AUTHOR'S NOTE:

To my fan fic friends- My husband returned home from the hospital for the first time in several months today. Thanks to those who have inquired and sent their good wishes and prayers. You made a difficult time much easier to bear. To Little Lecter, a very special thanks. TWIN!

THE APOLOGY

Based on the way he entered the room, as far as Clarice could tell Hannibal was definitely not himself. Well, not the self she had grown to love anyway. There was a stalking quality about his movements, something of the dungeon leaking out from within, she suspected.

Old habits die hard. He may be feeling some after effects; old memories must get stirred up every time this sort of thing happens. Thankfully, this will be the last time he'll have to go through anything like this. He deserves peace.

She could clearly see by his body language and his facial expression that Hannibal was not pleased. He approached slowly, sat on the edge of the bed, and bent to remove his shoes. As he lined them up beside his bedside table, Hannibal leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and allowed his head to hang low.

This body position concerned his wife. "Hey…you okay, H?"

Hannibal scrubbed his fingertips vigorously through his hair, interlaced his fingers behind his neck and pulled his head low, stretching down until his torso almost rested on his thighs.

This position strained his pulmonary system stressing his breathing and causing an awkward strain to his normally smooth voice.

"I hope that is a rhetorical question, Clarice."

Her answer was soft, "I'm just voicing my concern."

His response derided the solicitude as he rasped, "How touching."

She was taken aback by his sarcasm and paused, the acerbic response sparking an internal debate.

Is he overwhelmed? Maybe depressed? I should've paid more attention to him. He just seemed so happy I didn't consider how intense this day's been. I'll need to handle this very carefully.

Disturbed by Hannibal's uncharacteristic posture, Clarice climbed across the bed, draped her arms around him and pulled at his shoulders hoping in some way to relax his body and cheer him.

She struggled physically with his resistance. "C'mon, H…Work with me."

Hannibal leaned forward and buried his face briefly in his hands. "To what end?"

"I don't want anything from you, H. Just to loosen you up a little, nothing dramatic."

Hannibal mumbled an incoherent complaint and straightened hesitantly as she pulled him against her body. This caused his spine to stretch and arch against her belly eliciting a deep, almost pained groan as she raised him upright.

C'mon H…reach back for me…a kiss…a cuddle, something…anything. You know how much I want you. Show me you forgive me…want me, H.

As she was already prepared for bed she was unclothed and could very clearly feel tension in his muscles through his Italian silk shirt as she held him.

Christ, his muscles feel like straps he's so tight.

The realization struck her, as she looked at their bedside clock, that Hannibal had been home less than twelve hours. In her mind his time in prison already seemed a lifetime ago. Clarice was just beginning to realize that the experience remained raw for her husband.

I can't believe I was that inconsiderate and fucking blind to his needs. He's just so good at hiding how he feels…I didn't think…I didn't think.

A penitent approach seemed the only option that might bring him around.

Clarice rested her head between his shoulder blades, pressed her ear to his back and listened to him breathe as she confessed, "I'm so goddamned sorry, H…I was just screwing around trying to play with you a little and I didn't even consider that Bashandi would be back this early. I know that put you in a crazy position. Did he say anything? Did Mariyah see him?"

Hannibal's breaths were steady and measured. He answered directly, though there was none of his usual playfulness. No sweet and endearing flirtation. He simply answered her as he would a stranger.

"No, Mariyah has not a clue he overheard the conversation. As to what he said to me, he simply thanked me."

Clarice lifted her head and began to smooth her hands over the breadth of his back. "What did you say to him?"

Hannibal did not respond to her touching, instead, answering succinctly, "Not a thing. Words seemed superfluous at the time."

Clarice placed very tender kisses on her husband's back as she sought confirmation from Hannibal that he understood her motivation.

"H, you gotta know I didn't intend to put you in that position."

He rolled his shoulders to brush her back and deny her attempts to comfort.

"That matters not, as intention has little to do with outcome, Clarice."

Irritated that Hannibal would not allow her to touch him, Clarice began to seethe remembering Bashandi's comments to her. She wanted Hannibal to be as angry about it as she was. She wanted him to be upset with anyone but her.

"When he found out you were alone with Mariyah he insinuated you might be using her sexually because of my health issues. I almost slapped the skin off his face I was so goddamned angry."

