Chapter Text
Hannibal was looking for trouble.
He usually was.
But recently it seemed as he gave up all his person suits and simply gave in to his pinning.
Because despite all her deep and excessive knowledge in the psychiatry field, Bedelia couldn’t find a word more accurate to describe Hannibal’s behaviour and feelings over the last couple of months; than pining.
Unbelievable as it was. Still, Hannibal was pining.
Pining for his Will.
In a person like Hannibal—who wasn’t even human, at least not in the traditional sense of the word—it wasn’t easy to find even a streak faintly resembling genuine emotion.
But then, looking was half the fun, and also the reason that made Bedelia intrigued enough in her decision to accompany Hannibal to Italy.
But now, she saw the moment that iron control broke. It was like a dam bursting, immeasurable weight flooding past the barriers, unstoppable in its momentum, carrying everything on that first, immense wave, the moment... Hannibal bashed Anthony Dimmond's head.
The man who so much resembled Hannibal’s beloved adversary.
The one who got away before, and didn't end up on their dining table, simply because of that peculiar resemblance.
For the first time ever in their acquaintance, Hannibal’s hands trembled, his face craked, just for an instant, but still enough for Bedelia to see the sheer terror beneath that stoic face as Hannibal stood frozen in place, control clearly shredded by devastated anguish.
And through wide opened eyes and hammering heartbeats, she watched that emotionless, aristocratic face harden when temper and fury--unexpected, hot and ready--settled over Hannibal features like a second skin, stripping away every layer of the life long established civilized veneer.
And when Hannibal finally lifted his head and his dangerous, savage mood showed clearly in his bottomless, dark eyes and in the cold set of those sensuous mouth, that gave her so much exquisite pleasure before, Bedelia knew she’d just made a grievous mistake.
In that instant Hannibal was a beast, a feral monster- in his grief- revealed.
Bedelia's heart stopped.
And when Hannibal closed the distance between them in that graceful, soundless, predatory way of his, well, since she was actually already frozen, her breathing just stopped all together. For a long second, she just stood there and stared in bewilderment and horror at the not quite man, not quite monster’s face.
Every muscle of the beast's body was tensed for the kill. Craving flesh, craving blood. Even as he calmly asked.
‘’Observe or participate?"
‘’What?’’ Bedelia sucked in a deep, shuddering breath, as everything inside her rattled into pieces, squeezing the air out of her chest.
Folding his coat, Hannibal placed it on a chair, easy and steady. ‘’Are you in this very moment observing or participating?’’ He asked, with a touch of impatience and harsness now, to his always-always smooth, even tone.
‘’Observing.’’
‘’You say you're observing, but this... This is participation, Bedelia.’’ Hannibal declaired, stepping even closer. Slowly, gracefully, eyes cold and lethal, a predator stalking his quarry.
‘’Did you know what he would do?’’ He asked annoyingly calm while Bedelia’s nerves were jumping inside her veins like a scarred hummingbird, and her mind was shouting at her to run before the beast pounced. ‘’I would prefer you answer honestly.’’ Hannibal demanded, eyes holding hers, allowing no escape.
Gulping hard, ‘’I was curious.’’ Bedelia answered, knowing how maddeningly, inexplicably intelligent and preceptive Hannibal was, she didn’t have other choice but to tell the truth.
‘’You were curious what would happen.’’ Hannibal stated, unfortunately, correct, yet again. ‘’You were curious what Mr Dimmond would do. What I would do.’’
Expression faintly intrigued, the words: ‘what I’d do to the man who so much resembled the one I want,' not said, but hanging heavy in the air, in the miniscule, helpless tic in the monster’s lids over blank, freezing eyes. ‘’Did you anticipate our thoughts? Counter-thoughts? Rationalisations?’’
‘’Yes.’’ Bedelia muttered, her chest a tight, throbbing mess.
‘’Is this what you expected?’’ Hannibal asked with a dangerous flash in his dark, lethal eyes. Fierce enough to steal Bedelia's breath from her throat again and make her stomach muscles quiver.
Then self-preservation, frustration and pride kicked in enough to gave her a burst to answer.
Swallowing hard, ‘’Yes.’’ she replied.
In the next moment Hannibal stepped toward Antony and broke his neck with a loud, sickening, terrifying crack, making Bedelia gasp out loud from shock. Then stepping over the man’s still convulsing body, Hannibal walked toward her again nonchalantly, like he’s just made something as domestic as switching on the light in the room.
Stopping before her again within a reach of those strong, lethal arms. ‘’That's participation.’’ Hannibal declared matter of fact. And then, surprisingly, there was a ghost of a smile as the dark, murderous look slowly gave way to something lighter and, dare she say, almost affectionate. ‘’What have you gotten yourself into, Bedelia?’’ Hannibal asked soft, mouth indulgently quirking up before- ever the gentlemen- he inquired. ‘’Shall I hang up your coat?’’
But Bedelia was not fooled for even half a second.
She saw the sharp, deadly fangs hidden under that benelovent smile, the still present ferine hurt, rage and quiet threat burried under polite words.
And in that moment Bedelia realized that despite all her education, experiment, natural intelligence and extraordinary insight into the working of human’s mind—in order to survive—she’d need to gather all her cunning strategy and more, to prevent Hannibal’s union with Will Graham.