"Fond?" Hannibal questioned. "In what way do you mean? Do you no longer desire to kill me?"

"Oh I do. More than ever these days in fact," Will chuckled, the smile not reaching his eyes. 'And guess who's fault that is. Don't you love me, Will? You hate this man, don't you? You love me. Kill him.' Will winced. He didn't want to, not really. But the voice was compelling, a wrathful force.

"So what has changed in your outlook?" The doctor pressed.

"Is this a therapy session, Dr. Lecter?"

"No," Hannibal smirked, leaning back. "I am simply curious as to what has you so fond of me, as you put it."

Will nodded absent-mindedly. He had just noticed that Hannibal's tie was yellow- not a striking yellow, mind, but a subtle golden tone that went perfectly with a sky blue suit. He didn't know when he had started imagining ripping it off the man, but the voice cackled as he started to unbutton a pristine white shirt, hands roaming, ravaging the older man's body-

"-ill? Will!" Hannibal's condescending tone broke him from his quickly-becoming-lewd daze. "You didn't answer my question." 'Yes, he didn't answer. He was too busy going even more crazy, tut tut.'

"Sorry, what?" Will shook his head to clear his mind of the inappropriate thoughts. This really was getting out of hand; whether the voice was driving him insane or whether it was purely external forces, he didn't know, but he was sure of one thing. He was rapidly spiralling downwards, the descent into the pit of insanity quickly becoming too grave for him to climb out of.

'My pit,' the voice cackled. 'My home.'

"I was just asking what made your positive feelings towards me grow," Hannibal repeated, a calm patience painting his tranquil face. "Yet I see you are otherwise distracted."

"No, I'm just-"

"Worried?"

"Leaning more towards scared, to be honest," Will admitted sheepishly, abandoning his struggle to position his shirt in a decent manner and simply letting it fall over his shoulder, exposing the bare skin that stretched over his prominent collar bone.

"Let's talk about you and me at a later date then, Will," Hannibal smirked. "Let's now discuss the topic of Thomas Caster. You killed him, did you not?"

Will looked down. "I want to say that I didn't, but I fear that the worst has come," he sighed, unable to keep Dr. Lecter's eerily calm gaze for long. 'The worst is me, William. Never forget that.'

"With that attitude, Will, you will not succeed in stability. This is not the worst thing that could have happened. In fact, as long as you dispose of all evidence of the murder, it might even be a productive improvement," Hannibal mused, ignoring the special agent's incredulous looks. "The problem exists in the matter of why you killed this man. Not that I'm not glad that you finally gave into your desires, but I did not expect you to come to my side so soon. It... Disturbs the balance of things."

"When were things ever balanced, Dr. Lecter? Even now, you have just admitted your crimes to me. You said, 'My side'. Do you believe that I won't report this to Jack and finally get you arrested?" Will frowned. He had been looking for a hole in the cannibal's defence for a very long time. He just hadn't found it yet, and he doubted it would be so easy. 'He's toying with you, Special Agent William. He's playing you just like he did Jack and Alana and everyone else. Dancing on so many people's graves. La la la la la!' Will winced; the voice, feeding on his fear, had risen to a shriek, drilling his brain with curse after curse.

"I am the Chesapeake Ripper, that is correct," Hannibal smiled "As you have previously deducted, I am also the copycat killer. And Will, believe me, I have killed more than the FBI could ever dream of. I am not a cannibal, Will. Cannibalism is the consumption of beings the same species as you. No, I am merely a god, feasting on pigs," Hannibal smiled at the wide eyed agent in front of him. "And yes, Will. I do believe that you won't report me. After all, either you rise above the swines and join me, or I feast on you."

A cackle. Shrill and piercing. 'Cocky this one, isn't he? Ha ha! I'll have fun with him! Imagine the look his eyes when you drain his veins of blood, suck the air out of his lungs! Kill him.'

Will's eyes grew wide. "I don't- I don't think it's appropriate for me to continue my therapy anymore. Thank you, Dr. Lecter, for your help, but I think I should be going now."

Will hurriedly picked up his phone and fumbled through his contacts to find Jack's number. He was just about to press call when Hannibal grabbed the small cell and threw it against the wall, denting a beautiful flowery tapestry, making Will flinch.

"I said that you shouldn't report this, William. Not unless you want to live," Hannibal's voice was steely, lacking it's usual compassionate warmth and instead laced with cold malice. His eyes were mocking, however; instead of matching his intimidating demeanour, they looked amused, maybe even joking.

