Chapter 13

Hannibal Lecter's Residence

9:02 PM

"Oh, son of a bitch."

"There's no need for such language, Ala— Doctor Bloom." The redhead swiftly corrected herself as she plucked stray leaves from her hair. "…May I call you —?"

"No."

"Alright… Hello," she called to Delilah, her slightly husky voice taking on an intrigued lilt. "Delilah, right? That's such a pretty name. I'm Freddie Lounds. A journalist with —"

"You're just a trashy tabloid blogger with way too much time on your hands, Fredericka, and you can leave her out of this," Alana cut her off with a sneer. "You've got some nerve, prowling around people's homes in the middle of the night."

"I'm just doing my job, Doctor Bloom," she replied, throwing her gloved hands up and taking a small step to the side. Again, she tried to speak to Delilah directly. "Sounded like Agent Crawford was being his typical asshole self, Delilah — are you okay? Would you like to talk—"

Alana took one wide step to the left and another forward, effectively blocking her from Freddie's view. "She is just fine. But I don't think you'll be doing too well when Hannibal calls the police and presses charges against you for trespassing."

"Hey, it happens," Freddie said, sounding thoroughly unperturbed. "But, who knows, Doctor Lecter may not even care to press charges. You should go get him, so we can find out… I wouldn't mind getting a statement from him. What about Will Graham — is he here, too?"

"You know damn well he is. I wouldn't be surprised if you've been crouching in the bushes like a mangy animal all afternoon."

'All afternoon?'

Delilah's stomach did a flip and she leaned up on her toes to peer over her sister's shoulder. "What- uh, what do you want with Will?" She asked, trying not to let Alana's words burrow a hole of anxiety in her gut. How long had she been in those bushes, though?

Freddie's sharp lips fell into what appeared to be a frown of deep concern as she asked quietly, "How do you know Will Graham?"

When Delilah didn't immediately respond, she inhaled sharply and shook her head. "You should stay away from that man; anyone who claims to empathize with psychopathic murderers is dangerous and should be avoided at all costs."

Finding herself no longer keen to hear what she had to say, Delilah scoffed and rolled her eyes. "I think you should leave."

"No, no, please stay," Alana quickly cut in, her voice drenched in faux sweetness. "I'm dying to see you in handcuffs."

"Kinky."

Alana waved a hand dismissively and abruptly turned toward the house. "Hannibal!" She hollered, shooting Freddie a warning glare as she quick-stepped nearer to the front porch. "Hannibal, you need to come out here RIGHT NOW!"

Delilah turned, intending to follow, but the woman suddenly grabbed hold of her arm. "Wait, listen-"

"Please don't touch me."

"Sorry," she said, letting go at once. "And I'm sorry if I upset you with what I said about Will Graham, but it's true. One hundred percent. And if you think he's your friend, well… I'm sure that's a hard pill to swallow."

Deciding she would rather avoid becoming a headline for this woman's online rag, Delilah simply smiled and kept her thoughts — on precisely where Freddie could stick a hard pill — to herself. "You're just doing your job, right?"

"Right," she repeated, taking a deep breath and clearing her throat before adding gently, "Y'know, I'd suggest distancing yourself from Hannibal Lecter, too. There's something… off about him." She paused and studied Delilah's eyes for one long, remarkably uncomfortable moment. "…But I'm guessing that would be very difficult for you," she muttered. "Are you two —"

"I said leave her out of this," Alana suddenly snapped. She was back at Delilah's side, forcing herself between them again as Hannibal and Will briskly made their way down the steps and across the driveway.

"Miss Lounds?" Hannibal greeted the redhead with mildly befuddled interest. "What brings you here this evening?"

"She was creeping around in the bushes," Alana clipped before Freddie could so much as part her lips to speak, gesturing emphatically toward said foliage before crossing her arms and glowering at the woman.

"Naturally," Will immediately muttered, loud enough for all to hear, "where else would a snake be found?"

A snort of laughter escaped Alana, but neither Freddie nor Hannibal seemed entertained in the slightest.

"Thank you both for your input, but I was speaking to Miss Lounds," he gently chastised the pair, though he kept his eyes fixed on Freddie. "I'll ask again — what brings you here this evening?"

Freddie fidgeted on her feet, clearly uncomfortable. "Oh, you know, this and that," she skirted with a shrug. "Maybe a little more this than that… If it isn't one thing, it's another, you know?"

Brow knitted in confusion, Delilah casually stepped away from her sister and slowly meandered rightward; it wasn't until her shoulder brushed against the sleeve of his suit jacket that she realized she had unwittingly gravitated toward Hannibal. She started to back up at once, intending to finally retreat into the house, but Hannibal's hand was abruptly splayed firmly across the middle of her back, keeping her in place.

