Disclaimer: I don't own Hannibal, The Vampire Diaries, or The Originals, but the plot bunny was too good to ignore. Rather AU for all series.

Some songs in the playlist:

Paradise Circus, Massive Attack

A Little Death, The Neighbourhood

Carmen, Lana del Rey

The Devil Within, Digital Daggers

Us Against the World, Coldplay

Swept Away, xx

Bedroomn Hymns, Florence + the Machine

My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark, Fall Out Boy

Pure Morning, Placebo

The Most Dangerous Game

Chapter One

Underneath the skin there's a human
Buried deep within there's a human
And despite everything I'm still human…
-from the song Human by DaughterNovember, 2014.

He'd been one of the only men she allowed to call her Katerina.

She'd been one of the only creatures he had met who thrilled in the art of murder as much as he did. She didn't go out of her way to make her killings as grand and sublime as he did his, but she somehow understood it.

When she'd been with him she hadn't felt so empty inside and the sharp edges within her softened. She was still certain it was because of him, how he had seen her, dull and tarnished inside, and he had polished and buffed her until she had gleamed like silver, like starlight.

But there'd been the problem. There always was a problem with Katherine Pierce and her men.

She'd begun to go tired of him, of his extremes. She killed for sustenance, though like a cat she did enjoy playing with her food; he killed because it was like a hobby to him. And it wasn't like she didn't enjoy the whole thrill of the hunt, because she did. But Hannibal Lecter took the hunt and the enjoyment of it to a whole new level.

He was getting sloppy. He was going to get caught, eventually. And Katherine wouldn't be there when it happened.

So she'd left.

She had made offers, tantalized him with the prospect of an immortal life with her, a way out of all of this. They could somehow come up with a way to kill him, and with her blood in his system, he could be reborn as something new and have eternity with her before him, and he'd be able to kill as much as he wanted without the fear of being caught.

But Hannibal Lecter had never been one to run when things got too hot. He would rather weather the storm and wait it out, and then, when they least expected it, he would begin again.

She'd always supposed he'd had a death wish, somewhere deep inside him, in the dark recesses of his heart. Or a wish to be caught, to be somehow lauded in the media for the masterpieces of murder that he had conceived within that brilliant mind of his and brought to disturbing reality with his own two hands.

It was kind of cute, actually.

Of course, when he was caught, it made the news. And all of the familiar names and faces—Alana Bloom, Jack Crawford, and Will Graham—Will Graham, the big source of Hannibal's amusement, the patsy, the man who could think like killers and who became a killer himself—was exonerated and became instrumental in the capture of the Chesapeake Ripper.

There was mention of the two young women who were missing and presumed dead. A part of each of them had been found, an arm from one and an ear from the other, but the FBI was still stumped as to the whereabouts of their bodies.

She wondered what Will Graham and Alana Bloom and everyone else had told the FBI about her.

And then the name she had used came up.

She jumped when she first heard the CNN reporter say it, and she regained her equilibrium and turned up the television, and the words echoed throughout her mind: Missing. Suspected murdered by Hannibal Lecter. Suspected to have been his lover who may have known more than what was good for her.

Well, she was living there. And then she left.

That was all Katherine had done: leave, leave without looking back.

And it had made her part of a news story that made national headlines.

She didn't know who she ought to call. Damon? Stefan? No, they were all too wrapped up with whiny, sniveling Elena, who sniveled even more now that she was a vampire. And she had done too much to them anyhow, the bad outweighing the good. She knew that Damon would laugh at her and tell her that since she had made the mess, she needed to clean it up herself. And wish her good luck, because she would need it. Stefan would be more serious about it, but would more or less tell her the same thing, with Elena glaring at her behind him. "Haven't you done enough to us?" Elena would demand.

She'd done enough to them, yes, and she was done with them, the whole lot of them: Caroline, Jeremy, Matt, Bonnie, even her own daughter Nadia. They made her tired, made her body and soul heavy even though she was a vampire and shouldn't feel that way.

There was always Elijah. But then with Elijah would come Klaus and Rebekah, who would no doubt both be ready to skewer her for doing what she had done to Elijah.

But she didn't have to swallow her pride.

Elijah Mikaelson sent her a cordial text.

Come to New Orleans. It seems we have much to discuss.

The Original Family had been alerted of her involvement in the case of the Copycat Killer when a photograph of her and Hannibal Lecter attending an opera gala surfaced on Tattlecrime in an article covering Will Graham's abduction of the good doctor.

"It looks like curiosity got the better of our little kitty cat at one point," Klaus said laughingly, placing his IPad on the table in front of her and pouring her another glass of whiskey on the rocks, which she took gratefully and downed in one swallow. "So after our Davina reversed the Cure and turned you back into your lovely vampire self, you flitted off to Baltimore. Close enough to Mystic Falls, but far enough away for you to start over again. Why?"

