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Bella walked out of her room when she heard more banging on the front door of the townhouse. It had happened twice already. Two loud bangs, like a fist, wracking the front door. Someone was calling out through the door, but she couldn't tell who it was until finally seeing the silhouette of the person now. "Why aren't you answering the door?"

"She's no longer welcome here." Clarice said bluntly, sitting on the bottom few stairs and glaring at the front door. "It's probably better this way."

"Exactly why isn't she welcome here anymore?" Bella asked, joining her mother by sitting on the stairs next to her. She swung her shoulder bag around to rest in her lap. "She's been your best friend longer than I've been alive, longer than Dad's been in your life. What could she have done that was so horrible-"

Clarice didn't turn her head, or even pause with the information. "She said that she'd rather you be dead than be Hannibal Lecter's daughter. She said we'd be better off if my attacker had stabbed me the way he wanted to when I was pregnant with you." Her arm wrapped around Bella, bringing her against her chest. "I don't care how she feels about Hannibal or what she knows about him. Wishing a child dead just because of who their father is, especially my daughter, is more insane than carving up Krendler's brain for an appetizer."

Bella wrapped her arms around her mother's waist. "Just because we disappear doesn't mean she won't look for us. As soon as college starts next fall, she'll be out in Europe tracking me down to figure out what's happened to us. I'll be a danger to you and Daddy as long as I'm traceable."

"Your father has already got a few new IDs for the two of us. You'll be in Europe during college. In the summers, you'll be flying to Argentina or wherever Hannibal and I are under another name." Clarice explained before two more bangs sounded. Delia could see them just as much as they could see her. The glass had a fogged design on the glass, but there were spaces you could see through. "But, you will be watched closely, especially if they discover the new birth certificate your father is trying to manage with his name on it."

"So, I'll have to disappear after college." Bella concluded.

Clarice hummed softly, seeing her daughter's point. "I guess so. Kind of defeats the point of getting a degree, doesn't it?"

Bella smirked. "At least, studying psychology, I'll learn how to fuck over people's minds and know what Dad is talking about."

Clarice giggled into Bella's hair before kissing her forehead. "If you ever get someone to swallow their own tongue, I'll be impressed and disturbed." She squeezed Bella again before tilting her head towards the hallway. "Go get something to eat before we leave. I'll deal with Delia." She let Bella go down the hallway and turn the corner before standing herself and trotting down the two steps before opening the front door.

"Look, I'm-" Delia began, but Clarice cut her off.

"Sorry?" The single word sent a chill down Delia's spine with the amount of venom in it. It was two syllables, but she made it sound like one. Dangerous like the rattling of a snake tail. "Sorry that you said it or sorry that the knife-wielding maniac didn't kill me and my daughter? So what if she was Lecter's kid? That doesn't make her him."

"You know I didn't mean it, Clarice." Delia pleaded, eyes desperate. Clarice briefly wondered if Hannibal would choose this moment to cut her off at her knees or wait for her to sink lower. "I love you. I love Bella. I was just angry. You can't blame me for that with how you've been acting."

Clarice scoffed. "With how I've been acting. I gave you professional advice, and you didn't like that it didn't fit with your theory. I don't care how fucking mad you are. You don't tell me that you'd rather have my kid dead than have her share DNA with someone else. You don't tell someone that you want their kid dead. Not when I've carried her for nine months and raised her for seventeen years by myself. I'd rather her have Dr. Lecter's DNA than Krendler's." She saw the shock wash over Delia's face. "Yes, I've heard I just said it. The rumor has been around long enough for me to think about it. I've heard all the rumors of who could possibly be Bella's father."

Delia sighed and shook her head. "I don't know how else to say I'm sorry. I said it out of anger, not because I meant it."

Bella stepped around the corner with her arms crossed. "You still said it."

"You told her!" Delia's eyes went wide with surprise, not aware that the teenager was nearby.

Clarice shrugged. "You told me that the knife should've killed us if Lecter was her father. I didn't want her talking to someone who thinks we should be dead under special circumstances. Besides, I didn't want her to be disappointed when she found you weren't at her performance tomorrow night."

"It's very rude to tell someone you'd rather have them dead than alive." Bella added before covering her chest with fake horror. "Oh my God! I must be Dr. Lecter's child. I suddenly have the urge to eat the rude." She rolled her eyes. "It'd make my life a lot easier if I could do that."

"I think you need to leave." Clarice stated. Despite her anger, she was still sad for this relationship to end. But, this was crucial. "Good luck with the Beer Can Killer case."

Bella watched as Clarice closed the door and leaned against it with a small smile to her. "This isn't going to stop her from looking for us when we leave."

Clarice sighed. "No, it won't. At least, it won't be a complete shock to her when we do leave though. It'll buy us some time." She moved away from the front door and headed for the kitchen to grab a few more things. "But, she isn't the one after us right now."