A shudder ran through the special agent's body, which was still covered only by a skimpy silken shirt and underwear, as the buttery light of an autumn midday filtered in feebly from the slightly parted curtains. Hannibal's face was shadowed, still clearly visible, but somehow scarier, as if the light completely avoided contact with the cannibal.

'Not as scary as me, Will.'

"Isn't this why you came to me, Will? Because you knew that I would understand? Because you know what I am?"

Will practically ran to the door, turning back with his hand on the copper doorknob. "You're a monster, Hannibal, that's what you are. I won't report you, but let me go. Let me leave, now," he said, trying to keep the waver from his voice. He opened the door. "Goodbye, Hannibal Lecter."

And with that, he ran out of the door and slammed it behind it. He didn't look back until he had burst out onto the street, hesitating for a moment to evaluate his options. He had taken a taxi here; his car was all the way at home, and the distance was too far to run. He could call Jack or Alana to pick him up- but he didn't have his phone. Hannibal had made sure of that.

'He's smart, he's smart! Plus, you know Jack would throw you in the loony bin. Leave you there and never look back!'

"Shut up!" Will yelled, finally addressing the voice. It didn't answer, simply cackling quietly in his ear.

He had no options left. "Shit."

He had obviously waited a teensy bit too long deliberating, because he heard the door creak open behind him.

"Language, William," a smooth voice scolded him, as a lady with her child walked past him, eyeing the exposed man warily. The woman pulled the young girl closer to her side and and made a wide circle around Will, as if scared, for whatever reason. 'Oh I wonder, William. Whatever could it be?'

The curly haired brunette spun around to see a not even slightly concerned Hannibal pulling on a neat jacket while walking towards him. Will's body had already lost the will and strength to run, so he stood, rooted to the ground and not able to take his eyes off the doctor. His maroon eyes were dark, almost black, but toned, the shades that crowned the pupil roaring like an amber fire and fading into a smooth and rich red wine, saturated with a deep colour. Just as intoxicating, too, as Will found himself lost in its aged aroma.

His knees trembled, threatening to give out.

Hannibal came to a stop in front of Will, cocking his head to one side, as if contemplating what to do. Will gasped slightly as his legs held true to their demands, ceasing to hold his weight. His knees hit the ground with a loud crack.

"Why don't you come in, Will? We can talk about this calmly, inside, away from the prying eyes of the local dullards." Hannibal's eyes scanned the surroundings as he spoke, before grabbing Will's arm as gently as he could muster. "You wouldn't want to get exposed would you?" 'Oh yes! Freddy Lounds would have a field day, the bitch!'

Desperate tears filled the empath's eyes. He nodded, struggling to get up, not a word escaping his lips. It was almost like he had given up. Hannibal knew better. William was strong, just like him; he wasn't one to give in. He would feel the pain of his meanders through the bogs of the criminally insane only temporarily, the doctor was sure of it. He would return to normal shortly, a new scar adorning his face, not yet faded, but swiftly ignored.

As they made their way back into the building, Will stumbling as if he had lost all control of his limbs, he found himself once again mesmerised by the man pulling him along. His chiseled cheekbones and straight jaw, giving the impression of a man cold, hard and impermeable. However those maroon eyes of his and that thin, arched smile held no malice, not towards Will at least.

The doctor tugged Will up the stairs back to his office, leading him, not forcefully, but with conviction; like a dog on a leash. 'That's what you are to him, Will Graham. A dog! A pet! An animal to tame! Just another tedious task for Dr. Hannibal Lecter!' the voice laughed, a shrill, unidentifiable sound, like that of a dying child, screaming for its mother.

Once the two men had reached the confines of Hannibal's office, Will slipped his arm out of the taller man's grip and sat back down on the loveseat.

Hannibal seated himself back at his desk and sifted though some papers.

"So, Will," he began. "What would you do, to resolve this situation?"

Will buried his head in his arms. "I don't know. I've become a monster. I'm a murderer. You're a murderer. What have I gotten into?" He mumbled into his shirt, the moisture that had been slowly welling up in his eyes finally spilling, leaving salty streaks down his face.

'Too weak, Will!'

Hannibal sighed an stood, holding out his hand.

"We're not monsters, William. At least, I am not. And if you decide to join me, you won't be either. Come with me, Will. Leave the tier of lowly pigs, primal animals. Join me, Will. Join me in the world of gods."

--

"You're grieving, Will. Not for the life you have taken, but for the life that was taken from you."