Hannibal seemed genuinely unconcerned as Clarice recounted the perceived insult.

His voice was controlled and unemotional as he explained his thoughts.

"Clarice, Anwar Bashandi is not an American man he is a Middle Eastern man. Do you not think based on his culture, that this situation might produce an extreme reaction? Keep in mind he had just discovered that his virginal teenage daughter was in a bedroom without a chaperone, with a man to which she is not related and who has a somewhat dubious past?"

Clarice hadn't considered the cultural implications to his response.

"Well…when you put it that way."

"There is no other way to put it. Not to mention the prime minister has been under a lot of stress. Do not forget he would not be here if not for my situation. I wouldn't hold anything he said against him as he has proven to be a powerful ally and an invaluable resource. I can certainly forgive him an off-handed comment, no matter how offensive it may have been to your overly sensitive and obviously delicate sensibilities."

"Overly sensitive and obviously delicate sensibilities? Fuck you, H!"

Hannibal's eyes momentarily flashed fire but cooled quickly, reverting to a stable state much like a red-hot branding iron plunged into cold water.

The anger gone, he responded dispassionately, "Fuck me, Clarice? Not likely."

"Jesus, H, I didn't say or do anything! You're taking a harmless misunderstanding and driving it to an entirely new level. It isn't like I told the guy off. I was just pissed off is all."

"It is preferable to be pissed off than pissed on, wouldn't you say?"

Clarice reached again to hold Hannibal but instead of encouraging the contact, he slipped her hands from around his body, stood from the bed and began to remove his clothing. As he undressed, Clarice watched him move about. She was very hurt that he continued to ignore her presence and her obvious need of him.

Hurt by his inattention and seeming unwillingness to forgive, she rested on her side, and curled up with her pillows, drawing the blankets to her unsure of what to do.

Though she didn't expect a favorable response, she continued, "You're not going to talk to me?"

"I have been talking to you, Clarice, you just haven't liked what I've been saying."

"You haven't been talking to me you've been singeing me with insults and no, I haven't liked it…I haven't."

He took off each article of clothing and folded them neatly. When he was down to his boxers he spoke without turning to face his wife.

"You will, of course forgive me if that thought does not cause me to lose sleep. Now, if you'll excuse me, Clarice. You had the opportunity to shower after our interlude earlier. I was denied the opportunity and would like to wash the scent from me."

Clarice was distressed by his comment. "I don't like the way you just said that, H."

"And just how did I say it, Clarice?"

"You said it like you wanted to wash the memory of me from your body. It was hurtful and insensitive."

Hannibal spun quickly to face her, his eyes flashed with anger, "Insensitive? Really? How interesting for you to consider my need for a shower, hours after you yourself similarly bathed, as offensive, yet I am asked to ignore the fact that you foisted that young lady upon me knowing the intensity of her feelings and the awkward position those feelings would put me in."

Though Clarice knew she was in an indefensible position, she stood her ground, as there was no intended malice in her action. She was incredulous that her husband didn't recognize that fact. He was inordinately angry.

"Where's H? Where's my sweet, silly husband who would have laughed this off as being no more than an irritation? You know I would never hurt you intentionally. Why won't you forgive me?"

Hannibal headed for the bathroom. "I don't wish to discuss this further."

She was confused by his anger. He normally would have laughed off such a situation being that the young girl's angst was no match for his intelligence and intuition. She sought to encourage his acceptance.

"Come on, H! You know you would have had to deal with that sooner or later. Can you imagine trying to handle that situation through a series of phone calls or emails? God forbid that love struck girl took to the Internet and began posting her feelings. For Christ's sake how would you like to be the update on her Facebook relationship status? That would have been a lot worse than a few minutes of embarrassment."

He turned in the doorway before entering the bathroom. He seemed to have thought better of something. Hannibal slipped off his boxers, and walked across the bedroom to his wardrobe speaking as he attended to the afterthought.

"I do not recall saying I was embarrassed. It is certainly true that I would most likely have been forced to address the situation before she departed, it needn't have been tonight and it needn't have been in the presence of her father. What I am saying is that I would not have chosen the young lady's bedroom as the forum for that particular discussion."

He opened the chest of drawers, sorted around and retrieved a pair of pajamas. Clarice, knowing she and Hannibal slept nude, became instantly concerned.

