| The very end of
their relationship had come after a call from
Crawford. He wanted help with catching a psychopath
who'd already killed five men, having them ritually,
brutally deposited in pieces to FBI field offices around
the country. Crawford had wanted Graham's
help. And the help of
one other. For Molly it had been the last straw, and she'd started the conversation that had led straight to their divorce. "Why you, Will?" "Crawford's in a mess with this one, you know he..." "Not Crawford. Lecter. Why you? Why does Crawford always send you?" "Because I'm the only one he'll talk to." "But why?! After everything you've been through!" "Molly�. Hannibal and I... we were lovers." * * * 'My Dearest Will, I hope you're well and enjoying life. You're a difficult one to track down, almost as difficult as I am, no doubt. You would love this place. The culture, the opera, the food.... How I wish I could share a little of it all with you. I hope you're not lonely. You�re in my thoughts often and it hurts me to think you're alone in this frightening world. But I'm not writing to you just to get sentimental. I have to come out of retirement, Will, and return to public life for a time. I'm asking you not to let Crawford get you involved. He has other puppets. Allow them to hunt me this time, I beg you. Do you dream much, Will? I do. Of you and I in this place. Its beauty pales in comparison to you but then, everything always has. I don't want to hurt you again. I love you, Will. Always yours, Hannibal' * Jack Crawford watched Clarice Starling's expression turn from triumph, at realising who the letter was from, to confusion at realising what it was saying. "Who's 'Will'?" Her tone was cold, hard, and Jack recognised it immediately. "Will Graham." Recognition dawned over her wide-eyed expression. "The man who caught Lecter?" "Yes. He was our best profiler. He could... get into the minds of people like Lecter. He could see things from a killer's point of view, feel the emotions that drove them. But he has no defences against it and eventually, it drove him to the brink of insanity." Clarice skim-read the letter a second time. "Unless I'm reading this letter wrong, it suggests that Lecter has... feelings for him." Glancing up, she saw Crawford's nod. "Back when Will caught him, they were close." "Close?" "Very close." She tried to wrap her mind around what he was saying. What was happening. "Did Graham send you this?" "No. We have him listed under a false address. We forward on any mail to his home in Vancouver." "But not this?" "No." When nothing else was forthcoming, she read the letter for a third time. "It's important that he reads this." Crawford let the ghost of a humourless smile touch his lips. "We're booked on the 10.14 flight out. Can you be ready?" * Whatever Clarice had expected of the man who'd unmasked Lecter for the monster that he was, Will Graham wasn't it. Tall, slim bordering on skinny, tanned with sun-kissed blond hair. He wore blue jeans and a thick, grey wool sweater that set off blue eyes shining bright with the pain and terror of his past. He looked like a man that didn't sleep well at night but preferred to rest during the day. He appeared vulnerable, utterly out of reach of anything that may have once been able to provide him some comfort. When he opened the door of his North Vancouver home and laid eyes on Jack Crawford, he turned away with a gentle groan. They followed him inside. "Jack...." It was a reprimanding tone. "Which part of 'I never want to see you again' isn't clear?" Crawford ignored his whining and dropped a hand to his shoulder, stopping him a couple of feet inside the living room. "Will." That was when he turned, and Jack pulled him into a hug. Clarice watched, amazed. To her, Will was so far from being Lecter's type she almost thought they had read the letter all wrong. She'd imagined someone as sure of himself as Lecter was, as openly friendly but at the same time giving nothing away. Then again, what did she know? She'd read about all Lecter�s victims. She�d seen photos of Mason Verger and the horrific injuries his 'love' for Lecter had allowed him to inflict. She wondered if Will's wounds were deeper, even more ugly. When the two men parted, Crawford introduced Starling and she leaned forward to shake Graham's hand. He didn't offer them drinks, simply indicated that they should take a seat somewhere. The sofa and armchairs were well-worn but comfortable. Will dropped into an over-sized armchair and pulled his legs up into the seat, one knee bent under his chin, the other out to one side. "What do you want, Jack?" There was only slightly less hostility in his tone than there had been when he'd found them on his doorstep. Jack reached into his pocket and took out the letter from Lecter. It was unfolded and sealed in a large plastic bag. He handed it to Will, reaching across from sofa to chair. "This arrived at the bureau yesterday, sent to your listed address." Will stared at it for a moment before breaking the seal on the bag and removing the letter from its hermetic containment. Clarice sat up suddenly, hand out. "Don't...!" But it was too late. Will looked at her with something just short of complete contempt. Crawford just moved his head, side to side. But not at Will, at her. "That was evidence!" she told them both, a little childishly, sitting back on the sofa. "I'm sure Jack's already lifted prints, fibres, even the smell of it, haven't you Jack?" Crawford smiled knowingly and nodded. "Do you open all my mail before you send it on?" "Not all. Just the ones from madmen and serial killers." Will's turn to smile, before he settled back into the chair and read Hannibal's words to him. Clarice watched him intently. She could