You Are Now Entering Gate #12

YOU ARE NOW ENTERING GATE #12
chapter five

"And *that*, my friend, is why you wear a helmet when riding a motorcycle on the highway. Better use the cookie spatula on that one. See if you can keep the brains separate from the eyes." Jack gave Will a good natured, bruising pat on his back. Will stared at the gory scene with a sickening well in the pit of his stomach, the slushy highway wreaking havoc on his ability to scoop up what remains he could and bag them. As the coroner's assistant, which Will had been for the past twenty years, it was his job to bag and tag, making sure all remains were picked up and brought back to the basement examining room at the Maryland Hospital. Jack Crawford, being the local medical examiner, would go over the initial findings and the remains and it was his report that was the last word on cause of death. In this case it was fairly obvious--Massive force trauma to the head, or what was left of it. Will grimly set to work, using an actual kitchen spatula to shovel pieces of bone and grey matter into a clear, labelled baggie.

His disposable white onesie kept getting splattered with slush, and he was now soaked up to his knees, the thick paper sticking to his jeans beneath it like wet tissue. Jack was busy chatting with one of the traffic cops who'd arrived first at the scene, the other three bodies in the small cruiser already bagged up and waiting in the coroner's white van. It seemed a race on the highway had been the culprit in this instance, the cruiser trying to outgun the motorcycle, clipping the back tire and sending him flying and the cruiser into an ugly jack-knife. No one was wearing a seatbelt and the three teen joyriders were tossed around the interior of the car like popping corn in a microwave bowl. They were all good and tenderized by the time the car stopped moving.

Will finished up the last of his scooping and was ready to go when Jack got a call on his cell phone, interrupting his long chat with the traffic cop. This Jack was one hell of a people person, he was always stopping and chatting with someone, making what could have been a far more efficient workday stretch into extra hours. Jack laughed loudly at what was said on the other end, which quickly descended into a low chuckle. He shook his head, and hung up the cell, his meaty hand waving amicably at Will. "Yo! Graham! We got another one! Another brainiac, if you can believe it, so wipe that shovel off!"

Will stood up, his knees angrily creaking against both his awkward position and the damp cold that had crept into his joints. His body was long abused in this way, spending many a day and night in all types of weather, for hours at a time in awkward positions. He had to wonder what the motivation was for that other Will Graham to continue doing a menial job like this day in and out, never seeking out more either from ambition or boredom. Perhaps he could say the same for Hannibal, who had never gone beyond the realm of the dead, his business not as booming as they had expected all those years ago before Mona was even conceived. Will had gone over bank statements that morning and there were several bills that were in arrears, and from the pattern he'd seen they had poorly managed their finances. They used a common financial coping mechanism, where they'd pay one outstanding bill while another remained overdue. It was a cycle that was destined to keep them forever in debt.

He wasn't sure where the leak in their finances was coming from, but it seemed to stem from a newly built crematorium that Hannibal had invested in a couple of years ago after the original one suffered serious damage due to a small explosion. It hadn't been insured as part of the business due to the fact it hadn't been up to code. It was also offsite from the main property and not considered part of the main business, the end result being they had to suck up the loss. They hadn't retained enough clients in the interim to cover the costs of the new crematorium yet, and at the rate they were going the expense of running it was going to break them.

They finished up the scene, the traffic cop sent on his way with a promise from Jack to give him a call concerning a new coffee place nearby on the guy's run, a quirky little dump that also served pizza. It was increasingly strange to Will to find this Jack Crawford was not the burly, angry bulldog who relentlessly used up whatever and whoever he could in a bid to save lives. This Jack was easy going and stress free, cracking jokes along the way as they drove their quarry onto the highway, ready to drop them off at the hospital morgue where they were to wait until Jack went through his list of autopsies for that day.

At least, that had been the plan. They were now to go and pick up a body at a hotel next door to The Opera House, where a junkie had done something unpleasant with a sheep and earned a fatal kick in the head for it. "It's just a pick up, the FBI's forensics team has already gone over the scene, so that's not so bad. It's always nice when those guys do the grunt work for us." Jack shifted uncomfortably in his seat and shook his head at the sudden snow squall that blanketed the highway. "Means we've got a long day ahead, though. Lots of paperwork for you, Graham, hope you don't get writer's cramp."

"At least it'll be in a warm, cozy office," Will said, and shook the damp leg of his jeans out under the heat vent in the van in a sorry attempt to dry them. "I'll give Hannibal a call when we get there and let him know not to wait for me for dinner."