"Why don't you come inside and have some coffee? I'm not sure how long you've been prowling about in the andromedas but you must be freezing."

Everyone shot Hannibal varying looks of bewilderment, with Alana letting out a scoff of incredulity. "But she—"

"No thanks," Freddie swiftly replied. "Coffee sounds great and all, but I'd better get going."

"Very well."

"It was very nice meeting you," she said, pointedly looking to Delilah as she blindly rooted around in her coat pocket; she produced a very small stack of business cards and held one out. "Here's my number. If you ever want to talk about… current events or, perhaps Jack Crawford —"

"And there it is," Alana announced. "I fucking knew it. Just spit it out - what did you hear?"

"A lot of nonsense," she spat without hesitation, dropping her arm and resting her hands on her hips. "Look. If you must know, I was only following Jack Crawford. There's been radio silence from the FBI on the Sandy Point murders and I'm just doing my part to make sure our dear BSU department head is actually doing his part — which, as it turns out, he isn't."

"You have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Is that so, Doctor Bloom?" Freddie laughed humorlessly. "Rather than do his job, he's attending dinner parties with his friends… Many of whom are supposed to be his employees, no less. On top of that, it sounded to me like he's choosing to blindly point fingers at innocent people." She shot a glance at Delilah. "These are all fun facts I'm sure the people would like to know, and I'm more than happy to tell them."

"So, you followed Jack here, then? You weren't here… before he arrived?" Delilah asked before she could stop herself.

"That's right," Freddie replied, turning to eye her with thinly veiled suspicion. "Why? Something else I should know about?"

Internalizing her sigh of relief, Delilah merely smiled and shook her head. "I was just curious."

After a beat of silence, Freddie stepped forward and pushed her business card into Delilah's hand. "Hope to hear from you," she said quietly. The woman's eyes flitted upward, to where Hannibal stood, still looming with his hand pressed against her back, and she watched her swallow a minuscule lump in her throat.

"Nice seeing you all," she said, peeling her eyes away from him to look at Alana and Will. "We'll catch up soon, I'm sure." With that she turned and bustled off, her heels making loud, echoing clacks against the concrete.

Delilah vaguely wondered how she managed to move so speedily in high heels, when Alana suddenly snatched the card from her hand.

"Hey!" She exclaimed, more out of surprise than actual want for the item.

"Whatever she has to say, I'm sure we can read all about it online tomorrow," Alana grumbled, ripping the card in two and stalking back into the house.

With a sigh, Delilah bent down to pick up the scraps of card stock, then glanced back at Hannibal and Will before following after her. She trailed her sister back into the dining room, where the woman was angrily gathering dishes from the table. "Let me help," she muttered, setting the card bits on the table before taking a few glasses from her and setting them on the serving cart. They worked alone in silence for a few minutes before the men joined in and clean up duty became a collective effort.

Once the dishes were all taken care of, Delilah fished Hannibal's key from his discarded suit jacket and let herself into the pantry to return the serving cart to its proper place. She tripped yet again on her way out and grouchily yanked the door shut behind her, jumping as it slammed much louder than she'd intended. Even Hannibal startled a fraction, while Alana hissed, "Jesus fucking Christ."

"Well, that's one way to break the remarkably painful silence," Will muttered, offering a halfhearted, lopsided grin.

Delilah laughed softly and slipped the key back into Hannibal's jacket. "Sorry."

"Don't contact Freddie Lounds," Alana suddenly demanded, and Delilah blinked in surprise.

"What are you so worried about?"

"Does the term 'sensationalized journalism' mean anything to you?" She snapped, throwing her arms up in exasperation.

"So, she knows Jack suspects me in the Sandy Point murders and she writes a little blog post — so what?"

"So what?!" Alana exploded, her voice nearing pitches that would surely give Will's dogs a panic attack. "Delilah, as much as I don't understand why, people do read the trash she puts on that blog!"

"So, people read that I'm being looked into because I happened to know some people-turned-carrion. People know other people all the time and people get hacked to bits all the time — neither of which automatically makes me a viable suspect."

"… Talking like that sure might." Alana stared at her for a long moment, then sighed and roughly massaged her forehead, evidently trying to scrub away her discomfit. "You said out there that most people are pigs, right? Well, they're also sheep. This could create a mess for you and… And I just don't want you involved — in any of this."

"It's a bit late for that," Hannibal muttered matter-of-factly.

Delilah pursed her lips and gestured toward Hannibal in agreement. "And anyway, in case you weren't paying attention, she seems to believe I'm innocent — so, if anything, her interest will probably do me some good if my name ever happened to get out there otherwise."

"The only person who's name is on the line here, really, is Jack Crawford's himself," Will added, pointedly ignoring Alana's scowl of disapproval.