see clearly when his expression became a well-worn mask. But she couldn't see under it and that bothered her slightly. After a minute or so, Will spoke without taking his eyes from the paper. "What do you want from me?" The question was directed at Crawford, of that Clarice had no doubts. She might as well not have been in the room. Jack's gaze locked on to Graham's head, as if willing him to look up. "Do you think he'd harm you, given the chance?" Will folded the letter carefully but didn't hand it back. "I'm not going to give him the chance, so it's not important." Crawford sat forward, elbows rested on his knees. "Okay. I'll cut to the chase. He doesn't want you in the way. Whatever he's up to, he's concerned I'll drag you into it and place you directly in the line of fire." Will's head rose slowly, ice-blue eyes catching Jack's, locking with them. "And that's exactly what you want to do." �You know I don�t want to put you through any more than you�ve already been through.� Snorting, Will dropped his head against the chair�s back. �That�s bullshit, Jack. If you meant that, you wouldn�t be here.� Clarice shifted on the sofa. �We have a chance to catch Lecter here. I know what happened last time, but�.� �No, you don�t.� Will�s steady tone was somehow reminiscent of Clarice�s memories of Hannibal. �You have no idea.� Turning to Crawford, he lightened his voice slightly. �I won�t act as bait for you. I caught him once, you let him escape.� Clarice caught the glance in her direction and bristled. �Now hang on�.� Will shook his head once. �Truth is, I�m glad he got away from that arsehole, Chilton.� Crawford rubbed his eyes with his fingers, not wanting this conversation to go any further, hoping Starling would drop it. She didn�t. �You can�t possibly believe that him being free is a good thing! He almost killed you.� �He did kill me. He sliced through my intestines and was about to cut out my heart when I stabbed him with a couple of arrows.� �And still, you won�t help us put him back behind bars.� �Glass,� Will corrected. �No, I won�t. I won�t betray his trust in me again.� Crawford got to his feet, following Starling up and reaching to grab her arm. �I�m sorry we came here, Will. We�ll go.� Furious, Clarice put out her hand and when Will didn�t react, she instructed, �I�ll take the letter.� �No you won�t.� To Jack, he said, �I�d appreciate my mail coming straight to me in future. You need a court order to open it.� Crawford simply nodded, directing Starling out of the house. Hearing the door close, Will unfolded the letter and read it again, lingering over the penultimate line. There was so much between them, so much pain and betrayal. He wouldn�t add to that. If he was being honest with himself, he liked the idea of Lecter being free. It took some of the guilt off his own shoulders. Not that he�d ever admit that to anyone else. Not even to Crawford. Outside, Clarice dropped into the rental car and stared at her boss. �Don�t look at me like that,� Crawford told her without turning. �You didn�t even try. We could protect him.� �He doesn�t need protecting.� �We could put him in a safe house, set a trap�.� Crawford turned to face her then, fingers lingering on the keys in the ignition. �He doesn�t need protecting! We�re the ones who�d need protecting. You don�t understand. When Lecter wrote �I love you�, he meant it. And Will�� he glanced passed her, out of the passenger window to the house they�d just left. �I think he loved Hannibal at one time. Or he thought he did.� * �What do you have for me today, Barney?� The question was followed by a sucking sound of liquid in an otherwise dry mouth. The big black man sat forward, holding out a videotape. �This, Mr Verger.� Without prompting, Cordell stepped forward to take the black-boxed tape. The man in the wheelchair turned himself to face the large plasma screen in the centre of the room, interest sparkling in his dark eyes. �What is it?� Cordell pushed the tape into the VCR and pressed �play�. The screen flickered to life, a black and white image instantly recognisable to Verger as the corridor outside Hannibal�s cell. After a couple of seconds, the picture zoomed in and the volume came up. Lecter was sitting on the floor of his cell, next to the glass, head leaned forward, hand raised to the air holes. On the other side of the glass, a young man sat with his thigh, shoulder and head pressed against the thick partition. He was obviously distressed, even with the slightly fuzzy picture that was clear. Lecter was speaking, his words barely audible until the sound came up another notch, on the tape rather than the volume of the television. Then the younger man�s sobs could be heard, heart-breaking sounds of shattering pain. And over them, Lecter�s voice speaking a name, �Will�, in a soothing tone. But the most poignant thing on the tape, the thing that caught Verger�s attention, was the physical caress. Lecter was stroking the young man�s arm through one of the air holes, the back of his index finger rubbing up and down in a short, restricted but nevertheless utterly sensual movement. �Who is that?� Verger asked quietly, not wanting to break the spell, not tearing his eyes from the screen. �His name�s Will Graham. He�s an ex-FBI investigator. This was taped by Dr Chilton late one night.� �Why the tears?� �Can�t remember. Sorry, Mr Verger.� �No matter, Barney.� He sucked back the moisture on his non-existent lips. �How much?