Hannibal was a little thrown off as the front door was slammed shut and a frantic looking Will stomped in and past the two dogs that raced to him. Hannibal tilted his head to the side, placing his pencil down on his sketch, meeting eyes hidden behind the shine of glasses.

"There hasn't been anything weird around here, has there?" Will asked, out of breath, hand motioning around the room, his other hand taking the dining table for balance. "You've been keeping the curtains drawn and most of the lights off, right? You haven't been going outside longer than to let the dogs out?"

"I have not done anything that has gone against the rules we set in place," Hannibal agreed with a small nod, his hands folded on the table.

Will licked his lips with a nod, a hand going into his hair. "And you haven't seen anyone lurking around?"

"Lurking?" Hannibal asked, brows furrowed. "As in...?"

"Jack Crawford or Zeller or Price or anyone from the FBI," Will threw out, voice frazzled, hands up in the air. "I-I don't know. Anyone?"

"Not that I have noticed," Hannibal said slowly, glancing around the room as if there would magically appear the person who Will was speaking of. "It is very silent here during the day. Did something happen at work?"

Will gave a nod, nose scrunched up in distaste. "Jack might know."

"Know what?" Hannibal pushed, not sounding concerned in the slightest. In fact, Will was more than a little pissed that the man went back to his sketching.

"About you being here. He saw me eating my lunch."

"There was nothing wrong with you eating lunch."

Will growled through his teeth and Hannibal paused, pencil rolling between his fingers as he looked up at Will with raised eyebrows. "He knows you made it. He suspects me of tampering with the evidence. He won't outright say it, but he implied it. Heavily."

"I am not sure what it is you are expecting me to do."

Will's knees buckled with another groan and he threw his head back, hands going to his face. "I don't know," he replied. "I have no idea what I'm expecting you to do. I have no idea what I need to do. I don't know anything anymore. All I know is that I have to protect you and if Jack suspects that I know where you are, then he's going to come down on this place like a smiting from God."

Will's hands lowered onto the table and he used it for balance, head dropped between his shoulders as he exhaled sharply. He shook his head and Hannibal wanted to know exactly what thoughts were running through the empath's mind.

"Maybe I'm overreacting." One of Will's hands rubbed at his jaw and he sighed. "Maybe I'm-"

"One should always trust one's first instinct," Hannibal advised. "I can leave Will. I'm obviously causing a great deal of stress. And-"

"I don't want you to leave," Will interrupted, waving away Hannibal's words. "I'm not going to make you leave."

"Will, I am-"

"Please don't leave me." Will's voice shattered. "Not you too. Please."

Hannibal gave a small nod at the fragileness. How any others had left Will, even just recently... Hannibal could drop the subject. He had no intention of leaving the empath in the slightest if he didn't have to. "Then what do we do to fix this? I'm not sure I could go any further underground than if I were underground."

"I don't know," Will whispered. "Maybe you do need to go. You're right and I'm just being selfish in keeping you here."

"Not in the slightest." Hannibal leaned back in his chair, hand over his mouth in thought. "We will just need to be more careful. I will continue to lay low and you need to stop breaking into the labs to mess with evidence."

"But-"

"No buts, Will." Hannibal reached out and took the wrist of Will's hand, fingers gently caressing over the pulse pounding there. "This isn't sustainable if we continue on the way we are. You need to be safer and smarter with what you are doing for the FBI. There is such a thing as keeping your enemies too close."

Will gave a small nod. "You're right." His free hand rubbed at his eyes under his glasses before he pulled them off and tossed them onto the table. "You're right."

"I do appreciate the efforts though."

Will gave a small, weak smile and a forced burst of laughter, hands fidgeting so much that Hannibal released his hold on Will. "What were you drawing?"

Will seemed decently relaxed after that incident, Hannibal noted in the days that followed. As relaxed as one could be, he supposed, though it didn't last as long as Hannibal would have liked. Apparently Jack hadn't bothered Will at work and Hannibal had been more than careful when he was at home during the day. The dogs only went out when they absolutely needed it and Hannibal kept all the lights off until it got too dark to see with the curtains drawn.

"I'm working later tonight," Will announced into the quiet of the room, a tenseness to his voice that hadn't left it even after Hannibal had been reassured that Will was just fine. Hannibal gave a small hum in answer, not looking up from the book that was in his hands. Will glanced from the toy that he was playing tug of war with Izzy with, eyebrows furrowed. "Are you ignoring me?"

"Not at all Will," Hannibal answered dully, attention obviously still in the pages of whatever book he had deemed interesting enough from Will's sparse collection. Will let go of the toy and Izzy raced off to her bed with a playful snarl, settling beside a sleeping Winston. Will watched as Hannibal turned a page and Will sucked on his teeth, a flicker of jealousy in his veins when he knew perfectly well there really was no reason for there to be.

"Look at me, Hannibal."

Hannibal inhaled deeply and took his time, marking where he was in his book before his eyes flickered up to Will briefly and then returned down to his book, his finger lifting back up as he continued reading. "Yes, Will?"

Maybe Will hadn't settled down. Hannibal could smell the anxiety that filled the air with an acidic twang and for some reason it made his inside squirm with wanting to see how far Will could be pushed before he snapped. Will was going to become so strung out that he snapped and Hannibal would rather it were at home where Will was safe and Hannibal could control it over Will breaking at work where he could possibly give them away in front of Jack. Will had a way with letting words slip out when he was frazzled, when too many emotions were there for him to pick up on.

