Chapter Two

Hannibal invited me to dinner a week later. I was delighted for the invite, despite my mixed feelings about the man. The Crawfords were expected, but Hannibal told me upon arrival that they could not make it. I was not surprised. Jack Crawford's wife Bella was fatally ill with cancer. It was a shame for them, but I did relish the opportunity to have Hannibal to myself for the evening.

My forced vegetarianism needled at me whenever I ate Hannibal's cooking. He served cuisine celebrity chefs would be envious of, truly artisan meals, and was at his best when preparing fine meats. Hunger gnawed at me, and even his deliciously dressed salads could not sate it. Quite honestly, the kiss we had shared weeks ago had been my last taste of animal flesh.

"Damn Abel Gideon," I sighed, setting my fork down with a clatter. "No offense, but I miss your real cooking. Delicious as the salad was, it simply isn't the same."

Hannibal had humored me by sharing the vegetarian dish. "I am not offended. In fact, I tend to agree with you. Healthy as they are, greens seem to lack a vital nourishment, a primal blood lust inherent in any carnivore."

I puzzled over the unexpected brutality in Hannibal's words, but I agreed with him. We were finished with the meager meal, and he collected the plates. I admit to being in a rather self-pitying mood that night.

"I can't understand why a man would do something so vulgar to another," I said. "What would drive him to violate me so drastically?"

"Oh, I don't know," Hannibal said casually. He scooped up my plate and stacked it upon the others rested on his arm. "Did you ever, say, freeze him in a shower?"

Cold shock swept over me, and I was rendered speechless. I looked towards Hannibal, but his back was to me. He left the room with the dishes, the door swinging shut behind him.

He knew. Will must have told him, in some conversation I had not listened in on. My first instinct was to dash from the dining room and make a run for my car. Ludicrous! Whatever Hannibal's objections to my treatment of his supposed friend, he was a rational, sane man. There was no reason to flee from him as if he were some kind of animal.

Hannibal returned. I may have attempted some sort of explanation, but I could never remember what it was. All I recall is his hands laying upon my shoulders, pulling me to my feet. I must have fought against him, but my efforts were feeble as a child's. Hannibal was strong, more so than I ever imagined. I may as well have weighed ten pounds, for all the effect my fight had on him.

We went up the stairs to the second floor of the house. I had never been up here, but I barely saw any of it. It was dark, and Hannibal did not bother with lights. He elbowed open a door, and I was dragged into a bathroom. I had enough insight to see what he intended, though a part of me refused to believe it.

I was thrown into the shower with a thrust of force, and hit the tiled wall hard. I had just managed to turn around when the water hit me. It was ice cold, and shot through my clothing in seconds. My head prickled with needles of cold, and my lungs contracted in a gasp of shock.

I ran from the assault, but Hannibal blocked the way out of the shower. He caught me and shoved me back beneath the hammering cold. Was there amusement in his eyes? My hair ran into my eyes, and I wiped it back impatiently. The weight of my clothing was suppressing, but it held the cold slightly away from my skin. I felt the skin shrinking from my body, tight and clammy. Almost as cold as his eyes.

"Wha-wha-what are you d-doing?" I managed to ask through chattering teeth. I was shaking now, and pondered the unnatural control Will had maintained. "Yuh-yo-you can't do this!"

"Can't I?"

His hands were upon me, but I felt nothing but a numb chill. He was stripping off my clothing, exposing my skin to the relentless assault of cold water. I batted at him, but even in my state, I realized the futility of the struggle. The cold overcame me, and I was unable to move for a minute. Within this time, Hannibal removed my jacket, shirt, belt, and tie. I had already stepped out of the stiff coldness of soaked shoes. The fluid chill trickled down my bare chest, chilled my neck, and I shook violently.

Desperate, I flailed out wildly. My hands caught a grip on Hannibal's hair, and I pulled. The eroticism we had shared before was entirely absent. I yanked viciously, and found his eyes with my hands. All I could think was to gouge them, to get away somehow. I heard Hannibal grunt and the sound gave me hope.

Hannibal pushed off my hands, and unfastened my slacks. I was fighting him in earnest now. He took my arms by the wrists, turned me to face the shower wall, and pinned my arms to the small of my back. He hooked one arm around both my arms and held them there together. It should have been a tenuous hold, but I could not break it. My slacks fell in the struggle. Had I any blood flowing uninhibited, I might have blushed.