� * The Internet, Lecter had decided, was the most amazing tool. Since finding physical freedom, he�d found a freedom like no other on message boards and in chat rooms. On a beautiful Florence morning, as he sat with a smooth cappuccino in his hand and warm thoughts of Will Graham in his mind, he entered his favourite chat room as �Rosebud�, as had become his habit, and found a message waiting for him. It was a closed file; one that only his password would open. He felt a rare chill as the screen divided into four quarters and a different image appeared in each quarter. In the top left-hand corner, the distasteful photograph from the Tattler newspaper, taken of Will as he�d lain in hospital after Lecter�s attack, with tubes coming out of every orifice. To its right, a house with the number 24 on the door. Below that, text; an address and telephone number. He noticed with anger that the address wasn�t the same as the one he�d spent months getting access to, the one to which he�d sent the letter. This one was a P.O. Box in Vancouver. And to the left of it, there was playing a black and white video clip of he and Will. He remembered the night well. *** Flashback *** Hearing the steel barred gate slamming, Lecter sat up. Footsteps approached, and he knew who it was before the young man appeared at the glass. �Will?� Lecter dispensed with the sarcastic barbs and tearing comments. There was something very wrong. Not in all the time they�d known one another had Will let him see such weakness. There were tears in his eyes and on his cheeks. There was blood on his white sweater under his usual, battered leather jacket and he was shaking, a subtle trembling through his hands and arms. He pressed both palms against the thick glass of Lecter�s cell and dropped his forehead forward. �Will�.� Shaking his head slowly, Will sank to the hard, cold floor and Hannibal followed him down. He couldn�t remember a time when the glass had been such a terrible barrier. �Will, what happened?� It was a few minutes before he got an answer. Only when he could speak without choking on his words did Will talk to him. �Decker� his name was Decker�.� �The man you�ve been hunting for dear Jack Crawford?� A quick nod. �You found him, didn�t you?� Another nod. �How?� A long, deep breath. �I just� I knew where he�d be. He� he cut himself open when we found him in this� work shop.� He wasn�t making much sense. �Will, is this your blood?� �No. It�s his, theirs� so many� bodies all over the place.� Suddenly, he sat up, tore off his jacket and his hands went to the base of his sweater. �No, Will!� Extending his index finger through the inch-wide hole in the thick glass, Lecter managed to touch the other man�s upper arm, stroking firmly. �You�re in shock. Just relax.� Leaning into the slight but soothing touch, Will let himself fall completely apart. ***end flashback*** It didn�t take long for Lecter to link a name to the message that had been left for him. He�d taught himself more than the basics of Internet etiquette. Internet security was very much his strength. Mason Verger. So, his butterfly wanted revenge. It wasn�t the return to public life he�d warned Will about in his letter, but he had to move quickly now. Lecter hated being forced into anything but with Will in danger he had very little choice. Verger was a cruel, twisted man, made that way by Lecter himself and in the past it had been something to be proud of. But now he would have to finish what he started over twenty years ago. No one was going to take Will Graham from him. * Clarice woke from a restless sleep and, with images and ideas of damp walls and howling dogs still echoing in her head, she picked up the squawking telephone. �Starling?� �Yes�.� �Crawford. Graham�s disappeared.� She tried to pull the threads of her still partially-sleeping mind together. �What?� �Last night. Neighbours reported a break-in just after midnight. He�s gone. And there�s something else.� She waited for what she knew was coming. �We think Lecter flew into Baltimore at five-fifteen this morning.� �Think?� �Why don�t you get down here?� In the FBI field office, a squad room full of nervous cops greeted her. Crawford was at the front, and the moment he laid eyes on her, he quieted the men and women down. �You all know why you�re here at the crack of dawn. We believe that Hannibal Lecter flew into Baltimore on this morning�s first flight from New York. There was a flight into there late last night from Florence, Italy. We believe that�s where he�s been living.� �A lot of beliefs and no real evidence,� one cop called out from the back of the room. His words were bordering on insubordinate but hardly served to hide the fear in his voice. �What isn�t a belief is that ex-FBI investigator William Graham was taken from his home in Vancouver last night. Local police confirm that there was a struggle. We�re linking this to Lecter�s appearance although at the moment we don�t know how the two events are connected.� �Maybe Lecter took him,� Starling suggested. �Maybe. We�re checking flights into Vancouver and out again to Baltimore. But the airhostess claims that the man she thought to be Lecter was alone on the plane this morning. She didn�t remember seeing anyone fitting Graham�s description.� �But she identified Lecter?� �She thinks it was him.� There was a collective sigh. �Listen up! We need to figure out what Lecter�s doing here, where he�d go, who�s recently offended him in some way and what this has to do with Graham.� When Clarice spoke it was with an odd teasing tone. �Shouldn�t we be concentrating on finding Graham?� �The local police have already started a search. If this is connected, there�s a chance he�s being brought to Baltimore or is already here. If someone�s been communicating with Lecter that someone either knew where he was or had a way of contacting him, find out which it is. Lecter�s not here for a holiday, people. We need to find him before he kills again.