Kudos and Scooby snacks to Talisman and Kurt. The song was 'Last Dance with Mary Jane' by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. Shows what happens late at night while listening to a CD and typing a story. Okay, final chapters. Thanks for sticking with me, dear ones, it has been one hell of a ride. Okey dokey then, here we go.

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Three days and three nights. So much less than the forty days and nights spent by both Noah on his Ark and Jesus in the desert. Three days and nights, for a total of seventy-two hours. Which equated itself to a total of four thousand three hundred twenty minutes, which then equated itself to two hundred fifty nine thousand and two hundred seconds, each second being measured by a solemn tick of the clock on the bedroom wall. And not a word had been spoken by Emily in those seventy two hours. She had drawn breath, she had eaten and slept, she had visited the bathroom during those seventy two hours, but she had not spoken a word. Not even the simplest of pleasantries or comments had passed her lips. No 'Thank yous' or 'pleases' were uttered as she sat at the small dining table in the kitchen. No reaction whatsoever when Hannibal spoke to her. She had retreated far into the depths of her memory palace, content to sit in the warm afternoon sun as it poured through the windows of the library's rotunda.

She was withdrawn and she knew it to be wearing on him. It must be a tremendous weight to carry, and she knew that he would tire of it soon. His patience was wearing thin with each passing sweep of the second hand on the clock. She could see it in his words and his actions, which were becoming clipped and brasher each time he came into her presence. She had decided against luring him into the false sense of security that had worked before. Now she wanted to expose the monster that was deep within him, make him look into the depthless pools of its eyes. So, even though it had taken seventy two hours of silence, it had been worth it. The deadbolt on the door slid back and she sat up in the bed. The door swung open and she met his eyes for the briefest of seconds before looking away at the stream of sunlight that came through her windows. If she listened hard enough, she could hear a slamming door in his palace, in one of the adjoining rooms. She looked up and realized that the sound was more real than it should be as he had also slammed the bedroom door.

Hannibal Lecter, no matter how close you are to the man, no matter how many times you have shared his thoughts, his heart, or his bed, is not a man to press. The maroon eyes are darkened from a lack of sleep and restraint. A line has been crossed, drawn in the sand, stepped over, and promptly forgotten. Emily had passed her final threshold three days back, upon her first awakening in this prison. His had been passed as he had crossed into the room today. So here they were, locked in a room little more roomier than his cell in the dungeon. It would be wiser to step into the cage of a Komodo dragon than to enter into this territory now. His movements are precise and slow as he takes seat in front of the closet. She stares at him, the eyes of a huntress stalking her prey from the brush. His eyes are equally intense, measuring every breath she drew in.

It was a battle of wills as they sat there, in absolute silence. To say that you could hear a pin drop would be a gross understatement of the situation. Hannibal waved his arm to the opposing arm chair, eyes never leaving his wife. It is not wise to divert your attention from a caged animal, especially one that has been known to kill before.

"Come sit, Emily."

It was not an offer, or a request. It was a demand, an order, barely cloaked in civil tones. Slowly, Emily unfolded herself from the bed and stood on the floor beside it. Seven steps brought her to the chair and she did not sit. She merely stood there, almost facing him, as if taunting him.

"Sit, Emily." He commanded once more. She didn't move.

"I am not a dog, Hannibal." the cold steel in her voice was as sharp as a razor. She looked down on him, perhaps for the first time seeing what it was to momentarily have the upper hand over the famed sociopath. If there had been anything holding him back, it was gone in that instant as Emily found herself thrown bodily back into the chair. It rocked backward from the force leaving a crack in the closet door. He was over her then, left forearm pressed against her throat as he lowered his face inches from hers. His right hand held her left wrist hostage against the arm of the chair. She was immobile now, not willing to further injure her right wrist, which was the only mobile part of her body to strike with. Not once, did her eyes leave his as he bore down on her with an unwavering intent. Her breath came in rasps as pressed forward.

"Do not think to tempt me, Emily. You are no longer the woman I knew. What has become of you?" The metallic rasp is even more pronounced in his whisper. Teeth bared as he waits for an answer.

"Incipit vita nuova, Hannibal." she replied. The pressure lessened enough for her to take a deep breath.

"To begin the new life."

"Glad you remember your Italian." the snide remark earned her reinstated pressure on her windpipe. He could kill her now, and she wondered if he would.

"Don't toy with me, Emily."

"You said I wasn't the woman you knew. That is correct. I am what I am today because of you."

"Because of me?"

Undaunted by the lack of air Emily continued on, ignoring his slight protest that he could have something to do with this. "My mother made me what I am, taught me what it was to be a monster. I allowed myself to taste what that was like after my father died. I tucked it away, stayed silent for all these years, until I met you. You drew the monster back out into the light, made me look at it, face it and accept it. You turned me into something completely Other like yourself. You forged what I was to become and I accepted."

She could see him begin to deny his actions once again, but she did not let him.

"I didn't take your life when it was offered because you and I really are just alike. You killed because you sought revenge on those who had hurt you. You saw your victims as personifications of the men who took away your sister. I sought revenge for the same reason, on those who lived along the same lines as my mother. I wanted revenge Hannibal, but you don't want me to have it."

The words cut him, and he pulled back enough to look at her. Something in his eyes she had seen before. That look when her mother had been told she was wrong. The look of contempt that had always accompanied Emily throughout her life. The second person in her life who had made her face her own darkness was turning on her. Just like mother. The arm was sufficiently removed from her throat now, and the grip on her wrist was the tiniest bit slack as he weighed whether she had spoken the truth. With all of her strength, Emily pushed forward from the chair. Her spontaneous movement was enough to throw him off balance and she ducked past him and grasped for the door knob. The steel door swung open as she scrambled towards the kitchen. A chef's knife sat on the counter and she lunged for it as Hannibal came into the kitchen, precious inches behind her.

Emily swung round, knife at the ready, slicing quickly the distance between them. There was no conscious thought from her as she glares at him. His voice is loud in the kitchen, over the whispering sound of the blade through the air. Scant millimeters away from him as he yells out to her.

"Emily, no!"

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