Emma slammed her car door, ducking her head down as she ran through the pouring rain to the front of the office building. It was Friday, and her appointment started in five minutes. She threw open the door and rushed inside, shutting it tightly behind her. She used her already dampened hands to try and wipe some of the superficial water off the top of her head to no avail. With a sigh, she straightened her simple, raindrop-stained, purple dress before taking a seat. Right as she sat down, Dr. Lecter opened the door and ushered her inside.

"Emma, how wonderful to see you; please, take a seat." Lecter snapped the door shut before joining Emma at the sitting area. "How have you been these past few days?"

"It's a pleasure to see you as well, Doctor. I've been well, thank you for asking. And yourself?"

"Perfectly satisfactory, thank you Emma. Let's begin, shall we? What would you like to discuss today?" Lecter inquired with a solicitous smile.

Emma's gaze wandered around the spacious office as she pondered; she took in the vast collection of books he had procured, as well as his tasteful choice in furnishings. "I'm not quite sure, Doctor," she said truthfully. "I'm not very good at this part of the sessions." Emma smiled self-deprecatingly.

"How about we start with something relatively easy? Tell me about your move. Why Baltimore?"

At this inquiry, Emma paled slightly and her gaze turned downward. She looked up under her eyelashes at him, and blew her long bangs out of her face. "Honestly Dr. Lecter, I chose Baltimore because it was the first place I thought of that was as far away from St. Louis as I could get. I guess it didn't hurt that I had been offered a position at the art museum here in the city earlier this month. All I had to do was call them up, ask about the position, and they gave it to me with no questions asked except when could I start. That was definitely a plus."

Well that's intriguing, Lecter thought. Not missing a beat, he stated, "Ms. Chamberlin, I do believe you dodged part of my question. Why did you choose to move in the first place?" He folded his hands, leaning back in his chair to observe her carefully.

Emma smiled sheepishly. "My apologies, Dr. Lecter, that wasn't entirely my intention." She took in a deep breath, exhaling noisily. "The main reason for my move was to get as far away from an ex-boyfriend as was possible while still being able to further my career." She hesitated. "He…wasn't the nicest to me." As she spoke, Lecter noticed her touching a light scar that rested across her left cheekbone. If one did not look carefully for it, one wouldn't even notice its presence on her otherwise unmarked face. His curiosity was most definitely piqued.

"I noticed you touching the scarring on your cheek. I take it that was from him?"

Dropping her hand as if scalded, she studied Lecter's expensive shoes as she said, "He referred to it as 'something to remember him by.' You recall me mentioning that the museum here had offered me that job?" Lecter nodded. "Well, I was dating Sean at the time. I was so excited about the prospect of furthering my career and actually putting my art history and anthropology degrees to use for once. I had wanted to move out here as soon as they'd asked me; he took that as me expressing desire to leave him behind. That's when I got this…this 'memento.'" Emma radiated shame and disgust as she told her tale. She forced a smile. "I have a knack for wanting people in my life that are no good for me."

Lecter leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and clasping his hands in front of himself. His acute eyes read every flicker of emotion that passed Emma's face. He saw the anguish, shame, fear, and resentment as soon as it manifested. With her last statement, he felt a twinge of emotion in his chest; as soon as he recognized its appearance, he brushed it away as a triviality. "This man's actions were his alone; you should feel neither responsibility, nor accountability for them. This type of behavior would have presented itself with any romantic partner. That kind of man thrives on power; not just any power, but the specific kind that comes with dominance and making one submit through any and all means. Once he acquires that power, he will not be willing to let it go easily. I take it that there was a specific set of events that spurred your move here?"

Emma nodded slowly, meeting the psychiatrist's astute eyes. "He broke into my place," she said bluntly. "I came home from work one day and written on the walls in red paint were the words, 'Miss me yet?' He…he drew a red line over my eyes in each of the pictures in my apartment." She shuddered. "The next day I placed the phone call to Baltimore and packed my things."

"How long ago did this take place?"

"Almost two weeks ago. As you can see, I wasted no time whatsoever in seeking out a new psychiatrist," said Emma wryly.

Lecter chuckled at Emma's attempt to lighten the mood; he could tell that she was done with the subject for today and he wouldn't press her just yet. "Tell me about this new position you took. What exactly are your duties?" Lecter frequented the museum in order to attend everything from galas to the new exhibitions; he was rather astonished he hadn't run into her yet.

