Chapter Text
It was raining. No, correction, pouring. The streets were dark and cold as it was quickly approaching December. Cars flew by and it was about two in the morning when the accident happened. The woman in her own car had been a little distracted as she focused on just trying to make it home before sun rise. The roads were unforgiving and her eyes glancing side to side when suddenly a car hit her hard from behind. She yelped helplessly as her car spun out to the side, hitting a tree at almost full speed, coming to a sudden, wrenching stop. If it had not been for her seat belt and airbag, she may have not survived.
As it was, she pulled her head away from the airbag and felt blood trickling down her face as she gasped for air. She was unsure what to make of what had just happened. She tried to turn her head to see if the perpetrator too had lost all ability to move his car, but all she could see was rain and empty road. A hysterical sob emitted from her throat for a few moments as she realized that with how dark the night was no one would probably even notice her car so far off the road.
The seatbelt had a tight grip on her as she reached down and unclicked it, feeling where the bruise would be by tomorrow. Her heart pounded in her chest as she pushed herself to calm down. If she didn't call someone, there wouldn't exactly be anyone to help. A choked out sigh managed to push its way out of her chest as she felt an overall pain, but for the most part was surprised to find herself pretty intact with nothing feeling too broken. At least her hands had survived, if not a bit scraped up by the glass... Reaching over into what was once the passenger seat she slid her purse and a small briefcase from under the bent metal. Her eyes looked to her own door and she had a feeling she wouldn't be able to open it, either from the damage or just from the sheer pain in her arms. As the adrenaline seemed to not be pumping as fast she pulled out her phone and attempted to put down the window before turning her car off. The fair haired woman knew she needed to get out of the car and soon. Luckily nothing too important was in there besides her purse and personal documents. She put the items that she'd had in her hands on top of the vehicle and her phone into her coat pocket as she began to try and extract herself from the front, groaning in the process. Her legs having been borderline trapped under the steering helm hadn't made this process any easier.
As she was about halfway out the window a pair of lights stopped on her, making the woman freeze like a deer in headlights. Had the crazy asshole come back to finish the job? Maybe it was someone she'd pissed off. She raked her mind, unable to think of anyone when she heard the soft footsteps after the opening of the door. They sounded deliberate and gentle as if not wanting to spook her, like she was some sort of fragile animal. Although seeing a woman half out of her window in a crashed car that looked destroyed from the front and rear-ended from the back, maybe she was a little fragile at the moment.
“Do you need any help miss?” a low and distinct voice called, a lot closer than she'd anticipated making her jump a bit and twitch in pain as it had made her ankle hit the steering wheel.
She slowly turned to see an older man with fashion that could rival almost any of her friends. Wait, why was she focused on his clothes? She was trapped in her own car in the middle of the night and all she could seem to notice on him was his clothes...
“Uh... probably...” she croaked out, trying to wipe some of the blood off the lower half of her face in slight embarrassment.
The man came closer, seeming to examine the wreck closely before looking back up at her. It wasn't surprise, but it wasn't exactly sympathy either. Maybe an attempt at sympathy.
“How unfortunate. I almost didn't see you but your hair stuck out in the dark.” he commented, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a handkerchief, holding it out to her.
The woman tentatively reached for it, taking it from his hand slowly before he stopped her with a gentle grip on her fingers, his hand seeming to avoid the shards of glass still in her hands. His eyes looking at the hand he had and the one that was propped up on the top of her car for leverage.
“I'm sorry about that. I hadn't noticed your hands were also hurt.” he commented as she gave a small nod, slipping her hand from his to put the handkerchief to her face and try and wipe off the some of the blood that didn't seem to be stopping any time soon. “Do you remember your name?” he asked softly, pulling a phone from one of his own pockets.
A violent shade of red crossed her face, well, the parts not already with blood on it of course as she at first interpreted it wrong before realizing she had just been in a car accident... Had she blacked out? What time was it?
“It's... Meridith Flemming. But... everyone calls me Sloane...” she muttered out, looking a bit confused as he didn't seem to be dialing 911.
