Part 1: Meeting Them

[Three Years Later]

Three years didn't seem that long ago when I still had nightmares about the man who'd kidnapped, tortured, and nearly killed me. I know I'd killed him but that didn't mean I was free of him. My dreams weren't safe. My thoughts weren't safe. The only thing that was safe was the knowledge that I wasn't him… even if I had horrific thoughts that could get me locked away for the remainder of my life.

Today was the day that I started my fifth college attempt. The only thing different about this time was that it was in London. I only had a few more classes to take before I could be considered fit to be an FBI profiler and I was planning on getting them done at my new university – King's College in London.

My schedule read as follows: Criminal Psychology, Counseling Methods, Understanding Victimology, and Private Piano. I also was being forced to go to the school's psychiatrist… who also happens to be my Counseling Methods teacher. I wasn't looking forward to someone picking at my brain.

Anyways, the FBI had helped me get a small apartment for my stay in London and a car so that I wouldn't have to take a taxi or a bus… I wasn't good with public transportation. Actually, I just wasn't good with the public at all. But I needed to get to school one way or another and a car was my best option.

As I pulled up into the parking lot of the university, I cringed as I parked. Tons of people were rushing towards their classrooms.

I took a deep breath and stepped out, reaching behind the seat to grab my backpack. Once it was settled on my shoulders I locked my car and headed towards where I knew the office was. I needed to get my official schedule and I needed someone to show me around the school so that I wouldn't get lost - an unlikely event but I just wanted to play it safe.

Stepping into the office I was greeted by a cool breeze from the small fan on the desk and the smell of coffee that had been on the burner too long.

The lady sitting at the desk stood up and smiled at me as I walked up to her desk. "May I help you, young lady?"

I gave a small nod. "My name is Midnight Whisper and I'm supposed to start classes today. I'm a transfer… from the U.S."

The lady's smile grew and she offered me her hand to shake but I gave a small shake of my head and kept my hands in my pocket. She just gave a small shrug and moved off to the side to dig for a folder. My folder probably. "So your name is Midnight Whisper. That's a very peculiar name, one I've never heard before."

I shifted back and forth on the balls of my feet. "My… my parents were the hippy type."

She finally straightened up with my folder in her hand and gave a small chuckle. "That would explain your name. Personally I think it's a lovely name and I'm glad we get a chance to have you as a student here, Miss Whisper." She sat down at her computer and began typing away at her keyboard. "So have you taken a tour of the school grounds yet?"

I shook my head before I realized she couldn't hear the rocks rattling in my head. "Sorry. No, no I haven't had the chance yet. I just arrived in London yesterday and I was busy unpacking my things."

"Oh, well that's alright then." She stood up and handed me my printed schedule. "This is your official schedule for this semester, Miss Whisper, and if you'll wait a moment I'll call someone to come show you around to all your classes."

"Mrs. Lane."

I felt my heart flutter at the sound of a man's accented voice behind me. I clutched my books and looked down at the floor, afraid of seeing who was behind me.

"Ah! Mr. Mathiasen."

I felt the air behind me shift as this Mr. Mathiasen stepped up behind me. "I couldn't help but overhear that you needed someone shown around the university. May I be of some assistance?"

Mrs. Lane quickly walked around her desk until she was standing beside both me and Mr. Mathiasen. She motioned for me to turn and face the man so I slowly did, dragging my feet a little. I refused to look anywhere but at his shoes… which happened to be spotlessly clean and polished.

"Miss Whisper, I'd like to introduce you to one of your teachers. This is Mr. Mathiasen, he teaches your Counseling Methods class… and, if your schedule is correct, he's also going to be seeing you for counseling as well."

I clinched my jaw at having those words spoken aloud. I was a little sensitive when it came to me having to see a shrink. I gave a small grunt and a nod. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Mathiasen."

Mr. Mathiasen gave a small laugh but he never offered me his hand nor did he push on the subject of me being his patient. "Miss Whisper. I would like to ask your permission to escort you around campus. Only if you feel comfortable though. I understand some students are… reluctant to talk with a teacher if it isn't about homework or extra credit."