With that question, Emma's entire demeanor changed. She was in her element. With bright eyes and enthusiastic gesticulations, she said, "I mostly work behind the scenes. I authenticate and date everything from ancient Egyptian artifacts recovered from new archaeological digs, to famous paintings by Renoirs and Degas. I consider myself to be one of the luckiest people on Earth; not many can say they've handled a genuine piece by the artists from their high school history lessons." A wide grin caused the skin around her eyes to crinkle slightly in the corners, managing to showcase her twinkling orbs even more. "Needless to say, I adore my job."

Lecter was impressed. Her admiration of art rivaled his own, and the more he talked with Ms. Chamberlin, the more he was appreciative of her. This alone would make her a welcome guest at his dinner table. "It sounds like a very rewarding position. I daresay you shall endeavor to bring more variety to the museum than the past individual." His liver worked well in the main course though; I will give him that.

Emma beamed. "Thank you Dr. Lecter. It would be no stretch of the imagination to assume you frequent the museum? One of my coworkers spoke very highly of you; apparently she had received some treatment from you a few years back and said you held the highest reputation of any psychiatrist in Baltimore." She grinned slyly. "She might have also mentioned how incredibly handsome you are, and warned me to do my best to not fall in love with you."

Lecter cocked his head. "Is that something you usually do, Ms. Chamberlin? Fall in love with those assisting you in bettering your mental health?"

Emma gazed up at Lecter innocently. "Dr. Lecter, I can truthfully say that I do my very best to never fall for my psychiatrists." Her eyes gained a glimmer of mischief. "I merely gain a healthy appreciation for them." She laughed at her own joke. "In all seriousness, Dr. Lecter, I have thus far never developed a crush on my psychiatrist; a dependency, probably, but to this date never anything of a romantic notion. I hope that relieves any concern you might have developed," said Emma as she smiled warmly at him.

Lecter returned Emma's smile. "I will make sure to bear that in mind. However, I believe that is all the time we have for today. I will see you Tuesday at 5 pm. I should also mention that I have a 24 hour cancellation policy, so please call in advance if something arises and you will not be able to attend our scheduled appointment," he said as he walked her to the door. Opening it widely, he stood with his back to the door, facing Emma.

"Thank you, Dr. Lecter. So far, these appointments have been more of a joy than a burden. I appreciate your dedication to your work." Emma turned to leave. "Goodbye, Doctor. I hope you have a pleasant weekend!"

"You as well, Ms. Chamberlin," he said with a small smile.

As Emma was about to exit the waiting room, the outer door opened alarmingly quickly, smacking her into the wall. As she made impact with the wall, her head slammed into it. Emma slid to the floor, feeling incredibly dizzy. Will Graham peeked around the door to see what it had hit, eyes widening in alarm. He rushed to her, checking her head. Hannibal quickly walked over to the pair, kneeling beside Ms. Chamberlin.

With concern lacing his lovely voice, Hannibal asked, "Emma, are you alright?"

"Just a bit dizzy, no worries. I'm sure it's all fine." She tried to stand up along with Hannibal, only to feel her legs give out. He caught her quickly, bringing her close so that she could use his frame as a support. She tried to stand on her own again, only to begin collapsing once more. Hannibal put an arm beneath her torso, the other under her knees, and picked her up, carrying her to his office. He laid her on the chaise lounge on the opposite side of the room, crouching down beside her. Will had followed him into the room and stood beside the chaise, rubbing the back of his head in worry and embarrassment. "Will she be alright?" he asked Hannibal quietly.

Hannibal was examining Emma's head, pressing lightly with nimble fingertips along her skull. "My thoughts are she should be fine. Just some bruising and maybe a slight concussion." Emma was gazing at the ceiling, taking deep breaths, before she turned slightly to Will, smiled, and held out her hand.

"I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting. I'm Emma Chamberlin."

Will reached out and shook her hand lightly with his own, his face caught somewhere between a grin and a grimace. "Will Graham. I'm sorry that we met under these conditions, Ms. Chamberlin."

"Please, call me Emma. No need to be so formal with me, Mr. Graham. I'm delighted to make your acquaintance, even if the circumstances leave something to be desired," said Emma with a wry smile. "Ouch." Her forehead crumpled as the doctor's skilled fingers pressed on a particularly sensitive area.

"Well then if I'm to call you Emma, it's only fair you call me Will," he said with a warm smile. "I take it you're a patient of Hannibal's?"

She beamed at him. "Yes sir, I certainly am! This was my second session. I made the mistake of thinking the rest of my day was to be dull," said Emma with a wink and a laugh. She turned to Hannibal and murmured, "I'm sure I can stand now, Doctor. I don't want to keep you from your business with Will. I'm so sorry I've impeded on your time as much as I already have. I feel dreadful for it." She sat up gently, clutching her head. "Note to self: pick up aspirin on the way home."