Will rose to his feet, hands clenching and unclenching as he tried not to take it personally that the book was far more interesting than he was. He wasn't sure he wanted to deal with this at the moment. He felt like he had been pulled tight like a fraying rope that was about to snap. He hadn't been sleeping and he hadn't been able to eat more than a few bites, Jack's words continuing to rumble through his head, mocking him, keeping him on the very edge of his seat and ready to jump into action at the single movement towards Hannibal. It was exhausting.

And that wasn't right. Will knew exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted to poke the beast. He wanted the monster's attention on him. The wendigo belonged to him and would do exactly as he said. Especially if he was going to such lengths to make sure the man was safe. Will wouldn't be ignored. Not now, not ever.

"Hannibal."

Hannibal was slightly surprised at the darkness that inflected his tone, enough so that his eyes flickered up once more to find the gentleness that was normally over Will's features replaced by a harshness that Hannibal had only seen on a handful of occasions, one of those being the night he killed Randel Tier, another when they had taken down Francis Dolarhyde, and again on the roof of Hall Mansion, though that one was a bit of a blur.

Hannibal's eyes lowered back to his book, able to nearly see the fuse that had been lit on Will that was going to send Will over the edge. An edge that he very clearly needed to get over before it turned into a much larger cliff and Hannibal knew how badly neither of them needed another tumble.

"Dr. Lecter."

Hannibal's lips pursed and he turned the page of his book, though he had lost interest in it quite a time ago. "You only call me that when you're upset with me or trying to make a point. So, which is it Will?"

"Put the book down," Will ordered, voice low with a deep anger.

Hannibal slowly obeyed, memorizing which page he had been on and closing the book quietly, setting it on the side table, next to the lamp. Hannibal folded his hands in his lap and his eyes finally met Will, whose jaw was clenched tightly.

"Don't grind your teeth, dear boy," Hannibal warned.

"Do not tell me what to do," Will hissed, hands now fists. Blue eyes were aflame and Hannibal watched him with a curious glint to his own eyes, head tipped up, showing he was fully invested in Will now. "What was so interesting about the book?"

"The Song of Achilles," Hannibal replied. "An erotic retelling of the Iliad."

Will's eyes narrowed. "You're reading gay porn about Greek Gods?"

"Your wife owns gay porn about the Greek Gods. Surely you wouldn't buy something of the sort."

That only seemed to make Will's anger deepen, the vein in his temple throbbing. "Don't you dare mention that woman."

"What's wrong Will?" Hannibal said, his voice tilted enough to be taunting, but not enough to outright be insulting.

"What's wrong?" Will echoed back with a small nod. "What's wrong? I-I don't know." It was sarcastic and sounded like it was being torn from his mouth. "I'm about to lose my mind because things have been too good and it's going to come crashing back down. I know it is, because nothing is ever good for me! It never stays! So I might as well make everything burn while I still have control over it."

"You cannot control fire once it is set, Will," Hannibal warned, eyes trailing over the stiff line of Will's body.

"But I can pick when to light the match and a match sounds pretty good right now." Will began pacing the floor, hands unclenching and clenching again before they went to his curls, shaking them out and making them wilder than they already were, a halo of coffee hues with a hint of cinnamon.

"Will-"

"Shut up!" Will ordered, his pacing coming to a stop and causing Hannibal's mouth to open a little in shock at the blatant harshness that was there. He quickly closed it, not taking the words to heart, knowing Will didn't necessarily mean them, but the sting is his chest didn't dissipate. "I do not want your infinite wisdom, humble opinion or your pity at the moment."

"Then what do you want?"

"To feel powerful, to feel in control. To know the outcome of this game that I am playing."

"And ordering me around is that control?" Hannibal pointed out, forming it as a question to try to bring it to light rather than shove it harshly out of the darkness. Will went still and his face fell. "My mind is filled with cataclysm and apocalypse: I wish for earthquakes, eruptions, flood. Only that seems large enough to hold all of my rage and grief. I want the world overturned like a bowl of eggs, smashed at my feet." Will knew that voice. He was quoting something, though Will wasn't exactly sure what he was quoting. Hannibal tapped the book in answer and Will gave a small nod in understanding. "Does that sum it up?"

"Accurately," Will grumbled. "That does not change the fact that I want your eyes to stay on me; I want your attention on me. I am more important than that stupid book, Hannibal." Hannibal tipped his head to the side like he had so many times before while in therapy, a silent asking for a further explanation and Will felt his blood boil. "I don't need to justify myself to you."

"I didn't say you did."

Will glared, fingers twitching as his side. "Get on your knees."

Hannibal's head tilted in the opposite direction with a raise of his eyebrows, though he couldn't deny that he liked the order in Will's tone. It was fierce and commanding. But Hannibal had to push. He liked to push, to play, but he also knew that if he obeyed then Will wasn't going to get the breath that he was gasping for, the boy would keep drowning. "I do not take kindly of orders," Hannibal stated firmly, hands unfolding and refolding on his lap, eyes lowering from Will's face for a fraction of a second.