"I…" I shifted a little and slowly tilted my head upwards until I could just barely see the bottom of his chin.

I didn't like looking into people's eyes very often. I was afraid they would see into my soul and see what kind of person I really was inside – a monster.

His clothes were clean and wrinkleless, his tie knotted perfectly. He had a light shadow of whiskers on his chin and jaw where he'd shaved earlier and his hair lightly curled around his ears. Everything about him screamed male perfection while my heart started to pitter-patter against my chest.

I took another breath and tried speaking again. "I guess I wouldn't mind being shown around. It's better than getting lost on my own and missing my first day of classes."

Mr. Mathiasen turned towards Mrs. Lane again and gave a small bow. "I'll take her from here, Mrs. Lane." Mrs. Lane gave a small clap before she hurried back behind her desk, wishing me a good semester as me and Mr. Mathiasen stepped out of the office.

He guided me outside and stopped me at the top of the stairs. "Miss Whisper, I'd like to ask you a question and I want you to know you don't have to give me an answer right now." He paused a moment before continuing. "Please look at me."

I sucked in a shallow breath and reached up to tuck my hair behind my ears before tilting my face completely upwards so that I could look him in the eyes, something I rarely did for anyone. "Ask."

He inclined his head and gave a small grin. His lips weren't full; instead they were slim and tilted like an awkward bow but when he gave that small grin I couldn't stop myself from swallowing roughly. "Are you afraid of me?"

My rough swallow turned into a small gasp as I took a small step backwards, tittering on the edge of the staircase. "Why would you ask that? I think it's rather inappropriate to ask your students something like that."

Mr. Mathiasen took that small step back from me and reached out to touch the pulse at the base of my throat. "I'm asking because I'm not blind. You're pulse started racing with fear the second you heard me speak behind you. I just wanted to be sure and… I don't want to force you into counseling if you're not comfortable around me."

I shrugged away his hand and took a step down away from him.

In a matter of moments he'd spotted one of my weaknesses, one of my fears. A fear that had been hard to get over considering I'd nearly been killed by a man. It made me uncomfortable to think about, having my walls torn down so quickly by someone who knew nothing about me.

"Mr. Mathiasen, I think that I can find my own way to my classes. I… I'll just…" I turned away with the hopes of escaping before my panic started setting in. It wasn't just him, but all men. I wasn't necessarily afraid of him… more like cautious.

Mr. Mathiasen reached out and quickly grabbed my hand, gently squeezing it. "Breathe, Miss Whisper. I'm not going to hurt you. Rather, I should apologize for asking such a thing. It was indeed wrong. We're not in my office and I'm not you're psychiatrist just yet."

I looked down at the weathered hand holding mine and then back up at him, meeting his dark brown eyes. There was darkness inside of him, I could see it in his eyes, but he really didn't want to harm me. There was something of interest there. Something just behind the surface, something which felt like a dark, private secret no one was supposed to know.

I found myself moving back up the steps until I was level with him. "You won't hurt me, will you?"

He grinned. "Not me, Miss. Whisper. Not me."

"But who then?"

He gave a slow blink before pulling away from me and releasing my hand. "We should start with that tour before you end up missing all of your classes today."

In an instant he was back to being a blank slate, a man who screamed the need for perfection and order; the need for control.

I couldn't help but blink up at him like he'd just given me whip-lash.

I frowned and slowly nodded, unsure of what had just happened. "Sure, Mr. Mathiasen. I'm sorry for freaking out. I just got to London yesterday so it's probably just jetlag making me this emotional."

Mr. Mathiasen just gave a nod of his head and beckoned me down the steps. "Not a problem, Miss Whisper."

It was now the end of the day and my first round of classes were done. They had gone a lot smoother than I'd have originally thought, considering that I was behind by a few months. But the teachers seemed to understand so I planned on catching up as quickly as I could.

Now the only thing I had left to do today was go to my first session with Mr. Mathiasen.

That initial scare this morning had finally worn off and I was actually curious as to what kind of man Mr. Mathiasen was. There was just something about him that struck me as unique. I couldn't place it but the monster inside of me, my horrifying imagination, had lifted its head and caught the scent.

