The garage is stark under the light from the fluorescent tubes overhead. They glitter on the chrome and the dusty exterior of the Lincoln. A reflection in the black pool of the cars pain job. A man, tied to a hand truck, which is in turn standing in a child's wading pool. Oddly, the man looks the slightest bit limp in his restrains, his head sagging against one shoulder. A faint smell of ozone and burnt flesh hangs in the air. Emily is there, looking him over and smiling. It was the last time dear little Curtis would attempt, and fail, to fix her computer. She felt no remorse for the loss of the techie's life. She had forgotten in her overzealous glee that her daughter had helped her put the fish in the pool while they were waiting for the tank to fill. A few feeder goldfish and a guppy floated belly up in the pool, having met the same fate as Kurt.

She moves around the pool, casting an eye to the open window and glad for the breeze. Dying of carbon monoxide poisoning while she had been electrocuting Curtis had not been her idea of a pleasant afternoon. A glance at the instructions for the jumper cables and she begins to detach them from his hands as she would from a car. Bits of flesh cling to the metal alligator clamps and she notes that she'll have to find some way to remove it. Ripples bounce through the pool's surface as she bumps it with a foot. Thankfully he is attached to the hand truck. Much easier to move around, but how to get rid of this body? That was the hard part, she had decided, not the killings themselves, but the disposal of the bodies afterwards. The most unique one so far was Lisa, who, thanks to Hannibal's efforts while Emily was indisposed after her shower, was tucked away neatly in the freezer.

Leaning in the open driver's door, Emily reached for the trunk release lever. She straightened at the noise, bumping her head on the door sill. The garage was opening, and she watched as the crack of light grew larger. Did she hit the opener in the car while she was reaching for the trunk release? No. Maybe it was malfunctioning again, which would mean that she would have to call the repairman tomorrow morning. Then she realized what the underlying noise above the sound of the screw-drive was, the unmistakable purr of a Jaguar. Fingers flew to the door opener in her car, halting the upward progress of the door and another tap started it on a downward journey again.

Panic seized Emily as she backed out of the door and threw the bag containing the jumper cables into the trunk of the car, slamming the trunk shut. Muttered curses in three different languages as the door began to rise again. This wasn't happening! Trouser clad legs black against the light outside, lengthening into a body as the door climbed upward. The figure ducking under the door now and seeing the hand come up, thumbing the opener once more, halting the door, again, hastening its descent. Well, at least he had enough sense to close the door before confronting her. She was diving across the trunk now, scurrying to close the window. To put some distance between her and him, and perhaps find a suitable item for her defense.

Emily's breathing is loud in the garage, and she rests a hand against the old oil powered heater under the window. He is taking in Curtis' limp body, the pool, the dead guppies and goldfish, and the open hood of the Lincoln. As if returning the jumper cables to their proper place would mislead him. Slow as his eyes leave her latest victim and find her. Her breathing still the only sound as the consider each other. His dark head drops for a moment, losing her gaze, then rises, as if he were composing himself. He was at an angle from which the roof of the car hid his lower half from her view. She didn't see the hand that dipped into his pocket and emerged with the hypodermic.

"Emily."

"Hannibal."

Deadly maroon eyes meeting the just as deadly blue-grey ones. A meeting of killers on what should be the common ground of a murder scene.

"Who is he?" A nod at the limp body.

"Curtis. The techie who couldn't fix my computer, again."

Hannibal nods, "Come out here Emily."

A wariness in her eyes, knowing she is a trapped animal. Briefly her thoughts drift to Mischa napping in the living room, Barney laying on the floor in the kitchen after she attacked him with the tranquilizer. A moment's consideration of his order. "Show me your hands, Hannibal."

He raises them slowly, slipping the hypodermic up his sleeve before his hands come into her view. A satisfied nod and she comes around the nose of the car. Her right hand, shielded from view by her body, closes around a vise grip wrench. Her arm drops limply to her side as she calculates her movements. It is a futile attempt, but she has to make the attempt. He doesn't understand why she needs to do this. He thinks he knows, but he doesn't. He can't, since he has long forgotten that he made her into this. He stepped from the forefront and left her to take up the fight.

"Emily…" his voice is quiet, almost soothing as she edges around the drivers side headlight. There is about a foot and a half of space between the pool and the car's fender. Once more he is surprised at her speed and grace as she overcomes the gap between them, hand coming up in an arc with the wrench. Like Clarice and her candlestick, but Emily is not under the influence of morphine and has control over her actions. She swings towards his head and feels her wrist caught in his vise-like grip. A snap of bone is heard as he wrenches her wrist to make her lose the vise grip. Flash of surprise in both pairs of eyes, pain for two different reasons in them as well. No loss, Emily is growling and coming up with her left hand, sharp nails raking across his face. He catches her and sees the red of blood on her fingernails as he pushes her back forcefully against the Lincoln's rear door. The glass shatters in the window at the impact, but remain in place, held by the tinted window film. The car rocks as he presses forth with intent. Emily bares her teeth at him, trying to reach him once more.

A turning of the tide momentarily, and he is once more reminded of the kitchen on Chesapeake as she pushes back against him. He is driven back a few steps and her face becomes a bit close to his throat for any real comfort. He easily overpowers her and Emily flies back against the car door again. The force of her back hitting the roofline knocks the breath out of her and she doubles over slightly. The opportunity he was looking for. Her hand is loosed while she is bent and the hypodermic slides easily into his hand. Deftly the cap is removed and is slipped into her arm. Her eyes cut to the intruding needle and she is suddenly upright. She growls once again and tenses for another drive against him. The sedative is quick, much quicker than what she used on Barney. She feels the strength in her legs waver and then the wobble as she begins to sink. Her eyes meet his right before she completes her slide to the floor. In that heart wrenching second Hannibal almost regrets having done this to her.

*****

Emily rests unconscious and restrained in the passenger seat of the Jaguar an hour later. The car itself is in the garage now, and the aftermath of her latest kill is not to be seen. The body of Curtis rests neatly wrapped in a tarp in the trunk. Dr. Lecter is inside the house making arrangements with Barney to care for Mischa while they are away. A call to the office in Larkspur puts them under the assumption that the Rinaldis are headed off for an impromptu vacation, trying to rekindle a little romance in the marriage. Hannibal'

s eyes are dark and heavy as he finally enters the garage once again and slides into the drivers seat. Not wanting to draw attention he looses the ropes that bind Emily to the leather seat. The only restraint left as he thumbs the garage door opener is the seat belt. He feels a pang of guilt as he looks at the splint on her wrist. He had indeed broken it when he had grabbed it. A promise broken, as he had sworn never to hurt his sweet, sweet Emily. He looks away and puts the Jag into reverse, easing down the driveway into the clammy San Francisco night.

*****