A/N : Welcome back dear readers! I have another story for you, though, this time a bit different. I wanted to share with you some of my favourite songs that I had the pleasure to sing alongside my choir in the recent years. So, little information about myself : I'm a choir singer for already 13 years now. I am a mezzo, so I sing mezzo sorprano and sometimes alto depending on the song.

I sang this song for the first time when I was fifteen and it has always stayed with me since. I recommend you listen to the following video to get the same experience I had. Song of Hope by Susanna Lindmark - Cor Infantil Amics de la Unió.

For the story, I have taken my own choir as inspiration. Enjoy!

It started two years ago. How exactly? Hannibal didn't know. It was just there one day and never left. Little by little, it grew. After every assignment, he felt it more and more. Still, he had chosen to ignore it. Because acknowledging that it was there meant finding a solution, and Hannibal knew that he didn't have one. However, now? It was too prominent to ignore. His team was getting fed up with their life on the run. Understandably so.

BA was the most expressive one, for that matter. Hannibal was surprised that BA had lasted this long without lashing out on him. Hannibal has noticed that BA tends to be more violent than necessary in the last couple of months. Face was more whinier than usual. And Hannibal had to admit that he felt quite the same. There was some sort of weariness in his bones that just didn't want to leave. No matter how much he sleeps, it doesn't go away.

This last assignment was the cherry on top. It has started quite harmlessly, like all their assignments do, until they aren't that harmless anymore. Murdock had gone undercover in an underground criminal ring to gather information. Being the only one on the team fluent in Spanish, the choice was obvious. Everything went smoothly at the beginning. Then, though, everything went to shit pretty fast. They had just received a distress call from Murdock when Decker marched in. There had been no way that they could have warned Murdock.

They had all realized their situation. Captured by Colonel Decker and Murdock alone, at the mercy of an angry mob of criminal gang people. Hannibal was confident that Murdock could very well take care of himself, but in this case, Hannibal knew that Murdock couldn't get himself out. BA had realized that too and reacted in, well, true BA fashion. Throwing fists. It had taken three MP's to restrain him, not before breaking several noses and ribs.

Hannibal had immediately taken action by coming up with an adequate plan. He didn't think that the ring would kill Murdock immediately, more like question him before, and he counted on the pilot's abilities to stall and entertain his captors as long as possible until the team could get to him.

It had taken Hannibal only half an hour to come up with a foolproof plan. He communicated his plan to his team, and they could go into action. It had taken them 35 minutes and 15 seconds to get back in town. Another half an hour to come up with a good plan to get the captain out.

They had come just in time. One of the goons had trained a gun on their pilot. For BA, it didn't matter if the shot was supposed to only injure or kill. He had thrown himself on that guy and beaten him senseless.

Murdock did look worse for wear—a black eye, a split lip, and deducing the way he held himself—either a cracked or broken rib or ribs. Still, the crazy man was grinning like he always did. As if the gun trained on him was only a joke.

BA, though, hadn't been too happy. He was pacing back and forth, cursing Decker, the ring, the military, and himself for not getting out fast enough. Truth be told, Hannibal felt quite the same. It was one thing when they were captured by Decker again and had Murdock to count on to get them out, and another being captured and knowing their teammate was in grave danger and not being able to help him.

That led Hannibal to his current situation. He was walking along the road in the town they were staying in. The ring had already been defeated only a day ago. BA got his revenge, and everything was supposed to be fine. Supposed to was the key word here.

Hannibal puffed out some smoke from his cigar. He knew that they needed some kind of solution. A solution he didn't have. He didn't have a plan. He had nothing. And that worried him.

His team trusted them to lead. But how could he lead when there was nowhere to lead to? He had no destination. There is nowhere to go. Everywhere they went, they were hunted; there was no safe place. Even if they decide to lay low and stop their soldiers-of-fortune act, they still have to change their base regularly. Concluding, they would still be on the run, and the problem wouldn't be solved. At least their lives wouldn't be in constant danger anymore, but that would only be a small blessing.

Hannibal was used to completing missions with very little information, and he always got the job done. Always. The only difference back then was that they had someone they could fall back on if things got slimy. They had backup. And now? They are hunted by the same government that has always been their safety net. Hannibal needed answers that no one could give him. He was on his own without intel, without backup, with no other options than run.

