Chapter 4— Obsession

"Wait, Hector...Do not you care about your relationship with Guillam anymore?" Fabian asked confusedly and giggling uneasily after Dixon referred to Peter Guillam in that contemptuous way. Fabian knew Dixon too well and knew that he was one of the hardest and coldest men he could ever meet, and that to express himself in any way was not unusual, but he was also aware that his boss was human and he himself had witnessed the feelings and the great passion that Peter Guillam had awakened in him since the beginning of their relationship. Since the beginning of their relationship as lovers, Fabian had been convinced that Dixon really had very strong feelings for Guillam because even only for him he had been faithful for some time and knew that although they often argued they always returned to be together. But this time, from the way Dixon was referring to Guillam Fabian could sense that he was being serious. Maybe Guillam was no longer the main object of Hector's whim. Maybe he was really getting too fond of the mysterious man he'd had sex with in Boston.

"Did not you hear what I said? For me, that bastard can go to hell!" Dixon reiterated, turning to see Fabian with a fixed and piercing stare and a broad smile that showed his perfect teeth.

"I thought there had been reconciliation, that is, this morning when I called you, I was able to listen to Guillam's voice in the background and..." said Fabian.

"Oh yeah, we spent the night together, we had hard sex because I called him just for that. Yesterday I was too sexually thirsty and had no intention of hiring a man. So the imbecile Guillam had been stalking me for days, leaving messages in my phone mailbox until I was tired of hear and also in the end I was tired of self-pleasing me. I needed to feel a real man cock, hot and throbbing inside me and I called him. I called him to use him for that, to lower my fever a little, I've been too hot since I was with that macho in Boston Haha and I also called Guillam to save me money, you know Guillam is too cheap, you know... But there was no reconciliation between the bastard Guillam and me...we do not clarify anything about the stupid arguments that led us to separate all these weeks," Dixon said with determination and satire.

"That means it was just casual sex...Guillam did not insist on reconciliation, or did you want to break everything with him?" inquired Fabian.

"Yes, it was casual sex, like I said I just called him for that, to have sex. In the morning the damn idiot fucked me again, but this time I did not ask for it. I got it almost by force under the shower. I was even angry with him. He always gets irritated me, but I do not deny that I enjoy that domination. But…I still get mad at him. When you called me I was running him from my house," Dixon explained.

"Oh, so I'm sorry for the interruption," Fabian said, a little self-conscious but laughable. Dixon smiled briefly.

"Ah, do not worry. As I answered the phone, I aimed a pistol at him and he finally left."

"And... about the man you met in Boston... do you have any more information? I do not think you did not even ask his name," said Fabian smiling with mischief. He was being ironic, he knew perfectly well that his boss could never miss something as important as that.

Dixon smiled at him with his wide white smile.

"His name is John Bateman, and... I must say that this morning while Guillam was fucking me, I imagined it was the dark-haired Adonis who did it," Dixon said, licking his lips. He felt some heat begin to take hold of his crotch. Fabian smirked. He always loved to hear his boss talking indiscreetly about the things he always enjoyed.

"Oh, without doubt the Bostonian of US has become your new whim," Fabian said in a tone of complicity.

"Haha, he will be my new toy, I swear, Fabian. It was so easy to provoke him and get what I wanted from him, and I'm pretty sure he enjoyed it as much as I did. It was the best sex I've ever had in my life" Dixon said, licking his lips as he remembered how Dolarhyde had been taking him with savagery that night of sex.

"But... then why did he run away without telling you anything, without waiting for you to wake up and not get paid?" Fabian asked, he really could not understand.

"That's the strangest thing, but it does not matter. I'll find him, and he will be mine again," Dixon said decisively and with a malicious look, he was totally prepared for it.

"It will be interesting to see how my great boss Hector Dixon gets back that American man," Fabian added exclaiming.

"Also, I'll bring him to London to live with me," said Dixon, smiling.

"Oh, really? That would be really exciting!" Fabian said in amazement.

"Yes, moreover... I must say that his sexy manly voice had a kind of Irish accent, I would have liked to know more about him... to know his age, his interests, his occupation. It is a little frustrating to know that we could only meet in bed."

"You'll get the chance, Hector. You always get what you want," Fabian said, smiling at his boss. It was not just a compliment, Fabian was really quite sure of it.

….

Early in the morning, Francis Dolarhyde began to get ready to leave. Although it had not been a good night for him, he had suffered unexpected insomnia because of his great anxiety, he did not want to delay his purpose any longer. He had set out to leave for Boston at dawn, driving the new pickup he had bought in exchange for selling the old one.

As he drove down the road, he could not stop his eagerness to come and meet again with the blond Hector Dixon that gradually increased with the passing of the minutes. He had prepared everything he needed to spend in Boston enough time to find him, though he felt fairly certain it would not take him too long to do so. Something told him in his subconscious that being the great Red Dragon something like meeting the blond again seemed to be ridiculously easy.

Dolarhyde drove down the road for three hours until he had to stop the van at a gas station to load the fuel. Fortunately since he had woken up that morning, the voices in his head had not appeared again to disturb him. This was one of those lucid days when he could concentrate better, even though the madness in his mind remained constant because it had gradually deteriorated his reasoning and sometimes failed to understand and differentiate what was right and what was evil within a society with well-established political, ethical and moral laws.

But this morning he was strangely much more aware than usual that he must be much more cautious about being seen too much because the spoken portrait with his supposed face continued to circulate in all the country's headquarters and newspapers, and anyone could recognize him. Although this portrait was not faithful, it was clear of his scar on the upper lip, as well as other characteristic features, so now almost all the time he wore dark glasses, and even tried to articulate the words in his voice so that he could conceal his accustomed hiss and slightly Irish accent, because of the family where he had been born.