Jack fiddled with his radio, settling on a maudlin country station. The windshield wipers struck at the wet snow with squeaking effort, a sweep of obscurity and clarity giving Will's subconscious an unwanted sense of deja vu. "So that creep's getting out," Jack said, his jaw set as he stared at the road ahead. "You doing okay with that?"

Will frowned. "We're coping," he said.

"I'm talking about you, Will." Jack tore his eyes away from the road for a second to give Will a good, solid, old fashioned bulldog glare. That familiar shiver coursed through Will once again. "You didn't do so good the last time. Crawled into the bottom of a bottle of Wild Turkey for two months and parked your ass on your dad's porch. You were a real prick, I damn near fired you. If it wasn't for Hannibal calling me bawling on the phone, begging me to let you keep your job..." Jack trailed off and he shook his head, a low sigh escaping him. "You went motherfucking crazy town, left behind your sick Omega and those babies to fend for themselves...There's a lot of reasons why I shouldn't still call you my friend, Will."

Jack rubbed his meaty palm across his chin and along the back of his neck, as though rubbing out an old, lingering ache. "But I also know that what happened is partly my fault. I let you stay on the job, and I should never have listened to you, I should have forced you on leave. I get it. Little twenty-six year old piece of puke, going through that kind of trauma alone, no sleep thanks to Hannibal's nightmares every night, a hurt little tiny baby just newly home and you were scared to death to hold her in case she broke. That little firecracker daughter of yours fit in the palm of my hand, remember that?"

Will didn't, of course, but he could easily visualize it. A fragile new life and its massive responsibility. The terror of every cough, every struggle for breath. The constant, lingering threat of violence.

"You kept seeing your spouse on the examining table, in your head you were picking up bits of your baby at every accident scene. Just too much death too soon and too close to home. You tried blocking it all out with the booze and all that did was make it worse. Started getting all paranoid with Hannibal, wouldn't let him out of the house, you'd get all wound up if he dared to buy groceries or take Marcus to the park, you'd start arguing, and damn, Will, you were nasty, the way you screamed at him. Then one night you called me up drunk out of your fool head to tell me that you had to leave, you were too scared you were going to hurt him. No matter what, that was a shit thing to do, Will, leaving him alone like that, so close after everything that happened.

But I take some responsibility. I did that to you, I short circuited your head. I still feel real bad about that."

Will felt unbearably uncomfortable, Jack's residual pain washing over his empathy in waves. "It's in the past, Jack," Will assured him. "You don't have to worry about me, I'm not going to do that to my family ever again."

"You're damned fucking right you're not, I'll kill you first." He sighed and gave Will a light punch in the shoulder, shoving him playfully and easing the tense mood into a slightly friendlier one. "Look, you ever feel like you're going unstable again, you tell me right away and I'll have you on extended leave so fast I'll be driving this van through your front door to drop you off--Got it?"

"I get it," Will said, and he was grateful for this version of Jack, for even if the original stressor no longer was in play in their memories, there was the fact that he was dealing with a very different sort of Hannibal than Jack was used to. Will was long braised in trauma at this point, and one more splash of it wasn't about to make any difference.

"FBI Agent Jimmy Price is going to be on the scene," Jack said, and Will nodded blandly at this, an action that made Jack raise a brow. "Did you hear me, Will? Price is going to be there."

Will shrugged. "And?"

"Oh, it's like *that* now." Jack grinned, but Will didn't get the joke. "Mr. Will Graham you must have had a very nice little heat holiday if that's your attitude. Well. it has been ten years since you staked your claim and gave the guy a black eye." Jack shook his finger in Will's face. "Which he *deserved*, there's no faulting you for that!"

Jimmy Price? Will made a face, his perceptions hitting a blank wall. What the hell was Jack intimating here?

Will's cell phone rang and he answered it without checking, confident it was either Hannibal or one of their children. But it was like the static on the other end was intimidation enough, and Will actually clutched the dashboard as the uneven, dark gravel voice curled out of the phone like thick cigarette smoke and wound its way inside of Will's head.

"Hey there. Son."

Will kept the phone in a white knuckled grip. How long had it been since he'd heard from Ezra Graham? Twenty years? Twenty four? They hadn't exactly left one another on the best of terms, his fury at Will joining the FBI still a sore spot between them. He had to wonder what kind of man his father was in this universe, after all he had the softening effects of grandchildren, and Will had proven himself to eventually be a solid family man. He swallowed deeply, ignoring Jack's constant, curious looks at him through the corner of his eye, the road ahead as dreary and grey as the hope he had for any kind of reconciliation. "Dad," Will said, and Jack raised a brow and let out a low whistle at this. "H-how are you?"

