SILENT NIGHT

by elfin


Clarice stared at the large, framed pencil drawing that hung above the fireplace.  It was the only thing on the walls, the only frame in the whole room.  Glancing around, she watched as Graham dropped into a large armchair and pulled the sleeves of his grey sweater down over his hands and fingers.

He hadn't offered her a drink.

"This is... different," she told him, finding her gaze drawn back to it.  At the base of the drawing, on the right hand side, there was a signature, as clear as day.

'Hannibal L, 1980'

"Oh God..." she murmured softly, turning from the canvas to the slim, blond man sitting in front of her.  "Lecter drew this?"  Will nodded.  "Where did you get it?"

"He gave it to me.  It was a Christmas gift."

"Wow."  There seemed no other way to react.  "What does it mean?"

Will hesitated before answering. "It's of me.  It's the way he saw me.  He said... he said it was what he loved."


***flashback, 1980, Christmas Eve***

The soft chime of the doorbell brought the hall light on, and a second later, Dr Lecter opened the front door of his home.

Outside, the song of carol singers echoed hauntingly into the silence of the night, and the streetlights reflected off the blanket of snow.

Neither of these things brought a wider smile to his lips than seeing who was calling at such an hour.
"Will.  What a unexpected pleasure."The young man standing on the doorstep frowned.  "I'm sorry about the time."

"No, don't be.  Come in."  Hannibal stepped back, letting Will pass, unable to completely disguise his lopsided grin as melting snow dripped to the hall's tiled floor.  "Snowing again, I see."  Will looked sheepishly at his thick black coat and nodded, finally smiling.  "Let me take that."

Hannibal slid the coat off the narrow shoulders and hung it, noticing Will's clothes; a thick, knitted cream jumper over black jeans.  "You're not working?"

"It's my night off."

A pleased expression slid over the doctor's face.  "Then this truly is a pleasure.  Why don't you come through?  I'll pour us both a brandy."

Instead of leading them into his office, as Dr Lecter had done on so many occasions over the last couple of months, he took Will into the lounge.

Long drapes were closed against the winter weather, a log fire burned and crackled in the grate.  There was a just-opened bottle of red wine on the coffee table and a glass standing next to an open book with a French title.

Will sat down, letting himself sink into the deep, burgundy leather sofa.  "If I'm disturbing anything...."

Hannibal wouldn't hear it.  "Not at all.  You're welcome here, Will, whatever the time.  Besides, I have a gift for you."

Opening an understated drinks cabinet in the far corner of the room, he took two heavy glasses from a small shelf and opened the expensive brandy, pouring two generous measures.

"A gift?"

"It's Christmas, Will.  It's a custom, I've been told."

Will knew he was being teased, but he couldn't help it.  "You... you didn't have to get me anything...."  He trailed off, at a loss.

Lecter just smiled as he took the drinks over to the sofa and handed one to his visitor.  Placing his own glass on the low table in the centre of the room, he told Will he'd be right back.

The burning logs in the grate were a comfort against the freezing cold outside.  Will lost himself for a time in the crackling of the wood and the dancing flames.  He looked up when Lecter stepped back into the room carrying his gift.

Placing his glass carefully on the carpet, he accepted the present as Lecter handed it to him.  He could feel that there was a frame beneath the thick, loosely fastened white wrapping paper.

Growing up, his parents hadn't been able to afford much at Christmas, so as an adult, his joy at receiving gifts was as pure as a child's.  He unwrapped the large gift slowly, careful not to tear the expensive paper.

As it fell away, he held the heavy silver frame propped up in his lap, and stared at the pencil drawing on the mounted canvas behind the glass.

It was of him.  He was seated on what looked to be the very sofa he was sitting on now.  His arms were crossed on one of the high arms, his cheek rested on them as he gazed off into the distance.  The likeness was remarkable; he might have posed for it, had he ever been in this room before.

The rest of the room was minimally represented - the tall windows in the background, the coffee table, the fireplace.

It would have been a warm drawing were it not for the shadows. 

All around his likeness were dark shadows.  They had vague human forms, no features, but long fingers that reached for him, just brushing over his hair.

He stared at it.

"It's..."

"It's disturbing."  Lecter perched on the arm of the sofa next to Will.  "I know.  It's supposed to be.  It's... the way I see you sometimes."

Will glanced up.  "You drew this?"

"Yes.  I hope you're not insulted, I'm no professional...."