Hannibal stood up gradually as he scrutinized her. "Let me check your eyes and if the results are normal then I'll help you to your car." He walked over to his desk, opened one of the heavy wooden drawers, and retrieved a slender flashlight. As he neared Emma, he switched it on and sat closely beside her on the chaise. Emma's nose was assaulted by the pleasant smell of the psychiatrist, and before she got caught up in trying to decipher what exactly his scent was comprised of, she focused firmly on his words. "Look directly at my finger and follow it with your eyes." As he moved his finger left to right, he studied her eye movement as well as dilation. He frowned slightly. "Emma, I would feel much better if you would allow either Will or me to drive you home."

Emma looked horrified. "Oh Dr. Lecter I couldn't possibly take up more of your time and hinder your ability to discuss things with Will! You two had this appointment set up for weeks I'm sure! I'll walk to a bus stop or something, honestly, I'll be fine. Please don't let me keep you from your meeting!"

"Nonsense, you are not going to take the bus. Will, was there anything of a time-sensitive nature we needed to discuss, or would it be alright if we rescheduled for later this evening at my home?"

"Dr. Lecter, that's not necessary, I assure you. I just wanted to update you on a new case and run a few ideas past you. I had only planned on staying for 20 minutes. It can wait until tomorrow."

Hannibal frowned lightly as he thought. "Emma, would you be alright waiting briefly while Will and I discuss this? Then either he or I can drive you home and make sure you're alright."

Emma looked positively miserable at the fact that these gentlemen had to go out of their way for her. "You're doing me the service of taking me home, Doctor; I'd wait the entire day if that were what was convenient for you."

Lecter smiled at her warmly; she really did have impeccable manners. "Alright, Emma, you just rest here and Will and I will step into the waiting room to talk."

Emma shot up, clutching her head as she did so. "No, no, Doctor! The least I can do is move out of your way so you can use your own office. I'll sit in the waiting room." Before either Will or Hannibal could object, Emma was treading unsteadily toward the office door.

Will rushed up beside her and helped her into one of the waiting room chairs.

"Thanks," said Emma shakily with a wan smile.

Will awkwardly returned the expression. "You sure you're okay out here? It honestly shouldn't take long at all."

Emma gazed up at him somewhat blearily. "I'll be fine, Will. It's just a bump on the head. And who knows, if we're lucky maybe it jarred things around just right and fixed some of my problems!"

Will chuckled and hesitantly headed back toward the office. As he closed the door behind him, he spotted Hannibal placing the flashlight back in its designated drawer. Will sat down in his usual chair, waiting for Hannibal to join him.

"She's extremely likeable," said Will as he drummed his hands on the arms of the leather chair.

Hannibal seated himself smoothly, crossing his legs. "Yes, she is, isn't she? Quite refreshing from the usual patients I encounter."

"I can't believe I slammed the door into her. As if this day couldn't get any more complicated," said Will with a sigh. "Did you want to take her home, or should I?"

"Let's see who lives closest to her, and make the decision based on that. I'm sure she'd hate for either of us to even be the slightest inconvenienced. Now, what did you want to discuss with me? You mentioned something about a new case?"

Will removed his glasses and rubbed his hand over his face roughly. "Yeah, this afternoon I went out to a crime scene just outside Baltimore; there was a cliff face there. The killer had skinned the victim and used her flesh, blood, and hair to make a piece of artwork on the rock. We're trying to figure out if the piece is an original or if it's a copy of a famous work. That will give us more of a clue into the motive. I know you're, well, cultured for lack of a better term, and I was wondering if you recognized it." Will pulled a photograph out from his messenger bag, leaning over to hand it to Lecter.

Lecter studied the photo, and couldn't recall ever having seen the piece before. "I'm sorry Will, the artwork doesn't look familiar." He thought for a moment. "Emma works at the museum here in the city. Perhaps you should ask her opinion."

Will frowned, shaking his head slightly. "I'm not sure I should, especially with her head injury. Is she even stable enough to view something of this nature?"

Hannibal pondered the inquiry, nodding slowly. "Yes, I think so. And if by some happenstance I'm mistaken, it will just give her and I something to discuss at her next session," he said with a wry smile. "Ms. Chamberlin strikes me as a very capable young woman. Art is her passion, and from what little I've discussed with her, she seems very knowledgeable on the subject."

Will considered what Hannibal said, and sighed. "I should probably be running this by Jack first, but what the hell. Let's see if she's familiar with the work."