"H?"

"Yes?"

"Pajamas?"

"We have guests, Clarice."

"Not in here we don't. I'm not dressed."

"I'm sure you have your reasons. Still, it would be disrespectful to be unclothed should one of our guests knock on the bedroom door, wouldn't you agree?"

"They won't knock on the door. They have everything they need in their rooms. You're just trying to…"

"Trying to what, Clarice?"

"Never mind." She rolled over awkwardly and allowed him to leave her without protest.

He continued to the bathroom, took his shower and returned several minutes later neatly groomed with his wet hair slicked straight back from his forehead.

Hannibal climbed into bed and rolled onto his side away from his wife.

Clarice, already in bed, rolled toward him and seeing his back, poked him.

"We've been apart for three weeks, this is the first night we get to spend together and you are just going to roll over?"

"We had sex earlier, Clarice. I'm exhausted. Prison isn't conducive to my circadian rhythm. I need sleep."

"Okay, you need sleep…since when do you sleep with your back to me?"

"Clarice, please trust when I say that one needy female is about all I can stand for one night. Do attempt for a moment to take my needs into consideration. I am beyond spent and need sleep."

"What did you just say? Did you just call me needy?"

Hannibal didn't reply to her question. Instead, he punched his pillow several times with far more exertion than a simple adjustment to it would have dictated, stuffed it under his head and closed his eyes preparing to sleep.

Clarice was sitting up in bed staring incredulously at Hannibal. He could feel her eyes burning into the back of his head.

Clarice's eyes were hot with a blend of anger and recrimination. She touched his shoulder gently.

"H, I'm sorry…H?"

Hannibal forcefully pulled his shoulder back and tugged the covers high over his shoulder. He didn't speak and he didn't turn toward his visibly upset wife. Instead, he rested quietly, waiting.

Clarice reached for him again, this time she would not chance rejection by grabbing him but instead began smoothing her hand up and down his back over his pajamas. They were very high quality silk, soft to the touch so she continued for several minutes to caress him in this way hoping to bring him some measure of comfort. Soon, her husband's breathing slowed and deepened signaling to her he was sleeping.

He went to sleep angry with me…he's never gone to sleep still angry with me…

Feeling quite dejected and actually a little ashamed of her actions Clarice rolled over and began to wrestle sleep.

She did not feel the bed shift, nor did she hear Hannibal moving quietly around the bed over to her side. She did not perceive the whisper of fabric as he slowly slipped the pajamas over his limbs, divesting himself of the clothing.

Now as naked as his wife, Hannibal moved very low across the floor. The moment he arrived beside her he reached for a throw pillow placed on the chair not far from the bed. He tossed the pillow back onto his side of the bed. Clarice turned to the movement to check on him hoping a change of heart brought him back around.

The moment her back was turned, he leapt from the floor onto the bed and clasped his hand over her mouth to prevent the inevitable yelp of surprise. He landed, straddling her legs, with his body very carefully positioned just below the baby.

Initially, she struggled unaware of whether she should be afraid or relieved. She looked to his eyes, glowing in the darkness, a shimmer of delight at his conquest. He held his hand in place, dove toward her neck and began to nibble and suck at her throat. Slowly, as he moved his hand, she giggled in delight as she struggled to toss him to one side or the other in vain.

She could see his amusement and realized that he had never been angry at all. As retribution for the position she put him in, he had been playing her all along.

"You son of a b-"

Hannibal interrupted her obscenity. "I have told you before, Clarice, not to refer to my mother as a female dog."

He dove toward her neck and body, covering her flesh with his mouth as he clamped down on the soft flesh beneath her chin.

"H!" she called out louder than she intended. "What are you doing?"

"Are you sorry, Clarice?" he asked against her neck as he fixed his mouth and sucked hard raising several small welts.

Clarice was laughing almost uncontrollably, "I said I was sorry, God…stop! I said I was sorry."

Hannibal continued to bite and tease at her neck, alternately sneaking in several kisses between loving bites.

Still laughing he ceased his tickling nibbles along her neck and throat and began to trail kisses down her body over her belly and below.

Twisting and giggling, she questioned, "What are you going to do?"

"I would think that would be obvious by now, my Love, " he answered in his best dungeon hiss, "I'm going to make you scream apologies!"

Until the next chapter my friends!

LH