I nervously tugged at my headphones as I made my way towards Mr. Mathiasen's office. Most of the students had left campus so I was able to quickly weave my way around the few remaining people and stop in front of his office.

I gave a gentle rap and pressed my ear against the door. I heard the strains of Mozart's Violin Concerto No. 5 in A major, II Adagio for a moment before hearing cloth moving against cloth and Mr. Mathiasen's footsteps.

I stepped back just as he answered the door. I tipped my head up to meet his eyes as he blinked down at me. He was much taller than me and filled the doorway. "Miss Whisper. You're early."

I shuffled a little on the balls of my feet. "I'm sorry. I just got out of classes and I figured I'd head over early so we can get this thing done with. I'm…" I paused and looked down at the floor. "I'm not fond of having someone pick at my brain."

Mr. Mathiasen stifled a small laugh with his hand which caused me to look up and arch a brow at him. His eyes seemed to have taken on a certain sparkle of amusement and that mysterious darkness peeked through again. "You don't have to worry about me… picking at your brain." He stepped to the side and held his door open so I could step past him. "Please, come in. I just have to finish grading a few assignments before we can get started."

As I stepped around him I got a peek at the décor of his office. It wasn't what I had expected.

Many of the psychiatrist's offices weren't very organized; instead they were cluttered with paintings, books, and sculptures. Things that didn't have any flow or theme, just things the psychiatrist thought would best reflect his or her tastes.

Mr. Mathiasen's office was so organized that I couldn't find anything out of order. The bookcases touched the arching ceiling and were filled with hundreds of perfectly organized books. His desk sat at the far side of the office, neatly stacked with papers that framed his open laptop. In the center, just in front of me, were two black leather reclined chairs with tables on each side. One held a blank tablet of paper and the other a box of tissues. His walls were painted a very soft, almost whispery blue. His office definitely had flow to it.

I slowly turned as Mr. Mathiasen closed the door and gave a small smile. "You're office is much better than my other shrink's offices."

Mr. Mathiasen gave a small nod of his head and moved towards his desk. "Thank you." His stride was confident and stealthy, much like a cat with each graceful step. He slid into his leather chair and picked up one of the surrounding papers before peering at me over the top of his laptop. "You may take a seat if you like. Or you can look at my books. Most of them aren't in English I'm afraid. I'm a bit of a collector of foreign books. Latin, French, Lithuanian."

I sat my backpack down beside the leather chair with the tissues next to it and turned back to arch a brow at him. "Lithuanian?"

He gave the smallest of shrugs. "My family originated from Lithuania. I find the language interesting."

"Oh." He looked back down at the paper he was grading so I slowly walked over to one of the bookcases and gently touched the spines of the books I could reach. Being five foot four made it kind of hard to get to things higher up. "So what made you want to do psychiatry, Mr. Mathiasen?"

"I find humans to be rather interesting."

His answer was good enough for me so I just continued on along the bookcases, moving closer to where Mr. Mathiasen's desk sat.

When I was level with it I grabbed one of the books off of the shelf and turned to face him, gently cracking it open. The pages smelled old, a musty scent that I really liked. "Do you have any family, Mr. Mathiasen? A wife and children? Brothers and sisters?"

Mr. Mathiasen didn't respond right away but waited until he was finished marking on the paper in his hand before tilting his head to the side. A lock of his hair shifted across the bridge of his nose but he didn't bother to move it. "No. My parents and my sister have been dead for a long time. And no woman has ever piped my interest in marriage. My only relationship is my job."

I shifted my attention away from his observant brown eyes and turned my back to him so that I could place the book back where it had been… and so that he couldn't see me. "My family is gone too."

Mr. Mathiasen was as silent as a cat because I didn't know he'd moved away from his desk until his hand gently touched my shoulder and his voice rumbled behind me. "Tell me about them."

I shook my head and gripped the shelf in front of me. Mr. Mathiasen gently reached up and one by one pulled my fingers away from the shelf before guiding me back towards the chairs. "I won't say anything or write anything down if that will make you feel more comfortable, but talking about your family would be a good place to start."