Hannibal found himself standing in front of the local church. He looked up, observing the bell towers. He was, by all means, no man of God. There was no reason for him. As a child, he always went to church with his grandparents, but he never enjoyed it. On the other hand, Hannibal always believed in luck, a similar concept to God. Besides, the church was often a last resort for many people. In these walls were many men, women, and children who searched for answers, just like Hannibal did, so he could very well give it a try.

As he entered, he was surprised to see a group of youngsters sitting on the steps leading to the altar. He counted around 32: 8 boys and 24 girls. Their ages ranged from around 14 to 20, Hannibal guessed. He briefly wondered what they were doing here, since Hannibal was pretty sure that the local church was not the perfect spot for youngsters to hang out. Of course, he wasn't a young man anymore and couldn't really be a judge of that.

His question was answered as he took note of the paper lying in their laps. This was a choir.

Hannibal stood in the shadow and just observed them. Maybe a little creepy, but he liked to know more about people he meets before he engages in something. Some were on their phones. A boy was showing something interesting to a group of other boys and girls, giggling. In the far corner, there was a group of girls humming a melody. The one in the middle is moving her finger up and down, indicating the fall and the raising of the voice. Others were humming along and nodding.

He watched as a woman entered his field of vision. She was a petite woman in heels to compensate for her height, Hannibal guessed. She was dressed rather elegantly. He could only see her back from where he stood at the back of the church.

The woman proceeded to hold up four fingers. "Position four," she ordered. The teenagers complied immediately. The phones were put away, and they all stood up, regrouping in their respective voices, Hannibal assumed.

Then they started singing.

With the sign given, the whole church was filled with their chorus.

In times of darkness, let there be light.

In times of blindness, let there be sight.

Where there is coldness, let there be warmth.

By choosing life

We all can glow.

Hannibal could clearly make out at least three different voices. One man and two women's voices. Though he thought that he could hear a fourth, he wasn't sure. What surprised him the most was that they sang without the pianist, who stood with the piano on the side, clearly enjoying the show. Hannibal was by all means no expert, but he knew that singing without any assistance was quite difficult. The singers had to "hear" in some way their own notes in their heads before singing. That took years of practice. But the choir did it without breaking a sweat.

In times of violence, let there be peace.

When we are frightened, let love succeed.

When we're together, we can be strong.

We give our hearts.

Sining our song

Their pronunciation was immense. He could understand every word perfectly. Probably the result of many hours of training.

We are all the same.

Children of the universe

With our song, we can reach your heart.

Make a change.

We are voices of light, singing our songs of love.

We are here to unite in this song of love.

If possible, their voices grew even stronger. Every single one of these young people sang with passion, love, and hope. It seemed as if they were trying to break out of the walls of the church and carry their message around the world, reaching every soul.

Their voices were as clear as glass. Their facial expressions were full of passion and happiness. Seeing this scene touched something inside of him that Hannibal hadn't felt in years. He noted with astoundment that he felt truly at peace. He truly enjoyed this moment. Somehow, he has forgotten the feel of this emotion. In war, there was not much time to truly feel at peace when all that surrounded you was war. To truly enjoy a moment was rare, too. He always needed to be ready to spring into action. Getting caught off guard could cost him his life or, worse, that of his team.

Hannibal stood there, purely content, listening to the youngsters singing their song.

Children of life

Singing songs of love

We will unite in this song of hope.

The song ended. All of the singers stood rooted on their spot, not moving a muscle, waiting for the conductor to release them. Hannibal noted the raised fist that probably meant to stop singing. As she lowered her arm, the choir visibly relaxed and began talking excitedly between themselves while also waiting for their conductor to comment on their performance.

The woman gave them a thumbs-up. All of the youngsters smiled—some fistbumped, others just grinned at each other. It was clear that these young people held much respect for their conductor if her opinion meant so much to them.

"That's it for today. Thank you for this very good repetition. Until next week," she called before turning to pack up her things.

All of the kids put their things quickly together, chattering excitedly with one another. Group by group, they left the church, passing Hannibal but not sparing him even a glance. He only watched them go by, smiles still evident on their faces. He had to admit that he was surprised at how good they were.

A group passed him, with a girl trailing slightly behind him. As she passed him, she gave a polite nod and a shy smile. Hannibal returned one of his own. Before he knew it, he called, "Excuse me, miss."

