| There are three
players. Francis Dolarhyde. A man-dragon. Who went too far and messed with a man he shouldn't have touched. Who hurt this man very badly and frightened away his wife and son. Who put this man in an Intensive Care ward, and then later into a padded room. Will Graham. An FBI Investigator. A husband and father. Who'd been hurt so badly by a cannibal and had fought so desperately for his life. Who'd stood and fired at the man who was threatening his family, while he himself was fired at. Who'd woken alone, swathed in bandages and invaded by tubes and wires. Who'd later attempted to kill himself to end the pain. Dr Hannibal Lecter. A psychopath. A madman. Who'd stabbed and sliced his captor before being stabbed and shot himself. Who'd been locked away where humanity could forget him. Who'd played with those who sought to gain insight into his uniquely evil mind and thought only of one man as he'd lain in a windowless cell. In the weeks that followed, Dolarhyde escaped the hospital where he'd been taken after Will's bullets had pierced his body. Lecter escaped the prison of bricks and glass and Dr Chiltern. It's late afternoon when the police find the body. February 14th. St. Valentines Day. They break into the house after an anonymous phone call to the Baltimore office gives them an address where the Tooth Fairy can be found. In the kitchen, on the breakfast table, they find the mutilated body of a man. His liver, kidneys and heart are missing, and his blood is pooled on the wooden surface. Lying in the drying crimson is a single red rose with a tiny envelope clipped to the stem. Later, in the Baltimore field office, a forensics expert opens the envelope with gloves and tweezers, and pulls out a folded piece of white card. On the front is drawn a rough love heart in red felt-tip pen. Inside, in beautiful flowing Copperplate, he finds the words, My beautiful Will, Happy Valentines Day Always yours, H. Will Graham looks up as the door opens, and a doctor steps into his room. His cell. The doctor isn't the one who usually comes in. He's not the orderly who regularly kneels by his side and injects something into his arm. He's not the male nurse who sometimes comes at night and touches him in a way he doesn't think he likes. But he's too weak, too distant from his own body to really care. This doctor smiles gently, and bends down. He picks up Will's thin frame in strong arms and carries him out of the room. Out of the hospital. He gently seats him in the passenger seat of the open-topped car and gets into the driver's side. He drives them out of the parking lot, out of the town, out of the state. By the time Dr Lecter pulls up in front of the secluded beach house six hours have passed. Will is asleep, and he barely reacts when he's picked up once again and carried into the house. He's placed in the centre of a kingsized bed and covered with a duvet. Then he's left to sleep off the concoction of drugs in his system. It will take time. There is the withdrawal to come. But soon enough he will be well, and Dr Lecter will free them both. |