This is the final chapter of this fic, so if you enjoyed it, drop me a review and let me know! Thanks for coming along for the ride! LH

THE DEATH OF HANNIBAL LECTER

Hannibal relaxed his body and slowly allowed his head to drop back, mouth slightly open. Looking up toward the sky, the clear blue dotted with pillow-like clouds, he concentrated on the late afternoon sun warming his face. Knowing what was about to happen, and not knowing the outcome, trust- an exceptionally difficult concept for Hannibal, was his only option. Taking a deep, protracted breath and releasing it slowly, he opened his arms and extended them widely, clearly exposing his torso. Though it would seem to the other onlookers as no more than a remorseful cry of passion, Hannibal signaled his readiness to Logan by howling his torment with one anguished word.

"Claarrriicce!"

I hope you prepared well, Hannibal.

Logan drew in a long breath, eased it out and squeezed gently on the trigger sending a round directly to the center of his hero Hannibal Lecter's chest. Peering through his scope, Logan saw the blood explode from the impact of the round and gasped at the power of the contact. Normally, Logan had no emotional investment to his target. They were just that, targets. Not the same with Hannibal. Logan lowered his weapon knowing the wait would be long. He wouldn't know for hours whether or not the shot killed his friend.

Hannibal was thrown violently from his feet launching his body off the dock, sending him crashing, unprotected into the water.

"Jesus, did you see how he spread his arms out. It was like a goddamned self-crucifixion!" Pearsall was elated that he was able to clearly witness Hannibal's chest explode in a shower of blood from the impact of the sniper round. "That was fucking poetic…absolutely fucking poetic!"

Noonan shook his head in obvious disapproval.

"I know you think he screwed with your family, but let's be professional about this, Clint. Looks like he killed Clarice and he couldn't live with it so we'll call it suicide by sniper. Okay, get a chopper down here to help out. It can hover over the site and see if the body bobs up to the surface. No way he survived that shot so, so lets get a dive team in the water and try and get a quick hold on that body. We've got to secure it sometime today. I don't want a grey-faced Hannibal Lecter floating up along the coast washing up somewhere along the shoreline in a week or two. Last thing I want to see on the six o'clock news are a couple of morbid teenagers poking his bloated corpse with a stick."

Approximately fifteen minutes from the time Hannibal's body hit the water choppers were dispatched. There was no urgency to the directive as the focus was not an active search, but body recovery. Soon, they were hovering, searching the surface of the water hoping to guide the movement of the dive team. Pearsall stood, unmoving, scanning the surface of the water with binoculars the entire time.

Several minutes passed, still Hannibal Lecter's body did not surface. Pearsall was thrilled.

Hannibal Lecter was dead.

The struggle to remove almost eighty pounds of Kevlar with SAPI plate inserts and trauma shield all while remaining underwater would be a herculean effort even for the youngest most fit of men. Straining to grip the underpinnings of the dock, moving slowly not to draw attention of the FBI investigators just a few feet above.

I'm getting too old for this.

Hannibal anchored himself quickly to the pier beneath the surface with a polyethylene gear sling. The equipment he was removing he attached to his waist with a series of quick draws. All of the equipment would have to be removed without disturbing the surface of the water above and no evidence of his survival could be left behind. He would have scant minutes, as he pulled off the equipment careful not to let it drop, before divers would take to the water to search for his body. As such, he had to move cautiously but with all due haste taking all evidence of his survival with him.

Affixed just under the pier he reached for the tiny portable breathing apparatus placed earlier in the day put it to his mouth and secured his air supply. All gear stowed in a mesh bag, Hannibal released his attachment to the pier and began to move quickly under water. Puncturing a bag of his blood, allowing it to pour forth slowly, he waited for a moment to permit the serum to cloud the water above him. Swimming quickly beneath the surface within minutes Hannibal soon reached the predetermined exit. Hannibal had painstakingly surveyed the area, careful to find a point of egress along this industrial area where there were no surveillance cameras or security personnel. Hannibal was relieved as he cautiously broke the water's surface to see Barney, as planned, patiently waiting inside a van with the back door fully open, inviting.

Exhausted, dragging his own weight even as he lifted the sodden bag from the water, Hannibal climbed. His arms ached fully spent as he tugged the rope, unfurling the ladder and dragged his body up each rung of the rolled ladder he had so carefully placed three full hours before sunrise.

