AN - A double post today, I'm taking a minute to update all my stories on . My main account for writing is on AO3 and I often forget to update my when I'm posting on the other so that's why you're getting a number of updates today.
As always a HUGE thank you to everyone who bothers to leave me a like or a comment, I always appreciate them~3
I own nothing.
Not beta read.
OoOoO
Chapter 07
He woke up screaming, heart pounding as his voice was ripped from him.
"Will," hands were on him but he was frozen, blood made ice by terror to keep his body ridged as he continued to scream. "Will!" More forceful than before, the night stand light had been turned on and hands were one his face once more, a soothing voice hushing him, brilliant blue eyes finding his own to bring clam to his raging storm, "Will, it's okay, you're okay." Reassurance, he was awake, he hadn't killed anyone, he hadn't enjoyed the feeling of flesh giving beneath the blade of his knife as he pushed it through, he hadn't hushed soothingly as she hushed him now to ease his victims scream. He hadn't done that, any of that. "You're awake now, Will," he was shaking, body slicked in an icy sweat, fear consuming him as much as the darkness had before the light. He took one of the fine boned hands that held his face into his own and turned into the delicate fingers, buried his face in her palms.
"Alana," he swallowed, took a shaky breath and opened his eyes again when the sight of blood remained a fresh slick behind his eyelids. "Sorry."
Full lips found his in the gentle press of a kiss, finger combing back curls slicked with sweat, "Nothing to apologize for, everyone has nightmares." Not like his, he didn't argue, "Are you alright?"
He nodded, not yet trusting his voice, not with the taste of copper on the back of his tongue. He kissed her hand instead, the only reassurance he could offer before he pushed back the sheets. He needed some water.
Grabbing his sleepover bag he found a pair of sleeping shorts and an undershirt and pulled on both before wondering downstairs to the kitchen. It wasn't his house, he wasn't about to walk around naked where Alana's neighbours could catch a glimpse of too much through the window. True or not he wouldn't want anyone starting rumors about Alana and the company she kept.
Despite his silent reassurance, or perhaps because of it, Will's wife-to-be followed him downstairs.
"That seemed worse than usual, even for you." She had wrapped herself in a housecoat before following him downstairs. It was soft cream colored satin and hugged her form in a way that left little the imagination in a way that always made him smile. "Has it been bad with Jack recently?"
He found a bottle of Aspirin in the kitchen and swallowed two dry before filling a glass with tap water barely made cool by the run of the faucet. He didn't care how cold it was, he just wanted a drink. "I've been having them for a while." He admitted because dating a psychiatrist made it hard to lie, "we just haven't had the time together for you to find out." He didn't have to see Alana to know her dark brows would be furrowed with her ire, shapely mouth drawn in a tight line.
"A while?" She crossed her arms, leaning back against her kitchen island as she regard0ed Will, "how long is a while?"
He wet his lips and glanced back over his shoulder to the woman he loved more than anything in the world, had crushed on since meeting and knew he was about to piss off. "More than a few weeks. Maybe a month or two."
"So since you started profiling for Jack?" She pressed and he finally turned to face her. Even irritated he found her beautiful, dark hair falling in waves over her shoulders to settle against the swell of her breasts, deep blue eyes narrowed and drawing as though to scold him without words and the satin of her gown clinging to the smooth plains of her flesh. He could see the shadow of her nipple though the fabric, the darkness of hair where cloth pooled against her crotch. He always wanted to kiss her when he saw her wearing that robe.
"Yeah," he confessed, "since Jack." It didn't matter that he was tired, that it was the middle of the night or that this was their first night together in over a month. Will already knew they were going to have this conversation whether he wanted to or not, it would be best for him to just suck it up.
"You know this isn't good for you Will, to look, and these night terrors are proof of that." He wasn't meeting her eyes, nothing new and nothing she had ever taken in offense. It was something she had wanted to study once, something her mind often picked at when she wasn't paying enough attention to shut it off, she pushed to turn that ethical curiosity off now, "You have to tell Jack that you need a break, Will. This isn't good for you and he promised not to push."
