Flambé
Hell for Leather, Market St SE, Roanoke, Virginia. 17:11pm
Hannibal thinks to himself for a moment, of the merriment he feels in (Name)'s presence. They talk more; bantering and quipping to and frow as they walk back to Will, Jack and the rest of the officers. However, the merriment does not continue.
Will and Jack stand in the middle of the street, Jack venting into his phone with Will staring wearily into the distance. Hannibal places a hand onto Will's shoulder, "What has happened Will?"
Will stiffens and blinks repeatedly, as if suddenly awoken from a dream. He looks to Hannibal and nods as his hand rubs his eyes from under his glasses. "They lost him." He sighs, "the van was found at a Shell gas station, off the 220, where he killed someone else and stole their car."
"Oh my lord, that's terrible." (Name) says, joining the conversation. "Any CCTV?"
"Broken, hadn't worked for weeks apparently."
"FUCK!" Jack storms over, throwing his phone back into his jacket pocket. Veins protruding from his temples and sweat covering his brow from furious exertion. Crawford huffs heatedly; eyes to the sky and fingers tapping wrathfully on his hips as he steps back to the group. "No CCTV! No Vehicle Reg! All we have is a blue Toyota Yaris and ANOTHER DEAD BODY!"
"No one remembered the Reg, not at all?" (Name) asks.
"Probably too busy staying away from the murderer with the big knife." Will says through a refuted laugh, "can't really blame them."
"Is there nothing that can be done?" Hannibal asks, "What about phones?"
"We've uncovered burner or pay as you go phones in the shop, guessing the brother would have one." Jack answers.
"Surely they used each other's numbers though." Dr (Surname) chimes in, "Could you use one of the other phones to call and/or pinpoint where the phone is?"
"With all due respect Dr (Surname), this isn't my first runaway situation." He squares up to (Name), looking down at her in his shadow. "I and my team know what we're doing and have most likely already done all your plans from A through to Z. And don't think I didn't see that stupid little stunt you pulled earlier, where you almost became yet another corpse on my hands." Crawford inches closer, demonstrating his point. "So, Dr (Surname) unless you have something of merit to say, I would get out of my crime scene."
Hannibal is perplexed to find himself wanting to stand between the two; to shield the lady from this rude and overbearing display. However, he soon learns that that wouldn't be necessary. Dr (Surname), standing firmly on her heels, back straight and head held high, too steps in closer to Crawford; gazing gently, but eagerly, eyes bearing into his own. "Is that so Agent Crawford? Then you wouldn't need me to tell you that the company, Hell for Leather, had their own private ethernet for clients to log in to and personalise their products."
Crawford backs away slightly, signalling for her to continue. "You and your team surely noticed this clearly advertise on the side of their van, along with a state-of-the-art 5G antenna wired into the van. The kind of antenna that means linked phones, and only password linked phones, can access as a hotspot router."
"What are you getting at (Surname)?" Crawford voice is stern, but his proximity and volume have lessened considerably.
"Doctor (Surname) if you please, and what I am 'getting at' is It allows one to log into ones' private account on the network, no matter the kind of sim and contract, and find the whereabouts of every phone logged into the hotspot." Then, like the predator taunting its' prey, she looks down and turns, walking a few paces away from the man. Nonchalantly adding "But of course, this not being your 'first runaway' and your very capable team having already gone through ideas 'A to Z', means you already knew this and had someone working on it as we speak." She turns back, heels clicking into the ground as if elucidating her words, looking directly in his eyes again. "Isn't that right, Agent Crawford?"
Predator bests prey.
Without a word Crawford turns on his heel and walks back towards his team, once again taking his cell out of his pocket. Will looks back at (Name) a smile threatening the corners of his mouth, clearly amused by her besting Jack at his own game.
Hannibal though. Hannibal revels in the strength of this woman before him; a strength in knowing she's the smartest person there but not caring if the others know it or not, because her knowing is enough. A strength he too carries.
Then, as quickly as it came, her prowess is gone and replaced by her usual sweet warmth as she converses with Will. "So, what happened to the other brothers?"
Remarkable woman.
Shrugging his shoulders, Will answers her question. "One of the brothers is dead in there," he motions to the shop entrance, "the second is in custody, but killed an officer who was trying to apprehend him." He squints, rubbing his eyes with his hand. "And the third ran out the back, hopped in the van, drove to a gas station, killed another person, and is on the run in a blue Toyota Yaris." He chides satirically.