"You're a ha-ha-hypocrite!" I snapped at him. "Yuh-you would do a-a-anything to a-anyone but your pr-precious W-Wuh-Will Graham!"

Hannibal was drenched from the cold shower, but he seemed unaffected by it. "Will is my friend. I entrusted him to you, and you humiliated and mistreated him."

"He's my p-patient! You have no right to p-pry into wh-wuh-what I d-do to him!"

Hannibal snorted. He was amused, the bastard!

"You are feisty," he remarked. "Aren't you?"

I should have known better. I think that I did know better, but I was too aggravated to stop myself. I twisted and kicked back at his shin. Breaking his hold just slightly, I grabbed for whatever object I could find. There was a large wooden bath brush hung just outside the shower. I took a hold on it, and swung it at Hannibal. He blocked the blow with his arm, but there was a loud crack of wood hitting bone. The fury that lit his eyes gave me pause, and I faltered. It was the only hesitation that he needed.

Hannibal pulled the brush from my hand, taking a grip on its handle himself. I thought he might brain me with it right there, but his eyes cooled to their usual dispassion. He turned the water off, not taking his eyes off of me. I flattened my back against the shower wall.

"You've made your point," I said, though my voice was shaky. With as much dignity as I could muster, soaked and half naked, I tried to reason with the man. "It was wrong to do that to Will. I get it. Now, I'm going to get dressed and leave. We'll talk when you're in a more … sane mood."

I tried to walk past him, but his hand closed on my wrist like an iron vice. It took great effort, but I managed to look up at him. The amusement was back on his face, but the residue of rage glinted in his eyes. My heart sank into my stomach, which was currently impersonating butterflies.

"Let me go," I demanded. "Will is still my patient. I could always decide that your visits aren't conducive to his recovery. I could always keep him out of your reach."

"Are you threatening me, Frederick?" Hannibal asked, sounding bored. He seemed to be considering what to do next. "Do you feel powerful, having Will?"

"I feel in control," I said spitefully. "However much better than me you and Will Graham think you are, the fact remains that you both need me. I'm the only thing keeping you two together. I am in control."

Hannibal smiled. "Oh are you?"

"Yes."

"I admit that you are necessary right now," Hannibal said. Why did he sound so regretful? Even if I wasn't necessary, it wasn't as if he could do away with me. His hand tightened on my wrist, cutting the circulation off. "But you are no more in control than a doe in the scope of a hunter, Frederick."

"Just try me," I seethed. "Try to hurt me, I dare you. You'll see how fast I ban you from Will's life."

"This is a rude, childish game you are playing, Frederick," Hannibal told me. The bath brush hung from a loop of cord on his wrist, freeing his hand to suddenly touch the side of my mouth, as he had before kissing me. "Your eyes are quite blue."

Thrown by the change of subject matter and his touch, my guards went down. In a swift motion, Hannibal swung me around to face the wall, twisting my arm painfully behind my back. This time, there was nothing to reach for, no way of fighting his hold. To my complete dismay, Hannibal finished undressing me, pulling down my boxers. I cringed, expecting the freezing water to hit my skin again.

Something hit me then, and it was not water. There was a ringing crack, and my buttocks were suddenly stung with pain. I was so stunned that it took my until the fourth blow to realize that Hannibal was spanking me with the broad, flat side of the bath brush.

Was discipline not a way of ordering chaos? I asked him this later. Hannibal only smiled at me then, and told me that I was not chaos. I was a minor annoyance, he would say, to be swatted down with as little consequence as smacking a fly.

'Smacking' was an understatement. Hannibal swung the broad, flat side of the bath brush with every ounce of strength he possessed. I was raised being disciplined enough, my father was a strong believer in corporal punishment, but even the most stringent modern parent outside of the abuser refrains from actually beating their children. I had had times in my life where I had been assaulted, but it had been a very long time since anyone had taken me over in this way.

To fight another man is one thing. There is equal opportunity, and though being the lesser opponent stings, it is refreshing to lose a fight knowing one has done his best in the struggle. After reaching a certain age, most people see no violence in their future, considering their station and career. Those that do chase violence seek a level battlefield, or resort to the neatness of gun play. Being taken in hand is a child's fate, not a man's. The mere idea strikes us as a silly erotic fantasy far beyond the possibilities of real life, barring a consensual sex act.