Will growled. "I told you to keep your eyes on me. Get on your knees."

Hannibal's eyes returned to Will's face, intrigued by the darkness in his features. The sharp cut of his jaw, eyes flashing, lips curled around sharp white teeth, making his scar stand out beautifully. Hannibal studied Will's face for a moment more, but didn't budge.

"I'm sure you can be more convincing than that," Hannibal provoked, a hand reaching out and picking at imaginary dust at his knee, eyes once more off of Will.

There was a flurry of movement and the click of the latch on a holster. Hannibal looked up and eyes wandered curiously over Will who had his gun up and aimed right for Hannibal's head, though his finger wasn't on the trigger, held safely at the side of the gun.

"If you look away from me again, I am going to ruin your perfect little knee that was just fixed up," Will hissed through his teeth. "Get on your knees, Dr. Lecter. I will not be kind if I have to say it again."

Hannibal inhaled deeply, eyes focused directly on Will now, not leaving Will's face for a moment as he lowered himself from the couch and onto his knees, at attention for Will. Will stepped forward slowly.

"Hands behind your head, lace your fingers, cross your ankles," he instructed, the verbiage second nature to him now even after all of the years of not being a cop.

His eyes watched Hannibal carefully as the man slowly obeyed, not breaking eye contact. Will's blood rushed loudly through his veins and he couldn't keep his breathing steady. He stepped closer still and pressed the barrel of the gun against Hannibal's forehead. He was half expecting Hannibal to flinch like he had when Will had broken into his house after being released from the mental hospital, but to Hannibal's credit, the man stayed still, eyes still on Will just as ordered.

"You are going to be my control so that I don't do something that will end up getting us caught. Do you understand?" Will asked softly. Hannibal gave a small nod. Will looked over Hannibal, eyes landing on the man's lips and he frowned. "You talk too much, Dr. Lecter." Will lowered the gun slowly and pushed it against Hannibal's lips. "Keep your pretty mouth busy while you listen to what I say."

Hannibal blinked several times and Will could nearly hear the words, I could never predict you spinning through Hannibal's mind. Will waited for a moment and was about to open his mouth to say something cruel, but stopped when Hannibal's tongue slipped out and licked at the barrel of the gun, hot, wet and lewd. Will's eyes widened in surprise, something swirling dangerously hot in his gut, a flush filling his cheeks.

Will cleared his dry throat, eyes still locked with Hannibal's as the killer continued to lap at the gun like it was a lollipop.

"Damn it," Will cursed, rubbing at his face with his free hand. "I'm working later tonight. I won't be home until about nine. Do you understand?" The moan that came in answer from Hannibal made Will's teeth clench and his knees go weak, eyes unable to leave Hannibal's obscene work. "I expect several things to be done when I get home. I want dinner made and on the table. I want to eat something greasy and processed and something that you would never cook, but you are going to cook it for me, am I making myself clear?" Another moan and Will bit his bottom lip, trying to keep his own desires quiet. "I don't think I can live through another five star meal at the moment. Then I want a bath drawn and I want you to wash me, head to toe using that soap that smells like you."

Will couldn't tear his eyes away as Hannibal's mouth closed around the barrel of the gun, Will's mind nearly going blank at how dirty and filthy this was, how sick he was for enjoying it as much as he did, how much he hated that Hannibal still had control in the situation when Will wanted it.

"I don't have to work tomorrow," Will continued on before his mouth could freeze up too. "I want to be fucked into the mattress until I am begging for you to stop. I want to be restrained and used. I want to be ruined under you." Will wasn't sure if the next sound that came from Hannibal's throat was in understanding or in pleasure, but the white hot lightning that it sent through Will made Will's mouth tighten into a firm line. He pulled his gun from Hannibal's mouth, unsure if he could keep on his feet if the man continued. "Stop that," he ordered harshly, watching saliva drip down Hannibal's chin from red, swollen lips as Hannibal tried to catch his breath.

Will exhaled deeply. "How are you still in control?" Will asked softly, Hannibal's lust filled eyes becoming clouded with confusion. "I can have this gun shoved down your throat and you still have control over the situation. I want control, Hannibal. Give me something that I have control over."

Hannibal licked at his lips, eyes still very locked on Will, not daring to look away, breath heavy. "You want me to give you something to control?" Hannibal asked, voice ragged from his earlier demonstrations of what was possibly going to happen that night. "Control is taken, not given."

Will closed his eyes with an exasperated sigh, gun going back up. He opened his eyes and used his other hand to pull back the hammer, the gun clicking at the action, though his finger was still off the trigger.

"I am taking it Hannibal," Will said through tight teeth. "Give me control."

"You want to know the outcome of the game you're playing?" Hannibal asked in a reminder more than needing to know. "You can control the answer to this question. I had hoped-"

"Hannibal," Will warned, shaking the gun slightly in his hand. "I do not want explanations."

"Will you marry me?"

Will blinked, the anger suddenly stripped from his system, his body going cold and weak. Will's eyes flickered over Hannibal's face, trying to decide if the man was being serious or playing another game. Sometimes it was so hard to tell. Will de-cocked the gun and lowered it, the harshness gone from his face.

"Are you asking me to marry you during a fight?" Will finally asked when he found his voice. "I have a gun to your head and you ask me to marry you."