With each passing minute, Dolarhyde felt that his exasperation was becoming unbearable. But there were still more than 100 miles to Boston and a little more to get specifically to that luxurious hotel where the blond had taken him to his suite. As he loaded gasoline into his vehicle, in his mind passed a sea of ideas, images and retrospective concepts in which he not only thought about the blond Dixon but also imagined the idea of being with him again in careless debauchery while the images of his old projector were played on the wall. He had brought the movie projector with him, it was well stored in a metal box he had placed in one of the rear seats. He was anxious to use it and carry out his task, and of course he was anxious because some of those projected images were the iconographies of Blake's works he had just discovered.

Finally he finished filling the fuel tank of his van but before leaving the place and continue his way, he decided to buy some things in the store that was established next to. He had to get into the bathroom, he had to masturbate and calm down a little the heat that had awakened in his crotch because of the sea of lustful delusions that had machined in his mind as he remembered the blond Dixon as had been filling the gas tank.

As soon as he was able to free himself a little of his erection in the bathroom, he went back to the establishment and thought it might be a good idea to buy some things for the trip. He took some snacks and non-intoxicating drinks and then headed for the magazines and newspapers. He thought that being Tuesday they should have the famous magazine The Tattler, his favorite, and should already be on the shelf, despite the possibilities were reduced because the site looked quite desolate and no county or houses were visible in the surroundings.

Luck seemed to be on his side because despite the possibility that they did not sell the new The Tattler number in that place, as soon as he approached to review the magazines he realized that indeed the new number of the week was there. Because of the conditions and the smell of new ink, he could immediately realize that it was the number that had come out a few hours ago, even before reading the date of publication. Dolarhyde took the magazine in his hands, anxiously gazing at the cover for a moment, as the scent of the new magazine rose to his face. He took a quick glance at the date of the publication, the same date of that day, and immediately began to leaf through it, for from just seeing his cover he had begun to feel excited again to himself.

He noticed that several of the publications of that day were extremely interesting and more than that, appealing, since new notes had been written about crimes, some of them frightening and other sections where people were talking about missing persons. Thinking that such lost people might now be dead made him feel even more frenetic, his schizophrenic mind instantly engineered a thousand ways in which each of them could have been massacred. He licked his lips a little to imagine that he might even have been the perpetrator himself, and even at a moment he tried to remember if for some reason he had forgotten that in fact he had indeed been. He thought that perhaps this excitement had made him forget his latest victims, so for a brief span of minutes he looked closely at the photographs of the missing persons. Until one of the shopkeepers spoke to him, making him out of his reverie.

"Sir, may I help you? Is something wrong?" asked the attendant to Dolarhyde, had been a little worried because Dolarhyde seemed disturbed to read the notes of that publication. The reality was far from it, Dolarhyde was not disturbed, instead he was immersed in his own inner ecstasy and could almost feel oppression again in his zipper.

But in spite of his great fantasy, Dolarhyde was not irritated by his interruption, and on the contrary he responded with kindness, though with a little expression.

"No, I was just reading the headlines of this magazine. I think I'll take it," he said succinctly and headed for the box with everything and the magazine in hand and the other products he wanted to buy. Dolarhyde made the corresponding payment and withdrew from the place. As he had wished, he had not raised suspicions in any of the few employees of the place. None of them had imagined that he actually was a dangerous serial killer that the police had been searching fervently for weeks, and without trouble, being out, Dolarhyde boarded his van again and continued driving for a few more miles until near to some County had decided to stop for a moment. He was not tired of driving but he felt a great need to read the new The Tattler number he had bought a few minutes ago.

At the side of the road, having parked the vehicle, and after taking a bit of a revitalizing drink, began to read The Tattler carefully. He had to keep checking the content that had been published in the magazine that morning and it was then that in one of the publications he saw an incident that had aroused his interest more than usual a few days ago, much more than notes like that commonly did. In the publication they had written the news about the cold-blooded murder of the British politician who had been killed by some lone murderer inside the luxurious hotel where he was staying.

He remembered that the blond man he had met had been reading with interest the newspaper that announced the news that time in the Boston Herald. He had to head back there, maybe there the blond man he had possessed could come back at any moment.

Dolarhyde set off again. Ever since he had started the engine of his van, his mind had filled with memories of that night full of sex with Hector Dixon. He remembered his voice, sweet and also provocative, and remembered his words where he'd told him his purpose of having taken him to his suite that night to have sex together and that he was willing to pay a large sum of money in exchange for it.

"I'll make you a good pay"

Dolarhyde kept his eyes in front of the wheel and in front of his way, but those words were something that resonated in his thoughts recurrently. And in the end he had not received that pay, in the end he had decided to flee the luxurious room without saying a word and the reason was that at that moment he had felt afraid, afraid of himself.

Now he was extremely repentant of it, he did not even want to admit it altogether because he hated to feel frustrated but the truth was that that morning after waking up in the great bed of the suite next to Hector Dixon that still slept naked next to him, had remembered that one of the things of Dixon that had captivated him almost immediately had been his perfect smile, and from that moment Dolarhyde had imagined that after assassinating him, as he had originally considered, he would have to tear him off his teeth to then after keep his macabre prize in a small wooden box, as part of his strange collection.

But then he'd really enjoyed that delicious and unexpected dose of sex with him, something he'd never imagined experimenting with any man and he could not repent because it had been really wonderful. He had had sex with a living being, had experienced the warmth of his body imprisoning his and had made him scream with pleasure. Hector Dixon was alive and his skin burned with ecstasy under his manly hands that had explored with obscene caresses. Dolarhyde had struck him with all the power conferred by the great Red Dragon, they had been one even if their bodies were biologically and sexually equal.

But not even all those pleasurable sensations could have been able to stop him, at that moment Dolarhyde had really had a terrible fear of thinking that the fury of the great Red Dragon that was inside his stomach could make him kill Dixon right there on the bed. And yet in the twisted schizophrenic mind of Dolarhyde there was still some sanity that made him realize the boundaries between what was right and what could be fatal. Strangely something in his mind told him that if he killed the sexy blond stranger who was sleeping naked next to him, later he could repent.

