Andouillette

Baltimore, Dr. Lecter's office, 8:24am

Silence.

Silence is a common friend in Hannibal's office, especially when William is the focus of the hour. He stands; shaggy haired and lifeless, just staring out of the window at the new dawn on old nightmares. Hannibal had asked Will to come in for the early session so that his dreams were still completely fresh in his mind, and easier for Lecter to interpret. Though, normally, a 'watered-down' version of the interpretation was given to Will for reasons that he best not know.

Sitting on the edge of his desk, Hannibal watches Will; The slump in his shoulders and slight sway in his stance from mental and physical exhaustion, the stains of mud and pen on his trousers and jacket sleeve which have gone unnoticed by the sleep-deprived and nightmare-ridden man. As the light slowly brightens from the windows, Will turns away blinking.

Lecter stands and walks towards one of the leather seats and extends a hand in the direction of its twin, "Will, why don't you come sit down?"

That's the first time that morning he had looked at Lecter; expression as if startled from a deep thought before returning to its usual, mournful, disposition. "No, I'd prefer to stand thank you." Will turns on his heel and walks, staring up at the defining feature of Hannibal's office; his book collection. "I'm getting worse." Will murmurs, lowering his head and closing his eyes, "I'm becoming... dangerous."

"In what way?" Hannibal crosses his legs and returns his gaze to his patient from the clock.

At this, Will suddenly clamps his hands down on the back of the leather chair and exclaims "haven't you been listening to me in these sessions? You know the monstrous thoughts and dreams I have. The line between my mind and other people's is blurring too much for me to know what's real and what's not anymore." Their eyes lock; one partner showing confusion, anger and pain, the other; nothing. Just a cold, hazel stare.

"Will, please sit down." Will nods and slides into the chair opposite. "Will?" He had gone again; staring into the abyss of his own thoughts, a dangerous thing for one who has so much darkness to ponder.

"I woke up in the middle of the road this morning, five miles away from my house." Will says, staring out of the window; eye contact still a problem. "What woke you?"

"A car horn." He sounds uninterested, but his composure and jittering leg betrays him. Suddenly his gaze turns to Hannibal, and the fury and worry of the situation is undoubtable. "I made a car swerve off the road and stop. I could have killed someone with what I was doing?" Will then throws his unkempt hair into his hands and shakes his head furiously.

"Will," Lecter begins, "are you not worried that it may have been you that was injured or killed by the oncoming car this morning?" Hannibal puts his pen and pad onto his side table and uncrosses his legs, leaning forward to face Will.

The poor boy looks up, eyes on the brink of tears from lack of sleep and his inner turmoil. "No." He gets up and walks back towards the window, "that would be quite the welcome outcome I'd imagine."

This is Hannibal's cue. "Will, your worry for other people and your concern for those people in that car are a strong sign that you are still very much yourself." Will looks at Hannibal, interested in his explanation. "You could have been badly injured, even killed this morning, yet your first concern was the well-being of others. This is not the first thought of a mentally unstable person. Even 'regular' people, who haven't had to witness the horrors that you have, would think of themselves before others; think how lucky they are to be alive, or traumatised by the experience."

"My dreams aren't normal though." He looks back to the window. "My dreams are not of a 'sound-mind' and they are not 'myself'. They are dark and suggesting and..." At that moment Hannibal's office phone rings.

Both turn to look at the disturbance before Hannibal stands with "I'm sorry Will" and motions to quell the noise. "Hello? Sorry but I'm currently with a patient... Oh, hello Agent Crawford... Yes, William is here... Sorry, but we are in the middle of a session... I cannot allow that... Very well I shall pass you over." Hannibal moves to the side as William walks over and takes the receiver.

"Hello Jack..." as William talks with Crawford, Hannibal walks round his desk and sits himself in his chair. Interlocking his fingers and resting his elbows on his desk, Lecter watches his patient as his face ranges through emotions during the conversation. "Yes... Mhhm, I understand... Very well I shall see you as soon as I can." Will puts the receiver down and raises his head to the ceiling, letting out an exasperated sigh as he does so.

"There's been another murder, at Old City Hall in Richmond." Will explains as he turns away from Lecter, hands running down his face in frustration. "Will, we are still in your session, " Hannibal begins, stepping out behind his desk, "I advise that you stay here."

"I can't," Will whispers shaking on his coat, "there's multiple victims and Jack's low on staff." The mans voice is wrought with exhaustion, though one would guess from his body language alone that a break from his current life was sorely needed. Hannibal knew this, and that Hannibal's own little games and mental crossroads hinder his situation further; But Will's mind, to Lecter, is like prime cut meat; succulent and ready for carving. "Well then I shall accompany you." Hannibal exclaims as he buttons up his jacket and walks to retrieve his own coat. "You have clients," Will says in sleepy protest, "I don't want you to be late on account of me."

