Ok. Massive chapter here, I hope you're ready.

Frances couldn't possibly complain when a very handsome, very naked Hannibal decided to join her bath. They had steered rather clear of each other after their morning tryst, and despite the pain in her elbow and knee, Frances had taken advantage of that time to walk in the park while Hannibal worked on his composition on the harpsichord.

Her desire to enjoy the weather and its mountains of snow had called a shudder up her husband's spine. Seeing that immaculate blanket had called the wild Frances to the front. She wanted to ski, to walk until her feet were blue and her legs too tired to even leave the ground. She wanted to roll around, rush downhill in a sledge and snow battle to death. Built forts and igloos, or watch the sun glimmer on insanely high peaks. Perhaps she should leave a few days, and get to a ski resort ?

But none of those occupations were of Hannibal's taste. The outside, and the reminder of their human condition didn't agree with him. And if, sometimes, he went out of his way to satisfy her need for the great outdoors, today wasn't one of them. Did he feel guilty for bruising her so badly ? She doubted it; her body was marred with the mark of his fingers. Her hips, her forearms and wrists had taken the brunt of his brutality.

The young woman sighed, reclining against Hannibal's warm body when he settled behind her. The moment his skin touched hers, she sagged in his embrace. Warm water, humming chest and loving embrace… How crazy was she, really, to love a man that could crush her windpipe without missing a beat ? The ski resort idea went flying through the window. What pleasure could she take in skiing on her own ? How lonely could a trek in the snow be, without the company of someone she loved ?

Hannibal's hand sprayed upon her stomach, his fingers caressing he soft skin. Frances let her head fall backwards over his collarbone, humming her delight at his touch. There was something magic in the way his proximity made her feel; complete. As if, away from him, she was but a shell. A ghost, awaiting for her other half to take form.

Her fingers slid over Hannibal's hand, enclosing his lovingly. For a moment, all was well. The silence only disturbed by the faint noise of his breathing against her ear. The stillness accompanied by the steady rise and fall of his chest. The sensation of their cuddled bodies enhanced by the touch of his lips across her temple.

When his other hand trailed the bite mark upon her shoulder, Frances suddenly tensed. Hannibal didn't apologize, but he kissed the disturbed flesh gently. He was ice and fire, her own paradise and hell. He was her all, the sun and the dark, the air she breathed as well as the weight that crushed her lithe frame. And even if she couldn't live without him, it sometimes became too intense for her to handle.

She needed a breather. She needed to regroup to keep her perspective.

An idea formed in her mind then. Perhaps she couldn't share he love for the outdoors with her beloved, but there might be a friend that enjoyed walking in the snow.

Frances pushed away from Hannibal's chest to turn around. Hannibal addressed her a wary look, awaiting for her to speak.

"I'll get to Will tomorrow."

The psychiatrist lifted an eyebrow, its barely discernible line set in an enquiring expression.

"I'm afraid the roads might not be in pristine condition."

Frances refrained the urge to play dumb and answer 'Thank you captain obvious'. Cutting the chase, she casually responded:

"I've got winter tyres. There's in the basement, ready to be installed."

Her husband pursed his lips.

"I doubt you will find any available mechanic in the morning."

Hannibal's even voice didn't hide the hint of patronisation. His cold expression, couple with the throb of the bite mark caused her shackles to rise.

"I don't care, I'll put them together myself."

How hard could it be, really ? There were plenty of videos on youtube that explained how to change wheels, and this was exactly what she would do. A little hands-on experience could only be good for a woman who had never suffered a flat tyre in her life. Hannibal seemed unconvinced, but she knew the underlying reason of his reluctance.

"It is a difficult task, my beautiful."

Of course, he wouldn't breach the subject unless she did herself. Hannibal's habit to keep secrets would probably never abate. Frances smiled, a dangerous, feral smile, and proceeded to approach her husband on all fours, invading his personal space. Hannibal didn't recline, waiting for her face to stand a few inches from his. He remained still as a statue when she kissed his lips and retreated, golden flecks dancing in her eyes, muscles playing under her soft skin.

"Let's stop pretending this is about the tyres, husband. I'm young but hardly stupid."

