Emma was rattled. She stood jerkily from her chair and began to pace. She ran her hand over her face, trying not to cry, and let out a shaky breath which drew Hannibal's gaze from the screen to her petrified eyes. She stopped pacing and stood stock still. A lone tear dragged itself down her flushed cheek, and was wiped away angrily and impatiently by Emma. She was ashamed that she was allowing herself to fall apart in front of Dr. Lecter when minutes before they had been carrying on wonderfully. She broke eye contact and looked upwards as she desperately fought to regain control. Hannibal righted himself and walked slowly to where she stood, and once she met his eyes again, he enveloped her in a comforting embrace. Wrapping his strong arms around her petite frame, he held her close, running a hand over her hair and cradling her head gently.
She bit her fist as she attempted to keep from staining his suit jacket with more tears. "I thought I had gotten away from this, from the death threats, from fearing for my life. I managed three whole weeks without any of this; why is it starting again now?!"
Hannibal swayed gently with her, soothing her. "It was only a matter of time before he sought you out again, Emma. Manipulative, unstable men such as he become obsessed with the people they abuse; they don't let go without a fight. The fact that this email came today after an article depicting the two of us as involved is either very telling or a bizarre coincidence."
With that, all remaining color left Emma's face. She pulled away, a look of absolute horror marring her pretty face. "Oh my god. Dr. Lecter, you can't be my psychiatrist anymore. I can't have you put in danger by associating with me. You've been so kind to me, and I adore our blossoming friendship more than you know, but I can't put you at risk like that. Maybe if you cut all ties with me, he'll leave you alone and just go after me."
Darkness rolled over Hannibal's face, collecting in the depths of his maroon eyes. He pulled her back to him, flexing his arms around her protectively. "There will be no need of that, Ms. Chamberlin, I assure you. You will require someone to assist you in this trying time, and I do not abandon patients; but I especially do not abandon friends."
She turned her head slightly, gazing at him from underneath thick eyelashes, observing the firmness in his expression and the quiet rage in his eyes, before laying her head against his formidable chest. "Thank you, Dr. Lecter."
He looked down at her, the left corner of his mouth turning up into some semblance of a smile. "I do believe you have very much earned the right to address me as Hannibal, Emma. Now, let me fix you something for lunch. We can take my car."
Emma took a moment to gather herself before she took a step back out of Hannibal's embrace. Her mouth pulled up into a watery smile, her left hand ghosting over his arm in thanks as she walked past to grab her purse. She wiped away another stray tear before it had the chance to leave her eye completely, and strode back over to Hannibal. He extended his arm to her, indicating she should thread hers through the opening and rest her hand in the crook of his arm; she did so, and they proceeded down the hallway.
As he led her through the museum's marbled rotunda, she heard vague whispers winding through the air, jumbling together and forming a tornado of gossip. She held her head high, walking confidently alongside Hannibal, meeting his concerned gaze with an unbothered one of her own. He felt a surge of pride; moments ago she had been a frightened wreck, and now, in the face of snide remarks and cruel whispers, she held herself with the bearing of a duchess. The selflessness of her nature struck him once again, and he found that nagging emotion that was becoming his constant companion mounting in strength.
He opened the glass door for her before stepping out behind her, proceeding down the concrete steps to the parking lot. He popped open the passenger side door, helped Emma in, and snapped it shut behind her before heading around to the driver's side door.
The luxurious vehicle started smoothly with a swift turn of the glistening key and a thrumming purr that resounded throughout the lush leather interior. Fifteen minutes later, the two were striding up to Hannibal's front door, entering, and working their way down the hall to his spacious kitchen.
He gestured that she seat herself in the chair in the corner while he removed his black suit jacket, tied an apron around his firm waist, and gathered his ingredients to make their lunch. She acquiesced, setting her purse down beside her, crossing her lean legs, and leaning forward to rest her forearms on the right arm of the chair.
"I would offer to assist you, but I wouldn't dare dream of imposing on a man in his element," said Emma with a good-natured smirk.
The corner of his mouth turning up, Hannibal looked up at her as he chopped a wide variety of fruits into bite-sized chunks. "I find cooking to be a relaxing hobby. I also prefer to know what is entering my body and of what quality. I'm rather selective." He smiled affably at her.
She grinned at him, adjusting the edge of her dress. "You do strike me as the type to take pride in all you do, whether that is psychiatry, cooking, or consulting the FBI."
