Grace awoke in the early hours of the following morning to the sound of beeping machines and pain protesting any movement. The world seemed blurry and out of focus, the unfamiliar surroundings doing little to ease her apprehension.
Suddenly movement in the corner of the room appeared in her peripheral vision.
"Grace, how are you feeling?"
The accent reached her ears before she had fully adjusted to her surroundings, her blinking eyes now wide open and observing the small hospital room. "Sore," she croaked, her voice barely making it to her tongue.
Hannibal lay his book down on the bedside table, standing to pass her a plastic cup of water. "That is to be expected. Can you tell me what you remember?"

Slowly the events of the night before came to mind. She had sobbed until her fatigued body could take it no longer, drifting to sleep in the back of an ambulance. She was hoping it was all a nightmare, a horrendous trick her brain played on her after something less sinister happened. That was until she reached up to the tight sensation on her forehead, feeling the stitches under the bandage that lay there. "Gideon," she uttered, sucking a sharp breath through her teeth. "Did the police get him?!"
Dr. Lecter was repositioned on his chair by the bedside, leaning forward with his forearms resting across his lap, a frown curving his mouth downwards. "I am afraid not. He was gone by the time we arrived."
Fear gripped her throat and, while the water was a welcome reprieve to her dry mouth, it did little to quell the emotion. She hesitated, her mind a tumble dryer of incoherent thoughts. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely more than a whisper. "...What now?"

The psychiatrist's lips tightened although his eyes remained soft. "The only thing I know for sure is that Agent Crawford and his colleagues have some questions." He paused, looking down at his hands before glancing back up at Grace's small frame- looking smaller still under the hospital bed sheets. Like a frightened lamb who had barely escaped the lion's teeth. "What happened… It was an act of self defense."
The woman's eyes widened, her mind refusing to revisit that particular moment. The flood of anger, fear, guilt- and other emotions she couldn't quite put a name to- stopped the memory from appearing in the forefront of her thoughts. Instead disjointed images flashed through her consciousness. The knife. Her trachea being crushed. The blood. So much blood.
She simply nodded once, unable to speak.
Dr. Lecter leaned forward, his piercing gaze glued to hers. "All fifteen times?"
Grace recoiled. She could almost feel her mind fracturing. Suddenly she was floating above the hospital bed, watching herself and Dr. Lecter. Still feeling as though this escape from herself was not enough. She needed more distance. All the distance. Thousands of miles wouldn't be enough.

He stood slowly and took the single stride to reach her bedside. "Grace…" he reached for her hand and squeezed it softly. "Come back to the room." He peered into her eyes, searching, waiting until he saw the shift in them that informed him that she had stopped dissociating. "You did nothing wrong. It was self defense. Animal instinct."
A look of puzzlement befell her when her eyes finally met his.
Dr. Lecter's expression was warm, consoling. "That gut feeling. The voice inside you. The one that had led you to driving that blade into his flesh repeatedly; it saved you. Embrace that, Grace. Learn to trust yourself."
She shook her head, averting her gaze. "But Agent Crawford- the police- Gideon- I-"
Her panicked voice was halted by the psychiatrist's gentle hushing. "You did what was right. You were brought into a perilous, grave situation. And you made it out alive. You should be pleased with yourself; I am."
Grace opened her mouth to object but no words left her lips. Instead she remained silent for a long moment, Dr. Lecter's words like waves crashing against the shores of her mind.
"My neighbour? Alexander?" she asked, concern and fear evident in her eyes.
"Safe. He has already spoken to the detectives. He told them everything that had happened- that you saved him too."
Her head rested back against the limp pillow, all the muscles in her body that she hadn't realised were tense finally relaxed into the bed.
His voice was low and comforting as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Now rest, Grace. I will tell the detectives you need some more sleep before you can talk."

The late afternoon sun peered through the cheap blinds to bring light into the small, dreary hospital room. The beeping had been silenced when Grace's vitals had stabilised and the CT scan of her brain showed nothing of concern. An indication of her drop down the clinician's priority list and thus a step closer to being discharged.

"Mom?... I know, I'm sorry… It's nothing… No, please. Please don't cry."
Grace was on the phone when Will entered the room. After uncomfortable eye contact he swiftly looked away, avoiding her gaze until she was off the phone.
"Look, I have to go. I'll call you back later."