But his instincts might betray him at any moment, and that had been why, that morning, Dolarhyde barely took his clothes and dressed himself quickly when outside the sun was not even out yet, and as soon as he was dressed he fled from that place, without stopping to look again behind. At no point was he interested in the money that Dixon had offered him, or any of the valuable items he could bring with him in that luxurious suite. Dolarhyde simply left the building and took a taxi to the apartment he had been renting in Boston that day.

But since that incident, several days had passed and now Dolarhyde was driving on the road in order to meet Hector Dixon again.

Dolarhyde drove for another hour until finally arrived in Boston. He was exhausted and more exasperated, he regretted that he had decided to move abruptly to New Jersey, but he had to do so because his neighbors in Boston had begun to suspect that he was in fact a dangerous man. Although the police did not have a real photograph of him and although the spoken portrait they had made was not too similar to him, it had been well described that one of the physical characteristics of the murderer was the singular scar on his upper lip, a vestige that he had been born with a cleft lip.

As soon as Dolarhyde arrived in Boston, he immediately went to the luxurious hotel where Dixon had stayed. He inquired for him again, but just as on that occasion the staff and the manager told him that no one by that name had stayed that time.

"You have to show me your fucking security cameras!" said Dolarhyde a little insistently, his gaze was extremely intimidating and his frown began to disturb the managers.

"No sir, we are not allowed to do that. We ask you to please do not keep insisting and leave now" said the attendant in a serious but nervous voice, Dolarhyde managed to impose great fear and therefore the manager was ready to act immediately the alarm for the security guards to attack him if necessary. For his part, Dolarhyde felt such exasperation that he was short of his control, but in the end he resisted and managed to accept, as a normal person, that he would not receive such information from the hotel.

Without saying more, but even looking at him austerely, Dolarhyde turned and left the place. He was very annoyed, and too anxious not to achieve his goal yet. He wondered if it might be possible to find the blond named Hector Dixon in that immense city, made him even more uneasy about how difficult it would be to do so when the streets at that hour were so crowded.

"He lied to me about his name... his name is not Hector..." Dolarhyde muttered over and over again to himself. He felt a bit betrayed, mocked. At times he considered that perhaps all this foolish pursuit might be useless, but soon the dark and twisted side of his scene reminded him that the ideology revealed by the great scriptures of his old bible could not be wrong, nor could those wonderful sensations be wrong which the blond man clothing with the sun had made him experience that night.

Hector, or whatever he was called, had to be his at any cost.

Dolarhyde picked up his van again, and this time he headed for the Boston Herald building, the place where they had first met fate for the first time. Maybe there he could find much better information. He thought that if fate and the revelations of the apocalypse had made them inevitably drawn in that place, it must be a kind of sacred ground. Going to the Boston Herald could not fail.

He drove for a few minutes, was surprised to find the road quickly and quickly to the building that served as a collection of important newspapers, and as soon as he was inside he went to one of the managers to ask for the blond man named Hector Dixon.

"He is blond, thin, short, about 40 years old like me. He was here reading a newspaper like this a few days ago," Dolarhyde explained to the manager while was showing him the cut of the front page showing the crime that Dixon had perpetrated.

The manager was confused, he did not know how to answer his questions, and certainly the presence of Dolarhyde made him very uneasy, because he could scarcely conceal that he was desperate to know the whereabouts of the aforementioned middle-aged blond man.

"Sir, to this place come many blond men of middle age, of short stature and who read our diaries of the day, that we always have of sample in the desks... besides to say truth we do not pay much attention in the physical appearance of the people" The manager began to say calmly. But Dolarhyde was not as calm as he was, and he frowned a little more.

"Please, remember!" asked Dolarhyde insistent and energetic. The man adjusted his spectacles a little and looked up again at Dolarhyde.

"Mmmh... could you give me more specific details..." the man asked.

"Is a blond man, bushy eyebrows but just as blond, delicate body and nice face, gentle and formal... and he is British" said Dolarhyde. The manager giggled nervously, as the way Dolarhyde described the man he was looking for sounded like a strange admiration for him, it was as if Dolarhyde could not help but describe him as an ideal.

"Sir, I mean rather his name," the manager added, waiting for Dolarhyde to provide him with the data so he could look for it on the computer.

"Hector Dixon, he was here last Friday night, shortly before the newspaper library closed," Dolarhyde explained, doing his usual hiss as he spoke.

The man typed the name of Hector Dixon in the computer, but the system did not yield results of that day. Nevertheless it yielded results of several homonyms that also were registered like Hector Dixon, but none corresponded to the blond British of middle age that Dolarhyde looked for.

"None of these men? Are you sure?" Inquired the manager as the computer screen continued to show the photograph of three men also called Hector Dixon. One of them looked too young, and he was red-haired, another was a rather old man with dark hair, probably dyed, and the third was a gray-haired old man who was quite old.

Dolarhyde shook his head and clenched his fist. He was disappointed. None of those called Hector Dixon was his.

"No, none of them is..." muttered Dolarhyde seriously.

"Sorry, that's all I can do for you. Maybe that man you're looking for is not registered here, especially if he's British as you mentioned" said the manager.

"In the damn security cameras! Surely I could see him there," exclaimed Dolarhyde.

"I'm sorry, sir, we're not allowed to show that to ordinary civilians. Only the police can have access in necessary cases," the man explained.

Dolarhyde frowned again.

"I beg you, please!" snapped Dolarhyde, in a more abrupt, grave and imposing voice. The man was frightened again, and just behind him appeared a guard and Dolarhyde knew that he must calm down a bit.

"It is not possible sir, and please be better off. We do not tolerate aggressive behavior in this place," said the manager.

Dolarhyde hesitated a little but did not insist again and without saying more left the place, with composure but much more annoying than he had been leaving the luxurious hotel.

Outside, he wondered again if he could find Dixon, his other half, in that big, busy city.

"Maybe he's already gone to England," he thought to himself in frustration.

….

