II

No remedy for memory

I thank Astrid, my beta. She makes some very good work.

Only hours later, I finally emerged from my inertia. I hadn't been able to keep Molly here, and now no argument could ever bring her back. But I didn't expect to do nothing either. Alana had interfered in my relationship and she had screwed up everything. She owed me explanations. In an instant, my decision was made. It took me half an hour to prepare food for the dogs and to give them enough water to last until the next day. Then I put on my coat, tied my scarf around my neck and pulled on my gloves in quick, twitchy moves, almost trembling, before rushing out to get in my car and steer it towards Baltimore.

...

The road seemed to go on forever. And paradoxically, it took on the qualities of a dream. I drove absentmindedly, only paying enough attention to what I was doing so as to not end up in a ditch. My mind remained focused on what I was going to say to Alana. She had changed so much too. Her relationship with Hannibal had damaged her far more than anything he did tο me. In hindsight, I imagined it was a fate he had planned for her because she had dared to covet me. And perhaps, to make me suffer. All the warmth that had characterized her when I had initially met her, had been extinguished, giving way to a cold, vengeful and calculating woman, who enjoyed having Hannibal under her control.

...

Lost in my thoughts, I arrived at my destination and parked behind the hospital, before heading towards the entrance with determined steps. The security guard recognized me immediately, of course, but tried to stop me.

"I've come to see Dr. Bloom." I informed him, passing him by.

"She is busy with a meeting in her office." He told me, standing up.

"Does this meeting go by the name of Margot?" I asked, just in case.

And the expression of his face was answer enough.

"I see. So essentially she has time to see me. I know the way, thank you." I concluded, before pressing the call button of the elevator.

The doors opened and I rushed into the elevator and selected the floor. The wait was not long, the device was modern, and a few seconds later, I walked down the corridor, anger rising as I approached her desk. I was about to knock, when I heard a fragment of a conversation through the door. Words that caused me to momentarily freeze.

"Are you sure it won't show in the autopsy?"

I did not know what they were discussing, but my stomach coiled in anticipation. So I stayed quiet, and listened.

"I'm sure, Margot. Anyway, it's already started. It'll look like a heart attack and he'll carry our secrets to his grave. It'll be like pulling a thorn from my foot. I've played enough games with that bastard. "

Strangely, I kept an Olympian calm. My heartbeats slowed, my muscles relaxed. I knew who they were talking about. But I had to understand what had already begun and would not be seen in the autopsy. I concentrated, listening intently when I heard the squeak of badly greased wheels approaching. A meal-cart appeared on the corner, pushed by a man I had seen at some previous point. Trays for patients were resting on stainless steel shelves. A terrible feeling seized me by the throat. The employee passed beside me, like in slow motion, nodding to me as he passed me by. It's already started. I made a decision in a split second.

I trailed behind him at a respectable distance, following his route, remaining silent at all costs, hoping that Alana and Margot would not choose this moment to leave the office. Pursuing him on the balls of my feet I crept up from behind and clamped a hand over his mouth, coiling my arm around his chest and tripping him so I could drag him through the nearest door. It turned out to be some kind of tech room, judging by the wiring and electrical control cabinet. The man in my arms struggled forcefully. I squeezed his chest harder, blocking his nose and mouth with my hand until he gradually went limp before I put him on the floor. After entering the corridor again, I seized the meal-cart and hid it inside the tech room. As I closed the door I could finally breathe.

The impulse had been compelling and sudden. Now I had to think about what I would do. Realizing that the man would not wake up again, judging by his wide unseeing eyes and his motionless chest, did absolutely not help me think clearly. But if the meals were not distributed in the next few minutes, that would be noticed, so I didn't have much choice.

Once again, panic eluded me, held at bay cold calm. I realized that it was the kind of detached serenity that characterized Hannibal. I had only felt it a few times, and always in his presence. So, without asking myself more questions, for now, my body started moving. I hastened to undress the employee, before doing the same for myself and putting on his work uniform. It included a cap. It reassured me and I firmly pulled it on to my head. I'd just have to avoid showing my face to the cameras, which were conveniently absent from certain corridors, and everything would be fine. When I was ready, I left the door ajar to sneak a peek at the corridor to assure myself that there was still no one there. Then I pulled the meal-cart out into the open to take a stroll.

...

My knowledge of the facility layout served me well, and I arranged my route so I wouldn't meet anyone. I quickly made the rounds of the residents. Of course, some were surprised to see a new face and tried to intimidate me, but the uniform and my deliberately evasive attitude prevented them from recognizing me. I had creeping doubts, what if some of them were reading the papers? I might not have been a huge celebrity, but I should still stay on my guard.

When I faced the door of Hannibal's cell with no possibility of retreat, my panic grew, until it finally broke the surface of my inner peace. Because, of course, he would recognize me immediately and not understand. I'd have to act fast, but without sounding like anything was out of the ordinary as the area was monitored by multiple cameras. I didn't doubt that Alana, and possibly Margot, were in front of a screen, observing the scene with great interest, eager to see their plan succeed. I could not just go in there and try to send a message with gestures or words. I cursed myself for not having thought of it earlier, but when my eyes fell on a paper towel I had an idea. I slowed down and stopped in a blind spot. After feverishly searching for a pen in the many pockets of the uniform with my shaking hands, I quickly wrote some words on the towel. "Be ready tonight. Don't eat anything." Then I put the piece of paper on the tray, in an eye-catching position, for him to see it immediately, and I walked into his cell.