"Oh, ok. Wow really has been a bloodbath." She looks to the shop, concern in her eyes.
"You're telling me!" A cheerfully familiar voice has (Name) spinning to meet it, "It's going to be a forensic nightmare in there." Katz looks to the shop then back. "Apparently you guys can leave now," Katz nods toward Hannibal and (Name). "We're gonna go through the shop and try to find more info on the current victims, as well as evidence of potential past victims. You guys won't be needed for that."
(Name) gives a hefty sigh, "They were selling leather products made from human skin. Imagine being one of the clients."
"Yeah," Katz nods in agreement, "I sure as hell don't want to be stuck with the job. Trolling through all the invoices and telling people they may have been wearing a human skin jacket or bought their brother a human skin belt for Christmas."
"You'd freak out." Will interjects. "Crawford still needs me though?"
"As far as I know, wanna head back over with me?" Will looks to both Hannibal and (Name), nodding them goodbye.
As the two begin to head back to Jack, Lecter and (Surname) are left alone.
"Well Dr Lecter," (Name) looks up at him, "it looks like we were needed just to be told we weren't needed."
He looks down at her, "Yes, it appears so." A smile curls over his lips "and Agent Crawford now knows the price of wasting your valuable time."
She stifles a laugh and shakes her head. "Well," She turns to him, "He was being awfully rude, so I reprimanded him." She says candidly, offering a small shrug, before walking off back to her wrecked car.
Hannibal watches her for a moment; transfixed by this strong and fiercely independent yet complete open book of a woman. Hannibal has never met a woman so full of fire but without secrecy or pretence. She is completely herself and makes no apologies for it, but there is nothing within her incurably dark enough to need apology for. Dare he? Dare he dream that this so impertinently innocent woman may be for him? Maybe his greatest challenge and long abandoned grace rolled into one? Shall he dare?
He shall see.
(Name) talks with her insurance before asking Katz if a car could take Hannibal and herself home. Crawford agrees to this and instructs an officer in uniform to take the two doctors home. After a brief goodbye and Hannibal checking that Will does not need his assistance, he and (Name) are driven to their respective homes.
(Name)s' House, Pudding Ln, Ellicott City. 20:34pm
After pulling up to (Name)s' house, Hannibal exits the car as she thanks the police officer. Opening her door, he notices as she hands the young man what appeared to be a $50 bill, before taking his extended hand and exiting the car. "Thank you again Hannibal." She releases his hand and closes the car door behind her, then walks to her front door. Hannibal follows.
"So Hannibal," (Name) starts cheerily as she opens her front door, "are we still on for tonight? Or is it too late for dinner now?"
"If you are happy to still come Ms (Surname)," he takes her hand in his and places and featherlight kiss in the back, "then I am happy to have you."
Their eyes meet and she smiles, "I would be honoured to be your guest." She says, mocking a curtsy. They both chuckle at their playing as she types his address and time for dinner into her phone. They bid each other goodbye, and he enters the car; watching her wave them away as they drive out of sight.
Hannibals' House, Lowther St, Baltimore. 21:46pm
The doorbell rings throughout the house. As Hannibal takes the bread out of the oven, he looks at his watch. "Early," he grins "wouldn't expect anything else." Placing the bread on the counter he drapes the white tea towel over his shoulder and makes his way to the front door. She stands before him; a long black cape with a fur trim swung over her shoulders matched with black high heels that strap round her ankles.
"Hello, Hannibal." She smiles at him through plump, light pink lips.
"Good evening (Name)," Hannibal smiles back, "Please, do come in." Opening the door wider he extends his hand into the foyer, welcoming her in. She steps inside and he closes the door. "May I take your cape?"
She nods, saying a polite "thank you" as she begins to unwrap it from her neck. But he stops her; his hands sliding onto her shoulders and gently freeing them from the black cloth. Revealing what was hidden underneath; an oyster satin bardot cocktail dress. It's tight fit accentuating every curve and angle of her body. The almost origami style folding of the off-shoulder sleeves framing her bare neck and shoulders perfectly. Pale, shimmering satin contrasting against the dark designs and dim lighting of his home; an elegant beacon of light amongst his dark trappings. A true vision.
"I'm sorry if I am too early," she says, breaking his stupor. "I wasn't sure how bad the traffic would be, or how long it would take to get here."