I sat down and slid all the way back against the chair and pulled my knees up against my chest. I started a light rocking motion and watched as Mr. Mathiasen took a seat in front of me. "Did you read my file that was sent along with my school application?"

"No."

I frowned. "Isn't that what you're supposed to do though? Do some research on your patient before sitting down and make them repeat everything?"

Mr. Mathiasen leaned back in his chair and crossed one of his legs over the other, resting his hands on his raised knee. "I'm not like other psychiatrists. I have my own methods and one of them is to start fresh with each new patient. I'm not going to look at what the others have said because they're not me."

We both stared at each other for a few moments before I broke eye contact and started to pick at a thread from my jeans. "My mother and father were middle class Americans. My father, James, worked for a bank while my mother, Marionette, sold Avon and took care of the house. I was their only child and they wanted the best for me so they sent me to a private school from the time I was eligible to go till I was…" I closed my eyes and started rocking back and forth again. Memories of my parent's smiles flashed in my mind and their screams filled the silence. "They were murdered when I was seventeen."

Mr. Mathiasen's breath hitched and I heard him lean forward in his chair. "Did you see it happen?"

"Yes."

"Were you scared?"

"… yes." I whispered it as I peeked out from behind my bangs at him. His eyes were darker than they had been previously, almost black, and his lips were slightly parted. The monster inside my head seemed almost to purr at the sight of his fascination with my fear. There was no way of missing it and strangely it was attractive to me.

"Tell me what happened."

I watched him for a few more seconds before I shook my head and straightened my legs so that I could lean forward, mirroring Mr. Mathiasen's body. "Have you ever heard of a man called the Collector?"

He gave the barest of nods. "A man who collects people like an entomologist would collect bugs. If they don't make his collection he kills them. He keeps one victim from every place he kills. Usually he hunts families in their homes, setting traps for them and then tortures them… testing to see if they were perfect for his grotesque collection."

His words were all correct. That's exactly who the Collector was and that's who had tortured me for four years.

I licked my lips before speaking. "They didn't make the collection."

"But you did, didn't you?"

I inclined my head in acknowledgement as I watched his hands smooth along his tie and his chest rise and fall beneath his shirt. They were the only signs that he was enjoying this conversation. "Have you studied the monsters, Mr. Mathiasen?"

"One or two… but they were years ago before I settled down as a… normal psychiatrist."

He watched me intently as I stood up and picked up my bag, sliding my arms through the straps. As I moved to the door of his office and placed my hand on the handle I looked over my shoulder at him and smiled a sad smile. "I'm a monster too."

After the door closed behind me I slumped against it for a few moments and pressed my palms against my eyes. Even admitting that I was a monster brought out my darkness but adding that to remembering what had happened to me made it worse.

The sound of footsteps moving towards the door sent me stumbling away as I escaped outside as fast as I could. I didn't want anyone to see me in this state and I didn't want Mr. Mathiasen to judge me for my reactions.

When I got to my car I unlocked it and threw my backpack into the passenger seat as I slid behind the wheel. I turned the car on but didn't shift it into drive; instead I wrapped my arms around the steering wheel and pressed my head against my hands, banging it gently. "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I'm so stupid."

Finally after my thoughts stilled and my heart rate dropped back to normal I sat up and pushed my eyes out of my hair before shifting into drive.

The ride home was quite, without the radio on and without my phone ringing. I liked it that way.

When I got home I locked my car in the garage and slipped inside my house. Domino, my tomcat, curled around my ankles and meowed up at me.

I smiled and leaned down to pick him up, burying my face against his fur. "Hey, Domino. What'cha doing? Did you miss me, buddy?" He butted his head against my chin and made me giggle. "I bet I know what you want, huh?"

As I stepped into the kitchen and plopped Domino down onto the counter I reached over and pushed the button for my voice messages.

-"Midnight, this is Crawford. Just wanted to let you know I'm sending an agent to London because we need your help on an old case that has resurfaced. I know you've got classes but if you could help us with this it would be wonderful. Our regular profiler is… having trouble. He should be in London by the time you get this message so don't freak if you're approached by a strange guy. Call me."-

I sighed and deleted the message before digging around in the cabinets above the dishwasher for some wet kitty food.

