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15 February 2014 @ 01:14 pm
Title: Dangerous
Author: Rebecka
Pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Bedelia du Maurier
Rating: R for violence and death
Warning: Character death
Inspired by: The season two promo with her backing away as he slowly walks up to her.


You are dangerous.


With slow and steady steps, he moved towards her. Watching her as she backed away, her steps shaky and her breath caught in her throat. There was a silence in the room that felt somewhat overwhelming and he wasn't used to the sort of unnerving feeling he experienced within him. It was unfamiliar. Usually he felt good about killing. Usually the slow and steady hunt to capture his victim felt exhilarating. But this time was different. It was almost as if he felt some sort of restraint inside himself as his steps got him closer and closer to his beautiful friend.

He watched as her eyes gazed around the room, around herself, maybe she was looking for something to defend herself with when he got too close. But he smiled, knowing this room better than anyone else, there was nothing she could reach that would harm him. "Hannibal," she said, her voice just as familiar as every time he'd ever spoken with her, "let's just talk about this." But there was nothing to talk about. He knew that. She knew that. But her eyes widened as the back of her legs suddenly pressed up against something and she realized that she couldn't back away from him any longer. And he got closer. With every slow and steady step, he got closer.

Until he was just inches away, and she rushed away with hurried steps. Stumbling towards the door, groaning as her knees gave in, her tight skirt not made for running from monsters. He reached and grabbed her long and silky blonde hair, pulling her up to her feet, pushing her away with a force. Her voice echoed when she hit the wall and he smiled as he heard the familiar sound of a bone cracking. He guessed a rib.

Her hair was already a mess of silky blonde, her skin paler than before. He kneeled in front of her. She was beautiful. Frowning as the feeling of restraint balled up inside him yet again, he reached to brush a lock of hair from her cheek, and she flinched. Tears falling from her eyes. The silence was creeping around them, and he brushed his thumb across her cheek before putting it to his lips. Tasting the salt in her tears, watching as her eyes filled up even more. "Please," she whispered.

The feeling he'd had before overwhelmed him and he had to look away from her. She whispered it again. Usually he liked how they pleaded and it always gave him power to continue, but this was different. He turned away from her. He needed a drink. Leaving her there in a mess of tears and whispers on the floor, he walked over to a bottle of wine they'd shared earlier. His glass was still half full. Her glass had a perfect outline of her bottom lip on the rim. He looked at it for a while. Drank his wine, and tried to focus on the kill.

Suddenly he heard the sound of a door opening, she was escaping, she was getting away. Reaching out to grab his letter opener, he rushed after her, rushed out through the door and into the small waiting area outside his office. She was trying to get the front door open but she was crying and he thought maybe her tears blurred her vision. Oh, those delicious tears. Rushing up to her, grabbing her by the shoulders, pushing her down on the floor, she pleaded and groaned and coughed, and he felt like killing her but he also felt like saving her, so he looked away and closed his eyes and stabbed the letter opener hard where he knew her heart was, knew even when his eyes were closed.

Her pleads stopped. Her body tensed. The familiar sound of a perfect kill excited him and he had to look at her. Her eyes were oceans of tears, her lips opened as if she wanted to speak but didn't know how to. She was so beautiful and she was his friend and his eyes filled with tears. Leaning down over her, he kissed her lips. Slowly, feeling her last few breaths linger inside his mouth before he exhaled them for her. His hands were stained with her blood and he wanted to devour every single inch of her, but looking at her lifeless body, he wondered if he could.

Getting up on suddenly shaky legs, he took a few breaths. He brushed a bloody hand through his hair. And he smiled to himself. Could he really devour her? Of course he could.