� Clarice returned to her basement office in disgust. Lecter had once mentioned the possibility of Crawford being the obsessed one. First Graham and then her sent in to question the most dangerous individual in the country. Not until now had she even considered the possibility that the doctor had been right about her boss. All around her, photos, tapes of their sessions together, reports written about �Hannibal the Cannibal�, newspaper clippings almost worshipping him. And a photocopy of the letter he�d written to Graham. Dropping into her chair, she stared at her computer screen � the slowly spinning FBI logo � for a long time before an idea struck. Leaning forward, she searched through the files and folders on her desk, some with coffee rings adoring the front. Finally, she pulled several sheets of pink paper stapled together from under a small pile. A recent investigation into Internet crime had produced a list of the top one hundred message boards, chat rooms and web sites where criminals were most likely to communicate. Following on from the initial listing of them all under the three type headings, they�d been further broken down by criminal type; paedophiles, arsonists, rapists, murderers, serial killers. Her eyes skim-read the serial killer listing, but she knew Lecter better than that. Turning the page, she found the rapists list and bringing up an Internet browser on her computer, she typed in the URL of the top message board. Half an hour later, she struck gold. A name � Mason Verger � rang a whole cacophony of bells, and she checked Lecter�s files. Verger had been his fourth victim and the only one to survive. The only one, that was, except for Graham. Instead of eating parts of Verger, Hannibal had instead persuaded the man to cut off his own face and had fed the soggy pieces to the man�s dogs. All Verger had wanted from him was acceptance. And, it seemed, sex. He�d asked Lecter round to seduce him and instead had ended up disfiguring himself horribly on Lecter�s whim. How could a person have feelings for someone like that? Lecter mutilated and killed for pleasure. Yet Graham had shown no repulsion when he�d read the letter. Okay, so they�d been lovers before he�d known what Lecter was, but once he�d found out�. She shook the thoughts from her head. Who was she to say what was kind of behaviour was normal and what wasn�t? Wasn�t she just the least bit jealous? She�d spent years imagining herself as close to Lecter, as having become someone special to him in a weird way. To find someone who already fulfilled that place in the extraordinary man�s life, someone as weak as Graham, stung her pride. Despite having been all for finding Graham when up in the squad room, now she knew she would find Lecter first. Scribbling down Verger�s exclusive address, she left in a hurry. * Lecter already knew Verger�s address. He�d kept tabs on the man, just in case. As the only one of his selected victims who was still alive, Verger was strangely precious to him. But he�d always had a feeling that it wasn�t over between them, that there were still loose ends that would one day demand to be tied up. It amused him to know he was right once again. The alarm system was complex, but Lecter had spent his freedom wisely. If captured again, he wanted the highest chance of escape. Compared to the tricks and systems he�d taught himself over the years, Verger�s alarm was simplistic. He entered via a narrow but tall window into a dark dining room. It seemed hardly used. The polished, oak table stretched the length of the room, high backed chairs arranged neatly around it. Silver candlesticks with white, unused candles adored the expensive chests and dressers that lined the walls under the windows. Lecter crossed the room silently, seeing without the aid of a torch. There was light coming through the open door and he stepped through into the marble-floored entrance hall. To his left, an ornate, wide set of stairs went up to an open landing and balcony. Lecter imagined all the rooms upstairs with furniture covered by dustsheets. Opposite the dining hall door, a set of double doors stood open. They led through into a massive room. Strolling forward and looking around, Lecter knew that this was where Verger actually lived. The man was a cripple, existing in a wheelchair, on medication and drips. He couldn�t chew, instead had to take liquids through a straw. Lecter had done that to him. Some way inside the living room-cum-bedroom, a large, four-poster bed stood grand against the wall. Even in the dim light he could see several plasma television screens hanging above the end of the bed. Judging by the lack of colour play on the sheets, he guessed they were all switched off. There were IV drips around the head of the bed. And as he looked, Lecter could see that it was occupied. �Mason.� Lecter whispered the name under his breath, yet it sounded incredibly loud in the silence of the large, high room. Crossing the polished, wooden floor, he approached the bed, aware of waking Verger if he was asleep but listening out for the movements of others if his presence had already been discovered by way of a secondary surveillance system. That he was expected was one thing he was certain of. Only when he got closer, did he realise he�d been mistaken. It wasn�t Verger in the bed, it was Will. Crossing the final distance in two strides, Lecter grabbed the knife from his belt and sliced through the ropes tying the man�s right hand to the corner post of the bed. �Will�.� Ignoring every other detail except for the blue eyes that begged for freedom, holding them for a moment with his own, he leaned over and sliced through the second rope. Arms free, Will attempted to sit up, but Lecter put a firm hand on his bare shoulder and held him back. �It�s all right,� he whispered, fingers going to the corner of the tape covering Will�s mouth. �I�m going to take the gag off. Don�t make a sound, understood?