"Okay, you know what?" She took a deep breath and smoothed her hands over her dress. "Fine. Fine, I'll let it go. I just hope you realize what you're getting into if you choose to start making deals with the devil."

"And you call me dramatic?" Delilah mumbled, just as Will snorted loudly.

"I think you're giving Freddie way too much credit here, Alana."

"That woman is a snake, you said so yourself. Who knows what she wants with Delilah — hell, she probably just wants her to think she thinks she's innocent, so she can cash in on the book deal later."

"I didn't kill them, god damn it!" Delilah snarled, finally reaching her limits on being both stressed and frustrated. It had been a rather eventful night and she wasn't at all in the mood for yet another dip in the rollercoaster. "The bitch won't cash in on anything because there is nothing to cash in on. Jack will realize it eventually, regardless of whatever Freddie Lounds puts on her stupid fucking blog, and he'll hopefully catch whoever actually butchered those people. So, just drop it!"

"Fine!"

"Good!"

No more than five seconds of silent glowering passed between them before Hannibal cleared his throat. "Alana, would you please join me in my study for a moment? I have something to discuss with you before you leave."

"Yeah, sure," Alana grumbled, jerking her gaze away from Delilah as she stormed past and disappeared from the kitchen.

"We'll only be a moment," Hannibal assured them, tossing Delilah a quick, pleased little smile as he calmly followed her sister.

Left alone in the quiet of the kitchen, Delilah and Will shared a look before the latter picked up Hannibal's coat from the armchair and flopped down.

"Tired as always, eh?" Delilah asked, casually taking the coat from him and neatly folding it over her arms, holding it to her chest.

He nodded slowly, rubbing his hands over his forehead and twining his fingers in his hair. As she studied him, she noticed little beads of sweat were collecting at his temples. It wasn't overly warm in the room, to her at least; comfortable, but certainly not hot enough to sweat.

"… What the hell's up with you?" She bent forward and waggled a finger at the moisture sliding down his face.

"Hannibal says I have a fever," he mumbled. "S-Some kind of flu."

"Oh." Delilah crinkled her nose and shuffled backward, turning away to wander the kitchen a bit; the very last thing she wanted to do tonight was fall ill. She hoped Alana hadn't caught anything from him. "You should probably get to bed soon."

"I said go away."

She blinked and peered questioningly over her shoulder, only to find him glaring daggers at what appeared to be nothing but a random spot on the wall. As she stared, he continued hissing at the wall; mumbling things she could barely piece together. "Wha—"

"Stop confusing me!" He nearly shouted, quickly jumping up from his seat.

"…Will?"

He suddenly jerked his head to look at her and it seemed to take him a moment to comprehend what he was seeing; he shook his head rapidly and laughed a little, then cleared his throat and stuffed the erratic fit back down. "N-Nothing. It's—" he turned toward the wall again and snarled through gritted teeth, "I said shut. up."

Delilah opened her mouth to call for help when Will's eyes suddenly shot upward and bulged out of their sockets, as if seeing something massive looming just behind her, and he cried out before rushing forward to yank her toward him. She yelped in surprise as he swung her around behind himself, clearly trying to protect her from something. Her eyes rapidly scanned the spot she was just ripped from, but she saw absolutely nothing. "Dude, what the fuck?!"

"N-No— no no no," he stammered, voice quaking with fear as he staggered backward, shoving her back along with him and ducking his head as if cowing to some monstrous beast. He backed her completely into the counter and she let out a squeak as the marble bit into her lower back; wincing in pain, she dug her fingernails into his shoulder blades as she tried with all her strength to shove him away.

He refused to budge and it was scaring her; the marble digging into her spine was beginning to ache tremendously as he pushed against her harder still. "HANNIBAL!" She screamed as loud and as hard as she could, her throat burning from the effort.

Footfalls could be heard almost immediately and Hannibal appeared in the entrance. It took him less than a second to process the scene before he practically flew across the kitchen, ripping Will away from her and sending him hurtling him to the floor. He hit the tile with a remarkably loud THWACK just as Alana came skittering 'round the corner and into the room.

"What the—"

"Delilah, are you alright?" Hannibal asked urgently, turning his back on them to check her over. "Did he hurt you?"

She pried her eyes away from Will's grunting and wincing to stare up at Hannibal, floundering for words from the shock of it all. "I-I'm… no?" She said, a slight rasp to her voice; she cleared her throat gently. "He-… h-he was protecting me…"

"From what?"

"I d-don't know, he was talking to the- the wall and then just panicked."

"It was coming for her," Will muttered, still sounding harried but a touch less completely insane.

Hannibal wrapped his arms around her and soothingly caressed the back of her head, gently holding her to his chest as he turned to peer down at Will. She peeked over the crook of his elbow to find Alana crouched beside Will, gingerly helping him to his feet.

