Roses Under Cypresses

Guest Reviewer - You do realize that your reviews make me want to do the opposite of what you want right? Like seriously, it makes me want to do the opposite. Without canon we wouldn't have anything to write, so while you deride it like a bad thing, I can only think it's a good thing, it allows you to lay the ground work for your own story. There really isn't a lot for you to read is there? If you're complaint about reading stuff from Canon material…it's a shame really. No matter, do me a favour though? Stop reading my work? Please? Not only do you read my Teen-wolf stuff and constantly complain about it, you're following me over here…wondering how I know? Your writing gives you away. It's quite distinctive.

Chapter 16

There was a heavy silence following Robin's departure, Will knowing what he wanted to do and knowing Harry would dislike it. Harry pacing in sheer annoyance wishing he had forced the squib to leave immediately. He did not want Will to end up back under Jack Crawford's thumb. Not just because the smug bastard would think he won, no, although it had a tiny part of it. He'd come across looking like a fool, but it was more importantly, mostly to do with Will. He'd just literally got him back, and now he wanted to be drawn back in? absorb their emotions and compromise himself?

Scowling in sheer annoyance, he pursed his lips, he knew his arguments could be refuted within seconds. The potions and the pendant to stop the bleed over in emotions would ensure it couldn't and wouldn't happen. He stopped moving, staring at nothing as he thought about it. Why was he so reluctant then, to let Will back into the field? Will could take care of himself, when he was himself. He didn't need someone to hold his hand.

"It won't be forever, he's more liable to screw up with me back than a newbie," Will pointed out.

Harry threw Will a confused look, arching a brow as he did so.

"When I first started working with him, Jack was polite, courteous, and the very definition of an ideal boss." Will said dryly, "Except the few occasions he lost his temper with others, or me, but our job is a high stress environment. It gets to all of us in different ways." he got horrid headaches – even before he got sick – Jack got loud, Beverly wasn't as cheerful and the guys actually stopped cracking jokes.

Harry stared clearly unimpressed and unchanging; he didn't give a shit what Crawford was going through. He wasn't going to give him a pass for thinking he could treat everyone like shit under his shoe. He was at work, he should remain fucking professional, if he couldn't keep his private life private or actually keep his composure don't bloody go into work.

"It was months into working with him, a few cases before he began to lose it on the regular," Will pointed out.

"Yes, and you can tell them that," Harry told Will, "When it comes time to go to court."

"And when they begin to ask about my hallucinations? How much I can be sure I actually went through and what was imagined?" Will asked resignedly, he knew how the court worked. He'd seen it work against him before, and it would, without about do it again.

Harry sighed, sitting down, grudgingly nodding, "Sounds about right, best way to discredit someone." If it was anyone other than Will, hell, he'd be doing it himself. The fact it was his brother, someone he cared about, made the world of difference.

Will just nodded, "Anything else I say would be discredited as well."

Harry grimaced, bitterness sitting heavily on his tongue, he sometimes hated Muggles.

"I want to do it," Will declared, "I'd heard rumours, knew a few bits and pieces…but this?" completely blown away, how many people had Jack used and discarded? He had joined the ranks; Jack hadn't even visited him since his arrest except to try and force him to a damn crime scene of all things. Fortunately, Harry had foreseen such a thing, because even he hadn't.

"What did you know?" Harry asked curiously, petting at one of the dogs, Kreacher despite returning the dogs hadn't come in. The greater their knowledge when it comes to Crawford, the greater their chance of successfully prosecuting the man for his crimes. He stood and retrieved a tin of biscuits, edging them closer to Will, encouraging him to eat.

"Miriam," Will said, picking out a cookie, he hadn't been a big eater as his illness progressed. The most he'd actually eaten was with Hannibal…but he didn't want to think on that right now. "There were a lot of rumours about her. She was smart, already highly sought after, Jack was paying special attention to her and her work. There was talk of Jack actually pulling her out of class and then by the end of the week she was missing." That was it though, it was just gossip from the students.

"Hearsay, nothing that can be used in court," Harry said, unsurprised, if it had been that easy, Robin would have already gotten the information he needed. He wouldn't be risking his ire to ask Will, although, Robin probably hadn't realized how he'd react to be fair.

Will shifted through the information, mind reeling, all this time…it beggared belief.

"I'm not going to be able to talk you out of this am I?" Harry asked resignedly. He doubted the fact he didn't want Will to do it would work on his brother.

"No," Will shook his head, "If this is true, he needs to be stopped." Showing the information off as if it explained everything. In a way it did, he might not have the passion for stopping killers now…the zest that clearly had come from someone else…but Jack had used him, and that did not sit well with him at all.