He could have laugh at that promise. If only she knew the bullying that went into getting him on the team to begin with, pushed didn't come close. "Its fine, I'm fine. I'm saving people's lives Alana, that's worth more to me than a couple of bad nights sleep." He looked up at her and then he was looking past her, the great nightmare stag canting it's hooves in the kitchen, its antlers wielding the body of Cassie Boyle high above his future wife.
Hands were on him again, bringing his mind back from the nightmare that stood before him, his stormy eyes finding her vibrant blue. "You're seeing things..." she murmured, brows drawn together, "You're hallucinating again aren't you?"
"It's nothing Alana, just an overactive imagination." He wondered who he was trying to reassure more, Alana or himself.
"I just watched the color drain from you. It's not nothing. These nightmares are following you, they need to stop...and you're sick." She felt his neck, forehead. "Will, you're burning up."
"I-" A finger to his lips, he was done. She would allow no argument against this.
Looking out her first aid kit she pulled out the thermometer and pushed the thin tube of glass between his lips. "I don't want excuses Will. I can hear all of those I want from Jack." She stroked his cheek, let the stubble scrap against her palm, catch against her fingers as he was made to wait while the mercury rose. "Tell me the truth, Will. I want to help you, I want to help you." She touched her forehead to his, "I'm not going anywhere."
Will felt something inside him shift and threaten to break. He was unstable and for a time it had been enough to keep them apart and prevent them from dating. Almost enough to have the beautiful woman refuse the modest ring that sat on her finger. Now that he finally had her he didn't want to risk losing her. But lying would do nothing to save them either. She pulled the thin glass from his lips and he relented, "Are you sure you can make that promise?"
She looked at him, read between the lines and wished he didn't feel the need to ask. But she understood where the insecurity came from and where she stood on that mater. She took his hand in hers and tugged him closer; let the ring that sat on her finger like an oath slide against his own. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be wearing this." Another kiss, a soft smile, "We're in this together, until death do us part."
He smiled and let her lead him to the table, "we haven't reached that part yet, you still have the chance to run."
She let him sit and pulled a seat to sit across from him, knees touching.
"I'm not running Will, I'm not going anywhere."
OoOoO
"Hannibal, I'm glad you could make it. Did you have any trouble finding the place?" Jack greeted the Ripper in the parking lot, dressed in the same dark jacket and polished shoes he'd worn when meeting Hannibal Saturday morning.
"Not too much trouble," the killer answered squinting into the early morning light, the sky still laced with pinks and oranges in the early hours of dawn. " GPS offer a wide variety of maps, I was able to download one for Arlington before I left."
"Glad to hear it." He took the lead, showing Hannibal to the killing he had set on display not so long before. "Have you had a chance to look over the profiler I left for you?"
The profile had been created by Will Graham, the other half of his darling Adam, it was another step into the man's mind that he wasn't about to forgo. Hannibal had read and studied the words hidden in that folder, but not for the manor of the killing, he'd looked to read the painting as seen by the profiler. The killing as perceived by William.
It made him want to crawl inside him and watch as a murder unfold within his mind.
"I did, though I don't believe that there is much left to be said regarding the case." An officer lifted a stretched length of yellow and black tape as the pair approached, allowing Jack and Hannibal to slip under and continue toward the scene. "The last file in the folder was the killer was it not?"
Jack tensed, the skin around his jaw drawing taught before he forced it to relax. "We think so." He corrected, "We know so."
"You had hopped I would provide a different answer." He noted, "One that left the killer alive."
They stopped before a tree, large and beautiful with branches stretched as though it wished to cover the world, bright red leaves tipped its branches to make the nature look as though it were blazing with fire. "I was." The agent admitted, "I had been hoping for a copy-cat."
"It is a copy-cat."
"Not necessarily the one I'm hoping for." Jack turned to the three, looked at the body of the wound man left suspended from it. "What about this one? Is this a copy-cat too?"
Attention turned to the tree Hannibal stepped closer knowing full well what 'copy-cat' it was Jack was asking about. "I know the image that's being depicted, if that is what you mean. It's a recreation of the Wound Man. You see it in many medical text books, though I can tell you now that our killer is no medical student."
"Why's that?" No longer standing back to give the doctor his space Jack came up to join him, approaching the figure fastened to the tree as though seeing it more closely would make the art tell the creators secrets.