Running from the side of the pier, his exit point shielded by several large metal shipping containers, Hannibal climbed into the back of the van, unseen. Still breathless from the weight of the equipment and the exertion of the event, Hannibal dropped the bag on the floor of the van and panted, "Is…Clarice…safe?"

Starting the ignition and engaging the gearshift Barney spoke as he drove, not wasting any time exiting the area. He didn't want to chance being seen by a helicopter or caught up in an FBI checkpoint. Thankfully, checkpoints aren't set up for dead bodies so a full alert wasn't activated. All of the activity now centered two hundred yards down the pier as Pearsall waited voraciously for Hannibal's body to be recovered.

"Yes Sir. Her plane took off without incident. Your bags are just behind my seat, along with your identification. Do you have contact lenses with you? Your maroon irises are a dead giveaway."

"Yes, I packed them with my dry clothing."

Hannibal was stripping off the wet garments, toweling and quickly redressing. All of the clothing he removed, he placed within the mesh bag with the equipment. Barney had very detailed instructions on the proper disposal of the items. The clothing would be burned, the ashes scattered. The remaining equipment would be carefully wiped to remove any fingerprints, soaked in a bleach mixture to compromise any DNA, placed in a plastic barrel and filled with concrete. The barrel would be taken out on Barney's fishing boat, far into the Atlantic, and pushed overboard- never to be seen again. Barney didn't mind taking what he considered to be this small risk. Hannibal was loyal. Generous and loyal. Any deed done for him now, would be paid back ten-fold should Barney ever find himself in need of a man with Hannibal's unique skillset.

"Then we have everything you need. With luck, you will reach the airport in Chicago in plenty of time to meet Clarice for the connecting flight. How was the impact to your chest? I can run blood gases to sample for lung trauma, if you'd like."

Now dressed, Hannibal moved to the passenger seat of the van, climbing carefully over the luggage as he very gingerly took his place. In obvious pain, he rubbed his palm over his chest in wide circles, palpating the area to test the tenderness of the site. Seeing that it was indeed profoundly painful, the injury required a bit of compartmentalizing in order to overcome the discomfort.

"There is no need. Though the concussion was surprisingly powerful, the blow dealt knocked me immediately off my feet. As such, the impact was lessened immensely. I'm certain from the tenderness there will be extensive bruising, so the trauma shield was a prudent addition. Logan's information and participation proved invaluable."

Barney nodded, attending to the road as he constantly searched, ever aware.

"Yeah, well, you're not dead, so I guess that's true. Why did you chance taking a round to the chest? That level of impact could have stopped your heart. You could have used compressed gas cylinders to burst the blood packets and it would have appeared just as realistic. Blanks could've been used. Then you wouldn't have had to chance taking to the water with all of that heavy equipment. You must be one hell of a swimmer."

Preparing to travel to Clarice, Hannibal was busying himself placing his brown contact lenses, covering his distinctive irises. Blinking to assure correct placement, he responded casually, "If the shell casings were examined, which most assuredly they would be, blanks would not stand up to the forensics test. Additionally, inside information and Logan's participation aside, I couldn't assume there would be a single sniper. I might have taken that chance previous to my relationship, but no longer. Now that I have Clarice, I find my life is far more precious to me. Chancing a headshot from another shooter was all I was willing to risk."

Barney shifted his eyes from his driving duties, to Hannibal and back to the road. Something about the man was different, and yet, he was the same. There was still that simmering hint of danger, a serpent, coiled, ready to strike with an edginess that urged Barney watch his friend, if he could indeed be called that, in his periphery. It was disturbing how Hannibal spoke of the possibility of taking a bullet to the head flippantly, but disarming when he mentioned Clarice's name with a reverence in his voice Barney had never heard before. That was the difference. Hannibal Lecter was in love and the thought of it was both alarming and awe-inspiring.

"You really do love her, don't you?" Barney dared.

Without thought, hesitation, or hint of discomfiture he responded, "With every last fiber of my being."

Though he meant no disrespect Barney smiled and chuckled a bit, imagining tiny Clarice taming this mighty beast.