The said girl turned around to face him, looking expectantly at him. She had soft and warm brown eyes and auburn hair. Thick round glasses. An ever-present blush on her face.

"What is the name of this song?" he asked.

Immediately, her eyes lit up, and a big, excited smile broke out on her face. "Song of Hope by Susanna Lindmark. A beautiful song, isn't itt?" she added.

"Oh yes, especially sung by such beautiful voices," Hannibal answered truthfully.

"Thank you very much, sir. We are just -," the girl began when she was interrupted by her friends waiting at the door.

"C'mon, Anne, we don't have all day," they called impatiently.

A slight blush came over the girl's, Anne's, features.

"Sorry, sir. Have a nice day," she said, then turned around, heading for the door.

Hannibal stayed at his spot. The church was empty now. He swore he could still hear their voices echoing off the walls. It has been a truly beautiful performance.

He was delighted by the passion of this choir.

What delighted him the most was the look of innocence in the young girl's eyes—in the eyes of all these teenagers. They all still had that innocence in them.

With an air of surprise, Hannibal noticed that he felt a lot more upbeat and not as hopeless as before. He wondered if it was because of the song or? The image of the girl's brown eyes shot through his head. There had been such a fire burning in her eyes. Ready to take on the world and face it with raised weapons. A fire that has long since dimmed in his own and his team's eyes. Overall, in most of the people's eyes he has met so far. Dimmed by either guilt, fear, shame, anger, or disappointment.

All of them were still so naive and hadn't yet experienced the cruel world that was their society, corrupted by greed for power and money. It was refreshing to see this side for once.

Only after this brief encounter was Hannibal persuaded that Anne was a very kind human being. She didn't harbor any prejudice or mistrust. His question was fairly innocent, but Hannibal had learned early on to always analyze the other person's answer. The way they hold themselves, their facial expression, or where they are looking at. He must always stay one step ahead. She didn't have that.

Hannibal has seen the worst of what humankind is capable of. He has experienced it on his own body, still bore the scars. The cruelty of men. Surely, he isn't going to wash his hands in innocence. He has tortured men before, too. All for information. There is no place for humanity in war, only for violence and hate. That didn't change being on the run. They wouldn't have a job if humans were so nice. His team fights men, corrupted by money and power every day.

Seeing the hope, this fire, the passion, and the happiness in that young girl's eyes gives Hannibal hope that not everything is lost and that there is still humanity left in the human race. In the end, that had always been Hannibal's goal: to protect the future. Somehow, it made all the sacrifices and all the deaths worth it, knowing there was still good in the world.

A day later, they left town. They drove down the main street when he saw her again, for the last time in his life. She was walking beside a young man, either her boyfriend or brother. Hannibal guessed the latter. She was talking, waving her hands around excitedly, and grinning. It made Hannibal smile involuntarily.

With time, Hannibal has forgotten the sound of the voices of family and friends after not hearing them for years. The sound of the song, though, has always remained etched in his mind. He could still recall the sound as if he had heard it only yesterday. Their voices are still so clear and full of hope.

With time, the faces of family and friends, long since gone to the other side, blurred. The face of the young girl, though, stayed fresh in his mind. He could still see the excited twinkle in her eyes.

Somehow his subconscious has translated the girl's face into his image of humanity, kindness, and hope. He didn't have to search long to know why. It was very simple. She still had that fire in her eyes, the passion and all. She was still innocent.

During the days after their trial, he wondered if her hope still hadn't gone out. If she still holds the same fire in her eyes as before. He hopes so; he really does.

When he was blindfolded, he knew that another horror was about to begin. Once again, he didn't have a plan. He and his team were at the mercy of a complete stranger. That fact worried, no, scared him. He upheld his air of calm, but inside, a storm was brewing.

When the snipers loaded their guns, his mind searched desperately for something positive to hold onto. The only thing that came up was her face, her warm brown eyes, and her radiant smile. He held onto that image and wished himself back in that moment.

It was the last thing he saw when the bullet pierced his uniform, ripped into the bag of blood, and hit his sternum. It was the last thing he saw when everything went black.

A/N : First chapter completed. Thank you very much for reading! The 'position four' is, in my choir, the sign to stand up straight in a concert stance. In other words, brack straight, leaving some space between ribcage and arms, to have more room to breathe, I think. I wanted to do one song for each of the characters, so three more chapters to go. See you next time! Bye! ;)