Hannibal stepped around him to indicate a laceration under the ribs. "This incision," he followed his finger above it, careful not to touch as he traced the segment in the air, "the coloring, the tearing at its edges, the killer pushed their arm inside. They weren't entirely sure how big or how deep to make the hole." Unused to working with cattle just yet, But he would be. Hannibal would see to his training personally.
"Not the Ripper then." The disappointment Hannibal read in the broad man's face went far beyond that of one disappointed in missing his even elusive mark. It was the crush of something deeper.
"No, though I have not seen your documentation on that particular killer to know for certain. I have however read a number or Miss Lounds articles from Tattle Crime regarding the Chesapeake Ripper," he feigned thought toward memory as though his mind palace were not the perfected halls and rooms of storage that they were. "If we were to take the Ripper into account, and I do believe he made something akin to this once in the past, then this would be a piece meant to commemorate him. Whoever our killer is, I believe they are celebrating the Ripper." It was a gift that he had felt blessed to receive, to witness his darling Adam in the recreation of his own work, slipping so deep into the Ripper's - Hannibal's - mind space as to replicate his own work. "I believe he has a fan."
Jack blanched and Hannibal felt another stir of intrigue, his curiosity piqued, "You look disturbed Jack, I know you're accustomed to worse than this, especially if you're hunting the Ripper." He left Jack to infer the question of 'why' himself. It would be rude to ask.
Really the man looked as though he needed to take a seat. "It's Will Graham." He said, forced himself to say, throat tight and jaw set against the discord that danced within him. "When we searched the Angel Maker's car we found Will's clothes in the trunk."
A measure of silence passed between them, one for Jack to gather his thoughts and for Hannibal to analyze the situation. Decide his next move in the game of chess. "Are you sure they simply hadn't been left there from before?" He knew what Jack was asking and he wanted to make the man say it.
"We ID'd the body." He explained and it suddenly had him looking years beyond himself. "The dental records were a match for Elliot Buddhish. The license plate was for his car." If the ground had opened up to swallow him whole Jack might have been grateful for the relieve it would bring, "We spoke with his family, he's been missing since before the meat angels started appearing around town."
Another moment passed, another breath drawn, "You think Will killed Elliot."
"I don't know what to think." Human nature was a puzzle, one Hannibal had always deeply enjoyed and Jack's struggle was no exception. Did he hope for his friend to have died innocent or for him to have lived as a killer?
"Yes you do." He encouraged, "You simply don't wish to give it life. Once a word is spoken it cannot be taken back and that gives it power. You don't wish to bring reality to the knowledge by giving it life."
"We found traces of Will's DNA in the car, hair samples. They matched the ones we pulled from his house. He was the last victim and the last victim didn't just mimic the killer, they understood them. They killed the Elliot knowing what he wanted to pursue and understanding that he was missing the equipment to properly mimic the method."
All information Hannibal already knew, but it was always so interesting to watch other realize and come to terms with such knowledge. "I've done some research on Mr. Graham since your visit, spoke with Dr. Bloom." He pulled his jacket marginally tighter against the wind. He didn't doubt that there would be frost soon the cold threatening snow. "He was a profiler for you, but one suspected of suffering from an empathy disorder."
"It made him the best." Jack said, eyes staring unfocused on the corpse before them. "I needed the best, people were dying."
He wondered how much comfort that brought the man at night with the loss of two agents hanging over his head, both investigations under his watch and on his call. "He was also sick."
"It was his choice to go." He said, but his words didn't hold the strength Hannibal knew they would have during his fight with Alana. They would have held bite then, venom for the man to make his own decisions and save countless people over his own life, the sacrifice of one life for many.
"Was it?" Jack would know, know that Hannibal knew. He had spoken to Alana; of course he would be aware of the words exchanged between them. "Then it is of no fault of yours that this has come to pass...though Alana..." He watched the guilt devour him, the knowledge that this was his doing, the life that could have been spared if he had only listened to the man's wife-to-be. A fact Alana would not allow him to soon forget.
He wondered how the court case would go.
Jack returned to the victim at hand. "This isn't the Ripper."
"No," Hannibal confirmed again, "but that doesn't mean it was Will Graham."
"There's only one way we'll know that for sure."
