People Can Go From People You Know To People You Don't

34

Freya's P.O.V

An hour has passed, and I'm still shaking. I can't tell if it's from the coldness of Hannibal's basement, the horror of what I found there, or the shock of the news I delivered to save my own life. The one thing I know for sure is that this unexpected and unplanned child is currently saving me from what could've been my demise.

"Is the tea okay?" Hannibal asks, his expression a shifting mosaic of emotions, from shock to joy. He's not angry, that much I can discern.

"Yes..." My voice is barely a whisper, and I hold the teacup like a lifeline. I'm terrified of what might happen next, afraid to ask.

"Very well. I've been thinking; changes will be necessary from now on, Freya," he states, and I fear what he might be implying. "Do you trust the doctor you visited?"

"I do, as a matter of fact. She asked me to go back next week..." I admit, unable to lie.

"Then I shall go with you to each and every appointment. You will need prenatal vitamins, and I want to be aware of every step that is indicated. Also, I consider, given our reputations, we should wait for the right time to make the announcement. There is a detail we need to solve first, a not-so-minor one."

"Detail? What kind of detail?"

"Marriage, Freya. No child of mine will be born into an incomplete household."

I'm struck mute. Marriage? With him? I'm actually supposed to marry the Chesapeake Ripper? Nausea sweeps over me, and I rush to the kitchen sink. Whatever sips of tea I had are now gone. Hannibal holds my hair as I retch, and I flinch at his touch, but he doesn't let go, not even when I rinse my mouth and splash water on my face.

"It's okay now; the nausea and sickness should leave your body soon enough," he says, trying to soothe me.

"I... Hannibal, are we not going to talk about what happened in the basement?" I finally muster the courage to ask.

"There is nothing to talk about; I wanted to show you there are other ways to taste life. You found it out on your own," he replies, emotionless.

"You killed my godfather! And Aiden's father... Oh God... You murdered them!!" I snap.

"In my defense, I did not know Jacob was your godfather when it happened. As for Aiden's father, I believe your friend is much better now. Is he not?"

"Much better...? Are you even listening to yourself right now!? Why did you kill them? Why Jacob? And why on Earth do you...? Why would you eat that?"

"I had ulterior motives to take Jacob's life and teaching position, and I would not be so quick to judge the flavor of meat, Freya..." His unfinished sentence hits me like a wrecking ball.

"Did I...?" Once again, I throw up, mostly water this time.

"You have; and you did not complain. Not even once, dear. I am afraid you will dehydrate if you continue to vomit," he says, and I block his arm with mine when he tries to come any closer.

"So, what was I going to be? A fancy meal for your big parties?" I ask through clenched teeth.

"No, Freya. I would never hurt you; my rule is to eat the rude. Sometimes, I make exceptions depending on the circumstances. But, no. That is not why I want you."

"Then why!?" I'm getting violently close to a breakdown.

"I have been alone for far too long, Freya. It is extremely difficult to find a person who is able to understand how the human mind works, not to mention that ordinary people are hardly ever capable of owning their darkness or even their truth. I saw you and discovered each and every one of your layers; complex and beautiful. You are bright, cunning, determined; the perfect partner to mold, to allow into this small world of mine," he admits as some sort of loving confession.

"I'm only perfect when I'm at my worst; that's why you want me. That's why you've always wanted me. You don't like it when I'm happy or silly; you haven't given me the opportunity of being myself... You just wanted a puppet, and I fit the role perfectly, don't I?" I try not to snap at him, but I let out a question that has been haunting me for quite a while now. "Hannibal, this is connected to Misha. You once told me I reminded you of her; what happened to your sister?"

He looks at me, then his gaze gets lost somewhere in the vast kitchen.

"She was murdered; you know that," he reluctantly replies. I appeal to the only resort I can think of, hoping he'll come clean.

"It's not enough, Hannibal. If you want..." I hate myself for what I'm about to say. "If you really want this, us being a part of your life, then I need to know the whole truth."

I point to my stomach when I say the word "us," meaning the unborn child and myself.

"Mischa was killed and cannibalized by a group of looters who invaded our family's hunting lodge. By the time I found her, it was too late," he responds, and once again, I can see a rare expression in his eyes. He's holding back his tears; something unusual given he never cries.

I understand now: Hannibal's traumatic experience of witnessing his sister's death and the cannibalistic acts committed by the looters played a significant role in shaping his psychopathic and cannibalistic tendencies later in life, as well as the events that led him down a dark path.

"I'm sorry, Hannibal..." I say, and I'm honest. In no way am I justifying or making excuses for his horrible acts, but I am sorry that Mischa's death was so gruesome and had such a terrible impact on him.

He takes a step towards me, and I flinch again, holding onto the counter. I'm still scared, and he sees it; both of us are being quite honest. For the first time, we're not keeping any secrets.

"Freya, I will not harm you. I could never hurt you or my child," he explains, softly.

"It's OUR child, Hannibal! Not just yours; I'm holding this... baby," I find myself having trouble with the word, probably because I still can't fully accept that it's also his. "Had I not mentioned that I'm pregnant, you would've choked me down in that basement!"

"I would have not choked you; I would never harm you. I am well aware of when to release the pressure applied on somebody's throat; I would have released you."

"Really? And then what!? What would you have done, Hannibal!? Try to talk me into helping you with whatever the fuck it is that you do!?" I'm yelling.

"No. I would have given you the choice of staying or leaving, willingly."

"Willingly!? You and I both know that if I'm standing right here, right now it's because I'm terrified of what you might do to me and to the people I care about: Alana, Viola, Aiden. You threatened to use them in order to get my attention!"

"I do not want to be the cause of that fear, Freya. Not now and not ever."

"Then, for the love of what you hold most dear, don't hurt them... Don't make me fear you," I find myself pleading. Hannibal tries, once again, to come closer, and I don't make a move. I allow him to be just inches away from me; one of his hands, bigger than I remembered, caresses my belly as the other gently raises my chin.

"This is what I hold most dear: you and this child. I will not hurt anyone you care for; I give you my word but I need yours in exchange. Inform young Aiden about this; he deserves to have a life of his own as well as family."

Hannibal's words hurt me; it feels like a thousand cuts, but I find myself nodding. Aiden has been patient and kind; I can't let him risk his life or have his plans put on hold because of me. He would be waiting in vain. It's only now that reality sinks in and all the dreams I ever had have been replaced with a reality I will have to adjust to.

"Will you then, marry me, Freya?" Hannibal looks at me, and it's him who has tears in his eyes. I would've expected this moment to be completely different, but what choice do I have now? I fucked up, and this is the price I'll pay for it.

"Yes..." I whisper, and as he embraces me, I let go of any emotion I could have.