Chapter 1.

This fanfiction starts at the beginning of Episode 5(Sorbet): Season 1 of NBC's Hannibal.

It's mostly introductory and perhaps I will write more if people seem interested. Thank you kindly for reading!

Edited: to give the intro some more depth.

The Opera was to Hannibal one of the small things in life that brought him true peace. He was a suit in a sea of well-dressed men and women until the aria ended.

The singer that night had brought him to tears. Her voice was truly pure.

So when Franklin interrupted with his rude friend Hannibal found his temper fray ever so slightly. Of course, he hid it. He charmed his way with Franklin. He never once lost Mrs Komeda's adulation. She was a woman he found almost funny but she served a higher purpose. She kept him popular and important in her influential group of friends. She knew no one that wasn't either of note, highly educated, affluent, or beautiful. Hannibal noticed those characteristics usually overlapped as they did with himself. He was practically all of those things. Mrs Komeda smiled politely as Hannibal did his best not to humiliate Franklin. Good God Franklin didn't make that easy. Neither did his ridiculous standoffish friend.

"You must leave something for us to discuss next time-" Hannibal began but Mrs Komeda unwittingly interrupted.

"Charlotte darling come here!" she demanded loudly in her trademark tone that sounded somewhere between endearment and scolding.

The young woman turned around swiftly. Her gold dress swept around her and she smiled sweetly at Mrs Komeda. Mrs Komeda enveloped the young woman in her arms and air-kissed her with great exaggeration.

"You," Mrs Komeda began with a coy smile. "You. There's nothing more to say is there. What is more to say?"

"Nothing apparently," Hannibal said and the girl glanced up with a smile.

"Hannibal I want you to meet Charlotte Claude," Mrs Komeda said with a proud grasp of the girl's hand. "Charlotte meet Doctor Hannibal Lecter."

She dipped her head to Hannibal and smiled at him. He returned the gesture.

He had recognised her immediately. Feline beauty with that petite frame. The little Opera beauty he'd listened to less than half an hour earlier. Her singing voice had brought him to tears, but her speaking voice?

Boring.

He couldn't hear what was being spoken of but he could catch the tone. It was the tone of all young women. Soft pitched and innocent, overly agreeable. He listened to her chatter with Mrs Komeda and laugh gently at the woman's joke. Just another dull young thing with a beautiful voice. She wasn't special. She just had a rare ability and he supposed quietly to himself she was worth that at least.

Hannibal drank her in. Soft. Like swirling smoke. Her big brown eyes and soft curling dark brunette hair. He watched her blink softly along with what was being said to her by yet another one of people in Mrs Komeda's gorgeous social sphere. Her long lashes framed those dark eyes, her pink lips pulling back to reveal a straight and shining smile. He noted her high cheekbones, her petite frame. Yes brown eyes and brown hair, yet anything but plain. Natural beauty was a strong hand for her and he thought quietly if she was aware of that or not. She could move well in her own body. That was a rare feat for the young woman, usually, he saw them unsure how their arms and legs were to move at the same time. Tottering in heels and thick makeup. She was chic he would give her that.

He caught her scent and studied it lightly.

Gentle dabs of perfume. Tom ford; Velvet Orchid. Interesting enough. Very expensive. Probably a gift.

He would have picked something Italian for her but he supposed he couldn't be correct all the time.

The scent almost lost interest to him till suddenly he caught an undertone. It smelt like open fields, cosy fires, babbling brooks, and… what was it? His brow furrowed momentarily as she swished her hair to turn to someone called out to her. The wave of scent flowed over him and he took a fresh inhale.

Was it dog hair?

He unseeingly pressed his fingernails to his palm.

Will Graham.

Undeniable and indelible. The was a scent mingled into her expensive perfume of his favourite FBI special agent.

"Your singing tonight was just amazing," Franklin interrupted.

Hannibal glanced up as he was jolted from his flowing thoughts, theories, and curiosities. He stepped forward with Mrs Komeda, coming shoulder to shoulder to the woman as he reentered the conversational circle.

