Thank you for the reviews so far, I appreciate it! If there's anything you like or don't like or something you think could be improved, please do let me know. I aim to please!

Four

The dark closed in on me, deep and humid – the warmth was so intense I could hardly breathe. My arms ached but I was too tired to strain against the leather straps as they burned into my wrists.

"What did I do?" I asked, it was as if I was watching myself try to talk – the words were so muffled and distant. The chill of a metal blade on stone caused my entire body to stiffen and I flinched as the blindfold was torn from my eyes.

"Grace Ryan, agent Grace Ryan of the FBI. Confirm your identity for me, Gracie," He said, his grey hair, green eyes and melodic sound of his voice were the only things I could identify him by.

"Agent Grace Ryan, FBI Behavioural Science Unit," I said, my mouth dry and tongue course.

"Occupation within the FBI Behavioural Science Unit, Miss Ryan," He asked again, still busy sharpening a small blade on a piece of flint.

"Forensic interviewer and sketch artist specialising in homicide," I replied, the quietest of whimpers escaping my lips.

"Hey, hey," His leather gloved hand lifted my face to his and he stared deep into my eyes, "Why don't you tell our audience what your job entails, I'm almost certain they are highly intrigued," He enthused, stroking a lock of red hair behind my ear.

"I interview suspects and witnesses," I paused to clear my dry throat and shake the sweat from my eyes, "I draw crime scenes, I analyze them, compare them to past crimes…I, I…I can't," I muttered.

"Tell the gentlemen what you do, please Agent Ryan, this isn't the most professional of behaviour you're displaying," He uttered calmly and I flinched away as he brought the knife closer to my bare abdomen, the skin prickling beneath the point.

"Grace Ryan, this lovely pale skinned, red haired vixen that she is – catches the naughty boys and girls," He smiled, cruelly.

"Thaddeus please," I begged, within seconds of me mentioning his name, the short blade had ran with lightening speed down my skin – the last thing in my vision was the flashing of the red light of the video camera in front of me.

I woke in a sweat, the alarm clock flashing red beside me, my hand instinctively reached for my stomach and my fingertips ran lightly over the patterning of rough scar tissue. My cell phone was ringing, the irritating buzz was caught somewhere in a pair of black work trousers and I scrambled out of bed to grab it.

"What?" I asked, realising the dryness of my throat hadn't just been in my dream. I grabbed the glass of water beside the sofa and drank it down.

"Er…Grace, we've got a lead, we got something back from the piece of pipe threader," Will's nervousness was palpable even over the phone and I immediately felt just a tiny bit guilty for answering the phone so abruptly.

"Yes, sorry, sure, text me the address and I'll meet you there," I hung up and covered my sweat dampened face with my hands. I had to get over this, I had to move on with my life. I had to get back to normal, if I could remember what normal was.

The dirt was dry and creating a cloud of sand coloured dust behind my car as I pulled up to the location. I watched as Hannibal passed boxes of files out of the small portable office building to Will, a middle aged office worker was helping where she could. I watched carefully as Hannibal knocked one box over, causing papers to flutter across the ground. Will moved immediately to help gather the scattered remains of the box, along with the office attendant. Hannibal however, made his way inside the office, alone. I climbed out of my car and walked towards Will, notepad tucked in the pocket of my dark jeans.

"Have you got something for me to do?" I asked, shielding my eyes from the sun.

"Garrett Jacob Hobbs, a phone number, no address. Every other employee has left an address," Will stated, packing another box into his car.
"Have you got a computer inside? One that won't take six hours to load an outside database?" I asked the woman who was staring on practically oblivious.

"Yeah, it ain't the fastest but…" She replied, but before she could finish I pushed past her to get inside the office. I came to a halt when I seen Dr Lecter, telephone in hand, a clean, crisp handkerchief wrapped around the receiver as he placed it back on the stand. Our eyes locked for just a second and it was the first time I had noticed just how dark his eyes were and how tall he was – he towered over my 5'3 frame, his shoulders broad but disguised well in the tailored suit he was wearing.
"If you had a phone call to make you could have borrowed my cell, or Will's…or there's a payphone around the corner, couple miles south," I stated with just a hint of sarcastic humour. His thin lips lifted at the corners into some kind of darkly forbidden smile that I hadn't seen before. For a moment I let him intimidate me, understanding that in this case, perhaps dark humour wasn't the smartest move on my behalf, especially when I didn't know what I was so suspicious of.

"I'll keep that in mind next time, Miss Ryan" Hannibal smiled again, before he walked past me, his arm briefly nudging against mine as he exited. I picked the telephone up, checking the previously dialled number I was greeted with merely a dial tone, whoever he had called – he had made it private.

I followed Will's vehicle closely as we made our way to Garrett Jacob Hobb's family home. There was an uneasy feeling in my stomach, it was causing my entire chest to tighten and strain – but it wasn't about the case. Hannibal Lecter made me nervous, incredibly nervous. There was something I was missing, something about him that just didn't sit right with me.

The Hobb's residence was a typical build for the area, surrounded with forest and grassy planes - a beautiful, solitary place to live. I climbed out of the car but was given no time at all before the peaceful location was stained horribly with terror. Mrs Hobb's clambered out of the front door, collapsing almost instantly on the porch, her hands clasped around her throat as blood pooled on the floor beneath her. I ran, Will was already beside her, his hands covered with her blood. My own vision was clouded, the blood was running so quickly, so smoothly over the wooden porch – dribbling between the cracks. I felt as if I were back there, it was my own throat cut, my own blood, my own death closing my vision in at the sides, leading slowly into the middle and bang. Gone. Dead. Alone. Forever. Will had already moved into the residence, he was calling out for Garrett Jacob Hobb's, it was clear that he was who we had been looking for this entire time…my hands shook as I reached for my cell phone. I called in back up and dropped my phone on the ground. I walked slowly and calmly back to my car, trembling. As I reached for the handle, gunshots rung out from inside the Hobb's residence, sirens were already echoing in the near distance. I got back into my car and sat there, the door closed and my eyes tightly shut. It was ok, someone was dead but it was ok, because it wasn't me. When I opened my eyes again, police cruisers and FBI vehicles were scattered around outside and I was staring right into the ominous irises of Dr Hannibal Lecter.