five.
" rectifier "
8.15 PM
Baltimore, Maryland
The guests arrived at Hannibal Lecter's house gradually. Will Graham was the first, of course – there before anybody else. He was dressed up, really; although most would have considered it to not be very appropriate dinner party wear.
Hannibal took his coat at the door, mouth curling up a bit and said, "I am not quite done with dinner yet. You could come and keep me company in the kitchen, if you wish?"
"Ah," said Will, looking acutely uncomfortable at the suggestion, "er – no. I'll just wait here for everyone else to arrive."
"But of course," said Hannibal, and if he was disappointed he hid it remarkably well.
He took his leave, which meant that Will was left to welcome both Alana Bloom and Jack Crawford, somewhat awkwardly, as they arrived – one after the other. The Doctor and Ace showed up last – walking up to the doorstep from the dark street with no indication or sign as to how they had actually got there. When they knocked, Alana Bloom was the one to let them in.
"Doctor Smith," she greeted, smiling, as Ace shut the door behind them. "I've heard so much about you. I'm Alana Bloom – I consult with Jack, sporadically."
"Just Doctor, please," he said, and shook her hand. He had foregone his dusty old coat and question-mark jumper for a more dignified black dress jacket and red undershirt. "Another psychiatrist?"
"We're in great demand, apparently," she said, and turned to the other newcomer. "And... Miss McShane, isn't it?"
Ace was wearing a tuxedo. "Everybody's been calling me 'Miss McShane' lately," she complained lightly, even as she reached across to shake Alana's hand as well. "Makes me feel like the youngest person in the room. Call me Ace."
"You are the youngest person in the room," the Doctor noted, eyes twinkling with amusement.
"Yeah, don't remind me." Ace sighed.
At this, Alana laughed, evidently charmed. "Ace it is."
"Ah," said Hannibal, emerging from the hallway leading to the rest of the house, "everybody is here. Excellent – do come through. My apologies for not being a more welcoming host. The meal was proving especially hard to wrangle into shape tonight."
"Not at all," Alana said, taking the lead in following him, and the party made its way through the house – down a long hallway and into the dining room, which was dimly lit, and altogether more than a little gothic in appearance.
"There would usually be flowers as a centrepiece," Hannibal said, by means of explanation, "but considering the nature of the crime you are investigating currently, I felt that would be in rather poor taste."
There was scattered, somewhat guilty laughter from the guests.
Everybody else took their places around the table. The empty spot at the head of the table appeared to be reserved for their host. Will sat at the spot at the opposite end of the table, and everybody else filled in the spaces in-between.
"Last fancy dinner party I went to, there were human remains in the soup," Ace said conversationally, which attracted several alarmed looks, one amused glance, and one warning stare – the latter of which came from the Doctor, of course. She quickly backtracked. "– just joking. Er – sorry. Cannibalism jokes are kind of bad to make at dinner, aren't they?"
"Not to worry," said Hannibal, and actually grinned; a properly amused smile, showing teeth. "I am not serving soup tonight."
He re-entered the kitchen, and emerged almost immediately with several small side dishes – salads, what appeared to be freshly made bread, and wines that appeared to be very good vintages.
For a brief time, the people sitting at the table simply made lighthearted small talk as they ate the entrees. Alana Bloom and the Doctor, who were seated next to each other, began discussing their respective psychological backgrounds and beliefs. Jack and Will were talking too, although it appeared to be mostly about the flower-killer case. Ace interjected in both conversations whenever necessary, and exchanged some cheerful words with Hannibal as he flitted in and out of the room. The atmosphere was lively and pleasant, and altogether, everybody – even Will, remarkably – was having a good time.
Shortly, the main course was served.
" Saltimbocca alla romana , served on a bed of fresh spring beans – and other assorted vegetables," Hannibal announced with no small amount of relish, and carefully transferred the dishes from where they had been balanced along one arm to the table, in front of each guest. "A dish whose origins can be loosely traced back to Brescia – a Roman city, as the name would imply. It can be translated roughly to mean 'jump in the mouth'."
"Looks delicious," opined Ace, and breathed in as he set a plate in front of her before returning to the kitchen to retrieve the rest of the food. "Smells great too!"
