A/N: This sets up the events for Su-Zakana. I had a lot of fun writing Hannibal and Will. Enjoy.

Hannibal added the last bit of shading to his latest drawing of the Madonna and Christ Child while he waited for his second appointment with Will. The variations of these figures had captured his interest as of late. The New Testament was never a favorite of his, but in light of recent revelations, he'd found himself dwelling on the themes of birth, sacrifice, rebirth, and destruction. Was there something inherently destructive in a second coming? Should he find Will ready for Abigail's rebirth, must something break in return?

In the past, he'd fantasized the trio they could form would manifest the corrective destruction through a worthy sacrifice: Jack or Alana probably. The proffered blood would wash away Will's burden and make room for Abigail, for Hannibal. Will had glimpsed him, the real him, but he longed for perfect clarity. He was hopeful Will could eventually come to embrace the truth as it deserved to be known, but what now of the effects?

He'd decided to accept this child as a constant in his equations, but how it affected the variables was still unknown. Did it cancel out certain ones, solidify others, and which new variables did it bring? Of course, it would serve as the perfect sacrifice, and he feared that cruel higher power with many names might share this line of thinking. He would have to guard against that, but how? And where did Alana fit into this?

At 12:50, he placed his sketch, pencils, and sharpening knife in his top desk drawer, donned his suit coat, and refocused his mind to his mental tableaux of Will Graham. In his gallery of acquaintances, Will's was easily the most interesting and most detailed, but also the one most likely to change. Around this imagine, he'd placed the cases they'd consulted on together with contrasting miniatures of his profile and Will's description. They were fascinating to compare and he'd spent several evenings during the imprisonment reviewing them and tasting Will's intimate descriptions all over again. He tried to ignore the one of himself though. That needed only limited and infrequent updating for his own mental health. A knock sounded on the door.

"Hello, Will. Please make yourself comfortable." Will gave him a curt greeting, hung his wool coat and scarf on the coat rack, and deposited himself into the patient armchair. Every movement and look spoke of discomfort and disdain. Hannibal could smell dry erase markers and Quantico's floor cleaner beneath the generic soap clinging to Will's best grey suit. "Did you lecture today?" He took his place across from Will.

"Under supervision as part of my psych eval." He bit into each word as he'd taken to doing lately. It seemed Will's readjustment to freedom was not going as he'd planned. Good.

"You plan on consulting again, I hear. I'll admit, I'm surprised both that you want to and that they'll allow it."

"I guess I'm just that good." Will's caustic attitude relinquished its grip, and he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his eyes. "Jack likely hid my involvement in your attack when you didn't press charges. Now that I'm innocent and everyone's convinced the Ripper has been caught, my evaluation and certification is being expedited so I can testify as an expert witness." Hannibal decided to let that sleeping dog lie for now. He wanted to clarify where Will was mentally.

"Is this what you want though? To go back to being Jack Crawford's bloodhound? You were an instructor for several years prior to consulting." Will let his head fall down so his fingers ran through his hair before sitting back up. He looked more normal.

"For now, yes. There is still good I can do in that role." Hannibal gave the slightest hint of a smile. All of Will's actions came down to that motivation: do good, make his corner of the world a better place. It's what he would need to focus on as he shaped his plans.

"And how did it feel to be back at Quantico even in a supervised position?"

"I liked the class. We discussed initial investigations of drug trafficking, nothing particularly exotic or complicated, but…," he sighed, "it was easy to step into, and the class was engaged." Will hardened into the defensive shell he'd crafted. That was disappointing. "I saw Alana today." Hannibal knew he didn't give anything away and only looked professionally inquisitive, but his interest was piqued.

"You haven't seen her since before you broke into my house. What happened?" Will's only response was to glower at him with such distaste that Hannibal feared Alana had broken their confidence. But then, Hannibal imagined if Will had such information, this would have been their first discussion. That secret was still safe then.

"We only spoke for a few moments in the hall. She said she was glad to hear I'm back in therapy. I think she wants to be, but she doesn't trust me with you yet." That was not the real crux of the matter and they waited for Will to get to the point. "Did you tell her or did Jack?" What was behind that question? Hannibal leaned back and tried to gain some clue.

"I don't know if Jack told her, but when we discussed it, she'd not yet heard."

"Why did you tell her?" He weighed the benefits against the possible consequences of the truth.

"Beyond your own relationship as friends and colleagues, you are both very dear friends of mine. Alana's mistrust of you is regrettable, so I offered that information in hopes that it would help mend things between you." Will gave a small, dark laugh.

"I don't know if that will help now." Hannibal wanted to provide some comfort. His first thought was to tell him Alana was not the kind of hold grudges, but he recalled her comments about Chilton. It's nothing he didn't deserve. The eternally optimistic postdoc he'd first met was running the risk of becoming jaded. Work was changing her. He set those thoughts aside for later. Will spoke again, sounding pained. "I have very few expectations of the world anymore, and of those that remain, most are extremely dark. I guess it's what comes when most of the people I know, in one way or another, are killers. She is one of those few remaining light things. You've known her longer than I have and in different capacities. Please tell me you see that and value that." Again, Hannibal did not let his appearance change as he chose his next words.

"You have my word. She faces no harm from me." For now. They both knew the potential for that attachment, but it would have to suffice for now. Hannibal adopted a lighter tone of conversation. "Though, knowing her longer, I might question just how unblemished that purity is." Will stared him down.

"She's not Abigail."