Hearing the quiet laughter and noticing Barney's bemused grin, Hannibal responded, the reverence replaced with an acerbic tone as he questioned, "I am curious? Does the thought of my loving a woman worry or amuse you? Perhaps you find it entertaining to think of the monster claiming a bride. That is what the late Doctor Chilton called me, is it not? His monster? His prize possession?"

Sorry that his pleasure for Hannibal was misconstrued, Barney explained penitently, "Don't take it that way, Doctor Lecter. I'm…" Barney paused to focus his thoughts, speaking only when he was certain his opinion on the matter was clear. "…I'm, pleased. I always enjoyed our time together. You treated me with more respect and dignity than Chilton, or anyone else ever had. When you escaped, I was glad and when, after so many years, you called me that night after the incident with your hand. Believe me, I was happy to help out because no matter what you did, they mistreated you, and I was sorry to have any part in your torment."

Hannibal stared off into space, his eyes focusing on nothing in particular, as he surveyed the door in his memory palace holding back the thoughts of his incarceration. Here, there was no clear, bulletproof glass, no air holes drilled to let human voices in, but nothing else of them. No, this door was massive in its construction with imposing locks and substantial iron welds holding it in place. It was not a welcoming place, as Hannibal had no want to visit. The memories he had of Clarice were the only pleasant thoughts of that period of time and as such they were not housed here. No, he guarded those in a separate, holy place.

Shifting his eyes quickly to Hannibal, Barney recognized that briefly, the good doctor was transported to that time. Barney thought it best to remain quiet, but Hannibal shifted his thoughts and quickly broke the silence.

"Though it is kind of you to say so, I never considered you complicit in those acts, Barney. I recognized your intervention on my behalf, to the best of your abilities, and was then, as I am now, appreciative. You helped to make that which was unbearable, bearable."

"Well, I thrilled that chapter in your life is over, and I'm even more thrilled now because I think Clarice is really special. She'd always been kind to me, thoughtful, and I think the two of you are really well suited for each other. I'm glad for you, Doctor. Really glad."

"Thank you, Barney. I assure, Clarice will be well cared for, happy. I will devote my life to fulfilling her every desire."

"I know you will."

Barney pulled into the airport using a side entrance designated for private flights. The helipad was located on the far end of the field away from not only the far busier runways but the prying eyes of excessive security. The pilot would have conducted the preliminaries as all of the medical paperwork had been previously submitted, therefore the assessment of Hannibal would be cursory.

Renting the helicopter for medical transport was Barney's idea. Hannibal was able to cover his face with a surgical mask without raising suspicion thanks to the false documentation making it appear he was a patient traveling from the United States after undergoing cancer surgery and chemotherapy. His immune system compromised, he carried all of the necessary paperwork presenting symptoms of neutropenia. Hannibal's face covered, his distinctive eyes shielded, the good doctor was now virtually unrecognizable.

Barney, in full medical scrubs, stethoscope tucked into his pocket, flew with Hannibal to his connecting flight. Clarice met Hannibal's helicopter and played the concerned wife quite well, he thought.

"I've been so worried, how was your flight? How do you feel? Can you walk or would you like me to get a wheelchair?"

Hannibal didn't require much acting. His body was sore, making movement a challenge as Barney helped him from the aircraft.

"No, the wheelchair isn't necessary. Though I'm a bit worse for the wear, I survived the experience, my Love."

Clarice rushed to Hannibal and without thought, reached for him instinctually, hugging him tightly. Seeing Clarice rushing toward Hannibal, Barney reached an arm to interrupt.

Understanding how frightened she must have been, not wanting to deny Clarice the comfort of touching him, Hannibal stepped in front of Barney and allowed the contact without complaint.

Throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him close, the moment their torsos collided Hannibal flinched for just a moment. He regrouped quickly, gathering the woman he loved in his arms, ignoring his pain.

The moment his body twitched, though it was brief, Clarice realized her error. Loosening her grip, though her hands still reached around his body, she smoothed them tenderly across his strained shoulders and over his knotted back, comforting. She kissed the side of his face, whispering her apology in his ear, "I'm so sorry, H. I'll never forget all you've risked to be with me, today, and so many months ago on the Chesapeake. I'll spend my life proving to you that it was worth it."

"Holding you is the only proof I will ever need, Clarice. I told you, I would risk all, to have all."

Hannibal turned to Barney and extended his hand.