"We need to tell Hannibal," Harry said, gauging Will's reaction to his mention. His intense stare cottoned on that Will really didn't seem to hold a grudge against him. "Hmm, interesting." He murmured, as he removed his phone, setting it in the middle of the table, posed ready to call Hannibal on loudspeaker so that Will heard everything.

There would never be secrets between the two.

Or the three of them.

Hannibal was pleased to see the subtle – yet persistent – signs that Mischa was beginning to recover. Her colour wasn't so waxy and pale, her skin had more bounce to it. She was no longer dehydrated; the IV drips had done exactly as they were meant to. Her eyes were able to follow and focus far greater too, with the added precaution of antibiotics, she was significantly improved. He hadn't known what was wrong with her when they were children. He could smell the smoky feverish scent of a fever and so he ensured she would recover swiftly.

The awe he felt had yet to diminish, but he couldn't continue to take more days off work than he had. Not that he genuinely cared about any of them, but he had a reputation to keep. Which was more vital than ever, due to Will's initial proclamation that he was the Chesapeake Ripper. Sure, nobody believed it, and he needed to keep it that way.

He loved his freedom, and would kill anyone who dared to try and take it from him. It would also not be quite so easy to run when he had someone infinitely precious to him. Mischa would need to be added to the equation, plans had to be remade with her being his very first priority. Yes, a lot had to be remade but he didn't much care, all things will be done.

An alert on his phone had Hannibal's lips down turning in displeasure. His maroon eyes darkening in sheer annoyance. He did not need to see the phone to know whom it was. Abigail. He no longer felt the need to indulge her, nurture her, not when he had someone far more precious with him and far more deserving. Mischa was at a better age anyhow, to further bring out Will's parental side. Out of all aspects of Will, he had to confess, his protective tendencies were the far more valuable to him.

However, Will might be largely upset with him should he actually kill her. However, he did believe her to be dead. Will likely believed he had betrayed him by metaphorically killing their chance of a family. Which he presumed he would have to prove he had not. Especially if he wanted any sort of forgiveness from Will. They could send her out of the country, everyone thought she was dead, she could start anew.

It didn't please him at all, no, she knew far too much for him to be comfortable with that. Especially sending her far from him, out of his sphere of influence, his control. If she grew a conscience, it wouldn't just be her, it would be him ruined as well. It had always been a rather risky choice to allow Abigail Hobbs to go free, but he'd wanted to see what she'd do, how she'd react.

Now he was being stretched thin, and he pondered if that was Agent Potter's intents all along. To entirely overwhelm him, to make him choose. His lip curled just recalling Potter's words. It had not been his choice to eat Mischa, the soldiers had killed her – she'd been very sick – and they had eaten her and given her to him too.

Something Hannibal actually saw as his one true act of cannibalism.

Mischa wasn't one of the disgusting swine that paraded around the world as if they owed it. She was above them, better than them on par with him. He now owed it to her, for her future, to get rid of the rude pigs.

But first, he had to deal with one of the biggest threats to him.

He would have to deal with her here, in his home, it wasn't ideal, especially if she was seen coming. He would just need to trust that she was smart enough to avoid detection. She would be the first swine that would nourish Mischa, once he could stop giving her Silkie chicken broth. Which wouldn't be for a few days yet, she needed to build up an appetite that her stomach could handle. Picking up the empty bowl, he tucked her in, clenching his hand against the delicate porcelain bowl, clenching his jaw painfully, he knew how she felt, the hungers gaping maw insisting they eat, eat, eat even when their stomachs couldn't take any more. So, of course, they'd eat, eat, eat until their stomach expanded painfully.

Straightening up, he forced the memories down, he hadn't thought about that time in his life for decades. Clearing his throat, in a very rare show of genuine discomfort, Hannibal closed the door to Mischa's bedroom. What was going to happen…he didn't want Mischa to see, or better yet, hear. He made his way swiftly towards the kitchen and cleaned everything up, before drying his hands and picking up his phone.

Fingers poised to call Abigail and lure her to his home; he had no choice but to do this.

Then the doorbell went, Hannibal glanced at the time on his phone, six o'clock. In his socks he made hardly any noise as he made his way to the door. Not wishing for the person on the other side of the door to become impatient and ring again. There was a good chance that whoever it was, had woken Mischa up.

In his haste to ensure his sister – he had to get used to referring to her as his daughter – was not disturbed he did not check through the Peephole to see whom was at the door.

"Alana," Hannibal said politely, masking his impatience. He wanted her gone, it was very uncharitable of him, but he did. "Please, come in." opening the door and allowing Alana to enter, she turned and allowed him to remove her coat, which he did and hung it up. "Coffee?" he asked as he led her into the kitchen, a place where he felt most comfortable and entertained people. Already heading for the French press and his coffee machine.

"I'd love a beer if you have one," Alana said, sighing tiredly, "I need one after the day I've had." Sitting down on one of the chairs available.