OoOoO
"I spoke with Dr. Donald Sutcliffe and he agreed to move your appointment forward. I got you in for Monday." Alana touched his shoulder, the anger she had held toward him for keeping so much from her for so long draining as she felt the heat of fever through his shirt. He was sicker than he let appearances seem. The last thing Will needed was her anger in his life.
"Thanks," he looked to her and this time their eyes met, stormy grey and ocean blue, water and the sky. "Probably better than the three weeks they'd originally scheduled me for."
"Hallucinations, voices, fever, headaches." Alana couldn't hide the worry from her face. "I think three weeks would be dangerous, especially given how long you've already let this sit."
He laughed, but it wasn't happy, "I know you're right, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."
"I usually am. I'm sorry I didn't watch you more closely." A bowl of Campbell's soup found its way in front of him, ginger and lemon tea at its side.
This time he did laugh, a smile pulling through as he looked at the offering of food, "You're my girlfriend, not my keeper. I'm not your responsibility."
"Fiancée, not girlfriend, and I'm not going to touch on the choice of 'keeper' over 'mother', but it's part of the 'loving you no matter what' deal that comes with the ring."
He took a spoon of soup and let it burn his tongue, it was good, cheap, reminded him of day gone by. Home sick as a kid with his dad heating tin soup and cheap broth in a pot on the stove, giving it to the boy lying sick on the couch in a chipped bowl or mug before leaving for work.
He might not have been the greatest dad, but he'd tried, and Will would always remember that.
"Sounds like you got the short end of the stick." He looked at the ring, "Or I owe you a bigger diamond."
She kissed him instead of pinching him and answered the phone when it rang. "Hello?" The smile she'd held in her voice died on the next word. "He's on vacation and he's sick. He's not coming in." Will looked up from his soup, would have stood to take the phone if not for the pointed look.
He was sick. Very, very sick and should have been taken off duty weeks ago.
He ate his soup.
"You have other profilers. You survived fine without him before. You'll last one more without him." Will wondered what it was Jack was saying. Alana was getting annoyed, very annoyed, her lips drawn into a line and one arm wrapped around her to hold the cable knit sweater against her. "Good bye Jack." A press of the button and she hung the phone back in the cradle.
Will pointedly took another bite of soup to show he wasn't leaving before he tried to ask, "Tell me what happened?"
She smiled at him, it was a smile that said: 'No, now eat your soup'. He took another mouthful and debated waiting for it to cool. He smiled as he heard his cell phone beep to life upstairs. "Tell me before Jack does?"
She sighed, poured herself a cup of coffee and joined him at the table. He wanted to steal it. Instead he drank his awful tea, it made her smile and the taste was more than worth it. "They found another victim from the Angel. Jack wants you to look."
"Then shouldn't I go?" The look again said 'soup'. He drank his tea instead. "It's saving people's lives Alana, I already have an appointment set, one more day on the job isn't going to kill me."
"You have a fever of 102 and you're hallucinating." She said impassive, there would be no argument and honestly will couldn't think of one to trump 'hallucinations and deadly fever.'
That didn't mean he wouldn't argue. "I've been working like this for weeks now, I'm saving lives."
"Not your own. If you go out you could make yourself worse," she argued, "boil your brain and die."
He looked up at her from his soup, meeting eyes for a moment before turning his gaze to the window behind her. It was late morning now, creeping into afternoon. "You've thought about this."
"Since last night when you came clean." She admitted, "You're sick Will, you're a good man who wants to do good things and save good people. But you're sick. Let someone else be the hero for today." She took a sip of coffee, warm steam tickling her nose, "You need to rest."
"I'll rest if you give me the rest of your coffee." She smiled, sliding it across the table to him, he took a swallow of burning heaven and slid into a comfortable slouch in his chair. Coffee thieving was the kind of love marriage was built on.
OoOoO
"Anything?" Hannibal inquired as he entered the lab carrying a trey of coffee in hand. The smell of fresh dark roast had a number of heads rising, the forensic team glancing up at the summoning scent of their life blood.
Jack accepted a steaming paper cup with a grateful nod, "Nothing yet," he admitted. But Jack wasn't about to celebrate. Until they had combed over every inch of that body there would still be a chance of finding something, anything, to connect the victim to Will. He'd learned years ago about false hope.