"Want me to help on a case. Sending an agent. Blah, blah. I haven't even been here more than two days."

I popped open the can and scooped it into Domino's food bowl. I scratched down his back as he began stuffing his face with salmon and cheese. "Do you think I should call him and tell him I can't help right now? I'm not officially an agent yet." Domino ignored me as he chowed down.

I gave another sigh and pushed away from the counter. "Turd."

I pulled my cell out of my pocket and speed dialed Fishburne. He answered on the second ring. "Crawford here, what do you want?"

"You told me to call."

"Has Will arrived yet?"

"Who's Will?"

"The agent I sent."

"Oh." I walked into the livingroom and pulled down one of the blinds to peek out at the street. No one was out there. "Nope, he's not here yet."

Crawford growled into the phone. "Dammit."

"Uhu… why send him anyways? I'm kinda busy with school you know."

I could practically hear Crawford roll his eyes. "He has pure empathy… he… he can get into the mind of the monsters… essentially recreating the crimes."

My pulse jumped at the word monster and I swallowed roughly, my throat suddenly dry. "And I'm practically one so you thought we should team up."

Crawford lowered his voice calmingly, something he rarely did. "You're not a monster, Midnight. We've talked about this. Just because you saw what you saw and think what you think doesn't make you one. You're only a monster if you act on those thoughts. Everyone thinks about killing someone at one time or another but that doesn't make us monsters. It's the actions, Midnight, not solely our thoughts."

"So you say." I turned away from the window and plopped down onto my couch, closing my eyes and pressing my free palm against my forehead. "Tell me about Will so I don't mistake him as someone trying to kill me and then I end up killing him."

"Midnight."

"What?! I'm just saying, jeesh."

Crawford was silent for a long moment before answering me. "Will is special. He… he's kind of more or less along the spectrum of Asperger's… so he is still valuable. He doesn't have Asperger's, if that makes sense, but his mind works that way; he has an empathy disorder where he reads too much in a person or situation and it overwhelms him. He hates being social and he regularly has nightmares after cases because he literally places himself in the minds of the monsters. That's what allows him to catch them. He becomes them. Afterwards it's hard for him to return to his real self and his nightmares are a part of that process. He doesn't like being touched and he doesn't like looking people in the eyes when he talks to them. And…" Crawford's pause made me frown against my palm. "And he's also been the victim of a serial killer."

"So he's a nut like me, right?"

"In a sense, yes."

I groaned and sat up so that I could pick at my pants again. "Great. I'm so thrilled to work with him." I let my sarcasm drip as much as possible in the hopes of Fishburne catching onto it.

"Shut it, Midnight."

"Whatever. I'm hanging up now so I can wait joyfully to greet my new partner. Bye."

"Wait…" I hung up before Fishburne could continue what he was saying. I glared at my phone before tossing it onto the livingroom table.

Before I could decide what to do there was a light knock on my front door. I reached under one of my couch cushions and pulled out my small Browning handgun and then headed to the door. I peeked through the peephole and found a mass of dark brown curls blocking my view. "Back up and let me see your face… and tell me your name."

The man took a couple slow steps backwards until I could see his face clearly. He had scruff on his chin and jaws and his hair looked like it could be combed… even though the curls were cute. His classes were almost bug-like but suited him perfectly. As if he could feel my eyes on his glasses he absently pushed them up the bridge of his nose. "My name is Will… Will Graham. Jack Crawford sent me… I… I'm sorry I'm a little late. I got lost. This neighborhood is rather distracting."

I stared out at him for a few more seconds before I began unlocking my deadbolts and other locks. I never came in through the front door but when I did it took me a long time to unlock all of my locks. I liked the feeling of security they offered.

As I opened the door I clicked on the safety on my Browning and stepped back away from the door. "I'm Midnight. You can just call me Midnight. You can, uh… come in. As long as you take your shoes off and hang your jacket on the coat rack just inside the door."