It had been almost a week since Dolarhyde had returned to find Dixon in Boston. Dolarhyde still wanted to find Dixon, desperately wanted it, but now he could not stay in Boston too long. Every day he regretted having moved so far, but he did not mind driving his van every third day from New Jersey. Sometimes he had decided to spend some nights at some cheap hotel in the city. But he knew that he could not squander his money too much, because his savings would not last forever and he still could not get a job since he was a fugitive from the police.

So on more than one occasion he had even decided to spend the night asleep inside his van.

During the course of those days, Dolarhyde made an exhaustive search to find Dixon, but was still unsuccessful. He could not find a single clue. He also began to believe that perhaps it could be that even Dixon had just been a dream, one too wonderful. But remembering their bare skins united in intense sex could not have been just a dream.

In addition, he constantly dreamed about Dixon. Almost every night, from that time on, he dreamed that he would make him his own again or that he shared with him moments when he enjoyed doing some of his favorite activities, such as seeing those old home movies and worshiping his great bible, reading together The revelations, something he had never done before with anyone.

And while he was awake fantasizing, he also masturbated, thinking of Hector Dixon.

However, in these last days this search had taken away the time and dedication to carry out to him his accustomed rituals in front of the great bible, that demanded to him the malice of his deliriums. Dixon had him obsessed, hogging all his mental concentration. All this time he had not stopped to consider that the cursed Red Dragon sleeping inside his stomach had not bothered him, his mind was too busy finding the golden-haired man like the Sun.

That was why Dolarhyde did not give up, he could not do it. He would find Dixon anywhere and at all costs.

…..

At the Chesapeake hospital in Virginia, agent Will Graham was finally released after spending more than a couple of weeks in hospital recovering from his various injuries. He was still very sore and crippled, and he felt too weak to move on just too much, but at least he could be out of bed and go home to finish recovering there. His jaw still ached a little but he was able to talk, though not for too long.

The hospital had been extremely boring, despite the fact that most of the time he had been asleep because of medicines. He was very excited to be able to return to his house, but above all to see his beloved dogs again. But he also had a great fear that Dolarhyde might stalk him to finish the purpose he had not been able to conclude on that occasion. Graham feared that Dolarhyde could find him at any moment and murder him.

That morning, Crawford made the last visit to Will's room, to assist him a bit and help him out of the hospital. Crawford never mentioned to Will anything about the note that Hannibal had dared to send him among the flowers days ago. And Hannibal had not sent anything back to Will, he was too sneaky to let Crawford and his agents track him, the letter had been just a wink on his part to let them know he was better than the whole FBI together. Hannibal was not stupid to believe that Will had received his letter, he knew that Crawford would see to it that he never received it and that Crawford would wait for him to send a second to use it as hook. That was why Hannibal did not do it again.

"Thank you so much for your help, Jack," Will said to his superior as Crawford reached for crutches and the nurse finished helping him put on a coat. It was cold outside, it was fall.

"It's the least I can do, Will," Crawford said, smiling briefly.

"I'll walk you home, do not worry, we put some alarms in there that will automatically trigger any strange movement, but I still think it would be best if you moved out," Crawford explained, "anyway, if Dolarhyde comes back to your home, I do not think he's so stupid to not know that the FBI is taking care of you," he added as he walked next to Will who was doing it with clumsy step because of the crutches.

Will had no serious injuries that would prevent him from walking, but the bruise on his side hurt a great deal if he did not lean on something strong as he walked.

"Jack, you know I can't move so immediately, I need to find a good place where they will accept me and my dogs first," Will said, and smiled a little, but soberly. Crawford noticed that it was the first time Graham had smiled for many days. Crawford also smiled succinctly.

"About that, I have some suggestions for you. I knew that was the reason you would say, because those dogs are your priority, that's why I went to the task of finding several places for you. But it would be nice if you see them personally. I can accompany you from tomorrow if you wish. Meantime today take your time to rest well at home and be with your dogs. Do not worry, we have been taking good care of them. Besides, your house has been well monitored by the police and it is okay," Crawford said.

"Haha, I suppose... because if there were news you would have told me or the news would have caught the note of the capture of that murderous bastard Red Dragon" Graham said a little laughable, but could not laugh too much, his side hurt like hell.

"That's true, we still have no clue of the damn bastard..." Crawford said seriously. The truth was he was frustrated at not being able to advance the investigation.

"What about DNA test results?" inquired Will. At that moment the elevator was reaching the first level, soon they would be outside the building and from there they would go to the parking lot.

Crawford paused before answering and his expression became even more serious.

"DNA tests, which were very scarce, do not serve us. The hairs have no root and indeed several belong to some of his victims. There are no traces of his semen anywhere, even though they all were raped post mortem. The bastard was probably clever enough to divert our attention and cheat us," Crawford said. Will also became more serious. The nurse helped him out of the building, and after saying goodbye to them, Crawford and Graham headed for the vehicle that would take them.

"And...are there clues to...?" began Will by inquiring, hesitantly and averting his gaze nervously.

"No, Hannibal has not given us a single clue to his location..." Crawford replied. They were already inside the vehicle. They went out onto the avenue, and for a long while there was no conversation between them.

….

Dixon continued to handle his own business affairs in London. Besides being a hitman he had several dirty businesses on the black market. Be in the mafia always demanded to be involved every time in darker matters. Something unavoidable, which made him amass his illicit fortune even more.

Throughout the United Kingdom a great scandal had taken place over the death of the official killed by Dixon. Police had suspicions of a mafia organized in the United States and involved with the deceased, and there was talk of looking for British suspects who could settle in the United States. For that reason Dixon still could not return to Boston.

But he was still eager to return to meet the Boston's dark-haired Adonis. The private detective, a fifty-year-old man with brown hair and green eyes named Milton Wells, whom Dixon had hired to locate Dolarhyde, had failed to provide him with a single clue to John Bateman's whereabouts. As in the case of Dolarhyde when asking the librarian, the private detective had located different homonyms called equal to John Bateman, but none corresponded to the physical characteristics that Dixon had given to him. Hector Dixon was getting more desperate. And he had no further information on him.

"He had an Irish accent, but I'm not sure if he was. I'm sure he is American, something tells me," Dixon told the private detective during a video call via the internet.