"Mm, yes," agreed Alana. "What's in it, Hannibal?"
"I could tell you," said Hannibal dryly, returning from the kitchen with more plates of saltimbocca, "but then I'd have to kill you."
There was another scattering of amused laughter that echoed around the table. Even Will smiled slightly at this.
"Veal," Hannibal said, smiling as well. "Veal and prosciutto, as well as some other seasonings and additions. And for you, Doctor Smith – pasta all'arrabbiata." In front of the Doctor, he set down a plate of meticulously prepared noodles and sauce. "I hope it is to your tastes. I do not usually cook for a vegetarian palate."
"I'm sure it will be," he said. "You appear to be a very accomplished chef, Doctor Lecter."
Hannibal inclined his head at the Doctor, and took his place at the head of the table, and took up a fork in one hand and a knife in the other. " Bon appetit ," he said, by means of invitation.
Everybody dug in. For a few seconds there was silence, as everybody simply enjoyed the well-prepared food; and then conversation began to gurgle up like champagne, and then somebody – Alana – actually broke out the champagne, and soon nearly everyone was talking again – this time with Hannibal gladly taking part. The Doctor almost instantly engaged him in a conversation about moral ethics, which the two of them quickly became absorbed in.
Within ten or so minutes, the atmosphere in the room was vibrant and lively – even Will, despite still talking work with Jack, seemed at ease being there. Alana and Ace were chatting idly and irregularly about nothing in particular. And the ethics debate was still going, although it had evolved somewhat.
"Well, historically speaking, humanity has had a hard time thinking objectively about the – well, human condition," the Doctor was saying, idly tapping the edge of a fork in a quick, even rhythm against the edge of his plate. "Which I would hypothesize is more by design than coincidence. Although by whose design is anyone's guess. Certainly not mine."
"An interesting point. However, in Plato's Republic –" Hannibal began, raising a finger, but the Doctor had become distracted by something else, and had stopped listening briefly.
"Ace?" the Doctor asked, casting her a glance. "Is everything all right? You're being awfully quiet."
Ace had only eaten a few bites of her dinner, and hadn't even touched the meat yet, but she was staring at the plate with an odd expression on her face. She blinked once, and then twice, and then looked up at him, as if she had only just heard what he had said. "I – what?"
Hannibal also turned; and tilted his head at Ace. "Miss McShane. Is there something wrong with the meal – not to your liking, perhaps?"
"No!" she was quick to exclaim. "No, it's fine! It's just..." She trailed off, and then seemed to change her mind. "...is it supposed to taste, like – you know. All metallic?"
A frown slashed its way across Hannibal's face. "It is not," he said.
Alana looked at her plate. "Mine's fine," she volunteered.
"So is mine," Jack added. "It tastes excellent, as always."
"I must have made a mistake – not washed your plate properly," Hannibal said, and rose to his feet. His tone indicated that he wasn't the sort of person that had made any sort of mistake in his life, ever; but nonetheless he extended a hand in her direction. "My deepest apologies. I will replace your dinner, if you will give me just a second."
"Thanks," said Ace, visibly relieved, and moved to hand him her plate. Before she could even pick it up, however, she coughed – an unpleasant-sounding, hacking cough – and her hand sprung up to her mouth briefly. She quickly recovered, and picked up the plate, quickly passing it over to Hannibal. When he didn't move to take it, she frowned. "Why're you staring at me like that?"
"Ace," said the Doctor, audibly horrified, and sprung to his feet in one quick movement, pushing back his chair. "You're –"
He didn't make it any further before she doubled over in coughing again, fingers twitching and causing her to lose her grip on the plate. It clattered to the table, food spilling everywhere. Ace sank back into her seat, tears forming in her eyes from the force of the harsh, involuntary coughing fit. When she removed her hand from her mouth, it was even more obvious that her hands were now splattered with dark blood. She raised her eyes to meet the Doctor's, terrified.
"Pro –" she began, but didn't finish. Jack, who had been sitting next to her, exclaimed in alarm, and grabbed her arm as her eyes rolled back in her head and she began to list sideways away from the table. Alana made a noise somewhere between a tiny scream and a choke, but seemed to be frozen in place.