"Cut the crap, Will. Small talk has never been our thing. I hear that asshole who messed with your Babydoll is getting a walk and I'm just making sure you don't do another runner."

Will was beginning to get impatient with this past version of himself, for he was far from unstable at this point, he was wholly who he was supposed to be. Hannibal had made sure of that. "Dad, I'm not going to do that, we're fine."

"You suck at bullshit as much as you do small talk, son. I'm at the cottage in Virginia, thinking of stopping by tomorrow night for dinner. Mischa said Babydoll's got a big spread planned, couldn't miss that."

"This is the first I've heard of it," Will said, annoyed.

"Yeah. Well, communication hasn't always been your forte." Ezra Graham let out a low gravel growl at this, a familiar judgement dripping from every intonation of his thick Louisiana drawl and putting Will on edge. "See you tomorrow, son. Give Babydoll a nice kiss from me. One right on the mouth."

He hung up and Will felt shattered, the prospect of seeing his father in any capacity filling him with a sense of impending dread. It was bad enough his son Marcus retained so much of his grandfather's characteristics, now he was going to be forced to choke down food while he had to deal with the resonating energy of both of them at the same table. Not to mention the issue Hannibal now presented, especially since Will knew damned well why his father was calling him 'Babydoll'.

"Shit's hitting the fan all over for you," Jack said, shaking his head as he stared ahead at the worsening road. Will prayed for a blizzard, anything to keep his father from driving up from Virginia and sitting at their dining room table with the entirety of his family. All that intense energy, piled tight into that small little room.

"Bomb's away," Will said. Beside him, Jack whistled in imitation of one, grinning as he puffed out his cheeks, mimicking an explosion.

~*~
The body was easy enough to cart away, and at this point there weren't any surprises left for Will, so the image of a freshly dead Mason Verger, his head caved in on the left side, was not the shock it should have been. The cause of death was obvious enough, the perpetrator marching back and forth on its hooves across the hotel room, nibbling on the carpet as it mistook it for grass. Mason Verger had been counting sheep. The forensics team from the FBI were long finished and since this was set to become an accidental death rather than a homicide, there was little for the officers now milling about the scene to do. Will sighed and fought the urge to flop down on the couch next to a glass coffee table covered in cocaine. A chicken walked past him, and a monkey took a shit on a cushion before leaping away. An animal control officer was rounding up the various feathered, hoofed and clawed critters crowding the room.

Jack sighed as he stood beside Will. "Is this what I think it is?"

"Yup," Will said, making a list of the various animals in his notes. "A diddling Dr. Doolittle."

Jack rolled his eyes as Mason Verger's body was zipped up in the usual black body bag and carted off on a gurney. His buddies in forensics were dropping him off in the van for him. "We got one hell of a busy night waiting for us back in the basement," Jack said. He let out a small curse and gave the forensics guys transporting the body a quick, friendly smile and a nod. "I better go downstairs with the body, make sure it goes on the right tier, these guys don't look too experienced. They're churning them out these days at the FBI, and I'm stuck being their extra credit. Remember how they didn't tack down that drowned guy properly? Rolled all over the bottom of the van, had nothing but pea soup to look at by the time we got him onto the slab. You coming?"

A familiar face was amongst the crowd, and Jack gave Will a knowing nod. "Just don't go giving him a shiner to match the last one. If you're going to kick him in the teeth, make sure you got a good Alpha rage going on first, that way he can't charge you with assault. Fucking Betas. Always messing in other people's shit."

He headed downstairs, while Will remained in the room, watching FBI Agent Jimmy Price with careful consideration. Price wasn't in forensics, that was obvious, and from the way he carried himself he was more film noir gumshoe than geeky team science. He noticed Will was staring at him, and he placed his hands on his hips, spreading his beige trench coat wide before giving Will a cheerful wave. "Creep's got the whole zoo in here," Jimmy said to him. "Won't be just bestiality we can add to the list, I think that goat is underage."

Will noticed the way Jimmy was giving him a cool once over, assessing every movement he made, putting it in his usual, relentless calculations and not letting one thing slip from his observation. "Been a while, Jimmy," Will managed to say. "How's the eye?"

"Healed up great!" Jimmy said, pointing to it. "For a while there, I thought there was going to be some permanent blood vessel damage, but it ended up correcting itself eventually. Kind of like a few other things."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. Like how our man Chilton can just turn on the switch to sanity, just like that! I mean, the human mind, right? Real miraculous thing."

