Drifters

Molly's cousin in California was profusely apologetic, but they were having work done on the house and half of it was either currently torn up or going to be torn up over the next couple of months. It would be a terrible time for houseguests. So, that was out. Will resigned himself to the grandparents in Oregon. He knew that Josh was more than welcome there, but he wasn't entirely comfortable; he felt like a guest, not family. But that didn't matter – they would only be there temporarily, and if Molly and Josh felt safe, that was what was most important.

The problem with staying there long term, beyond overstaying their welcome, was that the connection was too obvious. If they were truly going to relocate, they had to wind up somewhere they could be completely anonymous and unknown. Will wanted to go back to the East Coast, but not too soon. If Lecter had any unfinished business to take care of, it would take him back to Baltimore. Chilton was in Baltimore. For these reasons alone, Will did not want to go anywhere near Baltimore right now. The idea of accidentally running into Dr. Lecter in the grocery store was too much.

As it turned out, sleeping in his own bed on Sugarloaf Key was too much for him. That first night back, he woke up in a cold sweat and shaking. They'd waited up for Josh, who managed to get back by a quarter to twelve. He only slept three hours when the nightmare took him. Until they left Florida, he slept on the boat with the dogs for company and the sound of water in his ears. It helped, and at least his night terrors didn't wake up Molly. If she dreamed, she did so quietly and did not want to talk about it. She tried very hard not to smother Josh, but she still worried about him whenever he was out of her sight.

They all reassured one another that life was always uncertain, and that something terrible could happen at any time – Lecter was no more inevitable than cancer or hurricanes. Somehow, this didn't help.

They packed their things, but not the furniture, and left the key with the realtor who would be showing their house. Will also left him a picture of Dr. Lecter and Jack Crawford's phone number, with strict instructions not to give out his contact information in Oregon to anyone. "Just take a message," he said.

One of the things Will took with him was a framed picture of a family he had never met. It had been found in Dolarhyde's stolen car after his death (his real death), along with the killer's homemade videos. Will knew they were his next intended victims, before he had chosen to focus on Graham instead. Molly knew that behind the picture of the Shermans were the pictures of the Jacobis and the Leeds – the ones he didn't save. She dealt with that memory differently than he did, but said nothing when he packed that picture.

In Oregon, Will was overly polite, and spent as much time outside as he could. The weather was cooler than Florida, and wet. This did not deter him. At night, he shared Molly's room. As always, he turned the lights out before laying down next to her. She knew that he would never lose consciousness of his scarred face, even if she had gotten used to it. "Does it bother you that I want to kill him?" he asked her in the darkness.

"No," she said too quickly. "I know you wouldn't enjoy it."

He winced anyway. "I have to," he said, trying to convince himself.

"I know. Lecter is the one who makes it personal. If he's going to come after us, we all have to be ready to kill him. Even Josh." She hated saying that, but he could hear that she was convinced of the truth.

"God, Molly, not him too." He ran a hand through his hair. He had shot Hobbs to death; she had shot Dolarhyde to death. Did that mean it was Josh's turn to shoot Dr. Lecter? He was being stupid; the world didn't work that way. Still, what kind of father was he, to bring this on his family?

"Maybe he'll have the sense to stay away," she murmured, voicing her own hope. Will could not bring himself to share it. He'd seen firsthand how much hatred the man bore for him. And he knew Dr. Lecter to be a very patient man – he could wait for the opportune moment, if he had to.

Next time he called Crawford, he got a secretary who said the man was out on compassionate leave. Will was a bit shaken to hear of his wife's death; he hadn't known she was so sick. But of course Crawford wouldn't have spoken of it himself.

"Congratulations on another collar," he said formally.

"I'm glad you called, Will," Jack Crawford said, when next they spoke.

"Listen, what I said the other night, I didn't…."

"No, don't even say it. It was late. You've had more time to think now." It was two weeks since Will had seen the news.

"Jack, I'm sorry, I heard…"

"Thanks." Jack Crawford never wanted to talk about himself.

"I'm in Oregon with Josh's grandparents. For now."

"What are your plans?"

"We'll stay here til the place sells."

"How long would that be?"

"You saw the place; it shouldn't be too long."

"That was before the hurricanes."

"Even so, it's good real estate. They think it will be snapped up."

"So, what's next?"

"I…I want to come back."

"Pardon?"

"You said you'd get me a job. I'll help you hunt Lecter."

Jack was silent for a moment. "Will, before I can let you do that, there are some things we have to put on the table."

"Shoot."

"The Bureau will want a psychological evaluation."

Silence.

"It'd be your choice of who does it, but I couldn't take you back on without that."

"I…understand."

"We'll have to discuss security for your family. I'm not going to let you do anything rash."

"Of course. I don't plan to buy a house using my real name."

"I always level with you. I'm retiring in a couple of years, no matter what. If I take you on now, I can't promise anything beyond that."

"I'd hope that in…in a couple of years…we'd have caught him."

"Me too. And if he keeps up his shenanigans, we might have him soon."

"Why? What did he do?"

"Wrote a letter to Chilton. And Starling."

"So he's on the move."

"Most likely. Used a remailing service in London, though, so we can't be sure."

Even that small scrap of information started working in Will's head. "I'm coming in. I…don't care who does the evaluation. Preferably somebody I don't know."

"So not Bloom then."

"No, not Bloom. Christ, Jack, he's the one shrink who isn't itching to dissect me. I'd rather not change that."

"Of course. Call me when you sell the house; I'll set up the necessary appointments. It…it will be good to be working with you again."

"Thanks, Jack. I…I look forward to seeing everyone." Crawford had been smart enough not to say anything about seeing him.

After he hung up, Will stared at the phone for awhile. Then he called the realtor in Florida and warned him, again, about Lecter. "If he realizes you've recognized him, he will kill you. You can't fuck around with this guy, okay? Just play dumb, let him get the hell out of there, and then call the FBI straight away if he shows up." The man sounded reasonably spooked. If Lecter was on the move, there was a chance he'd head to Florida. But Will still thought there was a strong chance he'd head to Baltimore first. Better to stay here in Oregon for awhile.

Molly poked her head in after he hung up the phone.

"Everything alright?"

No, nothing was alright. "Let's start looking for a place on the Chesapeake."