The Doctor had already rounded the table at record-breaking speeds, and was at her side in an instant; lowering her to the ground. "Ace? Ace! Ace, wake up; you need to wake up – " He grabbed her shoulders, and shook her roughly.
"She has been poisoned," said Hannibal grimly, eyeing her. "I can smell it, even from here."
"Alana, call 991," Jack barked, which was enough to spur her into action. She jolted up from her seat, and stumbled towards the kitchen. Oddly enough, Will rose to his feet as well, running after her.
The Doctor slapped the side of Ace's face, pulling her properly upright. " Ace!" he barked, acquiring the sharp, biting tone of a military commander, although his face reflected complete terror.
Her eyelids fluttered, and her hand jolted spasmodically, as if she was trying to grasp the side of his jacket. "I – where?" she gasped. She appeared to be having difficulty speaking, and she coughed weakly again.
"That's it, Ace – stay here, stay with me," the Doctor breathed. Ace's eyes opened properly, although not without some considerable effort, and she moaned indistinctly. She turned to the side and coughed violently, spraying blood all over the carpet.
Hannibal came to kneel next to them, and reached out to grab her chin, tilting it so she was looking directly at him. "Was it in the food?"
"I – I don't –" she stuttered out, clearly distressed. She was shaking, a constant tremor that
"The poison, Miss McShane," he repeated, more urgently. "Was it in the food?"
"Think so," she gasped. At this announcement, Hannibal's expression went suddenly, terrifyingly dark. Ace let out a tiny indistinct gasp of pain, and her eyes rolled back again as she lost consciousness, despite the Doctor's repeated commands to not do just that.
"Doctor Lecter," the Doctor snapped out, losing the gentleness from before and sliding back into 'military commander' abruptly. " Do something. "
Alana stumbled back into the room, clutching the phone. "They're on their way," she said. "Ten minutes."
"I'm afraid there is nothing we can do until the paramedics arrive," Hannibal said. "Try to keep her conscious, if you can."
Will was close behind Alana. "It was him," he said clearly and loudly. "He was here; he was just here–"
"What are you talking about?" Jack demanded.
The Doctor shook her by the shoulders again, desperation clear on his face. " Ace! " He closed his eyes, shook his head, and pulled a long, thin metal stick out of his pocket. Twisting it, he pointed it at her forehead. It began to emit a loud buzzing tone, and almost immediately her eyes shot open. She stared around, uncomprehending, and began to shake again. Her lips were turning blue.
"What are you doing?" asked Alana, sounding terrified as she approached the Doctor.
He ignored her. "Shh, shh, it's all right," he whispered to Ace, running a hand along her hair.
"I don't – I don't understand, " she pleaded, desperate, sounding almost childlike. "P – Pr – what's happening to me? "
He winced; looked pained, and pulled her closer. "Just try to stay calm, Ace. Help is on the way."
Hannibal had stood up, and was now staring at Will with an inscrutable expression. " Him, Will?"
"The flower killer," Will said, and almost violently crossed to their side of the room, where he picked up Ace's plate and dumped the rest of the food off onto the table. Hannibal's lips tightened almost imperceptibly at this, but then Will tore the thing that had been hidden underneath the meat, vegetables and sauce, and held it out, staring at it silently. Jack, Hannibal and Alana – still gripping the phone like a lifeline – gathered around him, and stared at the single playing card that had been concealed in the dinner.
The ace of hearts.
11.04
Baltimore, Maryland
The ambulance had arrived a short few minutes later, and Ace had been bundled into it as quickly as humanly possible – she had been barely breathing just before they arrived, had been pale and still but still clutching desperately at Doctor Smith's jacket as he murmured to her encouragingly, meaninglessly, desperately. The dining room floor had been splattered with blood when she had left. The police had been called, the rest of the FBI was already on its way, and Hannibal was overseeing the disposal, sampling and containment of the poisoned food. Everything was under control.
