Welcome back my loyal friends! Thank you for your dedication

No it does not excite me…it pleases me! I hope this chapter pleases you!

LH

CHOICES

Hannibal waited patiently for the arrival of the psychiatrist. He was actually looking forward to the process. This would be his first interaction with a mental health professional aware of his past, without the intent of mocking; at least not mocking that the Doctor would be aware of.

This is going to be fun!

Patiently, he sat with his eyes closed, and listened. Seconds later, he detected the approach of the guard and an individual he assumed to be the psychiatrist.

It will be interesting to see if the Doctor wishes to conduct the interview with or without handcuffs.

The pair stood just outside the door speaking in very low tones. Moments later, the large door was unlocked and the correctional officer entered. Hannibal watched for non-verbal cues.

"Doctor Lecter, although I explained it was not necessary, the psychiatrist assigned to interview you is standing just beyond the door and would feel more comfortable if you were restrained. Would you allow me to place the handcuffs on your wrists and secure the cuffs to the table?"

Hannibal smiled. Not a trusting man.

"If the gentleman wishes me to be placed in restraints, I will of course submit."

Hannibal offered his wrists and allowed the officer to link his hands to the center of the table. Seconds later the guard returned with the psychiatrist. Watching very carefully and assessing every movement, Hannibal evaluated the psychiatrist.

Demanding handcuffs? Do we have trust issues? Not a good way to begin our relationship is it, Doctor?

The appointed psychiatrist was carrying a briefcase. A tall, thin man, with a shock of red hair just beginning to grey spilling across his forehead, Hannibal guessed his age to be forty-five or fifty years old. He was wearing Khaki pants, a white shirt, brown tie, and a fleece vest with a utilitarian pair of shoes.

No eye contact. No confidence. Clothing, practical but with no sense of style whatever .Very middle class L.L. Bean …a definite New Englander.

Hannibal nodded a welcome and continued to seek eye contact. The therapist continued to avert his gaze. Hannibal noticed a pulse point on the gentleman's neck throbbing as if it would burst from beneath the skin. The therapist's discomfort pleased Hannibal greatly.

Blood pressure rising, averting eye contact, voice soft and wavering… Your paralinguistic cues are showing, Doctor.

"Forgive me, Sir. You have me at a distinct disadvantage. I am unable to stand and offer my hand to you. Please accept my apologies. It is not my intention to be discourteous. As you can see, I am indisposed."

The therapist placed his briefcase on the table just out of Hannibal's reach and spoke quietly, though he continued to avoid looking into Lecter's blazing eyes.

"Forgive me for having the restraints put on you. Perhaps as we build trust, we can revisit the issue. For now, I feel it is best that you and I both feel comfortable."

"Having manacles applied to my wrists and being shackled to a table is hardly conducive to my comfort Doctor. As I am aware the reputation of my past precedes me, I am all too happy to comply however let us make it clear that this is for your comfort, not my own."

"Yes of course I agree and appreciate your cooperation. You mention the reputation of your past…that is an extremely interesting statement. Are you insinuating that your behavior in the present differs from your behaviors in the past?"

"There is no insinuation. It is a statement of fact."

The therapist was scribbling notes furiously. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a small digital recorder. He placed it directly in front of Hannibal.

"Doctor Lecter, for the purposes of the commutation of your sentence, may I record our session so that it can be reviewed by members of the pardon office and the White House?"

"Certainly, Doctor…by all means you may record the interview."

The therapist turned the recorder on. He was about to speak when Hannibal, seeking to disrupt the process for his own amusement, spoke first.

"Excuse me, how rude of me. Please allow me to formally introduce myself, Doctor Hannibal Lecter."

The therapist looked up, surprised at the introduction. He did not respond in kind.

Hannibal tilted his head to the side, watching and waiting. When it became obvious that no response was forthcoming, he continued to speak.

"I have introduced myself, Doctor. Both formality and decorum demands you do the same."

"My apologies, my name is Doctor Philip Burgess. It is a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Lecter. You commented that the actions of your past are incongruent with your present behavior. Could you please be specific?"

