"He killed me, you know."
Lydia whirls around, her blonde hair blowing in her face, hair getting into her lips. Her emerald eyes meet Leon Andrews cold icy stare. He has a gunshot in his chest, and he's giving her a broken smile.
"Your little boyfriend, he's a killer. You've seen that stain, you think he's normal?" Leon laughed, disappearing. Lydia whirls around again, to see him behind her. "He's about as normal as a crack addict." Leon's laughter booms throughout the dark forest. "To make it even better, do you think you're normal? You're not, are you? Otherwise why would you be seeing me? Do you feel, dare I say, guilty?" He disappears again.
Lydia whips to her right to see him with a small boy.
"My son cried at my funeral, did you know that? Of course you didn't, because you didn't go. You think you're compassionate, don't you? Sympathetic? You're wrong, wrong again. Always wrong!" He shouts the last word, coming at her at a lightning pace, stopping only a few inches away from her, "My blood is on your hands too, little girl. You're just as big of a part of my death as he is. You should see your stain." Leon's eyes drift behind her head, "It'll only get bigger, you know. Bigger than mine. People like you, people like us, we're meant to implode."
Lydia awakes, gasping. She slams her hand down on her alarm clock, though it's not ringing. Wilson, her cat, gets up quickly, alarmed.
"I'm fine." Lydia reassures, "I think."
"Another crime scene, I had something else in mind for our next date." Will Graham says as he holds up the crime scene tape for her. She slides through and gives him a cheeky smile.
"This is perfect." Lydia says sarcastically, "Dead bodies, my favorite kind." She rolls her eyes, walking over to Jack, "So, what do we got?"
Jack points at the dead man in the bed, "Case of ex wife anger or homicidal killer? He's missing organs. Could be our ripper."
Will analyzes the scene, "Could be."
Jack turns to Lydia, "Tell me what you see."
Lydia closes her eyes, allowing her to drift back into the scene. She sees the man struggling, though his struggle is weak and pitiful. He shouts for help, but the ripper silences him with a delicate snap of the neck. As if he were some ballerina, he does it so gracefully.
"My my, we mustn't be rude, shouting isn't very polite."
Lydia recognizes the voice. She recognizes the voice! The realization knocks her out of the vision. When she opens her eyes, she's laying on the floor with Will Graham hovering over her.
"What happened?" Will asks, helping her up, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
Lydia stands with her mouth ajar, unsure what to say, "No, no I'm not." She rubs the back of her head, "It's your ripper."
Lydia realizes at this moment, Hannibal Lector is the ripper, he is the one they've been hunting. It all made sense. He was so close to everyone at the police station, he knew the cases, he knew everything. He had been playing checkers with Jack and Will, each move trumping them.
She needed evidence.
Her head is still aching when she gets home. She grabs an ice pack and lays on her couch, putting the ice pack on top of the pillow. She lets her head droop lazily to the side, watching the news.
Suddenly, the TV goes black. Lydia bolts up, glancing around her now dark house, "Hello?" She calls nervously. She gets up, walking over to her emergency kit, grabbing out a flashlight.
"Power went out." She glances outside to see it isn't storming. She grabs her cellphone, yet it isn't her cellphone. It's a human hand. She drops it, screaming. It crawls towards her and she kicks it.
"Just a hallucination, just a hallucination." She's repeating, though the hand ties itself around her boot, pulling her in the direction of her kitchen. When she gets back up, finally warding the hand away.
Hannibal Lector is standing in her kitchen, happily butchering a human heart.
"Dinner is on me." Hannibal says with a smile, "We mustn't be rude, please set the table?"
Lydia stands her ground, "You're the ripper."
"We've discussed this, Miss Evans."
"No, no we haven't." She walks over to him, standing by his side.
Hannibal clicks the two knives together, rubbing them against each other, producing a skin crawling sound. "You've agreed to keep my little secret, and I've agreed to keep yours."
Lydia steps closer to him, "What secret?"
Hannibal gives her a smile instead of an answer.
"You're messing with him, aren't you? Will, you're getting into his head." Lydia says, storming after Hannibal as he walks over to the sink. "It would make sense, being out in the field didn't break him, you did."
