Hannibal was lounging in the comfortable leather chair at Dr Chilton's desk, having convinced his PA to allow the surprise visit, when the shorter psychiatrist entered his office.
"Frederick, how wonderful to see you."
He paused, hovering by the door before eventually shutting it. "I heard you had come back."
"Please," he gestured to the seat on the other side of the desk.
After several seconds, he made stiff strides to accept the invitation. "To what do I owe this blatant power play?"
Lecter's lips pursed, his expression remaining affable. "I am simply checking in to ensure we are still in agreement."
Chilton sighed, his forehead creasing. "I still choose to live, Hannibal, if that is what you're asking."
A small smile pulled at his lips as he leaned his forearms onto the desk between them. "Your new ear is remarkable. You can hardly tell it's not yours."
The other man visibly squirmed. "All I remember is being knocked out and waking up to Grace Mason killing him. There won't be any problems from me."
His dark eyes glowed as he stood to leave. "When I get around to hosting a dinner party, I'll be sure to mail you your invitation."


Will arrived into Agent Crawford's office the day after they had been in Pittsburg, his eyes showing surprise when he spotted Alana Bloom in the far corner of the room. She gave him a concerned look as Jack pointed to the board of pinned images from the three recent killings.
"I couldn't get much out of you yesterday, Will. I'm hoping you're more insightful today."
The profiler stepped closer to the board, his eyes scanning the photographs of the crime scenes. "What do we know so far?"
"Not much. The security system was hacked again- all CCTV recordings from the night were irretrievably deleted. No fingerprints at the scene. They didn't get much from the lipstick on her cheek either… We did find a strand of synthetic hair in the bedroom, and the nightguard reported the victim returning to the hotel with a pink-haired woman around two AM… I was starting to think we're dealing with a 'femme fatale' type but…"
Alana took a step towards them. "Could it not be a 'femme fatale' with no gender preference, Jack?"
He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. "It could… I was referring to the recent link we found between all three victims. Or rather, Freddie Lounds found."

Will's attention snapped to the older man.
"Each of their companies had public scandals in recent years. After a few weeks, their legal teams managed to squash it and it looks like they were all mostly swept under the rug."
"What kind of scandals?" His gaze narrowed.
"The first was the CEO of one of the largest pharmaceutical companies in Europe. It was reported that one of their labs in Belgium was unsafely disposing hazardous waste from the drugs they were making… It got into the surrounding water supply and caused hundreds of locals to become ill, most with kidney failure… Investigations were done, but when it was ruled that there was no wrongdoing, some tabloid newspapers accused the company of paying off the environmental protection officer. Nothing came of it."
The profiler tilted his head to one side, a shift occurring within his eyes. "And the second?"
"Accused of selling arms to terrorist organisations in the middle east, including chemical weapons."
He shook his head, his attention flickering to the image of the latest crime scene. What made you different? "The third?"
Jack sighed. "She was accused of allowing a human trafficking ring to use her yachts to bring girls between countries, after being paid to look the other way."

Will exhaled through his nose as his gaze roamed over the entire board. "This is a righteous killer… Only going after the corrupted who evaded justice."
The FBI agent's jaw tensed. "We can't have a goddamn vigilante running around murdering people… We need to stop this."
"Before the public starts asking uncomfortable questions about our legal system?" He raised an eyebrow at him, his eyes defiant.
The other man's response was a warning. "Not the time, Will."
Alana spoke then, distracting them. "That explains the donations- why each charity was different."
The profiler's gaze darkened as he imagined the killer using the victims' face to access their phones after slaughtering them, in order to make the contribution. A reminder of why she did what she did.

"I better get going, I have appointments this afternoon." She gave Will a sympathetic smile. "I'll call you later?"
He nodded as she left, his eyes still distant.
Jack rubbed his forehead, his attention remaining on the board. "Where is this woman?"
The disquiet that the shade of lipstick caused in his mind was growing, and he attempted to ignore that piece of evidence and focus on the rest. "She's already gone."
He scowled at the younger man. "How do we find her? How do we prevent the next one?"
His brow furrowed as he paused in thought for a moment. "I think I need to resume my therapy with Dr Lecter."
The agent's eyes widened as they flashed to him. "What caused the sudden change of heart?"
Will's expression hardened, his gaze unfocused. "You said it yourself- I do my best work when Hannibal's inside my head."
"And the real reason?"
He regarded him cautiously. "If I can catch two murderers instead of one… Isn't that a bonus?"
A heavy sigh caused his chest to heave, his tall frame suddenly weary. "Do what you need to do to find this killer, but make sure you're certain before you throw around more accusations. Others may not be as understanding."


Grace landed in Chicago the following day, scrolling through her phone as she waited for her rental car. TattleCrime popped up in her newsfeed, the headline catching her eye.
'Vigilante femme fatale kills corrupt millionaries'.
She swiftly clicked on it, skimming the article to find the names of her victims. The reporter must have also spoken to one of the staff who found Stephanie before the police arrived, as she narrated the crime scene with more detail than officials gave in their press statement. Curious, Grace moved to the comment section at the bottom of the page.
'If it's true, they got what they deserved. I say we leave her to it.'
Her gazed darkened as she read several other comments imparting similar sentiments.
"Mrs Dubois? Your car." She glanced up to find a man holding out a set of keys for her. "We only had the convertible in red, I hope that isn't too much of an inconvenience."
With a wicked smile, she took the keys. "None at all."