A battle of wills ensued, where neither of them wanted to back down. Yes, he didn't want to breach that subject. There would be no control if he did. And so, Frances played his game. She rose from the bathtub, stark naked. The silence only thickened when her long legs sloshed in the water.

"Are you sure you want to see Will ?", Hannibal eventually asked.

He was hoping she would tense. Given her stunt in Stromboli, nearly dying at the bottom of the sea, the psychiatrist didn't feel too confident to let her go. But Frances only grabbed a towel and enveloped her delicious body in its fluffy folds, facing away from him. Ah, she didn't dare meeting his gaze. Little victories… Still, her mind was set. And Hannibal knew all too well what it meant.

"He's my brother. And the second to last person I have in the world. I'm not ready to let him go."

Hannibal sighed.

Am I not enough ?

The cry from his heart - the wound of abandonment – wouldn't hold her. As a psychiatrist, he knew that hole came from his childhood trauma. That no one, nothing could ever fill that dark bottomless well. That it was plain stupid and manipulative to try to cut Frances from her last anchor, to ask for her to forsake her brother for him.

Yet… he couldn't help but wish she was his alone. His to mould and shape, like a good wholegrain bread, or the top layer of his galette. But she knew it too. The naïve young woman was informed, now. She had read much of his library, soaking psychology like a sponge. Researching him.

The psychiatrist pulled the plug of the bathtub. There was nothing much to do. By bowing to his wife's conditions, he had abandoned the opportunity to get Will to see and accept him. Will Graham, the empath, would never know what he was. Never touch its greatness. Yet… he was bestowing his affection freely to a former comrade, Tristan. Twisted brother in arms. It wasn't enough, though. Because Will would never know who he was, deep within. Frances was the only one who could. And to handle it, she needed her brother's support.

Galahad' light kept her from drowning in his darkness. So be it.

Frances blew a raspberry as she turned into Will's lane, the few inches of snow packing under her winter tyres. Her whole body was sore. From her fight with Hannibal, sure. But even more from the morning struggle, fingers frozen as she endeavoured to replace those blasted wheels. How hard could it be ? Well, much harder than she thought.

It was only her sheer stubbornness that had prevented her from renouncing. She couldn't afford Hannibal to be right… She had unleashed her anger and rage at the wheels, jumping on the spanner with both feet, yelling at the sky to undo those horribly tight screws. Her ankle was slightly sprained now, the left one. Skating, unfortunately, created strong knees and weak ankles. But neither the wince when she pushed on the clutch, nor the amount of snow that her little car faced could prevent her from talking to Will.

There was a gap…no, a chasm that size of the Colorado Canyon to breach between them. While in Italy, the scarce communication between them could be attributed to the jet lag. Of course, none of them believed in such a poor excuse, but it worked for the duration of their honeymoon. No more. Frances wanted to be part of his life. To greet his child into the world, to see the smile on his face when he became a father.

The characteristic crunch of snow greeted her ears when slowly came to a stop in front of Will's little house in Wolf Trap. It had been a while she had seen that amount of fresh snow outside of a ski resort, and the young woman smiled. She took a deep breath, hoping to gather her wits before she faced her friend. But of course, the dogs weren't of the same mind as a concert of barks announced her arrival.

Frances pushed her door, and let her boots taste the blanket of fresh snow.

Brace for impact.

Will's sharp whistle, coming from the porch, didn't deter his mutts from assaulting her merrily. She and the dogs were good friends now. For a moment, her life became a flurry of tail wagging and snowy paws. Unwillingly, they pushed Will to leave his safe haven to come and greet her. For he couldn't ignore whose car had, at last, chosen to stop in front of his house.

"Winston !"

The sharp rebuke caused the dog to join his master, tail low between his legs, panting all the same. Will glared at his most recent adoptee before his eyes, clear like a mountain stream, locked with Frances.

"Hey", she shyly told him, petting a big dark dog that was licking her hand.

"Hey", he responded, ill at ease.

But his eyes didn't back down, and her smile widened.

"I brought some galette."

"What ?"

The confused quip caused her to laugh outright.

"The traditional French cake for King's day. I'll show you."

And Frances took the half eaten cake out of her care, fidgeting a little when she saw that Will was still frozen in place.

"Alana is all right ?"

Will blinked, his gaze returning to the ground and its disturbed snow.

