A/N: Just a bit of a heads-up that this is the last chapter. Happy reading!

The weather had mercifully warmed up, replacing the unseasonable cold with rain. But the change did little to ease Will's nerves.

He sat at a table in the local library, surrounded by old papers, struggling to find anything pertaining to the man Hannibal had admitted to killing during his years as a surgeon. Even if it had never been considered a murder, he wasn't about to relent. There had to be something, anything to show that Hannibal wasn't the innocent man Jack thought him to be.

But after hours of searching with nothing to show for, Will sat back in his chair and tried to think. He was worrying himself sick over everything and nothing, as he often did whenever he was alone. But worry was good. Worry meant he was still alert and not letting himself fall into a false sense of security.

Will had buried all the evidence he had on Hannibal – the recorder, sketch, the schedule book connecting Hurley to him - all in a box, sixteen paces away from his house. And this sudden lack of anything tangential to look over or even hold in his hands was making him nervous. There was a certain finality to it. One which ensured him that he was so close to ending this.

But plenty of time would still need to pass before he could relax again.

He thought back to Jack and the team and wondered if, like him, they were also being driven up the wall by the lack of any new developments. Will also speculated that Alana must have been neck-deep in paper work. She hadn't called since they had broken into the office almost two days before, but that was hardly out of the ordinary. The two of them never really kept in close touch in the first place.

But Will kept his phone nearby all the same. And when it began to ring a few minutes later, he was surprised to hear an unfamiliar voice on the other line.

"Yeah, hi, is your name Will Graham?"

"Yes, that's me."

"I'm Hal Bailey with Animal Control. We got a complaint a few hours ago about Alana Bloom's dogs barking all day today and yesterday night, and the neighbors called us. Apparently, she hasn't been home for quite some time. Anyway, the proper procedure here is to call the cops and let them handle this mess, but most of the neighbors really like Ms. Bloom, so they told us to call you instead and avoid all the trouble. Said something about how you could take care of this."

Will sat up in his chair. "Wait, she hasn't been home lately?"

"Apparently."

"Why? What happened?"

"Look, I don't know what to tell you. All I know is that I've got seven barking dogs that are causing a whole lot of neighbors to complain. So can you help us here or not?"

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

He scrambled to grab his jacket and secured his gun before taking off.

The fact that Alana hadn't been home lately was definitely a sign that Hannibal had caught onto them. But Will still had to believe that he wouldn't hurt her. They were old friends and killing someone you had a history with had to be difficult.

A part of him refused to believe this, but he tried to ignore that voice. The fact that she was only missing and not discovered somewhere as an artistically grisly tableau gave him some sense of hope.

While on-route, he attempted to call Jack. As strained as their relationship had become, he knew there weren't that many people he could rely on. But calling him that soon turned fruitless. He wasn't answering.

As Will went through the people in his small contact list, he realized that he lacked many options. But there was no way around it. He had no choice but to rely on the team who was still apprehensive and suspicious around him.

A tired sounding Beverly answered. "Yes?"

"It's Will. I need your help."

"Sure, but unless this is about one of the cases there isn't a lot we can do. Jack is keeping us on a pretty tight leash right now."

"Alana is missing. I'm heading for her house right now."

A moment passed on the other line. "We'll meet you there."

"I tried calling Jack, but he's not answering."

"He's out chasing dead-end leads and dropping by every suspicious crime scene that the police are getting." Beverly sighed in frustration. "The stress of these cases has been weighing a lot on him lately, and I think it's just reached the boiling point."

"And what's worse is that he's taking it out on us" someone next to her said. Will recognized the voice of Jimmy Price.

Will made a mental note to try and talk to him, even though he knew it would prove worthless. A man like Jack Crawford simply shut out everyone around him when he fixated on something. He had good intentions, and the damage he was causing simply didn't occur to him until it was too late.

The drive to Alana's home set his nerves on edge. Even if he knew there was most likely no clues to be found, the thought of seeing her house empty and the neighbors gathered in confusion made him anxious.

He didn't even have to keep an eye out for the street number and houses because the barking of dogs guided him.