"It's incredible."  It was.  No one had ever drawn him before.  Indeed, no one had ever stepped inside his head and sketched what was there.  "Thank you."  He meant it.

Lecter smiled, and taking the frame he placed it against the alcove next to the fireplace.  It would be safe there for now.

"I'm glad you like it, or at least, don't hate it."  He took up his drink and dropped into the opposite corner of the sofa, sitting up and stretching his arm out behind the high back.

"I don't hate it at all.  I... I'm touched."  He hoped his voice was communicating better than his choice of words.

But Lecter had mentally put the gift aside for now.  "There's something on your mind," he told his young companion easily.

Will took a first sip of the brandy, letting the heat burn a path down his throat.

"It's nothing."  He leaned back into the corner of the sofa and raised his arm too, up along the back, absently rubbing the faults in the leather with his thumb.

Hannibal frowned, concerned suddenly.  "Will?"

"Honestly.  It's just... Christmas Eve.  Molly and Josh are away at her parents."  He glanced up.  "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come here.  I'm not the best of company right now and after everything...."  He glanced back at the large, simple frame, his eyes playing over the image of himself.  From a distance, Lecter looked to have given him a contented expression.  It made the shadows all the more disturbing.

"Of course you should have come."  Shifting his hand, Hannibal lay it over Will's forearm, feeling the thick knit of the wool under his palm.  "You've spent Christmas alone before, though."  It was a highly educated guess.  "What else is bothering you?"

Will sighed.  "Him."

'Him' was the unnamed killer Will had been on the trail of for months.  He'd been nicknamed 'The Chesapeake Ripper' but they'd both refrained from ever calling him that.  It didn't seem appropriate since there was no actual ripping involved.

This killer wasn't a psychopath or a madman.  He didn't follow the usual laws laid down by serial killers before him.  He was careful, clean and meticulous.

There was no pattern they could work out, nothing they could pin down.  Someone with a grudge against his profession, Will had guessed, someone with anatomical knowledge. 

Hannibal and Will had been working together on the profile.  They'd worked together once before, and although it had ended badly, they'd at least saved the woman who was about to become his next victim.

Dr Lecter couldn't help but admire the young Investigator.  He was an eideteker, and that skill, mixed with pure empathy and a frightening ability to project himself into the exact same mindset and emotional state as the killers he hunted down, made him a gift for the FBI, and a threat to his own, fragile sanity. 

It scared and upset him, and for this reason, he'd been put into the hands of Dr Hannibal Lecter, forensic psychiatrist and criminal profiler.

Unable to make any headway with acting as Will's doctor, Lecter had assumed the role of mentor and assistant.

"You know he's going to kill again, maybe over Christmas, and you feel guilty."  A nod.  "Have you been dreaming again?  You look tired."

Another nod.  "He has a face in my mind... not a devil or a demon just a normal, human face."

Hannibal rubbed his thumb back and forth over the thick wool of Will's sleeve.

"It's upsetting you, this one, more than usual."  Sometimes the distinction between friend and doctor was hard to maintain.

"I don't know why."

"Will... you've given Crawford the profile he needs."  Lecter hesitated.  "Why don't you walk away this time?"

Will shook his head.  "I can't.  I need to see it through to the end.  I need to catch this one."

Hannibal felt a tiny curl of cold dread unfolding in the pit of his stomach, but he refused to let it unbalance him.

"Why didn't you go to Molly's parents with her?"

"I couldn't, not with when I'm so close to him.  They're expecting me for New Year but I don't...."

He tried not to leap on the idea too quickly.  "You should go.  It'll do you good.  Maybe some time away from the city will help clear your mind."

There was a hesitation, but Will nodded.  "Maybe you're right."  He took a deep breath, another, longer drink of the brandy, and gazed at where Hannibal's thumb was caressing his arm.

The touch no doubt was one of innocent comfort. 

The doctor had always been carefully physical; slaps on the back, a squeeze of his arm when the answer refused to come, even a brief massage of the shoulders one evening after a particularly frustrating day.

Until now, he'd thought nothing of it.

Glimpsing at Hannibal's relaxed expression, he wondered if there really wasn't anything more to it.

Gathering courage, he moved his own hand to rest on the doctor's outstretched arm, and began a similar, firm movement with his fingers.

Hannibal watched him curiously.

"Will?"

"Do you know what it's like to see things you've never wanted to, to experience horrors you could never even imagine?"

