Author's Note: Well here it is! The new story. This one will definitely be more...erm...graphic? I know my last story was showing a sensitive/in love side of Hannibal. Here I'd like to show that a little, but try to stick more to the animalistic and perhaps a little sick and twisted Hannibal. I think this one is a good one and I hope you all agree!!!

Chapter One

The smell of eggs and bacon wafted through the quaint house on the corner at an early hour of six o'clock. The sizzle was a comforting sound to wake up to, and inspector Popil had grown accustomed to it. He thought himself lucky, if not a little spoiled, with his comfortable situation. He dressed slowly, taking meticulous steps to assure his appearance was perfect. He had never been a cocky man, but he took great pride in his job and therefore his appearance. He made his way down the old wooden steps, his neatly shined shoes clicking on the way down.

His smile was big as he peared into the kitchen to see his daughter, busily working on breakfast. She had grown in the past few years and every day she looked more and more like her mother. Her long, raven hair was perfectly straight and hung down to her waist. He couldn't help but think it was her own way of keeping her mother's memory alive. Her mother had kept her hair long, and ever since her untimely death five years ago, Morgan hadn't cut hers either. They each had their own way of keeping her mother alive. She, with her hair, and him with his new love interest.

He hated to admit that when he had first seen Lady Murasaki, the resembalance to his wife was uncanny. She, too, had been Japanese, but he could have sworn they could be sisters. After his first meeting, she consumed his thoughts and the guilt was heavy. He had asked blindly to his wife's spirit what to do, and no answer seemed to come. But after Hannibal had escaped the raging fire on the ship, the answer finally came when Lady Murasaki was nestled in his arms as he comforted her. The answer had been a gentle 'Yes'.

In the months that followed, the closeness of the two had been something Morgan had to get used to. He knew she was bitter, but she still showed her loving support to her father in any way possible. Although, she often left the house when Lady Murasaki came for a visit. He wasn't sure if it was because she did not care to be around her or because she felt the need to give them privacy.

"Good morning." Morgan chimed, turning to her father and shooting him a glimmering smile of perfectly white teeth. He smiled back and realized that he'd been standing in the doorframe for quite a while, with his thoughts elsewhere. She placed the food on a plate for him and set it on the table next to a cup of steaming coffee. He quickly took his seat and began eating. She joined him at the table and looked up at him.

Her eyes were definitely not her mother's. They were Pascal's. Despite the slight slant of her eyes showing her heritage, they were the same green as the inspector's. They created a shocking appearance to her dark hair and light skin. They were bright and dancing most of the time, but sometimes when she was angry, they turned a dark grey. She was a stormy personality, never knowing which way she could go. Either way she went, she did it with grace and a calm that only she and her mother could possess. Morgan never did have much of a temper until her mother's passing from cancer. Psychiatrist after psychiatrist had said to give her time, but it seemed time had been given and still she was an angry youth.

Pascal chalked it up to age, now. Sometimes eighteen year old girls were just like that, so he forgave her outbursts as he had forgiven her mother. Her tongue was sharp as a blade, and she did not hesitate to use it on anyone. She seemed to choose the right words to make someone cry, and yet she chose the right words to comfort the most battered heart.

"So, father, how has the investigation been going?" Morgan smiled as she took a large drink of milk.

Pascal glanced up from his half-eaten plate of food and shook his head.

"You know I don't agree with talking of investations with you, Morgan."

She frowned and went back to her food.

"I know, but sometimes the news stories just fascinate me. It seems to me, you speak with everyone about it except for me. You even speak with the Lady about it." She added, bitterly. Pascal rolled his eyes gently.

"It is not a subject I wish to taint your mind with. Besides, Hannibal Lecter has gotten away and is obviously not near any of us anymore. The investigation has become cold. We're working on something different now."

Morgan accepted this answer and took up the plates, placing them in the sink. She was fascinated with all the stories she had heart of the young doctor, and had found herself fascinated with every fact she could get. She did not like Lady Murasaki, but she listened to every word she would say about Hannibal. Morgan did not know what he looked like, but she always pictured him as a young, strapping lad. He was not much older than her, only by about a year or two. She found boys her age awkward, but she did not like to think of Hannibal as so. Although part of her was fearful of him, it was more so due to her status. She had been escorted for many months by two officers from her father's department. They had been fearful of a possible attack on her life for Hannibal to seek revenge on Inspector Popil.

After months of it not happening, they had given up and she was once again allowed her privacy wherever she went. Her trips to the park and to the local shopping centers had been very much tainted by the two young, slobbering officers they escorted her everywhere. They obviously had nothing better to do, as they seemed fascinated by everything she did. She took the time to polish up on her snide come backs, and found herself very well practiced by the time the dogs had been called off.

"Lady Murasaki is coming over tonight." Her father mentioned, rising from his seat and grabbing his coat and hat. Morgan's face turned sour, but she quickly covered it with a smile.

"I shall find something else to do, then. I'll probably go shopping. They're putting out the spring fashions now." She was a good actor when it came to covering her disgust or disagreement, but she knew her father saw through it all. Damn his training!

"That's fine." He kissed her cheek. "I'll be back at five." The door shut behind him, and she began her daily ritual of tidying the house. Then she went to her room and after brushing her hair, she changed into some clothes and began her trip to the market.