If she could make a face without it hurting, she probably would have looked at him as if he were the dumbest person she'd ever met. And what was with that accent? Sloane watched as he walked to the back of her car and crouched down, looking at her license plate, talking very fast to someone on the line. She could make out a few words about something not being someone's department and no need for an ambulance? Her stomach dropped as she tried to wiggle out of the car, something catching one of her feet. It was the stupid steering wheel... She groaned as she pulled, whimpering in the process as she felt something pulling that shouldn't have been pulling.
This fucker was going to kill her! What if he was in cahoots with the guy who'd hit her? It dawned on her as she slowly looked to him. She hadn't been paying much mind but had heard about some serial killer on the radio. Her body froze as he looked to her with something that almost looked like pity, almost. Tears streamed her cheeks as she thought that this was the end. She was dead, and there was no one here to save her. The man walked over, putting the phone away and seeing the tears on her face, looking a bit confused but she could tell he was chalking it up to shock. He gingerly took the handkerchief from her hand and dabbed at her eyes.
“I am sorry for not introducing myself before. You must be frightened. My name is Hannibal Lecter, but feel free to call me Hannibal if it makes you more comfortable. I'm a psychiatrist that assists with a forensic team. I'm going to have some of them come out and have a look at your car since we're not sure if the culprit has made away or is simply stopped somewhere. I used to be a doctor so don't worry too much about having to go to the emergency room. It doesn't look too serious but if something is indeed off I can get you to a doctor quickly. Did you seem to blackout? How much time has spanned since the incident?” he spoke in such a tone that she felt almost compelled to listen and not interrupt for fear of possibly angering this man.
His hands were gentle as they brushed the glass out of her own and he cleaned off most of the excess blood as it seemed the injuries in her nose were finally starting to clot. Her nose hurt, but it didn't feel broken. She felt the sting as the rain must've lightened up to a light spray sometime from when she'd been hit and when he'd found her. Maybe he was telling the truth, but he could also be lying to her. Jeffrey Dahmer had fooled many into believing he was a figure they could trust. And there was a serial killer out on the loose, so what made this guy so safe? But if he wanted to kill her, would he be taking care of her wounds and talking to her in a soothing voice? Sloane struggled between hope and realism as she just listened to him. Wait, he'd gone silent. What had he asked her? Something about blacking out and time...
“I'm not sure... my clock on my dash got destroyed by the tree and I haven't really looked at my phone since... ya know... Hitting a fucking tree.” she winced as she saw him look her in the eye when she had sworn in front of him, it felt almost as if it were some sort of sin. “Sorry, I have a bit of a colorful vocabulary... and this is my first wreck in ten years and I kinda wanted to avoid it after last time...” she muttered, looking at the sodden ground.
“It's nothing to apologize for. Car wrecks can be quite traumatic. I hate to press, but if you had to guess how much time has passed...” he said, still holding one of her hands.
Sloane felt as if her cheeks were on fire and she wasn't sure what from. The adrenaline, the attractive random guy who might or might not be a serial killer, or just from crying, it was a lot to take in at this time of the morning, or night. She couldn't decide.
“As much as I'd wish it were only a few moments, maybe an hour? The last look of the clock I got said about 1:54 AM, I think. Then that stupid fucking drunk came out of nowhere and hit me... Fuck... I was only supposed to be gone for a few days. I really don't want to go to a hospital. Please don't make me go. My psychiatrist drills me enough about my life choices, I don't need a doctor patronizi- I'm sorry... No offense.” she said, stopping in her tracks as she realized she was probably about to start insulting him to his face.
His expression seemed to change to one of slight bemusement at her halting and embarrassment. Sloane pulled her hands from his to push her hair out of her face and rake her fingers through her hair. It may have gotten blood in her hair but damn it, she was frustrated and doing that somehow seemed to help, if only a little bit. He'd mentioned only noticing her because of her hair... Ever since she was little it was almost like a pure white instead of normal blonde. And her body was practically covered in freckles... Kids used to say she was the ginger that ran out of ink halfway through printing. Ugh, high school was not the thing to think about, especially because it reminded her of her old accident. Sloane looked up to see him looking at her legs, a bit perplexed and then turning to her with that gentle expression again that made her feel like some sort of fragile and feral small animal. Probably a cat.