"Thank you," she said. A European accent licked her lilt and Hannibal's curiosity widened.

French. How would the Mall of America Will know somebody French?

"You're French?" Franklin asked brashly.

She gave an unsure smile. She nodded and Franklin beamed idiotically at her.

"Well bonjour! Welcome to America," he said and she blinked slightly.

"Um… Bonsoir… thank you that's very kind," she said with the same palpable discomfort that Franklin was incapable of reading.

Hannibal nodded and took the tone to excuse Franklin. He shook his hand and Tobias stalked away with Franklin.

"Who's hungry?" Hannibal asked.

Everyone laughed except Charlotte who merely smiled politely. Hannibal adored when people missed his subtle hints at his sins.

"Oh Charlotte Hannibal is just an incredible chef," Mrs Komeda informed and Charlotte nodded.

"Not to be unoriginal but you were truly transcendent in your performance," Hannibal said and the girl blushed pink.

"She's still so shy!" Mrs Komeda teased softly. "I found her in New York Hannibal and I said we have to have you. She is going to be the biggest star this opera state has ever had-"

"Please-" Charlotte began with a wave of her jewel-encrusted hand.

"No!" Mrs Komeda interrupted. "I know what you're going to say! 'Oh Jillian stop just stop you're too kind!'; well, my kindness is not so easily earned anybody here will tell you that. You're fantastic and you earned your praise. There's a reason you're my favourite."

Hannibal raised a brow and Mrs Komeda pouted at Hannibal with a narrow glare.

"If you had a dinner party you'd be favourite again but you've lost your spot to this beautiful young woman," Mrs Komeda said with mock scolding.

"Well," Hannibal said with usual soft charm. "I couldn't imagine a more deserving recipient of Jillian's favouritism Miss Claude."

The tinkering of the orchestra commenced and Mrs Komeda quickly clapped her hands in delight. Hannibal glanced behind him to see the rich and beautiful of Baltimore move towards the centre of the hardwood room. Each acted as though they were being forced, pushed to the centre, but he knew every footstep of every person was one that was full of gloating and pride, excited to make themselves just a little bit more special than every other person in the room.

"Oh, a dance!" She cried, grabbing the hand of Charlotte. "A dance, oh Doctor Lecter you might have found your match in this one-"

"Oh I couldn't," Charlotte begun, doing her best to pull back.

"Nonsense," Mrs Komeda chastised. "You know Hannibal we are doing our best to make Miss Claude a little bit more American. American's would never shy or god forbid, lie, about their talents, and Miss Claude here could dance for France! Haven't I said that before?"

The others in the circle nodded lightly, each grinning wildly that Mrs Komeda's wild attention wasn't placed on them.

"Well it's settled," Mrs Komeda said with glee as she pressed Charlotte's hand into Hannibal's, enjoying once again her social moulding and meddling as she pushed the two together.

Hannibal smiled reassuringly at the young woman and led her to the already forming circle of dancers. She held perfect posture the moment his hand hit her lower back, her hand easily coming to rest on his bicep and the other moulding to his palm as her feet easily squared to his.

It was a Vainness waltz and Hannibal internally smiled at the idea of her tripping and falling over her feet, her hands pressed to him for support.

She didn't. She twisted and turned with upmost ease and kept eye contact as firmly as possible, her chin ever so slightly raised, her body following his as easily as a shadow follows its creator in the afternoon sun.

"Mrs Komeda did not exaggerate your skills, not once have you looked at your feet," he commented. "Very good Miss Claude."

"My grandmother was Austrian," she murmured. "I have done this dance countless times… and she would rise from the dead to tell me off if I did."

He noted that it wasn't a boast, rather it was an explanation to deflect the praise he was attempting to hoist upon her. He watched her dance for a moment more and noted that her skill was not proud or boastful, she was purely performing an act of civilised skill.

"You are a European mix like me," Hannibal said, easily lifting her into a turn. She nodded once more, relaxing as they twirled the room.