Bella watched as her teacher explained a history lesson she was already three chapters ahead of with her own timetable of when things needed to be done. She pretended, nonetheless, to take notes for the sake of the teacher not calling on her. He was a stickler for calling on kids who seemed to think they could just retain the information like a sponge. To the class, she appeared to be completely focused on the lesson. Little did they know, Hannibal's voice filled her ears.

"I would imagine you would bring this tape to school with you as you did with the last one. I still don't know if it brings you the calm as it once did. The photo books your mother has given me have been enlightening. Like I told you, I never dreamed of becoming a father after my arrest. Some of the photos, it's hard to believe your mother wasn't arrested or your DNA tested. Compared to the memory of my baby pictures from my mother's room, the only way to distinguish you from me is the choice of clothing. In other pictures, you look like your mother. The letters she wrote are in great detail as well."

"It makes me wonder what you thought of your childhood. You know what mine was like. I'm sure Clarice has told you about hers in some detail. So, how about another quid pro quo, my little bird? Since you are in school, I'm sure you have paper on hand. I will ask a few questions. You write down your answers. At the bottom of the page, you can write down any questions you may have for me."

Bella flipped over to a clean piece of paper and smoothed it down before the first question was asked.

"What is your favorite memory from childhood? It does not have to be significant. I once asked your mother this question, and she told me of how her father used to cut off orange peels and share slices with her."

Bella smiled and let her pen fly against her paper, labeling her answer with the question he asked above it.

-Having nights with just Mom. It might have only been her and I when I was growing up, but work kept her away a lot. Any nights I could have her all to myself were my favorite. We'd curl up on the couch with a large bowl of popcorn and watch movies in the dark. She devoted that time to me. I'm sure she opened up her case files once she put me to bed or she retreated to her room for the night, but she saved that time for me.

"You know mine. Now, I'd like to know yours. What is your worst memory?"

The memory brought an anxiety that always emerged from remembering it. Her thumb hit the pause button on the walkman, tucked inside the pocket of her sweatshirt. The tip of her pen stayed millimeters away from the paper until she could take a deep breath and figure out just how to word it.

-When I was seven or eight, Delia came to school in the middle of the day to pick me up. It's the only time it's ever happened. Mom had been shot twice, the arm and in the ribs. It was the first time I ever remember thinking I might lose her. We had to sit in the waiting room for hours while she was in surgery. Even when they finally let us in, I was still terrified. Mom hadn't woken up yet. I held her hand and tried to talk to her, but she didn't even flinch. I didn't want to leave her. So when Delia told me it was time to go, she had to drag me out of the room kicking and screaming. I just remember thinking that if I left she would be gone. We had maybe gotten halfway down the hallway to the elevators when Mom came out of nowhere with her I.V. stand and took me from Delia. I still don't know how she did it, but she carried me all the way back to her room and held me against her chest with my head on her shoulder. Delia tried to take me home a number of times that night, but I wasn't letting her go and she wasn't letting me go. I remember her even threatening Delia that she wasn't going to take me away from her. Whenever someone would come visit her, she insisted that I sit with her and that I wasn't going out with anybody. I stayed with her the entire time she was in the hospital.

Bella read over the last answer again with a deep breath before reaching back into her pocket and resuming the tape from Hannibal.

"When you first found out I was your father, you admitted that it relieved you. That my being your father had quieted the worries you had for years about who your actual father could be. Tell me, when did you accept that my being your father was better than someone 'normal' as you worded it?"

She smiled remembering the whirlwind of a night, or what she could remember from the night.

-As I grew up, I heard people talk about how you were a monster. I heard the stories about you from agents in the Bureau who had read your file. I don't think I ever found you scary though, or a monster. Mom would talk about you, and she knew you as a person, not the monster that they all claim you are. I guess I just always thought of you as another person, but I knew what you were capable of. I was more relieved than anything that my father was someone that Mom actually cared for. I didn't realize the extent of her feelings until recently, but I was still glad. I grew up begging for information about who my father was, and she was always evasive about it. I feared the worst. That I was brought into this world by a man who didn't want me or worse who took advantage of her. I don't know when I accepted you as a better option, but it probably started early with the way Mom talked about you.

"Alright, my little bird. Write down any three questions you would like to ask me. Fold the paper up and place it under your pillow when you get home. Since I never got to play tooth fairy, I guess this is the best chance I'll ever get. I will pick up the paper and deliver another one back to you in the same place when I answer your questions."

"Keep out a close eye. Remember, I'm watching as well. Stay safe, my little bird. With all my love, your dear old dad."

Bella held her breath to keep from chuckling, but the grin on her face was a mile wide. Ripping the page out of her notebook, she folded it up before writing on the lined paper again. "Love you too, Dad."

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