"Will?" Hannibal had answered an unexpected knock on his door that evening to find the other man clad in a navy shirt on his doorstep.
"Jack just told me you had come back to Baltimore; I thought I would pay a visit."
The psychiatrist's smile was genuine as he stepped aside. "Come in."
Will followed him into the living room.
"Can I get you anything to drink?" His host hovered in the middle of the room, his expression polite.
"No, thank you… This isn't strictly a social visit, Hannibal. I was hoping to continue my therapy now that you're back."
A flash of surprise entered his features as he regarded the other man. "Bedelia told me you never reached out to make an appointment."
He exhaled quickly, his jaw tense. "I didn't think I needed it, since I took a step back from the FBI."
"Is that no longer the case?" His gaze was studying him now, noticing minute differences in his appearance. His once untamed brown curls were now styled into a more presentable slicked-back haircut, although dark circles still nestled under his deep blue eyes.
"No." His frame stiffened before moving to one of the armchairs.

Hannibal joined him shortly after, sitting in the opposing seat. "What made you decide to go back?"
He leaned into the back of the chair, inhaling deeply. "There's a new serial killer."
Crossing his legs, the psychiatrist slightly inclined his head to one side. "I'm sure there have been many over the past two years. What makes this one different?"
Will scoffed. "Jack needed help with this one."
"As great an agent as Jack is, I'm sure he would have appreciated the help on other cases too. Your imagination is a welcomed fastrack to any investigation."
He avoided his gaze, glancing at the artwork on the wall instead.

After a moment of deliberation, he spoke. "You probably already heard about the 'femme fatale' killer." He moved his attention back to him before continuing, his tone derisive. "Freddie Lounds is going viral with it."
Dr Lecter nodded, his eyes narrowing on his patient. "There's recently been a third… Officially a serial killer."
He swallowed, his expression shifting. "That's the case I'm working on."
Several seconds elapsed. "Did you receive my letters, Will?"
His forehead creased, his thoughts jarred by the change in topic. "I did… I'm sorry I didn't write back. I wasn't replying to anyone."
Hannibal's mouth thinned. "You needed a break. We both did." Intrigue then burned in his dark eyes as he observed him carefully. "Was it difficult to get into a killer's mind again, after all this time?"
He sighed, his gaze becoming distant. "I'm out of practice."
"That doesn't mean your gift has been dulled… You just have to find it again."
"That's what I'm hoping you'll help with."
The traces of a crooked smile played on the psychiatrist's lips. "Happily."

"This new one is different… She's virtuous." His brow furrowed.
The sliver of amusement in Hannibal's eyes was masked enough to be hidden from the other man. "That is the first difference in your mind? Not that this killer is female?"
His shoulders stiffened as he averted his gaze. "The gender of the person does not affect how I work."
"But it should bear some weight in this case, considering the alleged approach… When it comes to catching them, how they do it can be more useful information than why they do it."
Will wagged his head side to side. "Debatable."
Dr Lecter acquiesced. "You said she is… Virtuous?"
"Her choice of victims." He offered nothing else.
"I read about them on Freddie Lounds' website this morning…" He raised an eyebrow. "Is it any easier to empathise with this one, given that her victims aren't entirely innocent?"
Will's gaze hardened as he allowed a neutral veil to fall across his features. "I think the clear message that she is sending is making it easier to see through her eyes; the victims themselves don't necessarily come into play."
Hannibal's dark gaze glowed. "What message is that?"
His jaw clenched. "Justice."


Two weeks later Grace was in Philadelphia on a humid night, standing in an elevator like she had three times before. Her companion was considerably larger this time, a gym and instagram-obsessed, six-foot tall twenty-nine year old who admittedly was not bad to look at. Excitement from a new challenge usurped intimidation in her mind as she followed him into yet another luxurious suite. She noticed how they all looked the same, as if all the millionaires in the country decided on one type of decor and art for every five-star hotel. It had become dull to her, and she probably wouldn't frequent these places without her present choice of thrill to brighten it up.

She took a seat at the vanity table, reapplying her lipstick in the mirror as Andrew Reid took off his grey suit jacket.
"Can I ask you a question, Andrew?" She threw him a sideways glance as she fluffed up her brunette curls.
"Anything," his voice was fervorous.
"When you decided to pay that hitman to kill your business partner and his family... Did you ever have second thoughts?"
His gaze flashed with equal parts suspicion and anger. "Who are you?"
Her smile was mischievous as she stood up to face him. "The consequences of your actions."

His muscles immediately coiled to spring at her, tackling her into the vanity table causing the mirror to shatter.
As a large shard of glass tore into her left forearm, she sucked a sharp breath through clenched teeth before digging her stiletto in his thigh at the same time that she pulled the glass out of her skin.
Andrew instinctively jerked back before striking once again, this time punching her in the face.
Grace smirked despite the blood spilling from her lip as he grabbed her upper arms and yanked her to her feet.
"You stupid bitch!" He threw her against the far wall, watching her back hit it with enough force to leave a dent in the plaster.

She glanced up at him through hooded eyes from where she lay on the floor, the remnants of a smile still on her face. "You shouldn't have done that."
His long strides had him looming over her in seconds. His hand was then around her throat, holding it tightly as he lifted her up and held her against the wall. His grasp continued its attack on her neck, cutting off her airway as she squirmed beneath his grip.
When Grace noticed he was left-handed, her eyes brightened as she used the piece of glass in her right hand to cut the skin over his bicep. When he released her throat, she pulled out the knife she had attached to her right thigh with a garter- the slit in the dress proving to be very convenient. With frenzied lunges she stabbed him repeatedly, causing blood to ooze from his abdomen out through his white shirt. His eyes widened with fear as she pierced the skin just under his ribcage next, precisely angling the blade upwards until it penetrated his heart. As he began to slump backwards, she pulled the knife from his chest and pushed his large frame towards the bed, a flash of relief appearing across her countenance as he landed on top of it.

She then busied herself with cleaning the room.