This was neither erotic nor silly. It hurt. It hurt more than I ever would have imagined. Once the shock wore off, I could feel the burn of every whack distinctly. My skin was still tingling from the impromptu cold shower, and the sting began to throb viciously. I was shouting furiously at Hannibal, threatening him, insulting him. He said nothing, which made the entire thing all the worse, only kept the pace of the beating in a steady, unflagging rhythm.

Pleas wavered on my lips, and that was when I choked myself into silence. Angry tears had long since been falling, rolling down my burning face, hot and heavy. It was intolerably painful, but I refused to beg for mercy. I was still a man, somewhere deep down, and I would not beg. I knew it would do nothing but delight Hannibal, anyway.

I had intended to strike back at him, but by the time he released me, I was unable to do anything but stand there. I brought my arm, sore from being held back for so long, around my face, sobbing stupidly into the tiled shower wall. The angry shame still burned, but my buttocks were burning more hotly, and I felt only a deep, dark misery. I could not even turn around to look at the man.

I felt Hannibal's hand squeeze one hot, stinging cheek, and then the other. His cool hands were a comfort, but the gesture was as dispassionate as one examining a slab of meat at the butcher's. I turned to look over my shoulder at him, but he was outside the shower by now. He stooped to pick up my wet clothing.

"I'll put these in the dryer," he said, and was gone.

I could not stifle a laugh, hysterical as it was. Put my clothing in the dryer- God! He sounded as casual as if the entire incident had been nothing more than a mishap at dinner: wine spilled on a shirt, or something equally minor. I laughed until I was crying again. I wanted to collapse, but I didn't dare sit on the hard shower floor.

I took up one of the lush Egyptian cotton towels and wrapped it around myself. It was large, and covered me appropriately. I wiped my face on a corner of it, trying to collect myself. Even the soft fabric irritated my backside, beaten sensitive to every shift of muscle and contact. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and looked away. All I saw was a small, thin man, pathetically sullen.

Morbid curiosity made me lift the towel enough to view my backside. Deep, angry purple circles spread into round-edged red imprints, covering each cheek fully. I gingerly touched the darkening bruises, and the spark of pain made me wince.

Hannibal had returned at some point, and was watching me. He had a smirk playing upon his lips, his hair wet from the water he had reached into and crossing his smooth forehead. He looked more handsome than ever, and I cursed myself for noticing.

"I'll go to Jack Crawford," I threatened, though it sounded weak even to my ears. "I'll tell him what you did to me."

"No, you won't," Hannibal said knowingly. "We keep each other's secrets, remember?"

I had once been happy to have a connection of such significance with Hannibal. Now my own words sounded childishly naïve. I could know every last corner of Hannibal's mind, and we would be no more connected than the ground is to the sky.

It was then that I finally accepted defeat. I would never demean myself to going to anyone, let alone the stalwart Agent Crawford, and showing the evidence of Hannibal's abuse like some red-assed baboon. Nor could I even attempt to hurt Hannibal back. The will to fight him was beyond me at the moment, and I knew it would not be a match I could win. All I could do was stand there glaring at him as if I were a chastened little boy.

I had to do something. It had been many years since I had been so out of control, and I was desperate to regain some power. In a nearly mad turmoil, I rushed to Hannibal, and reached up to take his head by the ears. I brought his face to mine, and kissed him.

For one delicious moment, I had the illusion that I was taking something from him. He was not surprised, and made no move to stop me. The towel fell away, but I didn't notice. All I could feel was his closeness, the hard lines of his body beneath his clothes, the light clamp of his teeth over my tongue.

The delusion of control ended abruptly. Hannibal took me by the shoulders, slammed me into the wall (my backside hitting it painfully), and gave me a devouring kiss. He drank in my misery, my attempt at regaining control, everything, all of me, and his teeth grazed my lips. His mouth moved down to my neck, and he bit me so hard that I thought he would tear out my jugular with his bare teeth. Simultaneous waves of repulsion and need drove me into the blindness of ecstasy.

Hannibal threw me to the floor, all traces of lust gone from him. My face was burning and I was aching with need. He only looked down at me coldly. Panting, I gathered the towel back up around me.

