Jack Crawford leant over the body of the man with flowers in his chest, cringing but a little. They had found him in a parking lot literally attached to a tree, or better yet, he had become the tree. The roots had been grown and snipped and pinched here and there so as to ensure that they grew through the victim's skin.

In some dark, twisted, secret part of Jack's head – the part that had an eye for detail, he had to admit that this was gloriously done.

Price and Zeller had done a background check and this man was well known for being a crude little shit - for lack of a better word.

"Ok, so…what about the plants?"

"All of them are poisonous – the most poisonous is the heart," Price pointed with his blue, gloved hand at the array of little, yellow rays of sunshine.

"Fitting," Jack uttered dryly, even more so because they were the most beautiful flowers he had ever seen. His mind flickered to Bella and back in a heartbeat.

"Quite," Price continued, "But the problem is…where'd the parts go?"

"You never found them?" Jack looked disbelievingly over at the two forensics; they looked lost; standing side by side, arms hanging limply at their sides,

"No," was all Zeller said as he shrugged.

"Damn. Well keep at it. Tell me if you find anything,"

And he departed, striding out with purpose, leaving Brian and Jimmy to shuffle around to continue doing whatever it was they were doing.

Jack continued down the corridor towards the exit. He didn't realise where he was going until he landed up outside the Baltimore State Prison thirty minutes later. Marching in, he was greeted by Chilton who appeared to have anticipated his arrival and awaited him at the door to his office while leaning on his cane, a strong resemblance to a candy-character he once read about in a book.

Jack didn't even wait to be invited in, didn't even bother with a greeting. Instead, upon approaching Chilton, he let the words,

"You look like Willy Wonka," casually slip out of his stern mouth. Chilton's eyes drifted to the ceiling as he proceeded to close the door behind them both.

"What can I do for you, Jack?" he asked promptly after,

"It's not what you can do; it's what Will Graham can do,"

"But you need my permission to see him or otherwise you wouldn't be here now would you? Ergo, what is it I can do for you? I can give you the permission you need to see one of MY patience,"

Jack looked blankly at him, his hands on his hips so as to have the back of his blazer slightly elevated. The strong urge to tell Chilton to 'shut up' was almost too overpowering. Instead he cocked his head and thinned his lips,

"He is not stable," was Chilton's response, "Therefor to see him is ill-advised,"

"I really don't care,"

"Very well!"

He put a sassy finger on the buzzer and ordered a security guard up to his office. Once the guard had arrived, Chilton explained the situation to him and sent both men on their way, slowly shutting the door behind them, ominously peering through the last crack before it closed with a click.

Jack was in a mood though, not one to be preceded by a security guard who kept blabbering on about the rules and regulations with regards to communicating with a patient either. He strode straight past him to where Will was seated in his cage, his head down as if in prayer.

He looked up slowly when Jack stopped outside,

"Hello Jack," Will smiled solemnly.

"Hello Will,"

"It's good to see you,"

Jack only nodded.

"What is it?"

"A guy in a tree,"

"Interesting,"

"The roots were sowed into him as if he was the tree. His organs were taken out and replaced by poisonous flowers. We never found the organs,"

"Was he rude?"

"Yes and yes, whatever it is you're about to say, I'm pretty sure you and I are thinking the same,"

"He ate them,"

Jack paused for that was definitely not what he was thinking, frowning at Will as he weighed the options. He knew what was coming; it had come up every day since the incarceration.

"We've checked everything on him; Hannibal Lecter is NOT the serial killer,"

"I never said he was,"

"You did, over and over you did,"

"I meant today, Jack,"

"Yeah, well I mean all the time. Our evidence has not changed and it will not change,"

"Do you know why he eats them?"

Jack went silent. Will was calm, collected, detached. Something in him had changed – a notable change,

"I do,"

"Why does he eat them, Will?" Jack found himself standing directly in front of this new Will Graham, hands in his pockets – his FBI training coming into play as he tried to define the caged man.

"Because they're rude. There's no pattern! You'll never find one because there is none, Jack. He has standards, that's the downfall and when someone comes in breach of those standards…well,"

Will let the unsaid hang heavy in the air, his gaze holding steady on Jack's as he gauged his reaction.

"Hannibal," was all Jack replied with; blunt, angry.

"Do you know anyone with higher standards than he?"

Jack abruptly decided he had enough and abandoned the conversation as well as his attempts to make sense of Will and started back towards the exit,

"I don't know why I try with you anymore, William,"

"Jack!" Will called after him, just as he got to the exit, "Try someone else. All of you are too involved,"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that perhaps you're not seeing clearly because you're all too close to each other…you never want to see the bad side of a friend," Will gazed knowingly at Jack, "Do you?"