Both men rose from their seats and walked to the door, Hannibal holding it open for Will to exit first. Emma looked up with care, smiling at them. "Hello gentlemen. Done so soon?"

Will and Hannibal seated themselves on either side of Emma as Will once more pulled out the photo, face down this time. "Emma, I have a favor to ask."

Emma perked up, giving Will her undivided attention. "Of course, anything I can do to help you. What do you require?"

With a slight grimace, Will said, "I work for the FBI in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. My job is to help catch killers. Today, one of them…utilized…their victim in order to create a painting of sorts. I asked Dr. Lecter if he was familiar with the piece, or if he thought it was an original piece created by the killer. Unfortunately he was unable to recognize the piece, and he mentioned you're something of an expert. Would you be willing to look at a picture of the crime scene for me and see if it rings any bells? Obviously this would remain confidential and you wouldn't be able to discuss this with anyone outside of the BAU or Dr. Lecter."

Emma's doe eyes sparkled with curiosity at the gruesome challenge, eager to test herself. "Yes, of course. I'll see if I can recognize it. You don't have to worry about me blabbing about the case; I doubt anyone would believe an FBI agent asked for assistance from me of all people." She laughed softly and held out her hand. "May I?"

Will placed the photograph in her hand, watching her face carefully as she flipped it over. Instead of a horrified expression or even one of disgust, Emma's only became more inquisitive. Her eyes roved across the photo, taking in every aspect. She frowned slightly, before her eyes lit up with recognition. "I think it's a depiction of Saint Mark from Tintoretto's piece 'Miracle of the Slave.'" She turned to Lecter. "You might recognize it by the name 'Miracle of St. Mark,' Dr. Lecter. It's housed in a gallery in Venice. Not many would recognize this piece since it isn't one of the most famous from the Renaissance, but you strike me as a bit of a Renaissance man yourself, Doctor," said Emma with a wink. She turned back to the photo, running her finger over the specific areas as she spoke. "The descent of St. Mark is quite accurately represented here, and the killer laid it out perfectly on the cliff face for shading purposes. I mean utilizing the lightest part of the rock to act as the halo? Inspired."

As she handed the photo back to Will, she noticed him staring at her, slackjawed. Alarmed, she looked up at Hannibal. "Was that not good? Did I say something wrong?"

Hannibal smiled slightly at Emma. "On the contrary, my dear, that was incredibly insightful. Will is merely impressed at the level of perception. If I recall correctly, St. Mark isn't the sole focus of the painting though."

Emma nodded her head quickly in agreement. "While the painting is a scene of St. Mark's life taken from Jacopo da Varazze's 'Golden Legend,' it depicts St. Mark intervening to make invulnerable a slave about to be martyred for his veneration of another saint's relics. So why the killer chose to just depict one fraction of the overall focus of the painting instead of it in its entirety confounds me. Do you think he ran out of materials? Or was it planned this way?"

"He had it planned." Will glanced up at his companions. "None of his 'materials' went to waste on this project. He used them all, and with care. With each kill, he'll recreate another aspect of the painting." He stood up abruptly. "I need to inform Jack. Excuse me for just a second." Will walked to the other side of the waiting room, quickly dialing Jack's number. As soon as the latter man answered, the former launched into a hurried retelling of the information he had gained from Emma.

"How's your head?" asked Hannibal, slight concern lacing his voice.

Emma scrunched her nose up as she shrugged. "It's nothing, Doctor, truly. I've been through much worse. This is the equivalent of a stubbed toe to me."

Although Hannibal had just met the girl a few days ago, he was developing a fondness of sorts for Emma; the thought of a concussed head meaning as much to her as if she had stubbed her toe irked him. Despite her mental disorders, Emma was a well-mannered, bright, sweetheart of a woman, and he found it very rude indeed that someone would physically abuse her for nothing more than inflating the man's own ego. Before he delved into a deep analysis of the slight emotion he was feeling, he brushed it away again. As he did so, Hannibal noticed Will hang up the phone and walk back over to where he and Emma were seated.

"Now that that's all taken care of, Emma, Dr. Lecter and I were wondering where exactly it is that you live in Baltimore so that we know which of us lives closer to you so that we can drop you off at home and make sure you're set for the night."

"Until I can find something nicer, I'm renting a place just south of the city, near Violetville. I can't apologize enough to you both. I should have watched where I was going, it's just so embarrassing."

"Emma, you have nothing to feel guilty about. It was my fault for opening the door so harshly and being careless. Now I'd be glad to take you home, but I live in the other direction. I do believe Dr. Lecter is closer to you than I am." He turned to Hannibal. "Would you mind terribly, Doctor?"