"I'm sorry it's not romantic," Hannibal answered, though Will didn't pick up any of the arrogant sarcasm he had expected to come with the words. "I know we can't right away, you have legal issues to work through and everything will have to be done very under the table, but..." Hannibal gave a small shrug. "You can control the answer."

Will put his gun back into his holster and looked around the room as if the answer would be written on the walls for him. He held out his hand and Hannibal took it, letting Will pull him to his feet.

Will took Hannibal's face in his hands and kissed at Hannibal's swollen lips, licking into him. There was a background saltiness to the gunpowder that was in Hannibal's mouth, though most of the taste was bitter and tangy, astringent. Will didn't mind. It was his design after all.

"The moment that Molly is out of the picture," Will gasped against Hannibal's lips as he continued to kiss him, "I will marry you, Hannibal. And I want your last name." Will wasn't sure how long he kissed Hannibal and he didn't care, all he cared about was that this man was close to him. Will didn't need to be in control anymore, not when Hannibal could take care of him.

"I'm sorry," Hannibal muttered, pushing Will back slightly, lips looking utterly abused. "I pushed you." Hannibal's fingers glided through Will's unruly curls and Will sighed at the touch. "I had to make sure that you didn't explode anywhere near Jack." Will gave a small nod in understanding, eyes closed as Hannibal kissed him this time. "Are you feeling better?" Will gave another small nod. "Why do you have to work later?"

"I'm covering a night class for someone," Will replied, voice sounding just as used as Hannibal's.

"I will make sure there is something greasy and processed on the table when you get home and that there is a bath waiting for you, Mr. Lecter, " Hannibal said, making Will groan with a small laugh.

"I need to go," Will whispered a few hours later, between kisses from Hannibal. Hannibal shook his head, dismissing the idea and his hands continued to tug at curls and wrinkle Will's shirt, pull at Will's skinny black tie that he had put on. "I'm going to be late for my class."

"I don't care."

Will grinned into the kiss and pulled away from Hannibal, pushing away Hannibal's hands and going to grab his bag. He slung it over his shoulder and turned back with a sigh, taking Hannibal's face to kiss him once more, before moving his lips to kiss at Hannibal's sharp cheekbones.

"I'll be back soon. Promise," Will assured, once more pulling away from Hannibal and heading for the front door. He grabbed his coat and slung it over his arm, giving a laugh as Hannibal's hands snatched up his waist and kisses were pressed into his neck, around his long curls. "Hannibal."

"Why do you teach so far away?" Hannibal grumbled, arms snaking around Will's middle.

"To give you time to get everything I wanted ready tonight," Will replied smugly. "I need to go, Hannibal." Will pulled himself free with a smile over his shoulder. "I love you."

"Je t'aime aussi, mon cher (I love you too, my dear)," Hannibal muttered back, watching as Will left the house.

Hannibal settled himself back into the couch, pulling the book back into his lap and opening to the page he had left off on before Will's breakdown, but his mind was more focused on trying to think up something to make for dinner that Will would like that also wouldn't put his skills to shame, despite that most likely being the point.

Will had enjoyed the gumbo. He liked southern cooking, something that Hannibal wasn't necessarily familiar with, but he was certain he could figure something out. Maybe breakfast would be an easier route and there were eggs that needed to be used and some potatoes that were going to go bad soon and Hannibal hated to waste food, even if he didn't want for it.

Hannibal rose from the couch, book set aside for another book he fetched from the kitchen. Molly had a wide arrange of cookbooks in her cupboard above the microwave that Hannibal hadn't really looked into much, but it was a start. He glanced through the titles until he found one that caught his attention, fetching it out and flipping through the pages.

It was full of different comfort foods from the south and Hannibal wondered if maybe this had been Will's book or if Molly had gotten it to try to make something for him and failed. Hannibal smiled at the idea. He wouldn't fail Will. Not like she had.

His eyes settled on a recipe and he gave a small nod. Fried, greasy, fatty, something that Hannibal would never cook without being forced to with a gun to his head. Unless it was Will. He didn't need a gun to his head for Will, though it was a much more convincing argument.

Hannibal set the cookbook on the counter and began gathering everything he needed for biscuits and gravy and chicken fried steak. He still had a few hours, but he could get the prep out of the way and start defrosting the meat. He pulled the chicken from the freezer and placed it on the stove, stopping at the sound of an approaching car.

Hannibal glanced towards the kitchen window curiously. Maybe Will had just forgotten something. But at the sound of two car doors opening instead of one, Hannibal stepped closer to the window, barely pulling the curtain open enough to glance out. He could only stare for a moment at the sight of Molly and Walter, or who he assumed were Molly and Walter. He wasn't sure if he had ever actually seen them before, but he wasn't sure who else would be coming up to the porch.

Hannibal sighed and let the curtain fall closed before kicking off his shoes so his footsteps would be silent and picking a knife from the knife block on the counter. He went to the stairs and started up them before turning the corner as he heard the front door being unlocked and opened.

"We're just picking up some stuff," Molly explained over the sound of keys being shoved into a pocket. "Don't you want your card collection and stuff? Some other clothes to wear maybe?"

"Won't Will be mad?" a younger voice asked with a sigh. Hannibal did recognize that voice. It had been the voice that had called Will twice, once in the early morning and once in the middle of the night. Once for a crime scene that he had found and the other for nightmares he was having.