"No," Jack replied softly, "You're right. Been there, done that,"

And he was gone, leaving Will to his cage. However, the inkling Will's words left in him was hard to ignore, his gaze more so – a slight sway towards the notion that perhaps that was true. They were too close and they needed someone who was not connected to any of them in anyway so as not to start with a vital clue, being missed.

On his way back to the lab and rounding a corner, he almost walked straight into Alana Bloom. She jumped a little at his sudden appearance, her head dropping in a frazzled attempt to stay the fright,

"Jesus, Jack," she looked up at him and smiled that bright smile of hers, not as bright as it once was though. Jack couldn't blame her. He was just as worn out as she – hell, death had followed him home.

"Alana,"

"Just the man I was hoping to see," her smile dropped ever so slightly as the look on Jack's face registered, "Are you alright?"

He nodded slowly, indecision. Alana looked at him sceptically before continuing,

"Jimmy and Brian can't leave the lab but they asked me to give you the heads-up if I saw you on my way out,"

"Thanks. Where are you going?"

"Got a patient," she started on her way but the words of Will Graham got the best of him and he stopped her,

"Wait a second, do you know of anyone who would be a good help – preferably someone neither of us knows too well?"

"What, in terms of doctoring or…"

"Psychiatry," He didn't know why he chose that, maybe because there was so much going on that revolved around psychiatrics that he had it in his head that if Hannibal Lecter was their guy, they'd need one to catch him.

"Uhm, I could have a dig but why?"

"I think we're all a little too close to this case,"

Alana was on it, though, she didn't miss a thing,

"By 'this case', you mean Hannibal," her brightness was gone. She was quickly no more sunshine than she was a brewing storm, "Has Will Graham got the best of you?"

"Just do this, please, Doctor Bloom,"

Jack was so tired of fighting with this woman. She was too fiery for his taste and sometimes he couldn't even shout back, instead he could only exhale audibly and lull his head to one side in submission.

"He's unstable; you can't take the word of a battle worn mind, Jack!"

"I wouldn't if he were asking me to take down Lecter without investigating it which he has been doing a lot of lately and I have yet to listen to it. This, though, this can't hurt. He's right, we're practically a family; if we need to investigate someone close to us, then we'll do it properly,"

"You're still treating Hannibal like a suspect!"

"Everyone's a God Damn suspect! Now do it," and he left her too, her in her huff. Her head flying to the sky in an effort to not scream after him, hands heavy on her hips. As he opened the door to the building in which his office was hid, he also heard the stomps of Alana's heels on the concrete as she departed too. He exhaled again, so tired was he.

He winded his way through the halls of the behavioural science unit until he walked into the lab that was Jimmy and Brian's place of dwelling.

"Well, you look like hell," Jimmy rounded the table to draw Jack's attention to the little computer screen to his left. It conveyed the picture of a map with five little dots around it. Jack was confused but opted to wait for an explanation because since when had he not gotten one?

"Here we have the places that these sorts of flowers are found,"

Jack looked at it blankly and blinked once,

"That's the whole country,"

"Actually no, it's two thirds, the point being – we, like you, also thought that that was maddeningly unhelpful so then we checked the soil type,"

Jimmy clicked on the screen again and Jack watched as the screen morphed and came to focus on only a small part to show only two places within the Baltimore State, maybe a few kilometres out.

"These places are farm land,"

"You think the Ripper is a farmer?" Jack raised an eyebrow at Zeller who was standing just behind Price with pursed lips and hunched shoulders choosing to let Price do the talking,

"No," he clicked out of the setting and rose to look at Jack, "I do think though, that he could be hiding something important on one of these farms,"

Jack looked at Price, impressed, and then at Zeller whose face lit up like a glow-worm.

"Good work!"

OoOoOoO

Time was a mess but eventually the team found themselves on their way to one of the two farms pinpointed by Jimmy's ingenious computer. Alas, nothing was there. They searched it, top to toe and yet there was nothing; so Jack insisted they pack up and head on over to the next farm, a good three hour drive away.

What they found there was enough to send Jack running for the hills to escape this new life, life after Will Graham.

Beverly Katz had been found dead not too long ago, drained, sliced and put on display. Now here were jars of blood – litres of it, and all sorts of medical equipment set up for such a job as putting one of his best guys on show. He could only guess that this was her blood. He wanted to gather it up in his coat and put it in the back of his car and drive it to some place pretty and far away and give it to the earth, his last act of friendship towards her, his last act of family. But he knew that couldn't be done and he was perfectly aware that this may well not be Beverly Katz blood but in a strange, haunting moment, he found himself hoping it was. They'd have everything that was hers and she'd be whole again.

"Jack, there's a well here with a lid."

Jack turned away from his thoughts and made his way to where Brian and Jimmy were staring at a small crack between the well and its lid, left slightly askew. Both men seemed hesitant to do anything about looking inside so Jack took it upon himself – whatever was about to be seen inside, he was pretty sure he'd seen worse.