Will waited by the end of the hospital bed, clutching a shopping bag with a popular women's clothing brand etched across it.
"Hi." The young woman could barely force her lips to curve into a smile but her eyes portrayed the relief she felt to see Will instead of one of the detectives or doctors.
"Hi. Uh, Alana-" he held up the bag as a way of explanation. "She picked up some clothes, in case you need them." He passed the bag to Grace before retreating to the chair in the corner.
Gratitude would have resulted in the woman's eyes tearing up if she hadn't already exhausted all her tears the night before. "Thank you. It means a lot… I was just on the phone to my mom, to see if she could drop me in some of my clothes but... she's- well, her." She gave him a small appreciative smile.
"I'll pass your thanks on to Alana." He nodded, briefly meeting her gaze before looking at the dressing on her forehead. "How are you feeling?"
"Like shit," Grace laughed humourlessly.
Will exhaled a chuckle. "I'd imagine so."

A moment of silence drifted between them.
"Will, about last night… The whole… Crying thing… I just- I want to say sorry. It's not usually how I- I wasn't really-"
Will held up a hand to silence her. "Don't. No need to apologise."
Her eyes moved from his sincere gaze to her hands which were now fidgeting anxiously.
"I was just speaking to Jack- uh, Agent Crawford- before I came in. He's happy with the information he has from your conversation earlier. He also seems to finally be seeing clearly when it comes to you." Regret flashed in his eyes; in Will's mind, Grace had been treated like a criminal far too long. "He said to tell you that you no longer need to go to the station for additional questioning. Once you get the all clear from here, you can go home."
"Great," Grace chirped, although the enthusiasm in her voice didn't quite reach her eyes.
Will's brow furrowed, a look of concern moving across his face. "They have officers camped outside twenty-four-seven now. You'll be safe there."
"I know. I just… Dealing with my mother's prying questions and 'what will the neighbours think' rants isn't exactly… ideal."
"Do you have anyone else you can stay with?"
Grace shrugged nonchalantly, trying to ignore the pain that simple movement caused. "No. I'll be fine though. I'll figure something out."
Will frowned, hesitating before speaking. "I don't want to… scare you, but Abel Gideon won't…" He paused, deliberating his words. "I don't think it is safe for you to be alone right now."

"She won't be." Dr Lecter's voice quipped as he entered the room holding a cardboard cup holder with 3 take away drinks perched inside. "I discussed it with Agent Crawford. We feel, given the dangers that exist, you shouldn't stay at your home or anywhere alone. Not until Abel Gideon is apprehended." Knowing the others' preferred orders, he handed Will a tea and Grace a latte, keeping the americano for himself.
"I can look after myself," the young woman argued while holding the coffee between both hands, allowing the warmth to soothe her aching muscles.
Will looked alarmed by this idea but Hannibal spoke first.
"With all due respect, Miss Mason, when you were last left alone you went out to a bar, became intoxicated and made yourself an easy target. With more therapy, perhaps…"
Panic flashed across Grace's eyes. "No. Nuh-uh. Nope. I am not getting locked up in a psych unit. I am not crazy! I just made a mistake!"
Will stood. "With all due respect, Dr. Lecter, I have to agree with Grace here. I don't think a psychiatric hospital would be the safest place for her right now."
The psychiatrist nodded in agreement. "You misunderstand me. What we discussed was that Grace should continue these sessions with myself." His gaze moved to hers, full of sympathy. "In the last twenty-four hours alone you have experienced a significant amount of trauma. It would be reckless and foolish of me to pass off your care to another colleague at such a pivotal time. Therefore, with your permission, I would like to continue our work together. For additional safety, Agent Crawford suggested you should stay at my home until Abel Gideon is within their custody."
The woman exhaled a laugh, shaking her head. "I can't ask you for that."
"You didn't; Agent Crawford did. It would allow us to continue our work without the risk of you travelling back and forth to my office. It is a matter of practicality and safety- and I am in agreement with him. Of course, officers would still monitor your family home so they will remain protected. Perhaps even more so without you there."

His last sentence was the deciding factor for Grace. After what happened to Emily, and what was narrowly avoided with her neighbour… The safest place for her loved ones was far, far away from her.