Jimmy kept his hands on his hips as he stepped closer to Will, his head down and bobbing sideways as he brought Will into his confidence. "Look, we're never going to like each other, but you got to be on board with me on this. You had your suspicions then and I have mine now. How does a wet noodle of a dweeb like Chilton manage to turn into a vicious serial killer, with no apparent provocation save he was taking some heavy doses of hallucinogens? The son of a bitch was a podiatrist, for fuck's sake. What's a guy with a big enough passion for feet to make it a career doing messing with scalpels and c-sections?" Jimmy chewed his bottom lip and gave Will a hooded look. "Been a lot of years, Graham, but I gotta wonder--You still thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Yeah," Will said, all the little puzzles slipping into place, the pendulum of his empathy barely swinging before he'd had his answer. "Dr. Abel Gideon."

"Bingo was his name-o."

"What are your thoughts?"

"From what I understand, Dr. Chilton was spinning out of reality on shrooms, which he claims were slipped in his tea, but he couldn't remember by who. When he was brought in we found mescaline, LSD, bennies and E. coursing through his system. He was speaking the language of the angels, all right. We could barely get a statement." Jimmy pressed his lips tight together, thinking on it. "Dr. Gideon is set to retire this year. What could be a better way to end one's illustrious career than on a truly miraculous note? Oh, and a nice bonus, and possible book deals, the usual. His retirement package is really something, there's two publishing houses fighting over him right now for his exclusive story, I hear the deal's up to seven figures."

The subject was a tough one to broach, but Will had to get his facts, especially since it was clear that Jimmy had a clearer insight into what happened than anyone else. Will braced himself as he leaned forward, putting Jimmy into his confidence. "Just tell me again what you saw, right from the beginning. It still doesn't make sense to me."

"Fifteen years of repetition, Will."

"Yeah, I know, but humour me, okay?"

Jimmy sighed, glancing around him at the cops still wandering around the hotel room, some of them just idly chatting. "Hey! Dolarhyde!" Will shook as the familiar face looked up from a small crowd of beat cops and gave Jimmy a heads up. Jimmy gave a sweeping motion with his arm. "Get this place cleared out, only essential personnel!"

The hotel room began to empty, and Jimmy tucked Will into a corner of the room, near the little kitchen en suite which had a thick pile of filthy, moldy dishes laying in it. "Hannibal wasn't due for another few weeks, right? I was in the hospital getting treated for a stab wound to my thigh, some son of a bitch gang banger wannabe thinking he's getting his Alpha posture on by attacking an agent. Takes all kinds. It was just a flesh wound, nothing serious and I wanted to walk it off, but the big boss Tobias wanted his report, and we all know it's so you can't claim time off if you got medical attention. Anyway, they were finished with me, and you know how confusing that hospital is. I couldn't find the damned exit. I ended up in an entirely different wing of the hospital, which I quickly figured out was maternity. Hannibal was in a room off to the side and I noticed him sitting there alone and we chatted for a few moments, nothing special. I just wanted to know how to get out of the hospital. He told me he was there to get tested for preeclampsia, and he was kind of nervous. I guess you were on a corpse run at the time, he said you were supposed to stop by later in the day."

"I'd just started doing field work," Will said, mostly to himself. The home video stated he'd taken the FBI course when Mona had been conceived, and eight months later it made sense that he'd be pushing forward in his ambition.

"Anyway, I told Hannibal he looked the picture of health to me, and he smiled real sweet and I walked away. I still think of how fresh faced he looked, so young and speaking with that soft accent. He sat up in that bed looking like he was holding onto a beach ball, he was so cute." Jimmy shrugged at Will's frown at this. "Hey, I was only just in my mid thirties, and I still don't get to meet too many sweet, delicate twenty-something Omegas in my line of work. I stopped for a coffee at the canteen along the way, chatted with the nurses at their station for a bit. Saw a couple of newborns getting wheeled down the hall in those little clear plastic incubators on wheels they use. I was kind of reluctant to leave, I don't get to see happy shit like that, you know? So I guess I had my fill of procreative positivity and I was just about to leave the side door Hannibal had told me was the exit when the screaming started."

"And that's when you ran back to Hannibal's room?"