Will, still refusing to look me in the eyes, stepped around me and slid off his shoes. I closed the door and began locking it again as he slid out of his jacket and placed it on the coat rack. "Do you always answer your door with a loaded gun?"

I tapped my Browning against my leg and couldn't help but grin. "It makes for interesting conversation if I let guests in."

For the first time as he turned to face me, Will looked me in the eyes and smiled. He had a school boy charm about him, one that would normally make your knees weak… but I wasn't really affected. "And do you normally let them in?"

I shrugged. "Nope."

"Me neither. I like my house as private as possible."

It seemed like we both had the same tendencies and I sort of felt appreciation towards him. I walked past him back into the livingroom and plopped down on the couch.

Will followed behind me and took the seat across from me, relaxing with a small sigh. I tucked my Browning back beneath the cushion. "So, Will, tell me about this case that has resurfaced."

Will slid the strap of his messenger back off of his shoulder and pulled it onto his lap. He opened the flap and pulled out an old beat-up looking folder that was filled to the brim. He stood up and laid it on the table in front of me before beginning. "Have you ever heard of the serial killer Hannibal Lecter?"

I leaned forward and picked up the folder, gently opening it and picking up the first police report on top. "I've heard the name but I haven't studied his case. I thought he was captured?"

Will shook his head. "I was the agent who first put him in prison… after he'd tried to kill me when I found out who he was. Before he escaped, another agent, Clarice, took on his case after I became too traumatized by the case. Clarice almost caught him when he escaped but he was too sly and he slipped away. We haven't seen him for quite a few years… until a few recent cannibal cases popped up around the London area."

"And you think he's still alive and eating people?"

"He might be… or it might be a copy-cat. Either way we have to… we have to find him and bring him back in."

I sat back and flipped through page after page of reports and evidence. I didn't bother looking at the pictures because I knew that if this cannibal was Lecter he wouldn't look anything like he did back then. "How did he try to kill you?"

I looked up in time to catch Will's frown. He sucked in his bottom lip and I watched as his chest started raising and falling faster. His words, when he did speak, were soft.

Definitely a sign that Lecter had scarred him deeper than most knew.

"We were friends, me and Dr. Lecter. We worked on a few cases together and he was a brilliant forensic psychiatrist. He understood me unlike the other people around me and he helped my skills grow. When… when I found out that he was the cannibal that I was looking for at the time, I called him in but he attacked me… he… nearly killed me. I haven't been the same since then."

"So we're both survivors."

Will snapped his head up, dragging himself from his thoughts. "Pardon?"

I gave a small, humourless laugh. "Nothing." I scooted to the edge of the couch and laid the folder back down on the table. "Is Crawford going to be coming to London for this?"

"No. He thought that the both of us would be good on this, along with the help of the agents and police here."

I nodded. "Ok. Good, because he's a dick and sometimes he gets on my nerves… even though he's good at what he does."

My statement made Will laugh and it shocked the both of us. I had sort of taken him for someone who never laughed, but I guess I was wrong. "Haha! I'll agree with that. As long as you won't tell Crawford I did."

I let out a small giggle and nodded that I wouldn't.

When Will had settled back down he was suddenly all serious again. He scratched at his scruff and sighed. "I haven't laughed like that since Lecter and I worked together."

"You guys were good friends, weren't you?"

Will nodded slowly. "He didn't treat me as if I was a freak. I was almost… special to him."

"I'm sorry he turned out to be the bad guy."

"Me too. I don't get to know many people like that very often. I don't like socializing. Ever."

I knew how he was feeling all too well. I decided that I wouldn't mind working with Will after all. He didn't seem like a bad person, just a little misunderstood.

With a firm nod I stood up and walked over to him. His eyes followed me as I stopped beside him and he arched a brow. I offered him my hand, something I rarely did, and waited for him to shake it. "I won't judge you, Will. I know how it feels and I know the weight we both bear on our shoulders so I'm not going to be like every other dookie-head out there."

Will cracked a small grin, a small childish light brightening his fragile aura. He slowly reached out and gripped my hand, giving it a firm shake. "Glad to meet you, Midnight."

I flashed him a bright smile back. "Nice to meet you too, Will. Let's work well together."