“I can get you out of the car, but I need you to trust me... you mentioned staying away from home for a few days... Do you have a suitcase of some sort?” he asked.
Hannibal may not have intended to, but Sloane felt more patronized than anything. She'd never been one for being treated like a wounded animal. At this point though she didn't think she could put up a fight since everything hurt.
“Yeah... in the trunk. Although I have no clue how in the fuck anyone can get to them... And, I guess. Good luck though, my foot is stuck somehow in the driving wheel. I think it's because the steering column got bent...” she muttered, rubbing her hands on her face, having given up on feeling pretty at this point.
Sloane was tired and sore and just wanted to be home with her dog and snuggled up in her warm expensive bed, like this hadn't happened to her. She glanced between her fingers to see him leaning in the car and working to lodge her foot out without injuring her anymore. She took that moment to look him over and couldn't help as her eyes took in every part of his figure. Her body suddenly felt hot and her mind started to darken before she realized where she was and that this guy still hadn't exactly earned her trust. He was some stranger who'd made a random call to supposed authorities who hadn't shown up yet. She watched as he achieved his goal and then slowly stood up, only to lean forward and slip his arms around her, one around her waist and the other around her legs in a firm grip, proceeding to pull her out of the hot mess that was once her beautiful Bedelia, the sleek black BMW M3 coupe that she'd bought with her first gallery show money. It had been her baby and some random asshole had destroyed it. Sloane sniffled and started crying all over again while also feeling her body want to react to the man that was carrying her up to his own vehicle. Her brain couldn't tell her body enough that this wasn't the time or place. She leaned into his shoulder and cried, finally giving into it to allow some sort of reprieve from all the pent up frustration.
“That asshole killed Bedelia. She was my baby. And now she's gone. She was so beautiful and fast. And I had so many beautiful features in her. God fucking damn it. Why can't I have nice things? And I'm so sorry for getting blood all over your hot ass three-piece suit that probably costs as much as my dog.” she sobbed, shaking and hating how tonight had gone.
Hannibal had to process at first that Bedelia was indeed the car, and a bit of a weird name for a car. And the fact that the sobbing woman in his arms had named her car in the first place. He had to give a small laugh as she apologized about his suit and complimented it at the same time. As he sat her in the driver's side a police car and two other vehicles pulled up close from behind. The first out to him and the weeping Sloane was a curly brown haired man with eyes to match hidden behind glass that didn't match much of anything. He had a blanket in hand and held it out to Hannibal who wrapped it around the fair haired woman, leaning down to speak to her, taking her chin gently.
“Miss Sloane, this is Agent Graham, he's here to talk to you about what happened and will help you get through the police report. I'm going to go help my friends look at your car.” he said, using the tone that she secretly hated and kind of liked at the same time. She gave a small nod, wiping at her face to get some of the blood off.
Sloane and Will watched as Hannibal walked off with a group of three people down to her car with a police officer quickly following after them, grumbling something under his breath. Sloane finally tore her eyes away from the man and looked to the bespectacled fellow in front of her. Will crouched down to be at eye level.
“You can just call me Will. It's a good thing Hannibal found you when he did. You might've been in a lot worse condition. Oh, you're shaking.” he seemed to say, almost to himself and reaching forward to wrap the blanket tighter around Sloane as she hadn't even noticed she was shivering and shaking, which she could apparently do at the same time. “Alright, do you want to give me a rundown of the events?” he asked in a calm voice. He didn't sound patronizing as much as he just sounded like he understood somehow. The woman gulped and gave a small nod.
“Er, yeah. I was driving home from another gallery opening with my work in it a good few hours south of Baltimore and I guess the gallery went over time, which isn't a problem but- sorry, I'll get back on the subject. I was just driving and making sure the roads in front of me were clear, cause puddles mean hydroplaning and that's just a barrel of monkeys on its own. Some person, I didn't see exactly, well, much of anything. I just saw lights out of nowhere and then they hit me without even a hint of brake. I went and spun out into a tree and they continued driving...” she finished, realizing how unhelpful her description was.