"Maybe he could be an immigrant," the detective suggested.

"He was a big man, his body was very athletic, maybe he could be at some sports center or some of the gyms, look for him in that kind of places too" Dixon suggested.

"In the Boston Herald newspaper library there are only three records with his name on the ballot paper as a general public, but he's not registered in the system. Seems that he usually orders journals and magazines for consultation only using his identification card and do not have home loan, so that there is no record of his address."

"Wait... I think it would be best to wait for him there. If he's a regular user he'll be back there soon anytime," Dixon said. He felt greatly hopeful.

"That's what I've been doing. I asked a librarian to let me know if that man John Bateman comes in. I offered him a large sum of money, but so far he does not seem to have asked for more magazines or newspapers."

"Intensify the search, Wells, please. I'll pay you more, double if you can find him the moment he comes back."

….

As soon as Will Graham was at home and having happily attended to his beloved dogs whom he had not seen in those days, he paused for a moment to rest on a comfortable couch to watch television.

He was still overwhelmed because he still had not overcome his fear of the escape situation that the violent confrontation with the Red Dragon had caused him. He felt very paranoid to think that Dolarhyde could enter his house and surprise him at any moment, especially since the damned was still free in the streets and the police had not a single clue. He felt too insecure in his own house, which on the contrary was supposed should give him comfort. He felt insecure even if surveillance cameras had been set up that the FBI was monitoring 24 hours a day. But that also worried him too much, because he felt like an animal in captivity, or a rat in a laboratory, because now he could not have privacy, the FBI had become much more stalker than Dolarhyde himself.

But he knew he had to bear it, but it was nothing compared to the anguish that had made him feel abandoned by Hannibal and not knowing anything about him because of course Crawford had not sent him the letter that Hannibal had sent him between the flowers and of course was that Will had not even realized.

He was really tired of the whole situation, he felt truly alone even though he had the presence of his canine friends at his side, although he had always preferred the company of his pets to human company. Perhaps it was simply that he could not get over the fact that his secret love affair with the murderous doctor had been frustrated and that he now had to be in the company of Dr. Bedelia, whom he had chosen over him.

The time passed, the afternoon culminated and outside it was almost dark. While Will continued to watch the television, and while he changed some channels with the remote control, he began to think and remember where the blind spots of the surveillance cameras were. His mind could not help brooding the idea that if Hannibal for some reason visited his house, he would have to do so by trying to go through those blind spots not to be seen. But he knew that was just an absurd fantasy and none of that would happen. They were things that would only happen in movies or in a novel. It was not as if Hannibal would suddenly appear sitting in some corner of his house, having entered unannounced and surely forcing the lock, and salute him without the police knowing.

But even though it was a fantasy, Will really wanted it to be.

Hannibal did not appear that way inside his house, but as if Graham had predicted it in a moment of the night, a note arrived under his door after a pair of knocks on the same one.

Will had a strange hunch. The knocks on the door were not heard again, only the wind that outside moved the leaves of the trees and the barking of the dogs after seeing the stranger, but surely should not be too unknown because the dogs did not bark more insistently or aggressiveness. Graham saw the note under his door, and hurried as hard as he could to open it, but when he did, he could not find anyone nearby. He had delayed opening the door more than a normal person would have done, for he was still wounded, and that would hinder his movements. After not seeing anyone outside he hurried to read the note. Before reading, something told him to do it in one of the blind spots of the house. He headed for a corner of the living room, under the stairs, and there began to read the note. He recognized the excellent calligraphy immediately and before reading the main content his eyes could not help but notice with emotion the signature that was unavoidable to recognize: Hannibal

His eyes lit up with internal enthusiasm and he read quickly.

My very dear Will, I am very glad that you have been discharged at last. You do not know how I've been longing for the moment when we can finally meet again. I'll wait for you outside the cafe 'Cafe Paraíso', just behind the mall.

You can recognize me because I have a carnation in the pocket of my shirt, which is light green.

-Hannibal-

Doubtless, Will Graham subtly kissed the note and put it in his pocket. He was too excited. That note belonged to him, to Doctor Lecter, and there was no doubt that he had given it to him under the door. He knew that Hannibal was clever enough to go unnoticed by anyone, because he had always mocked the FBI even in front of them. Graham was not afraid of anything; he could rely entirely on Hannibal. Anyway nothing else mattered to him at that moment than to be with him, so he immediately hurried out. He took a jacket and left the house. He asked for a taxi in the avenue and in just a few minutes he was arriving at the place mentioned.

Graham paid the taxi driver for the ride and hurried down as much as he could, even though he had to lean on his crutches because of his bruised wounds in his torso. As he stood on the sidewalk, he looked impatiently for Hannibal's presence. He knew that he would not show his face so easily, being currently one of the most wanted serial killers in the country. But he knew he would recognize him immediately.

And as Will continued to look around, Hannibal suddenly appeared behind him and spoke to him closely.

"Will..." Dr. Lecter greeted softly, touching the shoulder of the agent who seemed intentional as a caress.

Graham immediately turned, finally was enjoying his presence one more time. Hannibal was in front of him again, a beard-framed smile, unusual in him, and he noticed that indeed Hannibal wore a green, casual shirt and a carnation in his pocket. He was also wearing jeans, Graham did not remember seeing him before wearing jeans, but they really made him look great. Also Hannibal wore dark glasses and the hairstyle in his hair was quite different.

"Hannibal..." Will said quietly and very softly, almost inaudibly; never ceasing to look up at him. He really wanted to be much more effusive with him, he really wanted to pounce on him and kiss him but he knew perfectly well that he could not do it, not then; he knew he had to resist it until they found an intimate and suitable place.

"Come on, Will... come on up," Hannibal said in a calm, elegant voice, gently touching his shoulder, inviting him into the black vehicle behind him on the curb.

Will was even more excited to have that physical touch on his part, that touch on his shoulder had been a fine caress, had been able to feel Hannibal's intention, Will knew his body language well. Will nodded and obeyed his request. He got into the car, with a little difficulty because of his injuries, but that did not detract from his happiness at any time.