"It was coming for her," he repeated, louder this time, but now he seemed to be questioning himself. "I saw it… It was reaching for—" Suddenly, he stopped himself and took a deep, shuddering breath, straightening out his shirt before absently cradling the arm he'd fallen on when Hannibal threw him. "I'm sorry," he said, appearing lucid now. "I must have fallen asleep."

"You sure as hell seemed awake to me," Delilah said quietly, not budging from the safety of Hannibal's arms. She watched as Will's tired eyes drifted from her face to Hannibal's, and his eyes widened a fraction before he scrubbed at his face with such intensity that it made her own eyes ache.

"What was coming for her?" Alana asked impatiently. "What did you see?"

"N-Nothing." He shook his head and smiled sadly at them all. "I'm so sorry. Guess I have some sort of flu and the fever just got to me… I-I've been having issues with sleepwalking, too. That's… why I thought maybe I f-fell asleep…"

Alana let out a perturbed huff and shook her head. "That's it, I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No!" He all but shouted at her, causing everyone to raise their eyebrows at him. With a sheepish scratch at his cheek, he cleared his throat and lowered his voice. "I just… I'll be okay. Just need to rest… and maybe stay away from people for a while."

"I'll be sure to call Jack tonight and tell him to give you a break," Hannibal said, giving Delilah an infinitesimal squeeze before letting go and stepping toward Alana. "Please call me when you arrive in Wolf Trap — or before, if anything happens. I'll see to it that Delilah is taken care of."

"Of course. Thank you, Hannibal."

He simply nodded, then turned to Will. "Should you feel worse tomorrow, I expect to know about it. Is your arm alright?"

"A little sore, but I'm fine… Nice form, by the way," he added with a weak smile.

Hannibal chuckled lightly. "A damsel in distress tends to bring out the chivalrous knight in us all, does it not?"

With a sharp exhale out his nose, Will nodded once before glancing over to Delilah. "Again, I'm really sorry."

"I know, Graham," she said with a sigh, offering him a small smile to assure him that she was alright; the exhausted puppy dog look in his eyes made it tough to even stay annoyed with him for very long. "Go get some sleep, and make sure to stay hydrated."

He nodded and slowly trudged out of the room.

"See you later," Alana said, nodding to Delilah before following after Will.

Neither Hannibal nor Delilah moved a muscle as they both listened to the steady retreat of footfalls, followed by a short stint of quiet shuffling — presumably as they gathered their belongings — then a dull thud as the front door was pulled shut behind them.

Hannibal looked to the floor and scooped up his suit jacket, turning to toss Delilah a questioning glance.

"I was holding it while we waited for you to come back; dropped it when he freaked out."

"Ah," was all he said, carefully laying the garment upon the kitchen island before turning to approach her. He paused a foot away, holding his arms open for her, and she quickly snugged herself against him, shutting her eyes as she pressed her cheek to his chest.

He folded his arms around her and she shivered as his warmth seeped into her skin. "I hope he's going to be alright," she whispered. "Hallucinating so extremely from a fever seems like a pretty serious side effect of the flu…"

Hannibal merely hummed and whether it was in agreement or contemplation she wasn't entirely sure, but the rumbling of it in his chest sent tingles down her spine.

"Should I be worried about Alana?"

Tucking his chin to his chest, he took in a steady breath and exhaled slowly into her hair. "I don't think so," he finally murmured, his lips brushing lightly against the top of her head. "Regardless, whatever happens, Alana can handle herself."

"Oh, and I can't?" She asked, feigning offense as she tilted her head back and craned her neck to look up at him. "Such a delicate little damsel I am that I need a big, strong man to wrap me in his arms and keep me safe?"

Hannibal peered down at her for a long moment, a ghost of a smile playing across his lips. He canted his head and began lazily raking his fingers through her hair, studying her face before letting out a soft sigh. "Such a pretty pout," he mused, skirting his thumb across her bottom lip; she slipped her tongue out to taste his skin as it passed and in an instant his mouth was upon hers.

She hummed in contentment as she welcomed his skilled tongue past her lips, enjoying the lingering hints of coffee and burnt sugar as she allowed him to muscle her backward. They staggered in tandem out of the kitchen, her hands gripping and caressing him any and everywhere she could manage, whilst his own reached out blindly around them both to avoid knocking her into anything.

When they finally managed to meander their way out and up to the top of the staircase, she haphazardly began to tug at his tie and he allowed it for a few more stumbling paces before gently shoving her hands away and pulling back to grin down at her.

He slipped loose the knot with one hand and tugged the tie over his head with ease as he reached around behind her with the other, pressing her heavily into the door as he twisted the knob and pushed it open. She yelped as she lost her balance and teetered backward into the room, but he caught her by the elbow just in time and simply cocked a devilish brow at her as she shot him a nasty look.