This caused a painful groan to make its way from inside of her throat as her head drooped down. “I'm sorry, all I know is, is that I'm pretty sure he was drunk. Or this week's Jeffrey Dahmer.” she noticed him wince out of the corner of her eye and clenched her teeth, feeling a bit bad for what she'd said. He must've been one of the people who worked on all those crazy cases. “Sorry, that was super uncouth of me to say... I'm just really pissed off and messed up right now. I honestly wasn't sure about Dr. Lecter being honest until all of you showed up.” she muttered, hoping that it actually amounted to a decent apology, although using the word uncouth might've sounded insincere to almost anyone who didn't use the word.
Will stroked her hair out of instinct, wanting to comfort the slightly hysteric woman in some way as she dabbed at the tears on her face. The police officer made his way towards the two, catching their attention as he gave an affirmative to someone on the other side of his radio. His whole body seemed to droop as if to say, I don't get paid enough for this shit.
“A few miles down the guy who hit ya pulled off into a gas station. His papers, along with himself, are gone, I’m afraid. We’ll catch him though. The paint on his bumper matches your car... Jesus, are you sure you don't need an ambulance?” He suddenly asked, seeing all the blood on her hands and face, taking a small step back, professionalism disappearing for a moment. Great, more to worry about.
Hannibal appeared by his side and clasped a hand onto the officer's shoulder.
“It's mostly surface wounds so she will be fine. A bit of bruising, but that's about it. The car though, I am sorry Miss Sloane.” his words caused the woman to start crying loudly again, making the police officer a bit uncomfortable.
The officer looked to Will, not really wanting to fill out the report next to a woman covered in her own blood and who didn't seem to be able to stop crying for five minutes. The dark haired male bent down in front of her sighed and offered a hand to take the report and fill it out for him, the officer gladly handing him the clip board and walking back to his patrol car to radio in about the victim of the accident. The older gentleman gave a small cough and held out a small envelope, his other hand clutching a red suit case.
“I was able to get your insurance papers and your suitcase. With how late it is... I can offer a spare bedroom to you and a hot shower.” he said, using the soft tone that was beginning to get to Sloane.
She looked up at him with mascara and blood mixed under her eyes in a way that made her look like she'd walked out of a horror movie. She watched Will take the envelope from her to fill out the police report. Sloane wanted to tell him to just speak to her in a normal tone but at the same time she wasn't sure if he was capable. Now she just felt a bit rude.
“I would hate to burden you anymore than I have-”
“It's perfectly fine Meredith.” he said, trying to be nice, not realizing what he'd just done.
Sloane turned to stone as she looked to the older gentleman with dark eyes, her skin prickling. “No offense Mr. Lecter, but your gentle tone is a bit patronizing and the next time you say the name Meredith in my presence, don't expect to still have a trace of a tongue in your skull.” her tone dripped with malice as if a switch had been flipped inside.
Both men had a look of pure unadulterated shock on their face as the trio who'd been looking at her car came up to join the party, hearing the last bit and looking to Hannibal as if he'd committed some form of treason against the young woman. Hannibal quickly amended his expression and nodded his head in understanding.
“I apologize Miss Sloane., it won't happen again” he said in a tone to everyone else that sounded apologetic but to Sloane sounded more like some sort of challenge.
Her mother's voice poked in her head, telling her to pick her battles. She eased herself down and looked to the ground.
“I apologize, that was rude of me. You didn't know any better, and you've been nothing but helpful. If it weren't for you I might have been in a worse state than I am now. Thank you Dr. Lecter, but you really don't have to house me.” she said in a much softer tone from before, causing everyone to calm down,
Will looked at her as if she were some kind of anomaly instead, but quickly shielding that expression before anyone else could see it. He put a hand on her shoulder and tried to give her an encouraging look.
“No need to worry about imposing. It is the least I can do in this situation when one needs help. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, as the old saying goes.” Lecter said, giving her a third and final offer.
Sloane felt her shoulders stiffen as she realized the situation she was in. To refuse once or twice was polite and simply customary, but to refuse a third time was rude. She was sitting around a circle of strangers who knew nothing about her, and a part of her wanted to keep it like that. Especially the psychiatrist... Her shoulders slinked down as she pushed her hand through her hair again and her grey eyes went to meet his.
“You've worn me down.” she said in resolve, the tension in the air dissolving as she did.