"Good morning, Dr. Lecter." Grace greeted brightly on entering the kitchen. It had been 5 days since the incident, 3 days since being discharged from the hospital. This was the first day everything didn't ache as soon as she awoke.
"Good morning, Grace." He watched as she went to grab an apple from his fruit bowl. He stepped away from the sink and tapped her on the shoulder before pointing to the table in the dining room where two plates of exquisitely prepared breakfast lay in wait. "I think you should have a nutritiously adequate breakfast this morning, don't you?"
The woman glanced up at him and knew by the expression on his face that there was no point in arguing.
"Thank you," she said politely before moving into the room to take a seat at the table.
"My pleasure," he responded after following her in, pouring orange juice out for them both before taking a seat across from her.

After a few bites in silence, Grace chimed up. "This is delicious."
"I'm glad you like it. And I am pleased to see you have more energy today; you seem on the mend."
She nodded slowly. "I do feel a bit better."
Dr. Lecter placed his cutlery down and watched her carefully. "Perhaps you will stop avoiding me now so we can continue our work."
Grace let out an uncomfortable laugh. "I haven't been avoiding you."
"No? For someone I am sharing my home with, I see you less than the postman."
She rolled her eyes as she took a sip of orange juice. "That's a tad dramatic."
The psychiatrist laced his fingers together and rested his hands on the table in front of him. "I disagree." He let the silence dwell between them, allowing the discomfort of confrontation pry Grace from her attempts at deflection.
"I… just have nothing to say. Nothing to talk about. I don't see the point in having a session."
He smiled knowingly. "You don't believe that."
She averted her gaze and turned her attention to finishing her breakfast.

After some moments of quiet eating, she stood. "Thank you for breakfast."
"You're most welcome." Dr. Lecter stood up too, folding his napkin and placing it beside his plate. He then moved from the dining room into his living room.
Grace followed curiously but sighed as he took a seat on one of two opposing arm chairs.
"I believe now is as good a time as any." He gestured to the other chair expectantly.
"I told you- I have nothing to talk about. You're wasting your time."
The psychiatrist leaned back into his seat and crossed his legs. "Indulge me."
After a moment of hesitation the woman begrudgingly sat down, her eyes narrowed on the other man. "See? Look, I'm sitting. Indulging. Still not talking."
He simply blinked and waited patiently.
"You do remember what started this whole thing, right? I'm not an actual patient of yours- not really. I wasn't actually depressed or suicidal or in need of therapy."
Dr. Lecter did not miss a beat. "You feigned mental illness to sate your curiosity about your serial killer grandfather and have since become the obsession of an escaped killer who brutally murdered your only friend and placed you into a situation where you had to kill someone to defend yourself."
Grace's breathing became shaky. "Yeah… Still not a real patient."
"On the contrary, Miss Mason, I believe you are the patient who is in most dire need of my help."

More silence followed; uncomfortable for Grace while Dr. Lecter remained undeterred.
Her hands were fidgeting in her lap as she spoke. "My stitches."
He quirked a brow. "What about them?"
"They're… Gideon did them. They're due to be taken out today. The uh, the doctors… When I got to the hospital… I overheard them. They admired his work. Said it was 'immaculate' and that no scar would be left… I asked them to take the stitches out, change them, do it again… They said to leave them in; that taking them out would do more harm than good. To get them removed after five days." Her gaze stayed glued to her hands.
Dr. Lecter spoke softly. "Would you like me to remove them?"
She nodded wordlessly and remained seated while he fetched his tools.

When he returned, Grace attempted a smile. "You just know how to do everything, huh?"
He chuckled as he poured rubbing alcohol into a small ceramic bowl. "While I chose to specialise in psychiatry, my training was quite extensive. I believe I can handle removing a few stitches."
"I don't doubt it." She laughed- this time genuinely.
Kneeling down in front of her chair, Dr. Lecter dipped a soft cloth into the disinfectant, soaking the material before dabbing it gently over the wound on her forehead. Grace flinched away at first but swiftly took a deep breath and allowed him to get to work. She watched fascinated as he lit a candle on the table beside her and began flaming a small pair of scissors.
"This may hurt a bit. I will have to pull at the stitches to cut them. Try not to lean away as I do."
She nodded and braced herself as he reached up to her forehead. "Ouch!" she sucked in a breath, cursing under it.
"I did warn you," he said sternly, one hand moving to hold the back of her neck when she tried to pull away.
"Sorry, sorry. I'll stay still," she appeased, becoming statue-like as he began cutting the thread.