"Have you known Mrs Komeda long?" He enquired. She nodded, allowing him to spin beneath her arm, a small smile catching her lips to see him have to stoop over due to her small stature.

"Years," she said. "She is a very generous woman. Yourself Doctor Lecter?"

"Years," he repeated. "I came to America as a very young man, 19 years old, but I would say I have known Jillian Komeda longer than your youth would consider possible."

She smiled at his joke, gliding easily across the floor with him, her feet mirroring his.

"Have you come to care for America?" He asked. "Despite Mrs Komeda's insistence that we are to make you more American?"

She smiled again, enjoying his chatter.

"Yes," she said easily. "I've come to build a life here."

"As have I," he agreed, giving her a fresh lift through the air. He was surprisingly strong, his wiry and lean frame hiding his strength.

Her feet easily touched the ground as he twirled her around. She enjoyed it, the chatter, the lack of exoticism she presented to him, the thrill of a dance partner that could keep up with her. The tune ended as he dipped her back deeply, stood her back on her feet and bowed deeply to her. She smiled, dropping to a deep curtsy in return.

"A rounded education I see Doctor," she said as she stood tall once more and followed him off the dance floor to the sound of thrilled claps of Mrs Komeda.

"Oh brilliant!" She called, her hands coming to press her hands to Charlotte's face and plant a large kiss to her forehead. "Didn't I tell you, Hannibal? Didn't I tell you? This is a woman who was born to know you! A counterpart, I swear, she is going to be a fixture at your dinner parties."

"I don't doubt it," Hannibal said with an easy smile and excused himself as a college caught his eye from across the room.

He'd watched her from a distance for the rest of the night. He watched her passed from person to person, each enraptured with her chic and her style. Each layering compliment after compliment about her voice, her hair, her manners, her taste, her dancing. And to each compliment she would nod with discomfort, blush, disagree and change the subject.

Hannibal didn't listen to any of his companions for the rest of the evening. He simply keenly watched Charlotte Claude till he gauged she was leaving and he excused himself.

He swiftly rushed from the room to the valet and waited for his car.

He heard her heels clip on the grand stone stairs behind him and smirked quietly to himself.

"No, I understand," her voice flowed softly. "No…. No… I know…."

Hannibal glanced back to see charlotte frowning as an anonymous voice apologised profusely down the phone to her. He couldn't help but hope that it was Will.

"Of course," she said with a long exhale as she paused on a step, her hand coming to scratch at a nearby pillar. "I know it's work. I'll catch a taxi to the apartment."

She began to walk down the stairs, nodding and sighing as she went.

"I love you too," she said tiredly. "I know. Goodnight mon chéri."

She hung up and sighed softly.

"Hello," Hannibal called. She startled softly and glanced down the staircase to him.

"Oh Doctor Lector," she said. "Good evening."

"Are you waiting for a lift Miss Claude?" He asked, casual in his approach, glancing back towards the valet as though bored.

"I was," she said, taking the last few steps in fluid stride till she stood in front of him. "I will call a taxi though, perhaps walk."

"Walk?" Hannibal asked with a surprised blink. "A young woman walking in the dark with a serial killer on the loose?"

She rolled her eyes playfully and smiled.

"You sound like my boyfriend," she laughed easily. She had loosened up from all the drinks she had been plied with throughout the night, her firm civility slipping as she smiled up tipsily. She strayed from obnoxious though, rather he could see was she was enjoying the way the champagne bubbles temporarily lifted her mood.

"Where do you live?" he asked.

"Cross Street, Baltimore," she said while stifling a small yawn. "Barely a few blocks, I'll be fine Doctor Lecter."

"I live on Robin Avenue," he said with a polite smile, praising fate for bringing a beneficent hand to him once more. "That's two streets from my home. Miss Claude would you like me to drive you?"

She blinked a few times before smiling softly. "I would be imposing…"

The roar of Bentley met her ears and she glanced up.

Her brows raised and she hesitated.

