Author's Note: Thanks for checking this out. I hadn't written anything in a while, but I've been wanting too. I'm obsessed with Hannibal and have been, but The Following has recently become a new obsession. I just had to do a crossover. Let me know what you think. It starts out slow, but the pace will pick up. Let me know if you have any questions about the plot.

Hannibal Lecter raised his wine glass to his lips, but paused a brief moment to breathe in the tantalizing fragrance of the wine. His eyes fell back onto the painting in front of him. He'd made himself get out and go to this charity event. It had been the first "social event" that he had gone to since Will's arrest, except for the meetings with the FBI, when he consulted on crime scenes, or when he had his appointments with Bedelia. The times that he went in search of groceries could not be counted as getting away. He did not count it as that anyway. But being back in the atmosphere of rich aristocrats, well-mannered people, excellent art, and good music made him feel almost back to normal, though. He almost felt like Will was not in his cell, trying to toil through his own mind and prove that he was not the guilty one. It had been nearly a week now that Frederick Chilton had banned all of Will Graham's visitors except the few that were putting together his defense. Hannibal knew that Alana Bloom was probably still visiting too, but everyone, including Alana felt that it was best for Hannibal to stay away, especially with Will's fragile mind. Although Alana had explained that Will's unconsciousness would be his defense, Hannibal was still playing with other ideas in his head. He desperately wanted to feel close to Will again. He wanted their friendship to resume as if it had never left off.

Around him, light piano tones floated around the large gallery room, mixing with the hushed tones of everyone mingling around the exhibits. Every now and then, laughter and the clinking of wine glasses mixed in as well. The extra lighting around the paintings gave the room a warm feeling except for the few dark corners where no light could reach. In the corners a few couples stood, whispering among the shadows. Hannibal stood alone, taking his time as he studied each painting that he already knew well. He had not seen any one here that he recognized. None of the few people that he regularly saw at charity events here in Baltimore and sometimes invited over to his home, seemed to be present, but he did not mind. He used the time that he would normally be having pointless conversations to instead focus on the beauty of the paintings. His favorites were the original pieces. They were the ones that sat in the same places in the gallery. The new pieces, which he cared little about, were being auctioned off for the city's youth clubs. Those pieces gathered the most attention at the opposite end of the gallery room.

"I'm afraid that this particular painting is not for sale."

Hannibal turned from the dark painting, surprised at first that someone had approached him, but also surprised that someone thought he was confused about what was for sale. He met the eyes of the woman who had spoken to him. The blonde woman had curls that fell to her shoulders and she wore a sleek and modest red dress with a high neckline. She held her own wine glass in her right hand, dangling her left over it and dancing her fingers over the rim. There was a faint teasing smile on her lips, letting Hannibal know right away that she had spoken the words in a joking manner.

"But it is one of my very favorite pieces," She said before he could speak. She stepped up beside him, bringing her attention to the painting in front of them both.

Hannibal looked back to the painting as well and breathed in the new scent around him. Her perfume was not overpowering as many of the women who had passed by him already that night. But her perfume was very unique and not one that he could place in his mind. He tilted his chin a little, unnoticed by her, and took another whiff. It smelled a tad of citrus, but it also had a flowery aroma. It was very sweet. Sweet enough that Hannibal felt as though he could taste it. Perhaps she had it specially made? He would not put it past many of the women that he saw in places like this. Even if they perhaps could not afford it, many would have it specially made just so they could say they did.

In his mind, Hannibal acknowledged her simple yet exquisite jewelry, clutch, and heels. Her perfume seemed to fit her, simple yet pleasing to the senses. Just with her presence, she gave off a confidence.

"Francis Bacon always said that we were all potential carcasses," Hannibal spoke when he felt the silence between them was too heavy.

"You're familiar with him then, and his many meat carcass paintings," the woman stared back at the painting as if she were looking out of a window into a busy street. Hannibal watched her study every detail before taking another delicate sip of her wine. "And he himself said that the job of the artist was to deepen mysteries," she continued. "When some of us look at this we see a butcher shop but others see much much more."

Hannibal moistened his lips. "Yes, but many thought him mad," he said, stopping to glance back to her as he spoke.

She smiled back at him, tilting her head slightly in agreement.

"As you are, I'm quite familiar with Mr. Francis Bacon," Hannibal murmured back with a slight smile.

"I'm Lily Gray. I don't think that we've been introduced," the woman responded.

She held her poised hand out to him.

"Hannibal Lecter," he took her hand, leaning in to raise it to his lips politely. "Very nice to meet you."

Hannibal smiled back at her. He had seen her earlier strolling through the small crowds, obviously comfortable with the people around her, but she was not someone he recognized so he had not paid her much attention.

Lily smiled back at him as she retrieved her hand. "Do you find yourself at these charity events often?"

She talked smoothly and confidently, meeting his eyes with her intense green ones.

"Not as often as I would like. This one, however, was so near that I could not pass up the experience." he replied. "What about yourself?"