"Nonsense," he hangs up her cape. "There is nothing to apologise for." He assures her, walking round to face her from the foyer doorway. "However, I feel I must apologise, as I have not quite finished in the kitchen." He admits, looking her in the eye. "So would you like to accompany me to my kitchen, or wait for me in the dining room?"
She steps forward, meeting him almost toe-to-toe in the doorway. "I would love to join you in the kitchen. Peak behind the curtain, as it were." Her gentle smile can be heard in her voice as she lightly places her hand on his arm.
Hannibal leads the way into the kitchen, where he busies himself with finishing the meal. He chops, slices and spreads the food, all the while stealing sly glances at her as she stands in the doorway.
"You have a truly beautiful home Hannibal." She says, breaking his thoughts. "Do you do all your own interior designing and decorating?"
"Thank you, and yes, I do." He says as he throws various vegetables into a roasting tin, wiping his hands on the white apron tied around his waist. "When I moved in, I took a week designing how I wanted the whole house and executing everything to those plans." Placing the roasting dish into the oven, Hannibal moves to his fridge and removes an array of items. "As I was also setting up my practice, I did illicit the help from some decorators for minor things such as painting and wallpapering, but I did do much of it myself."
Her heels ring out against the cold tile floor as she approaches the wooden chopping block opposite him. "Your kitchen is like stepping into a restaurant."
Filling small ramekins with butter, he chuckles. "Not as grand or high-tech as yours I'm afraid."
"Mines a show-pony of a kitchen." She walks over to the metal counter, appraising his kitchen. "All style without any heart. This. I love this; it's functional and designed to be used." Folding her arms together, (Name) leans forward on the counter. "I can really tell that you designed this."
"How so?" He mutters, making a point to concentrate on the food and not the delectable view he has of her breasts.
"It's imposing without being 'showy'." She answers, "there is a place for everything, and everything's in its place." She looks around the area, "Like you," then at him. "The rest of this house, from what I have seen, has been designed to wow and impress. To offer a show to the guests." Hannibal pauses in his movement, intrigued by her thoughts. "But the kitchen is yours. Where your passion for cooking and creating comes alive. It is your sacred space and designed in a way that allows you to be your best, not just look it." She takes in a breath, "I truly love it."
"Thank you." He nods at her observations before returning to his preparations. "Yes, I suppose you're right; this is my own sanctuary. I am very particular with my food and have found immense joy in cooking and, as you put it, creating." Hannibal finishes with the plates and moves back to his fridge. "It is a pleasure to be seen clearly and yet so highly by you (Name). As it is I have now finished, may I offer you a drink?"
"I shall have what you recommend Hannibal." He nods at her and produces a bottle of Rosé and uncorks it. "And you have been nothing but a kind and helpful gentleman since we met. To think of you in anyway other than highly would be rude and unjust." Hannibal pours the wine into two glasses and hands them to (Name) then turns to collect the prepared food. "Also, I very much enjoy your company," she continues as they make their way into the dining room, "and hope to be in it more often."
Placing the food on the table, Hannibal pulls out her chair and invites her to sit. "Thank you once again." He begins, pushing her in and retiring to his seat, "and may I just say that I very much enjoy your company too." He places his napkin on his lap then raises his glass to her, "and hope we see more of each other.
"I'll toast to that." She smiles warmly at him, raising her glass to his. "Now this looks delicious, what do we have here?"
"Ah yes." Hannibal's gaze falls back onto his plate, using his fork to point to each item as he describes them. "Here we have some of my own pork liver and cranberry pate, with sourdough bread, and a cranberry and balsamic chutney."
(Name) giggles as she spreads pate over her bread. "It looks like you have been doing your research again doctor."
"Why do you say that?" He asks nonchalantly, placing chutney onto his bread.
She sends him a sly side-glance, "Because sourdough is my favourite bread. Also, I love cranberries and balsamic." She takes another bite of her starter, wiping her mouth before continuing, "though I've never had them together in a chutney before."
"Really?" Hannibal asks earnestly, looking at her then back to his food. "How peculiar, I honestly had no idea, though I am happy to know this is sure to be to your taste."
"Did you make both the pate and the bread yourself?" She asks before eating more.
