Dexter

Dexter stroked the long steel blade lovingly, running his finger slowly along the blade's edge. It wouldn't be long now until his newest victim awoke covered in plastic wrap.

As if on cue, a low whimpering sound emanated from the table behind Dexter. Smiling naturally at the sound of justice about to be served, Dexter wheeled around dramatically, spreading his arms wide with the blade in his hand.

"Mr…" Dexter pulled a psych profile sheet of his victim, briefly forgetting the man's name. Well, that dramatic entrance is ruined, Dexter laughed to himself. "Connors… Three counts of sexual assault against the same woman… Who I believe was your ex-wife, am I right?" Dexter grabbed the man's chin suddenly, making him gasp beneath the duct tape pressed against his moustache. He yanked the man's chin forward to look at the picture of Mrs. Connors hanging on the wall. "You also killed her, didn't you?" The man whimpered again, red face glistening with guilty sweat. Dexter loved it when they got nervous; everyone was always so truthful when they know they're about to die. "Then, you just slipped through the cracks… like water through stones… That's where I caught you, wasn't it?" Dexter growled intimidatingly. "Down by the water where you dumped her body."

Another whimper was all he needed. The blade glinted in the tepid light. Inhaling deeply, Dexter raised the knife, grasping its handle with both hands.

This was his favourite part of every kill. He reveled in it for several seconds, letting it calm him before the surge of the downward, killing stroke.

Bring! Bring!

"Uuugh…" Dexter's phone rang just as he was about to bring the blade down. Why does this always happen at this particular moment? Placing the knife on Connors' stomach, Dexter answered the belligerent phone.

"Dexter Morgan."

"DEX!" His adopted sister's voice echoed through the kill room. Yanking the phone from his ear momentarily Dexter flinched at Debra's intensity. Something must be going on.

"Hey, Deb, what's up?"

"What are you doing? Get your butt over to the office, now," Debra sounded urgent, but excited. "We're getting new guys!"

Dexter was puzzled. "What, wait, what do you mean "new guys"?"

"I mean, we're supposedly getting new people. I'll tell you everything I know when you get here. Now fucking get over here!" She hung up hastily. Dexter could only wonder as to what was happening, or about to happen, at Miami Metro. He pondered deeply as he walked back over to the table.

"Well, that's all the time I have for tonight," he said to his victim, who looked up at him with meek hope. "Oh no, I have time for you." In a quick, practiced movement, he expertly punctured the heart of the scum on his table. The slice o' life…

When Dexter arrived at Miami Metro, it was nearly 8 o'clock. Debra excitedly met him at the elevator door. She yanked him out, jostling him forward towards the homicide crew of Batista, Masuka, Doakes and LaGuerta. They were already murmuring amongst each other excitedly.

"Hey, Dex," Angel greeted him, "glad you're here. You deserve to know just as much as everyone else on this crew."

Dexter looked at him confusedly. He would like someone to just be out with what was so interesting. All this banter is making my nose itch, he thought irritably. "Know what, guys?"

They all just looked at each other, smiling. Even the ever-grumpy Doakes looked relatively happy.

"What, guys?" Dexter was getting increasingly annoyed, and a little bit paranoid. He had just come back from a kill; were they onto him?

"So… As some of you know," Maria LaGuerta began, "I haven't been in the office for a few days now. I have been away arranging some…arrangements." She glanced around, making sure everyone was listening, none of them more so than Dexter. "Matthews and I have come to an agreement that it might be beneficial to this floor to have a new perspective on things. Meaning, I've arranged to have a few members of a homicide crew from Maryland down to Miami for three weeks."

Everyone gasped in unison. Dexter managed a stifled and awkward one just in time.

"New guys?"

"Fresh meat!"

"Holy fuck nuggets!"

"When are they coming down?"

LaGuerta held up her hands for order. "Now, I haven't got all the details, but we're supposed to get maybe four or five. I don't know who they are. I've only talked to their superior on the phone. He thinks it will be good for them to experience some, uh, new places." After the air quotes were passed, everyone chattered together, everyone but Dexter. He was trying to absorb what was so exciting about having new people in homicide if they wouldn't be staying for any significant amount of time. These people already meant nothing to him.

"They should be here in the next 48 hours."

The phone in LaGuerta's office, echoing through the empty homicide office. She left everyone to stew as she went to answer it. Dexter watched her, loftily reading her face as she spoke out of earshot. He didn't care for everyone else's banter and bickering. If he was coming off as aloof, he would just play it off as exhaustion. LaGuerta's face contorted into a look of shock, then confusion, and then understanding.

What's going on in there? Dexter thought nosily. Must be regarding our new boys…

LaGuerta re-appeared just as Debra clamped a heavy hand down on his shoulder. She shook it as Maria addressed everyone again. "That was Detective Crawford on the phone…"

Everyone was on their toes.

