Mischa Lecter

Chapter 2: All To Familiar

Hannah drifted in and out of consciousness during the next few weeks. She was taken to doctor after doctor in country after country trying to fix her hand and arm. She had over 20 surgeries in the last 6 weeks. Half of them were minor things, but none the less. Clarice felt surges of pity as she sat and watched her daughter's still fitful sleep. Hannah couldn't move much, her arm was braced from the top of her shoulders all the way down to the tips of her fingers on her left hand. They were lightening the medicine, finally. Maybe she'd be able to eat on her own soon.

The next two weeks were filled of relearning simple things and tears. Hannah refused to come to terms with her brothers death. Downright refused, she defiantly inherited Clarice's stubbornness. It took her dozens of tries to walk, she was fairly good at eating, not so good at talking. Clarice felt like Hannah was a toddler again, but this time she didn't have to teach her alone.

We can find Hannah climbing out of bed this very moment, the hour is 7 o'clock in the morning and the sun is just peaking over the Ireland countryside outside the teens window. She slowly, almost hesitantly, turned around and wandered towards the window. She rested her head against the cool glass, her right hand's fingertips pushing against the glass, how she wished she could walk well enough to go outside. But she had yet to master the stairs, so the best she was going to get was her view and an open window in the afternoon.

"You aren't suppose to be out of bed." Came a metallic voice from the doorway on the other side of the room.

"You didn't stop me." she whispered back, her voice hoarse from lack of use.

"No, I wanted to see how far you would make it without my help." he answered, his shoes making soft thudding noises as he walked. She knew this was for her own benefit, she had seen him walk without a sound. She leaned back enough to see the reflection of Hannibal Lecter in the glass of the window.

"Is Mom still asleep?"

He nodded as he stopped beside her.

She looked up at him, watching his profile with the scarlet eyes that matched her own. He glanced down at her and she looked back out the window. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, "I know... I know he's gone... And he's not coming back."

Hannibal continued to watch the girl, curiosity coursing its way through him.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him in the glass, "It doesn't make it any easier, and it doesn't make me want to admit it."

She turned all the way around and rested her back against the window as he sat down across from her.

She looked down at the floor, then up at him. "I feel like... Like someone has ripped out some internal organ and there's this... this hole..." her hand rested on the side of her stomach. "Something isn't right... That's how it feels. Like nothing is going to be okay until that organ is back in place, but he's never coming back." Her eyes, that had been unfocused, suddenly focused in on her father, "What am I suppose to do? Ignore the pain and just admit my twin brother is d... gone?"

"Say it." he said, leaning back.

"Say what?"

"You know what." His voice never became cruel or harsh.

She shook her head, "I-I can't."

"Hannah, say it."

Her eyes locked with his and for a few moments they both her silent. She broke the staring contest and looked down at her left arm muttering something incoherently.

"What was that?"

"My brother is..." She trailed off.

"Hannah."

She was silent, she just watched her brace.

He stood slowly and turned walking out of the room, as he reached the door he heard it.

"My brother is dead... And there's nothing I can do about it."

Hannibal closed his eyes as he heard her body hit the floor and her quiet sobs echoing through the large room. He shut the door and continued down the hall and down the stairs, all the while thinking that this seemed all too familiar.