"Yes, like I said earlier," Hannibal begins, spreading the last of his pate and chutney. "I am very careful with what I eat so I prepare everything myself." Finishing his starter, he places his cutlery neatly on the plate and waits for her. "I often make pate as it is a quick and easy meal when one does not have time to cook."
Again, she giggles. "Well, it is delicious, even if it is just 'quick and easy.'" She sends him a playful side glance, smile etched onto her face.
"I'm sorry." He says sullenly, shaking his head. "I appear to have given away my motives, and this is meant to be my repayment to you."
Suddenly she places her hand on his and looks him in the eye, thumb gently stroking his skin. "Hannibal, I'm joking. It's stunning, it really is." She removes her hand to place her cutlery like he had. "I highly enjoyed it, actually I'm sad that there isn't more because it's so delicious."
It's his turn to laugh now. "Good. I'm glad you liked it." He says, gathering up their plates. "Are you ready for the next course?"
"Very much so thank you." She beams at him. "What are we having?"
"Roasted rack of lamb," he beams back, "served with seasonal vegetables and a red wine and beetroot jus." With that he disappears into his kitchen to prepare their main course, darting back and forth to place cutlery and pour more wine. Finally, he enters back from the kitchen with their dinner; serving her first then himself before sitting back down.
"You are spoiling me doctor," she begins, picking up her cutlery and surveying her plate. "Lamb is also my favourite meat. I am finding it hard to believe that you have not been researching me." After having a couple of mouthfuls of dinner, she looks to him again. "Or perhaps your powers of deduction are much greater than we even realise." Her eyes glinting playfully.
"Maybe," a low chortle rumbles in this throat. "Though I feel if I were to ask for your favourite foods, you would tell me."
"Hannibal, I would answer truthfully to any question you asked me." She says simply, putting some more food into her mouth.
He looks at her; strangely moved and elated by her statement. "Thank you. I do get the sense you would." It's the truth, he does. He feels she would tell him anything he asked and, what is more, he wants to do the same. Dangerous thought. He changes the subject. "Are you enjoying your lamb?"
"It's beautifully tender," she says taking another mouthful. "I usually like my meat somewhere between blue and rare, but this is just exquisite."
He pauses, slightly turning his head in questioning. "Really?" Then continues with his meal. "I am the same, I like my meat as blue as it can be." They continue is comfortable silence for a few moments before Hannibal breaks it. "Forgive me for saying, but I wouldn't have taken you as much of a meat eater, let alone blue?"
(Name) lets out a throaty laugh at his remark. "I get things like that a lot."
"I'm sorry for being so presumptuous."
Swallowing, she raises a hand to him in protest. "Don't be." Cutting into her vegetables (Name) continues. "I completely understand; My lifestyle, my professions, my small stature and the fact that I am a woman," she gestures to her person, "all contribute to certain 'presumptions' about me." She takes a sip of wine, "however, if your presumptions only go as far as my culinary preferences, then I can forgive you." She gives him a wink to show her playful tone.
"Thank you," he chuckles in response. "I shall never presume anything about you again."
"You would never need to." (Name) mops up the last of the jus with the last of her vegetables. "Like I said earlier, all you need do is ask and I shall answer you truthfully." He listens to her tender words. "I have nothing, and wish for nothing, to hide from you."
Sipping his wine he is spellbound by her words. "You are unlike anyone I have ever met (Name). You do and say as you please, without holding back, but aren't brash or rude and your actions have no malice." Hannibal places his cutlery gracefully onto his empty plate and leans back in his chair, wine in hand. "You take genuine pleasure from being good and nice to everyone, but not afraid to put people in their place." He sips his wine before adding, "like earlier this evening when you gave that officer $50."
She looks to him, face quickly turning from surprise to a smile. "Well, he had driven us both such an awfully long way back." She says, finishing the last of her dinner and placing her cutlery on the plate. "And was pleasant; talking about his mothers' flower shop and that." (Name) too sits back in her chair and sips her wine. "I wanted to compensate him in some way."
"You are a true marvel Miss (Surname)," Hannibal sits forward in his chair, elbows on the table and wine between his fingers. Looking her dead in the eye. "And I consider myself lucky to be counted amongst your friends."
(Name) mimics his actions and moves closer to him. "And I yours Dr Lecter." They stay there a while looking into each other's eyes; conversing without a word. He feels himself wishing to touch her; her wrist, her arm, her cheek… her neck. He wants to touch, but in a way he isn't familiar with. His peripheral vision watches her breath rise in her chest, and the alien feeling returns, forcing him to change the subject again.