"Will does not have to know," Molly's voice answered. There was a pause and Hannibal listened carefully, waiting for anything further. "Go grab your things."

The instruction was said softly and Hannibal could hear footsteps on the stairs, knowing he had two options, both of which are not very great, but one has more weight to it than the other. And Hannibal wanted to know more about them, wanted to understand Will's attachment to the kid. He simply wanted to know.

Hannibal watched the boy turn down the opposite hallway, missing Hannibal completely, before he moved into the bedroom after Walter. The boy left the door open and Hannibal glanced around, watching the dark haired boy with freckles over his pale nose go to his dresser and grab some items from the top of it.

Hannibal cleared his throat as he stepped further into the room and Walter jumped, spinning around. He looked over Hannibal for a moment with wide eyes, breathing rushed, chest and shoulders rising and falling. His eyes softened after a moment and his head tipped to the side, causing Hannibal's expression to turn to one of curiosity. The boy's eyes dropped down to the knife in Hannibal's hand before returning back to Hannibal's face.

"You're Hannibal the cannibal," the boy said after a moment of tense silence.

"What was that, Wally?" Molly called from the stairs.

Hannibal tipped his head to the side, watching and waiting carefully for what the boy would do. "Nothing mom!" Walter called back, eyes not leaving Hannibal's for a moment. "Just talking to myself!"

"Alright hun!"

Hannibal exhaled deeply, eyes wandering the boy quizzically. "What makes you say that?" Hannibal asked softly.

"The book. Isn't that what you were called?" Walter asked, leaving where he stood by the messy dresser and moving over to his just as messy desk, scooping up the book and holding it out to Hannibal. "See?" Hannibal cautiously stepped over to the desk, hand tight around the knife in his hand. He looked over the outheld book, frowning at the cover. It was a picture of him and then a smaller picture of Dr. Chilton in the bottom left. In big red letters across the top was Hannibal The Cannibal, The Disturbed Mind of Dr. Lecter. "I didn't like the book much."

Hannibal gave an amused tilt of his lips at the words. "Neither did I."

Walter gave a nod and placed the book back on his desk and Hannibal followed the movement, picking out different things across the boy's desk. There were newspaper clippings, printed stories from Tattlecrimes, photocopies of what looked like police reports. Reports that Hannibal recognized from Will's case files and he couldn't help but guess that the boy had found his father's work and had made his own copies of it.

There were books about Hannibal as well, not just Dr. Chilton's. Others that Hannibal hadn't known existed, though he would have read them if he did know they existed. It was laughable what these people would say, how they would try to categorize him when there was never a way for him to be placed in a perfect box. He found his own works too. His own medical papers and his own research. Photographs of his drawings that had to also have been taken from Will's case files.

And then pictures of him and Will. Pictures mostly from Freddie Lounds, but some others that Hannibal was certain he had never known were being taken. Some from their time in Europe and it made Hannibal wonder how many people were really after him aside from Mason Verger.

There were court files as well, documents of both Will's and Hannibal's court cases. And it looked like there were some Tooth Fairy and Great Red Dragon related newspaper clippings as well.

"Are you here for my dad?"

Hannibal's attention was pulled front the large array of documentation and he looked over the boy. "I suppose in a way. At the moment I am more concerned over you and your mother," Hannibal answered, eyes returning to the desk for a moment. "What are you doing with all of this?"

"After that man attacked us, I read an article about Will and that he had killed someone. That you framed him for your own crimes and I had to understand," Walter explained, voice hushed as well. "So I have been reading everything I can find on you."

"Flattery is not going to help you," Hannibal warned, knife going out towards Walter who honestly seemed fairly in control. But he had sounded decently in control when Will had told Hannibal about the Witch Hunter's case.

"I won't tell my mom you're here. Can I just go?"

Hannibal was taken aback by the words, the child just as unpredictable as Will. He almost considered letting the boy go, but he couldn't bring himself to. He wanted to know these strange people better. He wanted to know the woman who Will never wanted to speak of again and the boy that Will wouldn't leave.

"I can't," Hannibal muttered and Walter gave a small nod, accepting. Just accepting and it made Hannibal question his choice once more. "Downstairs." Hannibal motioned to the bedroom door with the knife and Walter moved passed him and for the door, Hannibal close behind him, taking the boy's shoulder tightly in his vise-like grip.

"Wally, are you ready to go?" Molly's voice said from the bottom of the stairs. "Will needs to stop leaving food out, he's going to make himself sick."

Hannibal kept his grip on the boy as they entered the living room and Hannibal looked over the woman who was busing herself in the kitchen with something. She must have put the dogs in their kennels because they were nowhere to be found and Hannibal was more than aware of the way Izzy acted around her.

Molly looked nearly the same size as Will, small and dainty. Her dark blond hair was pulled up and out of her face and when she turned around, Hannibal was greeted with full chipmunk cheeks framed by bangs. Not what he had pictured the woman to look like, curious what Will found in her if there was anything at all worth finding.

She stopped with wide eyes at the sight of Hannibal with a knife held nearly against her son's neck. "I would appreciate it if you didn't mess with dinner. Will requested something fairly specific for tonight," Hannibal said into the silence.