"Yes… it is mostly my job dealing in this sort of environment."

"Ah an artist?" Hannibal asked.

"Art dealer," she corrected him politely.

"But not an artist?"

"Nothing like this," she motioned back to the painting hanging before them on the wall. "The raw imagery of this is astounding. I could never accomplish this."

Hannibal watched her devour the painting with her eyes once again. He was perplexed that she found the subject matter as interesting as he did. The 1946 painting by Francis Bacon wasn't one that many people enjoyed. He had seen many look at it and crinkle their noses.

"But you…You're extremely successful aren't you? I've read some of your published work," Lily asked as she turned back to him.

Hannibal tilted his head in surprise, feeling his lips form into a slight, surprised smile. "You have?"

"An art dealer that delves in the psychiatric journals?" He slid his left hand into his front trouser pocket casually as he cleared his throat slightly.

Lily smiled. "It's something I enjoy reading for leisure."

"Ah. A little light reading of social exclusion before bed," he said lightly, raising his glass and taking a small sip.

"Yes. Exactly," Lily smiled, showing her perfect teeth.

Hannibal forced a short, polite laugh. "Well that is interesting."

"Not nearly as interesting as some of the art here. There are so many amazing pieces here…new and old," Lily changed the subject as she glanced around.

"I actually haven't made it over to the newer pieces," he said, taking a slight glance in the direction of them across the gallery room. "Do you have pieces there?"

Lily smiled slyly. "I have a few up for auction. I was asked to work on a few things to help raise the money. I couldn't pass it up. I've been so busy lately that I haven't been able to give back as much as I would like to."

"Nor have I," Hannibal swirled the wine in his wine glass as he spoke. "It has been a while since I've been a regular attendant of art shows. I've been rather busy over the past few months, but I must get back to doing so."

Hannibal's mind drifted back to Will for a brief moment, but he pushed the thoughts away, zoning in on the woman standing beside him again.

"Yes you should," Lily said quickly. "It's always nice when people show up to the events you've coordinated," she laughed and glanced down to her wine glass.

"What medium do you enjoy using yourself?" Hannibal asked as he glanced down to her slender fingers. As he did with everyone, he studied her physique to learn as much as possible. Her nails were covered with a clear polish that made them glisten beneath the exhibit lights, but she wore no wedding band.

"I like to paint," she met his eyes once again. "I sometimes get lost for hours in my studio without realizing that time has passed. Then I must remind myself of the real work that I must get done," she brushed a blonde wisp back behind her ear. "Do you paint or draw?"

Hannibal nodded. "I've done quite a lot of drawing in my time. I was given painting lessons by a family member, but it didn't stick as well as just picking up a pencil."

"Well I'd love to see some of your work," Lily smiled.

"And I would like to see yours as well. Perhaps I should go and view the newer pieces," Hannibal said finally after a few brief moments of silence.

"Oh yes please do so," Lily placed her hand on his forearm that was outstretched from holding his wine glass. It was a quick gesture; light, polite, but also confident. Her hand was gone as soon as it touched him, but he could not help but look down at the place she'd touched so gracefully.

"It was very nice to meet you, Hannibal, and I hope to see you at the next show. That reminds me," she glanced to the dainty bracelet watch at her wrist. "I've got an appointment that I must get too."

Hannibal nodded to her. "It was very nice to meet you too, Ms. Gray."

She smiled warmly, nodded, and then turned away, heading toward the direction of a nearby hallway. He watched her leave. A few people spoke to her as she passed and she greeted them all the same way, smiling, and offering them a brief embrace or a handshake.

Hannibal tilted his head back as he drank the last sip of his wine. Before moving to the other side of the gallery, he placed his empty glass on a tray that held other used glasses. Now he was curious of what the polite and attractive blonde had placed in the gallery. As he drifted through the crowd, making his way to the art pieces that were for sale, he casually glanced toward the hallway that Lily Gray had disappeared in. She'd caught his interest quickly and then disappeared as fast as she'd appeared. Hannibal smiled slightly at his own thoughts. It had been a while since he had gotten the chance to take a peek into a new person's life. Initial meetings were interesting to him. He enjoyed the first meetings with new patients because he enjoyed seeing people project a picture of themselves only to break down and show their true selves later. With someone like Lily Gray, someone who was not his patient but someone he probably would never see again, he would normally do a little investigating into their lives just to see what they were like. At the moment, viewing her art pieces seemed like the perfect next step. He needed to busy himself with someone else to keep himself out of his own head.

Hannibal stopped by the first few paintings and leaned in to examine them. Most of them were abstract, but he didn't look at them for long before he examined the plastic name plaques to determine who had made them. He searched for his new acquaintance's projects, excusing himself as he moved through the people who were also studying the new pieces. He didn't recognize any of the names of the people who hoped to sell their pieces, and it took several minutes for him to find what he was looking for. He eventually stopped in front of a name plaque that read:

"Snow"

Lily Gray