"Trust is learned," he said softly. "Know that I will always catch you."

Delilah squinted up at him for a long moment, then huffed lightly and rolled her eyes as she turned to assess her new surroundings.

Through the soft light of a couple table lamps, she found Hannibal's bedroom to be as lush and elegantly crafted as she had come to expect; it was cozy, yet very orderly and impeccably clean, and she absently wondered if he had a secret room somewhere, where he threw all the things people didn't need to see — like the hallway closet she and Alana always crammed excess clutter into when they knew company was on its way.

Slipping out of her heels and setting them neatly aside, she watched Hannibal out the corner of her eye as he removed his shoes as well and crossed to the fireplace, laying his tie over a nearby chair; he grabbed a small remote from the mantle of the massive hearth, pressed a couple buttons, and it was set ablaze at once.

He glanced over his shoulder and chuckled softly. "Electric," he said as he set the remote back down, answering the unspoken question that was clearly written on her face.

"Mm, neat," she muttered, not really caring about the fireplace. He started toward her as he slowly unbuttoned his dress shirt and she cleared her throat softly. "Here," she said, swiftly bridging the gap between them, "let me help."

"Feeling impatient?" He teased, smirking down at her as she unbuttoned the garment and began shoving it off his broad shoulders at once. That grin should infuriate her, but it only served to send the butterflies in her stomach into a tizzy.

"And what if I am?" She replied evenly, skirting her palms across his midsection to grip at his undershirt and tug it up out of his slacks. "You've made me wait entirely long enough, you know."

"Is that so?"

"Absolutely."

The deeply amused smile never left his lips as he slowly tugged the shirt off and proceeded to fold it rather than simply toss it aside — and now it began to irritate her. Her fingers danced impatiently toward his belt buckle and her lips twisted into a wicked grin as a particularly delicious idea suddenly came to mind.

…

As he watched the corners of her lips curl upward, Hannibal canted his head and blinked bemusedly. He opened his mouth to ask, but found himself rendered quite speechless when she then dropped delicately to her knees before him; the undershirt he had been using to toy with her was fast forgotten and he immediately let it drop to the floor.

Wasting no time, now that she had his full attention, Delilah began tugging at his belt with such fervor that he would have laughed had he not been so eager, himself — it was quite a sight to behold, and better still once she had freed him from the confines of his slacks. She licked her lips, sending a shock of desire straight to his pelvis as she stared and seemed to deliberate on how to begin.

Adjusting his footing to keep himself steady, he threaded the fingers of one hand through her curls and gently guided her mouth forward. Those plump, painfully gorgeous lips of hers were stunning to witness wrapped around him, and he groaned as the warmth of her mouth gradually welcomed him an inch or so inside. The urge to simply shove her head down onto him completely was nearly overwhelming, but he forced himself to refrain. She took care with him; getting to know his length and girth; trying different, tantalizing little things with her tongue; and all the while she would stare up at him with those sweet doe eyes, soaking in every twitch and gasp of his with rapt attention.

It didn't take her long at all to discover just how he liked it. With her index finger and thumb squeezing firmly around the base, she began guiding him farther and farther down her throat — allowing the head to knock past her uvula and still farther down he went — and he marveled at her as he felt her tonsils press perfectly snug against him.

When her lips eventually met her fingers, she moaned low and deep in her throat and Hannibal let out a startled gasp, the hand in her hair gripping tighter to her curls. He felt her grin smugly around him before she slowly began to ease back, applying suction in steadily increasing increments as she leaned farther and farther away. He let go of her hair as she fully released him with an obscene pop! — then went right back to it before he could so much as think of a word with which to protest.

Not that he wanted her to stop… but the constant, blissful assault of her mouth was threatening to propel him over the edge much sooner than he would prefer; before he knew it, he was an absolute mess of gasps and groans as she grew accustomed to him invading her throat. She was able to move faster and with more efficiency now — applying suction at times he wasn't entirely sure were humanly possible.

With her free hand latched onto his thigh for stability's sake, she simply moaned in clear understanding of his predicament and swiftly redoubled her efforts. The tenuous grip he had on his self-control vanished at once and he couldn't stop himself from gripping the back of her head, with both hands, to shove her down onto him — hard.

…

Delilah let out a muffled yelp of surprise and dug her fingernails into his skin, trying to concentrate on not panicking as her nose was obstructed and breathing was fast becoming an issue. But as quickly as he'd slammed her down, he was yanking her back up to her feet entirely by her hair. She hissed in pain, then moaned deliriously as he wrapped an arm around her waist and crashed his lips against hers. He was almost manic in his movements, his hands everywhere at once, and soon she found herself flipped around to face the bed.

