The cascade of cold blood was welcoming. It pummeled Will's hot skin in slow motion, going everywhere all at once but at a leisurely crawl.

Bracing his palms against the white tile of the shower walls, the Omega bowed his head against the red tide and allowed it to overcome him. It was silent. Not a splash was heard but he felt everything in high definition as if this distorted reality was trying to make up for its lack of sound.

This was what it was like, surrendering to a force you could not control.

Grotesque and glistening, the fluid gore dashed against the tile and sliding glass door like a murder scene, encasing him in a crimson box. It gathered around his ankles and ran down his body in dark rivulets, saturating his hair and invading his ears. The cold was the only thing that gave any relief whatsoever; nothing else could quell the raw heat that still coursed through him but the anger that had previously accompanied it was steadily ebbing away like the blood swirling down the drain.

He was beginning to think he had overreacted. With eyes shut he leaned against the freezing tile, not caring that he was breaking out in goosebumps. The way he had parted ways with the Alpha, he felt like he deserved it.

In between bouts of clarity the heat's fever still gripped him and made rational thinking difficult. Hannibal's face was stuck to the front of his mind which was even more distracting. Yes, the Alpha had discovered that he was in his most vulnerable time but had Jack really disclosed more than that? Would he have so readily given up the secret about his past?

Another wave of warmth made him groan despite the cold rush but the wheels of clear thinking were turning and the sanity felt good. Parting his lips amidst the flow, he allowed the blood to stream over his open mouth and he tasted copper.

Perhaps Jack had not even mentioned the scars. Perhaps Hannibal didn't even know...maybe it was possible...

Will felt rather than heard the wendigo rise slowly behind him and was filled with a stinging anticipation. He had known it was coming. Like the knowledge of an approaching storm without seeing the heavy, ominous clouds or hearing rolling thunder in the distance, it prickled at the back of his neck and made his head ache.

His Omegan nature kept him frozen in place, unable to move in the creature's presence, and he let his head to fall to the side in submission with closed eyes. Giving in was soothing, calming. The promise of placation and protection followed, along with the hope of reward for obedience.

The cool rush hit his neck and shoulder, redirecting the blood in an almost arterial spray.

The wendigo smelled like Hannibal, sweet aged whiskey and comforting musk. An undertone of rotting fruit lied beneath, however. It was sour, poisonous. This seemed wrong but Will suddenly felt claw-like fingers drag up through his soaked curls which promptly made him forget his concern.

Warmth flared at the touch and his hips jerked involuntarily. Huffing at the sensation, his eyes rolled back and what shreds of clarity he had left were washed away by cold blood. This was what he wanted; something to show that he was worthy, prized, a mark that would show all others that if they touched him there would be consequences.

Still with excruciating slowness, he felt one sharp hand take hold of his shoulder and the other pull him to the side by his hair and knew the wendigo was rearing behind him with malicious intent to bite. The blood pouring from the showerhead turned black as Will felt its grip tighten, and the silent rush suddenly became a roar in his ears. Apprehension made his heart jump into his throat but he could do nothing.

"Tell me what you want, Will," the demon mocked in a twisted, contorted version of Hannibal's voice.

An unknown answer formed in his mouth but before he could release it the wendigo lunged and struck.

Will snapped back to the present moment with a startled cry. He found himself on his shower floor under a freezing spray that was steadily turning him into a human popsicle.

Hannibal's face stayed burned in the forefront of his mind, as did the sensation of the wendigo's hand in his hair and teeth in his flesh. It was a moment before reality returned completely.

The visions were getting worse.

Hastily turning off the water and blinking to get the image of blood out of his eyes, he stumbled out of the stall on legs that were stiff with cold and managed to get a towel around himself. Shit, how long had he been in there? His teeth had started up a clacking protest and he couldn't stop shivering. Maybe he should get his head checked.

That got him thinking about Hannibal.

While he dried himself as quickly as he could, he wracked his brain trying to remember what he had said to the Alpha before somehow getting up to the bathroom to have a vampire's wet dream. It was like trying to trudge through thick mud; the cold seemed to have significantly slowed his thought processes. The last thing he remembered was dropping his phone. The rest was a blank. This losing-time thing was becoming more than irritating.

Quickly donning sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt from his bedroom, Will made his way back downstairs. His head was already beginning to resume its sick pounding but he did his best to ignore it.

His dogs had once again gathered in the den and looked up as their master entered the room, obviously still wary as to if he was going to start shouting again. Feeling slightly guilty but otherwise determined, he continued his search after giving each of them a quick pat.

A sweep of the entrance area provided no clues. Moving over to the front door, he could have sworn he dropped it on the - oh, no.

The terribly vivid memory of their phone conversation flashed to Will's mind as if he were experiencing it a second time. The awful smothering heat had claimed his mind. He barely recalled the words he used but knew they had been fueled by rage and were uttered with crazed righteousness and contempt.

He had yelled at Hannibal without provocation, snarled hurtful things to the one who was trying to help, and then politely ended things by hanging up on him. Distress flooded his system as he remembered something he had said.

"Just leave me alone."

