Will's nerves felt as if they had been stretched to their limit. He hadn't spoken to Freddie Lounds in over a week, and now she had stopped answering her phone once again. Despite his efforts, he simply couldn't get hold of her.

He had stopped trying to convince himself that she was too busy to check her messages. Because it had become quite clear that she was missing.

Will thought back to their last conversation when she mentioned that there would come a time when playing it safe wouldn't be an option.

Which is why he had decided to agree seeing Dr. Lecter for another conversation between two acquaintances. Except this time it was at Hannibal's home.

"I heard you've got a lead in the case" Hannibal said. "Something about a potential suspect who had basically stumbled right onto the FBI's doorstep."

"It's not much of a lead so far. He's still refusing to talk to us."

"Jack mentioned that he requested to speak to you personally."

"He did. And I'm still not sure why..." He paused, realizing that Jack and Hannibal had still kept a rather tight friendship during his incarceration. "You're close with Jack." Will wasn't certain if he had meant it as a question or a statement.

Hannibal nodded once. "I like to think so. We often have dinner together."

"He's been slightly distant with me lately. Not that I blame him. But I wonder if there's anything going on in his life. Jack changed once he found what that his wife was sick, but now... I get the feeling something else happened while I was locked up."

"It's hard to imagine what Jack is going through at the moment. It's understandable why he would want to keep his distance."

"I just keep wondering how he's able to keep things together. A sick wife, and he's already working two cases and has me to worry about... I called him a few weeks ago and thought I heard him being in a bar during work hours. It might've been just my imagination, though. Jack is stronger than that."

Hannibal kept quiet, something that Will found unusual. He tried searching his face, but couldn't figure out what he was supposed to read. A few moments passed until Will realized that the silence meant that he was right in his guess.

"He's really drinking to cope, isn't he?" A small, almost imperceptible nod from Hannibal followed. "Did you talk to him about it?"

Hannibal glanced away for a moment. "I am not his doctor, Will."

"You don't have to be, just give him some advice, just talk to him. We can't let him spiral down because of this."

"He is in charge of his own life. We have no business interfering."

"You said you're his friend."

Hannibal pressed his lips together. "Jack Crawford is a man who doesn't appreciate people dispelling advice. He wouldn't be able to listen to me unless he would choose to do so. And at this moment he doesn't."

"So we're supposed to just let him be alone in this until— until what? He goes down a hole so deep he won't be able to climb out of?"

"Some people have to reach rock bottom before they are ready to let themselves be helped."

Will was surprised just how cold and clinical Hannibal was speaking about someone he considered a friend. If he still had any reservations about the kind of man Dr. Lecter was, then at that moment they dissipated. Will was standing in front of someone who would enjoy seeing someone struggle and be in pain because it was interesting for him. Because he wanted to see how they would react to such a situation.

For someone who had spent all his incarcerated time feeling like a monster because of where he had ended up, Will couldn't understand how the man in front of him could simply live his life the way he did. Pretending to be normal all the while lying and pushing people to do things they wouldn't even consider otherwise.

A sudden headache struck Will and he got off his seat before he was even aware of it.

"Will?" Hannibal asked, an eyebrow slightly raised.

"I'm just not feeling—I've got to-" Will placed a hand to his head to keep it from exploding.

"The bathroom's right down the hall" Hannibal said, not the least bit bothered by his change of demeanor.

Will just nodded once before walking off.

Inside the bathroom, he used the sink to splash some water on his face. But when the dizziness refused to leave, Will found himself sitting down on the tiled floor and holding his head.

A few minutes passed before he could gather his bearings, and soon enough, Will felt reasonable enough to go outside. He was about to get back to his feet when something caught his eye.

Something glossy and violet colored was lying under the bathroom cabinet. Will narrowed his eyes but he couldn't tell what it was, so he moved closer and stretched out his hand to grab the object. When he finally dragged it out from under the cabinet, Will stared at it, frowning.

An earring.

Will's first thought was that Hannibal must have had a dinner party recently, but realization quickly dawned on him. It was the same earrings that Freddie Lounds had worn when they had last met.

-o-

Will sat up in his bed that night, staring at the earring in his hand.