� Will nodded quickly, and the gag was ripped away in one swift motion. The blue eyes filled with tears, a combination of relief and terror Lecter guessed. �Help,� was the only word to issue from the bleeding lips. �That�s why I�m here.� It was a lie, but there was no need to scare Will any more. He sat back slightly and let his gaze wander the length of Will�s naked body. His ankles were tied in much the same way his wrists were, and Lecter got to his feet to reach those ropes, slicing through them easily. Will moved slightly and winced. �Just lie still,� he was instructed, �I need to see what else he�s done to you.� Lecter was reminded of the newspaper photo of Will lying in Intensive Care in the hospital. There was an IV valve in the back of his right hand. An empty drip was attached to it, and Lecter could only hope that what had been fed into Will�s system was harmless. He took a firm hold of the body of the valve and slid the long, wicked needle out of the vein. Further down, Lecter saw a colostomy bag lying on the mattress, the tube snaking under another piece of tape on the left side of Will�s abdomen over the place where Lecter�s blade had permanently marked him long ago. Holding down the tube, watching the pain light up on Will�s face, Lecter pulled the tape away. His deeply buried anger slid up a notch. A rough cut had been made into Will�s side, crossing the scar tissue of the old injury, and the tube pushed into him. The only thing in the bag was blood. This wasn�t a medical procedure, it was a cruelty. Lecter glanced up, seeing Will struggling against the pain to try and sit. He held the blue gaze for a moment, and then taking his knife he sliced a strip from the sheet on the bed. When Lecter eased the plastic tube from inside him, Will bit down on his hand hard enough to draw blood. More tears fell from his eyes to his pale cheeks. There was nothing Lecter could do for the pain here. He used the long strip of sheet as a bandage, wrapping it quickly around Will�s abdomen and tying it in place. Following the medical theme, a narrow catheter ran from the tip of Will�s limp penis into a bag placed between his spread legs. As Lecter carefully removed it, he saw the second tube, thicker. An enema, as far as he could work out. Lecter pulled that out too, running his hands up under Will�s back to make sure there was nothing worse hidden out of sight. �Okay, Will.� Helping the young man sit up, Lecter took the blanket folded up at the base of the bed and shook it open, wrapping it around Will�s shoulders. �Can you stand?� Before he could answer, they were interrupted. A sound, a cruel laugh, came from the doorway to the hall. �He�s not going anywhere, Dr Lecter. And neither are you.� Leaving Will for the moment, Lecter straightened and turned. �Mason,� he smiled fondly, �how good to see you again.� The sight that befell him filled him with a sick pride. Verger�s face was nothing but scar tissue. His eyes were dark orbs, hardly any white remaining. His mouth looked as if a doctor had taken a guess as to where it might have once been and stitched around it, leaving a gummy, toothless hole. His once incredible mane of blond hair was gone, leaving nothing but hints and wisps. Compared to his beautiful Will, Verger was an aberration. But he had a beauty all his own and to Lecter�s unique perspective he was magnificent. �You fell into my trap,� Verger told him with ill-suppressed glee. �I knew you�d come for him.� Lecter smiled, taking a step forward, away from the bed. �The video.� �Yesss. I�d have never known�� he made a sucking sound, a necessity of his state, �� you could be so tender with any other. When I�ve� dealt with you, I intend on getting to know� him a lot better.� Lecter hated idle threats. If it was even possible for Verger to get it up, raping Will wasn�t going to give him any insight into the man�s unique mind. In Graham�s state, it would probably simply shatter him. �Where did you get the tape?� Lecter was interested, but with each passing heartbeat he was moving closer to Verger, away from Will. �Barney.� Lecter tilted his head, a little surprised although he didn�t show it. Barney hadn�t taped he and Will that night, Chilton had. Never in his life had he been so glad of a chosen victim. Chilton had died slowly, in terror and pain. The memory made him smile. �Ah. So what now, Mason?� He was slipping. Lecter hadn�t seen the other two men in the shadows, so intent had he been on Will. When they each grabbed an arm and used their feet to spread his legs, he barely reacted, gaze locked with Verger�s. �I�ve been� thinking about this� for so long. Planning. I want you to know what it felt like. I�m going to� remove your skin, watch you writhe in the same� agony you put me through.� �Sweet revenge indeed.� Lecter wasn�t thinking about Verger�s words. He was waiting. Opportunity was his way out. It was how he�d escaped in the past. Threats of pain meant nothing. Pain was a state of mind. Twist that state and it could be something enjoyable, pleasurable. �Revenge� such an ugly word.� Verger moved his thumb, shifting the stick control and moving the electric wheelchair forward until his useless legs connected with Lecter�s. �I want you to know. To feel. To understand me. I want this� to be something we share.� Lecter�s eyes roamed the terrible face. �There�s so much we could share, Mason.� �Not until we�re the same. I have to see you like� me, Hannibal. And then, I�ll kill you myself. Like you� should� have killed me.� Licking his lips as they turned into a smile, Lecter blinked once. �Mason�.