Then, half mad with pain and pleasure, I did beg. "Please-" I looked up at him, and I could feel the supplication written on my face. "Please, please."

"I told you," Hannibal said icily. "You will never have me."

He turned and walked out, as I crumbled into raw, hideous sobs.

I don't know how long I lay curled into myself on the floor. It felt like I had cried the entire night away. Emotionally fatigued, I must have lost consciousness at one point. At another point, Hannibal must have found some semblance of humanity, because he carried me out of the bathroom. I have a dim memory of strong arms wrapping around my towel-shrouded body, carrying me down a hall. Or that may have been nothing more than a dream or a wish.

In any case, I woke up in the guest bedroom. The sheets were warm and soft against my bare skin, smelling of lavender. I told myself that I had had a nightmare. I was home. I was safe.

"Wake up, Frederick. Breakfast will be served soon."

The commanding accented voice startled me into reality. My body had flipped its inner switch from sleep to wakefulness, and the bruises on my bottom sung with pain. I burrowed into the luxurious pillow and comforter, trying to vanish back into the security of sleep. Not having it, Hannibal pulled off my coverings. I glared up at him, but he only gave me a pleasant, damnably dashing smile.

"Don't sulk, Frederick," he said, giving my exposed backside a slap. "You have to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"Yes you are." Hannibal took me by the shoulders and sat me up. "Come. You'll need your strength today."

"My strength escapes me," I said miserably, squirming. "Funny how being spanked like a child can do that."

"You acted like a child by trying to fight your way out of punishment," Hannibal said in the reasonable tone of a parent of a challenged child. He pulled me out of bed and was helping (or forcing) me into a black silk robe. "I only gave you what you had fully earned. Your clothing are in the bathroom."

I did not have the will to argue with him. I dully made my way to the adjacent guest bathroom, and went about my morning routine. My bottom was lit with dark, angry shades of red and purple. Earned or not, the result was humiliatingly succinct. I dressed in a hurry, hoping being dressed decently again would make me feel a little less ludicrous. It did not.

Hannibal had been waiting outside the guest bedroom. He smiled and led me back downstairs, to the kitchen. Breakfast was cooking, and it smelled heavenly. Circumstances aside, it is rather convenient to wake up in the home of a professional chef.

"No," I said, putting a hand tentatively on his arm when he moved to bring the plates to the dining room. "I … I think I'll eat here at the counter."

Hannibal actually laughed at that, a sharp, single mocking note. "Don't feel quite up to sitting down for a meal yet, Frederick?"

I blushed furiously, but could not deny it. I shook my head, grimacing. He set my plate down on the kitchen island, and fetched himself a stool to sit beside me. I ate, gingerly before my appetite took hold. Hannibal watched me, as he always watched his diners.

"What did you mean by saying I would need my strength today, anyway?"

"I know how difficult it is for you to admit to your mistakes," Hannibal said. "Almost as difficult as taking your punishment. I imagine you'll want to be fortified before you apologize to Will Graham."

"Before I-" I stared at him in disbelief, lowering my fork. "Why in the world would I do that?"

"Because you were rude to him," Hannibal said simply. He met my eyes. "Because I want you to."

"What am I now? Your bitch?" I asked, bristled. "What if I refuse? You'll paddle me again?"

"I might use my belt instead," Hannibal said, chewing thoughtfully.

I dropped my fork. It clattered jarringly on the fine china plate. Hannibal gave me a mildly reproving look.

"You can't be serious," I said, though I thought he was. "You can't simply beat me whenever you disagree with me. For God's sake, I'm a grown man!"

"You don't want me to deal with you man to man, Frederick," Hannibal said. There was an edge in his voice, beneath the superficial calm, that chilled me. "And while Will is in your care, I cannot afford to. But I won't allow you to wield my connection to Will like a weapon against me. This solution may be unorthodox, but it seems to work."

"I'll go to Jack Crawford," I said, more strongly than I had last night. "It will be embarrassing, but it will give him doubts. You know it will."

"Do that," Hannibal replied smoothly. "I'm sure Jack will find what you have done with Abel Gideon and now Will very interesting, also."

I scowled. What I had done to Will in the shower alone could cost me my career, let alone my experimentations with Gideon.