"Will, I do not wish for you to go alone considering your current emotional state," Lecter explains, fastening his coat and extending a hand for Will to lead the way. "Also, we are still on your hour Will and I doubt Agent Crawford would object to my being there." Once out of his study, Hannibal locks the door before turning to his weary friend, "and don't worry about my appointments; you were my last till 3:45." Seeing his usual half smile, Will accepts Lecters' explanation and nods before leading the way out of Hannibal's home and to his car.

Richmond, Old City Hall, 9:54am

Beautiful. Pure artistry. The vibrant colours of red, white and blue showing true patriotism throughout, with gold leaf accenting every intricate detail. The glass ceiling, naturally illuminating the architects fine work along with the well placed chandeliers, a defining feature of this building.

Yes; the elegant rise and falls of each archway, precise attention to detail, the history and regal presence of this building is perfect. Few structures could eclipse the beauty this one provides.

The perfect gallery for showcasing a masterpiece. The bodies are all placed in a circular formation; six in a circle with one in the centre. The first six have had their knees bent, with legs draping over a circular, steel framework. The centre corpse's body is straight, with its arms out as if crucified.

All suspended from the ceiling.

Skin peeled.

Hannibal looks up at the monstrous beauty before him, pondering and remarking upon the technique and showmanship exhibited. The haunting creak of the rope from the carcasses swinging in the breeze permeates throughout the halls and stairways; no doubt a symphony strategically made by it's morbid composer.

William and Crawford can be heard deep in conversation, "The cleaner came in this morning and found them. We've taken a statement from her; we believe the substance that dripped onto her was the wax from the candles in the victims' hands." As Crawford explains they make their way from the entrance to the scene itself. "I shall need to get onto the first floor, where the bodies are hung please." Will's monotone voice brings Hannibal's attention back, vaguely. "I should get a better profile from there."

"Yes, of course," Crawford says. Jack walks with Will to the staircase and points up the steps. "up the stairs and to the left," He motions for Agent Zeller to come forward; stopping him from his photo-capturing, "Zeller shall accompany you." Crawford nods, signalling for the both to depart up the stairs. "Though I'm not sure how much help I will be, when they obviously weren't murdered or skinned here." Will sighs, staring at the dangling bodies. "Anything would be of help Will, we have scoured the entire grounds and there were no signs of blood, DNA or break-in."

"Have you checked the ceiling?"

Hannibal halts from his appraisals and turns to see the owner of the voice; a sound so pleasantly familiar, a smile threatens the corners of his mouth. "Dr Locksley, Thank you for coming."

"No, thank you for calling me Agent Crawford; I was hoping to be of service again." Elizabeth bounces up to the gentlemen, her signature cheerful tone ringing throughout their bleak world.

"Good morning Mr Graham." He brushes off her smile with a nod and a mournful "Good morning" before turning to Crawford again. No doubt protesting her presence.

"Good morning Hannibal, It's good to see you again." She extends a hand out to him. He offers a uncharacteristically enlivening "And to you Elizabeth," as he shakes her hand; Her grip as strong as he remembers, though the softness of her skin hidden by the leather gloves. "I am sorry for my lack of manners and I regret not inviting you to dinner, but it seems I forgot to ask your contact details." Hannibal apologises, "I had contemplated inviting you in person, but I knew your manners and kindness would have offered me to stay a while, indebting myself to you further." He atones for his failure to return her hospitality; not wanting to reverse the pleasantries betwixt them, also silencing his anxieties of her thoughts of him.

A Handshake. An embrace. A touch. Contact was never of any concern to Hannibal; just one of the five senses, a necessity for him to interact with people and objects when and how he so wished. So it wasn't the contact but her want, kindness and altruism behind it that awoke the long buried symptom of life; his humanity.

Elizabeth looks at him with smiling eyes as she takes a gloved hand to his jacket arm, rubbing her thumb over the fabric. She leans in; her perfume becomes more evident; the smell of clean linen with a hint of rose oil. Her warmth is felt on his arm and another delicate sensation, like the brush of a butterfly wing, felt on his cheek; only to be contrasted by the coldness of her nose.

Elizabeth removes her lips from his cheek and retreats, her heels clicking as they reconnect with the marble floor. "Thank you Hannibal, that is ever so lovely of you." She begins, offering him a compelling smile. "Though there really was no need to apologise; I enjoyed your company immensely on Tuesday, so, as far as I'm concerned, you are clear of all debts." With such an acceptance, Hannibal finds himself unable to repress a smile; the same genuine smile coaxed by her last they met. However, before anymore can be said or done, Crawford interrupts with "Dr Locksley."