� Will moved so fast that the first thing Lecter really saw was Verger�s wheelchair topple as Will leapt on him. The man to Lecter�s right shifted, drew a pistol from a holster under his jacket and aimed all in the space of a moment. A flash of light and in his mind�s eye Lecter could see the back of Will�s head exploding in graphic detail. �No!� The sound of a gunshot echoed around the walls, bouncing off the wooden floor. And the man at Lecter�s side dropped like a broken doll. A second later, another shot rang out and the other man went too. Lecter turned, already moving forwards, and saw Clarice crouched several feet behind him, gun held in both hands, her aim perfect. He flashed her a smile of utter adoration before turning again. In the aftermath of the deafening shots, the sound of flesh and bone on wood was muffled. Without speaking, Will was smashing his fist over and over into the fleshy mask of Verger�s face. With each hit, the man�s skull smacked back against the floor, coming up again for the next blow. Crouching down behind him, Lecter called Will�s name quietly, his hand making long soothing strokes over Will�s cold, bare back. Slowly, he moved his other hand over a taut shoulder and down one arm, covering the hand that held Verger by his scrawny throat. Sliding his fingers between Will�s, Lecter coaxed him to let go. �It�s over, Will,� he purred softly. �I think he�s dead.� Clarice watched as Lecter managed to draw Will back from the inert man lying on the floor, half-out of his wheelchair, his head rested in a growing pool of blood. Rising to her feet, she picked up the blanket from where Will�s sudden move had dumped it next to the bed and moved cautiously up behind them, easing it over Will�s shoulders. As if the weight was too much, Will�s legs gave out and he collapsed. Hannibal swept him up into his arms with grace and tenderness. �We need to go,� he told her, and she nodded her agreement. She drove in silence. In the back of the car, Hannibal sat with Will lying across the seat, the blond head cushioned on Lecter�s thigh. �He needs a hospital,� were the only words she spoke, to which Lecter replied, �No. He�s seen too many hospitals. He�s suffered enough indecencies for one day. We need privacy. Seclusion. He needs to rest without fear.� �He needs you.� But she didn�t voice the thought. Lecter knew where she was going before she knew herself. * The lake-side house, with its own half-mile long drive and no neighbours for a mile in either direction, belonged to an old acquaintance of Clarice�s, one Paul Krendler, FBI. Days later, she�d find out that Paul was missing, and in a couple of weeks, she would be a member of the team that found him in the lake, dead and puzzlingly mutilated. Not that it mattered yet. Not that it would matter much then. Lecter carried Will, still wrapped up in the blanket taken from Verger�s home, into the house and upstairs. He didn�t bother asking her why she had a key. She told herself that it was because his attention was elsewhere. The alternative was too disturbing. Up in the bathroom, Lecter lowered Will carefully to the tiled floor, cradling the loping head in one hand, letting it fall to one side. He could only hope that what Mason had been putting into Will�s blood stream through the IV line was some mild sedative that had kicked in after the adrenaline surge. Crossing to the bath, he turned on both taps and tested the water temperature before leaving it to fill. Searching the bathroom, Lecter was pleased to find everything he needed. Clarice appeared with the bowl of boiling water he�d requested, and a needle. Paul had some black suture thread in his First Aid kit. Hannibal put the needle and the thread into the boiling water before asking Clarice to leave them. The makeshift bandage around Will�s waist and over his stomach was bloodstained. Lecter removed it with care and used a cloth dipped in the bowl of boiling water to clean the wound. When he started to close the cut with stitches, Will shifted, made a slight effort to get away from the discomfort. But he stilled after thirty seconds or so, causing Lecter to reach up and check that his pulse was steady and strong. With the stitching completed, Lecter covered his handiwork with a waterproof, sterile dressing he�d also found in the First Aid kit along with a couple of pain killing tablets that he�d force-fed to his patient. The bath was ready, half-filled with warm water, and lifting Will from the blanket, mindful of the injury, Lecter lowered him carefully in. He came around almost immediately, fighting the strong hands holding him for a brief moment until he realised who he was with. �Dr Lecter�.� �You�re all right, Will. Just a quick bath and then rest.� Blue eyes took in the bath and the strange room. �Where are we?� �Safe. For now. Don�t worry, I�ll take you home soon. You need to trust me, Will. Can you do that?� A quick nod. �Good.� Forcing himself to relax in the water, Will closed his eyes while Lecter checked him for other injuries, washing him down with the sponge from the edge of the tub. As he lay there, with the warmth of the water and Hannibal�s gentle touches, Will let himself slip into the welcoming darkness of sleep once more, trusting as he�d been told to that he would wake again. Trusting that Lecter wouldn�t let him drown. * ��the warm mornings. Hearing the church bells ringing across the square as I sit sipping good coffee and reading the newspapers�.� Will listened to Lecter�s voice for a while, not sure if he was dreaming or if the quiet talking and the cocoon of warmth were real. Not sure if he wanted to know. His side hurt where he�d been cut open, but the pain was vague, like everything else. There was a distant stinging in the tip of his cock, and his ass ached as if�. But his memory served him up the real reason why he was feeling like he was. Opening his eyes, looking into the darkened room, he turned his head slightly. Hannibal lifted his head from where his cheek had been resting on Will�s crown. �You�re safe, Will.