Will quickly got out of the car and headed towards the two of Animal Control officers who were unsuccessfully attempting to keep the pets calm.

"Finally" Bailey said, sounding exhausted, "we were beginning to think you'd never show. One of Ms. Bloom's neighbors had a spare key and fed them a couple of minutes ago. And judging by how they were eating, it's safe to say your friend hasn't been home for a few days.

Will looked at her empty home as he took the leashes from the man.

"So will you be able to take care of them until she comes back?" Bailey asked.

"We'll be all right. And thank you for the call."

As the two men went on their way, Will did his best to calm down the dogs. But they seemed too excited to stay put. So he brought them inside the house and let them off their leashes in the back yard, hoping that their enthusiasm and energy would wear off after a chase or two.

Will felt completely out of place standing in Alana's home. He was used to stepping into crime scenes with a body that required his reconstruction, but standing in an empty house gave him nothing. Still, he took a look around.

There didn't seem to be anything disturbed, no more than the usual slight mess of dishes in the sink and clothes thrown about on the sofa. But nothing to suggest she had been ambushed and taken away. He inspected the living room and then went upstairs, but Alana's laptop was nowhere to be found. Which meant she still had it with her when she disappeared. Most likely somewhere on the route between her office and home.

The creak of the front door alerted Will that someone had stepped inside. The three scientists walked inside.

"Thanks for coming" Will said.

"Did you find anything?" Beverly asked. "Because the neighbors don't seem to know what happened."

Will shook his head. "What about the people at her office?"

"She had eight patients scheduled for a consult these past two days. None of them know anything and they haven't received any call regarding a cancellation."

"And what about Dr. Lecter?"

"He's in the middle of a session and we couldn't reach him" Brian said.

Of course he was conveniently busy. Will took a breath. "Then I'll have to walk right into his office."

He tried walking through the front door, but the three didn't move out of his way.

"We can't let you" Jimmy said.

"Why?"

Beverly extended her right hand. "Will, please hand over your gun."

And that's when Will realized that he had made a mistake. In his blind rush to reach Alana's home, Will had failed to realize that the bubble of freedom that Jack offered him wasn't supposed to be known by anyone else. Especially not the team who worked for the FBI and knew he had to be kept under surveillance.

And now he had shown up with a gun he wasn't allowed to carry and without a single officer to keep watch of him.

There was no point in resisting. Will handed over his gun.

The three lead him outside where a few men in uniform were finishing up asking the neighbors questions. And as the officers crowded around him, Will knew there wasn't any excuse he could come up with that could get him out of the situation.

-o-

He was back at the headquarters, the building swarming with agents, but Will was at least grateful that he wasn't in handcuffs or thrown back into a cell. He also wasn't sure what the team planned for him, so he tried to stay out of their way as they made phone calls and went through papers.

Brian looked at the others with a knowing glance before saying, "I think you both can agree that this is what seals it."

Will frowned. "Seals what?"

None of the three looked as if they wanted to explain.

"We talked about this a few days ago" Brian went on, "and we came to an agreement that Jack needs to step back and we have to be reassigned to someone else."

"Why?"

"Most recently because the man let a convicted serial killer step out into the world without constant surveillance."

Will fell quiet, the weight of the words settling in his head.

"He's burned up and not thinking straight. For the past week he's had us stay up after 3AM to go through the same evidence we've considered over half a dozen times. And when he's not with us, or out at a crime scene rambling about how we must be missing something, he's off drinking somewhere."

"Which we'd understand" Jimmy said a bit more quietly "if he'd come to work completely sober."

So Jack was under stress and losing it, and here was the rest of the team simply stepping away instead of helping him.

"You're going against him?" Will asked in disbelief.

"We're not telling the Bureau that he let you loose. Despite what you might believe, we don't want him fired. But we have to come clean about everything else."

Beverly nodded. "He'll probably be suspended for a while. It'll give him a chance to reassess his situation."

"His wife is sick and he's pressured to catch two serial killers" Will said "You can't expect him to keep a level head all the time."

"He's endangering everyone with his choices. We're just trying to get things back on track."