"When two people are in equal situations, the contest comes down to the baseness of nature," Hannibal said simply. "Survival of the fittest. There is still animal nature left inside all of us, I think. It is that animal instinct within you that caused you to submit to me last night."

"I didn't submit to anything!" I snapped. "You overpowered me."

"You submitted to me the moment you kissed me," Hannibal pointed out. "When you were on the floor begging me to have you."

After that, I not only could not argue, I could not even look at the man.

"Don't sulk, Frederick," Hannibal scolded. "It isn't attractive in a man your age."

Less than an hour later, I was outside of Will Graham's cell. He stood and came to the bars, looking me up and down. I saw satisfaction in his eyes.

"Good morning, Dr. Chilton," he greeted me. "Rough night?"

"No. Why would you think that?"

"You haven't walked so stiffly since the stitches came out," Will said, making me regret the question. "You're obviously down here this early against your will, you're looking at me as if I were a burden rather than a prize, and something is weighing on your mind."

"All that from a glance, hm?" I muttered, more dour than I intended. I was sick of Will Graham and his bright, knowing eyes.

"What did Hannibal Lecter do to you, Dr. Chilton?"

I looked at him, letting the fury seep through finally. "And why would Dr. Lecter do anything to me, Will? Who could have possibly said anything to get him angry at me?"

"I did tell Hannibal what you did to me in the shower," Will said. "It wasn't my intention to have him hurt you."

"Than what was your intention?" I asked. "You wanted his sympathy? His attention?"

"No!" Will exclaimed, as frustrated as I was. "Don't you see? I wanted yours!"

It was the last thing I had expected to hear from him. "What?"

"I wanted you to see Hannibal for who he really is," Will told me. "I can see that you haven't glimpsed the real … thing inside Hannibal Lecter; you wouldn't be in one piece if you had. Still, he did something, didn't he? Something to protect me?"

"He did."

"Did he hurt you?"

I considered for a long moment. On the one hand, it was insufferable to be treated like a patient by one of my own patients. On the other, Will had planned the entire incident. I was still a bit raw from the previous night, and I wanted Will's insight. Curiosity swayed me, in the end.

"Yes."

Will paced, thinking, looking me over again. "He punished you," he surmised. "Your face is unmarked, so it was not any kind of fight between equals. No, it wouldn't be. Hannibal doesn't see you as anything near an equal. He wouldn't batter you, either, not in a way that you could bring to the authorities. You're a whiner. You bilked Abel Gideon's attack for all it was worth, with the authorities, with the press- I'd be surprised if you weren't writing a book."

Actually, I was.

"But you were rude to a man I tell myself I care deeply about," Will went on, taking on Hannibal's point of view and his severe manner of speaking. His hand flexed. "I cannot abide you taking control over my friend. I cannot abide you controlling the man I have dedicated so much time to shaping. I need to put you in your place, without arousing your suspicions."

Will broke out of character and turned to me. "How much do you know about Dr. Lecter?"

"I … know that he can be unorthodox in his methods. So can I."

"Unorthodox," Will sneered. "It's a mild word for cruelty, isn't it? Tell me, Dr. Chilton, how 'unorthodox' was Hannibal with you?"

"You're the one that's been figuring it out," I said. "Don't let me stop you."

"Fair enough." Will circled the cell again, stopped in front of me. He looked me up and down, his manner so like Lecter's that it chilled me. "Hannibal sees you-" He shut his eyes, opened them again. "-as the playground bully. You use your status to intimidate and demean without actually proving your worth. I-Hannibal-would want to eradicate your pride, bring you to your knees. He has real strength, and he would want to give you a small taste of its capabilities. He could not resist humiliating you, playing with you like a cat with a mouse."

Will's fist flattened, palm out.

"You pride yourself on being a man in control of chaos, and I am chaos," Will said, speaking as Hannibal again. I wondered if he even realized what he was doing. "I take you by surprise, throw you off your guard, and then I proceed to punish you in a way you never expected to be subjected to. Since I'm limited to only hurting you mildly, I want to maximize your humility. You're nothing but a boastful child, so I treat you as such."

Will's personality broke through, and he smiled in amusement. "He spanked you."

"How could you possibly know-" I cut myself off, clearing my throat. For the first time, I actually considered leaving the hospital, and Baltimore, altogether. "Fine. All right. Yes. Yes, he did."