If it had been any man other than Dr. Lecter, he would have believed that Freddie Lounds had simply dropped the earring and then forgot about it. But this was a man who liked to gaslight people and then send them on their way. It wasn't too much of a stretch to think that Hannibal would kill if he thought that someone was attempting to unearth his past.

Will needed to talk to someone about this, but the closest ally he had relied on was gone.

Night crawled by so slowly that Will thought for a moment that it would never end. He had spent it all going back and forth between decisions. The decision to tell Jack about his finding or not. The decision to beg the FBI to storm Dr. Lecter's home and maybe find whatever was left of Freddie Lounds. But all these scenarios were unlikely and incriminating to no one but himself, and the frustration was gnawing at Will's mind.

Eventually, he decided that he couldn't keep the information to himself anymore. When daylight reached his home, Will picked up the phone.

Several more hours passed until he finally heard the sound of screeching car tires. Alana was on his porch when he opened the door.

"I don't understand why you didn't tell me what this all about over the phone" she said. "What's going on?"

"About a week and a half ago I spoke with Freddie Lounds."

Alana frowned deeply. "But you hate journalists."

"I needed someone who would be willing to listen to me. And a few days ago she stopped replying to my calls."

Alana suddenly narrowed her eyes, remembering something. "Didn't she go missing right about that time?"

"She didn't go missing, Alana. She was killed."

"And why do you think that?"

Will dug inside his pocket and revealed an earring in his palm. "I found this under a bathroom counter. At Dr. Lecter's house."

There was anger in Alana's eyes. Pure, unmitigated anger, and, for a moment, Will thought she would ball her hand into a fist and send it flying into his face. But she just shook her head slowly, her eyes fixed at him with intensity.

"This obsession you have with him as to stop, Will."

"But this isn't-"

"I'm not joking, this has to stop before-"

"He taped all of our sessions" he said suddenly.

Alana's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Will went over to the desk in his living room and began to dig inside. As soon as he found the recorder he pressed play. The sound of their first session began, and Alana's eyes widened.

"I found this in his house, hidden. And all of the sessions are here" Will said, cycling through them. "All of them."

Alana just stared at the recorder with confusion. She then shook her head. "Why would he do this?"

"He wanted to have something to use against me. He must've planned it weeks in advance."

"But I just— It doesn't make any sense. This isn't like him."

"He's really good at faking who he is."

"No, this can't be—" She sighed. "I need to talk to him and straighten this out."

Alana made for the door, but Will quickly stepped in front of her and blocked the exit. "You can't."

"Get out of my way" she said, frustration bubbling right underneath the surface.

"I can't just let you-"

"Will!"

"He's going to kill you!"

For a moment, the room instantly fell into complete stillness. Alana just stared at him in stunned silence.

"I'm sorry" he said, barely a whisper. "I'm really sorry, but I know it in my gut that he'd do anything in his power to keep his secrets hidden."

She took a second to compose herself. "He may have crossed the patient-doctor confidentiality line – and that's incredibly unethical and rude of him - but that doesn't make him a killer."

"Alana, I just showed you proof that Freddie Lounds disappeared after being in Dr. Lecter's home and you still refuse to believe it. Remember when I told you that you have a blind spot for the people you care about?"

She glared at him. "You mean like what happened with you?"

Alana waited a moment to let it sink in before moving him aside and opening the door.

"I didn't kill anyone" Will said, trying to sound confident, "and I think, deep down, you know it's true, but you refuse to believe it because that opens the possibility that the very man who mentored you is a monster." When she stopped on the threshold, he went on. "You keep letting yourself be blind to what's really going on because the alternative is that all this time you couldn't see who he really was."

Alana narrowed her eyes. "You're psychoanalyzing me now?"

A small moment of silence passed between them.

"Am I right?" Will asked, almost too quiet for her to hear.

There must have been an inner battle going on, because Alana was still in the same spot, her gaze a million miles away. She suddenly took a deep breath, as if realizing how tired it was. "I really need to go."

"Promise me you won't talk to Lecter" Will said.

"I don't think it's any of your business what-"

"If there was ever a moment when you trusted me, then believe me when I tell you that nothing good would come from questioning him."

Alana chewed her lip and then let out an exasperated breath. "All right" she said eventually. She turned to leave.

A bullet exploded on the sill above her.

Before a second one could connect, Will had already pulled Alana back inside the house and slammed the door shut. They both hunkered down in the living room, keeping low and away from the windows.