"Now, are you ready for dessert?" Hannibal raises from his chair and gathers the plates.
(Name) once again sits back in her chair and looks up at her host; watching as he walks into the kitchen and back. "What have you got for me?"
"Cherry Jubilee." He answers.
"Ooh, sounds lovely," she says gleefully. "What is it?"
"Cherries flambéed in brandy with cinnamon," he explains as his hands grip the back of his chair. "Then drizzled over ice-cream."
Her face suddenly grimaces. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry," she says apologetically, "but I don't actually like ice-cream."
Hannibal raises an amused eyebrow at his guest. "You are full of surprises (Name)." He says warmly. "At least you now know I have not been researching you."
"Yes, indeed." She giggles in response to his quip.
"I have some vanilla cheesecake if you'd prefer?" He offers.
"Yes, with your delicious cherries please." She asks, eyes lighting up at the mention of cheesecake.
"Of course." Hannibal smiles at her gleeful demeanour and wishes to be closer to her. "Would you like to eat in the living room?"
(Name) leans forward in her chair again, looking into his eyes happily. "I would love to." Hannibal walks round behind her; hands resting on either side of the chair, fingers lightly brushing the skin of her arms, he helps her to stand. As she rises, she places a delicate hand on his shoulder. "Thank you." She almost whispers to him as he pushes the chair back in. Suddenly she dips under the table, coming back up with her shoes in hand. "Sorry, they were itching me, so I slipped them off."
Hannibal laughs and takes her hand in his. "You are refreshing, Dr (Surname)." Turning her hand over in his, he places a light kiss on the inside of her wrist; eyes never parting from her as he does. He sees her silently gasp when his lips connect with her skin. Standing up straight, Hannibal extends his arm in the way of the kitchen. "After you (Name)."
They both make their way into the kitchen, where they partake in chit chat as Hannibal prepares their desserts. Their pleasant chatter continues into the living room and throughout dessert. "Once again Hannibal, you're taste in décor is spellbinding."
"Thank you." He says politely.
"It says an awful lot about you." She says as she looks around, licking her dessert fork.
"Oh? Please, Dr (Surname)," Hannibal, placing his empty bowl on his side table, reclines into the black sofa and crosses his legs. "Do tell me What your professional observation of my décor choice is?"
Placing her unfinished cheesecake on the table behind her, she turns on the sofa and mimics his position; foot lightly brushing against his suit trousers. "Well, Dr Lecter, I see that you have a desire to control nature; your lovely herb wall in the dining room, stunning floral arrangements in every room, and in here," (Name) motions to the room around them. "The antlers, taxidermy, even the intricate carvings of horse hooves for chair legs. This is very telling for someone who has a desire to control, and even manipulate, nature." (Name) picks up her cheesecake again and takes a bite. "Psychiatrist suits you in that pursuit."
"Because I am changing peoples' nature I presume?" Hannibal swirls his wineglass with his elegant fingers before taking a long sip. "Helping them change habits and thoughts to recondition their own natures?"
(Name) points her fork at him enthusiastically, "Exactly that." She exclaims gleefully as she takes the final bite of her cheesecake, mimicking a mic drop as she places her fork on her empty plate.
Hannibal chuckles at her playful display, sipping at his wine again. "You are not only perceptive miss (Surname), but you are quite comical."
She giggles at his comment, "thank you, I do try." She places her empty plate back on to the coffee table and looks at him. "That was absolutely stunning Hannibal, though I have come to expect nothing less from you."
"Thank you, I am glad you enjoyed it." He places his now empty glass on the table beside him; sinking back into the sofa he looks at her, eyes appear to be searching.
"What is it?" She asks, dabbing her napkin on her cheeks quizzically.
"I have been trying to find your tells, all night actually," he straightens and moves closer, looking into her face. "But I can't."
"I have nothing to 'tell.'" She, swinging her legs round, moves closer into him.
"I know that's not true (Name). What I mean is, you hide, or at least try to hide, nothing." His eyes wonder over her face, down her neck and shoulders and over the rest of her body then back to her face. "I have never met anyone quite like you."
She moves closer to him, so close that their legs touch. "Is that… a bad thing?" He can see her breath quicken as she gazes at him, longing for his answer.