Will slid to the seat across the window to allow Hannibal to sit beside him as he got into the car. Both inside, Hannibal closed the car door and signaled the driver to take them to a certain spot. Will Graham felt quite anxious. And suddenly Hannibal took his face in his hands gently and began to kiss him.

Will agreed and let himself be kissed by the doctor. The kiss was soft and not too long, even though they had longed for it for so long, but the moment demanded caution added to the fact that they could not avoid the tension that had caused them to part. Yet neither could deny that they were both happy.

"Where are we going, Hannibal?" Will asked after that kiss.

"You'll see..." Hannibal mumbled elegantly. For Will it was a little laughable to realize that Hannibal could never lose his refined behavior despite being dressed in too casual clothes.

They did not talk too much in the car, they also arrived very soon to the place indicated by Hannibal and that way they went up to a terrace where they perfectly appreciated an excellent panoramic view of the city.

And as they sat on a bench on the terrace, Hannibal and Will began to tell a little about what had happened in the later days when Hannibal had fled with Bedelia, but Will had no intention of claiming anything in no time, that night just wanted to feel happy at his side. They also talked briefly about what had happened to Dolarhyde that night. But the conservation was not prolonged too much because Hannibal was impatient to make a proposal, which above all could not postpone.

"Will, you know that I cannot stay here for too long. Come and live with me...in Florence. We will take this morning the private jet that will take us there. You can bring everything you need, including your pets, of course. Please say yes now, we cannot wait any longer," said the doctor at last.

Graham was momentarily astonished to hear him say such a request, but he did not take too long to accept his proposition. With Hannibal he was never afraid of anything, Hannibal always gave back all the confidence and for him it could go until the end of the world. It did not matter to leave everything behind.

"Okay..." Will replied, succinctly but enthusiastically, Hannibal was able to fully realize it and kissed him again.

"We will begin a new wonderful life together, Will." Hannibal spoke seductively, then took Will's hands in his and carefully lifted them to his face to kiss his knuckles. "I will be able to please you with what you wish when we get in Florence."

Hours later, long before dawn, they were both flying towards their new life together in Italy.

….

Dolarhyde returned that morning to look for Hector Dixon in the Boston Herald. A little more than a month had passed since that night they had met, and his desperation to find him still persisted. Not so much in the same way his physical energies. Despite being a strong man all this felt increasingly tedious. He had also had to move again. Moving was something he needed, but it did not cost too much effort because having burned down his own house now he did not have too many things. But surely his great bible and his projectors always required to have a special space, only for that reason he was never encouraged to only rent a room.

He continued to feed his addiction to hear the news of horrible crimes in the newspapers, but he had stopped requesting the newspapers in the newspaper library, since the newspapers he needed himself bought them and after taking some cuts he wanted, he threw them.

Without knowing it, the detective that Dixon had hired at that moment was also arriving at the newspaper archive. Since it was a custom since he had been hired by Dixon, he came directly to ask the manager if he had heard of the alleged John Bateman. But he could not give him that information again.

"I'm sorry, sir, but that Mr John Bateman has not really come in here. Even seeing it on security cameras we cannot recognize him if you do not give me any more information about him, I mean something else than only that characteristic, the scar on his upper lip," she said.

What nobody knew was that because the FBI was looking for Dolarhyde intensely based mostly on his scar by the cleft lip, Dolarhyde had started to make up the scar with a latex plaster every time he had to leave the house. With that disadvantage it would be much more difficult to locate him. Dolarhyde had also decided to wear brown contact lenses to darken his natural blue eyes and most of the time he wore a cap.

"But sir, I must tell you something that may interest you..." said the clerk, who was quite young and Detective Wells listened attentively.

"Please speak," he said.

"My companions have told me that since a few days ago a man has also been asking insistently for the name of... ah, wait a moment please, I have it written right here" said the lady and hurried to reach a personal notebook where she wrote down, the the detective waited impatiently, "Hector Dixon, by that name has been asking," said the woman.

The detective was shocked by the information the young archivist had given him. His expression betrayed his complete surprise, the girl was dubiously nervous but soon Detective Wells resumed his professional seriousness and took the little note with the name of Hector Dixon that the lady had just giving him.

"Oh, I'm sure it's the man I'm looking for. There cannot be too much coincidence," said the detective, looking at the note with a smile.

"Mmh maybe, although the man who came to ask for that name does not have a scar on his lip and does not have blue eyes. That's what I realized myself... that is, at that moment I took care of him and looked at him to the eyes, they were brown, but it was not me who he asked for Hector Dixon, he asked my companion. I was curious, so I asked my companion and he told me that guy has been coming to ask for that Hector Dixon constantly for weeks" she finished saying.

The detective was intrigued by what the girl had said. But he could not shake the thought of not following the man who had asked for Dixon.

"Does that man always come back at the same time?" The detective asked.

"Usually does, and every third day as my colleagues said," said the manager.

"When was the last time that man was here?" The detective asked.

"Just this afternoon, just over an hour ago," she said.

"What is the name of that man?" The detective asked again.

"He has not given us his name, he has never registered in the system and he does not show his identification here because he has not requested copies of the newspapers for home loan. He only shows his identification to the security personnel who is in charge of allowing entry. "

At that moment the man began to write a note and discreetly gave it to read to the young woman. She read it in silence.

The note read "I offer you a good sum of money if you allow me to capture that man of the videos of the security cameras"

The girl felt nervous again and looked up at him again.

"Tonight, when the newspaper library stops serving, sir," she said quietly and circumspectly.

As she had indicated, Detective Wells was there when the newspaper library was about to close. She had managed, with the help of a companion and friend of the newspaper library, to get for him captures made with her cell phone directly from the security cameras that day

Outside the building the detective waited for her and the girl passed him the videos she had captured.

