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"Did you track Will's number yet?" Hannibal asked.

"No, not yet. I was so mad at you, and I got into it with Delia. I tracked your number, grabbed my case file, and came straight over here." Clarice explained, shoving the paper back into the pocket of her skirt. "It's been a stressful day, and it's not even noon."

Hannibal didn't need to glance behind him to know the file she spoke of was on his nightstand. "What case do they have you working now?"

Clarice's brows furrowed for a second before her eyes landed on the file. She relaxed somewhat from his question, but her body was still rigid. "No, it's my case file. From my stabbing. I figured you would want to see it yourself. At this point, I don't think it will be solved."

"Does Paul Krendler know about the attack?" Hannibal asked, standing from the bed and touching the file just enough to tickle his fingertips. If Krendler knew, he still had a chance of being their Beer Can Killer.

"I'm sure he heard about it. He hung around the office too much not to know about it." Clarice breathed before watching Hannibal lift the front cover. She knew the case information documents and her profile information were in the front. The photos of her stab wound were just underneath that single piece of paper.

The moment it happened, the pain was brief. It lasted only a second before her concerns of her unborn child took over. There was discomfort, but she nearly directed the EMTs herself when she was taken to the hospital. The fear of not knowing if her baby's heart was still beating was what burned her the most, what she remembered the most. It was worse than the screaming of the lambs.

She stood as Hannibal read through the statement. His voice was soft, softer than she had ever heard it. "You turned at the last second."

"If I hadn't, the knife would've gone into the center of my stomach. I turned just in time to see him there when he came up from behind." Clarice stated. Her voice was detached from the incident. "The stab wound was downward too. Bella wouldn't have had a chance, and there was a good chance I would have died from that kind of injury. Not that I'd want to continue living after going through that." She whispered the last sentence.

Hannibal moved the statement aside and felt like his whole body shut down when he saw the stab wound. His Clarice lay in a hospital bed, dried blood curdled around the swell of her belly, with a one inch gash where the knife pierced her. The attack was done with so much force that the stab wound had a two inch radius of purple skin around it from bruising. If she hadn't turned, the blade most likely would've slashed through her belly button. With the downward motion, it would have destroyed her uterus and any chances of future children to come.

The attacker had one thing go his way unfortunately.

Medical records showed that the knife had pierced the uterine wall, but only grazed the amniotic sac that housed their daughter. Just a hair deeper and it could've been catastrophic for both of them. "If this had ended worse, if Bella hadn't made it, would you have told me about her?"

"I don't know." Clarice said honestly. "If she hadn't made it, I don't think I would have had the strength to carry on. Losing you was hard enough. She was my connection to you. But, I never intended to tell you I almost lost Bella."

"Why not?" Hannibal asked closing the file. He kept his eyes trained on the sickly brown colored folder though.

"I'm her mother. I'm supposed to be able to protect her from anything." Clarice stated. "I was carrying her inside me, and I nearly lost her."

Hannibal smiled softly meeting her eyes. "But Clarice, you did protect her. You turned and saved her life. You refused anything that could harm Bella, including painkillers." He wrapped his hands around her hips, his eyes gazing down at her stomach. Back to where he knew the scar was. "You did everything for her."

Clarice smiled and hummed in agreement at his statement. "I have done everything for her." She moved her arms behind her and shed her blazer jacket, tossing it back in the chair she had been occupying. His eyes met hers with a question. "I know you, Hannibal. Do what you need to do to assure yourself."

With moving hands, he untucked the pink silk from the waist of her skirt. His eyes didn't leave hers until he knelt on the ground before her and was face to face with the scar. The last piece of the evidence that the attack actually happened. He loved all her scars, but this one meant so much more now.

It wasn't like the gunpowder burn on her cheek, courtesy of her killing of Buffalo Bill.
It wasn't like the faint mark on her thigh from her visit to the garage he sent her to, the cut that allowed him the first scent of her blood.
It wasn't like the mangled flesh of her ear where Drumgo's bullet hit when she shot her holding her infant child.
This was not a scar from the FBI.

