A/N: Writer's block this is all I can say- that and I'm also not entirely happy with this part, but anyhow, thankyou to everyone who's reviewed and to anyone who's baring with me through these long lapses.

Chapter Sixteen

Best-Laid Plans Of Mince And Men

Pale death knocks with impartial foot at poor men's hovels and king's palaces.

Horace


Hannibal doesn't remember moving, can't remember the trip from the door to Zoë's side, but it must have happened because here he is, falling down near her shoulder. Hand running mindlessly along the long length of copper, trying to move it or perhaps willing it to disappear all together, neither of which can he actually accomplish. He chokes a little and his face suddenly feels damp. Much to his disbelieving horror Zoë seems somehow to still be conscious, not screaming or distressed at all really, just blinking slowly, head pushing up a little from the floor to stare blandly down at the wound.

"Zoë don't move just-" His voice gravels and then cracks horribly. His hands hover over her, nothing to do, no idea what to do.

"Oh- that's not right." Zoë frowns looking down at what is, but shouldn't be. People didn't have copper sprouting from their stomachs.

"Just lay still and I can- I don't…" There's tears dripping down his cheeks and Zoë feels sorry for King, he seems so distort and she herself is just thoroughly disappointed, death isn't what she thought it would be. It doesn't feel real. She remembers her mothers' final moments, so clearly, that scream, it's hot and bright and burnt into her memory, but this- she won't remember this. She's slipping off her coil and everything's just getting dimmer. There's no pain, no feeling at all, she lies back like King told her too and stares at the ceiling feeling like she's been laid out inside a shell, something that was her body once.

"I'm going to die." Saying it somehow brings things more in focus, her limbs are cold and heavy, everything is slipping into darkness, there's no bright light, no angels, and that he was right hurts more than anything else ever could.

"No your-" The denial turns to a sob halfway through and his forehead drops down onto his hand resting lightly on her slender shoulder.

"I am I'm-" Her chest starts to heave feebly a faint crackle to her voice.

"King I don't wanna die, I don't- it's cold and dark and I hate the dark and I just don't wanna do it." Her voice shakes as his hand closes around hers, King trying to choke down his own sobs. Not a time to fall to pieces, not now, he pulls in a deep breath and its supposed to be calming when really it fills him with a disturbing clarity. This is it, this is the end, and there's nothing he can do to stop it.

"I don't wanna do this by myself King-please-what if I get lost- I want mom-." She sobbed, trying to wriggle into his lap, sobs coming harder when she was unable to manage it. King pulled himself together and sat up properly, brushing loose strands of hair from her face.

"Its okay baby, you've just gotta be brave and I'll-"

"The copper's stemming her blood-" The voice was calm and deep over King's shoulder; Drake's boots in view beside his curled up legs. There was another larger hitch of her chest, a deep breath, hand going to scrub clean an eye.

"I feel dizzy-" She mumbled and King clutched the small hand tighter in his.

"You don't have to die Zoë." His free hand curled into a fist and he wrenched himself from the floor, Zoë's hand slipping from his grasp.

"Stay the fuck out of this." He said through clenched teeth, anger suddenly boiling over.

"You'd let her die to satisfy your pride?"

"I won't let her become a monster." Of all the insults he's ever flung at the other it's this one which gets him backhanded, his lip splitting with the force, blood dripping down onto his chin.

"You're an arrogant little bastard." Drake growls hand clamping around Hannibal's wrist.

"Fuck you." He spat and Drake spins him so that his arm's twisted painfully to rest against his back.

"The mood I'm in- I very much doubt you'd enjoy it." The elder spat, mouth close to his ear. Hannibal digs his heels in and shoves back against Drake as he's hauled from the lounge, if it posses any inconvenience to the other he doesn't let show.

"This is Zoë's choice. You aren't afforded any say in this." Drake tossed him unceremoniously onto the floor, Hannibal falling to his knees, panting to keep tears from his eyes as he hears a door slam. Knows that its being locked as well- a familiar routine- this isn't the first time he's been thrown into his room like a naughty child- only it's never hurt quite this much before and this time the room isn't his own- its Drake's.

The guilt gnawing steadily at his stomach is replaced by a sharp wave of nausea, as his eyes fall on the bed- he hates what he remembers doing there, hates that he liked it, that he wanted it all by himself- without the other having to force him to it.

His stomach heaves as his mind revolts and draws up fresh memories of his betrayal, King struggling to his feet, trying to push aside the thoughts, his hands shaking violently, he laid them flat against the floor and pushed himself to his feet. Eyeing the bed as though it were something living in need of watching, he paced slowly about the carpeted room, motions calm, and smooth- not how he wanted to be, he wanted to claw at the walls. There was never any end to the bullshit and he was the same spectacular failure he'd been almost a decade ago.

-.-.-

"Where's King?" She asks voice as sluggish as the heart fluttering in her chest.

"He's fine." Drake says offhandedly, an odd edge there that he can't quite define or keep from his voice. He reaches out and snaps the spine off easily a few inches above her belly, tossing it aside with a harsh metallic ring as it strikes the floor.

"Will it hurt?" Zoë mumbles, watching him bite through a vein, blood thick and run, trickling slower than any human's would, he holds the abuse limb out and her fingers come to rest weakly against his.

"I don't know." He admits whilst watching her eyes moving slowly beneath low lids. What choice does she have, this or nothing- some great big known that people never come back from, she knows people can come back from this- King did.

-.-.-

Blade stood impassively as Karen slammed her hand on the labs empty fridge shelf, slamming the door shut a second later.

"She took all of the samples- how did she even get the code for the door." She fumes, dark curls falling into her eyes.

"Actually it looks like she popped off the front and pumped acid into it with one of the glass syringes." Trevor explains brushing long dark slick strands of hair from his face.

"Why weren't you in here?" She demanded shortly, spinning on her heel then to confront blade.

"And you, did you put her up to this."