"Yes Agent Crawford?" Elizabeth turns to face Jack, coat swishing with her movements. "You mentioned checking the roof?"

"Yes," her tone changes; sharp, course and professional. "I'd suggest looking on the roof for prints or tissue, or possibly the venting system." Elizabeth reaches into her coat pocket, pulling out a piece of neatly folded paper. "The venting system? We have already looked over all possible entries."

"I don't doubt that Agent Crawford, but observe," Dr Locksley unfolds the paper to unveil blueprints, "the original systems by Elijah Myers were not within the building itself." Dr Locksley says, walking over to a nearby column and laying the blueprints out. "When it was first built in 1884, Myers put in a system of airways and pipes on the outside of the building, as to not detriment his elaborate designs and high quality materials." Elizabeth traces the blueprints with her finger, slow enough for Crawford to follow; as noted by Hannibal. "And they start from here." Her finger stops. "Under the Clock Tower." Hannibal says. Elizabeth turns to him, "Yes, and the Clock Tower also has two shells,"

"Two shells?" Crawford asks, straightening out and looking at Dr Locksley.

"Two walls," Hannibal explains, "Because the piping is running through the outside instead of under the floors, like standard plumbing, Myers had constructed the tower be built with a wall surrounding the original. Thus concealing the pipework." Elizabeth turns her head slightly, and Hannibal can feel her approving gaze on him as he stands, looking back at Crawford. "Would the gap generated by the pipes be enough to fit the killer, his victims and the steel through?"

"It would be enough to fit the killer through, certainly." Dr Lecter begins, "As they would be able to keep themselves upright and pull themselves up. However, it wouldn't be possible to fit the steel casing and the corpses through in one piece." To this Crawford turns his back on Dr Locksley and Hannibal and frustratedly sighs, "Well, that doesn't give us much to go on."

"Actually, Agent Crawford, it does." Miss Locksley says, stepping forward to Crawford. "Though the bodies aren't able to be brought through that way, the killer may have used that as his way to get in undetected."

"I'm listening." Crawford faces her, crossing his arms. "If I was this killer, I would have scouted out every aspect of this building; hiding places, entrances and exits, ones already existing and the possibility to make ones of my own." Hannibal listens keenly to her explanation, anticipating her undoubtedly correct verdict. "If I were the killers, I would have hidden the bodies prior to the initial assembling of the chandelier, after many hours of research and stoking out the premises, climb through the clock tower, retrieved the materials, and made my masterpiece here."

"Killers? Also you mentioned hiding the bodies?" Crawford asks, casting aside his disappointments of her from earlier, and quite rightly so by the mind of an enthralled Dr Lecter.

"Yes, I would imagine there would be at least two accomplices, to have executed this as finely and precisely as they did." Elizabeth looks back at the bodies, and Hannibal observes the slight speck of wonder in her eyes and the turn of her mouths corner. "And that is why I would look to the venting system on the ceiling;" She turns back to Agent Crawford, "the two large barrels would be more than sufficient to hide the bodies, and the current weather would keep them cold enough to halt the decomposing process." Outstanding. "So I would look to the vents on the ceiling Agent Crawford, you may have more luck in finding evidence there." Jack stands looking at her dumbstruck for a few seconds before animating back into his usual self. "Yes, thank you once again for your insight Dr Locksley."

"Please Jack, call me Elizabeth." She smiles back. Lecter stifles his own smile as he observes this; her killing him with kindness, an almost undetectable punishment for his earlier dubiety of her abilities. As Crawford walks away, Elizabeth brushes past Hannibal, making her way to the bodies and taking off her coat. The black of the fabric and fur falls away, revealing the red tartan pencil dress with black waistband detailing. Lecter watches as she walks round the bodies, examining them from every angle, before walking over himself.

"Was this how they were found?" Elizabeth asks as Hannibal walks over.

"Yes" though another answers. "The cleaner came in this morning and found them like this." Beverly Katz says, standing from her work on the substance on the floor. "The wax dripped on her head, which is always the sign in horror movies not to look up." Katz says satirically, looking at the bodies.

"Ah, I see what you mean." Elizabeth says with a slight chuckle, joining Miss Katz's gaze. "So, you a special agent or something?" Beverly's crass manner continues.

"I'm sorry, I am Elizabeth Locksley. No, I'm not entirely sure what I am, but Agent Crawford rang asking for my input." Katz takes Elizabeth's outstretched hand, before adding "Like the author?" Elizabeth laughs at this, "Yes, like the author."

"Oh, that's pretty cool then. So you're the new consultant?" Elizabeth looks at her, confused by her meaning. "Well, I am consulting Crawford, yes, but I'm not a permanent fixture."