Hannibal turned, sounding so sincerely apologetic, "I am sorry, I'm afraid I haven't had the time to brew any beer this week," he confessed, but ever the good host he asked, "Red or white wine?"

Alana stared a little dazed, as if she couldn't believe what she'd heard. "Red. Long week?" hoping he'd tell her what was going on. She'd hardly seen him or heard from him – last night was an exception – for this past week, "Does it have anything to do with Will?" who had been released recently. Of course, he had only been let out two days ago, so it didn't exactly explain that.

She wasn't beyond realizing that the two were close, very close, even now, despite the allegations Will had made. Hannibal was much too trusting, too good, it was beyond pale of Will, given all Hannibal had done for him.

Hannibal blinked, as always, her intuition did her proud, it was just a shame she didn't listen to it accurately. The assumptions she made were ludicrous sometimes. She liked to believe in the best of everyone, oddly enough, except Will. She was fond of him, liked him, there was no denying that, but it seemed to have stipulations attached. Unfortunately, for her, this time she was wrong. "It has been a long week." he murmured in agreement, placing the glass of wine in front of Alana.

"I dropped by your work earlier," Alana told him, watching him closely, "It was closed, it doesn't look like you've been there for some time." trying to gauge him, but like always, Hannibal wasn't easy to read at all. Which could be entirely frustrating.

What people did read from Hannibal was all an elaborate part of Hannibal's design.

"Yes," Hannibal agreed, "I needed some personal time." inhaling the succulent aroma in the glass, before taking a very dainty sip. Graceful in everything he did, as he placed the glass back down.

Alana leaned forward, curious to know more, they were after all, a couple. She had more rights than most, to know what was going on in Hannibal's life. "Hannibal, what is going on? Is everything okay?" Hannibal was always attentive, wining and dining, out all weekend, to Opera's, Museums, and parties. He hadn't had a dinner party at his place yet, that was something she was most looking forward to. To be the focus with Hannibal, to be hostess, it would be perfect. His dinner parties were the most talked about events of the year, everyone wanted to be invited to his dinner parties. Hannibal's invites were the best of the best in their fields, nobody was allowed to bring a plus one.

"Everything is going splendidly," Hannibal nodded, it was true, he was grateful she'd come when she had. So, that he hadn't had to encourage her to leave quickly so she wasn't there when Abigail got there. It was going to be difficult to gain Will's forgiveness – even if he thought she was already dead – for what he was about to do. Without having to take care of Alana as well, not to mention the difficulties that would arise due to their close and personal relationship. He always left at least three or four years between the 'confrontation' of the rude swine and dealing with it so that enough time had passed. That and he had his sister with him, both in him and at his side.

Alana smiled, taking a rather large gulp of wine, perplexed but happy for Hannibal. She just wished she could share in his certainty. She was missing something; of that she had no doubt. "That's great…" genuine in her happiness, perhaps Hannibal was planning a dinner party? Or attempting to surprise her in another way? "Is something worrying you?" picking up miniscule micro expressions from Hannibal that denoted stress.

"I'm breaking up with you." Hannibal informed Alana, but not without a certain softness, entirely generated to make it easier on Alana as it would be expected of him to do. He did keep his eyes on her, watching her, inspecting her. He'd wondered how she'd react and his speculation was often correct, but he had been surprised enough in life to ponder now and again.

Will had constantly amazed and surprised him during their friendship.

Thus far, Alana was predictable, boring and her self-righteous spiels were nauseating. She was very intelligent, very pretty, but he'd never envisioned anything long term with her. At first it had been petty petulance that had him dating her. Not that it had been difficult to gain her affection, she'd wanted him for over two decades since he became her mentor all those years ago.

That and he'd wanted to see for himself, what fascinated Will about her, and childishly why he'd choose her over him.

He'd wanted Will to hurt the same way he was hurting.

Alana stared at Hannibal blankly, not quite processing his words for a few brief moments. The glass of wine thumped harshly onto the marble worktops. "I…don't understand…" she was bewildered, she didn't ask him if he was joking, for he knew Hannibal never joked, and would never joke about something like this. "Is it something I've done? Something I've said?" revealing the insecurity she carried with her deep down inside. Yet despite her words, she straightened up defiantly, ready to fight for what she wanted.

A/N – Well, there we go, will Alana be introduced to Mischa in the next chapter and become under the impression that's why Hannibal was ending things with her? Or furious that he 'kept' something like that from her? Or will it be some time yet before Hannibal introduces Mischa to society? Home schooled or attending school, both have merits, one on one education is better while schooling allows for social interaction which will be important…although if we're going by the real history Mischa only ever had Hannibal really and their parents. I've gauged her to be around 5/6 years old so that's what she'll be in the story R&R please