sex. You made the assumption and at the time, I didn't see any point making a correction."

Obviously clueless to his reference, Clarice pursued, "Why not?"

This would be difficult to hear, but he would have to broach the topic eventually. Now was as good a time as any to set the groundwork. He would know her feelings about this tonight. If she didn't agree, he would need as much time as possible to plan ahead.

"Because the assumption was far more comforting than the reality and I thought it best to allow you a decent night of sleep."

Letting go of her husband, Clarice straightened, seeking his eyes as she asked, "What was the reality, H? You're freaking me out right now."

"Please try not to overreact, Clarice, your cortisol is spiking and our son is extremely intuitive. He will sense your heightened stress."

"Oh, don't dump that load of crap on me, H. You can't know that he has the same abilities you have."

"Yes, I can and yes he does, my Love. Have you not noticed the boy reacts to your moods? He clings to you when you're stressed or in any way upset."

"You're only upset because he's a little bit of a mama's boy."

"He is no such thing, Clarice. Do not forget I can sense the changes in you both. He responds to your moods almost as quickly as I. He is extremely gifted."

"Well, because I have no way of judging, if you say so, I'll take your word for it."

Nodding, Hannibal bounced his son on his lap, continuing to allow the baby to play the piano. As Devyni's chubby little baby hands bounced on the keys, Hannibal lowered his head, resting his nose within his son's hair. Breathing deeply, the proud father inhaled, his son's scent relaxing him. Clarice watched her husband tending their son with such unbridled love and affection. She adored this man, this boy and would love the child she carried with as much intensity. The feeling was overwhelming.

"H?"

"Yes, Clarice?"

"Last night?"

He hummed, signaling his understanding, but didn't speak, instead continuing to breath deeply, his cheek now resting alongside his son's.

"You were trying to protect me?"

Again, Hannibal tended his son, emitting a hum of comprehension but nothing more. Obviously thinking, he continued to touch and smell his son as if attempting to learn once more that which he had already memorized. Needing to see his eyes, Clarice leaned toward her husband and reached for Hannibal's hand, clasped gently over his son's torso. Unmoving, the attentive father reached with his other hand, covering his wife's. Stroking his thumb across the width of her hand, he kissed Devyni just over the baby's fontanel, the pulse thumping against his lips, causing him to smile. Closing his eyes and tilting his head, Hannibal rested his cheek on the baby's head.

Heaven. This is heaven. I will go through hell, if need be, but they will be safe.

"H? I think we need to talk, don't you?"

Not a sound. Was she ready? Would she hear him out? He would soon find out.

"H…please. It kills me when you shut me out like this. Please…I know it's not your way to talk when you're like this but I can't be alone…please, let me in."

His head low, nose delving within his son's hair, Hannibal sighed.

Continuing to urge, his wife squeezed his hand, assuring, "I love you, H…you know that I love you."

Again, the deep hum, that rumble of agreement telling her without words, I love you as well, Clarice. Stay beside me. Hear me.

Frustrated and misunderstanding his silence, Clarice raised her voice, insisting, "Talk to me, Hannibal."

Lifting his head, confused, her husband questioned, "Hannibal?"

"Yes Hannibal! My H doesn't ignore me! Don't you trust me anymore?"

"With all that I am, Clarice."

"You trust me with all that you are, but not with this? That doesn't make any sense."

"It isn't that I don't trust you, because I do. I am considering whether or not you are prepared to show me the same amount of trust as I have a solution to the situation with Chavez. You will not agree with me, Clarice. This will be a leap of faith and I am not certain you will be willing to allow me my mind in this. The plan is…unconventional and will go against everything in which you believe."

"What's your plan, H? Why won't I agree?"

"I'm going to kill him."

"I know that. We have no choice."

"I'm going to kill him here, Clarice. In our home."

Clarice sat for a moment. Her husband's eyes were intense. She'd only seen that look once before. The night they made love and he trapped her, restricted her movement…denied her breath even. He was attempting to teach her a lesson at the time. That there might be times he would know better than she…that he needed her to trust him, even though everything within her told her it was wrong. That is was dangerous. Unblinking and intense, without words, he spoke to her heart. Setting her thoughts and fears aside, with her heart, she listened, asserting without regret or doubt, "Okay, H…What's the plan."

His heart soaring, filled with pride, once more, Hannibal sighed.

"Clarice…you are magnificent."

Until the next chapter, my friends!

LH