Ummmm… Are we all still here? Everyone alive? Just needed to check before we went on. Next time we'll test the Emergency Alert System beforehand, okay? Dedications, well I don't do them often, but this one is going out to my reviewers: troesnaja, little-starling, Kurt, Lady Ayisha, Saavik, Steel, Nanci, Talisman, Claire Starling, chameleon302, LadyOfTruths, and Memor Sol Solis. Thanks for the words of encouragement, threats, and just being here throughout this thing. Really huge Super Big Gulp sized thanks to my volunteers: Chameleon, Troesnaja, and Kurt. Oh, and Steel, we're nearing the end so I can't throw you in here, but I'd be keeping an eye out in the next story. Perhaps we can arrange a little trip to Trinidad, CO for you as well.

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The afternoon sun glints oddly off the knife as it cuts through the heavy air of the kitchen. It meets with resistance as she hears her name ring out above the whickering whisper of the knife edge. Soft flesh rendered in an instant that cannot be retracted no matter how much we wish it. It is at the sight of the torn skin and the ripped shirt that she realizes this. It is as the metallic stink of warm blood fills the air that she realizes this. She cannot release the knife as it continues on its path of destruction. Only once it is free from the resisting flesh does it loose from her hand, sent flying with force into the wall above the sink. It trembles in the drywall, a score across the wall where its left its mark. She has never seen pain like this in his eyes before now and she cannot stand it. She watches as he crumples at her feet, hand pressed to the rent flesh. The trail on the wall is marked with his blood as she looks from it to the man on his knees before her.

"No!" the cry is sharp and sudden, hurting her throat and her ears, piercing into her very depths and shattering the mirror that lies within. Her legs are gone from beneath her as she falls to the floor, reaching out to him. She cannot stop looking into his eyes, seeing the pain there. He grunts and she reaches out to him with trembling hands. her fingers fly to his face, across his cheek and the parted lips. Down, to the long bloody path that marks his chest. The white linen button-down is rapidly blossoming crimson. She feels something hot and wet on her cheeks, a burning in her eyes. With a bloody hand she wipes the tears away, yet they continue to come. Her mind forces her into her emergency training from med school, thankfully before her body shuts down on her. Emily is torn as she steps past him in to the bathroom. There is a first aide kit under the sink. Well prepared, and she finds as she pries the plastic casing open. Hannibal had planned for a number of eventualities and she was thankful for that.

Hannibal looks rather pale now as Emily comes back into the kitchen. The tears are still running down her face and interfering with her vision as she gently eases him to lay on the floor. With professional ease she tugs the shirt away and pressed a towel against the wound she had caused. She removed the towel and examined the cut. No more than in inch deep, cutting diagonally across his chest at a slight angle. Oh god, she only caught him with the tip of the knife. It was a relief and she managed a deep breath as she began to dig through the first aide kit. Unfortunately, the deep breath triggered a series of hiccups as she began to tend to the wound. She kept an eye on his reactions as she worked, deftly suturing the wound and bandaging it. The hiccups made her a bit nervous as she worked and she was mentally cursing herself for it. She sat back on her heels after she was done, still trying to blink tears away and fight her hiccups. There was blood on the linoleum of the kitchen, and all over her hands. She knelt there for an eternity, watching his face, listening to his breathing as he lay there with his eyes closed.

Pain, he was still in pain, and she had just done all of this without anesthetic. She began berating herself for that as well as she dug through the kit again. Every eventuality, and she knew there had to be some in there, since he had given her some after she had bashed her wrist into the wall. There! The small vile of morphine and a syringe. She didn't know that he was watching her now as she measured out a dose. He had closed his eyes again as she turned back and bent to slip the needle into his arm. As she was recapping the syringe she felt a hand on her arm. It did her no good and she jumped up backing hard against the fridge. The hiccups which had just abandoned her came back full force. Sobs rose in her throat, choking off anything that she might have had to say.

"Help me to the couch, Emily." he whispered and she nodded. The floor had to be rather uncomfortable. With great care she escorted him into the living room. She sat on the coffee table looking at him as he lay on the couch. He noted that she avoided his eyes.

"Emily." she turned away at the sound of his voice issuing forth her name. "Emily, please, look at me." Slowly, the head turned. There was blood streaked across her cheek, along with a few strands of hair stuck in it. Tears continued to track down her face as she stared at him.

"I was not going to condemn you for killing anyone, Emily. I understand what you did, even if I was refusing to acknowledge that. If you had waited…"

She was on her feet, hands balled into fists at her sides. "But I was going to kill you. Do you not understand that?! It didn't matter anymore, I saw my mother in you and I was going to kill you so that I could kill her!"

"You didn't kill me though, Emily."

"That's not the point!" she protested, choking back sobs that were threatening to overtake her. Her body trmebled violently as she sat before him. She seemed so much smaller in that moment.

"It is though. Look inside yourself, Emily, and tell me what you see."

And she did. She listened to him for the first time that day and turned her thoughts inward. Standing there in the Carnigie Library, and finding nothing but silence. Walking slowly towards the doors that she knew led to her own imprisonment, her own cell in Memphis, where she knew the shadows of the past waited for her. The blood stained floors that held the memories of her victims, the walls that echoed with the lambs' screams. Slowly she went towards them, reaching for the doors with the forsted glass windows. Her own dungeon, a room she shared with him, had made her own. She drew a deep breath as she reached for the handle in the silent hall. It was open then, and she stepped inside.

The cage was still there, there was still blood on the floors, but something was different. Timid steps across the room, wood floor polished against bare feet. She reached for the door to the cell, which stood open before her. It creaked on its hinges as she touched it and she knew. She was no longer imprisoned by her shadows. It had been so long since she had tasted freedom. Silence in the Memphis room, as she stared at the cage. Footsteps quiet behind her, and an arm coming up around her shoulders.

"Free, Emily."

When she opened her eyes she found herself kneeling next to the couch, her head resting near his as she cried.

"What do you see, Emily?" the question that had been asked so many times of her. Emily wiped away the tears and raised herself to look deep into his. Pinpricks of red fly towards his center as she watches, looking to the mirror that lies inside him. The reflecting pool shows her what she expects, a reflection of herself.

"I see me."

"You've learned control, Emily. You've released yourself and have dominated your darkness. Yet, as you can see, you have not lost anything. I am still in you and you are still in me."

"Just alike." she smiled, for the first time in this house.

"Just alike." he agreed. "Incipit vita nuova. And not down the path of darkness."

"Yes, I've a new life, Hannibal."

*****

FIN

Not the best ending, IMHO, but it works. (Kinda like the ending to Hannibal. Not entirely satisfying, but merely a way of tying up loose ends. No offense, Tom.) Hope you all enjoyed. Until next time.

-Sam