"Yeah. Yeah. You… want to come in ?"

Frances exhaled slowly to calm her racing heart.

"Only if I'm not disturbing. If not, I can leave."

The subsequent silence caused them both to tense, and the young woman was about to backpedal when the noise of the front door interrupted the guilt fest. Alana, rounded like an inflated balloon, stood under the porch. Frances' eyes widened; how much could that woman's stomach grow before she exploded altogether ? Despite the pang of sadness that came with her situation, she couldn't help but feel relieved that she wasn't carrying a watermelon in her belly.

Alana's blue eyes settled on her, and she motioned forward.

"Oh hey, Frances ! Come in, I've got some tea for when Hannibal visits."

What else could she do ? The young woman smiled, and brandished her half galette.

"And I've got cake."

"Yummy."

It didn't take long – a hug, and five minutes to boil some water – before Frances unwrapped the Galette for Will and Alana. While they talked about her advancing pregnancy, and the plans for their daughter's birth, Frances detailed Will's interior. It was much neater than she remembered, and she could spot easily how Alana's presence had filled the place with love, life and feminine touches. And very soon, a little bundle of joy sharing their features would invade it with its joys and cries.

"What's that ?"

Interrupting her assessment, Frances squinted to follow Alana's look. There, in the middle of the galette, her half-eaten heart had been adorned with more lines. Her eyes widened as she muffled a squeak. Hannibal had transformed the half heart shape into a skull. It was an artful sketch, one of revenge and payback, but she couldn't help but admire his skill. And that he had managed to keep it from her altogether.

"Is that a skull ?", Will asked, looking a little pale.

Frances blanched; this was more than payback. It was a message to Will. That she came to interrogate him with a symbol of death. That bastard of a husband was addressing the elephant in the room, sending them both on edge. So she forced herself to laugh, and decided to pain a merry picture of their previous day. Her mimicks and idiocies eventually drew Alana to tears as she recounted, awaiting for Hannibal's back to be turned, how she had carved a heart in the middle of his precious galette. Of course, there was no mention of the subsequent fight and brutal make out session.

"I can see his face just right.", Alana chuckled, cutting up pieces of the cake.

"Yeah, those pursed lips."

The mother to be nodded, biting her lip to refrain from laughing again.

"Yes. He sometimes looked at me like that when I said something stupid, or when he corrected my essays."

Both women chuckled, Frances realising that she was younger than Alana, who had been Hannibal's favourite student. Damn. She wondered how Alana felt about it…

"Well, you're keeping him on his toes.", she said.

Frances held up her plate; she was a sucker for galette. And this one held a particular significance. Irony of the day, it was Will who almost lost a tooth when he bit into the lucky charm.

"Oï! Did you insert rocks in this ?", he exclaimed, extracting a ceramic figure of Jesus from his mouth.

Frances chuckled, stunned that, out of the numerous pieces that had been eaten, the blessing would befall Will after all. She took it a sign that everything was possible.

"Oh ! You're the King for the day. We didn't find it in our half."

"Lucky me", he grumbled.

"Aren't you all sunshine and roses today", Alana frowned.

Aghast, Will sent her a look that held much meaning. For a moment, Frances wondered if Alana knew what brewed between them. The woman was far from stupid after all; hence Hannibal's choice to mentor her.

"Will. I think you and Frances could walk the dogs this afternoon. I'm going to take a nap, and you'll wear them down, right ?"

Yes. Far from stupid.

Will gave Frances an assessing look. One laden with too many emotions to sort them out on the spot. There was doubt, for sure. Guilt, and the distinct feeling that he didn't want to be there. On the other hand, this needed to be done. Whether they parted ways forever, or mended the gap was up to them. And Alana knew it.

So, they both donned their coats and scarfs, gloves and snow boots, and darted outside without a single word exchanged. Like a set of automats heading to dismantlement. As Will closed the door of his little wooden house, Alana shouted.

"Just get back before dark."

The empath seemed to brighten at that, and blew her a kiss.

"Sure, love you."

Frances smiled; Alana had provided her with the perfect approach. So, without a pause, she started asking about the baby, and the room they had prepared upstairs. She was working on an embroidered blanket at the moment, a fluffy organic cotton cloth that made her life difficult. But it was getting good !

