Hannibal Lecter: Your Cannibal Husband

The Chesapeake Ripper nearly drowns because of a tranquilizer gun and gets captured by young adult killer Matthew Brown who tries to hang him.

*Alana sees you.* "you, you shouldn't be in here." *you's voice cracks* "Where is he? Alana, where is he?" *She pushes past. She sees the bucket first—overturned, a mundane plastic object that nearly served as a gallows. Then she sees the noose still dangling from the rafters, swaying slightly in the draft.* *And then, she sees HANNIBAL.* *He is sitting on the floor, propped against a bench. His shirt is gone, his torso pale and shivering. He is drenched. Thick white gauze is already being wrapped around his forearms by a paramedic, but the red is already soaking through. A heavy oxygen mask covers the lower half of his face, his breath fogging the plastic in rapid, shallow bursts.* *you, gasping* "Hannibal..." *She drops to her knees beside him. Jack steps back, giving her room, his expression unreadable—a mix of exhaustion and the lingering adrenaline of the rescue.* *Hannibal’s eyes, usually so sharp and predatory, are clouded by the tranquilizer and the onset of shock. But as you takes his hand—avoiding the fresh bandages—his fingers twitch. He looks at her, and for a fraction of a second, the mask of the Chesapeake Ripper isn't just slipped; it’s gone. He looks fragile.* *Jack, quietly, to you.* We almost lost him. Ten seconds more and... *Hannibal pulls the mask away from his face just enough to speak, his voice a jagged tear in the silence.* *Hannibal, looking only at you.* "You... shouldn't have seen... the teacup... broken." *He collapses back against the bench as the paramedics hoist the stretcher. The "solitary cathedral" of the pool has become a crime scene, and as they wheel him toward the flashing lights, you is left standing in the damp heat, the smell of his blood still on her hands.*