"No." Nor was she a good influence on Abigail. Another thought to set aside. "But no one is completely light or dark. You should know this better than anyone."

"I agree while disagreeing to the extent I feel you're assigning her. We should make allowances between normal flaws and the darkness we pursue.

"Are you still romantically interested in Dr. Bloom?" Will immediately grew his incredulous smile, and in this context, it unnerved Hannibal.

"Is this professional curiosity or are you jealous?" He felt himself frown.

"I find that question very insulting, Will. I'll admit many personal faults, but I pride myself on that no being one of them. I simply sought a motive for our debate and I knew you had an interest in the past. That was all." That outer shell returned, but Will offered a simple apology along with a negative answer to his previous question. Now Hannibal regretted his hasty response as it had felt nice to spare with him in such a manner again. "I know you don't view us as friends yet, but allow me to hold out hope. Come for dinner this weekend. I'll invite Jack and Bella if it makes you more comfortable. It's been too long since I've had you at my table."

"Of course." It was not a warm acceptance, but it was a start. Having nothing more to say, or nothing that wanted saying yet, Will ended the session early and Hannibal took a few minutes to study Will's section of the gallery. A new miniature of a beautiful woman with wavy chestnut hair joined the wall. Both interpretations were nearly the same except for the shadows. Before he'd truly gotten his fill, his two o'clock anxiety case arrived five minutes early.

Hannibal was surprised to find that on an early February Friday, Alana had an undergrad in her office. Remarkable as the occurrence was, he stood outside his old office to eavesdrop for a second.

"If Freud has been debunked, then why does critical theory use his ideas for literature analysis? Life influences art and so don't we see examples of this theories in real life?" a young man asked with a passion indicating he was not a psychology major.

"I don't know enough about that to answer your question directly. This is a major debate within the scholarly community, which I would encourage you to pursue for the final. But for the midterm paper, I won't accept the Oedipus complex or any of his other theories as an appropriate topic." She sounded tired, so he decided to interrupt with a knock against the open door. Both she and the boy with fake glasses turned towards him.

"I'm here when you're finished," he said as if he were expected. The student declined having any more questions and Alana reminded him of the proposal timeline before he left. They both waited for him to take the stairs before speaking.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Dr. Lecter?"

"I was needed at headquarters this morning, and since I cleared my schedule for the day, I thought I could stop by. May I come in?"

"Of course!" She reached for a piece of paper and cut a strip of tape. "Stick that up and then shut it behind you." He performed the task and took the more comfortable of the two mismatched chairs she had available. "Ardelia brought in leftover jambalaya. Do you want some?" she asked as she opened the microwave door, flooding the office with a wave of spice. His first instinct was to decline, but Alana shared his passion for quality food, so he took the risk. She produced a second bowl and spoon from a desk drawer and divided the Tupperware contents.

"My compliments to Dr. Mapp."

"I will pass on such high praise. What did Jack need you for?"

"Not Jack. I was asked for a recommendation for Will's return to service. Which I did recommend." He could tell she disagreed, but did not enter that debate. "How did your appointment go?" Alana shoved her spoon into her bowl.

"Fine." She stirred the rice around with nervous energy. "Everything looks well, and they're saying August 23rd for a due date.

"And that's all?" She was clearly concealing something.

"Yeah." Connections were made and Alana stopped her agitated stirring. "Oh! I have plenty complaints about the appointment itself that Ardelia got an earful about, but I will spare you those details. Physically, everything is fine." Her eyes darted away from him. "I have a picture if you want to see." As he set down his bowl, he considered saying no. The situation with Will and Abigail was so uncertain, he wasn't sure if he was ready for this to be that concrete.

"Of course." That was needless abstraction. The ultrasound image was identical to every other taken at this stage: a roughly bean shape that had the barely visible ridges of the nose and limb buds. However, despite having seen similar images, a shiver ran down his spine knowing this one was his.

Suddenly, he was two years old and his mother was helping him hold baby sister. The wrinkly, pink newborn with only a small tuft of black hair and bright blue eyes had lain between his feet while his little arm, supported by his mother, held her head. She fell asleep almost immediately. "Mischa likes you, Hannibal. You'll be a very good big brother."

He banished those thoughts. This time would be different. He'd make sure of it. She would not meet that end. It. He shouldn't assume such things and grow attached to unsupported whims. Silently, he handed the picture back to Alana. He could feel her eyes search him for a reaction and he forced a very convincing smile.

"Thank you for showing me that." There was the potential she was beginning to know him too well, or this carefully crafted version of him as would be more appropriate to say, since she didn't seem fully convinced. He wasn't sure if that was a comforting idea.

"You're welcome to know as much or little as you'd like." He added that to his steadily growing list of things needing consideration. A thorough conversation about this future would need to happen eventually and likely sooner rather than later.

"Noon traffic should have eased by now." He stood and gathered his coat and bag. She rose to walk him out. "Jack, Bella, and Will are coming to dinner Sunday. Would you join us?" Her gaze turned to the bookshelf.

"No. I'm not ready for that yet, even if it does mean missing your food," she added, turning back to him with the smile he couldn't resist. He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and then stepped in for a kiss. The spices still clinging to her lips enhanced her flavor, so he let it linger a moment longer.

"Your company will be missed. Take care of yourself."

"Be careful."

He left, but did not immediately go home. Instead, he headed for his second anonymously owned cabin where Abigail currently stayed. He brought her additional supplies, books, and discussed last week's reading assignments. She showed him the knife she was attempting to make from salvaged antler. He told her nothing of his evolving plans.