Title: Catnip for Serial Killers, Day 21 of 30 Days of Hannibloom
Fandom: Hannibal
Pairing: Hannibloom
Rating: r
WARNINGS: More graphic depictions of violence here, folks. Proceed with caution.
Catnip for serial killers. That's what Dr. Gideon had called her. What an apt descriptor.
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She followed Hannibal into the lab. Another day, another dead body. She surreptitiously took off her diamond and her wedding band and placed them in her jacket pocket as she approached the table.
She wasn't ready to share news of her marriage yet, especially not with Will Graham. She was happy, thrilled even, to be married to the man she loved. But explaining that to another man who loved her, who also thought her husband was a cannibalistic serial killer? She was not ready for that.
She didn't think to ask Hannibal to take off his band. She mentally kicked herself later, because she should have thought of it, knowing Will's keen eyes would pick up on the platinum gleam on Hannibal's ring finger.
But first-
The female body in front of them was contorted into a grotesque shape. Alana looked closer. No, not contorted. Broken apart, and sewn back together, like a Picasso, to look contorted. Like a circus act. Alana felt her stomach turn, as it always did when she was confronted by the most horrific of murders. She turned her face away from the body. She took a deep breath and pressed her tongue to the top of her mouth. This little ritual calmed her and she was able to look again. She saw a dark-haired woman in her mid-thirties. Her head was attached sans neck to her torso, with a leg sticking out of it. One arm protruded from each breast. Her hands were attached to the leg still in its right location. In the hands were a bouquet of white roses.
Alana glanced at Hannibal. He seemed unperturbed. Alana frowned; she wondered how Hannibal could look at something like this and not be bothered. She supposed it was his background as a surgeon. Meanwhile, there was a reason she chose psychiatry as her specialty after medical school.
Jack spoke. 'This is the third one this week. All found in the vicinity of Washington D.C., in Maryland, or Virginia, the suburbs mainly. The victims are all in the middle or late thirties, all female. They were professionals, an advertising executive, a journalist, and now, a C.E.O." He pointed to the victim. "This is a high profile case. The media is calling him the 'D.C. butcher.' Our killer is moving fast. He wants us to sit up and pay attention. And so we are."
"She was bled before being cut apart with a butcher's knife and re-made, just like the others," Zeller pronounced.
Hannibal pointed to the roses and started to speak. "White roses symbolize innocence, purity, as well as new beginnings. In contrast, they are also given in memory of-"
Will cut him off as he pointed to Hannibal's hand. "What is that?"
Hannibal finally looked perturbed, but at being interrupted. "It is a wedding ring."
Will's eyes narrowed. Hannibal glanced at Alana, who knew she looked like a deer caught in headlights, but she nodded at Hannibal to continue.
"Alana and I are married."
Alana closed her eyes tightly, waiting for the eruption. Instead, she heard a slam, and then Jack calling after Will. She opened her eyes. Will had slammed down the case file and stormed out of the lab. Jack followed him.
Price and Zeller exchanged puzzled glances, then looked at Hannibal and Alana. Both said, "Congratulations" at the same time. Price followed this with "Jinx, you owe me a drink." Alana smiled. They returned to discussing the fate of the poor woman in front of them. Alana thought of excusing herself to talk to Will, but knew that Will would not want to see her right now. To him, this must feel like the ultimate act of betrayal. She nodded at all the right moments when they discussed the case, but her head was with her estranged friend.
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That night, Alana cooked dinner for her and Hannibal. She and Hannibal hadn't quite figured out how to merge lives spent 40 miles away from each other. Hannibal was presently spending most nights at her house. This was a sacrifice he made for her, as she knew he greatly preferred his own house to hers. She was waiting for him to come from Baltimore. He should have finished with his last patient at exactly 5:50 pm. Thus, she knew he should be arriving soon. She opened her oven to check her balsamic roasted pork loin. It looked and smelled delicious, and Alana was proud of herself for the meal. Just then, she heard the doorbell ring.