Sinking his teeth into the tender spot between her neck and shoulder, she cried out as he forced her dress to the floor and filled his hands with her breasts, giving them a brief massage as he kissed and licked at her neck before whipping her back around to face him.

The darkness in his eyes was intoxicating and her fingers dove into his hair as she threw herself into his arms, taking control as best she could as she sought to taste his lips again. Pennies coated her tongue and she knew she must be bleeding from him — again — but she couldn't care less. She moaned at the taste and he growled into her mouth in response, his hands ripping blindly at her underwear and reducing the delicate lace to tatters.

His hand was suddenly on her throat and he guided her back onto the bed, pressing her down into the plush duvet before letting go and stepping back to hastily kick out of the rest of his own clothes.

Shuffling to the center of the bed, she watched him pull a condom from the nightstand as her hand instinctively skirted down to tend to the ache between her thighs. He tutted softly as he made quick work of slipping the condom on, then snatched both her wrists, pinning them to the pillows beside her head as he situated himself between her legs. She whined with need as his head just barely brushed against her slick folds and her hips twitched beneath him.

"Please, Hannibal," she pleaded softly, to which he chuckled wickedly in her ear.

"Mm?" He hummed, teasing his hips a little lower. "Tell me what you want."

"I-I want you, god damn it," she whined, her hands flexing repeatedly with her desire to paw at him and force him inside of her. "God, please…"

"I do love hearing you beg." His hips moved lower still, but he slid no more than an inch inside of her before retreating again.

"You're killing me," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Just fuck me, you son of a—"

Hannibal caught her lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing her moans and gasps as he teased his way further inside before finally snapping his hips down and forward to fill her completely.

As he did, he released her wrists and she was free to claw at his back as hard as she pleased. Digging her nails into his shoulder blades, she raked them across his skin as she cried out for him to fuck her harder, and he complied without the slightest hesitation; he suddenly straightened up to grab hold of her thighs, then hooked her knees over his shoulders and leaned forward again, causing her to gasp and scream his name as the new angle let him find the perfect spot that sent her careening over the edge.

Hannibal lowered her legs and slowed his thrusts as she came back down, but he didn't stop, and she let out a strangled sob as he kissed her with enough passion to make the erratic thrumming of her heart skip itself steady. He tenderly brushed a few unruly curls from her face and wiped moisture from her cheek.

"Have I hurt you?" He asked huskily and she smiled as she shook her head.

"Yes," she replied, biting back a laugh at the immediate confusion etched on his face, "but I love it. Don't stop."

He blinked once at her and something incomprehensible flashed in his eyes before his lips curled up into a deeply satisfied smile and he kissed her breathless again. His hips kept a steady rhythm all the while and soon her own began to follow suit; they moved as one and she vaguely comprehended that this wasn't just wanton fucking anymore — he was making love to her.

The realization brought the butterflies back in full force and in an effort to ignore them she pushed a hand into his hair and yanked him down for another kiss as she flexed her Kegel muscles around him. He groaned into her mouth and his hips stuttered before they began snapping harder against hers again. She squeezed her legs tight around his waist and met each thrust with as much enthusiasm as her exhausted body would allow; soon enough, it was his turn to cry out her name amidst a slew of profanities and she came a final time along with him.

Somewhere along the I-95 South

Approx. 10:30PM

After forty minutes or so of feeling steadily crushed by the all-encompassing weight of the silence in the cabin, Alana finally let out a sigh and reached for the radio. As the top 40's hits seeped from the speakers at a low volume, she heard Will exhale loudly and mutter, "Oh, thank god."

"If you wanted music, you could have said something."

Will sniffed lightly and she caught him shrug out the corner of her eye. "Thought you wanted it quiet."

"I thought you wanted it quiet," she muttered with a halfhearted snort. He laughed lightly but didn't speak again and she cleared her throat. "So, uh, do you want to talk about—"

"No."

"Okay…"

He suddenly rubbed his face vigorously and let out a violent exhale. "Look, I'm sorry, but I'd rather not casually discuss how I'm progressively losing my mind just to pass the time."

"Does Jack know what's been going on with you?"

"No- …Well, I don't know."

"How do you not know?" She asked, a bit more incredulously than intended.

"Well, I don't know what Hannibal's said about me, but I haven't told him anything he doesn't need to know. It hasn't effected my ability to do my job—"

"Yet."

"Whatever."

Gripping the steering wheel tight enough to whiten her knuckles, Alana took a deep breath to keep her temper steady. "You're having hallucinations… Sleepwalking… Don't you think he needs to know?"

"Well Hannibal claimed he'd tell Jack to get off my back — that should be enough, shouldn't it?"