"It was a fucking freak show, not going to lie, Graham. I wasn't gone five minutes. Ran into that room with a bunch of nurses ahead and behind me, and all I could see was red pouring out of that gash in his stomach. Chilton was standing beside the bed, staring at his hands like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Tears just rolling down his face, he looked like was going to drop. It didn't take much for me to take him down, and I cuffed him and called it in." Jimmy let out a weary sigh as he thought on it, the memory a difficult one for him to revisit, though Will was sure he did so, and often. "There were a bunch of people working on Hannibal, stabilizing him. One doctor in particular I remember because he seemed too calm for what had happened, knew exactly what to do, calling up surgery, assessing the wound...I wouldn't have thought it weird until I found out the doctor in question was Dr. Gideon."

Will shrugged at this. "It's a big hospital, it could be coincidence. The fact he was present for the event is all the more reason for him to have taken on Chilton as a patient, he would have been an interesting study to him due to his own personal involvement."

"Gideon's a psychiatrist, and his spouse was well past her child bearing years, even then. What was he doing on the maternity ward?"

Will smiled. "Looking for an exit?"

"I don't buy it. Not only was he on a floor that was not part of his expertise, he was in an entirely different building. That hospital's mental ward is in an addition across the street."

Will chewed on this, thinking on what he knew of that other, shockingly violent Abel Gideon who had torn apart a nurse with nothing more than Chilton's unwitting suggestion to him that he was the Chesapeake Ripper. Seeing such a scenario turned on its head would not be out of character for either of them, save for the fact that Fred is no murderer. Gideon was able to expand on his violence because he already had that inclination in him. You can't put what isn't already possible into someone's consciousness, that was one lesson Hannibal had taught him well.

"Hannibal has always said there was another, darker figure in the room, one that seemed to be guiding Chilton. We weren't able to rely on that part of his testimony, even if I do still think it's relevant. Hannibal was in and out of consciousness, he remembers hearing Chilton weeping as he stood beside the bed, but other than that dark figure behind him, nothing else. All he could focus on was the baby, which is understandable."

"Hannibal's testimony got Chilton put away," Will said, thinking on the court transcripts.

"Well, it makes sense, Chilton's in the room, there's blood everywhere and a hysterical, butchered Omega. Just the fact he was there with his hands dripping blood and Hannibal saw him was proof enough for the jury."

Will envisioned the scene with difficulty, and the thought of Hannibal in such a vulnerable position, abused and injured in such a way, made an unexpected Alpha growl course through him, his angry feelings making Jimmy Price take a step back.

He could see the room, crowded with nurses, Dr. Gideon at the fore, inspecting the damage done. Will closed his eyes as he mentally wiped the room of all but Hannibal, patiently waiting in silence in his hospital bed. A Hannibal who was significantly younger. Smaller. Inexperienced. This Hannibal had never harmed anyone, he was shy, soft spoken. His affinity for the dead was for their passage and not their creation. The Hannibal of this universe was free of tragedy until that moment.

He did not deserve what happened to him.

"I walk into the room, and I see him there, the rounded shape like the contours of the Earth. I see moons and constellations around it. I do not move in this world without the aid of a separate force of gravity upon me. It is the dark figure that stands behind me, whispering in my ear, telling me I must cut into the Earth and free all who are enslaved upon it. But I hesitate. I have no will to cut into my celestial home. I can hear the whisper of stars and darkness but it holds no real claim over me. I am as much an observer as the sweet, sleeping form in the bed, who has the Earth tucked up against his belly.

This is not my design.

I step out from behind him. I am disappointed, but I have filled him with enough suggestion and hallucinatory drugs to make him believe whatever I want. My plan shall reach fruition, and my acts will be infamous, my success revered. I pick up the scalpel, and cut deep into that taut belly, keeping my face in shadows as my puppet stands beside me, well in the light. The blood pours out like a freed ocean, a tiny arm spills from the slit orifice and I am victorious. I am death and life combined. This is my design."

Will opened his eyes, focusing once again on the present. Jimmy Price stared at him as though he'd found a new level of crazy that Will Graham hadn't shown him yet.

"Where was the scalpel?" Will asked.

"You really drifted off there, Graham, you sure you're okay?" Jimmy glanced at the open door of the hotel room, the scene mostly emptied at this point. A cleaning woman had parked a soapy bucket and rubber gloves in the hall and popped her head in the door at intervals, sending anxious looks into the room. "Funny you should mention that. It always sat wrong with me. The scalpel was placed on the side set of drawers on the opposite side of the bed where Chilton was standing. It was just neatly put there. How was Chilton, in the crazy state was in, going to be able to function enough to do something like that? You'd think he'd let it clatter to the floor or worse still, leave it in the victim, but no. On the dresser, on the opposite side of where he was standing."