"It's a very nice car," she said quietly.

"I wouldn't offer to drive you if I weren't serious," Hannibal said. "Too turn down an offer of genuine concern, that would be rude Miss Claude."

She hesitated but followed him, slid into the passenger seat and stretched on the soft leather.

"This is a nice car," she murmured.

Hannibal smirked once more. She sighed softly and glanced out the window and the slowly shrinking gala

"Thank you Doctor Lecter," she said and he smiled at her.

"Pleasure Miss Claude. Any friend of Jillian's is a friend of mine."

The car rolled forward and she settled deeper into the seat.

"Is your boyfriend often worried about serial killers?" Hannibal asked in a leading manner and she glanced up with a small smile.

"He works in law enforcement," she murmured. "He gets his head filled with that kind of thing."

"What does he do?"

"He's a teacher," she said with a small proud smile. "But he is a special consultant for the FBI on occasion. He's very talented at this kind of thing."

Hannibal paused.

"I occasionally consult with the FBI," Hannibal said, taking a smooth gliding corner. She glanced up, her eyebrows furrowed for a moment. He couldn't directly ask her. He didn't want to spark suspicion or concern from her.

She glanced up and blinked. The realisation rushed her eyes and she pressed her hand to her chest.

"You're Doctor Hannibal Lecter," she said with a long sigh. "Oh how could I…. William's told me all about you!"

'Will Graham?' Hannibal asked, letting the mock surprise coat his obsessions name.

"Yes," she said with a small laugh. "Oh, what a small Town Doctor Lecter! William Graham, this is my boyfriend!"

"Baltimore is indeed small," Hannibal chuckled. "I doubt anything Will it's been particularly flattering."

"It's more than anything he's said about me to you," she said with a knowing jutted brow. Hannibal nodded and she smiled softly.

"He's a private person," Hannibal agreed. "How long have you been seeing one another?"

"Around a year and a half," she murmured. "We dated very soon after I arrived from New York. He's very complimentary about you. He says you're one of the psychiatrists he has ever met that doesn't have designs on him."

"Will's mental conditions hold no lustre to me," Hannibal agreed. A lie. He was fascinated. "He is simply a very engaging man."

"Thank you," she said, and Hannibal glanced at her.

"For what miss Claude?"

"For seeing him," she said. "As a person. I do think you could help him."

"Will is a very kind person," Hannibal agreed. "I assure you I am looking out for his best interests."

"Someone needs to," she said softly, scowling briefly. "Especially about Jack's… attitudes towards Will."

Hannibal nodded as they rolled down her street.

"It's this one on the left, number 11," she gestured at a turn of the century building. Pre-war. Beautiful.

"Fantastic taste," Hannibal commented, and she chuckled lightly.

"Hardly I am afraid this is further kindness of Mrs Komeda," Charlotte admitted. "It's her husband's property. I spend most my time in Wolf Trap."

"Maybe we can drive up together in future," Hannibal suggested. She smiled sweetly and nodded.

She continued to smile as he exited the car and opened the passenger door. She felt his hand hover over her back as he walked her to the doorway of her home.

"You're a perfect gentleman," she said a glitter crossing her gaze. That lovely accent caressing her words.

Hannibal smiled and dipped his head. "I'm just making sure you get home safe. Baltimore hasn't been the safest place of late."

"Chesapeake ripper," she hummed. "Jack and his white whale no?"

Hannibal smiled as she rolled her eyes playfully.

"Honestly Doctor Lecter you'd think the way he speaks of it that this ripper is made of smoke and devil's dust," she tutted, and Hannibal chuckled.

He reached into his pocket and removed a business card.

"If you need anything miss Claude," Hannibal said. "Don't hesitate to contact."

She took it and wrapped it tightly in her hand.

"Of course," she said softly. "Of course, doctor Lecter, I will, I promise."

Hannibal sat in his car and waited until the yellow light of her lights stream through her curtains.

He'd had just found Will's weakest point.

And luckily, she'd come in a pretty French package.