Embers

A hollow form stood alone in an open field. The morning light was beginning to cradle the frame in its warmth. It didn't look like it had been there long…still dripping with the crimson remnants of life.
As the wind brushed across the field, it brought a light whistling sound with it. Almost like an instrument was humming slightly over the air. That's how it was discovered. A man on a morning run through the reserve near the edge of Baltimore Park, had stumbled upon it.
They had an ID on the body. Graham Walker. Nothing incredibly special about him. He wasn't a musician, and he didn't seem to have any associations with their last cases.
That's why Will Graham had been brought to the scene. To see if there were any associations. His mind was reeling and it had been more so lately. All of the deaths surrounding this new killer seemed so…inspired, so planned – a message, for someone, but he wasn't sure who.
Will let his mind drift into the abyss as Jack cleared the field of other officers.
Before him, the body began to unwind itself. First the flute like cylinders, which must have been making the whistling noise, fell from the body leaving chasms in the torso. The legs, which had been stripped of skin, with cello strings wrapped neatly around them, unbound themselves and coiled on the ground. Will walked around the body. Now in its full glory. An innocent man. Someone who did not particularly announce a dominance about him.

"You are pathetic," spat Will, feeling the darkness growing inside of him. He circled it again, almost spitting at the disgusting form.
"Your existence is nothing to me. Nothing to anyone. Therefore, you must become something. You needed to become something. That is why I have made you this."
His hands caressed the lifeless form where blood dribbled from torso to hip and he laughed.
"You will play my melody," he said and then placed the flute pieces intricately into the torso.

"Will!"
"Will!" Jack bellowed into Will's ear as he threw him from the murder victim's body. In his trance, Will had actually began touching the body, moving the pieces of the flute without actually realising it. It wasn't until Jack saw Will's hand purely inside one of the cavities that he realised what was going on and tried to get Will to snap out of it. When that didn't work he had to use force. He felt regret as he watched Will Graham fall to pieces on the ground before him. He had his head in his hands, smearing blood over his face while he shook.
"W-What happened?" He asked in a tremor.
Jack just looked down at him sadly, then motioned for Hannibal to come back to the scene to help Will.
"You just got a little carried away, Will. Can you tell me what you saw?"
Hannibal had found his way to Will's side, kneeling and placing his hand on Will's back. His laboured breaths continued, "He was a victim because the murderer thought of him as nothing. Graham Walker had to be nothing. His life meant nothing. This killer made him something, Jack."

"Perhaps we should let Will rest, Jack. He is not himself," said Hannibal, pulling Will to his feet.
Jack nodded and walked over to the forensics team to give them the OK to get back to their analysis.

Lilia relaxed back into the inviting water. Her body praised her as her muscles began to release all of their tension. It had been an intense few weeks. She had finally finished her midterm exams, hoping, praying that she had studied hard enough for a good mark.
She let out a long breath. Her phone played Debussy's Claire Delune, one of her favourite pieces. She smiled as she watched the bubbles dissolving from the edge of her toes where her feet sat on the edge of the bathtub.
Her mind drifted to the show she would be playing at the auditorium tomorrow night. The Baltimore Music association had decided to throw a ball at the Auditorium and Lilia had been chosen as a solo performer for it. It had been quite some time since she had given a performance there, with everything that had been going on. She sifted through some of her recent compositions in her mind – not sure which one she could play. It had been hard for her to write with everything that had been unravelling her being. Though; it was usually easier for her to write through all of the constriction. She had been finding it hard to place her emotions in her notes…and she thought that it was perhaps because she did not even know what it was she was feeling. That was of course in regards to Hannibal Lecter. They had been becoming closer more recently…not in the romantic sense, she mused, but forming a friendship. Hannibal had been away working with Will and Mr Crawford on the serial killer that was on the loose at the moment but had still managed to call her or send her a text message every now and then to see how she was going.
Lilia smiled in memory of the conversations that they had been having. Some about music, or about life; where he would begin to analyse her and unravel some of her thoughts, then she would remind him that she was not his patient and they would share laughter.
She lifted herself slightly from the tub to reach her wine glass and take a small sip. Then as though someone had heard her thoughts, her phone buzzed through the end of the Debussy piece and she looked over to it to find that Hannibal had sent her a text message:

Hannibal: What are you doing this evening?

Lilia read the message out loud, blushing when she looked down at herself. She wasn't sure if it was the wine that gave her the sudden confidence, but she decided that she would tell him the truth.

Lilia: Well, I'm currently in relaxing in the bath with a nice glass of wine, listening to Debussy.

Hannibal: I apologise for interrupting you at such a time. Perhaps we can talk later?

"Of course he would be a gentleman about it," she thought frustratingly, leaning further out of the tub to quickly tap a reply.

Lilia: No, I don't mind. How are you?

Hannibal: I am good. It has been a long, unfortunate day.