"That is a sound analysis, Ms. Chamberlin. I take care that everything I surround myself with and do myself are of the highest caliber. One should take pride in their abilities and livelihood, should they not?" he asked as he carved up slices of "chicken" to sear.
"Indeed they should. Just remind me to never invite you over for what I consider dinner," she laughed.
Hannibal proceeded to cook the "chicken" to a nice golden brown before removing it from the skillet and placing it on a ceramic plate. Pulling out two china plates, he dished the chicken equally onto the plates, arranging it artistically with the fruit he had chopped up before. He added a mixture of greens under both, and topped it off with a light drizzle of vinaigrette.
He gestured for Emma to follow him into the dining room, where he placed the dishes before going back in and retrieving silverware and two wine glasses. Grabbing a nice bottle of white wine that would pair beautifully with the dish, Hannibal uncorked it and poured a small amount into the waiting glasses.
He helped Emma into her chair before settling himself into the seat next to her. Thanking him, she took a bite of the meal. "Dr. Lecter, if I didn't know better I'd fancy you magical; this is exquisite!"
"Thank you, Emma; I'm glad you're enjoying it. I also believe we are on a first name basis now," he chided gently.
Blushing a soft pink, Emma skewered a strawberry, piece of spinach, and bite of chicken. "Of course, my apologies. It will definitely take some getting accustomed to." She popped the forkful into her mouth, savoring the blending of flavors across her tongue. "I meant to ask, how is the case coming?"
Right as Hannibal opened his mouth to reply, his cell phone rang merrily. He retrieved it from his pants pocket, glancing at the caller ID. He turned to Emma, gesturing to the phone. "It's Will; do you mind terribly?"
"Not at all! I'll just excuse myself while you take the call." She made to get up, but Hannibal shook his head, motioning for her to stay as he answered Will's phone call.
"Hello, Will."
Emma proceeded to take a sip of her wine, discreetly watching Hannibal's face as he listened intently to what Will had to say. "I'm currently entertaining, but I can make it there in 40 minutes." He frowned slightly, eyebrows furrowing. "Yes, she's here with me as we speak."
A barely raised eyebrow. "I made a stop at the museum to explain to her the article and Ms. Lounds' knack for spreading gossip and libelous articles. By the time we were finished at the museum, it was lunch time so I invited Ms. Chamberlin to my home. Did you need to speak with her?"
A quizzical look flashed across Hannibal's face at whatever Will had to say. "Where?"
"Yes, we can be there in a half hour. I'll cancel my next appointment; Franklin isn't a critical case and saw me two days ago as it is. I'll give you a call when we're on our way."
Hannibal snapped his phone shut, studying Emma with a measure of curious apprehension burning in his maroon eyes. "Emma, how would you feel about visiting a crime scene? The killer left another display, and Will would like your point of view as well."
Emma's eyes darted up, locking on his. "He wants me there? He's sure?"
Hannibal's eyes softened as he kindly said, "Emma, you're a brilliant scholar in this regard. You can offer unparalleled insight. I'll be there as well to assist, so you shall have both Will and myself there to accompany you."
Emma took a sip of her wine, placing the glass down carefully as she said, "I would like to assist in any way I can. Ms. Lounds won't be there, will she?"
Another raised eyebrow. "It's hard to say; Ms. Lounds seems to have a knack for finding the crime scenes we are occupying. Are you worried about a confrontation?"
Emma laughed darkly. "That's the classy way of phrasing it. I was going to say something more along the lines of, 'I'm worried I might punch her in her face.'"
Hannibal picked up his wine glass, smirking discreetly. "I believe Will shares the sentiment. If she does happen to be in attendance, I shall do my best to engage you in the analysis. Does that sound agreeable?"
Emma flashed a smile, nodding her head. "That would be much appreciated, thank you. I would hate to be an embarrassment to both you and Will; I also would rather detest having this be both the first and last time I am invited to aid the FBI at a crime scene."
"I can empathize with the situation entirely. Now, let's finish up our meal and we can head over to the most recent kill."
Ten minutes later, both plates were empty and placed in the sink to be taken care of later. Hannibal grabbed a coat, held the front door open for Emma, and proceeded to the car. He repeated his earlier actions of helping her with her door before seating himself, starting the car, and beginning the drive to an area just on the outskirts of Baltimore.
Twenty minutes later, they pulled off a dirt road and parked in a makeshift lot. Emergency vehicles, several police cars, and two vans were parked haphazardly around the large area that was taped off in large yellow bands designating it a crime scene. Emma opened the door, taking in her surroundings with awe. Lights flashed red and blue, hypnotizing her. She wandered forward, stopping at the tape.