"Oh, alright then." Kat's says, going back to her work. An awkward silence befalls them both, identifying a truth that Katz dare not utter. Though this appears to be undetected by Miss Locksley; "Sorry, I forgot to ask your name." Elizabeth says brightly, crouching down to Katz's level. "Beverly Katz, I'm a pathologist." Listening intently, Elizabeth removes her gloves and stows them into her pocket, before fitting rubber ones from Katz's kit. "Well, it's lovely to meet you Miss Katz, may I?" She points at the wax on the floor.

"Well, I still need to inspect this for any hairs or fibres, but you're more than welcome to examine this lot." With that Katz offers Locksley a container of the wax already stripped from the floor.

"Oh thank you." Hannibal watches curiously as Elizabeth sifts through the box, retrieves a sizeable piece, and examines it; Turning it to the light, feeling the texture in her hand, noting as it slowly perspires under the heat of her fingers and smelling it. "Beverly?" Dr Locksley turns to Katz, "Have you determined the substance that the candles are made of yet?" Katz turns back from giving another agent the shards of wax. "Not till we get it back to the lab, why?"

"I think they're made from human fat." On hearing this Hannibal moves to Elizabeth and crouches beside her. Miss Katz does the same, though a little more frantically. "Really? What makes you think that?"

"I came across a case like this in my time working at Broadmoor." Elizabeth explains as she stands, still examining the substance in her hand. "A psychiatric patient of mine, Gordon Reins, made candles out of the fat of his victims," She pauses and looks at the bodies as they hang, "though he did tend to make other things out of the rest of them too." Hannibal detects a slight laugh in her voice, and gives a small chortle himself at her black joke.

"You should tell Crawford." Katz says, returning her gaze to the rest of the wax. "Why don't you do it?"

"Sorry?" Katz looks at Elizabeth, in slight bewilderment. "You tell him; you know him better, and it might not be, just a hunch, so you taking credit may help me anyway." Elizabeth takes off the gloves and hands them and the wax shard back to Katz before smiling and walking to the other side of the chandelier; she appears to be looking at it intently, though this is just a ruse for Katz to grab her 15 minutes. Hannibal joins her as Katz makes her way to Crawford, "That was kind of you."

"Not really," she says to him, eyes still fixed on the corpses, "It really wasn't that hard and she would have figured it out herself anyway. Also, it's not a matter of importance and they're not going anywhere, so it's fine." Elizabeth says crudely, nodding to the bodies before turning on her heel to face the other direction.

"That's very naughty Miss Locksley." Hannibal says, though tone too amused to be taken seriously. "I know, and I shouldn't make fun of the dead," She looks at Hannibal, expression relaxed and pleasant. Then she leans in slightly and whispers "but life affords us to be naughty sometimes."

"It does indeed." Lecter smiles back as they stand there, in comfortable silence, watching the hustle bustle of the FBI. After a few moments, Elizabeth turns back to the bodies and gives a weak sigh. "What's troubling you Elizabeth?" Hannibal asks.

"I don't think your friend Mr Graham approves of my being here." Hannibal realises her grasp of what Miss Katz was implying earlier. "What makes you think that?" Already knowing the answer.

"I think he believes I'm here to replace him," Elizabeth faces him, folding her hands and resting them in front of her, "or that Agent Crawford doesn't trust his opinion anymore because Jack's asking for my help." She can read people very well. He's impressed. Elizabeth turns her head to the bodies. "And I'd hate for him to scorn or resent me, for I admire him greatly."

"In what way?" Hannibal asks, a little surprised by her last statement.

"The strength he exhibits." She says to him simply. "His ability is one of formidable insight and, to an extent, power. But the price is great. His want to help others, despite the amount of fear and anguish he must endure, is commendable; especially as it must hinder him in so many ways, some that could someday even prove fatal."

"You have a very keen insight into people Elizabeth, and so quickly." Lecter steps forward, slightly decreasing the space between them. "I imagine your time at both Broadmoor and Wakefield helped hone this ability further."

"You're Googling me Dr?" Elizabeth looks at him; eyebrow raised in mocking and an amused tone in her voice.

"Yes;" Lecter chortles, "after your impressive insight on Tuesday, I decided to research you." Their eyes meet, and she smiles at him.

However, at this moment, Hannibal notices Will making his way back down the stairs to Crawford; his reconstruction evidently finished. An involuntary sigh escapes Hannibal before turning back to Elizabeth, "Sorry," he says apologetically "I must go."

Dr Locksley turns her head, following his eye line, before returning to Hannibal with a nod, "of course, go." He shows her a smile before turning on his heel to rejoin his patient in his findings.