So it begins. I hope you have prepared well, Doctor.

"You would like me to be specific in what way?"

"In whatever way you see fit."

Hannibal considered that comment a personal challenge. "Are you a married man, Doctor Burgess?"

You don't want Hannibal Lecter in your head.

"Yes, I am."

This is too easy.

"Do you behave as a married man in much the same way as you did prior to taking your vows?"

"No, of course I don't."

"No of course you don't and neither do I. My wife has been a very positive and powerful force in my life. Do you have similar feelings for your wife, Doctor Burgess?"

Burgess looked up momentarily. "Yes, Doctor Lecter, it is the same actually."

Hannibal shifted his hands one over the other rubbing his wrists together, the metal clasps pinching his skin slightly. Dr. Burgess looked down at Hannibal's wrist, obviously noticing his scar.

"As for my wife Clarice, there isn't a thing I would deny her. If you are aware of our history, you know that she was a former FBI agent and as such, though she loves me very much, the habits of my past are distasteful to her. I would not offend her sensibilities or disrespect her position as my spouse by committing an act that she would find abhorrent."

Burgess appeared confused. "Are you saying that you are no longer a cannibal, Doctor Lecter?"

Hannibal was relaxed and quite matter of fact about his explanation. "You question me as if the concept is impossible to comprehend. If my spouse were of a religion or belief that banned pork products, I would out of love and respect refrain from consuming such. Why would you assume this to be any different?"

It wasn't that Doctor Burgess was unconvinced. It was more that he really didn't understand the connection. "Isn't it quite different?"

Hannibal was adamant. He maintained eye contact as if willing Burgess to look up at him. The therapist's eyes never left the pad he was scrawling on.

"No, Doctor Burgess, it is precisely the same."

"Seriously you don't mean to suggest that the drive to kill and consume human flesh can be compared to eating pork?" Burgess questioned Hannibal but was not following the train of thought enough to comprehend Hannibal's responses. He was so busy writing down what was being said that he did not fully attend the meaning of it all.

Hannibal was enjoying the thrust and parry of the conversation. "Actually, the taste and texture are quite similar. The comparison is valid."

"But how have you been able to cope with the psychological drive?"

"To what drive are you referring?"

"The drive to commit murder and consume the flesh of the victim,"

"In my case it was a choice, Doctor…not a drive. The word drive suggests an urge or motivation that is not applicable in my case. I was not driven to cannibalism. It was not an unavoidable course of action. It was a conscious choice and as a free thinking man in absolute control of my faculties I am fully capable of evaluating my options, and have the ability to make alternate choices."

"When was the last time you committed murder, Doctor Lecter?"

Hannibal's eyebrow arched. "Murder?"

Burgess stammered, careful not to offend. "Let me re… rephrase that question. When did you last cause the death of another human being?"

"The night of my escape, though had Paul Krendler received the appropriate medical attention the outcome would have been different."

"And before that time?" The therapist glanced up briefly, but upon meeting Hannibal's gaze, again looked away. He was uncomfortable directly questioning Hannibal about his crimes, perhaps worried of rousing his wrath.

Hannibal folded his hands loosely on the table and watched as beads of sweat pearled on the forehead of the psychiatrist. He could smell the fear, the anxiety emanating from every pore. Hannibal was actually quite entertained.

Terrified of your patient? Are you too frightened to look me in the eyes, Doctor?

Hannibal answered calmly as if referring to normal daily activities. There was no hint of guilt or remorse in his explanation.

"While in Florence, I took the lives of a Sardinian assassin and a corrupt police officer. Both were seeking my death."

"And the years following your escape from Tennessee and the deaths in Florence, were there any additional murders or deaths?"

"No, since that time, I have not taken the life of any person who did not seek my capture and death."

"Do you believe you are a threat to the public, Doctor Lecter?"

Hannibal considered the implications of this question very carefully as a simple 'no' would not be assessed as an honest response. Enigmatic as ever, his carefully measured response was honest and direct without offering the answer the therapist was anticipating.