"You're Dr. Lecter," Molly blurted out, as if that was the only clear thought in her mind.

"And you must be the wife," Hannibal said with a small nod. "Molly, Will keeps rope in the shed outside. Would you mind fetching it for me? I do not think I have to warn you about the implications of you disobeying me." Molly's eyes lowered to Walter and she gave a small nod, heading for the back door. "Molly." Molly stopped and glanced back, finding Hannibal's open hand outstretched. "Phone, please. I do not need you getting any smart ideas while you're alone."

Molly stepped closer to Hannibal and reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone and passing it over to Hannibal who took it and slid it into his own pocket before his hand returned to Walter's shoulder. Hannibal waited for Molly to be out of the house before he moved Walter to the kitchen chair and sat him down in it, looking out the sliding glass door that Molly had left through to make sure she was doing what he wanted.

When she disappeared into the shed, Hannibal returned to the kitchen and fetched out the chicken that Molly had returned to the freezer. He looked over the cookbook and read through some of the directions before a voice spoke.

"What are you making? Are you cooking people?"

Hannibal's hand rested on the edge of the counter and he looked over the boy who was still sitting perfectly where he had placed him. There were footsteps from outside the sliding glass door and Hannibal watched as Molly returned with her several bundles of nylon rope.

Hannibal picked back up the knife from the counter and stepped closer. "Tie up your son, if you would."

"Will said you were sickeningly polite," Molly grumbled with dark eyes as she set the rope down on the dining table and picked one up, unrolling it from its tight coil. The rope was no longer white, grey and dirty from being used most likely on Will's boat that Hannibal had been curious to see once he learned that Will had sailed across the ocean to find him in Italy. "I didn't think it was true."

"Will spoke about me?" Hannibal asked in curiosity. It had been a very lonely three years without Will there and Hannibal had figured that Will had completely pushed Hannibal aside.

"When I made him," Molly answered, glancing down at her son for a moment, voice softening for her boy. "Don't worry. Will will be home soon."

Hannibal didn't respond to the words, just watched as Molly obeyed, her son tied to the chair and then she looked to Hannibal with hard eyes, waiting for Hannibal's next orders. Hannibal simply nodded to the chair beside Walter which Molly takes and Hannibal moves over, snatching up another one of the ropes and making quick work of tight knots around Molly's hands and torso.

Molly's eyes were tight as Lecter stepped away and she took the man in. The man from sweaty nightmares and pictures burned in fireplaces and incoherent mumblings in sleep. She recognized the clothing. The sweater was Will's, something larger that he didn't wear often, only if it were extremely cold. And she was pretty sure that the slacks were Will's too, a little too tight and a fraction too short for Lecter. But the dark green of the sweater and the deep grey of the pants seemed to bring a lightness to his sharp cheekbones that could cut glass and his dark, cold, emotionless eyes that death himself must live in.

Molly watched as Lecter moved around her kitchen, far too well acquainted for someone who had stopped by to find her husband. She stayed quiet as did Walter, Lecter simply content to be in the kitchen and she kept her eyes on him as he eventually wandered over to the bar and pulled out a bottle of wine, looking over it before returning to the kitchen, pouring himself a decent glass and taking a thoughtful sip.

And Molly continued to stay quiet, not quite brave enough and far too aware of Lecter's pathological taste for the rude to voice her opinions about him. Instead, she observed him work. He pulled a knife from the knife block and looked over the blade, obviously finding it unsatisfactory. He opened another drawer and pulled out her sharpener, dragging the blade of the knife down at a precise angle. A ring and clash of metal sounded through the quiet home and Molly took the chance to test her bindings only to find that they all held tight.

Lecter inspected the knife once more, lips tipping into a slight smile and as he put the sharpener away and Molly couldn't help but note that he looked like a child showing off an art project as the light caught the blade, Lecter more than pleased with himself.

Look.

She did. More than she truly cared for and she wondered if she saw a fraction of what Will saw when he looked at this man or if this was the merest echo of it, Lecter's person suit fully on and not going to be taken off anytime soon. But she knew that she was seeing exactly what she was supposed to be seeing. Lecter had allowed this, intended it, let her see just enough.

He fetched a cutting board and then some potatoes from the pantry, washing them in the sink, the only sound was him working. Molly's eyes dropped down to Wally who was simply sitting there with a curious look on his face, watching Lecter work as well.

Lecter's motions were efficient and fluid as he cut the potatoes into thin shoelace strips for fries or possibly hash browns. From what Molly had gathered from the open cookbook, Molly was pretty sure it was the latter.

"You hold your husband to impossible standards, you know."

The sound of his voice filled the room and Molly caught him glancing up to her, waiting for her reply. "You underestimate him," she shot back in a challenge, though her voice was light.

"I have done many things to Will, but underestimating him is not one of them," Lecter defended, putting the potatoes into a waiting bowl and setting the cutting board and knife aside to once again move to the pantry, coming back with flour and sugar. He took another small sip of his wine, looking far too comfortable in her home for her liking. "Do you see him as perfect, Molly? Clothed in nothing but flawlessness? A hero that will always come to rescue you? A knight in shining armor?" He was making dough, adding milk and yeast with the sugar into a bowl and letting it sit for a moment. "That would require him to be under the rule of someone. Will is his own master."