"You're still concerned that the culprit might be William?" He asked, handing out the remainder of the cups to Katz, Price and Zeller. All eyes found him at the drop of their friend's name.
"You think Will has something to do with this?" Katz asked what everyone was thinking, holding the cup to let the heat of the beverage warm her fingers.
Jack took a breath, calm his nerves, collect himself, face the world, "We ID'd the Angel Maker using dental records, matched DNA from his other victims with hair strands found in his car, including one of Will's." He shifted his balance from one foot to the other. "We also found Will's clothes. He most certainly had been intended as the next victim."
"That hardly paints Will a killer." Price was the first to defend their friend, pausing to take a drink of his own coffee.
Zeller ignored his own beverage as he finished dusting another knife for prints. "It doesn't guarantee his the killer," he corrected, "but everyone knew Will wasn't stable and the running theory is that the last victim is the killer's killer."
Price's frown deepened "Cruel irony."
"That a profiler would be a killer, or that the victim would be his killer?"
"Both?"
"We still don't know for sure Jack." Katz ignored the duo in favor of finding some hope for their friend. "He could have broken out, made a run for it. There might have been a second victim caught after Will."
"Who had an understanding of both the Angel Maker as well as the Ripper?" Hannibal offered his own insight, "He mimicked the Angel and now he's mimicked the Ripper." He stepped closer, examining the damage done to the corpse. He could still feel the give of flesh beneath his and Adam's fingers, the push of the knife through flesh.
"There will be no happy ending in this. Either William a victim and dead or he is a killer." He turned his attention to Katz, "I'm afraid I see no reason to believe otherwise, especially not with him having worked while sick."
"He was sick?" It was Price now, looking up from his dusting of knives to look at their boss, "What kind of sick?"
"Does it matter?" Zeller asked, stopping his dusting long enough to take a swig of coffee, "We all knew he wasn't quite right."
"Alana told you?" Jack asked Hannibal, ignoring his team for the time being.
"As I mentioned before, I had the chance to speak with Dr. Bloom." He wondered if he would be asked to attend Jack's trial. He didn't doubt Alana would be pursuing legal actions.
"Jack," They turned to Katz, tweezers in hand as she slowly lifted a single strand of hair into view, "I found something."
OoOoO
By late afternoon Will was resting on the couch with Alana curled into his side watching a romance movie he would have happily done without but found himself enjoying thanks to the woman curled into his side. Be it his empathy or love for Alana he never seemed to have much trouble getting through a chick flick.
He closed his eyes, arm looped in a lazy hold around Alana's waist. He was just starting to drift between sleep and consciousness when a sharp knock at the door sounded. "Someone's at the door." Alana whispered when Will continued to hold her against him, unwilling to let the beauty go.
"Is there?" He cracked open an eye, peeking down at the brunette tugging lightly at his arm. "Do you think they'll go away if we ignore them?"
"Yes, but that would be rude." She smiled, "I'll be right back." She kissed him and for a moment he wished he could stop time. It had always been during those moments - the simple quiet ones - that Will felt most loved. She would be back, always came back and always asked him back.
She always wore her ring.
He paused the movie and let his arm fall away, watching as Alana wondered away in pursuit of the door, yoga pants clinging so nicely to her bottom and legs he couldn't help but watch as she left. For all his skill as a profiler he had yet to figure out Alana's interest in him. She could do better.
"I'm positive this qualifies as harassment." Will heard from the entrance way and didn't need to hear any more to drag himself up from the couch and wonder toward the door.
"He's here isn't he? I need to speak with him Alana. It's important." Jack was calm, not quite demanding as he allowed certain amount of urgency through his voice. Jack needed Will, and he was at a point where he wasn't taking 'no' for an answer.
Will stepped around the corner to see his boss standing at the door, uninvited in to hold this argument over the threshold and in the house. Which meant Alana was pissed. "He's sick Jack, never mind that he's on vacation, he's sick, very sick. He's not going."
He looked past Alana to the man he sought, "I think that's Will's call to make." She turned to Will and the rage was evident. She was furious with Jack's arrival and with his demands after the earlier refusal, Will didn't see this ending well for him no matter what way he looked at it. "Will, we found another body."