That same night the detective would send the videos of the mysterious man to Dixon, his boss in turn who had hired him, while in England it was very early in the morning and Hector Dixon slept soundly, naked after having a hectic night of sex with his lover Peter Guillam .

At dawn, when was checking his computer with anxiety, Hector noticed that the detective had left a message where he put "I have news!"

Dixon eagerly opened the message and immediately noticed that the file also contained a video to play.

Dixon enthusiastically played the video. It was him, Francis Dolarhyde appeared in the video. Dixon, who really knew him, could not be wrong.

….

Hector's eyes widened with admiration. He felt immediately full of fervor. At last after all this time he had managed to get a clue to his alpha Adonis. He would definitely be his again. He played the video again and again; he was excited to imagine that manly man would penetrate him again with the same savagery very soon.

At that point, Dixon really felt exasperated by asking the detective a thousand questions about the location of Dolarhyde but it could not be possible. The detective was not online at the moment. Very possibly at that hour he was sleeping. Dixon cursed the time difference. He had no choice but had to wait a little longer.

"What are you looking at, Hec? New businesses?" inquired Guillam with a seductive voice, approaching him with stealth. Dixon was immediately exasperated to hear his voice speak behind him, because he had interrupted. Guillam was half naked, dressed only in his boxer. Dixon was naked under the purple silk robe he wore. Dixon barely turned to see Guillam, but Guillam continued to approach his murderous lover.

"Yes, something like this... I have some business to settle," Dixon replied, noting his annoyance a little. Guillam smiled in a satire.

"It does not seem to rejoice you this new work, Hec... you no longer enjoy to run the blood of the people that you kill?" said Guillam sarcastically.

Dixon turned to look at him and smirked briefly.

"Are you stupid? I could never stop enjoying it... And indeed this new job made me very excited, to tell you the truth," Dixon said tartly.

"Well I notice your annoyance, honey..." said Guillam trying to provoke him and took his chin with one hand and abruptly with the intention of stealing a rapturous kiss.

"What makes me annoys is you..." Dixon answered acidly.

Guillam laughed a little. Dixon got up from his seat, not without first closing the screen of his laptop and trying to ignore Guillam headed for the bathroom. On the way, Dixon stripped off his robe and exposed his nakedness. Guillam admired seeing his bare butt and back in front of him, and Dixon continued on his way to the shower, not closing the door. He began to let the warm water from the shower over his naked body and suddenly he could feel Guillam's invasive hands caressing his wet body. Guillam had stripped naked to get him into the shower.

"Hector...I cannot believe that despite all these sex-filled moments that we've enjoyed since our reconciliation you're still so annoying and elusive with me," Guillam muttered provocative behind his ear, still caressing Dixon's body sensually with his reckless hands, And began to nibble on one of his shoulders.

"We never had reconciliation, you bastard..." Dixon said harshly, then giggled as he lathered. And at his answer, Guillam began to squeeze Dixon's limb in his hand, and then began pulling him up to masturbate him.

"Hector... you always make me irritate... you cannot deny that we have had a very good reconciliation," said Guillam hoarsely, continued to stimulate the member of his hitman lover, he wanted to put it hard as he was already was.

"No, we only have sex... you only serve me for that, as long as I do not find another imbecile to play as a toy..." Dixon muttered mockingly, his voice was ecstatic gradually to feel the stimulation that his lover in turn was provoking him.

Guillam laughed again with irony and his form of masturbation became more searching, which caused Dixon to grumble and start moaning.

"Ahh..." Dixon moaned.

"And you always show how much you enjoy having this toy inside you," Guillam said close to his ear and tugged harder at Dixon's cock.

"Damn bastard..." Hector moaned with greater strength and at that moment Guillam shoved Dixon's blond head against the wall, making him tilt his butt further towards him and then Dixon could not help but shout a little as he felt Guillam penetrating him through complete with a single thrust, making its way to the bottom, with no more lubrication than the liquid soap at his side.

"Ahhh, you son of a bitch!" Dixon snapped as he felt Guillam begin to attack savage inside him, right there under the water of the shower, not allowing him to get accustomed to the invasion and while he was still keeping Dixon's body colliding against the wall. And as he lashed out aggressively into him, Guillam continued to masturbate him roughly and continuously stroked Dixon's nipples, now hardened by the great excitement.

After a good time of rough sex under the shower, their bodies came together to the climax of pleasure. When the orgasm of both spilled, it was diluted instantly with water.

When the morning sex dose ended, there was no kiss between them. As soon as Dixon could turn to see Guillam he spat in his face in anger, but Guillam immediately washed with the shower water. Dixon did not get a chance to strike him with a fury.

"You fucking bastard!" snapped Dixon after spitting. Guillam laughed funny and malicious from the bathroom door. Dixon's brow furrowed and a wry smirked sketched on his face. He was exasperated, his entrance hurt from the violent penetration and abrupt onslaughts, and seeing the mocking expression of Guillam exasperated him even more.

"Admit it, that's why you love this toy fuck you, Hec! At any time of day!" Guillam kept mocking him.

Hector looked at him for a moment again, had managed to catch up with him, and then lashed out at the member of Guillam who had just penetrated him, and squeezed him tightly in his hand which made Guillam wince with pleasurable pain.

"Ahhh, Hec..." Guillam managed to say before Dixon decided to squeeze his member more rudely.

"Your cock is mine..." Dixon warned threateningly to do him more harm but Guillam, who was taller and stronger, did not give him a chance and grabbed Dixon by the neck to force him back into the wall, releasing his manhood.

"Hec... you really are a damn bitch! You love provoking me to fuck you over and over, you do not have enough satiety... you do not have satiety..." Guillam snapped as he continued to hold Dixon against the wall, little of the floor, clenching his neck tightly with the intention of suffocating him. Dixon could not speak or get rid of him, but his expression did not cease his anger. Dixon was waiting for Guillam to fulfill his threat, he already imagined himself being savagely penetrated by him again under the showerhead, but suddenly Guillam stopped and let him go.

As Dixon touched his own neck trying to appease the damage that Guillam had done to him, Guillam wrapped a towel around his waist and started to leave the bathroom.