"They were assembled on this floor, then hoisted up into the chandelier we see." When Hannibal joins them Will had already started on the details of his reconstruction. "Now we know from the wax that they weren't skinned here." Crawford adds, looking back at the bodies; hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched and lips badly chapped showing dehydration. At this statement Lecter finds himself looking back in Miss Locksley's direction as Will continues, "Yes; the fat used may have been from other victims," she appears to turn exactly the moment he does, "but I doubt it," he sends her a pleasant smile with a slight bow of his head, hands clasped behind his back "these murderers don't want to waste anything." She returns a kind smile, lifting her hand from her coat pocket and sending him a small wave before returning her gaze to the bodies.

"Murderers?" Crawford's stern tone brings Hannibal's attention back to Will's profile. "Yes, we are dealing with a group of people." Will turns and begins to walk a few paces towards the bodies. "Yes, Dr Locksley said that we would be dealing with more than one assailant, two she estimated." Crawford's careless remark obviously burns into Will, evident in his flinching at her name, clenched hands and sharpness of turn when facing back to his colleagues. "There were at least three." Will says, venom in his words. He lifts his arms, one hand pointing to the left side of the first floor balcony and the other hand the right, "There would have been one on each side to lift the metal framing and the third," Will lowers his arms and turns to point at the floor beneath the chandelier, "was there, arranging the bodies."

Hannibal walks to Will, examining the corpses. "What about the candles?" Hannibal asks calmly, contrasting the contempt of Will's tone. "The frame work was hoisted up by the two on the balcony, and was lifted slowly allowing the third, and possible fourth, to attach and arrange the victims." Will turns to Hannibal and continues, taking off and cleaning his glasses on his jacket, "Because the bodies were being lifted at such a slow speed, the candles wouldn't have fallen off."

"So we're dealing with a group of madmen?" Agent Crawford asks, walking up behind them. "Well how many sane people do you know who'd do this?" Will snorts sarcastically. Hannibal's mouth coils faintly at the comment, knowing the answer. "Minimum of three..." Crawford continues, ignoring Will's remark and unpleasantries. "A cult? Could this be a ritual of some kind?"

"No, this was planned, meticulously." Will answers, rubbing his face with his hands, glasses captured between his middle and index finger, "If it was a ritual then this amount of bodies would have been taken in a short amount of time, thus being noticed by the media and law enforcements." Will places his glasses back on, blinking some, eyes adjusting once again and folding his arms. "Also the scene would have been messy;" He looks at the suspended corpses and their surrounding areas, "there would be prints, or at least blood, everywhere. No this was planned months in advance."

"Could this be a copy-cat?" Crawford's voice peaking with anxiety of the prospect, "Copying the Minnesota Shrike?" Crawford begins to advance towards the hanging corpses, incompetently confident in his diagnosis. However, is quickly stopped by the emotionless gesture of Will's hand on his shoulder.

"No." The gentle pressure on his shoulder causes Jack to stay his position, affording Will to step beside him "this is an answer." Will's low, bleak tone is nothing new to Hannibal; actually, he finds Will's disassociation with the number of decorative desecrations of life he is presented with is an admirable quality to Hannibal. Or, at the very least, a useful one.

Crawford looks at Will, expression dark with question and anticipation "An answer? To what?"

"To Jacob Hobbs I'd suspect." Will turns on his heel and walks away from the scene. Will takes his glasses off and begins to capriciously clean them; giving him an acceptable pastime for his hands and empt excuse to look down. His bitter humour shines in his voice as he continues "It's taunting us." Hannibal catches this breath of realisation. Will pivots and looks at Jack, volume of his voice higher for his employers' benefit, "They're taunting us; 'You went crazy over the Minnesota Shrike, let's see what you make of this.'" Will's hand movements erratic in his dimly humorous expression of point.

William shuffles to the other side of Jack, hands in pockets and examining the room Jack follows his movements "Like a game? Like they're competing?" but Hannibal turns away from his colleagues to the open ceiling. The sun has made a solitary appearance, beaming upon the corpsed chandelier like lights at an art gallery.

"Yes." Will can be heard behind Hannibal, breaking him from his gazing and turn back to his colleagues. Sensing Will's tiredness and lack of life, Hannibal interjects before Crawford has a chance "I think it would be wise to lower the bodies Agent Crawford." Hannibal strides back into the group and places a hand on Will's shoulder, "as new evidence will present itself and allow Will more to examine, thus giving you more answers."

Looking at Lecter, Jack's split-second expression of bewilderment amuses Hannibal for a fraction of time before it was gone. "Yes, I feel you may be right Dr, Please excuse me."

With Jack's departure Will relaxes; his shoulders ease under Hannibal's touch as he takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. "What's the matter Will?"

As if awoken from a dream, Will is startled by the question, eyes resembling a lost and frightened child. "Nothing. I'm just... I'm just tired."

