AN: So this second chapter is obviously late, I think almost a six months ago that I uploaded the first chapter. The main reason for this late update is my study, I graduated and am now officially a nurse so there is now more time left for other things, among that this story. Thank you for the reviews. :)

As for the questions, Mischa is unaware of the fact that Hannibal is a killer/cannibal but deep inside her soul she 'knows', it'll be explained soon enough. Yes, I used his sisters name on purpose, also will be explained in the story. I wanted her to be fifteen/sixteen so she still can be molded, I haven't decided yet but obviously she just had her birthday since she is a Scorpio and this story begins a bit before Christmas.

AN: I don't own Hannibal Lecter, the wonderful Thomas Harris does, this universe of course belongs to Bryan Fuller.

''And what might seem to be a series of unfortunate events may, in fact, be the first steps of a journey.''

-Lemony Snicket

Mischa had nestled herself into the comfortable armchair that was placed in the corner of the large kitchen, her leather weekend bag neatly placed in front of her feet. La Habanera was almost coming to it's end as she sat the freshly brewed cup of coffee to her lips, the aftertaste of the caramel syrup that was mixed with it sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.

The young brunette her golden brown orbs fell on the bottle of liquor standing on the kitchen isle and she silently wished the caramel could be replaced with a bit of vodka, it would certainly calm down her nerves quite a bit. Hannibal his presence dominated the room, making it rather feel like a supply closet then the enormous kitchen it was, it was suffocating her.

''Have you already contacted your mother?''

Mischa looked up from the steaming mug, her father was standing in front of the metallic counter that was richly decorated with fresh vegetables, the stainless steel of the knife that was held by the tight grip of his hand glistered proudly, she could almost see her reflection in it as he cuts the onions effortlessly into small pieces.

''Not yet.'' The girl glanced at the weekend bag, her phone resting in the inside pocket of it. ''I'll sent her a text soon.''

Hannibal his gaze flickered to hers and their eyes met, the identical pairs of golden brown orbs observing the other. ''You know how she feels about long journeys by car.''

Yes, her mother was never enthusiastic about traveling, especially by car. The fear of the vehicles came from an almost fatal accident many years ago when her own mother had been still a young child, Mischa her mother had always tried to never pass the fear over to the girl but the young brunette couldn't help but feel uneasy on the highway.

''You should not let her wait any longer then necessary, Mischa.'' Hannibal his tone of voice indicated his disapproval, making the brunette subconsciously give a small nod in response.

At the thought of creating unneeded worry guilt washed over her and she held the mug of coffee in one hand as she unzipped the bag with the other, grabbing out her mobile phone. ''What are you cooking?'' Mischa asked as her fingers typed out the words on the touch screen, the steam of the coffee pleasantly warming her face.

The girl already knew the answer to the question but she wanted to start a conversation, the heavy silence that was settling over them made her shift uncomfortably in the chair and she wanted it gone.

''Spaghetti alla bolognese.'' As he spoke Hannibal his cheeks dimpled and the corners of his eyes wrinkled slightly, thin lips briefly forming a smile as he added the onions to the stir-fry pan. ''I think the Italians would disagree with the ingredients of your favorite meal.''

Mischa snorted and took another sip of her sweetened coffee, the rich aroma of spices started to fill the air as her father stirred the vegetables around.

''It's origins is Italian.'' The brunette said as she stood up from her place in the corner and made her way across the dark tiles towards the counter ''The Europeans just added ingredients and made it their own."

''That they did, but in theory your meal does not exist.'' Hannibal took a sip from the red wine that was placed on the side of the counter, the crystal bowl clear of fingerprints as he held it perfectly by the stem.

They both remained quiet for a moment, the only sound the boiling of water as Mischa her gaze fell on the stir-fry pan. Her fine brows furrowed, forming a delicate wrinkle between them as she saw the small amount of vegetables. ''You're not eating dinner with me?''

''Unfortunately I am needed elsewhere, I was contacted not long before your arrival.'' Hannibal carefully placed the thin pasta in the boiling water, sparing his daughter a glance. ''I hope you don't mind, we'll dine together tomorrow.''

It was an ordinary occurrence and the timing couldn't be more perfect, she didn't mind not even in the slightest.

''N-no, it's fine. I understand.'' Mischa at least had some decency left to feign disappointment.

''Why don't you take a shower?'' Hannibal suggested, the man shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he grabbed the wine glass once again, his other hand holding the wooden spatula. ''Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes.''

The brunette nodded at his words and set the now empty mug on the chrome counter, eager the leave her fathers domain.

Mischa expected her toes to flinch as they touched the ceramic floor but the tiles were surprisingly warm, the under-floor heating a lovely change to the usual cold bathroom floor in New York. She caught a glimpse of her hair in one of the walnut framed mirrors while dropping the weekend bag next to the laundry basket. The brunette walked leisurely towards the shower, her dark locks no longer fell perfectly over her shoulders, the wind had created tangles.

She turned it on, the warm droplets creating steam within seconds as Mischa stripped herself down to bare skin. With her foot she pushed the pile of clothes to the right side of the bathroom, making a mental note to clean them up after her shower. Carefully the brunette stepped in, testing it's temperature with her hand before letting the water pour down on her body.

The sensation of the warm water calms her, muscles relaxing as Mischa exhales loudly. The girl wished she could stay under the endless stream until the end of the week, hide until Joshua would arrive and take her back to New York.

''For mom.'' She says under her breath, repeating the sentence several times. ''For mom.''