Jesus. Hannibal probably had whiplash from their little talk. The memory alone was enough to make him wince but here was the kicker - his lungs seized in his chest as he remembered picking up the phone after he had dropped it, yanking the front door open, and flinging the thing outside as hard as he could.

There was a brief pause where Will stood gaping numbly at what he had done. Of all the stupid things that had ever crossed his mind, this one topped the charts. Omegas simply did not treat their Alphas with such little regard and then chuck their phones into the wild in a perfect example of rage-quitting. What the fuck was wrong with him?

As his addled hormones begged for him to contact Hannibal and apologize as soon as possible, to grow fucking wings if he had to, he looked out the front door's half-moon window into the cold snowy afternoon beyond. A blanket of white interspersed with tufts of dead scrub looked back, daring him to come out and freeze his balls off in search for the device he had determinedly pitched from the house an hour previous.

Swearing under his breath, Will knew he couldn't make things right without the stupid thing and started pulling on his winter boots and jacket. The materials were rough against his sensitive skin and he gritted his teeth, ignoring the gathering prickling heat as he stepped out into the frosty air.

XXX

In his elegant kitchen, Hannibal was rhythmically sharpening an exquisite Japanese cleaver. Back and forth he ran the blade across the whetting stone, his practiced strokes precise and even. Its handsome kin were laid out neatly on the granite countertop, waiting their turn.

Amid the ring of metal on stone, a delicate piano quintet was drifting through the air, its melody playful and lighthearted but he hardly heard the notes. They may as well have been nonexistent.

Behind the Alpha's calm countenance and smooth movements, his mind was a dark and tangled mess of distress.

The cadence of the knife was the only real sound as he imagined luring Alana Bloom to his house, preparing her a romantic dinner, getting close to her. The subtle scent of wildflowers, not fresh pine, would be flitting around him and her eyes, so unlike the big baby blues he yearned for, would follow him with intrigue instead.

Usually the premeditation and planning of murder was something he enjoyed, was inspired by, but the idea of seducing someone that did not fall under the category of Will Graham was like swallowing vinegar.

He frowned as he worked, knowing it would have to take a great deal of mental effort to convince her he was interested, let alone persuade her into his bed. Drugs were definitely going to be involved. In fact, they were a necessity and he spared a glance over to the three little pills sitting innocently on the counter. Nothing serious, just enough to induce deep sleep and keep her securely in that state until morning. Crushed to powder and mixed with wine, she would never know.

His stomach gave an unpleasant twinge as he realized he was probably going to need a little blue pill as well to accomplish what he needed to tonight, and wasn't that just charming. Maybe he wouldn't be able to perform at all; an unfortunate circumstance that would compromise a much-needed homicide.

Letting out an restless huff, he stopped sharpening before he wore the beautiful blade down to nothing and set the instruments aside. This position was...difficult. Aside from dealing with a quashed libido, the urge to once again speed to the Omega and beg for his forgiveness was incredibly tempting. For a moment he wondered how many miles he would put on his car if he gave into each of these impulses to drive across the state for that male. Probably quite a few.

No matter; all the longing in the world wasn't going to make him risk losing more of Will's regard for him. He would stay planted in Baltimore until given express permission otherwise. If Will wanted to talk or see him for any reason he would be the one to initiate contact, not the other way around. He had also explicitly expressed that he didn't want help, so calling was absolutely out of the question.

Hannibal was dialing Will's number before he even realized his phone was in his hand. It had swiftly materialized out of thin air and wasn't that convenient?

He didn't even know what he was going to say. All he knew was that he needed to hear Will's voice if he was going to stay sane through this murderous scheme. He felt like he was underwater and struggling to reach the surface where a life raft was waiting. Where Will was waiting. Somehow if he got the chance to speak with him and explain himself everything would be alright.

The Alpha started pacing his kitchen as he listened to the ring of the line, anxiety making his chest tight.

It rang once, twice, four times..

A few cruel moments of anticipation passed before he heard the anticlimactic robotic message directing him to leave a voicemail. What was he expecting? Will had probably seen whose number it was and ignored it.

Far from dissipating, the pain in his chest deepened at the thought of his Omega turning away from him. His life raft was gone and he was sinking back into the cold void.

With a dark expression Hannibal slipped his phone back into his pocket and returned once more to his knives.

XXX

Will could have sworn he heard his phone ringing.

He had spent the better part of twenty minutes scouring the area in front of the house where his phone could have ended up after he had righteously launched it from his sight, but he was coming up empty-handed. The snow was deep and uneven and the underbrush was hiding it well, wherever it was.

While his dogs played and barked happily around him, the Omega was a bitter sight as he stomped through the snow at an almost ninety-degree angle to the ground. All he needed was a magnifying glass and a deerstalker cap on and he would have fit the profile of Holmes nicely.

Panting and sweating under the influence of his heat, he was almost in a detached state of determination driven by the need to communicate with his Alpha. Guilt was gnawing at him over the things he had said. He had spat out the unkind words with an intensity he had never felt before and he could only imagine what it would have been like on the receiving end. Hannibal's handsome face, crestfallen and withdrawn, haunted him.