"But that wouldn't be enough," Will said. "He would want to dominate you as much as possible without killing you. He taunted you in some other way. He would never deign to have sex with the likes of you … but he made you think it was possible. Didn't he?"

"The way he did with you?" I asked, testing him. "Or did you get more than a taste?"

Will did not take the bait. "You are … consumed by him."

"I don't love him. I don't even like him." I paused. "I'd kill to be with him again."

"Your fetish."

"Yes," I sighed. I had quite forgotten that I was talking to the Chesapeake Ripper, and was comfortable speaking to the man. Even unsympathetic understanding could be a comfort. "You told me that I locked myself away in here so that I could have control over the dangerous people I'm constantly attracted to. It's true. I've always had a knack for manipulating people. Soon, they began to bore me. So, I kept testing the limits of my ability, trying it on stronger and stronger minds. Some people are impenetrable, but some have just enough flaws in their minds to pick away at their control."

"Hannibal Lecter is not one of those people."

"Most likely not," I agreed. I paced, finally sitting back on my ankles on the floor, across from Will's cell. "Before I became administrator of this hospital, I had a lover. A man. He was handsome, charming, polite, well-spoken. He was perfect, except for his eyes. There was something else in his eyes. They were dark, almost black, but it wasn't the color; there was a darkness deeper than any color can capture in them, something … other. I didn't see it at the time, I only realized the nature of that depth later. After … "

Will seemed interested. He sat on the floor of his cell, watching me.

"He had quirks, fetishes, but I always thought he simply liked to play rough," I went on. I could see his face in memory, those dark good looks, the thick, smooth black hair. I could almost feel those long, slender arms, all sinewy muscle, around me. "I don't love Hannibal, but I loved that man. I loved him, but something was broken inside of him. Something made him incapable of love or compassion. I never found out what it was. He became increasingly jealous, to the point of paranoia. He went completely blind with rage when I flirted with a woman. He called her a whore, said all kinds of things about killing her, about … cutting her to pieces. Dirty, he kept saying, dirty, she was dirty, I was dirty. I managed to get him out of the hospital- that's where we were, he worked there- but in the car, he … he beat me. It was late at night, the parking garage was empty. He used his … belt. My entire back was almost split open with welts, from my shoulders to my thighs, but I thought that was the end of it."

Will was quiet, thinking. I was nearly certain that he was mentally profiling my abusive lover. I wondered what he would make of the profile.

"He drove me far, far out, to the lake," I said. The words caught in my throat. Even after all this time, my skin misted with fear sweat, and my heart went racing. "He tied me up, naked, and he walked me through the snow. He … said it would make me clean. He said that, and threw me into the middle of the lake, where the ice was thinnest."

Will snorted. "You would think that experience would make you empathic enough not to freeze people in showers."

I looked at him, but decided to ignore the comment.

"Anyway, I would have died, if ice fishers hadn't seen the whole thing," I concluded, standing. "They called out and ran over. My lover ran, and I never saw him again. They pulled me out. I remember the burning. My skin was burning from cold and the welts on my back. I wanted to be dead. But I survived. I was in the hospital for a month, but I survived."

"A month?"

"They had to put me on suicide watch, but it was a misunderstanding," I said, stressing the latter. Suicide is not a weakness I am prone to, nor has it ever been. "I had gotten the job offer to be administrator here before that incident. Once I recovered, I accepted. I promised myself that no one would ever make me feel that way again."

Will raised his eyebrows, getting to his feet. "And how is that going, Dr. Chilton?"

"Somewhat worse than I expected," I said dryly. "I've had women hate me. Some have threatened to kill me. One might have tried. But men are savage, aren't they? My lover, Gideon, Hannibal … you."

"Hannibal hasn't savaged you yet, Doctor," Will said. "Not yet."

"He hurt me," I admitted. My voice sounded ludicrously soft with pain, and I cleared my throat. "He still is. He's watching, you know." I glanced at the camera. "And listening, I'm sure."

Will's mouth twitched in a quick smile. "He sent you to apologize to me, didn't he?"

Nostalgia and misery evaporated in a fresh blaze of anger. "In my own hospital!" I exclaimed, more to myself than Will. "To a monster like you!"