He hadn't.

"Miriam…" said he as his torch fell on the ghostly, pale form that was Miriam Lass; one arm less, dishevelled and dirty, her eyes wild with fear. Jack stumbled back past Price and Zeller, who were both gaping down the whole at the said same sight,

"Get a rope! Get a ladder! Now, move!" Jack was yelling hysterically. 7 years of wondering about how and why and now here she was, "Get a doctor!"

Before Jack could even say bob's your uncle, they were on the move, just Miriam and he, dashing for the hospital. He kept glancing over at her but her gaze was dead set on the road ahead. Sometimes she'd glance back behind her fearfully but then she'd settle back on the road. He kept repeating the words,

"You'll be fine. We've got you now. You're safe,"

But this was more for his benefit than hers.

And he realised that when she softly said,

"The amount of times I've heard that,"

Jack went silent after that and after about an hour, Miriam had fallen asleep, her head resting on the window. He took the opportunity and whipped out his phone and pulled over, leaving the engine running,

"Doctor Bloom, we found Miriam Lass, I'm going to need you to be at the hospital when I get there."

Alana mumbled something on the phone but Jack didn't really care, instead he started moving again and once he had registered that she wasn't talking anymore, he hung up.

They reached the hospital about an hour and a half later. It was over quickly, getting Miriam out and safe, the paper work, the this' and that's of what goes on in hospitals. Once all was done, he slumped on a chair in the waiting room and closed his eyes for a minute. Only a minute, thinking about Bella and her hospital bed. Her endless beauty that he fell in love with so long ago and now couldn't imagine a life without.

"Jack?"

He was reluctant to open his eyes to the sound of a soft voice calling his name or the gentle squeeze of his shoulder, but he did. Alana Bloom was sitting beside him with a small, comforting smile on her face. Clearly their little strife was over,

"Alana," Jack rubbed his eyes, "Thanks for coming,"

"You found Miriam," her squeeze grew tighter, as if she were proud, "So I found our doctor for you,"

He looked at her through narrowed eyes, they were sensitive to the light now – exhaustion taking its toll. She gestured to a woman sitting opposite him. She looked calm and poised her features soft and warm as she gazed at him through bright eyes. Her hair falling over her shoulders in waves; legs crossed in black trousers, a white collared linen shirt with a black blouse to accompany it. Her shoes however, didn't quite fit. All Stars if he knew his fashion – he guessed it was as a result of getting ready in a hurry. It was quite late after all.

"Jack, this is Doctor Guido Artz. I found her through my old school, she's a university lecturer but she knows her stuff,"

"A university lecturer?"

"Correct," Artz nodded, "I studied psychiatrics and did my time with patience but I always found myself getting too attached. So when once or twice my therapy failed, I couldn't handle it so I chose to teach instead,"

Jack nodded, considering her with curiosity. She seemed nice enough, an unusual name but he sensed something there – something he could only describe as a fiery undertow. He regained his manners on that thought and stood abruptly,

"Excuse my manners, Doctor, it's been a very long day and…well," he looked around at the hospital; quiet.

"I'm Special Agent Jack Crawford, head of the Behavioural Science Unit,"

"No need to stand, Agent Crawford, I can see how tired you are. Please, sit,"

And he did, all too willingly but it didn't stop him from stretching out to shake her hand. It was a strong, solid shake; a fiery undertow to be sure.

Alana looked pleased with herself as she regarded both of them, Jack seemingly the most vulnerable she had ever seen him look and Guido Artz, emphatically in her element as she regarded Jack.

"I'm sorry, Alana, I wanted you out here so that you could speak to Miriam but it doesn't seem like that's going to happen,"

"Don't worry about that," she glanced over at Artz who was still gazing at Jack softly, "It's late, go home to Bella, Jack. I'll stay here and greet her in the morning when she wakes up,"

Jack met Alana's gaze for reassurance,

"What about Doctor Artz, here," he turned his gaze to Artz across from him, "I'm sorry I drew you out here second hand,"

But she shook her head, smiled and raised her feet all in good humour,

"I've got my All Stars,"

Jack had to smile. So his sense of fashion was still up to scratch. He was interested in this new doctor Alana had found. She held herself with grace and elegance (despite the All Stars) but it was her eyes that were every now and then, both, disconcerting and hugely comforting, a sense that she was one of those people that would always appear to know more than they let on but would never admit to it. One of those people that was always sure they knew what they were doing – what you were doing even you weren't.

Perhaps it was a good thing; perhaps it was the worst idea in the long, sad history of bad ideas for what would happen if the person he gauged her to be were to come into contact with someone like the ripper? It would be fire.

On a not so different note, she reminded him of Doctor Lecter.