So lost in thought was she that the firm tap on her shoulder made her jump. "Yes?"
A gruff-looking policeman scowled at her. "I said, do you have permission to be here?"
"She is assisting Will Graham. He called and asked for us both," Hannibal said as he walked up behind her.
The man sighed. "Just a minute."
As he headed over to where Will stood talking to Jack Crawford, Emma turned to face Hannibal. "Thank you. I got so caught up in the environment I seemed to completely tune him out."
Hannibal smiled. "It's natural to prioritize stimuli in such an atmosphere. I myself had a similar experience my first time. Think nothing of it."
She smiled warmly up at him, noticing once again how drastically tall he was now that they were in such close proximity. She heard footsteps approaching, so she wheeled around to face the incomer. Will was making his way to them, giving a sort of terse smile to Emma and a nod to Hannibal. "Come with me. You'll want to prepare yourselves; especially you, Emma."
With each step, Emma steeled her resolve. The trio wove their way round a flurry of police and FBI agents alike, before they finally reached the clearing. That was when Emma got her first look at the kind of grisly artwork she was to be examining. The first thing she noticed was how drastically different the surface the killer had used was from the cliff-side. This time, the lush field speckled with crisp wildflowers served as a canvas, and Emma was struck by the contrast it created. The soft grass against the bloody heap was something to marvel. As Emma approached, everything moved in slow-motion.
Two agents passed by her at what seemed like a snail's pace; the lights in her peripherals slowed exponentially. After what seemed like years, she finally stood before the makeshift artwork. She cocked her head, observing the "piece" curiously. The style on this one was different, but exactly how was slipping just out of her grasp.
Then it hit her: emotion. Everything about this piece screamed tenderness and care. While the other piece had possessed similar levels of time and energy, this one just had something more. There was a type of reverence in this that was absent from the other. Everything, from the field he had utilized as a canvas to the pristine lines he had cut in the flesh, sold her on the fact that this piece of the painting he emulated resonated importance with him, but so did the victim. The woman had held some sort of significance to him in life, so he had made sure to use her for the most crucial portion of his masterpiece in death.
She turned to Will and voiced exactly this. Will nodded grimly, assuring her that he had reached the same conclusions. "She was the subject of romantic idealization; most likely not returned, but he coveted her. He gave her the ultimate pedestal in using her flesh to complete his design."
Hannibal crouched down next to the body, taking a closer look. "Not only was she coveted, she was cherished. There is a deep, unnecessary slice in the middle of this piece of flesh, most likely where he slit her throat. He made sure to limit her suffering and give her as painless a death as he could without tampering too heavily with his materials."
That was around the time that a realization hit Emma: the hair and skin color of the victim's matched her own. She thought hard, and it dawned on her that the other victim had similarities as well, although not quite as many. It unnerved her. Trying to shake it off, she glanced around the "artwork" and found a large, red spot a few steps away from where she stood. Walking over, she took a closer look. On the ground, blood had been poured into the shape of a heart. Inside, rested E.C. in a congealed, burgundy calligraphy. At that moment, Emma's mind went blank. She stood and walked sluggishly back over to Hannibal, standing closer than normal in hopes that his body heat might chase away the chill she was just drenched in.
He glanced down at her, immediately noticing that she was shaking. Without a second thought, Hannibal shrugged out of his black wool coat and draped it over her hunched shoulders. As the warmth and musk enveloped her in safety, she let out a deep, shaky breath. Concern grew in Hannibal's eyes. "Emma, are you alright?"
She shook her head back and forth slowly, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the tag. Will had observed them with worry and confusion, and he and Hannibal walked to where she had indicated.
Will turned to Hannibal, a fevered light brightening his eyes and disgust shaping his mouth. "Initials. He's addressing the work to someone. That's what this is; a love letter."
That's when everything clicked into place for Hannibal; the initials, the appearances of the women, the story the killer was telling with his murders, and the care with which the recreations were made was all to show an undying, possessive craving for Ms. Emma Chamberlin. Hannibal's eyes darted to a shock-stricken Emma, clutching at his coat like a life vest. Hannibal returned his focus to Will, meeting his eyes, and in that moment they both moved swiftly and urgently toward Emma.