Almost involuntarily Hannibal moves forward, slotting one leg between hers and stretching his arm to rest on the back of the sofa; their faces so close, he can feel her rapid breath on her lips. "Not at all."
Suddenly Hannibal's' whispered words are replaced by her lips. Her soft, featherlight kiss is fleeting. So fleeting that, were he not paying complete attention to her, he might have missed it.
But he didn't, and he wanted more.
As she pulls away from the kiss his hand moves from the back of the sofa, tangling into her hair and pulling her back into him. His kiss is tender but powerful. His other arm wraps round her waist. Her hands grasp onto his collar, pulling him further in until their chests press against each other. Needing to hold her closer, and without breaking the kiss, Hannibal picks (Name) up by the waist and moves her to straddle him.
For the first time in longer than he can remember, Hannibal is lost in the moment; not thinking about what could happen, what could go wrong, what secrets he needs to keep, or 'things' he might have to do. He just thinking about what he wants, and right now he only wants one thing. Her. And not in his usual, culinary, ways, no. He just wants her; to hold her, kiss her, hear her talk, laugh, breath. He would be disgusted in himself, giving in to such frivolled nonsense with no clear gain, if it didn't feel so good.
He can feel himself becoming aroused as they continue to deepen their kiss. However, so did she. "I'm sorry," she squeaks out as Hannibal runs kisses down her neck. "I think I should be getting home," (Name) places her hands on his shoulders and lightly pushes him from her neck. "it's rather late."
Hannibal rests his head on the back of the sofa and looks at her, hands still on her hips. "Very well," he tucks a stray hair behind her ear and strokes her cheek, "as you wish." With that he kisses her one more time before helping her dismount.
Standing (Name) looks to the hallway then back to Hannibal. "Would you mind if I called my taxi?"
Gathering the plates and glassware he turns to her sharply, "You came by Taxi?"
"Yes;" she says simply, walking to the living room door. "The insurance company are sending me a curtesy car." Seeing Hannibal with the plates, (Name) stands with her back to the door, keeping it open for him. "However, the earliest they could get it to me is tomorrow."
"I see." Hannibal signals for her to follow as he sets everything down in the kitchen to clean later. "No need," he turns to her, straightening his shirt, "I shall drive you home."
She smiles and shakes her head, "No, honestly Hannibal, you don't have to do that. I'll get a taxi."
"No, I insist." He crosses the kitchen and stands before her, placing his firm hands on her arms. "I wish to take you home, make sure myself you arrive safely."
"You are an absolute credit Hannibal." Looking up at him, he can see her smile in her eyes before she plants another small kiss on his lips. "Thank you, yes I would love to take you up on your offer."
Kissing her back they then walk back into the hallway to get her belongings and his shoes.
(Name)s' House, Pudding Ln, Ellicott City. 23:12pm
The drive back to (Name)'s was full of stories, jokes and flirtatious quips. Having parked outside her house, Hannibal opens her door and accompanies (Name) to her door.
"Thank you again Hannibal." (Name) turns to him as they stand on the porch, "Tonight has been wonderful, a real pleasure." She wraps her hands around his as steps closer. "You can count your debt as well and truly paid."
Hannibal lets out a throaty chuckle, "the pleasure was all mine (Name). You were a delight, as usual."
"Thank you." She leans forward to kiss him. Their lips meet tenderly at first, then the intensity grows. However, just as he opens his mouth to deepen the kiss, she pulls away, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Good night Hannibal."
He smiles at her, "good night (Name)," and watches as she takes out her keys and enters her house. Hearing as she locks it behind her, Hannibal gets back into his car and begins the drive back down the dark lane from her house; a small, but still very noticeable, smile plastered over his face.
A smile that wouldn't last, however.
Driving the mile or so down Pudding Lane, Hannibal spots a car parked in a shadowed layby. Knowing that (Name)'s house is the only building down that lane, Hannibal slows as he passes.
A blue Toyota Yaris.
Realising what car it is, Hannibal finds a clearing of his own and parks. Removing his shoes and placing them in the passenger seat, he silently walks up to the car and peers inside.
Empty.
Noting that no one appears to be in or around the car, Hannibal's thoughts turn to (Name). Returning to his car he retrieves his shoes and phone and calls both 911 and the FBI offices; informing them of what he has found, where he is and the car registration, before driving back to (Name)'s house.