Jimmy cast another glance at the door of the hotel room, and when he was sure they had no way to be overheard, he leaned in close to Will. "Listen, I know you've heard a lot of talk over the years that make it sound like I made the moves on your Omega when you were having your breakdown in Louisiana. Not gonna lie, I got worried and checked up on him and the kids, sure I did. Yeah, it was all a real mess, and maybe he did lean on me a little more than I should have let him, seeing as how he was still officially attached to his Alpha and all. I just gotta make it clear to you somehow, I never fucked your Omega. First of all, how could I? He was still recovering from the assault, and secondly, he had a fragile newborn baby to take care of. His sister and one of his friends helped him out best they could, taking Marcus to give him a break, but there were still big gaps that you leaving left behind. I went around every other night, sure, spent a few weekends there, too, when I could get away from work. I slept on the couch. He'd get scared alone at night with the kids, the house isn't exactly the most secure of places, though I guess having to run a gauntlet of coffins is enough of a deterrent for most burglars." Jimmy dipped his head and kicked at the stained carpet with the heel of his shoe. "It was all over the second Ezra dropped you off on the front porch, anyway. I watched Hannibal open that door and there you were, a contrite Alpha in its frame, and he just crumpled into your arms and that was it. I'll admit, I was getting too close, I was damned jealous after that. I stuck around long after my welcome."

"Six years worth," Will ventured, and to his surprise Jimmy nodded at this. Will frowned, thinking on the timing of it. "It was at Mona's sixth birthday. That's when I hit you." There was no need for a pendulum to swing in his mind as to the reason why, for he could envision the scenario that would lead to such a blow with ease. Mona, washed off in the upstairs bathroom, and then left to toddle back down and into the kitchen to open presents and eat cake, not in that order. Jimmy, sneaking upstairs and asking how things were going, if Will's drinking was becoming a problem again, if he had to be concerned. Years of pent up expectation coming to a head as he stole a passionate kiss, one that just might have been returned.

The very thought of someone else's lips on Hannibal's made Will's hands clench into tight fists, a low growling coursing through him that was purely instinctual. Jimmy Price held up his hands. "Hold onto your hormones, no need to go posturing your aggression at me, Alpha male, that was ten years ago, and I've respected Hannibal's wishes and stayed away since. If you ever wondered where Mona gets that temper of hers, take a look in the damned mirror."

A horn loudly beeped outside the hotel room window, and Will glanced out of it, seeing the white coroner van parked on the sidewalk below. "I got to go," Will said, stripping off his white paper onesie, then snapping off his latex gloves. He tossed them into a clear plastic bag and tied it off before putting it in a trash can in the corner. "I'd say it was good to see you again, Jimmy, but I'm not sure I'd be telling the truth."

"Yeah," Jimmy said, and he was genuinely sad at this. "Tell Hannibal I miss his cooking. Nobody makes beef heart taste that good."

~*~

It was dark when Will was dropped off at home, Mason Verger's body released and brought in through the back entrance that led to the basement of the Lecter Funeral Home. He transported the body in and slid it in its black plastic bag casing onto one of the metal gurneys in the chilled room. He covered it with a starched, bleached white sheet and left it there, turning off the lights as he stepped out of the formaldehyde scented space, the chemical burning the back of his throat.

"At least you guys are getting some business," Jack said when Will came out to return the coroner's gurney, hauling it into the back of the van with grunting effort and slamming the delivery doors of the van shut. Jack nodded from his driver's side window, at the back entrance of the house where Will had stepped out. "The Vergers got tons of money. Tell Hannibal to sell them the most expensive coffin he's got."

Will shrugged at this. "They'll probably opt for cremation, most people do these days."

"Sculpting the dead is a dying art," Jack said, and loudly howled at his own lame joke. "See you at the hospital tomorrow morning, Will. Got six cases waiting in the fridge for us first thing."

Jack drove off, and Will watched him go, the exhaustion of the day catching up with him. He entered through the back door and went up a set of stairs leading into the chapel, which was gloomy, lit solely by a few strategically placed night lights plugged into sockets in the walls. The large, central doors creaked as he opened them, a loud click announcing his presence. He was met with smells from the kitchen and he checked his watch to view the time. Nine o'clock at night. He'd had a fourteen hour day.

He carefully closed the chapel doors behind him and headed for the kitchen, where two familiar voices hit him like a slap, the cheerful giggling in answer to Hannibal's deeper intonations a sound Will couldn't equate with living reality. He was hesitant as he journeyed down the narrow hallway leading to the kitchen island, his body shaking as he took in the image of Hannibal and Abigail fussing over a piece of cake, Abigail's fork digging into the chocolate icing with fervent, happy relish.