"And Alana?" Will asked. "By the time you'll finish going through technicalities, she'll be dead. If she isn't already."

"We have the police helping us out until we can sort this out. But even then..."

"The first twenty four hours are critical and she's been missing for two days" Will said, completing the thought.

"We're not giving up. But right now things don't look too optimistic."

The door to the examination room opened and a young man leaned in to hand Brian a file. He thanked him before looking through the pages.

"So Dr. Lecter still isn't answering his phone" Brian said, "and according to the patients he had lined up for today, he hasn't even shown up for work at all."

Will's stomach clenched.

"We'll send a few people to his office and see what's going on."

"What about the other calls we talked about?" Beverly asked.

"Well I managed to get hold of the phone numbers of Dr. Bloom's brothers" Brian said, looking through the list of names. "And she sure has a lot of them."

"Need any help?" Jimmy asked.

"You're an expert on fingerprints, remember?"

"So? How hard can it be to ask a few questions?"

Het thought for a moment before answering. "All right, but if Jack hears about this, I'll pulling a Nixon and denying everything."

Once the two left and closed the door behind them, Will looked up to see Beverly still standing in the middle of the room.

"You're staying behind to watch me" he said. It wasn't a question, but Will tried to make it sound like one. Because there was still a grain of hope floating around, and if he was lucky enough, maybe he could catch it.

"Sorry" Beverly said, pulling up a chair.

He stared at the table between them for a moment, plucking various thoughts and speeches that resided somewhere in his memories. But when he opened his mouth to speak, Beverly cut him off.

"I can't let you go, Will. I can't afford to lose my job, even for a friend. I'm sorry."

What threw him off was how sincere she sounded. The Beverly he knew stoically endured everything the world could throw at her, but now she genuinely looked rattled. And it wasn't just because one of her colleagues had disappeared.

It was because the man that the entire team looked up to and called their boss had spun out of control. He had went from someone you could trust with your life to a man who was burned out. And it didn't look like there was a way to fix it.

"If it counts for anything" she said, "I didn't want to tell on Jack about anything. But I was out-voted."

Will felt like he was so close to the end of the line, but there was still an entire building of agents standing in the way. But despite the fact that he had never felt neither comfortable nor skilled trying to talk his way out of a situation, he realized that there was no other option. He had to give it a try, even if it was out of desperation.

"I broke into Dr. Lecter's office two days ago."

Beverly's gaze fixed on him, but she said nothing.

"I found a way to connect him to Hurley, and one of the Chesapeake Ripper victims."

"And you kept this to yourself."

"If I told anyone about it, all you would have seen was a convicted criminal who broke into his psychiatrist's office. I needed more time to find other proof. But evidently it won't be able to do that."

"You know I'd like to help you. But we have to do things a certain way here, and letting someone like you go just isn't an option."

Will looked past her, staring at the walls. "I'm going back to prison in a few days. If not sooner."

She frowned. "I don't remember Jack telling you anything about that."

A bitter smile appeared. "It's not hard to guess. It's been some time since there's been a proper crime scene for me to reconstruct. As far as the FBI is concerned, I'm of no use to them anymore. If nothing new will show up on the horizon, then the case will go cold. There's no point for me to be here anymore."

Beverly averted her gaze. "I'm sorry."

She sounded genuinely sad to see him go back, and Will had to make a conscious effort to push the thought of using it for his benefit. Manipulating the grief someone felt was easy, but it was the sort of thing Hannibal would do, not him.

And yet.

He was stuck in a building he couldn't simply run out of without being tackled or shot. And his friend was missing because of him. No matter how vile the thought was, he had to try and take advantage of the sadness she was feeling.

"Beverly" he said, changing his tone slightly. "I know that there's still uncertainty in your mind about whether Dr. Lecter really framed me, but I can tell you that the reason Alana is missing is because of me. I'm not sure exactly what message he's trying to send me, but whatever it is, I need to find him, and I need to find Alana."

"You think you'll be able to do what the FBI and police can't?"

