Emma stretched; she had been sitting in the unforgiving, cold metal chair for two hours now. Her back ached, and she was emotionally exhausted. When she had arrived, she had thought that she would merely give a brief explanation of how the crime scene involved her; that was not the case. Jack Crawford had demanded every minute detail. Some of his questions she didn't even have answers for. All she wanted was to go home, crawl into bed, and forget that today had ever happened.

That wasn't quite true, though, she thought to herself. The parts of her day spent with Hannibal had been wonderfully pleasant. Despite the rough way her morning had started and the crime scene fiasco, she decided that this had been the best day she'd had in years. As she waited for Jack to return from placing his phone call, she pondered Dr. Lecter. She admitted that he was devilishly charming, cultured, and a Greek god among men. His mind was unparalleled, and he saw the world in a way that fascinated her. He could see right through her in mere seconds whereas people she had known her entire life still couldn't see past the protective wall she hid behind. Despite all of these attractive qualities, they weren't the paramount reason she found herself drawn to him. He exuded a sort of danger, like a panther that lie up on a vine-infused limb; ready to strike at any time if he fancied, or if provoked. This excited her, and lit her curiosity aflame. She wanted to find out what made him tick, what his beliefs were, what he felt his place was in this world. But most importantly, she wanted to be close to him.

The more she thought, the more she realized she might be playing with fire; if she got too close to this man, he could burn her. The question that plagued her though, was would he? For some unfathomable reason, she believed he wouldn't. He'd lend her his warmth, protect her from predators, and keep her safe. But not burn her, never burn her.

Just as she came to this conclusion, the door banged open, causing her to jump. Jack strolled back into the interrogation room, seating himself once again across from her. She carefully rubbed her tired eyes, making sure not to smudge her makeup. "How much longer are you going to keep me here, Agent Crawford? There truly isn't much more to tell you."

Jack frowned as he scrutinized her, pulling a piece of paper from his breast pocket. "Just a while longer, Emma, then we can take you back to the museum to retrieve your car. But before we can do that, I need you to answer just a few more questions. Now you told me you left St. Louis because of this man, and you said he was abusive to you. Explain."

Emma cringed at the question, not wanting to delve into her past without someone there skilled enough to re-center her afterwards. "Would you mind terribly if I came back in tomorrow to answer those questions? My past is a dark one, and while I gave you enough information about Sean to run on, I'd much rather have Dr. Lecter here when I go into Sean's and my joint past. I haven't even gotten into that stuff with Dr. Lecter yet because it's so hard for me to not slip back into mentally dangerous habits when I let down the barricade I've built around those memories."

Jack sighed. "I'd honestly prefer getting these answers today, Emma. Without this knowledge, I can have no idea as to if you're telling me the truth and not just making up this Sean character. I mean face it; you're new to the area, you have unequivocal knowledge about the artwork that was recreated, and your insights into the motive are startlingly accurate. It could easily be you committing these murders."

Emma's eyes widened in alarm. "You don't actually believe that I killed those people, do you?!"

Jack scrutinized her for what seemed like an eternity before he replied carefully. "No, I don't. But I have to look at this from every angle, and it wouldn't be that much of a stretch. However, Will is under the impression that this last murder was a love letter to you, so I'm going to go off of his hunches at the present time. I just can't be left with more questions than answers from you."

Emma looked pleadingly at Jack. "Please Agent Crawford, just let me come back first thing tomorrow and I'll answer any questions you have. Dr. Lecter will be there to guide me through it mentally, and you'll have more information than you'll know what to do with. I've worked long and hard on training myself to think in a healthy way, and to walk in blindly tearing down those walls would be detrimental. I need a professional to assist me in breaking them down and building them back up afterwards."

Jack stood up sharply, gesturing impatiently to the door to his left. "Fine," he snapped. "Come back at 9 am with Hannibal and we'll try again."

Emma stood up breathing a sigh of relief, only to grimace at the soreness in her lower back. She hobbled to the door held open by Jack, her back loosening enough to stand straight as she did so. He led her down to the front doors.

"Agent!" he barked at a random fellow in FBI gear. "Take Ms. Chamberlin back to Baltimore's museum to pick up her car."

"Yes sir!" The agent led Emma to one of the vans, and soon they were on their way to Baltimore.

Some time later, the two pulled up in front of the museum. Emma hurried out of the car, and as soon as the door snapped shut behind her, the agent veered off. With a scoff, Emma made her way to her own vehicle, started it up, and got onto the main road. She sighed, realizing she promised Hannibal she would stop by his office before she headed home. She glanced at the clock in her car; it was 6:30. She had just enough time to catch him before he left for the day.

Ten minutes later, Emma pulled up outside of his office. She parked, hopped out, and walked up to the wooden door. Opening it slowly, she stepped inside and peered around. Spotting a sliver of light from underneath his office door, she walked confidently up to it and knocked softly. She heard the sound of a chair being pulled back, followed by gentle footsteps growing nearer.