Will was frozen where he stood. She looked exactly the same, her face blushed with freckles, her long, dark hair parted in the middle and cascading free down the length of her back. She was wearing a pair of fuzzy pyjamas with blue clouds printed on them, and her feet were bare. Will found himself rooted, unable to move. Such dreams were made to destroy, Will thought, and he fought the urge not to weep.

"Hey, Mr. Graham," Abigail said.

"H-Hello, Abigail." Will stepped closer, his feet leaden as though trapped in dream. How often he had spoken to her after death, had ruminated over the choices they had made and Hannibal's narcissistic tantrum had brought them to tragedy. Yet, here she was, healthy and whole, the smashed teacup rejoined, and Hannibal, her murderer, was standing opposite her, licking chocolate icing off of a spoon and laughing at some witticism she'd said that Will didn't hear.

"Doesn't Mona want a piece?" Hannibal asked her, and Abigail shook her head, finishing the last of the cake on her plate and picking up the remaining crumbs with wet fingertips.

"She said she's on a diet."

"There's no need for that, she's a growing girl who is hardly sedentary. Tell her to come down for cake, and if she doesn't want it, you can have her portion as well. You are rather too thin for my liking, Abigail. Your father owns a butcher shop, surely you are not at a loss for a good meal."

"He hasn't been cooking at all since this whole Chilton thing," she said, shrugging, a nonchalance about the suggestion of violence still a major part of her personality. "He's handing out flyers at the shop now. He getting up a petition to send Chilton to prison, since he's now considered sane."

"I'm not sure that's how the legal system works," Will countered. "He was found to be sick and now he's supposedly well. That decision was based on the fact he didn't know what he was doing. I can appreciate your father's efforts, but I don't think he's going to be successful."

"I've tried telling him that." Abigail gave them both another one of her dismissive shrugs. "He doesn't listen, especially now that he's drunk all the time."

Hannibal's voice was terse. "Abigail if you ever need a place to stay for any length of time you do understand that our home is always open to you."

"I know." Abigail gave Hannibal a warm smile as she slid off of her stool and placed the empty plate and fork in the kitchen sink. She gave Hannibal a sweet, innocent kiss on his cheek before bouncing away towards the main staircase. "Thank you!"

"You are welcome," Hannibal called after her, but she was already gone, giggling loudly with Mona over a show they were watching on the television in the large living room on the second floor.

Hannibal was not dressed for bed, but was decked out in what looked to be a new, colourful and expensive suit, his inner peacock more than happy to finally be given its expression. He smoothed down the waistcoat and half turned, giving Will a better view. "I went shopping after my appointment with Bedelia. It's a Burberry, of course, much to my relief. What do you think?"

Will groaned and rubbed his brow with the pad of his thumb. "I think the next time you buy a new suit you should make sure the mortgage is paid first. I found our bank statements this morning, we are barely scraping by." He sighed at Hannibal's complete disinterest in this. "How is your health?"

"It seems I have a minor surgery to schedule. Blockage in my fallopian tubes thanks to scar tissue, caused by Chilton's attack." He wiped imaginary crumbs from the kitchen counter and braced his hands on the chipped faux marble surface, leaning forward on them. "I have also discovered that I am very good friends with Dr. Bedelia DuMaurier, who has not only taken care of our children in the past, but who has an infuriatingly kinder, gentler side to her than that freezer burnt ice cube we left behind. She insisted she give me a hug before I left her condominium. It's a new facet to her that I am not sure I can tolerate."

"Interesting," Will said, his hands loose in his pockets. "Today I discovered that you once had a small affair with FBI Agent Jimmy Price."

Hannibal was aghast at this and his mouth twisted into a sneer. "Bedelia suggested as much. How did such a thing as that happen?"

"Apparently, my counterpart is a real prick. My 'instability' showed up at the worst possible time and nearly destroyed our family." He watched as Hannibal dove into his refrigerator and took out a bottle of wine and a small metal bowl. The oven was quickly opened and a steaming aluminium container was brought out, its contents plated on antique ceramic and a portion of salad balanced upon it with an attractive flair. He set the plate before Will with a small flourish, a setting of cutlery expertly laid out beside it. Will smiled and slid onto one of the stools, while Hannibal poured them both tall glasses of wine to accompany it.