Having removed his hand Hannibal moves in front of Will, "We may leave if you wish." voice calm and eloquent.

William places his glasses back on and shakes his head; tatty mane following the movements. "No, no. Jack may still need me so..."

"Hello Mr. Graham, how are you?" Elizabeth greets in a soft but cheery tone. Hannibal turns at her voice to be met with her smile, returning one of his own in reaction.

"I'm fine thank you, yourself?" Will doesn't attempt to hide his displeasure of her arrival as he refuses to look her in the eye and turns slightly to shoulder her from view. All very rude and inexcusable to Hannibal.

However, Elizabeth does not seem roiled by this and continues in her pleasantries "I am very well, thank you."

However, before she may utter anything else William turns to her very quickly and states "Good, excuse me, I'm going to help Jack." before walking away to find Crawford.

Hannibal and Elizabeth watch as Will sulks back to agent Crawford. "I am sorry about that Miss Locksley," Hannibal apologises as he turns to her, "William has been keeping irregular sleeping hours of late, so his manners are..."

"It's ok," she looks at him with a forgiving smile, "the poor thing is having a hard time of it, I can imagine that." She looks back at Will and sighs, "and he is feeling obsolete because of me, I am sure he was the same when you first entered the picture." She shrugs, "God knows I'd feel just the same as him if it were me."

"I have a hard time believing that Elizabeth." She turns her head to him and smiles at his words, before moving to face the bodies once more."

"no, honestly I would," she chuckles, "You see, he has 100% empathy, and it takes a huge toll on him to do what he does, and then to not come out a killer himself takes immense control on his part. All of which must be exhausting." Looking at Him, Hannibal can see her concern for this, to her, unexceptionally rude stranger. A kind, sweet woman; she thinks of Will positively, even after his graceless behaviour. A flower in their wasteland world.

She continues, "He's made to look at horrors, get in the mind of a criminal and track down said criminal, of which chipping away at his sanity and self-control every time. Just to be, in his head certainly, discarded when there is an "upgrade". I'd be just as discourteous as him."

"You appear to have the same empathy yourself miss Locksley" Hannibal steps forward, looking her in the eye as he speaks, "reading Will in such a way, and the "art" of these crime scenes the way you do, you have empathy."

"Yes," she says softly, "I suppose I do." and she lets out a small, dear laugh. The angelic sound hits Hannibal unexpectedly; skipping a beat of his heart and forcing him to take a steadying sigh. Developing feelings has never been easy for Hannibal, but he finds himself enjoying the company of this pure woman.

"But, the difference with me is," Her stark tone brings him back to his senses, and usual composure, "I don't fight with my darknesses, so I am not as tortured as dear Mr Graham."

"Darknesses? I believe you to be void of such things Elizabeth." He comments through a wry smile.

"Aww, well aren't you a sweetie, thank you Hannibal." At this moment she faces him and, without a second warning, places her hand on his cheek; stroking it with her thumb as she looks at him with smiling eyes. "But everybody has darknesses Hannibal, some more and worse than others, but everybody does. I even bet you do."

You have no Idea.

Then she adds, "But I find a little darkness helps us to appreciate the light."

He looks at her once more, entertained and enchanted by her statement, "A writer, psychologist and philosopher. My miss Locksley, you do have many talents." Hannibal says, openly amused. She laughs , a little louder than necessary and the room looks at her. He can't help but smile as he watches her cover her mouth in embarrassment and utter the word "sorry" to numerous people around the room.

"I think I'm going to take a stroll outside now after that" Elizabeth says to him with a chuckle, "would you like to join me? Or stay here for Mr Graham?"

Hannibal looks around to find Mr Graham, and sees him talking to Katz, Crawford and the various other good-hearted drones under Crawfords' supervision, "I think Will can stand a few moments without me."and he extends his arm to her to accompany her outside.

As she takes it and they walk to the door she apologises, "I'm sorry by the way, I didn't mean to laugh that loudly."

"No apology needed, it is nice to hear joy in such sad and black times." He stops just before the door and releases her arm, "It is quite bitter out there miss Locksley, maybe you should button your coat and put on your gloves."

Again, she smiles at his words and obliges "Thank you Dr Lecter for your concern for my welfare, how very kind of you."

"You are most welcome Dr. Locksley." He smiles courteously, opening the door for her as she leads the way outside.

As they step outside the brisk air hits them like a glass of water. Miss Locksley raises her arms in the air, inviting in the cool wind; her long hair caught in its breeze, and flowing elegantly.

Hannibal steps forward and offers his arm once more, do you care to take a walk with me Elizabeth?" He gestures to the small gardens surrounding the building.

She takes his arm, hugging him towards her, "Yes, that would be lovely, thank you." And they make their way down the stairs and round the back of Old City Hall.