Placing a weary grin on her face in anticipation, the door opened suddenly to reveal the ever-handsome Dr. Lecter. The curiosity at who was visiting at this hour faded, only to be replaced by a pleased warmth and a kind smile. "Emma, what a pleasure. Do come in." He stood back, gesturing for her to sit in her usual chair.

She smiled thankfully at him as she entered, lingering just slightly as she passed, long enough to be enveloped once again by his smell and warmth. She continued on, seating herself as he went to the cabinet in order to fetch a bottle of wine.

"Red or white?"

She glanced up, seeing Hannibal presenting two different vintage bottles in her direction. Her eyes brightened as she contemplated how welcome a drink would be after the tumultuous day.

"Red I think. Thank you so much. It's been a trying day to say the least."

He smiled indulgently at her as he filled her glass more than he usually would. "In that case, I think I'll leave the bottle close at hand."

Emma laughed, accepting the glass she was offered with another thanks. "That might be the most welcome thing I've heard this evening."

Hannibal seated himself across from her, taking a sip from his own glass. "How did the questioning go?"

Emma grimaced at the thought, taking another long pull from her glass. "It was a disaster, quite frankly. No matter how much information I gave Agent Crawford, it wasn't enough. He was very aggressive about me delving into my past with Sean." She shuddered.

Hannibal frowned slightly at the thought. "Did you confide in him about your past?"

Emma shook her head. "No, I refused to indulge him. I explained the lengths I went to in order to think in a constructive, healthy way and how damaging pulling down such walls would be without the proper guidance. Plus, I felt it would be a betrayal to you since I hadn't even gotten into that with you yet. He was frustrated at my refusal to say the least."

Hannibal nodded thoughtfully. "That was an intelligent decision. While Jack is very dedicated to catching the killers he pursues so vigilantly, he sometimes forgets the importance of one's mental health. I take it he'll be wanting me in attendance when he interviews you again?"

"Yes, at 9 am tomorrow. If I'm being frank, I'm a little tentative to dive into such things with him. I hate discussing the topic in the first place, and while confiding to you wouldn't bother me, discussing it in such a manner for it to be relayed to numerous individuals is a bit unnerving. I don't want people to think of me as weak." She made a face at the thought.

Hannibal placed his wine glass on the table next to him, leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees and hands clasped between them. "Emma, no one will think any less of you for what you've been through. Every individual goes through traumatic events, and you will have me there to act as a buffer. If Jack pushes too hard or presses too quickly, I shall intervene. You will be in a safe zone in which to confide those tales. Do you understand?"

Emma nodded slowly, meeting Hannibal's eyes with a warm smile. "Thank you, Hannibal. Truly. I know that you understand what a tumultuous place my mind is, what with having so many disorders wreaking havoc in there, and you won't let me backtrack. I'll feel much more at ease with you there guiding the questioning."

The corners of his mouth pulled up as he leaned back into his plush chair and retrieved his half-full wine glass. "It's my pleasure. I appreciate the fact that not only do you trust me to be there, but that you refused to answer that line of questioning until I was present. I find it heartening that you not only are you so passionate about your mental health, but that you feel a sense of loyalty to me. Some patients have seen me for years and only confide the minimum, whereas you've known me for merely a month and have a stronger sense of security with me than they perhaps ever will feel."

Emma flushed a light pink, disguising it by taking another long drink from the glass she held. She turned her focus back to the stately gentleman that sat across from her and shrugged, smiling gently. "You make me feel safe. "

Hannibal took another sip of wine as he took a few seconds to mull over her statement. A portion of him rejoiced at such a declaration; he was growing quite attached to and fond of Emma quite quickly, and the thought of having the ability to make her feel protected gave him a sort of joy. However, another part of him wondered how she would react if she found out who exactly he is and what he is capable of. Deciding that the latter was inconsequential to worry over since she would never find out without him deeming it advantageous, he turned his focus wholly back on the curvy brunette in front of him.

"I'm flattered that my presence is one of comfort to you, Emma. That gratifies me greatly. You are becoming quite a dear friend to me indeed."

As she finished off her glass of wine, Hannibal reached over with the bottle to pour some more into her glass. "Thank you. You're becoming a fast friend of mine as well." A somber look spread over her pretty face. "Hannibal, I must warn you. There are going to be some questions that Jack asks that will trigger frighteningly emotional responses and horrific answers from me. I want you to completely ignore whatever reactions I have, and leave the horrid details in that interrogation room; push me through and don't take no for an answer. If you press me, I'll tell you, but don't let Jack do the majority of the prodding. I don't trust him the way I do you, and I might shut down. Each answer I give will bring them one step closer to capturing him, and taking a multitude of people, including myself, out of harm's way, so I need you to be tough on me if necessary."