"Dr. Lecter isn't interested in random officers and agents. That's why you won't be able to find where he is. He's purposefully avoiding you, so going with a whole team after him won't solve anything. For whatever reason, he's only interested in me. And that's why it's better that I go alone."

There was still hesitation in her eyes.

"I'm not asking you to believe me" he said, "all I want is a few hours to find my friend." He paused. "Whatever's left of her, at least..."

When no answer from Beverly came, Will fell quiet, listening how the arrhythmic sound of footsteps throughout the building filled the silence. He tried hard not to think that he was asking Beverly to endanger her job for him.

"Two hours" she said eventually. "That's all I can give you."

He pressed his lips together in an attempt to hide the surprise he was feeling. "Thank you" he said, hoping it sounded sincere.

"You'll need to follow me" she said, stepping away from the table to fish for some keys from her pocket. "Going out the front of the headquarters is a sure-fire way to get both of us in trouble."

She led him through a maze of corridors and small offices that Will had never seen before. Luckily, most of them were either empty or peppered with new recruits. Beverly kept rushing through the building, and he soon found it hard to keep up with her quick pace. In only a few swift turns he felt decidedly lost, but one minute later she stopped before a steel door. She unlocked and then pushed it open. The early evening light flooded through it.

"Here" she said, holding out his car keys. "Your gun was taken away by the other agents."

Will nodded and looked out towards his car. Before he distanced himself from the building, Beverly called out to him one last time.

"Don't die, all right?" she said, "I know it's a stupid thing to say when you're going out there without a weapon, but still. Be careful."

"I will" he said, finding a smile appearing on his lips. "And thanks."

"Good luck. Now get going."

He made his way towards the car and placed the keys in the ignition. He drove off and headed towards Hannibal's home.

A few agents were heading for his office, but they wouldn't find anything there. Hannibal was too smart to leave anything of importance in his office after he had broken into it. Will tightened his hands on the steering wheel and tried to think. What was Hannibal's end game? And where did his old patient Hurley fit into it?

When no ideas made sense, Will quickly realized that he was thinking wrong. He had been considering things from the point of view of his old psychiatrist.

And he had to think like the Chesapeake Ripper.

If Hannibal was trying to kill Hurley, then he would need somewhere isolated. Somewhere quiet. He thought back to the last victims they had unearthed, in a forest not to far away from Wolf Trap. And then things connected in his head.

Hannibal wasn't leading him anywhere. He didn't need to. Because Will's secluded home made for the perfect place for a crime.

And before he became aware of it, Will had already change courses and was already on his way back home.

The last remnants of the evening light were barely visible when Will pulled the car into his drive way. With the dogs still at Alana's home under the care of a neighbor, the entire lot seemed vacant. The rustling of trees was the only sound breaking the eerie silence that had fallen.

Will killed the engine and stepped out of the car, surveying his surroundings. Despite the impending darkness he could tell there was a car parked a few yards away. He didn't recognize whose it was.

He stopped to grab the cell phone from his pocket, and then dialed Jack's number. As expected, it went straight to voice mail.

"Jack, it's me" Will said, "I know you're off somewhere being busy, so by the time you get to your phone this will probably be all over. Actually, I'm banking on that. Because there's someone in my house, I'm guessing whoever took Alana, and if I would have brought the authorities here, then I could have scared him away. So once you listen to this message I want you to send the team over. I'm not sure what you'll find, but whatever it is... it won't be good. I just want you to know that there's a box buried sixteen paces West from the shortest tree in my back yard. You'll find all you need in there."

He followed the trail up to his porch, thinking that it was ridiculous that he was walking inside without any kind of weapon. He could have looked around for a two-by-four, but there was no point. You didn't bring a knife to a gun fight, and taking someone like the Chesapeake Ripper by surprise with a piece of lumber wasn't a scenario that could ever take place.

The steps up to the porch creaked under his weight, announcing his presence to anyone that was inside. And evidently there was, because the window next to the front door had been smashed.

Will stopped before the font door, a thought popping in his head. Hannibal wasn't the type of man to vandalize a house like this. He would have found an elegant way inside or simply waited for him nearby.

Will placed a hand on the front door and pushed.