"Apparently they're only sending two."

Hannibal

Hannibal gathered his papers, organizing them immaculately before he locked up for the evening. His mind was still reeling, thinking about what it was that the godforsaken city of Miami could offer Will Graham. Will hated leaving his home, and often never ventured further than Virginia. Will, under any circumstances, would only agree to go if Jack threatened his job, and even then, he would be grudgingly reluctant.

Hannibal sighed deeply as he opened the dark wooden door, musing at how ludicrous a normal person could be. The waiting room was not empty as he expected. Instead, Will Graham sat in the corner chair, furthest from the office door. Hannibal could not conceal his surprise as he felt his eyebrows jump towards his hairline. "Will. Good evening."

Will only nodded, regarding Hannibal with gloomy aloofness.

Hannibal frowned. "Is there something I can help you with, Will?" He could see that the empathetic agent was depressed about something, that much was obvious by his posture.

After a few moments, Will spoke quietly. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have come so late. You're on your way home."

"It's perfectly fine, Will. Always here to help a friend." The word 'friend' still felt unnatural to Hannibal. The extraordinarily rare time he did get close to someone, they were always horrified at what was behind the human veil. Hannibal found it easier to feign friends in the light of appearing normal. "Please, come in."

Will leaned on the edge of Hannibal's desk, a gesture he would've bristled at if it had not been the intricate agent doing so. "So I guess you've probably heard by now what Jack plans on doing with me?" His voice was thick with worry.

"Yes… Jack came in here earlier, alluding that he was sending you to Florida with some other agents." Hannibal recounted the details of what Jack had told him. "Miami, if I'm not mistaken?"

Will nodded profusely, his curly hair bouncing against his forehead. "Yep, yep, only… Only… It's not with other agents. It's only me, now." He started to pace, his fingers twitching furiously. "And you."

Hannibal's frown deepened. He could feel his entire face creasing in disbelief. "What do you mean, Will?"

"Oh, Jack didn't tell you?" He feigned surprise, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "He wants you to go with me. It's a safety precaution, you know, in case I get a little out of hand." Will was getting increasingly agitated, as was Hannibal.

"He failed to…mention this to me earlier…" Hannibal's contempt for Crawford intensified. "Why on Earth would I go to Miami? Or you, for that matter?" He could not hide his distaste.

"He said that I need a change of pace, or something," Will tousled his hair, "I'm fine with it, I guess, I just need someone to look after the dogs…"

Hannibal smirked. What it was with people and animals, he would never know. "Have you no choice in the matter?" he inquired, hoping to get more information about his own situation.

"I don't think so. And I don't think you do either. Sorry, Dr. Lecter, but it looks like we're going to Miami. Tomorrow."

The psychiatrist gawped. He stammered, as rare as that was, and was stupefied. "I-I have appointments. And f-for three weeks? I-I…"

Will smirked. Apparently Lecter wasn't made of stone, not when such a surprise was slammed on him. He understood completely. After all, it was only that morning that Will had found out he was being shipped off to Miami of all places. He didn't even like the beach. "Jack wants us to be on the 9 o'clock flight. Things have already been figured out financially. Apparently he and the Miami Metro captain have been in contact for a while now…" He sighed, sinking into one of Lecter's plush red chairs. "Well. I'd better leave you to cancel your appointments for the next three weeks in a day. I gotta find someone to look after those dogs…" Will mumbled.

Hannibal was still standing there, still trying to absorb the fact that he had just been manipulated by Jack Crawford, without him even being here. "I'll get you for this, Jack Crawford…" Hannibal muttered under his breath, perhaps a little too loudly, for Will nodded in agreement.

"You and I both, Dr. Lecter…" Luckily, Will had no idea how much conviction Hannibal actually had in his threat. "Good night, Dr. Lecter. I'll see you at the airport at 5, I suppose. That's what the tickets say." Will handed Hannibal a plane ticket, a temporary Miami Metro Homicide badge, and a pamphlet with sandy beaches and smiling girls in bikinis holding vibrant drinks with little umbrellas.

This was humiliating…

Hannibal got to work as soon as Will left. He would deal with Jack Crawford sooner or later. For now, he had to assure that all of his appointments were cancelled or rescheduled. How long had Jack intended for this to happen? It was entirely inconvenient for Hannibal to leave, especially now, for there were so many things to do. He simply didn't have the time to spend frolicking about in Florida.

With another great sigh, all appointments for the next few days cancelled, Hannibal locked his office and left for home. He wondered if he even had any short sleeved shirts, or even shorts for that matter. It wasn't as if he disliked the warm weather, it was simply that he didn't like the ultra-tourism that often swamped such places. Especially Miami, Florida.

"Let us see what is so interesting then…" Hannibal mumbled to himself, glancing at the clock on the dashboard. "Five o'clock. Could be worse."