Hannibal listened carefully, frowning slightly at the urgency in her melodic voice. His mind flickered with possibilities of what revulsions she might confide in the men, each one more disturbing than the last. While he himself was far from pure with his systematic elimination of the rude and impeding, the thought of what could have possibly occurred to Emma at the hands of another struck him with not only a sense of morbid curiosity but budding antagonism as well. He hoped for this man's sake that his transgressions against Emma weren't as colorfully unspeakable as Hannibal's mind painted them.

"I will make sure to take the appropriate steps. Try to clear it from your head for now; there will be plenty of time to consider such matters in the morning."

The corner of Emma's mouth turned up half-heartedly. "Very true. Anyway, how was your day? Not as off-putting as mine was, I hope?"

Hannibal chuckled at her extreme downplay of the events of that day. "My day was rather uneventful compared to yours, I assure you. Your encounter with Freddie Lounds was the most prominent occurrence of the day. Also the most entertaining, if I'm perfectly honest."

Emma made a face at the name. "Ugh, she's the absolute worst. I'm glad you stepped in when you did, because I was about to smack the sass right out of her. If she writes another article like that, I can't be held responsible for the inevitable murder I'll commit," she joked darkly.

Smirking, Hannibal said, "Don't worry, if that's the case I'll most certainly help you dispose of the body."

Emma's laugh chimed through the room, a pleasant sound to Hannibal's finely tuned ears. "We'll have to do something creative with her then," she mused. Suddenly, she shook her head violently to clear away such thoughts. "Okay, okay, I'm going to stop my thought processes right there before they turn more macabre than they already are."

Hannibal shook his head with a smirk, taking another sip of wine. Suddenly, there was a knock on the office door. Cocking his head to the side, he looked toward the door curiously. He stood gracefully, striding confidently toward the wooden door. Swinging it open halfway, the attractive face of Alana Bloom peered up at him. "Alana, I wasn't expecting you. What can I do for you?"

"Are you busy? I was hoping to discuss what happened at the FBI with you since you weren't able to be there. I also wouldn't say no to a beer," said Alana, smirking up at him.

Hannibal opened the door wider to reveal where Emma was seated. "Ms. Chamberlin and I were just discussing the events of the day. Please, feel free to join us."

Alana's eyes widened infinitesimally; she hadn't expected Emma to be with Hannibal this late in the evening. With her brow slightly furrowed, she proceeded into the room, taking a seat on the chaise lounge. "Hello, Emma. How are you feeling?"

Emma acknowledged Alana with a slight wave as she took a sip of wine, before replying, "Hi, Dr. Bloom. I'm well, thank you for asking. And yourself?"

"I'm just fine," said Alana with a ghost of a smile. "You can call me Alana, you know. Formalities are tiresome, especially since I'm not your therapist."

"Nope, Hannibal's stuck with that unfortunate position," Emma said with a grin.

Alana raised her well-groomed eyebrows at Hannibal discreetly, questioning Emma's use of his first name. Only yesterday she had been referring to him as Dr. Lecter. Hannibal gave her a look that resonated a "not now" mentality as he handed her a Pilsner glass filled to the brim with a foam-topped beer. "Thanks, Hannibal. It's been a long day."

With a good-natured smile, he seated himself once more. "That does seem to be the consensus."

A rather awkward silence followed as the two women took pulls from their respective glasses, Hannibal observing them subtly. Alana cleared her throat. "So, Hannibal, Jack mentioned something about you stopping by the FBI headquarters tomorrow morning? Does Will need your help?"

Hannibal crossed his legs and leaned back, turning to face Alana. "No, Jack requested my presence for the last half of his interrogation of Emma. She refused to answer a good portion of his questions without my attendance. We're due at Quantico at 9 am."

Alana frowned, concern lighting her pale features as she turned to face Emma. "What line of questioning did he want to pursue that made you uncomfortable without Hannibal's presence?"

Emma shifted uncomfortably, glancing up at Hannibal who had busied himself with pouring more wine into his own glass. He was curious as to how she would respond to Emma's prodding, so he pretended not to notice Emma's discomfort.