"What just happened?" she asked.

"I think Jack's plan is panning out. Just not in a way either of us hoped."

The window next to them shattered on one corner, sending a shower of glass onto the floor.

"Do you have your cell phone?" Will asked her.

She nodded and searched her pocket. "I'll get hold of Jack."

"Good, just stay here."

Will made a move to head to the other side of the room, but she grabbed his arm. "What're you doing?"

"Things are going to turn ugly really fast. And I'd rather not be caught empty handed."

She stared at him for a second. "You have a gun." Alana wasn't sure if she felt perplexed or relieved.

"I know how this looks, but I only used it in self defense."

Another window was shattered by bullets, causing both Alana and Will to stay rooted to the spot.

Footfalls began to sound somewhere outside, and Will could tell by the familiar creaking noise that it was coming from his porch.

"Come out, Mr. Graham" a voice said, "There's really no point in vandalizing your home."

The voice wasn't familiar, and that meant the FBI still had the accomplice in custody. Will was certain that the killer himself was now sitting on his porch, ticked off by having someone he had worked suddenly end up behind bars.

"How did you know where I live?" Will asked.

"I thought you'd have figured it out by now." A moment of silence. "Okay, I'll make it easy for you: Sammy didn't just wander into the morgue like an imbecile. He was supposed to get caught so that we could coax you in that interrogation room."

A few seconds later, the dots connected in Will's mind. "You followed me home that night."

"Bingo."

"Then why didn't you kill me then? It would've been easier that night."

"You weren't that high on priority list back then. Besides, I don't know if you've ever tried this, but attempting to kill someone in the dark is pretty damn difficult. I prefer daylight. And just my luck that you live in the middle of fucking nowhere. So why don't you show your face so we can settle this? Just us two, no more stupid games."

"If it was just between the two of us, then why did you try to kill my friend?"

The man sighed deeply. "I really hate shrinks."

Will struggled to think of a plan as he looked at Alana talking in hushed tones on the phone. Keeping the man talking seemed to be their best bet.

"We don't fit your pattern" Will said, and he began to head towards his desk where the gun was stashed.

"The funny thing about patterns is that they can be broken."

"Why?"

"Why don't' you tell me why you're working with the feds when you should be right here beside me, knocking them out one by one."

"I already told your accomplice that I'm not a killer."

"I know they made your life miserable. The feds, the cops, your so-called friends. Everyone. So why haven't you cracked yet?"

Will risked stretching out slightly so that he could reach into his desk.

And as soon as he did, the footsteps ceased sounding from the porch. They were coming from somewhere to his right and if Will was right, then the man was circling the house and heading for the back. Where the door stood unlocked.

"Don't move" he told Alana one more time before grabbing the Glock and running towards the back door.

The kitchen was quiet, and as far as Will could tell, there were no more footfalls anywhere nearby.

He inched forwards and stopped in front of the door, listening. No breathing sounds. Nothing. He wanted to wait him out, but at any moment, the killer could have circled right back to the front of the house, and Will couldn't take that chance.

The pushed the door open with one hand, keeping his gun steady with the other.

He saw nothing but trees rustling in the wind. Will tentatively took a few steps forward, keeping his ears pitched for any sounds. Unfortunately, when he did pick up something, it was too late.

He felt something cold pressing on the back of his head.

"Mind doing us both a favor by dropping that gun of yours?"

Every muscle in his body protested, but it wasn't as if he had a choice in the matter. The few seconds he took to waver made the man only press the gun's nuzzle further into his head. Will let the Glock fall onto the grass.

"All right" the man said from behind his shoulder, "now we can properly talk."

Will closed his eyes, surprised to feel somewhat content to die right there in his back yard. He wasn't particularly glad to have Alana to be the one to stumble over his obliterated head, but maybe that was just the way things were supposed to end for him.

And yet, for the next few moments nothing happened.

"What are you waiting for?" Will asked, more annoyed by the uncertainty of the situation than anything else.

"I told you, I want to talk. I don't want you dead, Mr. Graham. Not just yet."

"You tried shooting me just a few minutes ago."

"I didn't say I didn't want you hurt."

Will wasn't sure what to make of that "All right, then. Talk."

A few heartbeats passed before anyone spoke again.