"Jack," Alana was right, it was one day, just one day, one weekend, and he needed it. Since allowing Alana to care for him the little that she had he had begun to feel exactly how sick he was. His exhaustion was bone deep, his skin was on fire and his head was a pounding mess. He needed a break and everyone knew it.
Jack didn't give him a chance to state his opinion, "It's changed Will. He's changed his methods and I need to know why before another body shows up."
"Jack, I'm sick." He tried and felt the supportive hand of his future wife touch his back, "Alana is right, I shouldn't be out there. I've been sick for weeks now."
"Weeks that you worked through, taking killers off the streets and saving lives." He tried to reason with him, "Will, this could be what brings him in. You need the scene to work and this one can't be more than a few hours old. I can't get it any fresher than that."
Her hand fell away, Alana taking a step forward as though to protect Will, block him from Jack's words with the barrier made by her, "Jack if you need someone then let me look. He's already said no, leave Will to rest."
"Will has been working on this profile for over two weeks, he knows the killer better than anyone, and you and I both know he profiles better than anyone. If there's something to be seen from this he'll see it. No one else will do, I need him." He might have been speaking with Alana, but he was looking at Will, looking at eyes that refused to meet his own.
She wasn't detoured by his insolence, "He's sick Jack! Sick! You can't do this to him!"
He ignored her in favor of the man who could put another monster behind bars. "I know you can do this Will, you've been doing it for weeks now while eating Aspirin like candy." Will didn't meet his eyes, but he was at least looking at his face now, "You know you can do this, so know that if you refuse then every death to come after will be on your shoulders. You could have stopped him."
This time Alana stepped directly in front of Will, forced Jack to look at her instead of Will, "This is blatant harassment, you're bullying him!"
He didn't want to go, but he didn't want the river of blood either. "I'll do it." Not when he could stop it.
"Will!" She turned on her fiancé.
"Grab your coat I'll give you a ride." Victorious Jack turned to leave.
Will pulled on his shoes, rising to meet eyes with Alana and felt a swell of guilt flood through him. "You can't go Will you're sick."
"He's right Alana. We both know it. I might not like it, but there isn't anyone whole who can do what I do broken," he leaned in to kiss her and caught her cheek, head turned in refusal of the offered affection. He pushed down the new stab of guilt and tried for a smile. "I'll come back as soon as I'm done."
"No," she said, "you won't." And the look she gave him was ice, "If you walk out that door, you don't come back. Either you stay and get better or I'm taking off this ring." She announced the ultimatum.
He felt his chest squeeze. "Alana-"
"Six, Will, and the gaps between victims have been shrinking."
"I-" He looked at her, the woman he loved more than anything and thought of the innocent lives he could save, the deaths he would have to live with knowing belonged to him if he chose Alana over looking at death, the right choice and the selfish one.
"I'll take my car."
OoOoO
"It's a match Jack." Beverly announced, face straight despite the obvious pain in her voice, she didn't want to believe it, but science didn't lie. "The hair belongs to Will."
Silence filled the room like a dense fog, choking the voices from all.
"I'll speak with Alana." Hannibal was the first to breach the silence, a light house encouraging all back to shore. It didn't matter that Will had been their friend; they had a job to do. "I have known her for many years." He looked to Jack, "I think she might handle the news better from a friend."
OoOoO
"You two going to be alright?" Jack asked as he held police tape overhead to be ducked.
Will slipped under and walked toward the newest body. He didn't know it's gender, wasn't sure if anyone knew, it had been charred to little more than bones. It's blackened body falling through the thick wire that had once held hands clasped in prayer. "Does it matter Jack?" He fired back, "if you cared about that you wouldn't have bullied me into this." He stopped before the body, police and forensic milling about the display.
It could have been a statue, carved from charcoal and onyx, black as night and void of life.
"You can still walk away from this no one is forcing you to stay." He said, washing his hands from the damage he had caused Will and Alana.
"And do what?" Price handed him a pair of gloves and Will slipped them on, carefully circling the body. With most of it burned away there wasn't much left to see. Not of the flesh at least. "Do you want me to go back? You heard her Jack, I can't. If I'm lucky I'll see her at my appointment on Monday, maybe we can talk then." He turned on him, "or do you mean not helping and being guilty by proxy for the next sting of deaths to happen while I'm out of commission?"