"Maybe because I liked the weather," Katherine offered pettishly, picking up the IPad and studying the photograph of herself and Hannibal Lecter again. One thing could be said for Hannibal: He pulled off a tux better than the Salvatore brothers or any Original vampire. "You know, it's pretty close to the climate in Virginia," she went on. "And the cuisine there is to kill for."

"As your toff can attest." Klaus wandered to the window and stared out at the expansive grounds of his plantation home.

"He's not so bad-looking, as humans go. He's certainly older than I'd like, but sometimes, Katherine, you have good taste in men." The smell of expensive perfume filled Katherine's nostrils as Rebekah Mikaelson bent down to take a look at the photograph.

"Her taste is the same as yours, little sister. Quite terrible," Klaus jibed.

Rebekah inclined her head. "Really, brother? This is coming from you? Let's not start on your taste in women…"

Rebekah trailed off at the sight of her other brother, Elijah, entering the room. Katherine turned in her seat to look at him. He regarded her with the same cold reserve that he had regarded Stefan and Damon a few years ago. So he felt nothing for her now. Nothing.

"Well, Katerina." His modulated voice and his even tone indicated his lack of surprise at her taking up his offer. "So we need to help you clean up a mess yet again. You've made national news, which isn't good for you, even if it was inadvertent."

"I know it's not good for me," she shot back, pushing back the chair and springing up. "There are still people out there who want me dead, Elijah. Now the FBI is looking for me, and you know where this will lead them? Straight to Mystic Falls, straight to Elena Gilbert, and then guess what? The entire world is going to find out about vampires—and that means you. Do you want that?"

Elijah's dark eyes shifted to meet his brother's stare. Klaus grinned, refilling Katherine's glass of whiskey. "Well, brother, you're the one who crusades for the greater good. I'm going to leave this to you."

"I will still need your assistance, Niklaus—and yours as well, Rebekah," Elijah told them. Rebekah, who had started to leave the room, heaved a weary sigh and whirled to face them.

"Assistance? You need our help to bail out the Petrova doppelganger who keeps getting herself into trouble?" She threw up her hands and shook her head. "Not this time, Elijah. You're on your own."

"You forget that your safety hangs in the balance, as does mine, as does our niece's," Elijah reminded her. "If we're to clean up this mess and keep the FBI from discovering us and other supernaturals, we need to work together. I'd prefer to keep our friends in Mystic Falls out of this; we have enough people here who can help pull this off."

"Enough people here?" Klaus echoed. "Are you saying that we go to Marcel for help?"

"Who else?" Elijah riposted, a smile playing on his lips. "I'm sure Rebekah can use her influence if he proves difficult. But then, the threat of discovery…"

"What are you planning?" Katherine demanded suspiciously.

"We're going to help you, Katerina," Elijah replied softly. "As for the man in question, it appears he's as guilty as sin. But it might help him if we can get this little matter of Katherine Peters cleared up for the FBI. Whether or not you wish to maintain contact with your beloved serial-killing toff is entirely your decision."

"He's not a toff," Katherine argued. "He's brilliant…he really is. The things he creates…"

"The things he creates are monstrosities," Rebekah interrupted. "We saw the crime scene photos. We know. It's too bad you didn't turn him sooner and bring him to New Orleans, Katherine. Marcel and Klaus could have used him." Folding her arms across her chest, Rebekah regarded Katherine suspiciously. "Or you could have compelled him to come with you. Why didn't you compel him?"

That secret—one of the great secrets of Hannibal Lecter. "I couldn't compel him," Katherine said. "Don't think I didn't try my damnedest, because I did. It's something in his blood, something to do with his family. He didn't say exactly what…"

"It doesn't mean we can't find out," Elijah said, approaching her. "You must return to Baltimore, Katherine, and you must make contact with the FBI."

"Jack Crawford will want a plausible story," Katherine told Elijah. "They think Hannibal killed me because I knew too much. It's going to look shady if I just show up in town after a year and call him up to say, 'Hi! I left in a hurry, Hannibal Lecter didn't kill me. So what do you want to know?'"

"Marcel will be able to supply us with the name of an attorney in his employ. In the meantime, you must tell us everything you know, so that we can concoct a plausible story. When we have done that, you will return to Baltimore."

"And what about family? Jack Crawford will want to know if I have any family," Katherine pointed out, biting her lip. "And I can't exactly bring up Nadia, now, can I?"

Klaus smiled enigmatically. "As of right now, Katerina, we're your family. And we always protect our family."

Marcel Gerard was able to get her in touch with a lawyer in his employ in Baltimore, who in turn contacted the FBI and Jack Crawford about Katherine's impending arrival and desire to speak with them. Elijah arranged for a hotel room for her and for blood bags to be brought in for her sustenance. "It would be best if you weren't out hunting, given the circumstances," Elijah told her gravely.

