The house was a small, single floor structure, with a sloping roof and raised porch. The outside was painted an unassuming shade of gray, with a red door. There was a small, gray handprint near the bottom, where Holly had made her mark when she was a little girl. The lawn was well kept, though the flower beds were barren. There was yellow police tape covering the door and someone had spray-painted "psychic psychos" under the windows and on the garage door.

"Holly," Will said, drawing her from downward spiraling thoughts, "you don't have to do this. We can still go back."

Holly shook her head, her hair sweeping side to side as she did. She way she was sitting, it looked like she was bracing for a blow, and her facial expression was mutinously unsure, but her steel grey eyes were determined.

I want to do this," she insisted, balling her hands into fists on her lap, "please."

Will nodded, feeling a rush of pride and admiration for her bravery. Hannibal glanced at her in the rearview, checking that she was still being rational, not trying to push herself prematurely. As he pulled into the driveway, she sat forward, looking terrified.

"Holly," the psychiatrist called, "we'll be right there beside you. When you've had enough, we'll leave. We only stay as long as you want to."

She nodded, seemingly reassured by his words. All three exited the car, and Alana Bloom came to join them from her own car. For a moment, she noticed something about the way Hannibal and Will flanked Holly, the way they positioned themselves almost like they were protecting her from something before deciding she was just reading too much into it. Hannibal placed his hand lightly on Holly's back.

"After you, Holly."

She waited a second longer before walking towards the house, all three of her companions close behind her. When they got to the front door, Will tore down the police tape and held the door for them to enter. Holly frowned as she looked around, hugging herself.

"It's too cold in here," she murmured, mostly to herself, "Usually there'd be a fire going…"

Will watched, tense, as she approached the living room. She paused at the dried stains on the carpet, fingers twitching.

"This is where I fell when he…?" she trailed off, unable to find the appropriate word for what her father had done.

"Yes," Will answered, by her side.

She stared at the spot and he could see that it was surreal to her, that she almost died in that exact spot. Her gaze flicked away, a few feet back where another reddish-brown stain marked the floor.

"That's where my father died?" she asked.

He felt something in his chest tighten uncomfortably when she said that, even though she'd already absolved him for what he'd done.

"Yes."

He wasn't sure what how he felt about Holly, other than he felt responsible for her. She was too old for him to consider her a surrogate daughter, even though Hannibal had suggested it at first. No, she was something else to him, but whatever it was, he was compelled to protect her.

"Holly?" Alana called, snapping her back to reality.

"I'm alright," Holly answered, stepping away from the bloodstains unsteadily.

Will was there immediately, placing a comforting arm around her shoulders. She glanced up at him, then to Hannibal and Alana. She reminded Will of one of the strays almost, the way she pressed into his side, unsure and distrustful of what to do or where to go. Alana had warned him that Holly was not another stray for him to collect, but perhaps she had been wrong in a way.

"Is there anything your father might have kept of this victims?" Alana asked, approaching Holly carefully.

The girl frowned in question, looking to Hannibal for some sort of explanation.

"There was a patch of skin missing on each of the victims," Will answered instead, "we were hoping you'd know what he did with them."

Holly looked at the ground, thinking, before shaking her head.

"No, I'm sorry," she murmured remorsefully, "It's hard to wrap my head around the fact that he killed people to begin with, let alone that he kept trophies…"

Will tightened his grip on her shoulders, reassuring her, but everyone was quiet, trying to think of what to say.

"Holly?" a new voice asked from the door, breaking the heavy silence

A young woman with blond hair and brown eyes, around the same age as Holly, stood behind Hannibal and Alana. She looked uncertain, like she wasn't sure she was allowed to enter.

"Stephanie!" Holly exclaimed, darting from the safety of Will's arm to her friend.

Hannibal stepped back, allowing the brunette a way through as she flew into the blonde's embrace.

"I'm so glad you're okay!" Stephanie sighed, relieved, as they pulled away from each other.

"How did you know I was here?" Holly questioned.

"I saw you get out of the car with them," the other girl answered, nodding at the men and woman watching them.

Holly made introductions soon after that. The blonde girl was Stephanie Thomas, Holly's childhood friend that had also been visiting her parents when Stanley Kaye had tried to kill his daughter. Apparently, Stephanie's mother was still in denial that her daughter was a woman, because Stephanie divulged that she'd had to sneak out while she wasn't looking.

"We're going to go out back," Holly informed Will and Hannibal, "but we'll be close by."

Will looked like he was going to protest but Hannibal placed a hand on his shoulder, nodding at Holly that she could leave.

"We'll be right here if you need us," he promised as she slipped out the back door with Stephanie in the lead.

The two men stayed behind watching the girls disappear down the hill behind the house while Alana spoke to Jack Crawford on the phone about Stephanie Thomas. Will sighed, resigned to wait in the house for Holly and Stephanie.

Is she how you imagined?" Hannibal asked after a moment.