They took a place on either side of her, simultaneously placing a guiding hand on her back to lead her away from the carefully constructed mass of flesh. Once again meeting Hannibal's eyes over the top of Emma's brunette head, he inclined his head in the direction of Jack Crawford. Hannibal nodded once sharply, and the two led Emma over to the agent.
They stopped a few feet away, Will approaching Jack to explain to him the monumental breakthrough they had while Hannibal placed himself in front of Emma, placing both hands on her shoulders and ducking his head to try and catch her eye. "Emma. Emma. Look at me, Emma."
Emma slowly raised her head, dazed eyes locking onto his searching ones. "Yes, Hannibal?"
Despite the dire situation, a small warmth lit Hannibal's maroon eyes at the sound of his name flowing from her soft lips. It dimmed as he noticed she was working on autopilot; she was receptive to stimuli on a very shallow level, and he realized that she was close to slipping entirely into the dark, swirling mass of despair that were the memories of her past relationship that seemed to constantly plague her mind. If he didn't act quickly and infuse her with a dominating emotion, she would slip completely into shock.
Scouring the area, he saw a vibrant mass of tightly coiled red hair peaking around one of the trees near the FBI's vehicles, followed by a rapid succession of clicks from the camera held in her pale hands. While he had told Emma that he would make sure she was kept away from Freddie Lounds, this was the most practical choice to illicit a strong reaction from Emma. It was either that or kiss her, and although he was painfully inquisitive as to how she would react to such an advance, now was neither the time nor the place to indulge such curiosities.
"Emma, I'm sorry to say that Ms. Lounds is here, snapping new photos of not only the crime scene, but of us as well. I'm afraid my coat around your shoulders will once again be construed the wrong way." He watched her eyes carefully, pleased when he noticed them brighten with indignation.
"What? Why does she feel the compulsion to twist every kind, gentlemanly gesture into something indecent?!" With that statement, fire burned in Emma's usually soft, warm eyes, and she threw off Hannibal's coat. Handing it to him, she gave him a malicious smile and started marching over to where Freddie stood, resetting her camera.
Hannibal followed behind her at a leisurely pace, coat draped over his forearm; he had no intention of interfering, but wanted to be within distance to assist should Emma require it. If his assessment of her was correct, Emma would be able to hold her own in both verbal and physical altercations. He planned to intervene should things escalate between the women to physical violence, but only because he knew what the perverse Ms. Lounds would do with such material. It simply would not do have Emma behind bars for assault and battery or in such a position where her reputation was smeared with violence and she was laid off from her post at the museum. He rather liked her in charge of the exhibits, as she appealed to his cultural tastes with no effort on her part. With a hint of a smile, Hannibal refocused his attentions on the scene in front of him.
Emma had reached where Freddie Lounds stood, and cleared her throat. Freddie whirled around, a smirk pulling at her deceivingly innocent features. "Well, if it isn't Emma Chamberlin. Did you like my article this morning? I thought I captured quite accurately the interactions between you and Dr. Lecter."
Emma stiffened and glared at the redhead; this woman made her stomach turn. "Ms. Lounds, your article was one fallacy after another. I'd appreciate a retraction, if only for the sake of Dr. Lecter's reputation. You can't seriously think that he would choose to associate himself romantically with a patient," Emma said incredulously.
"I saw what I saw, Emma, and what I witnessed today is even more proof. I mean come on; lingering touches, his coat around your shoulders, you standing just a little too close to him? It screams sexual intimacy," said Freddie with a sly smirk, eyes sparkling with cunning.
Emma clenched her fists, taking a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Her eyes raged with indignation at the insinuation. "I don't believe I gave you the liberty to address me by my first name, Ms. Lounds. Dr. Lecter has been nothing but an outstanding psychiatrist and supportive friend to me over these last few weeks. He would never jeopardize his reputation and career over something as silly as a sexual relationship with me. You know as well as I that he could take his choice among the women that find him attractive, which I'm sure is a very high number indeed. I don't give a damn what you write about me, but think twice before you try and leave a black mark on the reputations of my friends."
Freddie flipped her hair behind her shoulder, smiling condescendingly at Emma. "I'm sorry, but I really just don't have it in me to take you seriously, dear. I'll continue publishing what I like. Freedom of the press is a beautiful thing," Freddie expressed with a sigh of happiness.