Hannibal stood up smartly, smoothing his suit jacket of any wrinkles. "It would be my pleasure. Emma, if you're ready?" As Emma stood shakily, Hannibal offered his arm to her. She accepted graciously, sliding her arm under his, resting her hand in the crook of his arm.

Will opened the door for the two, watching as Hannibal guided Emma to his automobile with care. Hannibal opened the passenger side door for her, helping her gently into the seat. Once she was squared away, Hannibal closed the door with a light touch. He waved goodbye to Will, who was starting up his own car, before joining Emma inside the vehicle.

Hannibal backed out of the parking lot with ease, before transitioning smoothly to driving down the deserted street. He glanced at Emma, who had closed her eyes and rested her head back against the seat. Her dusty pink lips were turned down in a slight frown, her brows furrowed. As he observed her intermittently, he noticed her frown become more pronounced and a shudder pass through her small frame.

"How are you feeling, Emma?"

With a start, Emma's eyes flashed open, focusing on the doctor. Her brow returned to the smooth, tanned skin it had been earlier in the day, and she humored him with a slight smile. "I'll be just fine, Dr. Lecter. Thank you for asking. I just need to remind myself that this head bump actually was an accident," said Emma as her smile tightened. "But let's not talk about that. You're off the clock and I'm afraid I can't afford two sessions in one day," she joked.

Hannibal chuckled, making himself a mental note to revisit the topic at a later date. "Tell me, Emma, what are your hobbies, if I may be so bold as to inquire?"

Emma smiled sheepishly. "I'm afraid my activities aren't that sensational, Doctor. I enjoy sketching when the mood strikes me, I read more books than should probably be allowed, I enjoy the occasional theatre performance, and," she dropped her voice to a stage whisper, "my guilty pleasures are crime dramas on television." She laughed freely, returning to her normal volume. "Don't judge me too harshly, Doctor. Everyone has their vices," said Emma with playful smile. "What about yourself, if you don't mind me asking? You said you enjoy looking at art, but what else do you do in your free time?"

If only you knew, Ms. Chamberlin; if only you knew. "We seem to share similar interests. The theatre and sketching are two of my pastimes. I also take great pleasure in fine wines, gourmet food, classical music, and the opera. Three of the four are present at every dinner party I host."

"So what you're saying is that you perform for your guests," said Emma good-naturedly.

Hannibal glanced at her, replying, "In a sense. Although not with opera as you were suggesting." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "The meals I prepare are in a sense a performance. Each piece plays a crucial part, and brings the entirety together. Whether it be the wine selection, the food itself, the placement of guests, or the lighting, it all is vital to the experience. Rather like brushstrokes on a painting, I should think."

Emma stared at her psychiatrist. "That was beautiful, Dr. Lecter. That was one of the most eloquently put things I have ever heard."

Hannibal smiled good naturedly at her. "The sentiment is appreciated, Emma. Speaking of dinner parties, I would like to invite you to one I am hosting this Sunday. Will and a few colleagues will also be in attendance. It's rather untoward of me to invite such a new patient to my home, but allow me the chance to entertain you in apology for your injuries at my office. I'm sure that Will would also enjoy your company; as I'm sure you observed today, he can be a little anxious around people. He seems to have taken a liking to you though."

Emma's eyes widened marginally in astonishment. "I'm honored, Doctor, thank you so much for the invitation. I would love to attend, but," she fractionally shrank back into her seat, "I'm rather in the same boat as Will regarding anxiousness. I'm afraid I would embarrass you," confided Emma. "Of course I will attend, but may I apologize in advance for the shy demeanor I'm sure I will be in possession of on that night."

"I observed your interactions with Will, and your social etiquette and skills were impeccable. You'll do just fine. Dinner will be served at 7 pm, so I suggest arriving around 6:30."

Throughout the discussion, Emma had guided Lecter to her home; just as he finished his sentence, he pulled up in front of the designated location.

Emma turned to Hannibal, smiling up gently at him. "I cannot thank you enough for everything you've done for me today, sir, including the invitation."

"Think nothing of it Emma; I look forward to seeing you on Sunday."

"See you then, Doctor, and thank you again." Emma closed the door to the vehicle and stepped up onto the curb. She gave a slight wave, turning around and walking cautiously to the staircase. As soon as she was out of sight, Hannibal put the car into gear and drove back down the road the way he came, pondering just what Ms. Chamberlin's reaction to the one and only Freddie Lounds would be.