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Hannibal watched as Clarice walked back into the living room after disappearing upstairs. A large, thick book rested in her hands, and she held it out to him with a look of complete trust in her eyes. He gently took the book from her and let it rest on his lap before she sat across from him on the coffee table.
The book was a scrapbook, an Easter green color, with a baby picture in the small window cut out in the cover. In pink flowery letters, Bellona Darion was stuck on the bottom ribbon below the picture. His little, very little, bird. It looked like she was only a few hours old laying in the hospital bassinet. In an oversized pink onesie blanket type cloth, her tiny fists rested by her head. A head full of brown hair. Rosy cheeks with the right amount of baby fat to make her small size look healthier. Most importantly, she was peaceful.
He cast a glance up to Clarice. "You made a baby book."
"I made two. One for Bella to look at and anybody who possibly got that close to us. Only Ardelia and Winnie. This one. . .I made specifically for you." Clarice explained with a slight hesitation. "I knew the risks of my job, and I knew that I needed to give Bella her father in case something happened to me. In the event that I. . .became unfit to be her mother, I had this hidden along with the other gifts you've sent. You would find it, and-"
"You knew that I would stop at nothing to take Bella away from the custody of the FBI." Hannibal concluded, the realization hitting him harder than his voice indicated. "You prepared this for me in the event that you would die in the line of duty."
Clarice nodded, taking a deep breath. He could hear the slight tremor in it, and he could practically feel her pain when she created this. The existence of this book for him was her first admittance to herself that she would rather have Hannibal care for their daughter, even on the run, than have the FBI take care of her. Her first realization that her trust no longer lay with the institution she had once vowed to devote her life to. It was also a realization for her that she may never get to see Hannibal meet their daughter with her own eyes.
"You're her father. I don't care what you did or what you will do. I didn't care back then either. She's as much yours as she is mine, and I wouldn't allow the FBI to take custody of her if there was a chance that you wanted her." Clarice explained with a shrug. "Everything about her is in there. I wanted to talk to you, but had no way to contact you. So, I wrote letters and put them in this book. In the event that this would be needed, I knew you would find it and take Bella, or the FBI would find it and broadcast the scandal across the country. Either way, you would know Bella was yours."
Hannibal gingerly opened up the scrapbook, stiff from most likely sitting still for years. Each page was flooded with pictures of Bella from newborn to what looked like one year old. Some were photos of Clarice pregnant. Inside each sleeve, between the decorated pages, folded papers peeked around the edges. The letters. She had been thorough, and he briefly thought about how much she wanted to speak with him with these many letters. Had he known his need for her had been reciprocated, he would have been back for her before Bella could possibly remember a time without him there for her.
"I must say, Clarice. You are filled with surprises today." Hannibal murmured before flipping another page over to memorize himself with Bella as a baby. The pictures helped ease some of the ache. He could at least place Bella at various ages into his memory palace and imagine what his little bird would have been like as a child. "Pleasant surprises."
Clarice smiled softly. "All the letters are in this book, but there are more scrapbooks of her growing up on the bookshelf." She stated, pointing to the bookshelf that was built into the townhouse. "Reading them should keep you occupied for a little while when Bella and I head back to our normal routine tomorrow."
Hannibal hummed his agreement before reaching out and taking her hand into his. "I very much appreciate this, Clarice." He pulled her to sit next to him on the couch again before returning his attention back to the special scrapbook made just for him by his lamb. "This is most definitely coming with us to Europe. I think I might just have to create a special compartment in my bag for this. I wouldn't want to part with it for too long."
Clarice leaned into his side, closing her eyes as she laid her head on his shoulder. "I'm glad you like it, Hannibal."
Hannibal pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I will forever treasure it."
Bella shoved another bundle of fries into her mouth as she watched Winnie eat her chef salad with nothing less than the best table manners as if she were at a five star restaurant being served her the first of five courses. "Sorry again about the other night. I just got some really. . .rather surprising news, and I didn't handle it well. I didn't mean to pull you into it."
"Honey, you rarely lose your shit. I was happy that you called me." Winnie replied before reaching for her water. "It was actually refreshing to help you for a change instead of the other way around. You do things for me all the time. It felt good to return a few favors."
"I'm glad that my lapse in sanity made you feel better." Bella laughed.
Winnie smiled, but she was holding back. Bella could see the question burning behind her eyes and waited patiently for her to just spit it out. She eventually set her fork down on her plate and nervously fiddled with her hands. "You mentioned something about your father when you were drunk. Bella, you all but told me that your father was a serial killer. I don't know if it was the booze talking or if your mom told you something about him, but you were basically laying yourself out for sacrifice."
Bella bit the inside of her cheek. She barely remembered the night at all, and she couldn't even imagine what ideas she gave Winnie. "Shit, I'm sorry."
Winnie sighed. "Is your father really a killer?"
"Honestly, he probably has." Bella whispered. She met Winnie's shocked eyes and shrugged. "Whether he's a cop or a criminal, I have no idea. But, my mom has only been around those two types. Chances are, my father has killed people before." The half lie would at least make up for her hell bent attitude flaunting herself around in the park at that hour. "My mom and I just kind of got into it. You know that I've always wanted to know who my father is. It just all blew up, and I fled the house angry at myself."
Winnie nodded, seemingly pleased with Bella's answer. "I get it. You've been itching to get information about him since we were in four-K. As bad as the night went for you, it could've been worse if you had stayed at ballet practice until the end. Chet was hanging around your locker waiting for you. I think he was half expecting to take you out on that date that you declined to take him up on."
Bella groaned, dropping her face into her hands. "Why can't he just drop dead already? He's so disgusting."
"Why don't you just sleep with him to shut him up? Trust me. It doesn't take that long for him to finish." Winnie chuckled before wiping her mouth with her napkin. "At least, he'll stop bugging you. You could enjoy the rest of senior year without Chet Krendler reaching to get into your pants."
"I'm not sleeping with him just to avoid his advances of sleeping with me." Bella sighed. "I did that with Ray Thomas, and all it did was cause the rest of the football team to leer at me like I was on display."
Winnie rolled her eyes. "He's a big football college star now. You did good when you slept with him."
Bella smirked. "I'm well aware of that. He finished before I even got started. Luckily, his recuperation time was quicker." She laughed when a blush flooded Winnie's cheeks. "Are you done shopping?"
"Yes, I got everything I need for my dad's dinner party." Winnie smiled proudly, glancing at the numerous shopping bags sitting on the chair beside her in the food court. "Why? Did you have somewhere you wanted to go?"
"No, I'm just ready to not be here." Bella sighed, thankful that Winnie didn't know the full extent of how true the statement was.
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