Jack didn't answer, instead looking from Will to the body behind him. "What can you tell me?"
He sighed, lifting his glasses to rub overtired eyes before returning to the body. "Can you clear out a few of the people for a couple of minutes?" It was always hard to look, even harder to come back.
Some days he just didn't want to.
"Everyone take five." Jack bellowed, gaining the attention of all present, "clear the field."
A freak show, always had been, always would be.
He closed his eyes and let the pendulum swing.
"He's cleansing them." Will announced, opening his eyes to stare at a victim he had doused in gasoline to burn alive only moments before, "Removing their sins with 'hells fire'. We already know he's using sinners," Will offered as he came back from the darkness, stepping away from the blood soaked corners of his mind that always urged him to step a little further into the shadows every time he looked. He feared the day he looked and didn't come back.
Jack raised a brow, "turning them into angels isn't good enough?"
"You can't turn a sinner into an angel," Will explained trying to rub some of the memory from his eyes, "they need to be cleansed. So that's what he's doing, he's cleansing them with fire to free them of their sins so they can be angels."
"And he's using 'Adam's Amazing Propane' to do it." Zeller offered as he stepped closer with a tagged bag in hand, the small squeeze bottle of propane zipped safe inside.
Will took one look at the bottle and knew the brand. "Adam's only sold at Town and Country gas."
The random fact earned him a look from both men, "You sure?" Jack asked at the unexpected knowledge.
He shrugged, "There's a TV in the local dinner, I got to hear about it during one of my coffee runs."
It was good enough for Jack, "I'll see about getting a warrant for the video surveillance. In the meantime I want you to drive to the local Town and Country gas stops and see if any of the cashiers remembers selling Adam's over the past week."
"Sure," it wasn't as though Alana was about to let him back in, "Let me know when you get the surveillance footage, I'll help look it over." Adjusting his glasses he started toward his car.
"Will," he glanced back to Jack, concern knitting his brows together as he looked at the profiler. "You are you good for this?" Will smiled, weak and bitter before walking away.
"Does it matter?"
OoOoO
A quick check in at home provided Hannibal reassurance that his Adam was still sound asleep, bowl empty by his bed. He knelt by him, pressed the back of his hand to the slumbering man's cheek to feel the heat emanating from his flesh. He was still running hot. The returning spike of fever flushed his skin a warm pink stretching over his nose and down his neck and chest. It was reason enough for concern and had Hannibal retrieving his medical bag.
He slipped a thermometer beneath the sleeping man's tongue and admired the calm that claimed his features in sleep. "Do you dream of hell fire when you sleep?" He combed fingers through soft curls and smiled, "Do you walk through the nightmares of Will's mind and smile at the lesser creatures when they approach?" He pulled the thin glass tube from between his lips and kissed the lax mouth, lips gently parted against his own. "I wonder if Will would fear you as one fears the boogieman were you to meet, fear the personification of his own inner darkness."
He checked the thermometer with a thoughtful hum and selected a syringe from his bag, "You devour the death he feared with a disquisitive hunger and within you it grows." He slipped the needles tip into a vile and pulled the plunger, filling the syringe, "You're fever is proving to be relentless, what I'm about to give you is an injection of non-steroid anti-inflammatory drug." He whipped alcohol over the inner flesh of his elbow, "It will significantly reduce your fever, though for how long I cannot be certain. If you're suffering from an infection it is only a matter of time before the fire within you returns." Meaning he may still require a CT scan. "We'll have to wait and see." He pressed the needle beneath his skin and pushed the plunger to flood his veins with cold.
"Sleep well, I'll be home shortly." He kissed the small swell of blood that pooled where the needle had pricked, tasted his Adam against his lips, and covered the prick with a bandaid.
OoOoO
Will entered his third station and counted himself lucky when he noted there was only one other patron other than himself browsing the shelves, it was always easier when the store was empty, or in this case mostly empty. If he was lucky the manager would be in and he would have a relatively smooth interview before moving onto the next station.
He stepped up to the counter and took note of the girl working the cash, young and pretty. He guessed by looking at her that she must have been starting collage, probably using the pay for cheap accommodations while studying one course or another. He hoped she did well, "Excuse me, would your manager be available?"
