The air smelled of metal and whatever half-prepared delicacy Hannibal had left on the stove. Four bodies, four pools of sticky crimson blood. Everything empty and so solemnly silent, the flamboyant house was now a reverent tomb to the four sacrifices that lay dying in its four walls.

Hubris.

He could barely breathe now, pawing at the ground in a blind search for Abigail's hand. The ground was slick with their blood and his breath came in shallow pants. Tears fell freely from his eyes as he watched Abigail writhe like a fish out of water.

So wrong, so fucking wrong, chanted his head as his vision dimmed. He'd been so careful, so damn right in planning everything––Freddie's murder, Reid's death. But none of that mattered now. They were all here in the same fucking place, burning, pining as a sacrifice to the god of chaos.

Will heaved, a spurt of blood spilling from the gash in his stomach. Hate burned his chest like hot coals––hate for the man that'd murdered his daughter, stripped him bare and left him an ugly raw nerve. The man that prowled his thoughts and drew him in. The man that'd gotten under his skin.

DuMaurier was right––he'd gotten careless, gotten too eager. And now, every drop of wasted effort, ever pregnant moment they'd spent together swirled in his head and made him drunk with bitterness.

His head crashed against the darkness, fighting the endless silence. After all he'd done, how hard he'd tried, he deserved more His body rebelled against his mind, slipping into the inviting abyss.

A weak smile stretched his face as he drew his last shuddering breath. He had seduced god.

Folly.

She lie on the concrete, limbs spread like some sort of fallen angel. Glass shards pierced her at odd angles and twisted when she moved. Tears fell from Alanna's face as she stared at the black, unforgiving sky that rained on her.

Will was right, she thought, gasping as bolts of pain shot through her body. She'd ignored the signs, acted dumb, praying that Hannibal was a realized crush, a favorite physical distraction.

"Be blind, Alana." But she already was. A pang of nausea ripped through her as she realized all those times she'd been blind to him, eyes closed as he kissed and thrust his way past her doubts. The times she'd eagerly lied with Lucifer in a hotbed of passion so carnal it nearly tore her in two.

So blind... She closed her eyes––it didn't hurt nearly as much now. There was the faint sounds of sirens in the distance, but all she wanted to do was sleep. She could feel his hands all over her, lying with every touch, singing her a bloodstained lullaby.

"Be blind, Alana..." She went limp, the rain washing her bloody skin clean.

Intellect.

"Jack?" It was Bella's voice, and oh how badly wanted to answer her. The air around him was thin, and he could feel his voice ebb out from the gash in his neck.

"Bella," he mouthed desperately, unable to make a sound. Fear thudded in his chest, drumming his ears with the weak beating of his heart. He hadn't truly expected to make it out of this, only prayed that he'd have enough strength to tell her goodbye.

Being quiet was terrifying. There was usually strength in his silence, some sort of observation bubbling beneath the veneer. Now, it was pure fear as his wife's ghostly voice crackled on the receiver. Fear of not seeing her again, of not having an anchor to carry him to the other side. Beyond all the corpses and sick fucks he had to deal with, Bella had been his guide.

Shamed as he was to admit it, Jack Crawford was not afraid to die––he was afraid of getting there before her. He wheezed, eyes wide as the last few spurts of blood spilled from his neck. Gathering the last of his strength, he tried to speak.

"BELLA I––"

The line went dead, and his body succumbed, left to sail the River Styx alone.

Love.

He was sorry, thought Abigail, glazed eyes staring as sticky blood poured and pooled on her skin. She was a ball of emotion,but none stuck out more than the love she'd had for Hannibal. He was her father––she'd trusted him, and this is what he did to her. She felt Will's hand grab for hers, and she balled her fingers in his.

He loved her. Will was right here, bleeding with her, crying with her. She couldn't see him, but his hand was enough. She'd found him now and they were together and they'd never be––

The light in Abigail's eyes went out.