"How would you stop me if I was in Will Graham's head? Would you kill me?" Hannibal turns to her with a amused smirk, "Would you slide this knife through my heart?" He hands her the knife in question, "By all means, go right ahead. There is no one stopping you, this is your head after all."
Lydia swallows hard, looking down at the knife to see the blood from the human heart. "What are you? Some kind of.. cannibal?" She asks, feeling bile build in her throat.
Hannibal gives her a smile, "I suppose we could say that. You know what they say, eat the rude." He pokes her lightly with the edge of the knife, a small laugh escaping his lips.
"This is sick, you're sick." Lydia backs away from him slowly, "You're not sane."
Hannibal puts the knives into the sink, walking over to her, rubbing his blood stained hands on his apron, "Am I sick, Lydia?" He asks innocently. "Or are you? Am I sane? Are you sane?"
She can feel the therapist trying to work his magic, she puts her hands over her ears, "Don't do that! DON'T GET INTO MY HEAD!" She shouts.
Hannibal puts a finger under her chin, leaving a small bloody fingerprint, "Aren't I already?"
She wakes up screaming. She startles her cat, who jumps off of the couch and scurries in the opposite direction. She bolts, heading for her bathroom. When Lydia lifts up her chin, she sees his bloody fingerprint.
Lydia puts on a beanie and goes out into the winter air. Letting it blow softly against her face, forcing her to forget. Though her heart was still racing, her palms still sweating. She would nervously scan the forest and kick pebbles.
"Hey!"
Lydia turns around to see Will Graham jogging down the trail after her.
"I knocked on your door, but, obviously, you weren't there." Will puts his hands into his pockets shyly, "Are you okay? You seem a bit.. on edge."
Lydia shakes her head, licking her lips, "Uh, no, I'm fine, really." She gives him a small smile, "I've just had a really tough day."
Will nods, walking up to her, "Do you need to talk?"
She shakes her head again, running a hand through her curly blonde hair, "That's probably the last thing I need to do. I'm.. running myself ragged lately. I just, I need air."
"Good thing we're out here then." He takes one of his hands out of his pocket, shyly putting it in hers, "I'm here if you need me."
Lydia's mouth falls ajar, then she smiles sadly, "I know."
They walk in silence for a few blocks until they hit the end of the trail. She sits on the edge of the lake, pulling her knees up to her chest.
"You told me I was sane, are you still sticking by that argument?" Lydia asks, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.
He sits next to her, leaning back on his hands, "Don't see why my stance would have changed." He looks over at her, "There's something wrong."
Lydia lets her eyes go back to the lake, "Isn't there always?" She laughs dryly, kicking the frozen ground. "Something.. something isn't right with me, Will." She glances over at him, "I don't want to drag you down with me."
Will laughs, he throws back his head and lets out a giant guffaw, "Are we talking about our mental states right now? Lets take a look at mine for a few seconds. I have hallucinations, I dream-walk, talk, drive, and never have good dreams. There isn't something right with me either. Probably why we fit together so well."
Lydia lets out a soft laugh, "I've just been thinking."
"Uh oh."
Lydia looks over at him, "I think you should quit."
Will lets an eyebrow pop up, "Do you?"
"Yes. I don't want to watch you go further down the drain. I also think you should stop seeing Hannibal Lector."
"What's this new fascination of yours with Hannibal Lector?"
"Am I sane? Are you sane?" Hannibal questions.
Lydia glances down at her feet, "It's nothing. I don't trust him, that's all."
"Are we back to that stain thing?"
"I don't get that kind of thing wrong, Will." She snaps at him, "I'm tired of everyone telling me that I am wrong. I've seen it. My own two eyes."
Will sighs, running a hand through his curly hair, "What is wrong with us?"
Lydia pulls her knees tighter to her chest, "I wish I knew." Lydia breathes, feeling Hannibal's taunting voice in the back of her head.
She can feel the therapist trying to work his magic, she puts her hands over her ears, "Don't do that! DON'T GET INTO MY HEAD!" She shouts.
Hannibal puts a finger under her chin, leaving a small bloody fingerprint, "Aren't I already?"
Not real, she reassures herself. But the words still attach themselves to her heart and prompt her to curl into herself tighter.