"He's been digging in your mind too, hasn't he?" the man asked, his voice suddenly softer. "I can tell."

Will stayed silent for a few seconds. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"I can tell you've been in therapy most of your life. That's one aspect we have in common. The same with the choice of people who took a pickaxe to our mind."

Will didn't need to ask to know that they were thinking of the same person. "What did he do to you?"

"It's what he didn't do that really screwed me up." He sighed. "You're going to crack just like me one day, Mr. Graham. We both know that. And it won't be because of some case or because someone looks at you like you're a monster. It's because of him."

A bone crunching sound came from behind him, and the gun was ripped from Will's head. When he turned around, he caught sight of Alana holding a shovel. But the blow only seemed to anger the man, as he quickly turned around and used the butt of the gun to slam it into the side of her head.

Will dashed towards the spot where he had left his gun. But by the time he grabbed the Glock, the killer was already running. With his hands shaking and heart going a million miles a minute, Will took aim and shot. But it failed to connect.

After the second shot missed, Will frantically pulled the trigger a few more times before realizing that he was out of bullets. Panic immediately when it dawned on him that he'd only had two and he had wasted them.

All he could do was stare as the man was quickly engulfed by the trees behind his home. It took him a few seconds to realize that Alana was still there, blood going down the side of her head.

"Are you okay?" he asked, crouching down beside her.

She shook her head slightly. "It's not a big deal, probably just a scratch." Alana paused. "What did he tell you?"

He opened his mouth a few times before deciding there was no point in her knowing. "We should get you to a hospital" Will said, instead.

"I'm fine" she said, slightly annoyed, "just tell me what you two talked about."

Will took a breath before answering. "He told me that his psychiatrist turned him into who he is."

She just nodded, urging him on.

"But you're not going to like to hear his name."

Alana held the bleeding side of her head as she stared at him in silence, worried.

-o-

"You're sure?" Jack asked him, looking tired and skeptical.

"Jack, when you have a gun to your head, your hearing suddenly becomes sharp. I'm telling you the truth."

The Special Agent-in-Charge sighed deeply.

They were both in a small hotel room where Jack had assigned an officer to watch the door. Will felt like he was back to being under surveillance, but he had been assured that the guard was for his own safety.

"I just can't believe it" Jack said, pacing the room, "Lecter has always received glowing recommendations for his practice and now we're supposed to believe that he also helped create this killer?"

"Maybe it was accidental" Will offered, even though he didn't believe it.

"The problem is that we can't just go and straight up ask Hannibal who this guy is. Both you and Alana only saw flashes of this man and that's not good enough to make up a description." He made a sound of frustration. "I'm still pissed about that, by the way."

Will frowned. "That we couldn't get a good view of the killer?"

"No. The fact that Alana was there, and that you, somehow, had a gun on you."

"The gun was just a precaution" Will said in a low voice.

"And now I'm somehow supposed to learn to trust you again."

"Jack, I don't think I've stepped out of line since you pulled me out of prison. Everything I did, I did for the sake of the case." It was only a half-truth, but Will decided that confessing that wouldn't do either of them any good.

Jack sighed. "I know."

"So where does this leave us?"

"We'll need to run a search on all the patients that Dr. Lecter has had over the years."

"That would take a while" Will mumbled.

"And even once we're done, we probably won't find out anything important. Everything we're doing at this point is a long shot."

"So was the plan to release me, but it did work out in the end."

"I also almost got you shot."

Will chewed the inside of his cheek. "I don't think he would've killed me, Jack. The killer seemed more interested in knowing why I didn't turn out just as he did."

"You think he'd come back after you?"

A pause. "I don't know."

Jack stopped in front of the window and looked outside, pensive. "I've been running this in my mind over and over, but I'm still not sure if it's a good idea."

"What is?"

He turned to face him. "Giving your firearm back."

Will just stared at him, stunned.

"I think you've proven that you're on our side in all of this and that we can't risk sending you out there without a means to defend yourself." Jack took a deep breath. "Of course, there's also another side of me that thinks this is all just an elaborate game for you to earn our trust before running off."

"Jack, I don't think there's any way I can make you trust me other than to tell you to look back at what I've done so far."

The Special Agent-in-Charge nodded, lost in thought. "You better not make me regret this" he said eventually.

Will smiled slightly. He didn't have the luxury of enough friends for that