Surprised, but not unhappy, Will started talking of his little one to come. His face animated, his features relaxed, and his eyes twinkled with impatience as he explained how, when his hand ghosted over Alana's belly, his daughter already came in for a hug.

The dogs were running back and forth in the snow and the sun had decided to peek in between white clouds. The wind was but a breeze, leaving behind the perfect day to be outdoors. Wrapped in a scarf that smelt of Hannibal's coat – it literally lived in the entrance, beside his heavy burberry – Frances watched, fascinated, the impossible extend of fresh snow that crunched between their boots. She fuelled Will's pauses with questions, calling for fond memories and a recollection of Alana's weird cravings as she carried their first child.

At last, her empath friend seemed to have shed most of his fears, and Frances braced for impact. It was time to let him know…

"See, it wasn't so difficult to talk to me again", she playfully quipped.

Will stiffened by her side, and she refrained from searching his face to give him enough space. But the empath wasn't ready to address the issue. So, taking a deep breath, Frances did.

"I know, Will…"

He paused, frozen in place. Wondering what she actually knew. And the answer was quick to come.

"I know what happened to Scarlett Fever."

Clear blue eyes searched for hers, and the young woman returned his shocked look with a reassuring one.

"You know", his voice wavered.

Frances nodded. A spark of anger suddenly came alive in his gaze.

"Hannibal told you ?"

To goad me, yes. But she couldn't possibly reveal what a master manipulator her husband was, right ? So, it was without a second thought that she protected him, again. The man who had bruised her so badly, bitten her shoulder, and tried to corrupt her at every turn. The man she loved…

"Yes and no. It's complicated, and irrelevant right now. I wish you trusted me enough to talk to me, Will."

The empath started walking anew, and Frances decided to come closer, and grab his arm. For a while, Will was silent, until her blurted out:

"Even about me killing someone else ?"

The young woman pondered on his words; she had made her peace about Freddie Lounds' death. And if there was someone responsible for this whole fiasco, the blame could only reside with her husband. Hannibal had scrambled Will's brains so badly that he was barely recovered at the time of the Red Dragon's attacks. Yes, a woman had died. Yes, by his hand, after putting them all in danger without consideration for their life.

Did she deserve to die ? No. To be emprisonned for her crimes ? Yes, surely. Freddie had caused people to lose their jobs, and put others in danger without shame. At least, she wouldn't hurt anyone else now. Frances mulled over her response for a moment, watching the dogs roll about in the snow.

"I'm not saying Freddie deserved it. But I feel better knowing she won't be attacking any of us anymore. I understand why you did it."

"You shouldn't."

His voice dripped with self-loathing, and Frances suddenly lost it. Grabbing his upper arms in a tight grip, she shook him with such force that Will started.

"Damn it, Will ! I killed Tobias to protect Hannibal. I am no innocent. What do you think of me, uh ?"

As he soaked in her words, Will's face started to morph. His jaw unclenched, his features relaxing just enough for Frances to feel like he was starting to understand her.

"I… I respect you. You are a guardian, you protect."

She dropped one of her hands, but not the other that squeezed his heavy earth brown vest. The contrast with her long woolen Victorian coat was rather odd over the immaculate snow. But no contrast could be more impressive than the light blue of his eyes compared to the darker shade of the sky. And for once, he was looking straight at her. Circling his shoulders, she hugged him fiercely.

"So do I. You're my brother, and I love you, and I'd do anything to protect you. No matter what."

Will was frozen in place. And suddenly, he realised Frances' frame was shaking around him. He pulled away, worried, only to see tears running down her cheeks.

"Frances."

The young woman smiled.

"I missed you, you idiot."

Touched, the empath could feel all that love, and her fears pouring over to his heart. He took a deep breath, and decided to lead Frances away from her state her mind to reign in his own emotions.

"What, you didn't enjoy your honeymoon ? I thought newlyweds didn't have much time to think about anything else…"

"Don't get me wrong. Hannibal, naked, is a glorious sight."

Will grimaced, this time; he didn't want to imagine the psychiatrist in bed with his sister. Ugh !

"Wrong image here !"

"Sorry", she chuckled. "You know what being married means, right."

"I don't want to know. And he's old."