Emma could feel it; her control was slipping. Fibers were fraying from the grasp she held onto in her mind, and before she knew it she held on to just enough that she could stop herself from assaulting the woman in front of her. She was vibrating with rage. In a clipped tone, Emma said, "Listen here you two-bit, sleazy, incompetent reporter. If I see so much as an insinuation of Dr. Lecter's name in one of the pieces of trash you call an article, you'll be very sorry indeed. I doubt anyone even deigns to bother with the garbage you call journalism, but if you do print his name again, I'll find my way to whatever squalid motel you're hiding out in and beat the sentiment into that frizz-framed head of yours. Do you understand?"
Hannibal, who had heard the entire conversation, raised his eyebrows in surprise. The venom that spewed from Emma's mouth was a wonder in and of itself. She leant a sort of artistic element to her verbal attacks, and Hannibal found it to be beautiful. Her words were sharp and precise, slashing at the victim's essence much like his knives slice at their flesh. She was in her element, and the sight of her was a wonder to behold. With the slight breeze fanning out her dark waves into a fitting frame, her red-painted mouth curled up into a snarl, and dark eyes flashing with danger and rage, she looked very much the part of the vengeful goddess coming to earth to exact revenge on those who had wronged her. It was arousing.
Determining that Emma's self-control was completely taxed, he decided to step in and halt the inevitable blows that were to begin. "Ms. Lounds, I do believe it would be in your best interest to leave the premises before Ms. Chamberlin loses her very admirable self-control. And while I'm sure that this would add a very nice spice to the article you are planning out in your head, may I suggest that it would be wise of you to cease and desist."
With a radiant smile to Dr. Lecter and Emma, Freddie Lounds left. She had what she came for, and so much more. As she walked off, Emma closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm and center herself before conversing with Hannibal. He waited patiently, checking his watch as he did so. A few seconds later, Emma turned to face him with a disappointed look on her face. "So much for all of my progress." She blew a stray piece of hair out of her eyes, smiling sheepishly up at Hannibal. "I hope your opinion of me hasn't changed too drastically by what you just witnessed. I guess I should be grateful that you saw that side of me in action; as my therapist, it gives you an insight you normally wouldn't be privy to, and as my friend, you can see what I'm, unfortunately, capable of. I guess I should be grateful you only saw the verbal assault and not the manipulation I'm talented at. That would have very much encouraged you to have our relationship be purely professional I should think," she said with a self-deprecating laugh.
Hannibal gave her a rare genuine smile, eyes filled with warmth as he looked upon her still flushed face. "On the contrary, Emma, I think it held a sort of beauty." Emma's eyes darted up to his, wide in astonishment.
"Really?"
"Truly."
She blushed at the praise, a glowing smile lighting up her features. She opened her mouth, searching for words, before closing it again softly. She settled for conveying her gratitude with her eyes.
"Come; let's go see if Will currently has any more use of us. If not, I'll take you back to the museum." They walked side by side over to where Will stood relaying information to who, if Emma were to hazard a guess, was one of the forensics team.
"Will." Will spun to face Hannibal, eyes creasing with concern as he glanced at Emma.
"We were wondering if you still needed us here or if we were free to go? It's nearly 2:30."
"Actually, I need Ms. Chamberlin to come with me. I need to ask her a few questions." Jack had approached silently behind them, answering Hannibal's question for Will. Will grimaced, Emma blanched, and Hannibal cocked his head at the agent's statement.
"Right this minute?" Emma asked timidly.
Jack's hard gaze softened minutely at her tone. "Yes, I'm afraid so. The sooner we have some answers, the sooner we can solve this case."
Emma processed what he said, nodding her head slowly. She looked up at Hannibal and Will, smiling bravely. "Well, looks like I'll see you two later on. I've got a date with the BAU."
Hannibal took a step forward. "Perhaps I should accompany you."
She smiled warmly up at him. "I couldn't possibly keep you from your patients; you already had to cancel on one as it is! If you were to cancel more just because of me, the public might start to put some faith into Ms. Lounds' libelous writings. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the offer."
Hannibal considered her thoughtfully, scanning his eyes over hers and reading the trepidation and the craving of protection that lie buried in their chocolate depths. He came to the conclusion that a compromise would have to suffice. "Alright, Emma, but please do come by my office afterwards; I usually remain there until 7."
Emma nodded, flashed a brief, weaker smile, and faced Jack again. "Let's get this show on the road, then, Agent Crawford!"
Jack escorted Emma to one of the FBI's vehicles, helped her inside, and snapped the door shut behind her before climbing into the passenger side. Seconds later, they were headed toward FBI headquarters in Quantico.