"I'm sorry you cannot have more of my cock for today, honey, but I must hurry to take care of some business," Guillam began, wryly "but I'm not worried, I'm totally sure you'll be able to get something or someone to fuck you in my absence."

"I can get into anything and it will always be better than your damn tiny, flaccid cock," Dixon replied with a smirk.

Guillam wanted to go back to him to teach him some lessons but he did not, he really was in a hurry to get out.

"You know you cannot, even if you boast about it, otherwise you would not have me fucking you every day, sweetheart," said Guillam, finishing dressing in front of Dixon, who was half naked looking at him from the door frame, but exposing before him the nakedness of his torso and his member.

Dixon hesitated a moment before answering, what Guillam had just said was true. Even he could not explain why if Guillam really annoyed him in the last days he simply could not let him go, nor did he want to do so. He tried to think that it was all a matter of time, and that when he could bring in the dark-haired man of Boston, he would not hesitate to get rid of Guillam. In the meantime, Guillam kept being his fiery lover.

At that moment Dixon took his weapon and pointed at Guillam who had finished dressing and was heading for the door.

"Do not go back Pete, I do not want to see you in a few damn days until I stop feeling annoyed. Dixon said as he continued to aim at him, Guillam had turned around to look at him and smirked at him as he turned the knob on the front door.

"I'll see you tomorrow, my love," Guillam said with mock sarcasm, and out the door, Guillam knew Dixon did not really mean it, because his relationship had become overly addictive and he could not resist when he returned to visit him to his penthouse the following night. Dixon was exasperated after having heard him call it that, he had never really endured anyone calling him my love, not even Guillam.

Dixon paused, clenched his fists tightly closed. He did not try to reach Guillam, he had no real purpose to do so despite the fact that he had annoyed him, and above all he was naked only wearing that robe that was still open.

He suddenly remembered that he had been waiting for some new message from Detective Wells from Boston or that he were online, and so without bothering to get dressed he hurried to his computer.

As soon as he was in front of the laptop, the expression on his face was filled with emotion when he saw that the detective was online and had just left a message for him. Dixon hurried to respond immediately and then the detective appeared on the screen.

"Dixon..." the detective greeted cordially, noting that Dixon's hair was wet from the recent shower.

"So you finally found him!" Dixon said with a wide smile that showed his perfect white teeth.

"Did you see the videos I sent you? They're from the Boston Herald security cameras," the detective explained.

"Of course! It's him! I'm completely sure! I'd never forget his face," Dixon said with a determined voice and great emotion in his eyes.

"The archivists say the man has been asking about you, Hector Dixon, for weeks," the detective said. Dixon's gaze brightened brighter as he heard him say that.

"And how come you did not hear about it before? You gotta contact him already, did not you?! Please, if he's looking for me himself, it cannot be so damn difficult!" said the blond in a loud and imposing voice, he was too impatient.

"The man has not presented himself to request copies of the newspapers, so there is no record of him, there are only three papers before the date that you indicated to me, where he was registered kike John Bateman, but he did not write his address because he only consulted the newspapers, and well, just yesterday by coincidence, one of the managers told me that. She told me that the guy asks insistently for you. Until now I haven't met him personally, besides seems he does not have the main features that you indicated to me. His eyes are brown and not blue and he does not have that scar upper the lip. But now that you have just confirmed that he is about him, tomorrow I will be aware of the presence of the man" said the detective.

"His eyes are brown? Are you sure? And why would he hide his scar? It all seems very strange..." said Dixon confused.

"Are you sure it's about him?" the detective asked.

"I told you that yes, it's him. I cannot be wrong. It's probably he's trying to hide something, but if he's been looking for me, it cannot be anyone else," said Dixon in awe. At that moment Dixon was overjoyed to have said his real name to the Boston dark-haired male, because if would have given him a false name, as he always did, this coincidence would not have happened and perhaps they would not have this clue to find him.

"If he's looking for me with that insistence surely he wants to repeat our delicious, intense sex..." Dixon thought to himself as he could not help but feel himself gradually aroused, which disturbed his member that was trapped in his crotch while his legs were crossed, and naked. He began to caress and stimulate himself under the table, he was naked only wearing that thin robe, but from the other side of the monitor the detective could not see.

"Dixon, tell me what you want me to do exactly when I am able talk to him," the detective said.

"Tell him that you go from my part, show him a picture of me and tell him that I'm looking for him too. Offer him a large sum of money if it's necessary. Show him a video message that I'm going to send you right now and tell him to wait for me, I'll flight by private jet to New York and then I'll be in Boston soon, without wasting any more time. You'll still be our mediator while he indicates an exact meeting point to reunite us again," Dixon said decisively, was getting much more excited, his cock had been erected lower under his restless hands and he began to pull it while his legs continued to cross.

"Okay, I'll keep you posted on everything that happens and what I say," said the detective. And as he had said, Dixon recorded a special video message for him, showing the same way he was at that moment, showing his bare chest and blond hair wet from the shower, while under the table was given pleasure to himself to calm his fever.

"Hey, sexy dark-haired, Johnny, I look forward to see you again. Please get in contact with me. My hot body is missing too much feeling possessed by yours. I need to feel you inside me, soon, I can't wait anymore,"

The voice Dixon had used sounded most sexy and provocative. And the fact of being naked, wearing only his silk robe and with damp hair, was quite timely, that made the message even more suggestive. In addition, Dixon was not ashamed to make a message as sensual and concrete as that to another man and send it through the detective. Anyway, the detective knew perfectly well that Dixon's intention, even if he had not clearly told it, was to find that dark-haired man of Boston to make him his lover.

….

Author's Note: At last after more than a year I was able to update! XD I hope you liked it ;D

BTW as always I apologize if I made mistakes! x(

I am very sorry for the delay but things have gotten very complicated in recent months. However I would never give up my fics and less because Richartin is present in my life every day of the year! :3 plus I already set out to compensate my fics!

I have the next chapter ready so I will upload it these days.