"No," Will answered honestly, "Holly is…more forgiving than I thought she'd be, considering I shot her father."

It was almost too good for him to believe. At first he'd thought she was trying to manipulate him, planning some sort of revenge, but Will's strange ability to empathize told him that that was not something Holly would do, even if it had crossed her mind. The way that she'd remembered him had given her a noble, heroic point of view towards him. Will had saved her life, killed the man that she rightfully viewed as her betrayer and nearly her executioner. She placed a trust in him-and in Hannibal-that she most likely wouldn't place in anyone else for a long time, so she wouldn't try to harm him unless he gave her extreme reason to.

"Yes, I noticed that as well," Hannibal agreed, "and she also seems to have a natural ability to read people, if her dislike for Miss Lounds is anything to consider."

Will couldn't help the hint of a smile that pulled at his mouth. When he'd walked in and heard the two women, he had been unreasonably angry, and the only reason Will had held his temper was remembering what Alana had said about Holly.

"Freddie Lounds needs to keep her distance, if she has any sort of intelligence at all-which she's shown she has," Will ranted lowly so that Alana wouldn't hear as he crossed his arms.

"We'll protect her, Will," Hannibal promised, "even from Miss Lounds."

Stephanie and I walk arm in arm down the hill behind the house. I glance behind me once, to see if Will and Hannibal are following, but it seems they've chosen to stay behind. A bit of anxiety flares in my chest for a moment, being alone with Stephanie, but it quickly subsides as she pulls me into conversation.

"How's your shoulder doing?" she asks curiously, glancing at the sling I'm resting my arm in, "Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes," I admit, "the doctors say I'll have to have physical therapy, since he cut through muscle."

She grimaces, patting my good arm sympathetically.

"You should have seen all the news crews that came here. It was ridiculous," Stephanie says, "And Katie Becker, you remember her?"

I glance at the sky, searching through memory since the name is familiar.

"That snotty girl that used to bully us in school?" I ask.

She nods, making a face.

"Yeah, you would have punched her if you'd seen all the bullshit she was spewing at the news crews. I know I was satisfied when I did."

I laugh, and it feels good, as I look back at her.

"You punched Katie Becker in the face?" I question in disbelief.

She grins, holding up her slightly bruised right hand.

"Yup," she confirms proudly, "gave her a black eye for being a lying attention whore."

I nudge her in the ribs, unable to keep myself from grinning.

"You didn't have to do that on my behalf," I chuckle, "though it's appreciated."

Stephanie shrugs, looking pleased with herself.

"She had it coming," she reasons, "especially since she was encouraging those stupid rumors that you were helping your father kill people."

The smile drops off my face almost immediately as I stare at my feet.

"I didn't help him," I tell her lowly.

She removes her arm from mine to hug me, making us stop at the bottom of the hill.

"I know, I believe you," she declares.

"I don't."

We both look up at the new voice. A man is standing a few feet away from us, glaring like I'm the most despicable thing in the world. I draw back slightly, alarmed. He's tall, taller than me, with a sort of hipster vibe. If I didn't feel threatened, I'd say he was attractive, but the dark circles under his eyes and the desperate craze to his eyes makes me think "unstable".

"This is private property," Stephanie snaps, putting an arm out to push me back, "so screw off."

"Did you help him?" the man sneers, ignoring her, "Did you chat up the men, bring them home and kill them or did you have daddy do it for you? Did you turn my brother into a tarot card?"

As he speaks he moves closer, and white hot panic works its way up my throat. Stephanie looks along the ground and I know what she's thinking of doing-throwing a rock at him, but I grab hold of her arm and yank her back. My intuition tells me that antagonizing him is not a wise idea. I doubt we could outrun him or take him on in a fight so…

"Will! Hannibal!" I scream and begin pushing Steph up the hill at full speed.

I glance behind me, and the man is closer than before, reaching for me. I scramble away as fast as I can, jostling my bad arm in the process. Pain shoots through me, but I ignore it as I continue running in full flight mode.

"Will! Hannibal!" I cry again as both men come rushing from the house.

Stephanie helps me stand upright as we clamber up the hill, holding my good arm as support since I don't have the other for balance. Will situates himself between us and the man, pulling his gun from the holster on his hip. Realizing that he's outnumbered and outgunned, the man turns and runs, presumably back the way he came. I don't stop moving until I've safely reached Hannibal and he collects me in his arms, pausing to give me a once over.

"Are you alright?" he asks, "You're not hurt?"

I shake my head, panting like I've run a mile and quaking uncontrollably.

"Holly," Will calls, coming to my side as he puts his gun in its holster again, "did you recognize that man?"

I shake my head, clutching onto Hannibal's jacket.

"I've never seen him before," I answer, distressed.

"What did he say?" Will continues, obviously trying to reign in his anger.

"He thinks I helped my father," I explain, "he was asking if I lured them in and if I turned his brother into a tarot card."