"My thanks for escorting me safely into the arms of the woman I love, my friend. Have a safe return journey. We will see you soon."

"You have a great trip, the two of you. Be happy."

The moment Hannibal released his friend's hand Clarice hugged Barney, squeezing his shoulders tightly.

"How can I ever thank you for all the years you watched over him keeping him safe, then, and now? You've been a godsend, Barney."

"You can thank me by not missing your flight. Don't worry. I'll see you soon."

Clarice kissed the side of the larger man's cheek before turning from Barney to Hannibal, slipping her left arm around his waist, with her right, she removed Hannibal's mask, tucked it away and nuzzled her face alongside his neck.

Hannibal's eyes fluttered closed for a moment, he kissed the top of his lover's head.

Nodding a final acknowledgement to his former caretaker, Hannibal gathered Clarice in his arms and with her close, disappeared quickly within the crowd.

The security checkpoint at the airport was no trouble. Hannibal arranged for passports and documentation proving them to be Argentinian. Being that Italian is the second most spoken language in Argentina Hannibal was comfortable with the option. There was no question as to their citizenship as Hannibal had purchased three months prior, a soaring rustic villa at the foothills of the Andes Mountains in Patagonia.

They landed in Buenos Aires and took a short flight the 1600 kilometers to their new home in San Martin de los Andes, the lush fishing village bordered by hillsides and surrounded by a protected nature preserve. Their home was set on Lake Lacar and bordered by the Lanin National Park.

Clarice gasped as they approached the large security gate preparing to access their compound. "My God…it's breathtaking! How much land?"

"We own approximately 40 acres but we are surrounded by nature preserves so there is little in the way of distraction. We shall have all the privacy we desire though the town is just a short drive. It is a beautiful European-style community, known for its pastry, teahouses and handmade gourmet chocolate. It is a little slice of heaven, my Love…just for you."

The home was two stories, constructed post and beam style hewn from gorgeous indigenous conifers. The interior was styled much like an aristocratic European hunting lodge, with rich deeply carved antiques, leather and silver. The ceilings and windows soared, giving expansive views of the lake on one side and the national forest on the other.

Remote controlled privacy shades scrolled up and down the length of each window, preserving their privacy when desired. The main floor had an open floor plan and contained a large family room just off the fully appointed kitchen that was open on the opposite side to an elegant dining area, a living room and a massive room that served the dual purpose of music room and private study. The second floor consisted of three large private suites, laundry facilities and the master bedroom suite. Hannibal walked Clarice in and out of each room, enjoying her reaction to the house that was now their home.

Overwhelmed, she repeated, "It's perfect…just perfect."

"It is a wonderful place to raise a family, my Love."

"Family?"

"In time perhaps. For now, we will enjoy one another, yes?"

Clarice placed a gentle kiss on his lips, answering enthusiastically as they approached the door to the master suite, "Hell, yes!"

Though it was excruciating, Hannibal lifted Clarice in his arms and carried her over the threshold of their bedroom, carefully holding her very low on his body. He set her gently on the bed and took his place beside her. Clarice rested her hand on Hannibal's chest, barely a whisper of contact still he flinched and quickly snatched her wrist, lifting it gently from his body.

"Please, my Love. It's rather tender."

Clarice very carefully opened his shirt, wincing the moment she saw the deep, weeping, purple hematoma still spreading across his chest.

Her eyes welled as she worried, "That's absolutely horrific. It must be agonizing."

"It hasn't been a comforting experience for me…after all, my Love, I died today."

Hannibal Lecter traced along Clarice's hand with just the tips of his finger, clearly remembering the first time his body made contact with hers.

"It is as thrilling to me now as it was the first time we touched." Hannibal whispered in her ear. "Welcome home, Clarice."

"You are my Home, Hannibal...you always will be my Home."

"And you will always be my Love."

Dr. and Mrs. Marco Aurelio Dante were married in a small Catholic Church in San Martin de Los Andes eight weeks later. Their wedding was attended by all of the local townspeople and their three closest friends, Barney Matthews, Ardelia Mapp and of course, Logan Marley.

We leave them, for now, happy, together, in love, as of yet undiscovered, and content to be so. Their story, however, continues…

Until, No More a Savage Life: Chapter Two, my friends,

LH