They begin in silence; both comfortable with each others company, and taking in the surrounding area. After a few minutes, Hannibal decides to break the silence. "Do you have any plans after this Elizabeth?"

"Nothing really," she offers honestly, looking at the frosted grass as it cracks under her shoes, "I suppose I shall go home, write some more of my book unless Crawford would like me to do otherwise. She looks at him, "What about you? what are your plans?"

"I'm going to visit Abigail Hobbs in hospital before my next appointment at 3:45" Hannibal stops, looking at the large cherry tree before him, blossoms falling like rain. "I was wondering if you would like to come with me?" He looks at her, "It may do her good to meet someone who doesn't have an attachment to her fathers case."

"Yes of course, poor thing," she looks away and up at the cherry tree, "losing both her parents, finding out her Father is the Minnesota Shrike, her father cutting and almost killing her, all in one day. Poor thing she is."

Hearing her genuine concern is heartwarming to him, especially when considering his own paternal feelings towards the young girl. "Yes, I think it will do her good to know she has friends."

"Yes," She nods at him sternly in agreement, "I would like to visit her, just to talk to her. Poor little thing she is." With that Elizabeth let's go of his arm and begins to walk on her own to the Cherry Tree. " I love Cherry Trees, so elegant."

He watches as tree circles the tree; er finger tracing the bark as she moves, her lightly treading over the fallen flowers, falling petals mixing in with her hair as wind blows. Beauty in the company of evil.

Overcome by the display he steps forward, "you have a kind heart Miss Locksley," she turns from the blossoms to look at him, leaning gently against the tree, "your concern for others, and constant willingness to help and to cure, shows that you are very pure of heart."

"Thank you Hannibal, coming from such a well-respected and gracious man, I feel honoured that you think that of me." Her smile returns, and he can't help but reach out and pluck one of the fallen flowers from her hair, "God," she exclaims as she brushes her hair with her hands, "Am I covered in them?"

"Afraid so, yes." He chortles to himself as she tries to free her hair from the pink garden it now resides"

"Oh Christ, I look like a pagan priestess or something now," interesting thought, though not one completely unwarranted in his mind, "Oh well, nothing can be done right now, eh?" She laughs in acceptance.

But before he has time to respond, their names could be heard, "Dr Lecter, Dr Locksley, Jack word like a word please." Agent Katz is shouting from the other side of the gardens.

"I guess that's our cue to go back." Elizabeth leaves the tree and look at Hannibal.

"Indeed, it is." And with that they both return to the crime scene to talk to Jack. As Hannibal talks to Dr Locksley, he notices how comfortable he is with her presence; how calm he feels, and how he simply enjoys her, without needing anything from her. When they get back inside the hall, Jack briefs them both on the findings thus far and that they will be taking the bodies down or closer examination, so they are not needed at the moment and shall be contacted when they are. Both William and Hannibal head to his car as Elizabeth heads to hers.

As Hannibal opens the drivers side door to get in Elizabeth calls to him, "Oh Hannibal?" He turns to find her walking back over to him, phone in hand. "As I am quite new here, I am not very good at finding places just yet, so may I have your number please, so I may have the address for Abigails' hospital?"

"Yes, certainly." and he pulls his phone out of his pocket, just to be stopped by William's voice.

"Abigails' Hospital? Why do you want to know where Abigail is?"

As Will stares daggers into Elizabeth, Hannibal feels the need to interject and shield her kindness from fault. "I invited Dr Locksley to come see Abigail with us." Disgraced by William's unacceptable behaviour to Dr Locksley, Hannibal offers no explanations, and stares, challenging William to respond. Fortunately though William huffs and gives Elizabeth one last look of disgust before settling back into the car.

Hannibal turns to Elizabeth and squeezes her shoulder, "I am sorry about that. He is ever so protective of Abigail, he wishes to keep her from harm as much as I..."

Elizabeth strokes his face again in reassurance, "It's ok Hannibal, I know he only wants to protect her, and he doesn't like or trust me very much, so I understand." He can feel her thumb as it caresses his cheek; her warmth transpires through the leather glove, and a welcome contrast to the brisk wind.

He smiles at her, nodding in appreciation as he takes her phone from her and enters his number. "If you text me, I will be more than happy to send you the address, and directions if you so need them." AS he hands it back, she takes the phone with one hand while enfolding both his and hers with the other. He looks to her smiling eyes once more and mimics her smile as she says "Thank you." and walks back to her car.

"Your rudeness was unforgivable William." Hannibal scolds as they set off for the hospital. William is silent, staring out of the window, body temperature elevated due to his anger and annoyance.