Molly could hear the endearment in Lecter's tone and knew in an instant that he enjoyed the thought of Will as such a person. Saw Will like a God, but wasn't God just the same as perfection?

"And what kind of God do you think he'll be?" Molly asked, causing the man to tip his head to the side, regarding her questioningly, hands on the edge of the counter. She suddenly didn't want the answer anymore at the flash of his eyes.

"Something beautifully blurred with darkness and light," Lecter replied carefully.

"And you're going to get him there?"

"I don't need to. He can find his way himself. I simply pointed him in the right direction." Lecter went back to work on the dough now that the yeast had a chance to bloom.

"Was I in your right direction?" Molly asked, calling those dirt red eyes back to her face. She watched carefully as Lecter licked at his lips, considering her words.

"You were a setback."

Molly gave a small laugh, Lecter's eyes once more on her. "He's not going to abandon us for you." She understood now. Understood why Will never spoke of him to her, why she only knew about the basics, about a twisted friendship that was so screwed to high heavens that maybe it was more than a friendship. Will didn't speak of Lecter not because Will was afraid of him or wanted to forget him. Will didn't speak of Lecter because of his feelings for Lecter. She hadn't seen it before and she was a bit shocked that it took this killer sitting at home in her kitchen that made it clear as day. "Just because you care for him in some roundabout way doesn't mean he will run with you. Not anymore. Not with us here."

"You seem to be holding tightly to the fact that you're still married when you're the one trying to abandon him," Hannibal stated strongly, going back to the dough. He dusted some flour on the counter and let the sticky ball of goo land on the counter, kneading it with strong shoulders and flexing muscles in his arms. "He has a very good lawyer set up."

It was a lie. Molly could tell it was, only because Lecter wanted it to be known as a lie, but she didn't doubt that Lecter had the means to get Will any lawyer that Will could need, that he would get Will any lawyer that he could possibly need. He screamed money from the way he stood and commanded the room, not just from what Will had told her.

"He wouldn't leave Walter," Molly tried again, anything to throw this man off, anything at all, not suddenly nearly as afraid of him as she had been. He was still just a man, not the boogie man that the media had portrayed him as. He was just like anyone else. "Will is a wonderful father."

"And I have no doubt that your boy is a wonderful child," Lecter agrees with a nod, placing the dough back into the bowl, covering it with a damp towel and putting it on top of the fridge to let it rise. He picked up his wine glass, holding it delicately and made his way over to the table, taking a seat across from Molly and Walter, looking over them as he took a sip of his wine. He looked quite bored, his words blandly polite, Molly clearly not good enough. "I have to say that Will has saved you once more Molly. If he hadn't asked for something specific, I would have abandoned my original dinner plans for something else."

The smile that was shot over the wine glass froze Molly in place. She had categorized Lecter away into the massive file of serial killers that Will had put behind bars, the list quite extensive. She had been content to allow the man to live as a shadow that sometimes clung to Will's body, but she had all but forgotten that this man was in fact the world's most well-known cannibal next to Jeffery Dahmer.

"Was I to be on the menu, Dr. Lecter?"

The boy reacted at that, looking between his mother and the man with wide eyes as if he hadn't considered the idea, but he didn't say a word. Hannibal didn't need to, to know that the boy was worried.

"Will and I could dine on your heart."

Molly blinked with a confused look. Lecter's gaze was dispassionate, uncaring. Tone, not quite boredom, blank insincerity on his face. Maybe it would be best to keep him uninterested in them until Will came back home. His last class would be in an hour or so at the latest and Lecter didn't look too keen on doing more than sipping his wine quietly.

"And what of our son?" Molly taunted, unable to hold back. She could twist the knife she held.

Acid sharp envy covered his face, wine glass hitting the dining table with excessive force and both Walter and Molly jumped at the sound, Molly surprised that the glass didn't break. The wine swirled dangerously in the glass, nearly spilling. The action was so far from the calm that Lecter had been showing that Molly panicked.

Too far. You went too far.

Lecter didn't look up at her though.

"Your son is not an adequate substitute for our daughter."

"Your daughter?" Molly asked, the words echoing around, receiving another wide eyed stare from Walter who was still being ever dutifully silent. "Yours and Will's?"

"I guess it is to be expected that he wouldn't have mentioned her," Hannibal mused, a calmness back over him as he picked up the wine class and took another sip of the dark liquid. "Losing a child is difficult. His betrayal was beautiful as is every aspect of him and it put all of that to death."

"You killed it," came Walter's small voice much to the amusement of Hannibal, whose eyes quickly shifted from the wine glass to the boy. "You killed her. Abigail Hobbs, right?"

"Such a cunning boy," Hannibal muttered, leaning forward over the table on his forearms, eyes flickering over the boy. Maybe he had misjudged. "I killed her because he killed a part of me. He forgave me."

"For killing your daughter?" Walter asked with a hint of distaste in his tone that made Hannibal frown.

"We were going to live in Florence," Hannibal said decidedly, leaning back in his chair once more. "Walk past the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore and Piazza Duomo on the way to the market. I was going to teach him Italian."