The living room was dark. But he could tell someone was inside and sitting on the sofa. When Will switched on the lights, Hurley came into view.

There were deep dark circles around his eyes, and his movements were rattled. He looked pale and sickly, as if he had the flu. But he didn't look surprised to be discovered. Will suspected that was because of the gun in his right hand.

"I thought you'd be home earlier" Hurley said, rising from the sofa. "I've been here all day."

"Did Lecter send you here?"

"Funny enough, he actually warned me away from here. I'm not sure why. Because here you are stepping into a dark room with your holster empty."

Will failed to understand why Hurley wasn't aiming the gun his way. If anything, he seemed exhausted, as if he had already been in an altercation.

"He made you kill her, didn't he?" Will asked, his eyes fixed on the weapon.

"Lecter can't make me do things I don't want. Not anymore."

But the idea that Alana was still alive was too optimistic for Will. "Then why are you here?" he asked "What do you want?"

The man walked toward him, causing Will to step back. He froze the moment Hurley took the gun and held it towards him by the muzzle.

"What I want" Hurley said, "is for you to kill me."

Will's gaze froze, his head trying to make sense of what he was hearing.

"He's manipulating you" Will said, "I don't know how, but you can't listen to him, you can't let him telling you-"

"Lecter didn't tell me anything." Hurley sighed and shook his head. "Mr. Graham, two years ago I lost my son, and ever since then things have never stopped crumbling and falling apart. My wife left me after she heard what my shrink had to say. My family believed him too and they ostracized me. They cut ties with me, every last one of them. I thought the money I had left could fill the void, but..." He shook his head again and looked at Will. "I'm not me anymore, Mr. Graham. The man standing in front of you right now is just a shadow of who he used to be."

Will took another step away. "I'm not killing you. But what you can do is turn yourself in to the police."

"And what good will that do? I know what I did. They know what I did. I'll confess, and they'll drag me though an endless trial that will end with me in a cell. I'll amount to nothing but a filled space. But if you kill me, this whole nightmare will be over in the blink of an eye. I'll be at peace, and you can simply bury me and get rid of any traces that I was ever here."

"Why me?" Will asked.

"You're a man of morals. You've been dragged down by one of the worst man I've ever met, but here you are. Still fighting. Still doing what's right. If there has to be someone to put a bullet in my skull, I would want it to be someone like you.

Hurley's arm was still outstretched, holding the gun forward, and Will found that he couldn't take his eyes off the floor. Because if he did, then he'd have to look into the face of someone whose life had been destroyed by Hannibal. And Will was scared that Hurley's face would end up looking very similar to his own if he looked too hard.

Will's voice had fallen soft as he asked the question that was on his mind. "Why didn't you just..?"

"Shoot myself?" Hurley grimaced. "I did." He shook his head for a fraction, his eyes becoming a bit wet. He then lowered the gun and used his other hand to slightly raise the left side of his shirt. An ugly wound resided under his ribs. "By all rights I should be dead by now, shouldn't? But I'm not. All I can think right now is that, if there's a God out there somewhere, He's telling me that this isn't the way I'm supposed to leave the world."

Will didn't know what to say in such an unprecedented situation. He simply anchored his eyesight away from the gun, and Hurley, trying his best to come up with something coherent to say.

"Please" Hurley said, outstretching is armed hand again.

But no matter how many times he thought it over, Will simply couldn't see himself doing it. He shook his head.

A gunshot ripped through the air behind Hurley, and in the blink of an eye, his expression changed from one of sadness, to complete calm. The serenity on his face remained, even as he toppled over.

Will scrambled to grab the gun that had fallen to the floor. Once he found it, he aimed it forwards. Hannibal walked into view with a purposeful stride.

"Firearms are so impersonal" he said, taking steps closer to Hurley's body. "One pull of the trigger and everything ends quickly."

There was no point in talking and falling into whatever mind games he had in store. And he wasn't about to waste yet another opportunity as he did back in Minnesota. Will simply took aim at Hannibal's head, and pulled the trigger.

A muffled click followed.