"Something the matter?" She smiled, trying for her best customer service look and Will hoped not to ruin her day, he slipped his badge from his pocket and watched the color drain from her face as she her thoughts suddenly running through anything she might have done the past few days to bring a federal officer upon her.
"I'm Special Agent Will Graham of the FBI, I just need to ask the manager a few questions." He tried for a reassuring smile and hoped he wasn't too tired to pull it off. He saw his reflection in the glass of a firework case behind the counter and stopped smiling. He looked more dead than alive and anything but reassuring. "Are they available?" She nodded without a word and locked the register before stepping away from the counter and through a door to the back.
A moment of privacy granted Will fished a bottle of aspirin from his pocket and dry swallowed two pills. His head was killing him, not that the pain was anything when compared to the overwhelming guilt devouring his insides. The fight had been lose-lose, no matter what he'd picked someone was going to suffer. Alana loved him, was trying to protect him and Jack needed him to save people, he'd manipulated him to save lives.
Because saving people because it was the right thing to do.
It was the last coherent thought Will Graham had before his head collided with the counter, his sight landing on the cheery blue and red bottle of Adam's Amazing Propane before the world fell away and he was consumed by darkness.
OoOoO
Adam was suffering from an infection, one that would no doubt kill him if left to fester much longer. This posed a new question for Hannibal, one he needed time to consider all the reigning consequences of before he decided to act.
Did he cure Adam's fever or did he leave it? Curing the aliment would of course save him, prolonging his life. However, it also ran the risk of 'curing' Will. If the infection was the trigger anchoring Adam and keeping Will at bay then he would inevitably lose his angel. If he were to see to Adam's treatment himself he would be able to influence his recovery, a blend of chemicals and unethical therapy to keep his angel with him, prevent the return of Will Graham.
He turned down a quiet suburban street and smiled as he pulled in to Alana's driveway. Even if he was to fail and Adam merged with Will, he wouldn't really lose him. Adam would always exist somewhere within the profiler's mind and Will had nowhere else to go, no one left to turn to, no one but Hannibal.
Not anymore.
OoOoO
'Where am I?' His mind was foggy, his head hurt and he was cold. 'What happened?' His fingers twitched with some effort and he felt the damp soil beneath their pads, the twist of grass and gravel under his nails. 'Not dead then.'
He forced open his eyes and was consumed by darkness and light, a thousand pinpricks of white dancing through the veil of night. He could see a red glow from where he lay in the earth, the ground lower beneath him than where it raised along his sides, meaning he'd woken up in a ditch. He followed the curve of the ditch to the red glow of a tail light and the silhouette of a man digging through the trunk.
'Angel Maker', he thought and knew, knew this man was going to kill him, was gathering twin and cored and gasoline to turn him into an angel and burn him to little more than ash.
His breath caught in his throat with the sudden realization, heart hammering, threatening to burst from his chest as fear consumed him where he lay watching the killer, his killer, gather supplies for his murder.
He tried to remember how he'd gotten there, his name, his age anything about himself to no avail. He knew nothing of himself, nothing at all. But he knew this man, this killer. Knew him like a lover.
He would bind his hands into prayer, force his body to kneel and keep it there like a statue with wire and twine, he would peel the flesh from his back and bracket it into wings and then he would douse him in Adam's Amazing Propane and burn the flesh from his bones alive, the sins from his soul as he screamed himself to death.
He swallowed back the fear that threatened to consume him, made his limbs shake and heart scream and tried to think. But all he could see was blood, fire and his won death.
He didn't want to die, he wasn't ready to die, he wanted to live.
From the void of his mind darkness reached for him, an offer of life and salvation in the form of long taloned fingers craved from onyx and eyes the color of blood. An extension of himself, one locked away behind the iron bars of a cage, but one that could save him. He took the hand.
There was the breaking of iron and soul within as the monster crouching deep inside was at last freed.
His heart slowed the shaking ceased and he watched the figure approach, a length of rope in hand. He tested his fingers again, shifted them in the dirt and felt the smooth coolness of glass against his palm, a curved piece of broken bottle he gripped as one might a knife and smiled like a demon when the killer moved closer, leaned down to gather his hands for prayer. "Good morning," he greeted and drove the length of green bottle glass into his jugular.
It was the birth of a monster.
OoOoO
TBC