It was the nurses who first realized that something was off. Towards the end of his stay, Chilton's salacious advances had tapered off to nothing. More than one nurse thought this was a sign that the doctor was experiencing some unforeseen complication, but soon enough a candy striper overheard a conversation that explained everything.

Freddie Lounds—the loud redhead who never respected visiting hours—had been visiting Doctor Chilton with her tape recorder in hand. Determined to make the best out of a bad situation, she was turning her night of terror into a sensational article for , which she hoped to top off with an exclusive interview with Chilton.

Chilton had refused her for a handful of days, protesting that he was still too weakened by his injuries, but it had really been a plot to keep the gorgeous woman visiting him. Freddie understood this and was willing to play his game…until he stopped playing. The game didn't go on for more than a week when Chilton answered each and every one of her questions, embellishing the narrative a little in all the right places. She'd snapped off her recorder when she was done with a bemused smile on her face. She had expected Chilton to hold out for two weeks at least, maybe three…but she thought she knew the reason. She'd seen the other person who visited Chilton every day, the man with the shy, child-like eyes and the FBI job.

"You two would make a good couple." She said as she dropped her recorder back into her purse. She really had no way of knowing whether Chilton had stopped hitting on the women because he was pleased with the forensic investigator's crush or irritated by it, but she had a hunch. This was a new age, after all. Now people hardly gave her and Wendy a second glance when they walked down the street holding hands.

Chilton's only reply was a smile.

So the nurses knew, Freddie Lounds knew (as would all readers of , if it could ever serve her as a story), and Chilton knew…but as of yet Brian was completely unaware of just how transparent he was being. Everyone at work was too caught up with Will Graham's breakdown to notice, but all the people who really mattered…they had noticed. Most importantly Chilton was now sure about Brian, or as sure as he could be, and he was making a plan.

Chilton would have gone into action sooner, had it not been for his welcome home. No one really cared about him (except, he had begun to suspect, Brian Zeller), but some people even do kind things for the people they don't particularly like. One of the nurses from the asylum, Barney Mathews, had arranged a coming-home party. Whether because he wasn't fond of crowds or because no one had thought to invite him, Brian made himself scarce.

Chilton found himself tolerating attention rather than basking in it for the first time in a long time. His mind was elsewhere…in the gutter or, more accurately, in the bedroom.

The next day Brian picked up the phone on the first ring, breathing a silent sigh of relief when he heard Chilton's voice. He didn't try to explain his absence from Chilton's party or mention that it had been the first day in many weeks that they hadn't spoken. Not that Chilton gave him very much time for either of those. "Can you meet me downtown in half an hour, at a nightclub called Wendy City? A friend promised me free drinks for a night in exchange for an interview…can you?"

"Yes, but doctor—" Chilton hung up before he could ask, should you be drinking without a liver? And now a dozen more pertinent questions occurred to him, not the least of which being what do you want from me?, but now was not the time. With a sigh, Brian grabbed his car keys out of a cup.

Chilton gave a plausible answer to the latter question as soon as the forensics specialist joined him at the bar. There were two beers in front of Chilton, and he pushed bpth of them at Brian. "A night of free drinking to a man with no liver…makes sense, doesn't it?" he laughed at the bemused expression on Brian's face. "C'mon, I need someone to drink for me. Let's take Miss Lounds for all she's worth." As he said this he tipped his chin towards a shapely blond woman serving drinks. From what Brian had seen, Miss Lounds was a redhead…and then it made sense. The bar didn't seem like one of those places, the people crowding around the dancer's stage were mostly men, and Brian breathed yet another sigh of relief. Chilton watched all this with amusement.

Chilton didn't wait long before he offered to drive Brian to his house for dinner. He wanted the man relaxed, not drunk. He unlocked the door to his house and waved Brian ahead of him. He'd expected to be nervous, like a young girl on her first date…but that had passed. He'd been sure of Brian for a while now. He just needed Brian sure of him.

A dinner at Doctor Chilton's house was very different than a dinner at Doctor Lecter's would have been. For one, the chicken had actually had feathers at one point. For two, it was just the two of them.

Halfway through dinner, Doctor Chilton put his fork down. "I think we need to discuss our relationship now that I'm out of the hospital, Brian."

The way he folded his hands when he said that…it filled Brian's veins with ice. Perhaps it was made worse by the way his heart had stuttered when Doctor Chilton had said relationship, but did it matter? He knew what was coming. It was fine for an injured doctor to pass the time with a non-paying client when he was bored, but now that he was well again he would either demand payment or sever ties entirely.

Chilton noted that Brian winced as if he'd received a kick to the gut and continued, not wanting to leave him hanging. "I enjoy your company very much." Oh yes, Frederick, the perfect way to set the man's mind at ease…it's a line straight from a Dear John letter. "I…" But how to put this into words? "There was something I was hoping I could show you."

The kicked-puppy look left Brian's eyes, but he still seemed wary. Chilton doubted that Brian knew just how transparent he was. Yes, he probably thought he had a perpetual poker face. Time to shatter that illusion for him.

"If you could follow me…?" Chilton stood, leaving his mostly-empty plate on the table. There'd be time to clean up later. After dessert.

Brian made no comment as he stood, though he shot a bemused glance at his own plate before pushing his chair back in and following Chilton. The psychiatrist led him to a flight of steps to the basement door.

For one moment, Brian felt as if he was back at work. Jack Crawford would reach forward and open the door to a torture dungeon, revealing his own body impaled on spikes above a pool of blood. Yes, he felt safe with Doctor Chilton, but the hungry look in his eyes right now—

Doctor Chilton reached forward and pushed the door open, letting it swing rather than stepping through. His eyes were on Brian.

Brian's mouth gaped as a room very close to his imagined scenario filled his view. No spikes and no bleeding body, no, but just about everything in it looked deadly. The back wall of the basement was covered entirely with wipes, chains, and dangerous-looking objects.

Now Chilton's smile was gone. Instead, he looked anxiously at Brian's face. "Brian…?" he said softly.

Brian managed to close his mouth, but when he moved it at first no sound came out. He swallowed and tried again.

"Holy shit!"