A sinister, bright orange glow looms over the trees and into the sky above her house. A feeling of dread creeps into him; dark thoughts cloud his mind with ghastly possibilities and what ifs. Hannibal pushes the gas harder, hoping to avoid his premonitions. However, he finds his speed was not enough.
The house is ablaze. Hannibal screeches the car to a halt on the driveway; scrambling to get out of his car, slamming the door behind him. The sight that greets him is one of carnage; fire tearing through brick and wood as smoke and embers fill the night sky, causing the air to become thick with soot. Hannibal shakes himself out of his shock and calls for the fire service. He throws his phone into the car and runs closer to the crumbling property. "(NAME)!" He shouts. "(NAME), ARE YOU IN THERE? CAN YOU HEAR ME?" He shouts again, but the noise of the fire as it rips through the house masks his voice.
Not getting a response, and running out of ideas, Hannibal removes his jacket and ties it at the back of his head just under his eyes; shielding himself from the smoke. Just then a section of the ceiling collapses, blocking his path into the house. Circling the property, he heads into the back garden where he finds the kitchen patio door smashed. Hannibal takes a deep breath and heads in through the broken door.
Being mindful to avoid the fire and falling debris, he searches for any sign of (Name). Heading into what was the hall, he sees the once beautiful staircase now blazing and collapsed to the floor. Suddenly the ceiling above him gives way and he crashes into the nearest room to escape. Hannibal groans as he pushes himself up from the hard ground. Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, he notices he's now in the kitchen. Smoke engulfs the room as flames threaten to invade from every entry point; totally blackening his vision and making it near impossible to see.
Hannibal's sight turns blurry from sweat and the smoke in the air, and his breathing becomes laboured due to the lack of clean oxygen. Finding it more and more difficult to keep going, Hannibal's mind begins to reel from the prospect of never finding (Name), and the possibility of having to leave without her.
Then he hears it. The faint wheezy cough of a woman. Hannibal plants himself as close to the ground as possible and listens again for the noise. The weak sound comes again, and it's close.
He crawls along the floor, using his hands to feel for her. Reaching the island, he manoeuvres himself behind it, and that's where he found her. Spotting the glass door to the courtyard, Hannibal wastes no time and takes one of the island stools and throws it through the door. Shattering the glass, he lifts the unconscious (Name) into his arms and runs out into the courtyard.
Falling to the ground, Hannibal shields (Name) and himself as the roof finally caves into the kitchen and rest of the ground floor. As sirens can finally be heard approaching the property, he allows himself to breath the cold air of the courtyard; watching as the rest of the house crumbles into no more than bricks, soot and charcoal. Relieved in the knowledge they have escaped the fire, Hannibal looks to (Name).
Still unconscious in his arms, Hannibal checks (Names)'s pulse and finds it abnormally slow. It is at this point a beam of light engulfs them, as a helicopter hovers overhead, and several FBI officials, police, firefighters, and paramedics appear. As the paramedics come to them, Hannibal takes charge, "we have a female, early 30's, unresponsive to vocal or painful stimulation. Pulse and breathing are sluggish, definite smoke inhalation, signs of asphyxiation, possible chemical asphyxiation." Hannibal moves to allow the paramedics nearer to (Name), and feels something hard and rough against his arms. Looking to see what it is, he discovers that (Name)'s arms had been tied behind her back."Is that rope?" Jacks asks behind Hannibal.
Ignoring his colleagues' benign question, Hannibal helps the paramedics lift (Name) onto a stretcher. "She's been anaesthetised, so run tests for incapacitating agents, such as chloroform or toxins containing properties of ether." Hannibal and the medics continue to talk as they work on (Name); cutting through the ropes that bind her and searching her body for injuries.
The firefighters manage to subdue the house from inferno to smouldering embers but failing to wake (Name) from her comatose state, the medics attach a 100% oxygen mask to her face and wheel her into the ambulance. As Hannibal is about to enter the ambulance with her Jack catches him by the arm, "I'm sorry Hannibal, but I need a statement from you."
"I'm sorry sir," one of the paramedics says to Crawford, "but he just pulled the woman from a burning building. I cannot allow him to stay as he also needs to be checked for injury and smoke inhalation damage."
Hannibal looks to Jack, "I'm sorry Jack, but it appears I must go." With that he sits down in the ambulance, which drives to the hospital, leaving Jack behind.