"Uh well he wanted to dive into some things about my past with the killer that I wasn't prepared to delve into without the aid of Hannibal." She met Alana's gaze with a resilient one of her own. "I have worked very hard on beating my disorders, and it seemed rather reckless of me to just go tearing down the structures I'd worked so long and hard to make in there all willy-nilly. I wanted to wait until a professional could guide me through the process and who better for that than my own psychiatrist." Emma glanced up and met Hannibal's eyes briefly, just long enough to convey that she didn't want to show any weakness in front of Alana and for him to not take it personally that she didn't mention their budding attachment. He inclined his head fractionally to her in understanding; Emma's intelligence regarding interactions was a rarity indeed. Most people would have confided to some degree in Alana regarding their trust in Hannibal, even the friendship they were developing. Emma, on the other hand, kept her cards close to her chest and refused to give away any potentially compromising information. Not only did she decline to divulge any material that could theoretically be used against her later on, in that statement she established the nature of her relationship with Hannibal as exclusively professional so that that as well could not be used against either of them. She protected them both completely, albeit unnecessarily, and Hannibal was certain quite unintentionally. He was utterly positive that she was unaware of this defense mechanism, and he couldn't help but muse over the fact that this ability of hers would be an asset to him indeed should they become exceptionally close.

Alana was completely unaware of the exchange between Hannibal and Emma that had just taken place, and said, "That's a wise choice. There are few who would think to consult their psychiatrist before complying with the FBI's wishes."

Emma shrugged. "With the disorders I have and the time it's taken me to reach this point, I'm not eager to have a relapse."

Alana tilted her head, intrigued. "If you don't mind me asking, what exactly were the disorders you diagnosed with?"

Emma sighed quietly, shifting in her seat and cradling her glass to her chest. "I was diagnosed with Bipolar-II, Borderline Personality Disorder, and an anxiety order. That's the gist of it."

Alana's eyes widened in surprise, a slight frown pulling at her dainty mouth. "No wonder you were hesitant to just go poking around in there. How long have you had the diagnoses?"

"I've been in treatment for three years now, and I've hated almost every minute of it," Emma laughed quietly. "Luckily Hannibal didn't mind taking on someone like me as a patient. Not many are willing to even consider me after they find out the combination of disorders I have."

Alana nodded understandingly, her eyes glistening with sympathy. "Borderlines are quite a challenge to treat. Changing how someone perceives the world is an enormous task, and virtually impossible if the person isn't completely invested in bettering himself or herself. I've never known Hannibal to back away from a challenge, though," Alana smirked and winked at him coyly.

Hannibal smiled indulgently at Alana as Emma looked on. The more she watched their interactions, the more she wondered if there was either a past there or perhaps a future. There was no denying the two had chemistry, and coupled with Alana's coquettish behavior and Hannibal's seeming receptiveness to it, she couldn't help but think that the two were on a fast track to dating. What Emma couldn't explain, however, was why that realization left a swirling knot of emotion in the pit of her stomach.

She cleared her throat and set her wine glass down, pulling herself from the comfort the leather chair offered her. "I think I'll head home now and allow you two to talk. It's getting late and I have to be up way too early tomorrow. It was a pleasure seeing you again, Alana. Thank you again for everything Hannibal; I'll see you in the morning." She flashed him a semblance of a grin and walked to the door.

He stood quickly, striding rapidly to the door to hold it open for her. The suddenness of her departure struck him as odd; his mind sorted through possible answers swiftly, knowing that the true answer didn't lie in the time of day but in something else entirely. Then it struck him: was Emma feeling jealousy? He cocked his head as he opened the door for her, studying her downturned gaze and subdued expression. He touched her wrist lightly, enough to get her attention but not obvious enough for Alana to see. "Is everything alright?"

Chocolate met maroon as she turned her eyes up to meet his. Forcing a bright smile across her face, she replied, "Yes, of course Hannibal. I was just trying to be considerate; you've been stuck with me practically all day, and I thought you'd appreciate the chance to converse with Alana alone. Plus I really am exhausted. Agent Crawford definitely knows how to drain those he interrogates."

Scanning her eyes, he nodded slowly. The deeper he looked, the more he saw what lie there; he knew that she held an attraction to him (many did), but this was something more. Her eyes screamed romantic interest, despite the fact that she denied such things, coupled with frustration at herself and resolve to not disclose the truth to anyone, let alone him. He doubted she was consciously aware of it in its entirety, and confusion along with jealousy was the true reason she chose to leave his office. That was it. She thought that he held a romantic interest in Alana, and was bowing out rather gracefully. This will not do, he thought to himself.

He decided more thought was necessary on his end before he decided on a course of action. While he knew that he was fascinated by Emma and her intelligence, as well as found her to be a stunning beauty, he needed to analyze all aspects. His existence was a complicated one, and adding a romantic interest into the mix would create even more chaos. He resolved to ponder matters over later that night.

So he let her go. He stood just a little too close to her and smiled softly. "Goodnight, then, Emma. I'll see you at Quantico at 9 o'clock."

It took Emma a moment to process the dismissal as the pairing of his towering figure and mesmerizing smell overwhelmed her. She shook herself mentally and smiled up at him, red lips arching into a beautiful bow. "Goodnight, Doctor." Raising her voice slightly, she called "Goodnight, Alana."

With one more glance at Hannibal's impeccable form and entrancing eyes, she walked out the front door.