Lilia: You should try having a bath. It definitely relaxes the muscles.

Hannibal: Perhaps you are right.

Lilia: Hannibal Lecter having a bath? It sounds so absurd.

Hannibal: What is so absurd about such a notion?

Hannibal: I'm running the water now.

Lilia laughed out loud – it came out sounding as though her nerves were bubbling out of her throat. She wasn't sure exactly what was happening, nor could she wrap her mind around it. Was Hannibal Lecter about to be naked at the same time as her?
Her cheeks grew even warmer as her thoughts began to wonder what he would look like, but she quickly stopped herself before her mind drifted too far.
Lilia turned the faucet that said 'hot' so that she could feel the warmth tingle across her skin again and then turned her attention back to her phone while the water ran.

Lilia: You're the poised, articulate and proper, Hannibal Lecter. It just seems strange to me.

She read over her words again. "It definitely must be the wine, I'm not normally so openly playful with him," she thought.

Lilia: Sorry, I'm not offending you, am I?

Hannibal: Not at all. Poised?

Lilia: You are.

Hannibal: Thank you. Are you still listening to Debussy?

Lilia: Bach, now. Will you tell me why you had an unfortunate day?

Hannibal: I would not wish to bore you. Another case found this morning, it was hard on Will.

Lilia: I'm sorry to hear that.

Lilia: …and I don't find a single thing about you boring, Hannibal.

Hannibal: I am glad. I am finding that you are anything but boring. What will you be playing this weekend?

Lilia: To be honest…I don't know. I have found it hard to write anything of meaning recently – having trouble with inspiration.

Hannibal: Such a shame. I do hope you find something worth inspiring you as I find myself excited to hear you play again. You have a gift.

Lilia: Thank you.

Lilia: Are you enjoying your bath?

Hannibal: I am enjoying it more talking to you.

Lilia's breath hitched and her skin prickled intensely as she read over the words. Sometimes it was the little things that he said that made her remember why she was so drawn to him. She turned the faucet off again before she scrolled over their conversation and marvelled at her openness. And if anyone else looked over it they would probably consider it common conversation – but for Lilia…Well, Lilia felt fire. Fire flowing through the words she sent to him, and fire in his replies. She thought that maybe he had picked up on her playfulness and was playing along, trying to spark her to say something more. Then her phone buzzed in her hand again. She looked down.

Hannibal: I am also finding it very hard to control my thoughts, Miss Peters.

Lilia read over the words once. Then again. And again. She felt the fire spread through her being because all she knew in that moment was excitement. She didn't know how to reply. So she set her phone down and picked up her glass and took a long draw of the red liquid. Carefully, she placed it back on the counter and picked her phone back up with a shake-y hand. Lilia closed her eyes and wrote her reply as quick as possible, so that it wasn't tainted by her reasoning. She pushed send.

Lilia: What type of thoughts would they be, Doctor Lecter?

There were only a few beats of her heart before a reply appeared.

Hannibal: They are thoughts that tell me to wonder what you must look like without your lovely clothes.

Lilia's next reply was frantic and escaped her before she had time to read over it.

Lilia: …And the other thoughts? What else do you wonder?

Hannibal: I wonder what you might taste like.

Lilia's breath caught. Never in her life had she had such a conversation with someone, (not someone that wasn't already a partner).
Her thoughts were heavy as she watched her fingers type the next reply.

Lilia: I find myself wondering the same thing.

"Oh my god," she said, placing the phone back down and splashing some of the water back onto her face. She had to calm herself down. That was enough. She thought that by now, Hannibal must have a very bad opinion of her. She felt like she was practically throwing herself at him. Though, she wasn't, she still felt very embarrassed.
Her phone buzzed again and she turned her head, chewing on her lip while she looked at it sitting in its place on the counter. She mulled over it for a few more seconds – brow furrowed in thought, and then she gingerly reached for it.

Hannibal: I believe it is time that I said goodbye, Miss Peters. I do hope that you find some inspiration before your performance.

She released the breath she had been holding.

Lilia: I enjoyed tonight.

She didn't realise she had written that. Then:

Lilia: I think I have found something to draw on. Goodnight, Hannibal.

Hannibal: Goodnight, Lilia.

A very beautiful smile spread across Lilia's face. It was happiness, it was nervousness, it was embarrassment and it was inspiration. Her mind rushed over everything they had spoken about, and her body thrummed with excitement. She pulled her pruning body from the bathtub, something she was sure Hannibal would not have liked to see, and began to dry herself with a towel.
It felt like it was only seconds that had passed by, but she found herself at her keyboard, her fingers roaming each key; searching for the story they wanted to tell. And the story fell from her fingers so freely that she had trouble keeping up. She had trouble remembering exactly where her fingers were going and what notes they were playing because they were leaving fire behind. Luckily she had started her recorder on her phone, so she was catching every moment of it. What a moment it was.