William shifts in his chair; elbow still on the car door as he rests his head, but now able to look at Hannibal directly. "Yes I know, but I don't trust her, and you want to introduce the woman to Abigail."

"Elizabeth, call her by her name" Hannibal says calmly, no trace of his disappointment of his friend. "And yes, I wish to introduce her to Abigail, I believe it will do Abigail good to get acquainted with another woman, non threatening and without agenda."

"Alana has no gender, and is a woman who she already knows, and we both trust." William argues poignantly, fully turned to Hannibal.

"Yes, she is." Hannibal says, agreeing with Wills' argument, "you are of course correct Will, but Alana was here for he debacle of finding Hobbs, his death and who he was. Dr Locksley is not. Elizabeth knows nothing of what happened, except was she has heard on the news." Hannibal explains to Will, despite Wills' scoffing at the mere mention of miss Locksleys' name. Which, strangely, is starting to offend Hannibal himself. "Miss Locksley will be approaching as a stranger, someone with no stake in her well-fare, or questions about Abigail's involvement or mental state. She shall be offering a clean slate for her Just a friendly face to talk to."

Hannibal looks over at his friend, waiting for a response, which came in the form of a defeated sigh. "Fine, but she still is a stranger, one we've barely met Hannibal. I thought you were more level headed than that."

"I am being level-headed." Hannibal pulls up to a space in the Hospital car park, turns off the gas and looks at his friend, "I feel just as responsible for Abigail as you do, I have the same paternal instincts as you do. And, even though your worries about Miss Locksley are due to your not spending time with her, I have, and I believe Elizabeth will offer un-bias friendship Abigail, something she will need in the months to come."

William looks at him; defiance in his face, but his need to protect Abigail is pure, something Hannibal shares with him. William looks out of the windscreen and takes a steadying sigh, his tatty main shaking as he does so. "Ok," Will nods at Hannibal "Ok, but I don't want her to hurt Abigail."

Will and Hannibal get out of the car and head in the hospital and up to Abigail's room. And, as the are walking up the stairs to her ward they can hear screaming coming from her corridor. "Abigail!" William exclaims as they both towards her door and William knocks it down, gun in hand.

Seeing Abigail in fits of laughter with another woman by her bedside.

"Elizabeth?!" Hannibal questions, shocked and breathless.

Hearing her name, Elizabeth looks at them and stands from her chair. "Oh, Hannibal, Mr Graham, sorry..." she says, wiping laughter tears from her eyes, "I got here a little while ago and waited, but I thought I'd come say hello to Abigail." Dr Locksley looks at a happy Abigail on the bed then back at the two gentlemen.

"We heard screaming." Says William as he puts his gun back in its holder, then sitting down on the sofa at the end of the room.

"Sorry," says Abigail, looking apologetically at the two men, "that was me. Lizzy was telling some of the stories about her brother and I literally screamed with laughter." Abigail tries to stifle her laughter as she explains to Hannibal and William.

"In all honesty gentlemen, it was my fault." Elizabeth stands by Abigail's head and gives her a wink, "I know I shouldn't be exerting her so, but laughter is a great medicine."

William snorts at this disapprovingly. "I take it you don't agree with that hypothesis Mr Graham." Elizabeth Walks over to her bag by the window, looking at William.

"No I don't, that sort of hippy thinking doesn't get people better, it gives them hope before they die. That is it." He gets up from the sofa and goes to the chair by Abigail.

Hannibal takes off his coat and folds it on his lap as he sits himself into the other chair beside Abigail, taking her hand in his and asking how she is. All the while listening to the fray, eager to hear Elizabeth's counter attack.

Seating herself on the sofa, Elizabeth crosses her legs and addresses William, "Actually Mr Graham, laughter has many positive effects on the human body. A good, hearty laugh relieves physical tension and stress, leaving your muscles relaxed for up to 45 minutes after. it also boosts the immune system, decreases stress hormones, increases immune cells and infection-fighting antibodies, thus improving your resistance to disease." Both Hannibal and Abigail look at Elizabeth, revelling in her serious tone and impressive knowledge.

"Laughter also riggers the release of endorphins, the body's natural feel-good chemicals that promote an overall sense of well-being and can even temporarily relieve pain. Overall Laughter has such benefits as; protecting the heart. increasing blood flow and improves the functioning of blood vessels. Boosts immunity. Lowers stress Hormones. Decreases pain. Relaxes your muscles. Prevents heart disease. Eases anxiety and fear. Relieves stress. Improves mood. Enhances resilience and, most importantly Mr Graham..." Her tone is low and inviting. Will turn to look at her after her pause, "It makes you happy."

Her intelligence and power pierces the room with every word uttered. But its her eyes that Hannibal really notices. The prowess within them, knowing that she, although subtly, has captured her prey. How exciting.