I pushed through the door, forcing myself to correct my posture and lower my head when I figured I was in front of the camera. I dared to take a sweeping look at the spartan cell, void of any comforts - his punishment for having contacted the Dragon - and I stopped two meters away from the glass that separated us. Our eyes met and I mentally thanked his intelligence and self-control, when his only reaction was a miniscule stiffening of his posture, but he said nothing and stood motionlessly. A voracious curiosity shone through his eyes and he smile imperceptibly. He waited patiently, amused by the much unexpected turn of the situation.

Still in a heavy silence broken only by the creaking of the cart, I planted myself in front of the trap, opened it and placed the tray there. The plate threatened to slip, but I managed to adjust it and put it in without damage, before walking backwards up to the door without turning my back on him. When I was far enough away to escape the camera, he advanced towards his meal, opened the trap on his side and froze as he saw my message. He showed no reaction, simply leaving the tray where it was, before returning to sit in a corner of his cell. He pretended to not want to eat. From a discreet nod, he informed me that he understood, and I left the room, after one last meaningful look.

What was I supposed to do? I wondered, while retracing my steps and the panic really threatened to take me over. As quickly as possible, I went back to the technical room, relieved to see no one there, except for the corpse. The layer of dust in that room had told me that nobody would visit it in the near future. I turned away from the body and rested my hands and forehead against the rough concrete of the wall. It felt cool against my skin and I closed my eyes, sensing the beads of perspiration recede from my forehead and my breathing go back to normal. Clarity returned gradually and I realized my actions had been dictated by one single fixed idea: Hannibal was not allowed to die by any hand other than mine. This privilege was mine. Alana wanted to deprive me of it, and she would pay for it. But later. For now, I had to decide what my next steps would be. While he was locked up, I couldn't protect him forever. Then I thought back to the message I had left him, and realized that I had chosen to help him escape at the same time I wrote the note. Be ready tonight. I had to devise a plan.

I took the time to put my thoughts in order. I was already inside the building, without anyone knowing ... or almost. The security guard had seen me arrive, but not go back. This would eventually seem suspect. But he also knew that I was intimate with Alana. So it would not rouse his suspicions for a few hours. He'd believe I just had a lot to say her. The most urgent issue was to get rid of the corpse. The man was innocent. Wrong place at the wrong time. To have him before me confused my mind because I had felt no satisfaction from killing him. He had not attacked me, he wasn't a killer whom I chased. I didn't have the consolation of telling myself that he would end up in Hannibal's kitchen. He was only collateral damage with which I would have to live. Fortunately, I didn't know him personally.

In a corner of the small room was a large metal cabinet. I opened it and saw that it was almost empty. Satisfied, I removed three shelves and leaned over the body to move my hands under his armpits. I lifted him clumsily, before dragging him into the closet and threw my clothes rolled into a ball. Then I closed the doors and locked it.

The absence of the body already allowed me to breathe more freely. I backed up to the wall and let myself slide slowly to the ground, before resting my face in my hands. I had to figure this out quickly. My eyes fell on the cart I couldn't get rid of. I'd have to find a new use for it. The uniform served me well too. I still had a few hours before taking action. It was time to think about how I was going to get Hannibal out of here without anyone noticing it immediately, to allow us to distance ourselves as far as possible. My car would be the next step, of course. It was already in the parking, behind the building. I would have to choose a provisional base where we could get a change of clothes for him and for me, and plan our next move. I temporarily selected Wolf Trap, as the destination. My old house. I couldn't sell it, and I certainly couldn't live in it. It had been abandoned since I'd moved in with Molly.

Since they wouldn't immediately suspect me to be the instigator of this escape – and hoping that in the chaos, the security officer would forget to mention my presence earlier in the day – they would not come looking for Hannibal in Wolf Trap. First, they'd search his place, they'd certainly question Bedelia, try to find any trace of the Dragon because he'd be the prime suspect; Hannibal's biggest fan. Meanwhile, my breakup with Molly would be the perfect excuse to keep me out of it. The timing was almost too perfect and I wondered for a second what would have happened if she hadn't left me this morning. How would I have reacted to Lecter's death? Why hadn't I just called Jack the moment I found out what Alana was planning?

The impulse that had pushed me kill the man whose body was now resting in the closet, it was a sudden and intense pull that hadn't let me realize what I was doing until it was done. I studied my hands for an intense minute. Murderer's hands. Molly had been right: she didn't know me. I was not even sure I knew myself now. I had calmly killed a man to claim my right to control the life and death of a cannibalistic sociopath who had manipulated me, made me sick and bordering on crazy and then locked me up here. Then, as he'd finally released me, he'd convinced me I was like him, only to abandon me. He had tried to kill me several times, but he had also saved me repeatedly, defended my interests, and protected my dignity. He had told me I was his family and that he would do anything for his family. Maybe he actually loved me. In a twisted way.

All of this however, would not prevent me from cutting his throat at the first opportunity.