"Mr. Hurley stole that pistol from me before he left my home" Hannibal said. "I suppose I should have told him that it only had one bullet in the chamber. Which I can only determine he's already used."

Will let the useless gun fall limply by his side. "He wanted me to kill him."

"I figured as much. It would have been most entertaining if you would have done it. But I know that no amount of convincing could make you relent."

A small pause passed between them. Will couldn't help but look at the blood pooling on his living room floor.

"What did you do to Alana?" Will asked.

"Rest assured that she is still very much alive."

Will didn't want to believe him at first. But Hannibal wouldn't have a reason to blatantly lie about that when he was about to shoot him.

"Why?" Will asked. Because maybe, just maybe, there was a human being in the world that meant something to Hannibal.

"Because her death would mean I could no longer have someone I can use to manipulate you."

Will's hopes sank.

"I was impressed how you managed to convince her to break into my office" Hannibal said, taking a few more steps.

"How do you know it wasn't me who broke in?"

"You wouldn't have risked picking a lock unless you were absolutely certain you could do it without leaving a trace. Alana was careful but she still left plenty of clues regarding the tampering. She can be more determined than you. But also more reckless."

As Hannibal kept taking steps around his living room, Will struggled to formulate a plan in his head. He was close to the front door, but a quick dash would only result in him being shot.

"You took one of my sketches" Hannibal said, disrupting his thoughts. "I would like it back."

"I think it's safe to say that it's evidence now."

"Something can't be called evidence if it doesn't prove something."

"It links you to one of the Chesapeake Ripper's murders."

"A piece of paper with a drawing on it is hardly proper evidence to be taken into consideration."

He was right, of course. Showing Jack only a sketch wouldn't be enough to convince him, especially when the memory of the case still weighed heavy on him.

Will looked at Hannibal. "What does it feel like? Pretending to be Jack's friend when you killed his protégée?"

Hannibal glanced to his right for a moment, searching for a memory. "She was a perceptive young woman. Would have certainly become a very competent agent." He paused. "I almost felt sorry for her."

"What about Jack?"

"He was hot-headed and overconfident. Always thinking no one could shake the pedestal his students placed him on."

"So that's why you killed her? You wanted to shake his confidence?"

"I also had to protect myself from nosy protégées. Having people around who know too much can be a problem."

"If that's true, then why haven't you killed me yet?"

The smile that came over his face was so subtle that Will had almost missed it. "I think our friendship has potential for something interesting in the long run."

"Framing me isn't interesting enough?"

"I've always considered the possibility of being found out and captured. Someone who can reach the conclusion by finding clues, gathering bits and pieces and making sense of them. But you have yet to do so. You've simply stumbled into this situation because of chance, and I believe I should offer you one more opportunity to do it properly. Provided you can live long enough."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you will be reduced to a name on a list of men and women who have tried and failed."

"Like Freddie Lounds."

"Determination doesn't equal competency. A nuisance doesn't even deserve to be remembered."

Will took a few more steps away as Hannibal crossed the living room. With Hurley's body in the middle of the room they were circling each other. Will hoped he could keep it up long enough until Jack and the team would arrive.

"What about Dr. Vogler?" Will asked "Was he a nuisance too?"

"That man would have gotten himself killed sooner or later. His rudeness was unbecoming. I merely stepped in to do what had to be done."

"So that's it? Someone's a little rude and you sneak behind them to snap their neck. You think that's a fair criteria to judge people?"

"Discourtesy is passive aggressive. It suggests that the person isn't brave enough to act on the aggression he feels and yet does not want to let go of the bitterness. An indecisive individual adds nothing to the workings of society."

Will shook his head slightly. "You're not god, Dr. Lecter. You can't decide who lives or dies."

"We live in an age of disasters and chaos, Will. Our god as been absent for a long, long time."

Will had hoped that Hannibal's earlier comment regarding his distaste for fire arms would work in his favor. But the thought disappeared the moment the gun was trained on his arm. Will wasn't sure how, but the next thing he knew, he was staring at his ceiling as pain was erupting from his arm. He felt frozen by the pain, stuck in a loop where he couldn't see anything except the light trailing in front of his eyes.