Every time he thought he saw a dark rectangular shape his heart would leap into his throat and he would lunge at it, only to discover that it was merely a rock or dense clump of grass. He was getting desperate.

It was also really fucking cold. His winter jacket did its job well enough but wisps of chilling wind still got through and served as tiny punishments for how long it was taking him to find the damned thing.

After a few more minutes of searching and then triumphantly pouncing on nothing more than an oddly-shaped bit of bark, Will was close to admitting that he needed to stop for a break. There was a knot in his lower back and his skin was flushed with prickling heat despite the cold; another wave was coming and it was only a matter of time before he succumbed to the symptoms.

He straightened with his breath streaming out before him and tried to ignore the deep, empty ache in his chest. His direct line to Hannibal was lost. The only other option would have been through his laptop which was currently locked inside his office at the Bureau; not entirely helpful. If he drove to Baltimore to get it he might as well just visit Hannibal at his house while he was at it -

The distant sound of his ringtone carried on a gust of air, coming from somewhere behind him. He whipped around in shock, hope surging. Was that real? He took a few unsure steps forward and cocked his head like a dog, not entirely certain if what he heard was genuine or merely another fantasy of his over-heated imagination.

When the tone sounded again he almost fell over in his haste to locate its source.

In spite of their last conversation where Will had been less than polite towards his Alpha, his instincts screamed at him that it was Hannibal on the other end, ready to forgive and forget with open arms. Alive with purpose, Will scrambled in the direction he thought it was coming from, scanning the ground's surface and swiveling his head like an owl.

Where the fuck was it? His panting intensified and panic set in as he heard it ring a third time. It sounded like it was coming from a different direction now; the wind was playing games with him.

"Come on, come on!" he hissed, his stance like a drunkard's as he staggered around his front yard.

When it rang a fourth time he uttered a distressed moan; that was the last time it would sound. The phone had assigned the caller to voicemail. His chance was gone.

Refusing to concede however, Will continued rummaging around in the snow with a fierce determination. It couldn't be that far away; it was obviously within hearing range and only a matter of time until it showed up. Talking with Hannibal was now the utmost importance.

He hunted until his fingers and toes were numb and his dogs were gathered on the porch waiting to be let back inside. The wind was getting more serious and dark clouds were collecting greedily over the sun, making way for an autumn storm.

Dizzy from going in circles and feverish, Will concluded that if he stayed out here much longer he would probably perish. That wouldn't do at all in finding his phone or talking with Hannibal and he cringed at the idea of someone finding his stiff, frozen corpse on the front lawn. Therefore with a heavy heart and one last look behind him, he abandoned his search and returned to the house

XXX

Alana Bloom smiled secretly to herself as she reclined in a full tub with mountains of bubbles surrounding her. Her hair was done up in a high chignon to keep it out of the water and only the tops of her knees and shoulders could be seen amidst the thick foam.

Her bathroom was a modern Victorian-style hybrid; sleek mirrors and iron fixings were softened by plush white towels stacked in neat piles while a vanity housing a collection of scented soaps stood by the detached sink. The final touches of dim lighting and flickering tea candles created the perfect pre-date atmosphere.

Thoughts of Hannibal Lecter drifted around the Beta's head, much like the sweet aroma of lavender in the humid air.

The Alpha's call had come out of the blue. As colleagues they had spoken over the phone before, though rarely, and their topics of conversation had been purely professional. When he invited her to dinner at his home she had been surprised but quietly pleased and accepted with a fluttering feeling in her stomach. The man was truly impressive both physically and intellectually, and any Beta would bend over backwards to spend an evening with him.

To Alana, a fiercely intelligent FBI consultant and psychology professor, it was difficult to find someone who matched her on her level. Many Alphas were too overprotective for her liking; she valued her independence and found the constant check-ins and defensive behavior around other males irritating. Others couldn't stimulate her mentally. The consequences of this were many years of being single and more than a few lonely nights with only a glass of locally-crafted beer and an Agatha Christie novel to keep her company.

She was more than looking forward to spending time with Hannibal.

Will was the only issue, the only factor that made her secret smile even out into a thoughtful line. Despite his insistence that there was nothing between him and Hannibal (despite the Alpha's scarf), Alana couldn't help but suspect that her friend might be harboring feelings for the psychiatrist. As she slid down deeper into the hot water the thought that Will might be injured in some way by this interaction hung in the back of her mind like a tattered banner in a battlefield, a warning.

She didn't want to overstep any bounds but she was also an adult who could make her own choices . Besides, Will had mentioned nothing of an attachment and it was obvious Hannibal wasn't reciprocating with any sort of romantic regard as he had invited her, a female Beta, to dinner. Bonded or courting Alphas simply didn't invite unmated Betas to their houses for one-on-one meals. That would be considered inappropriate and incredibly disrespectful, both of which Hannibal was the opposite.

At that thought, the little smile returned again. She had been singled out which was incredibly flattering and the urge to preen for the male was irresistible. Hence the strongly-perfumed bath. It was laced with pheromone oils to naturally enhance her scent and she was already planning her outfit for the night; probably something red.