A moment of silence ensued.
"Why did he do it?" she asked suddenly, agony in her voice.
"Gideon?" He cut the last stitch and moved to dab her wound with the cloth once more.
"Why did he do all this? Why did he hurt me then stitch me up? Why did he bring that man there just to…. Why?!"
Dr. Lecter frowned at her questions but finished cleaning the wound before placing the cloth and scissors down on the table. "Did he say anything to you at the time?"
Grace swallowed a lump in her throat, struggling to get the words out. "He kept saying… That we have a lot in common… That 'fate' brought us to-," she shook her head, cutting herself off.
The psychiatrist paused for a moment before speaking again. "He seems to have a kind of… affection for you." He gathered the tools and placed them back into a brown leather bag. Once finished, he moved back to his seat, sitting on the edge of it now to lean closer to Grace. "When discussing your grandfather before- when you, Will and I were attempting to make sense of his motive: why he became more brazen, why he left victims to be found after successfully hiding for so long… You suggested loneliness could be the reason. I believe this could also be true for Abel Gideon."
She shook her head, clearly perturbed by it all. "But why me?"

Dr. Lecter paused in thought for a moment. He then asked, "How did it feel, Grace?"
The woman glanced up at him, confused.
"When you killed that man? When you sliced into him, not once but fifteen times. How did it feel?"
Grace visibly retracted, her arms wrapping around to cradle her own torso as her gaze glazed over.
The psychiatrist rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned closer. "Don't go inside, Grace. You must fight your instinct to retreat into yourself. Stay with me."
Her brow furrowed as she considered his words, although she was already a third entity now, watching the encounter unfurl through a dense, cold fog. After what could have been minutes or days, words finally left her lips. "I would like to be excused, please."
Dr. Lecter nodded then stood. He then watched as Grace made her way upstairs to her room without another word.

Dr. Lecter had already slipped on his coat, car keys in hand, and was about to open his front door when there was a knock on it. Irked by the interruption, he swiftly opened the door to find Will Graham standing on the other side.
"Will. I wasn't expecting you."
The FBI profiler shook his head. "No, you weren't." He noticed the rushed tone in Hannibal's usually polite voice. "I probably should have called first."
Dr. Lecter nodded. "I was just on my way out."
Will looked past him into the house. "I am actually here to see Grace."
The psychiatrist sighed and stepped aside, allowing the other man to come in. "I'm afraid you've come at a bad time." He shut the door behind him.
Concern flashed in the younger man's eyes. "Why? Is something wrong?"
"I am not entirely sure. Grace seemed fine this morning and knows not to go out without company. When I finished with my online appointments and went upstairs to check on her this evening, she wasn't in her room."
Will's nostrils flared. "How did you let her get out past you?!"
Dr. Lecter concealed his annoyance. "I did not let her." For the first time he noticed Will was carrying something. "What's in the bag?"
An eye roll. "It's something for Grace."
Hannibal stayed silent to encourage further explanation.
"It's just… Her dress. That night. It was soaked in blood and kept as evidence. I got her a new one - the same as the previous, with Alana's help- just so she didn't have to… lose everything that night."

The psychiatrist studied the other man's face for a moment, noticing his disheveled appearance and the dark circles under his eyes.
Will shook his head. "What did you do?"
"What did I do?"
"Yes, you!" he insisted. "You pushed her! You moved her into your house as your new project and prodded her psyche. She wasn't ready to cope with all this!"
Dr. Lecter smoothed his waistcoat and waited a beat before replying. "Will, I think you may be projecting your feelings about being employed by the FBI onto Grace. And perhaps you are becoming too involved in Miss Mason's case." His eyes were filled with concern as he met the other man's gaze. "Will, have you been sleeping?"
"Don't," he warned, his eyes defiant. "Gideon could have her right now," he continued, an edge to his voice. "What are you going to do about that?"
The psychiatrist spoke matter-of-factly. "I have informed the authorities. And I am about to drive to her home to see if she went there."
Will let out a scornful laugh. "Let's hope that wipes your conscience clean."

With that, the younger man turned away and moved quickly from the house back to his car, already letting his mind wander to what Grace could be thinking and where she could have gone.