It was the first time he'd openly spoken of his gift, the first time he'd brought the subject up.  As a doctor acting on behalf of his patient's best interests, Lecter was overjoyed, although he kept the response to himself.

He answered truthfully, "No," his tone inviting further confidence.

"I don't have dreams.  I have nightmares.  I can't remember the last time I had a dream that didn't scare the hell out of me."

Hannibal pulled his hand back and slid his fingers into the sleeve of Will's jumper, stroking the fine hairs on his arm with a light touch.  He was a heartbreaker this one.  It could only end in blood between them, and the doctor knew he was stepping closer and closer to that inevitable ending.  But he couldn't stop himself.

"I can help you, Will."

Graham's approach had surprised Lecter, but he wasn't one to let the unexpected faze him.

"Can you take this from me?"

"No.  But I help you control it.  You should only be scared of that which you cannot fight.  You're strong, Will.  You have a strong mind and you're not frightened to defend yourself, in fact you're more than capable.  Very few stand a chance of actually hurting you."

Will had fallen silent.  He didn't take compliments well.  He didn't like to turn his perceptions in on himself.  The less he knew about himself, Lecter had written in his notes on Graham, the better.  It was the opposite of Lecter's own beliefs.

"Tell me, why do you let Crawford use you the way he does?"

Turning his head in the self-depreciating way that he had, Will's fingers stilled on Hannibal's arm.  "He needs me."

"You need you, Will.  If you carry on like this, there won't be a lot of you left."

"Why is that important?"

Seldom had Lecter been moved by any of his patients.  While they told him of their problems, he liked to sit and think of interesting ways in which he might turn their nightmares against them.

With Will he'd always sensed a mentality so fragile that if he pushed too hard he would break it.  And yet, with that came an amazing strength, one that was undeniably attractive.

Sliding his hand further up his patient's arm, Lecter turned his touches into long caresses.

"You're unique, Will, in more ways than you know.  You have a family who love you."  It was a slightly malicious shot, Hannibal admitted to himself, but he was trying to understand this shift in dynamic between them.  Why had he come here tonight?

A moment later, he knew he'd pushed.  Will's hand was rising from his arm, his body language shifting from the open invitation it had been to closing the door on any possibility.

Lecter moved too.

"No, Will....  I'm sorry.  That... was the wrong thing to say, under the circumstances."  Taking his own hand from Will's sleeve, he gracefully slid a little closer, fingers bending over Will's slim left shoulder.  "Why don't you just tell me what it is that you'd like from me?"

"I... I don't know."  His grasp on the expensive crystal whiskey glass tightened, gaze staring into the amber liquid.

"I think you do.  You're just scared to put it into words."  Hannibal's eyes caught Will's as he glanced up.  "Why did you come here tonight?"

"I wanted company."

"Any company?"

"Your company."

"Why?"

Will hesitated.  "Because... when I'm with you, I'm myself."

Lecter understood his words perfectly.  He wasn't sure if he believed them - he wanted to.  But for tonight, he wasn't going to let it matter.

They met half way, Lecter's head tilting slightly so that when their mouths met, his nose brushed Will's.  Cautiously, wanting to hold but not trap, Hannibal put his hands on Will's shoulders before moving them until his palms were over sharp shoulder blades.

This rare creature was allowing him closer than any had in so long, he wasn't going to repay that with violence.  He coaxed, rather than directed.  Stroking fingers through soft blond hair, feeling muscles ripple in the slim arms as Will shifted on the sofa, moved closer still.

With a smile, Lecter "If we're going to do this, let's do it properly."  Taking Will's hand, he led him over to the thick rug in front of the blazing fire.

For a couple of hours, they were two lovers on Christmas Eve.  Nothing more.  Nothing special.  Nothing terrible.

***end flashback***


"Ten days later, he stabbed me.  Almost killed me."

Clarice shook her head.  "You still keep this here?"

"I love it."

Rubbing her temple, she nodded.  "I'm sorry I disturbed you.  I just... I had to tell you about his escape, and warn you."


Will watched her go, closing the front door quietly after her car had vanished from sight.

"You're not safe here."  He turned into the quiet, strong embrace awaiting him.  "You said, no one will ever be safe around me."

Hannibal smiled into Will's blond hair.  "I need to bare in mind that you remember everything."

Easing back, Will dropped his forehead against Lecter's.  "Where will you go?"

"Italy first."

"Write?"

"Always."  After a long, tender kiss, Lecter stepped away.  "One day, Will, those shadows will vanish, I promise."