Will stood in the small strip of garden that served as Hannibal's back yard, staring out at the distant trees swaying in the darkness. Distant sirens and flashing lights from the front of the house tugged at the edges of his mind, but at the moment he had eyes only for the darkness. He knew that the poisoner – the killer, if his instincts were right; the same person who had killed in Aberdeen the previous morning – had left this way, and had probably done so over an hour ago. Tracking him down by following his trail was not a sensible idea.
There was a rustle of movement in the trees beyond his field of vision, and he heard the sound of someone, or something, moving in the direction away from the house rapidly. Will felt his heart speed up.
The yard was open to the woods behind it. He had his gun with him. Nobody was around to stop him.
And 'sensible' had never been his strong suit, anyway.
He headed directly towards the treeline, barely pausing to think, because if he thought about what he was doing for even a split second, he knew he would lose the scent of the trail he was on. Before he was even aware of it, he was far enough into the forest that he couldn't see the lights of Hannibal's house when he looked back, but when he looked forwards, he could hear the sound of a large, heavy-breathing thing crashing through the undergrowth ahead of him.
His quarry was within reach, he knew. He moved slowly, cautiously treading his way through the forest – barely even daring to breathe. Just a few steps further. Just a few steps further, and...
He pushed back a branch, and he saw it.
The stag tossed its head in the air and snorted, and turned to look directly at him. Its eyes were burning. But for once, Will's focus wasn't on the raven-feathered stag – instead, he was staring at the thing looming behind it.
It was huge. It was vast. It was all-consuming. It was –
"Will," said somebody.
Will blinked, and it was gone.
That same somebody touched his shoulder. He flinched violently, turning to face the somebody – and it was Hannibal, of course it was, presenting the perfect picture of concern. His sleeves were stained faintly with blood, dark in the moonlight, Will could see. He was holding a flashlight, which at this current moment was directed somewhere just to the side of Will's face – not shining in his eyes, which he counted as a blessing. His headache was raging; his head felt like it was on fire.
"You're chilled to the bone, Will," said Hannibal, when he didn't respond. "Come back to the house – come inside."
"There was something," Will said, unsure. He turned his head away, searching for any sign of midnight-black feathers, or burning hooves. There was nothing, not at first, but if he squinted –
Hannibal dug his fingers into Will's shoulder, hard – forcing him to look back. "There is nothing out here, Will. Nothing and no-one but you and I."
"I –" Will released a shuddering, shaking breath, and leaned into Hannibal's grip. "What time is it?"
Hannibal pulled up his sleeve, tilting his watch to catch the light from the flashlight. "It is ten twenty-four," he said, looking back up to hold Will's gaze.
"It's ten twenty-four," Will echoed, and then said, with slightly less conviction and a bit of hesitancy in his voice, "I'm in Baltimore, Maryland?" At Hannibal's nod, he said, "and my name is Will Graham."
"Good." Hannibal's grip loosened somewhat, but he didn't let go. "You need to warm up. Come with me."
"I couldn't catch him," Will breathed, allowing Hannibal to half-guide, half-support him as they began to make their way back in the direction that he had come from. "I – I thought I was following him, but –"
"Following who?" Hannibal's voice was calm. His voice was always calm, sometimes infuriatingly so, but this time it was good – steady, an anchor.
"The – the flower killer." No. No, that wasn't right. "No – not... it was the poisoner. The one who killed... Ace." He swallowed. "I couldn't catch him. I – I was so close..."
"Miss McShane is not dead yet," Hannibal reminded him, gently but firmly, leading him along. "And the poisoner is most likely long gone by now, seeing as the crime occurred nearly a full hour ago." He paused, slightly. "You believe that the poisoner and your current quarry are one and the same?"
Will hesitated. "Yes. No. I – I don't know, I don't know what I..." He trailed off, and then said, "how is she?"
"Alive, currently," he said. "Not well, certainly, but she is alive. Doctor Smith is with her; they are en route to the nearest hospital."
"She – good." Will released a single, exhausted sigh. "Good."
Hannibal hummed in response – a low, even tone. "Yes. It will be. Come – it is warmer inside."
"Good," Will repeated – soft, tired – and they left.
Inhuman eyes watched them from the forest as they went.