"Jerk chicken that is far blander than Mona's portion, sweet potatoes and roasted corn with a side of escarole frissee drizzled with a mango vinaigrette. Lighter fare than I would usually serve on such a damp winter's night, but we are trying to incorporate the illusion of summer. Mona insisted on chocolate cake for dessert, and now she isn't even eating it."

Will stared down at the mouthwatering plate of food, suddenly realizing how hungry he was. He hadn't eaten since he'd left that morning, and as he picked up his fork and knife and dared to cut into the moist, perfectly cooked chicken he had to admit he had missed this. "You know, when I think back on it, I often wonder how it was that I didn't know I was falling in love with you. You wanted a friend, a comrade in killing who would be willing to see you as you really are, but at that early stage, I just wanted something much simpler. I was looking for a soft place to fall."

Hannibal gave him a restrained smile at this. "We both got what we wanted. I admit, I am having greater difficulty navigating the emotional connotations that this world affords far more than the physical strangeness of it. I helped you to embrace your ferocity, Will. As an Alpha, that is now an expected part of your nature."

"What am I to help you embrace, Hannibal?" Will asked, thoughtful as he consumed the flavourful chicken. "What difficulty can you possibly have here?"

Hannibal inclined his head, reluctant to answer. He sipped at his wine instead, a deflection he had used often in the past when the conversation drifted towards topics he didn't want to discuss or musings he longed to suppress. Will took large bites of his meal, finishing it quickly as he contemplated this silence from his partner. The sudden, tense shyness was one he'd seen in Hannibal before, a coy, tightly restrained desire that had him inclining his head in coquettish flirtation. It was when they had been eating Randall Tier together. Mouthfuls of long pig had been interpreted as a declaration of love.

He stared at Hannibal, his knife and fork forgotten as he placed them back on either side of his plate. Hannibal took another long sip of wine, not meeting Will's gaze.

"I'm going to make you happy," Will said.

Hannibal blinked at this, and if Will didn't know better he'd say his words had left Hannibal confused. "That's a tall responsibility you are taking on, Will. We are each responsible for our own happiness."

"No, this is what you need me to do, this is the becoming you have to understand, in *this* world." He dug into the salad, inwardly remarking that the frissee was just the right tart crispness and paired well with the vinaigrette. "We're back there, Hannibal. After everything that happened, all the trespasses we have committed against one another, all that life made us suffer, we are now free to begin again, and we can be truly happy. Do you not understand that this is exactly the gift you were seeking?"

He finished his meal and pushed the plate to one side, sliding off of the stool. He cornered Hannibal at the refrigerator door, refusing to let him escape. Will's hands slid along Hannibal's waist, teasing at the layers of expensive fabrics, his hand diving in at the front of his trousers and testing the alien readiness he knew was waiting there. A soft cry left Hannibal's lips as Will palmed him, trousers opened and dropped as Hannibal's legs quivered against Will's teasing insistence.

"Abigail and Mona are upstairs," Hannibal protested.

"Then you'll have to be quiet," Will said.

Will kissed him. Deeply. He tore every wayward hope that had secretly lurked in Hannibal's breast and feasted on it. It wasn't just Will's body that wanted to make a meal of him, not when Hannibal was wet and open like this, his back pressed hard against the steel door of the refrigerator, limbs trembling as Will quickly undid his jeans and freed himself. He was learning very quickly what nature wanted him to know. Hannibal let out a small tortured howl as Will slid inside, slick hot and easing in Will's pulsing knots.

"How could he have left you," Will sighed into Hannibal's cheek, the swallowed panting and whimpers muffled against Will's neck driving him hard into release.

"Aš tave myliu." It was a whispered plea, the relief and tension of Hannibal's body still wrapped in finery, the feel of him beautiful.

The phrase staggered out of Will, borne on genetic memory and he couldn't stop its automatic clatter from his tongue, the sensation of this man's body collapsed against his too distracting, his mind dulled to how easily Hannibal was submitting to his whims, surrendering a shared, intense connection that filled every hollow remnant within them both.

"I love you, Babydoll."

Dammit. He didn't just say that, did he?

Hannibal was having trouble focusing, but he tensed in a different way beneath Will's touch, his mouth stumbling in pure confusion as he managed to form a question. "Will...What...What did you just call me?"

Will purposefully shifted and Hannibal cried out, pressing his own fist tight against his mouth in a vain attempt to keep quiet and not alert the attention of their family upstairs, who were hopefully still enjoying the night in ignorance of their parents' lovemaking.

"I said I really fucking love you," Will said, and hoped Hannibal wouldn't seek a further answer.