"No more than the public is a threat to me."

The psychiatrist was confused by this answer. "Why is that?"

"Because I have a wife whom I love very much and she is carrying my child. That being the case, my life is far more precious to me. I am no longer the only person who will be forced to live with the consequences of my choices. My actions will dictate the quality of life I am able to provide for my family, thus my choices will reflect the need to provide for them and to protect them."

"What if someone were to threaten the safety of your wife or child?"

Ah, is this an attempted trap, Doctor Burgess? Not very cleverly concealed I must say. You will have to do far better than that if your wish is to outsmart me.

Hannibal's maroon eyes sparkled as he turned the question back onto the therapist.

"That is a valid question and therefore, I must ask, what would you do if someone were to threaten the safety of your wife or child? Would you not attack? Might you not kill?"

"But I have never committed murder." The Doctor defended.

"That does not mean that you are incapable of doing so. If your wife or child were in jeopardy, and you had the capacity to stop the individual would you not use deadly force if it were your only option?"

The Doctor was forced to concede Hannibal's point.

"I might."

"And would that action of defense make you a murderer or a rational man defending his family?"

The therapist was now following Hannibal's point and did not want to concede. He was stoic.

"Please make an effort to answer honestly, Doctor Burgess. It isn't as if we don't both know what your answer will be as there is only one correct answer. What would that make you, a rational man defending his family or murderer?"

"It would make me rational man defending his family."

"And because of a promise I made to my wife, under those precise circumstances and those circumstances alone… I might as well."

The therapist's eyes shifted upward, finally making and maintaining eye contact.

Hannibal pursued this line of questioning to the only conclusion available.

"Therefore… what might that make me? Doctor Burgess?"

"Under those circumstances, I believe it would make you a rational man, Doctor Lecter."

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in please." Hannibal answered, knowing it was the guard.

The officer opened the door. "Doctor Lecter it is time to return you to your accomodations."

"Accomodations? Will there be a mint on the pillow when I return?"

"Sorry, Sir, all out of mints but I'll see what I can arrange."

Hannibal turned to the therapist whom he had lead through the interview like a puppet dancing on a string.

"I thank you for your time, Doctor Burgess. It has been my pleasure."

"Mine as well, Doctor Lecter."

Doctor Burgess remained seated as Hannibal was lead from the room. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped copious amounts of sweat from his brow.

Doctor Lecter walked back to his cell in the company of the correctional officer.

Thus far...it has been an amusing day.

THE PHOTO SHOOT

No one noticed Lloyd, clicking away with his cell phone, taking pictures of Hannibal being taken into custody. The heart wrenching images of Clarice running to his side to protect him…the SWAT team surrounding him like jackals, each photo more powerful than the previous.

Lloyd was proud of his photographic skills.

The Tattler's gonna love these!

Logan had done an excellent job, thundering around threatening and punching people. He created just enough of a distraction to allow Bowman to get the photographs Hannibal wanted.

Clarice was aware of the clandestine photographer, but forgot quickly when Hannibal asked her for assistance. She was so overwhelmed with the anguish of his situation that she totally forgot what the actual plan was. It wasn't until Lloyd showed up the next day with the photos that she remembered what Hannibal had intended.

"Jesus, Lloyd not the one where I'm putting the mask on his face, please, don't use that one it almost killed me."

"Hannibal was very specific Clarice. All the photos are to be delivered to Barney. He will sell them to that piece of crap editor at the Tattler. They will never pass up on this. They'll run them as soon as they get them! "

Hannibal was right in his assessment of Clarice. This plan went against every bit of intuition Clarice possessed and had she not promised to follow his instructions to the letter, she may have turned back from this plan.

"Dee, as soon as this hits the stands the Ripper will know we are alive."

Ardelia corrected Clarice.

"Girl, get ready 'cuz as soon as this hits the stands…everyone will know you're alive, Clarice."

Thank you to all my faithful friends who are reading and reviewing! You make every day a joy! Thank you so much

Until the next chapter, my friends!

Ta-ta

LH