"So what am I supposed to do—stay holed up in my hotel room the entire time?" Katherine demanded as she packed the new clothes that she had purchased on a shopping trip with Rebekah earlier that day.

"You may do that, or else you might seek out the help of the woman psychiatrist, Dr. Alana Bloom. Perhaps she could help you to deal with the issues that have been eating away at you for centuries," Elijah suggested, smiling as he put away his Smartphone.

"That was a cheap shot!" Katherine spat out.

"No, Katerina, it was the truth. Your relationship with Hannibal Lecter—whatever it was—certainly did not involve him being your psychiatrist."

Katherine opened her mouth to say something cutting, then snapped it shut with a click of her teeth. Let Elijah have his fun for now. Once this was all over, she was going to go back to Europe and get away from all of this. And run like she had spent so much of her life doing.

"Katherine Peters." Jack Crawford regarded the petite brunette with the professional detachment he often used with material witnesses whom he suspected of being more than what they seemed. "It's been a long time since we've seen each other."

The young woman's pink-glossed lips curved into a slight smile. "Yeah, it has been a long time…since I left Baltimore."

"A little over a year." Jack handed her the manila folder that had contained the paperwork on her disappearance. "Dr. Bloom was very concerned about you, Katherine, since you left a few months after the murder of Abigail Hobbs. You just up and walked away without a word, without a good-bye. You scared a lot of people."

Katherine inclined her head, her dark curls grazing her cheek. She smoothed out the black skirt of her dress and very slowly reached for the manila folder. Jack noticed that her hands were well-manicured, her fingernails shaped into dainty ovals and painted a pale pink. Hannibal Lecter's influence, no doubt, along with the choice of a black dress and cream-colored shrug. And always, she wore the ring, one of lapis lazuli in an art deco design, set in platinum.

"It was a nasty breakup," she said. "I just wanted to get out of town."

"Without telling your friends, not even Dr. Bloom?" Jack Crawford prodded.

"I probably should have told her. I ended up going to New Orleans—I have family there. I laid low for a year." She licked her lips. "I didn't want to see Hannibal again. I didn't want him to try and find me. Dr. Bloom would have eventually told him where I was."

"Were you scared of him?"

"No. I just didn't want to be with him anymore." Katherine rolled her eyes. "He was getting all serious, talking about marriage, kids, all that stuff. Stuff I wasn't ready for. We argued, I broke it off with him, and I packed up and left."

"Katherine, did you know about what Hannibal Lecter had done and what he had been doing under your nose, under my nose, under Alana Bloom's nose, even under Will Graham's nose? Did you know about how he set up Will Graham to take the fall for murders he had committed?"

She licked her lips, shaking her head. "No. I didn't know about any of it. He had me as fooled as the rest of you were."

Jack smiled at her wanly. "Well, it's good you got out, then, while the getting was good, huh?"

"It would seem like it." She fiddled with the hem of her shrug. "Jack?"

"Katherine."

Her black eyes flicked down to the open manila folder, and she bit her lip and lifted her face to look up at him. "This is probably an awful question, but can I see him? I want to see him, just to make sure he's okay."

"Who do you want to see, Katherine?" Susan Ledbetter's voice was gentle as she took Katherine's hand. "Will Graham?"

"No, I want to see Hannibal. Is that possible, Jack?" Her dark eyes widened, and Jack could remember her, the laughing, talkative little thing at Hannibal's table and how Hannibal looked at her as though she were the brightest star in he sky, and how she'd looked at him like there was no one else in the world.

"I'll see if I can make that happen," he assured her. "But I'm warning you right now, I can't make any promises. Dr. Frederick Chilton is very particular about whom he lets in to see Lecter. Maybe I can get you in with Alana or Will. I'll even accompany you if he gets to be too much of an asshole about it."

"If you could, that'd be great. But I'd understand if you didn't," Katherine said quickly, and he thought he saw tears shimmer in her eyes as her voice quavered a bit. "Thanks, Jack."

"Thank you for your time, Katherine," Jack replied as he watched her and her lawyer get up to leave. "Katherine," he said, a twinge of curiosity suddenly hitting him.

She turned to look at him. "Yes?"

"Were you in love with him, Katherine? Are you still in love with him?"

She pressed her knuckles to her lips, as though she were considering his question. "Both," she said at length. "I was in love with him. I am in love with him. But I just want things to be right. The law needs to do what the law needs to do."

And after she left, Jack Crawford felt the coldness of unease in his stomach.

Katherine most likely knew more than she was letting on, he didn't doubt that. But still, she could be useful in their investigation. There were still the whereabouts of the bodies of Miriam Lass and Abigail Hobbs that had yet to be discovered, along with what he was sure were at least a hundred other victims. And there were still questions surrounding the slayings of Franklyn Froideveaux and Tobias Budge that had yet to be answered. Katherine Peters could be the key to all of this.

And he knew just the person who could help him to get her to open up.