� �Have you� drugged me?� Lecter chuckled, dropping a light kiss into the blond hair, loving the feel of just having him close again. �Just a mild pain killer.� There was a sound downstairs and Will tensed. �That�s Clarice.� �FBI?� �Yes. Don�t worry, Will. Soon you�ll be home and this will be over.� Lecter�s tone reminded Will of that night. Of the cold shock of discovering that his lover was the man he�d been hunting, a serial killer who ate parts of his victims. Of the terrible betrayal when Lecter had stabbed him, slicing into him while holding him as he�d held him so many times before. Of the bitter pain of stabbing back, of firing and then later of waking to find his world changed beyond recognition. �I�m not going to hurt you.� Breathing deeply, Will closed his eyes again. He could feel Hannibal�s strong, clothed body pressed lightly against his back. He remembered other nights, a million years ago. Lying together in the cool of Lecter�s bedroom, wrapped up in one another, slowly making love or desperately fucking. Lecter could read Will�s moods, knew what he wanted � what he needed - the moment he stepped in through the front door. �I miss you,� he whispered, so softly that he could barely hear himself. �I�ve been thinking of you. Did you get my letter?� �Eventually.� �Crawford.� Lecter almost spat the name. Will found Hannibal�s hand resting over his heart and touched his fingers the back of it before letting his hand drop back to the clean sheets. �Remind me to give you my address before you leave,� he murmured tiredly. �Remind me to give you mine.� But he might have been imagining the words. He lost his fight with the chemicals in his system and was pulled back under into blissful unconsciousness. The next time he opened his eyes, the dim light of evening had turned to the darkness of night. The rest of the house was quiet. Lecter was still with him, lying on top of the sheets that covered him. It was good to see him again, without the barriers of glass, guards and surveillance. He�d had years to contemplate his relationship with Hannibal, his feelings for a killer. He�d gone through every reaction in the book. At first, he�d been sickened by what they�d done, the mouth he�d lusted after, the cock he�d submitted to. Those feelings of perversion had lasted right up until Crawford had dug him up from Florida and set him on the path of the �man-dragon�. Facing Lecter again had been the most difficult thing he�d ever done. ***flashback*** �You stink of fear under that cheap lotion.� He stood, kicking the chair back and turning from the glass, taking two hurried steps along the stone corridor. �You stink of fear, Will, but you�re not a coward.� Graham stopped in his tracks, his heart pounding so loud he was sure Lecter could hear it too. Chilton, even, up there in his busy little office. �You fear me but still you came here. You fear this shy boy� but still you seek him out.� Trying desperately not to think about what the words meant, about the nightmare he was stepping back into, Will held his ground, his back to Lecter. �Don�t you understand, Will?� The sound of his name on those lips, spoken in that honeyed tone. The blood rush was frightening but undeniable, like it had always been. �You caught me because we are very much alike. Without our imaginations we�d be like all those other poor� dullards.� Will turned his head slightly, tears stinging behind his eyes, determined not to give in to the emotions clamouring for freedom from the cell of his mind. A moment later, he lost the battle and turned back, taking a step toward the glass before he realised what he was doing. Lecter�s eyes locked with his own and that chemistry, the unmistakable spark that had brought them together at the beginning, leapt between them. �Fear, Will, is the price of our instrument. But I can help you bear it.� If only�. If only he were free to accept that offer. But he wasn�t. They would never be. ***end flashback*** He tried to turn over, to face Hannibal for what might be the last time. The arm around him held him in place. �Don�t, Will.� The words, whispered against the back of his neck, tapped thoughts in his mind that he�d tried his damnedest to bury. The sensation of Hannibal�s breath on his skin had the same effect it always had. Closing his eyes, he murmured, �I want you.� There was a long silence. And then, �Are you sure?� �Please. You�re going to leave me again. Just this once, here, now. Make love to me.� Knowing how much it had cost him to say that just made it harder to hear. Slipping under the sheets, Lecter touched his lips to the top of Will�s spine, stroking the palm of his hand down over the slim hip and around to caress his ass. �If it helps, Will, you�re the only one I�ve never wanted to harm.� Moving closer, he let his lover feel that he too was nude. �That night,� he murmured, trailing a path of butterfly kisses along Will�s shoulders, �I didn�t want you to feel any pain. The others, they�d all been alive, been aware of what was happening. You�. I�d have mourned you, Will.� Turning his head back, Will searched out Hannibal�s mouth with his own. �Stop talking.� * Clarice pushed open the bedroom door silently and let her eyes wander over the two of them. They were in bed, covered by a single sheet. Will was lying on his side, Hannibal�s strong, muscular form behind him, holding him in a fiercely protective embrace. Both of them were asleep. They looked sated, contented. Connected. Closing the door again, she padded downstairs to make coffee. Will waited a beat before talking. �Is it you she�s into or me?