She'd given Hannibal a key, yet he still insisted on ringing the bell. She'd tried to tell him that this was essentially his home now as well, but he considered it more polite to ring. She rolled her eyes and walked to the door, ready to throw her arms around her husband and kiss him. It had felt like a long day away from him, even though she'd seen him at the lab just that morning. Alana opened the door.
It wasn't Hannibal. She didn't even have time to ask, "Who are you?" before she was shoved forcefully backwards into her entryway, the door being kicked shut behind them.
The dark-haired young man spun her around as she stumbled, pinning her arms behind her. Before he spun her, she noticed the dark marks of fingers around his neck, and she felt a moment of sympathy for him. Then he pulled her arms back, and she felt them strain in their sockets. She screamed, more from the shock than pain. She struggled to get free, but he playfully whispered "Nah, nah, nah," as he held a butcher knife up to her neck. She settled, and he continued speaking in that whisper, as if he'd lost his voice. Judging from the marks on his neck, maybe he had.
Still holding her by the wrists with one hand, he lowered the knife and pointed with it. "Walk," he croaked. "Try anything funny and-" he mimed slitting her throat. She awkwardly shuffled forward as he followed behind with her wrists in his hand. He led her to the kitchen. She could smell her dinner starting to burn.
The man hissed at her. "Dr. Alana Renee Bloom, thirty-six. Graduated summa cum laude from Virginia Commonwealth University. Medical school at John Hopkins. A recently tenured professor at Georgetown University, and a guest lecturer and consultant to the FBI at Quantico. Those are some distinctions, Doctor." He ran the knife across her stomach, cutting into her dress, then up to her breasts. She could feel the cold metal on her breasts through the thin fabric of her wrap dress.
Alana didn't bother to ask what he wanted with her. She already knew. Instead she asked, "What do you have against successful women? Why us?"
He wheezed behind her as if she'd punched him. "Are you really in the position to be asking questions, Doctor?"
Just then, she heard the front door open. The killer backed up, pulling her with him with the knife pressed to her chest. She felt a tiny trickle of blood start to flow down her ribcage as the ultra sharp knife opened a thin slice at the top of one breast.
Hannibal's voice rang out, moving closer with each word, "My dear, you told me to utilize my key, so I…" He stopped when he saw Alana and the killer between her kitchen island and pantry. He took in the scene, his eyes darkening with rage with each passing moment.
"If you want her to live, I suggest you leave," the killer whispered.
The cannibalistic killer across from him scoffed. "You have no intention of letting her live. But if you have any desire to continue your own life, you'll unhand my wife."
The young man grabbed Alana around the waist, lunging towards Hannibal with his knife. Hannibal did not flinch, but did back up a few paces, out of the killer's immediate reach. While he moved, he asked, "Did your distinguished mother give you those bruises around the neck? She started when you were just a boy, didn't she? She was about my wife's age?"
The young killer stopped in his tracks in shock. This gave Hannibal the opportunity he needed. He too lunged forward, grabbing the young man's wrist. He twisted hard, until he heard a snap. The man howled, a strange sound from someone with bruised vocal cords, and dropped the knife, staggering back from Alana. Before the knife could clatter to the floor, Hannibal grabbed it out of thin air. He pushed Alana aside and stabbed the man in the gut. Alana looked on as he twisted the knife up and in, a look of undeniable pleasure on his face. Then he pulled the knife from the man's stomach and sliced across this throat in one brutally quick and forceful swipe. The now dead killer fell to the floor. Alana watched as blood spread across her wood floor. Her legs seemed to collapse out from under her, and her back slid down her kitchen island. She came to rest on the floor. When she looked up at Hannibal, her eyes wide with shock, she saw him do something terrifying.
His tongue darted out and he licked the killer's blood from the blade of the knife. His eyes were dark, so dark, his pupils tiny holes of never-ending blackness in his face.
When he saw Alana looking at him, he abruptly dropped the knife. Life returned to his face. He went to his knees before her, tentatively inching his way towards her. "Numylėtinė?" He reached out to touch her face.
She flinched away from him.
Whew, I got a bit carried away there! What do you think?