But then his field of vision was invaded by Hannibal. And the gun in his hand had been replaced by a knife.

"I was hoping I could give this back to Mr. Hurley" he said, "but I suppose you could do that for me."

The knife went up and then Will heard a crunching sound in his left arm. The pain failed to register in his head as Will was too focused on the heartbeat he was feeling in his other arm. He watched with surreal fascination as the knife passed through the skin, bone and muscle of the shoulder, and was impaled into the wooden floor beneath him.

"Make sure to say hello to Alana soon" Hannibal said, when he was out of view. "I believe it's not healthy to be trapped in a fog state for too long."

The room soon fell in silence, and Hannibal's footsteps began to sound distant even when Will strained to listen. He was eventually left with nothing but the pulsating sound of his own heartbeat and the pain in his arms that was slowly but surely beginning to overwrite the adrenaline.

-o-

He adopted another stray. But it didn't surprise him. Because it looked like whenever the horrors invaded his head, he relied on the dogs. And now that the last particular horror had left him with a broken arm, a wounded shoulder, an escaped serial killed, and a friend who refused to talk to him, Will realized that seven dogs were simply not enough anymore.

Which is why he now had eight food bowls to fill. Will wondered how long it would take before his house would be filled with nothing but beds and bags of dog food.

The logical side of him told him that he should move. Somewhere far away. There was little good that still tied him to Wolf Trap anymore, and a change of scenery would do him good. Maybe somewhere a bit more sunny, close to beach.

Will still hadn't completely gotten over the wave of nausea he felt whenever he tried to eat something. It was a gradual thing. And on the night that celebrated a week since his discharge from the hospital, Will decided he should try and actually eat a proper meal.

But once the dogs began to whine and beg to be let outside, he had to relent and he went outside along with them with nothing but a sad looking sandwich on a plate.

As he sat on the porch to eat, Will heard the distinctive sound of a Jack's car.

The dogs gathered around the vehicle once the engine went silent, and Jack exited. Now that he was back being the Special Agent-in-Charge, Jack seemed different somehow. Not happier, but more determined.

As he made his way towards the house, Will could tell that Jack was looking at the sling holding his right arm, and the constant trembling of his left. But he seemed to make a conscious effort not to look upset by the sight. Will was glad. After days of frowns from the nurses, he had his fill of pity.

"How's the arm?" Jack asked once he reached the steps.

Which one? Will wanted to ask, but he resorted to simply saying "Fine".

"Alana Bloom hasn't picked up her phone at all this past week."

"I know. I don't think she'll want to talk to us for a while."

Jack settled in a deck chair next to Will. "I know she was stuck in a drug-addled fog for a few days, but I don't understand how that warrants a sudden need to drop off the grid."

"I don't think that's why she's upset" Will said, suddenly finding his sandwich inedible. "It may the fact that one of her dear colleagues turned out to be a notorious serial killer. And that he dropped by my house to shoot one of his old patients and then try to mutilate me. And that he used to feed us human meat. Not that being drugged and left completely vulnerable wouldn't upset her."

"And now she feels guilty for the whole thing just because she's the one who referred Dr. Lecter in the first place." If Jack was the kind of man who rolled his eyes, then he would have. But he settled for a shake of the head.

"I certainly would."

"Well you have an excuse to feel that way. But she's a doctor who should know better."

Will frowned. "Why are you so fixated on Alana talking to you all of a sudden?"

"We just lost one of the best consulting psychiatrists. I need to know if she can take his place or not."

Of course Jack could only think about his department and the future cases. Because looking back meant giving into guilt and feeling upset about the mess that had taken place. And about the irreversible situation his wife was in. For Jack, there was only one way he could function. If he kept his eyes forward.

And the more Will thought about it, the more it made sense. Because there he was, stuck in a moment that still sent him waking up in a sweat, and Jack was already looking ahead and ready to tackle the next big case, ready to help people. It made all the sense in the world to follow Jack and keep doing what he was good at.

Because Will didn't have an excuse to opt out. He didn't have a dying wife and he had escaped his own nightmare with only a broken arm and a bad shoulder. And while injuries could be fixed, people dying at the hands of others could not.