"You shouldn't grind your teeth like that," Will advised. "You'll crack a molar."

I would have gleefully cracked all of his and Hannibal's molars, had I the chance. I was painfully aware of Hannibal's eyes and ears on me, however. The idea of him up in my own office, using my own surveillance system against me was nearly as humiliating as his 'punishment' had been.

"I wish you were right about Hannibal!" I fumed, pacing. "I would love nothing better than to have a reason to lock him up here, to have him at my mercy."

"But you don't."

I stopped walking, facing Will. "No," I sighed. "I don't. And I really don't have a choice, do I?"

Will waited expectantly. His smugness set my nerves on edge, but once again, I was impotent.

"I'm sorry," I forced the words from my tongue. My cheeks flushed instantly, and my grip on the cane was so tight that I half expected it to break to dust in my palm. "I was rude and inconsiderate. I was cruel to you, and I apologize for it."

Suddenly, Will's hand shot between the bars. I had paced too close to his cell. He grabbed me by the jacket, pulled me against the bars. We were so close that I could smell the remnants of sleep sweat on his body.

"No-no-no-no!"

"Shhh, Doctor," Will said gently. His other arm reached out of the cell and took a firm hold on my shoulder. "I wanted to say that I forgive you."

"You could have just said it!" I said, struggling. I had been violated enough for a lifetime, and the idea of being this close to the Chesapeake Ripper sent a stab of panic through me. "Let go of me!"

"Help me remember what Hannibal did to me," Will whispered urgently into my ear. "You want a reason to lock him up here? Help me remember, and you might get it. Isn't it worth the chance?"

I cringed my ear back from his mouth. He had eaten the Hobbs girl's ears, after all; mine wouldn't be the first. Will released me then, though. I stumbled back ungracefully.

"I don't like you, Dr. Chilton," Will said. "I never have. I never will. But even you deserve fair warning, so here it is: this won't end well for you. You have an infinitesimal idea of how dangerous it is to place yourself between Hannibal and I now. Keep on doing that, and you'll wish you had drowned in the lake that night."

"I told myself that I was done being afraid after that," I shot back at him. "I made this hospital what it is so that no one has to be afraid of animals like he was, like you are! I misstepped and Hannibal used it against me, so be it! It's done! But I will not quit to go cower in a corner somewhere! I won't do it!"

"Then remember what I told you to do," Will said calmly, sitting on his cot. "And watch your back."

I must have expressed something, because Will smirked.

"Too soon?" he inquired.

It was all the indignity I could take. I left him there, intent on getting Hannibal out of my office. When I arrived there, I found Lecter smiling. Not for the first time, I wished I had the freedom of insanity as an excuse for violence. All we sane people can really do is make small gestures, which I did, by slamming the door behind me.

"That was very good, Frederick," Hannibal said. "Even though you did put it off for about as long as you possibly could."

My fury had subsided into a state that can only be described as 'sulking'. I was depressed, tired, and in pain. "Get out." Upon seeing the look he gave me, I added, "Please. Just go."

"As you wish," Hannibal said, rather sardonically. "Do take care of Will for me."

Exhausted, I collapsed onto the sofa, forgetting my battered backside. I flinched, and caught one last satisfied smirk on Hannibal's face before he left. Once he was gone, I resignedly lay on my stomach over the sofa.

I decided then that I would help Will Graham find his missing memories. I would do everything in my power to catch Hannibal at something he could not deny. I did not know whether he was guilty of anything serious enough to end him up in my hospital, but I had hope. There was no way that someone so callously disrespectful was entirely innocent. He was a narcissist, entirely without boundaries. As much as I had once somewhat admired those qualities, I now wondered if they were signs of a more significant pattern.

What was Hannibal Lecter capable of? I had just scratched the surface, I thought, and I intended to dig deeper. I had to admit that the idea of Lecter being actually dangerous was scintillating. If Hannibal had fissures in his sanity, I may be able to finally get a hold on him- personally and professionally. He may not be so out of the reach of mere mortals such as myself for very much longer. I might just see a day that I owned Hannibal Lecter after all, here in one of my cages.

Some animals will never be tamed. They will never be truly understood. Yet they can be set to study and display, like a stone in a jeweler's setting. If Hannibal were such a beast, then I would be the one to capture him. Then we would see who was forced to submit.

End