� He murmured the words, still between sleeping and waking. �Don�t flatter yourself.� There was a chuckle in the reply, and Will felt it in Lecter�s chest against his back. �The medication will have worn off. I�ll fetch you another dose.� Will shook his head. �I�ll go. I need the bathroom.� Cautiously, he swung his legs out from under the sheet, leaving Hannibal�s warm embrace for the chilled air of the room. There was a small bottle of pills on the side of the sink in the en-suite. Will picked it up, read the label then flicked off the cap and palmed three. His side hurt like hell now. Swallowing the pills, he lifted the toilet seat and started to pee. Dropping back into bed he was gathered up again into his lover�s arms. �That really fucking hurt,� he muttered, eyes closed against threatening tears. �The pills will help,� he was told softly. But it took a while for them to kick in. �You�re leaving, aren�t you?� �I have to. Clarice won�t be able to resist turning me in. The only reason this house isn�t already pulsing with FBI agents is you.� �Me?� �She won�t hurt you. Having me arrested while we�re here like this, after what you�ve been through, is inconceivable to her and she isn�t sure how you�d react. You�re weak in her eyes and I�m the best thing for you. She knows, but she doesn�t understand.� Kissing Will�s throat, Hannibal breathed in their combined scents. �You�re not weak, Will. You�re going to be fine.� He didn�t answer immediately. Instead, he turned onto his other side, facing his lover. He opened his mouth to say something, but only managed a small sigh before leaning in to slide his tongue over Hannibal�s lips. Wishing things were so very different wouldn�t make it so. * Later, when they finally rose, it was nearing midday. They showered and dressed. Clarice found Will one of Paul�s dark blue sweaters and a pair of black jeans that were far too wide for him. She dug out a belt to hold them up. Standing staring out of the bedroom window, Will only smiled when Hannibal�s arms wrapped around his chest from behind. It was a position almost everyone else who�d met the doctor would have either frozen in, or ducked out from and ran. �You should see a doctor,� Lecter told him, rubbing his chin into Will�s right shoulder. �Yeah.� �You�ll never be free of me, you know that, don�t you?� It wasn�t a threat, it was almost an apology, and Will nodded. �It�s okay now.� For a long time, they simply stood like that, Will�s hands crossed on Lecter�s arms. And then the words that broke his heart. �Goodbye, my dear Will. Take care of yourself, you�re very precious to me.� By the time he�d swallowed passed the lump in his throat, those strong arms were gone from around him and the door had clicked shut. He remained in front of the window for a while, before going downstairs to find Clarice. * * * Despite the bitter chill in the air, the sun was shining on the morning�s snowfall. Will closed the front door with his ass, kicking off his boots as he stepped down into the kitchen. Turning on the tap with his elbow, he washed his grease-covered hands. Fixing boat and seaplane motors didn�t pay well during the summer, during the winter he couldn�t have lived off what he made. But he didn�t have to. The compensation awarded to him by the court after he�d put Lecter behind bars � or glass � was more than enough to support his cheap lifestyle. He thought about Lecter often, wondering where he was, what he was doing. Wondering if he was happy. Was Lecter ever happy? Did he ever find pleasure in life? Flicking the kettle on, Will padded into the living room and switched on his computer. He�d made himself a pot of coffee by the time Windows asked him for a password. He had five new mails waiting for him, and he dropped into the desk chair to read them. The first two were from Crawford. More notes and photographs in connection with a case he was working long-distance. He filed them away, knowing he wouldn�t give them his full attention until the sun had gone down. The next was from Josh. His son was at school, gaining good grades and looking to become a lawyer. The easy banter made Will smile, and he replied back immediately. They had a good relationship and it was one of the few things that made his life bearable. Sipping his coffee, he clicked �Send� and let the fourth message open. �My dear Will�.� Pulse rate instantly rising, he glanced at the sender�s address. From: [email protected] He actually laughed. It felt good, and he read the rest of the mail. �My dear Will, I believe I�m safe here for now, after a year of living undisturbed. I have a small, anonymous practice on the Internet � such a useful tool � and I�ve considered contacting you again for many months. But yesterday, I was suddenly and unexpectedly reminded of you, and I realised how very much I missed you. I�d like to hear from you, Will. More than that, I�d love to see you. I hope you�re well, moreover I hope you�re happy. I�ve taken pains to keep my life my own. There�s never been anyone I couldn�t kill, or walk away from. But you, Will, you�re so special to me. I�ve found that I need you in my life, even if it�s just your words on a screen. Tell me about yourself, about your life, your son. Is he well? Are you a proud father? Worry not, my dear, the only way he�ll ever know me or hear of me is if you tell him. I wish him no harm. He�s a part of you and you are a part of him. I will wait, Will, for your reply. Until then, I�ll think of you often. Always yours, H.� His hand rested on the mouse, Will considered for a moment. But only a moment. He clicked �Reply� and with a smile, he started to type. |