"… He claimed?" She repeated, puzzled. When he didn't respond, she chanced a sideways glance at him but he was studiously avoiding eye contact, as always. "Don't you trust Doctor Lecter?"

"After what I saw— I-I don't know who I can trust anymore. I can barely trust myself."

"What—"

"Never mind, Alana."

Alana huffed and smacked the wheel before gripping it tighter again, cursing under her breath as she realized she was going to miss their exit. "God damn it, Will!" She snapped, scowling into the rear and side-view mirrors before wrenching the steering wheel to the right, to cut clear across three lanes of traffic, and whipping onto the off-ramp just in time. "What the hell is going on with you?"

"Jesus, what the hell's going on with you?!" He snarled back, his hands gripping the dash for dear life.

"Oh shut up. Heaven forbid I miss the exit and you have to spend an extra twenty minutes in this car with me!"

"What? Alana—"

"Never mind, Will."

"Okay, now you're being ridiculous."

"Oh, am I?" She all but shrieked, shooting a nasty look to a disgruntled passer-by. "I'm so tired of all this bullshit. Why the fuck does everyone feel the need to keep secrets around here, huh? We're friends, Will. At least, I thought we were—"

"We are!"

"Then why are you shutting me out?!"

Even the music couldn't help lessen the impact of the silence that punctuated the cabin for the remainder of the drive. Will refused to reply and Alana was too exhausted to argue anymore. They sped past his discarded Volvo again and she fully expected him to hop out of the car the moment they stopped, but he stayed put. Slowly, she put the car in park and let go of the wheel, flexing her hands to soothe her aching knuckles. When he still didn't budge, she killed the engine and turned to face him. "Are we gonna sit here all night or what?"

Refusing to meet her eyes, he kept his gaze on the barn in the distance. "I'm s-sorry," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm just… I can't explain it. I don't know how to—"

"You can try."

Will pursed his lips and shook his head. "D-Do you want to come inside for a minute? I can make coffee or… tea, or something."

She stared at him long enough for his weary eyes to finally make their way to hers and her heart squeezed. He looked so run-down, so thoroughly exhausted, she wished she could read his mind — if only for a moment — and know what exactly he was struggling with.

"Tea sounds great," she eventually replied.

One corner of his mouth pulled upward for just a fraction of a second, before he was suddenly removing himself from the vehicle. She blinked as she watched him hurry around the car and, rather than wait for her, he simply made a beeline for the front door. Sighing heavily, she yanked the key out of the ignition and followed after him.

She took the steps slowly, passing the threshold and shutting the door behind herself. Gentle clinking could be heard from the kitchen, so she tentatively followed the sounds. She found Will moving almost mechanically around the kitchen, filling two cups with water from the tap and placing them in the microwave.

"Will?"

He froze, but didn't turn, and whispered shakily, "Can y-… W-Would you stay with me tonight? Not in any sort of… way. I just— I am… afraid… to be alone."

Alana inhaled sharply and swallowed the lump of nerves that had suddenly gathered in her throat. "Of course. But—"

"But?" The microwave beeped and he jammed his thumb onto the button to open it, but stayed otherwise still.

"But I need you to explain. Hannibal is my sister's psychiatrist; she's alone with him at least once a week. And I trusted him to get her home safely tonight. If you have concerns about him… Will?" He finally twisted around to face her and she dipped her head to catch his eye. "Will," she repeated firmly, "I need to know."

For several minutes, they stayed firmly entwined and all Delilah could hear was their labored breaths and the gradual steadying of their hearts; with the warmth and weight of Hannibal pressing down on her, she very nearly fell asleep. Before she could fully drift off, however, he suddenly shifted his weight to his arms and hoisted himself up; she groaned softly at the lack of contact as he slipped out from between her legs and cracked one eye open to watch him disappear into the connected bathroom.

Yawning softly, Delilah stretched out her legs and winced at the ache already presenting itself in her hips and thighs. It'd been quite a while since she'd been essentially folded in half and her body was retroactively protesting.

"Are you alright?" Hannibal called, leaning half out to check on her.

"Mm-hm. Not entirely sure I'll be able to walk straight anytime soon, but I'm alive," she replied, shutting her eyes again and grinning as she listened to his soft chuckles.

A chill swept over her naked body and she grumbled in annoyance before rolling off the bed to stand on dangerously shaky legs. Tugging the bedclothes down, she quickly slipped beneath them and ensconced herself within the soft linens, claiming the right side of the bed as her own for the foreseeable future. Just as she was nearly ready to fall asleep again, a ringing sounded from somewhere downstairs and she peeked over her shoulder to watch Hannibal slip into a pair of boxers; he crossed to give her a kiss on the forehead and bade her to sleep, then left to answer the phone.