"We've already received a few cases. Some of them badly tangled up" Jack said, as if sensing his thoughts. He then looked at Will expectantly.

And there it was. The time to dust himself off and keep going, or cower away in his home. And there were so many objective reasons pointed him towards going forward along with Jack.

But he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"My arm is broken" Will said. "My shoulder feels shattered. I can barely eat, and it takes a case full of pills just so I can get a few hours of sleep."

Jack frowned slightly. "That hasn't stopped you before."

"I know. But this is different."

"How?"

"This time I don't want to come back."

Disappointment painted Jack's face. "You know I don't want to guilt-trip you into this."

"But you're going to try."

Jack waited for a moment, gathering his thoughts and trying to find the right words to sway him. Will expected a speech or sorts. Which is why he was surprised when Jack simply said, "You save lives."

It was so laconic, and that was why it worked so well. Because Jack was right. He was turning his back on people and hiding because he was scared. And any other day, Will would have folded right there and then. But this time he had to be selfish and think about his own situation.

"Other people save lives too" Will said.

"Not as good as you. Or as fast."

"I'm not some special little snowflake, Jack. What I do can be done by other people, just using different skills." He paused to look out into the field. "Sometimes I think that everything I do relies on luck. And I think mine ran out a week ago."

The silence that followed made Will feel nervous because Jack was only quiet when he was planning something. He could see him pushing on the guilt card until it would be too much to resist, and Will would just agree to come back on the team.

"All right" Jack said.

Will wasn't sure he had heard that right. "All right? You're not going to fight me on this?"

"I don't have to. In a few days you'll realize that you're wasting your time and skills teaching a gaggle of students that aren't even sure if they want to work in law enforcement. That's not your place. You belong with the team."

"I think the only place I really belong is here" Will said, glancing at the dogs running across the filed. "With them."

"One of these days you'll have to stop hiding from people."

"Dealing with people isn't my strongest suit. Especially when they hate me."

"You think that matters? Nobody likes anybody in there."

Will raised an eyebrow. "They like you."

"They respect me. That's different."

Will had to agree that he had a point.

"Just think on it" Jack said.

The next few minutes were spent sitting in companionable silence. Because no matter how much Will wanted to ask how things were back at home and with his wife, he knew that Jack had firmly slammed the door shut on that topic. And it wasn't because he didn't consider him a friend, but because he was scared. And the fact that someone like Jack was scared made Will feel a bit better about the monsters residing in his own head.

"You were right, you know" Jack said, breaking the silence. "We searched his house and found human meat in his freezer."

Will pushed his sandwich further away, feeling the nausea returning full-force.

"He'll be coming back. Not anytime soon, but eventually he'll catch up with us."

Will sat back on his seat. "I know."

"You don't look too worried."

"He's already framed me. Already hurt me both physically and psychologically. Tarnished my reputation. The way I see it... there's not a whole lot he can do to me anymore."

Jack looked out onto the filed. "He's creative. He'll find something."

-o-

It had been quiet some time since he had boarded a train. But the landscape passing by his window was beautiful and the people were quiet, making the trip almost enjoyable.

But there was still a thought that bothered Hannibal. The entire contents of his freezer were back home, abandoned, and most likely soon to be handled by incompetent people who wouldn't know how to properly appreciate what was in front of their noses. All that time he had put into properly storing the meat was wasted.

Still, all was not lost. Even if he had been forced to abandon his home and office, it gave him a chance to spend some time in the home he had bought in Copenhagen so many years ago. If he searched through the information he had meticulously stored in his memories, then he could remember the exact identity he had used when he bought the home. But he'd have plenty of time for that once he reached the city. Until then he could simply sit back and enjoy the scenery.

Once the train arrived in one of the stations, Hannibal turned to look out the window, his eyes following the rain pelting against the glass. And beyond the rain he saw a woman struggling to keep herself dry under her umbrella.

Hannibal leaned over to his side where his bag was, and he retrieved a small book of recipes. He leafed through the pages, every so often glancing back outside at the woman.