Her laughter, so carefree, got lost in the breeze, and Will realised just how much he had missed her. To say the past year had been difficult was an understatement; the fear of rejection, the guilt of his actions had almost eaten him away. Fortunately, the arrival of that baby set things straight; there was one, big priority in his life now.

"Very well preserved, I tell ya. I've seen thirty years old less…"

Will suddenly lifted his arms to the sky and yelled.

"Stop, I beg you. STOP !"

The dogs froze for a moment, then, seeing the young woman laughing, and their master chuckling all the same, they resumed their trek in the snow.

"Anyway. Hannibal aside, I still need you in my life."

Will pursed his lips and nodded. Yes. His particularities ensured that he didn't have many friends outside of the office. And Frances' knowledge of his past life definitely was a perk; there were things he could only discuss with her, or Hannibal.

"So do I."

A comfortable silence settled for a moment, until Frances asked:

"Does Alana know ?"

Will nodded.

"Yes. She got me to talk…"

"With oyster pliers ?"

This time, it was his turn to laugh. And he gathered a little snow, packing it into a ball to launch to Winston. The dog jumped high, his powerful jaws exploding the ball in the air and dusting his muzzle with snow. Winston sneezed, then shook his face to release the snow from his snout... before his tail started wagging anew, expecting the next throw.

Both Will and Frances shared a look, then knelt to gather snowballs, launching them haphazardly in the pack of dogs. After a mad round of firing, the empath eventually confessed:

"Nearly. Alana was worried I had a thing for you."

Frances started, her eyes wide.

"What ? She was jealous of me ? This is ridiculous, I'm very much in love with my husband."

To be truthful, he was rather sure the student Alana had had a thing for her mentor as well – never daring to make a move. But he wasn't about to apprise Frances of that fact. Alana was just afraid that the Keeper of Time would steal another man of her life right under her nose… hence her bold move on him last year.

"This is what I told her. Then she started screaming and bawling at once. It was…"

He shuddered, earning a playful slap from Frances. But she didn't know what it was to face a mother dragon. Alana may seem meek, yet she was anything but. And this rounded belly had wreaked havoc in her usual even character, causing tantrums worthy to split the earth beneath their feet.

"How did she take it ?", Frances asked, her features serious.

"Better than I thought…"

She had, actually, made him swear to never go to the police. Their family, now, was her highest priority. They had talked at length, and Will was slowly shedding the guilt of Freddie's murder, accepting that the woman had attacked his own, and he had reacted in kind. Both his talks with Hannibal and Alana were helping. Having a trained psychiatrist in the house was a perk.

"So she's not afraid I'll steal you anymore ?"

Will shook his head, his features peaceful.

"No. She knows I consider you a sister, period."

"Good. That means the four of us can keep that secret, and bury it forever."

Her tone was almost scary; but again, he knew how efficient Frances was on a battlefield. Still… was he ready to take that leap ? To accept Freddie Lounds' death, and put that fact behind him ? After all, he had shot Garrett Jacob Hobbs to protect Abigail. Did that make them a duo of killers, shileded by their own partners ? Hannibal he had protected Abigail for the murder of Nicholas Boyle… and Frances for Tobias. Who was he, in this mess ? Il Padrino ? Ridiculous; he was just the psychiatrist attached to the weapon. Just like Alana was attached to him. Yet, he didn't seem fazed to protect murderers.

"Are we becoming a mafia ?"

Frances' jaw clenched; she obviously didn't like that vision one bit.

"No, but we care for or own."

Suddenly, it wasn't his pack of dogs that Will saw in the immaculate blanket of snow, but his brothers in arms in Brittany. Huge war beasts treading through the snow, and the frozen lake where Dagonet would have fallen had Frances not saved his life.

"It sometimes feels like the fifth century all over again."

The young woman addressed him a nostalgic smile, her reddish hair shining in the afternoon sun. Funny, how Freddie's flaring curls always looked aggressive, when Frances' ringlets just gave him hope. As if light had taken residence inside her head, cascading down her back. Yes, he understood what Hannibal saw in her: life. The psychiatrist needed more warmth, she brought it to him on a silver platter.

"Well, ring me if you find a guy named Arthur", she quipped.

And both brother and sister started firing again, amusing the dogs until their legs felt like jelly, and their fingers turned blue.

So, erm. Review ?