"Don't have to tell me twice," she murmured around another yawn, tugging the duvet more snug around her shoulders before sinking into the pillow and finally tumbling headfirst into dreamland.

…

Delilah's gentle snores followed Hannibal as he made his way barefoot down the stairs, and despite his best efforts he could not force the pervasive smile away from his face. It was clearly audible in his tone even when he answered the phone with a proper, yet succinct, "Good evening, Doctor Lecter speaking."

"Wow, you're in a good mood," Alana answered, her voice hardly above a whisper.

"Yes. May I ask why you're hissing at me?"

"Will's asleep and I don't want to disturb him."

"Oh good, he needs rest. I'm pleased to know you arrived safely; if anything happens, do let me—"

"No, wait!" Alana snapped, letting out an exasperated huff. He could hear shuffling and the quick tapping of her feet then, before a door was swiftly opened and closed. She was evidently outside now, as she spoke much more audibly when she finally continued. "Listen, someone needs to convince Will to go to the hospital. I think he actually is losing his mind."

Hannibal quirked a brow and leaned back against the bannister, intrigued. "Oh?"

"Yes. He-… He told me he saw a dark creature in your kitchen tonight and that's why he panicked. Said it was coming for Delilah and he had to protect her."

"How noble of him."

"It's sweet, but he also mentioned offhandedly that he was concerned about…"

Tamping down an annoyed sigh, Hannibal straightened up and cocked his head, silently willing her to spit it out. When she hesitated still, he cleared his throat pointedly and asked, "About…?"

"A-About you."

He found himself mildly surprised, at first, but figured it was bound to happen eventually. "And what about me concerns him?"

Another pregnant silence followed and Hannibal was thoroughly losing his patience. "Alana, I would like to get some sleep tonight…"

"I-I know. I'm sorry. He just said he had good reason not to trust you anymore. When I asked him what his reasoning was, he wouldn't say. He just started muttering to himself and he said something about, 'finally starting to catch glimpses of the man behind the curtain.' …and then he fell asleep."

"Babbling about The Wizard of Oz, now? How quaint." He snorted lightly and shifted the phone to his other ear. "Alana, Will is a very sick man. My hope is that some solid rest will help him kick this flu. But if he is still hallucinating tomorrow, we may need more forceful persuasion."

"Are you suggesting we have him committed?"

"To a hospital bed and an IV, perhaps. Alana, he is as sane as you and me — he's just having a difficult time right now. Perhaps if I can persuade Jack to keep him from work, he will be more inclined to take better care of himself moving forward."

"A-Alright."

"Will you be staying with him?"

"I- well, yes, I'd planned—"

"Good. Your presence seems to have a positive effect — he's finally getting some sleep, at the very least." She didn't respond, but he could nearly feel her cheeks flush through the phone. "Try to get some rest, yourself, Alana."

"I will."

"Very good. You should also know that Delilah is staying the night here. She was rather shaken by the entire ordeal, and quite exhausted, so I set her up in my guest bedroom. I haven't had a chance to tell her about the paperwork."

"Oh I'm sure she'll be thrilled," Alana grumbled, and he rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I imagine the knowledge that she can begin to rebuild a life on her own and won't have to be a bother to you any longer will be quite thrilling."

"She's not a bother!"

"Whether she is or isn't does not change how she feels. Remember that you tried your best, but this will be better for both of you. Good night, Alana."

"…Night, Hannibal. Thank you."

Hanging up, Hannibal checked the front door and locked the deadbolt, then found Jack Crawford's number in his contact list and left him a quick voicemail regarding Will's present condition. Though he did his part in strongly advising that Jack leave him be, for at least a few days, he highly doubted the man would heed his suggestion — not that it mattered much to him.

Taking one last look at the table setting he had taken such care to piece together for her, he opted to leave disassembly for the morning and shut off the light before making his way back up the steps. Given he was so used to the silence of his home at this hour, he thought the presence of her there, sound asleep in his bed, should have annoyed him. But it didn't. Far from it, even, he found her gentle snores and sighs as oddly soothing as he had the day she'd fallen asleep in his car.

After darkening the room, Hannibal paused at the right side of the bed to watch her for a long moment, his hand reaching out to brush a curl from her face; she hummed sweetly in her sleep, her face tilting infinitesimally toward his palm. He slipped beneath the covers at her side and all it took to bring her into his arms was a gentle nudge to her lower back; she breathed his name around a sigh and as he pulled her tighter to himself, some voice in the back of his mind protested…

Was he letting her too close, too soon?

And if so — if everything fell apart — was he still willing to do what was necessary?

If he was being completely honest with himself, it was never really a question — he would kill her, if ever the need arose, and it would be all too easy. For once, however, Hannibal found himself adamantly hoping that such a need would never, ever present itself.