Will and Hannibal exchange glances, letting me know that there's something they're not telling me.

"What did he mean?" I ask, confused.

Will opens his mouth to answer, but the sound of footsteps alerts us that more have joined out party. I pull away from Hannibal to see who it is. To my displeasure, it is not only Stephanie's mother, but Katie Becker that has now joined us.

Katie has a badly concealed shiner on the left side of her face where Stephanie punched her. Otherwise, she looks like she always does, with perfect makeup and hair, her clothes carefully chosen to make her as attractive as possible. It's too bad she's such a terrible person, because she really is pretty. She was certainly popular in high school.

"Wow, what happened to your face, Katie?" Stephanie mocks.

Katie completely ignores her, her sole focus being on me as she stops, hands on her hips.

"Unbelievable," she laughs mirthlessly, "that you'd actually show your face here again."

I feel my expression torn between disgust and hatred. This girl has tormented me since we were little. In elementary, she picked on me for everything, from the strange grey of my eyes, to my height (I had been taller than most kids at that age even though now I'm average height at best), to the gaps that losing baby teeth made. In middle school, she taunted my awkward transition into puberty, and in high school she ruled the school and made fun of anything else she could think of.

"Who let you come here?" I demand, adjusting my skewed sling.

"Doctor Bloom," she answers, "you know she's a psychiatrist. She'll be able to tell right away that you're a liar and you helped your father kill those people. She can spot your type of crazy from a mile away."

I clench my hand into a fist, desperately wanting to punch her in the face like Stephanie had, but I know I'll just prove her right if I do.

"Back off, Katie," Stephanie snarls as I take a deep, calming breath, "before I make your eyes match."

"Stephanie," Misses Thompson interjects, "come home, now."

Stephanie shakes her head, blond hair flying around her as she stations herself closer to Will, Hannibal, and I. I look at the two men, wondering what I should do. I don't want Katie here, and I don't want Stephanie to get in the middle of anything either. I just want to leave now.

"Steph," I murmur, glancing around Will to meet her light brown eyes, "it's okay."

We know each other well enough that she reads my facial expression immediately and nods, sighing resignedly.

"Call me, okay?" she asks, hugging me.

"I will," I promise as she leaves with her mother in tow.

Katie is still sneering at me, arms crossed. Hannibal glances first at me and then at her before placing his hand lightly on the small of my back.

"Shall we go inside?" he suggests.

"What about Katie?" I ask, glancing at her unhappily.

Will places a hand on my shoulder lightly, giving me a serious, but reassuring look before looking over at Hannibal. They seem to have another silent conversation before the doctor stands back and gives me a pleasant smile.

"Excuse me for just a moment, Holly," he says cryptically, beginning up the hill towards Katie.

I look to Will, wondering what Hannibal is going to do. Catching my gaze, Will shifts closer, putting an arm around my shoulders again.

"Hannibal is better with people than I am," he confesses, "but you have to trust that he and I will take care of you Holly."

"I do," I reply immediately, following Will's gaze to Hannibal, "If I trust anyone, it's you two."

I observe, fascinated as Katie flashes Hannibal a flirty smile, her body language immediately changing. Of course, I can understand why. I admit that Hannibal (and Will, too) is attractive, but it's distasteful that she would act that way after basically calling me a serial killer. It's a little late to be putting on her charming act, I should think.

From where Will and I are standing, we can't hear what their saying, and Hannibal's back is to us, but I can certainly see Katie's expressions. At first she's all smiles, but as the conversation progresses, the smile drops from her face and she casts several glances my way and at Will before her eyes widen and she flushes, apparently from embarrassment. She spins around and rushes away after, presumably, excusing herself.

Hannibal turns and gestures for us to join him, what I believe to be a satisfied smile on his face. I try not to show my glee that finally, finally, Katie lost our seemingly eternal battle for once. When we reach the good doctor, I can't help but show my gratitude.

"You have no idea how long she's been torturing me and Stephanie. Thank you," I sigh.

"Of course," Hannibal answers, making a motion towards the open back door, "as I told you before, we're here for you when you need us."

I beam up at him as all three of us go inside. Alana approaches us immediately, apparently done with the conversation she'd been having on the phone.

"Holly, what happened?" she asks, "I heard you scream…"

As Hannibal explains what happened, I go out front and sit on the porch steps with Will. I'm still shaken up from the encounter out back, so we just sit on the steps in silence while I lay my head on Will's shoulder.

"What did that man mean about the tarot cards?" I ask after a few minutes.

"The murders were set up like tarot cards-death, the hangman, the wheel of fortune. Those were just some of them," Will explains grimly, "they had a couple names for him."

"'Psychic Psycho' is one of them, I'm guessing."

"Yes," he answers, "the other was the Tarot Killer. Both names are…tasteless, not to mention stupid. Whoever made them up is not clever."

Huh, that's funny that my father would choose tarot cards of a things because…

"I think I know what he did with those bits of skin."