Mischa stands still for several minutes enjoying the warmth before finding the courage to leave the stream, she couldn't stall any longer. The water dripped down her hair softly, creating little puddles on the ground as it made her way down her body. The brunette grabbed two fluffy towels that were neatly arranged on the wooden shelve and dried herself from head to toe.

Within minutes she was dressed once again, this time in much more comfortable clothing then her previous outfit. The red sweater hanged loose around her shoulders, the thick woolen legging much warmer then the dark jeans. With damp hair and her cheeks flushed of the warm water Mischa made her way downstairs, bare feet patting against the cold tiles.

The rich aroma of the Italian meal filled her nostrils as she walked through the hall, Mischa sucked it in hungrily, filling her lungs and letting it sit there as long as she could before exhaling. A smile briefly painted Mischa her face as the words of her mother ran through her mind, the woman her sweet laugh almost ringing in her ears as if she was standing right beside her.

The only thing that I will always miss about your father is his cooking.

They were both helpless in that section, Mischa couldn't make a proper meal even if her life depended on it, neither could her mother. The kitchen was Hannibal his kingdom, when she was younger she of course always 'helped' but unlike her father she missed the skill and the passion he possessed. It was fine, Mischa was perfectly content with not knowing how to cook, she could survive on take out until the day she died.

The dining room was a grand space to say the least, Mischa could immediately see it had been redecorated as she entered. The wallpaper of the room now the indigo of the night sky, the new mahogany table took up most of the dark romantic room giving it the warmth and the shelves that floated on the wall carried the containers with the various herbs that created a mixture of pleasant smells.

''I take the redecoration is to your liking.'' Hannibal his voice was low and soft but powerful enough to still send chills down Mischa her spine, his silent entrance startling her. She had forgotten how quietly he could move, like a lion slinking through the high grass towards it's prey.

In his hands he held a plate, her favorite meal presented just the way she remembered with cheese spread atop in copious amounts and a little basil leaf placed perfectly in the middle. The brunette would lie to herself if she said that she had not missed his meals.

''It is, I like the colors combined with the different woods.'' And it was true, she did. Mischa always did like classical order combined with strange beauty and the way her father had restyled the room it had earned it's place as her new favorite part of the house.

Hannibal eyed the dark landscape as he placed the meal at the head of the table between the polished silver cutlery, the tall crystal glass that stood next to it filled with iced water. ''The landscape is by Oscar Grosch, he was kind enough to give me permission to let it be reproduced as wallpaper.''

''It fits very well.'' Mischa nodded, admiring the backdrop once more as she sat down in front of the table. ''A living wall.''

''Exactly.'' Hannibal his answering smile was subdued, yet it still gave away the small pride he had that the girl had understood his vision.

The sudden shrill rings cut the moment between father and daughter short, the mobile device announcing a caller from the what seemed the kitchen. The young girl pushed herself against the back of the dining chair, peering at the entrance of her fathers domain as she spoke softly. ''You're needed.''

''So it seems.'' Hannibal answered, he wiped his hands clean on the pearly white apron that was tied around his waist, making the brunette cock her head in a confusing manner as she realized that she had never seen it dirty. ''Eat Mischa, before it gets cold.''

Mischa nodded and licked her lips as she grabbed the silver spoon and fork, Hannibal disappearing from her view, leaving the room as quietly as when he entered it. The young girl had been anxious about seeing her father for several days but now in front of the freshly cooked meal the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach was disappearing, hunger replacing it.

The pasta tasted just like she remembered and for a brief moment she felt nostalgic, longing for the past where everything had been much simpler and her fathers meals were a normality.

Mischa chewed slowly as she tried to look through the glass of the double doors that lead to the garden, the young girl could only make out the rain-drops that were falling on the window. Though the sky had been filled with grey clouds when she arrived, now it was completely dark outside, as if the house and it surroundings were covered under a thick black blanket, hiding them from the world outside.

The faint brush of fingers through her hair brought Mischa back to the present, for a second paralyzed by the sudden touch that invaded her personal space. The strange feeling returning to the pit of her stomach as she looked up into her fathers eyes. He had put on his dark blue coat, the car keys dangling in his other hand as their gazes met, he looked at her, eyebrows raised questionably and Mischa realized he had said something to her but she hadn't heard him.

''Sorry?'' Embarrassingly her voice was almost nothing more then a faint whisper and Mischa could feel her hands become clammy as Hannibal his eyes bore into her very soul.

''I said that I was leaving.'' Hannibal his expression softened, as if guilt had washed over him as he spoke the words, leaving his daughter alone on her first evening in Baltimore had not been something he wanted.

''Right.'' Mischa nodded and swallowed hard against the sudden dryness of her mouth, her hand tightly holding on to the cutlery in her hands, knuckles turning white as she silently wished that he would just leave.

''Do not wait for me, I'll be back late.'' Her father bend forward, placing an almost formal kiss on the top of her head, his fingers untangling themselves out of her dark locks as the keys in his hand collided against one another, the metallic ringing filling the room besides the rain-drops.

Mischa gave another quick nod and silently watched as her father left the room, the heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach disappearing once again as she listened attentively to his footsteps. After several seconds they began to fade and she held her breath until the closing of the wooden front door was heard, finally giving herself permission to exhale loudly while letting her back rest against the chair, her charade ending for the day.

AN: So this was the second chapter, nothing shocking yet it'll come though. Tell me what you think, I love to hear suggestions, questions, anything really.

D.