Bedelia De Beaufort

Bedelia du Maurier

Warning: angst ahead. Unfortunately, this was the only way I could make this work in character, I am sorry. (I really am, I don’t like angst.)

Nostalgia

The plan was devised before they reached Florence. Heralibi. Bedelia did not want to leave anything to chance. There was somethingreassuring in placing the small bag in the bathroom vent. Like a safety net shecould fell back on. She was planning to put the drugs to test; she needed toensure she would still be in control.Yet she kept postponing it, without reason, she convinced herself.

Just as the package she hid within the walls, there was athought hidden deep in her mind, hoping she won’t have to use it. She tried tobanish it, not letting herself succumb to the sentiment, any sentiment, but the only thing that was forgotten was the plan.

Until the day, she knew the end was inevitable.

“You’ve met Inspector Pazzi before.”

“In my youth.”

She made a last attempt to warn him, help him, somehow more heartfelt than before. Her heart suddenly grewheavy. It felt thick and strange, a foreign sensation she could not suppress.

Bedelia retrieved the bag from its hiding place. It felt likea relic from a different era and in a way, it was. Nothing more than perfectingher alibi, she continued to tell herself, as the needle pierced her skin. Butas the world in front her eyes turned to haze, the heaviness taking hold of herheart lifted and it was what she truly wanted. Her head felt back as shereclined in the chair.

All the colours around her were amplified, the lights meltedinto rays of gold, stretching along the walls. The lights became brighter andinstantly she was no longer in the apartment, but flowing across the dancefloor in Hannibal’s arms. The world around them nothing but a blur as he heldher tightly, smiling. She had never felt that way before, the exhilaration ofliving life at the edge, without a safety net. She felt invincible.

He called her name, but it seemed to be coming from afar.Bedelia blinked and the ballroom disappeared; she was back at the apartment andHannibal was standing in front of her.

“Bedelia, what have you done?” his voice sharp, but shehardly noticed.

“I am fine, Hannibal” her own voice muffled, as thoughbelonging to someone else.

He looked at the unmarked vials, before kneeling next toher. She felt his fingers examining her arm.

“What have you taken?”

“Does it matter?” resignation poured from her every word.

“Yes, of course it does. I care about you.”

Bedelia gazed at Hannibal, his face coming in and out offocus, yet his eyes remained a sharp focal point. Behind the anger in his eyes,she saw true affection. The heaviness returned, denser than before, spillingover her heart and rising to her throat, making speaking hard.

“Do you?” she pushed his arm away and stood up, legsunsteady, leaving the room before he saw the tears filling her eyes.

This was not part of her plan. It should not hurt.

Here’s the thing, Hannibal is not a nice person (to put it mildly!), but neither is Bedelia. She is as narcissistic as him and shares a similar, dubious sense of morality. But they are very good for/ with each other. They are possessive of each other, yes, but also really care about each other. She has a calming influence on him, he brings excitement into her life. They work really well as a couple!

Besides the equality that was already mentioned, there is one thing that Hannibal has for Bedelia and for only her: respect. She is the only person he has treated as, well… person.

Their relationship wasn’t unhealthy, but with the understanding that they are not normal people and should not be perceived through normal standards.