This was her scar. Their scar. One that reminded them of what could have been and how precious their remaining time left was. A mark that would forever bring comfort that the body that hosted it still had a beating heart. It had healed and scarred. Much better than it remaining an open wound on a deceased pregnant woman as she was lowered into the ground.

This held more importance to him than any other blemish or freckle on her body.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to the heightened skin. His fingers worked on her skirt, pulling down the zipper on her left hip and tugging the material down her long legs. His tongue flattened over the mark, and he grinned seeing the goosebumps flare across her stomach.

Clarice cupped the back of his head with one hand while the other gripped his shoulder. She kicked out of her heels and used her foot to sweep the skirt away from her on the floor. Hannibal's lips didn't seem to notice her movements as they were still paying sole attention to her stomach. His fingers, on the other hand, were not.

One hand pressed against the small of her back, keeping her body against his and allowing his lips and tongue to continue stimulating the scar. His other hand moved between her thighs. Finger tips tickled her sensitive skin before a thick digit slipped around the material of her panties and up inside her. She bit back her moan, but her hips showed her reaction greedily. It only seemed to motivate him further.

His finger curled inside her while thrusting deliciously. Her knees were weak in seconds, and she gripped his shoulder harder to keep herself upright. At that moment, she only needed one thing from him. "Hannibal."

Hannibal looked up at her before she brought his face to hers, pulling him into a standing position. His hands moved to her thighs and picked her up to allow her legs to wrap around his waist. He turned to the bed and kneeled down. Instead of laying Clarice down on her back, he let her pull away his sweatpants far enough before lowering her body onto his. With the added pressure of gravity, Clarice felt completely impaled and held onto Hannibal's body tightly as he began to move his hips.

Sweat collected along his brow and he nearly growled when she started moving her hips with his, using his body as her anchor. The knowledge that the only thing she clung to, the only thing she was touching, was himself made him work harder. Only air occupied the places his skin could not. Not even that could get between their bodies when their lips fused together.


Bella knew her day just got a whole lot worse when she walked into her last class with Chet to find him sitting directly behind her normal desk when he usually sat in the corner with the rest of the football players. As soon as she walked in, Chet smirked and his friends started whistling and staring at her like she was about to be brought to auction. She didn't feel that much different than a piece of meat at that point. That's when Winnie walked in behind her.

Thank God for her.

Winnie wrapped her arm around Bella's and hauled her away from Chet and the football players. Bella quickly sat down behind Winnie in the back so Chet couldn't be in reaching distance of her if he decided to move. She leaned forward and kissed Winnie's cheek. "I love you."

"I know." Winnie smirked before seeing Chet glare over his shoulder at them. "What's his problem anyway?"

"He doesn't care if I want him in my pants or not." Bella sighed, dropping her head onto her hand. "He's probably got some sick plan in his head, and it's freaking me out. Look at him. He looks more like a hyena than his father."

Winnie covered her mouth as she snickered, earning another glare from the young Krendler. "He's been threatening you with that shit for years. What makes you think he's going to go through with it now?"

Bella rolled her eyes. "Because, he just proved to me this morning that he doesn't believe in the definition of rape. If he does, he doesn't think it applies to him." She saw Winnie pale when she mentioned the word rape. She had never used the term when talking about Chet, but the conversation with him was enough to shake her up. "Winnie, did he ever. . .you know, to you."

"As much as I hate his guts and cowboy casanova attitude, I said yes to every encounter we had. Of course, the relationship was purely physical." Winnie breathed before brushing away a stray eyelash that clung to the skin under Bella's eye. She flicked it onto the ground before meeting Bella's eyes again. "You're really scared of him, aren't you? He got to you."

Bella didn't dare look over at Chet. She felt his eyes on her, and she didn't want to give him the chance to see her discomfort. It would only motivate him further. "He tried to ram his tongue down my throat when we were four. I don't think my saying no to him will change his mind. It hasn't in nearly fourteen years. Of course, I'm fucking scared. You weren't there this morning. He spoke as if he had some claim over me, like I was already his."

Winnie bit her lip when the second bell rang after their lunch. "I've got your back, Bells. If you need me for anything, just let me know."

"Thanks, Win." Bella smiled before their teacher pronounced the beginning of his lecture as if it were scripture.

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