"Are you upset that I gave him everything you offered?" Molly asked, her mind turning over and over as she tried to put together what she had done to rile this man other than her remarks earlier. She had never met him before, never wanted to meet him and yet he had openly admitted to wanting to share her heart with her husband. "He rejected you and accepted what I had to offer. He helped raise my Wally, but he wouldn't go with you to raise your daughter. That's it, isn't it?" Lecter's right eyebrow rose as he listened, daring her to continue, hand tight on the stem of his wine glass that needed to be refilled now. That's what you hate about me, about us. I'm not a threat to your place in his life. I could never replace you, but I could replace your daughter's memory."

Lecter stayed silent, not a single word, just looked at the remaining drops of wine in his glass, giving them a small swirl. The silence was thick and Molly knew she guessed right. Molly knew it was true. She could never replace Lecter. She could never fill the Lecter shaped hole in Will's heart. She could never stop the aching that the empath had felt for the killer, though Will had simply passed it off as migraines or being lost in thought. And Molly was more than aware now that she had never really been in the same place to make Will happy.

Will didn't smile like he did when he looked at a picture of Lecter. Will didn't care for music, but he would always stop to listen to a concerto if it was playing on a commercial on the TV or in a store, almost reverently. Will didn't touch her like... he let Lecter touch him. Those bite marks hadn't been from an attack and Molly was curious if they were still littering his skin.

"Atsiprašau už praradimą Abigail." (Sorry for the loss of Abigail.)

The words froze the room and the silence that cashed back in about knocked the wind from Molly, though she couldn't tell what Walter had said. But she didn't like the way that Lecter perked up at the words. His head tipped to the side, eyes scrunched up calculatingly, body once more leaning over the table, wine glass pushed aside.

"Ar mokate lietuviškai?" (Do you speak Lithuanian?) Hannibal asked across the table, voice holding more interest in it than it had all evening, eyes alight.

"Truputį," (A little.) Walter answered back, voice confident. "I wanted to learn after finding out where you came from."

Hannibal hummed. Maybe he had absolutely misjudged the boy. Maybe he was adequate. Maybe there was hope for him after all, though Hannibal still hadn't decided exactly what he wanted to do with this situation. Molly needed to go. She needed to be pacified, she was getting on his nerves, but this boy... The child was just as interesting as Will had been when they had first met. He was smart, quick, and understanding.

"Aš sveikinu jūsų atsiprašymą." (I welcome your apology.) Hannibal watched closely over the boy's face as Walter processed what was said to him. His eyebrows furrowed together and Hannibal sighed, deflated. Interest no longer there.

"Ačiū," (Thank you,) Walter said with a small nod after a moment or two of trying to pick apart the words in his head. "Ar įskaudinsi mano tėvą?" (Will you hurt my father?) Hannibal shook his head and Walter gave a deep breath of relief. "Prašau, nepakenkite mano mamai." (Please don't hurt my mom.)

"Tik šiek tiek?" (Only a little?) Hannibal asked with a huff of laughter. "I would say you're nearly fluent."

"I've had three years."

Molly couldn't take it anymore. She didn't want to listen to anymore of the conversation between her boy and this killer in front of them who hadn't done more than tie them up. She had been expecting screaming and blood and carnage, but Lecter's gentleness was unsettling. Especially towards her son.

"How long have you been living here?" she asked out, but Hannibal ignored her, eyes still locked on her son. "You obviously know your way around the kitchen."

"Kelios savaitės," (A few weeks,) was Hannibal's bored answer.

"Several weeks," Walter translated for his mother, glancing between the two adults once more, curious where this was going to go.

"Have you been sleeping in my bed?"

"Taip." (Yes.)

"Yes," Walter repeated in English, much to Molly's dislike. If she had known her son was doing anything that led him close to this murderer, she would have put a stop to it immediately and the thought that maybe Will had encouraged it crossed her mind and made a sour taste fill her mouth.

"Taking my place?" Molly asked.

"Taip. Aš ne tas, kuris bando jo apleisti," (Yes. I'm not the one trying to abandon him,) Hannibal answered.

"I'm not the one-the one trying to abandon him," Walter stuttered out, face scrunched up in thought.

"Miegodamas jis šaukia mano vardą. Ar jis tai vadino, kai buvote kartu?" (As he sleeps, he says my name. Did he call it when you were together?)

Molly chewed on her tongue. Lecter was enjoying this too much, his fun new little game that involved her son.

Hannibal's eyes didn't leave Walter for a moment and Molly struggled once more against her bonds that held just as tight as they did before. She wanted nothing more than to leave, to pull her son out of his reach, keep her family far away from this man. Where was Will? They had been here for a while. Shouldn't his classes be done by now? Driving home by now?

"He said that dad calls his name while he sleeps and wanted to know if dad called his name while you were together," Walter said softly after a long pause of mentally translating.

Hannibal's eyes flickered up at that point to find a scowl on Molly's face, teeth clenched tightly, though he doesn't fear for her teeth like he had for Will's earlier. She didn't answer, but Hannibal didn't need the answer to know what it was. Will had always been his. Even in all of the years apart, Will belonged to him. He smiled at the idea, something smug collecting in his chest.

"Where is Will?" Molly demanded.

Hannibal rose from his chair, taking the wine glass to the sink to begin washing it. "Unfortunately for you, he is working late tonight," Hannibal stated above the running water. "Fortunately for me, we have more time to get to know each other now that you have become suddenly far more interesting to me."