They Can Smell Your Intentions

THEY CAN SMELL YOUR INTENTIONS
chapter thirteen

He woke up in a cold sweat, the hands of the dead tearing through the velvet of the green couch, spilling ground bones in place of pine sawdust. White limbs reached out, sharp pointed nails scratching and tearing at his flesh. He awoke panting, terror and disorientation battling for dominance as he sat up, his hands shakily forcing a sense of self back into him as his palms scraped along the stubble of his cheeks. The last thing he remembered was finishing up a Skype call with Adam, his delectable little spaceman in a much better mood now that he knew Nigel was, as far as he knew, safe. That word held a tenuous meaning in this house, Nigel knew, and he wasn't about to put a worried frown that he couldn't wipe away onto his angel's sweet, anxious face. It was a difficult thing, talking to him in bits and bytes, his soul transferred through a slender glass barrier. There were thousands of kilometres between them, an entire fucking ocean preventing him from sweeping his little angel into his arms and gentling the back of his neck, revelling in the way he melted against him. He found himself touching the screen with his fingertips as though he could somehow psychically bring him into a firm reality, wishing the warmth of his skin could be that easily transferred.

Adam's face was blushed red, as though he had a small fever, the thought worrying to Nigel. "Eating breakfast without you is unacceptable. Darko came over this morning and made toast and he burnt it. You know I don't like burnt toast. Eating charcoal is only good if you have food poisoning. I think he was upset that I didn't like the take-out coffee he brought, either, I like the way you make it, and besides, I always have milk or orange juice with breakfast, coffee makes me anxious. You look tired. I miss you. Your absence is creating a great deal of distress in both my sleeping and waking habits."

"I know, darling," Nigel pouted. "I wish I was with you, too."

Adam choked down on emotion and wouldn't meet Nigel's gaze. "The Hubble has taken several new pictures of the outer limits of the Orion galaxy and I'm keen to explore the possibility of mapping residual radio waves from its star formations. It's very hard to sleep when you aren't with me."

"I won't be doing much of that, either, my little spaceman. I wasn't exaggerating when I told you I have every intention of doing what I need to do and then getting back on a plane and coming home. This region is a fucking nightmare, I don't know how you grew up in this shithole."

Adam frowned at this, and Nigel near kicked himself for the complaint because Adam instantly seized on distress. "Are you really safe, Nigel? The GSF are very dangerous, I have been watching news and Reddit reports out of your area of the United Main region very carefully and I'm alarmed at the level of dissent that is continuing to rise. Several online chat rooms and newsgroups are of the consensus that civil war is imminent and I have already expressed that you should remain there no longer than a week. There have been reports of attacks by GSF on Mainland townships along the Coastline borders. There is no word yet on casualties, but there are images of homes being burned down and shots being fired into Mainland traffic. According to some Reddit users, at least forty people have been murdered by GSF since Sunday, and these secretive skirmishes are increasing."

"I haven't seen any of that here," Nigel truthfully told him and Adam seemed to relax slightly at this.

Adam sniffed, and then bravely sat up straighter, the pillows propped comfortably behind him as he talked to Nigel from their bedroom. "I have found employment," he announced.

"That's wonderful, darling! Where?"

"Observatorul Astronomic Amiral Vasile Urseanu, the observatory here in Bucharest. Of course, that observatory is more of a historical relic than one of use relevant to current research, but I will be doing some bridging of my own and will be consulting on the measurement methodology of interstellar x-rays with the research staff at Cluj-Napoca Observatory on occasion. I know it's fairly far out of the city, about seven kilometres, but I'm hoping we can make some day trips if they do not interfere with your own schedule at the precinct. They were very interested in my current theories on supernova remnants and the tracking of galaxy movement utilizing fractals. You look very tired, Nigel."

"I am, my angel." Nigel shifted to a more comfortable position on the couch. "Tell me of your stars, darling."

"The supernova remnants? As you know, they are the leftover energy of stars that have already formed and can be aged using X-rays, which can pinpoint the formation of that energy fairly accurately."

He had talked and Nigel had listened, and though it wasn't nearly the same as having his head on Adam's stomach and feeling the happy rumble of his voice through his body, it was as close as he was going to get and he allowed himself to float amongst the stars with it. He drifted through Adam's animated speech on stellar material and its speeding velocity of 30,000 km/s, the temperature of the material reaching over 10,000k. There were other complex concepts within the mix, a study of the velocity of the matter and whether or not it produced a black hole or a white dwarf, the echoes of the stars' original explosions lasting hundreds of thousands of years. Nigel hovered up and into giant, violent portions of sky as he fell asleep to Adam's voice, the universe pulling him up into the heavens as he held little cosmonaut before Nigel's weary, battered soul found gravity, and it plunged him, as it always did, with fierce cruelty into the Earth. He was back in the muck, the limbs of the dead tearing at him, waking him rudely. "Such a pleasure to meet your acquaintance" the ghosts of the forgotten dead whispered, and he could still hear their spectral chant as he forced himself awake, his legs swung over the edge of the green velvet couch as he sat up, the vertigo of still being whole and human making him dizzy. He swallowed back bile and tried not to be sick. He couldn't eat a bite of breakfast, all he could think of was scrambled eggs and Adam.

Fuck, his bones ached, and if he wasn't feeling miserable before, he sure as hell was now. It was late in the morning and Jack Crawford was expecting him at Quantico, the FBI headquarters tucked into the Mainland area of nearby Virginia that was becoming increasingly difficult to get into. The building itself was now mostly devoid of personnel for safety reasons, but Jack Crawford was stubbornly staking his territory, and he'd made it very clear to Nigel that no GSF sons of bitches were going to make him abandon *his* second home. His office was on the third floor, and he was expecting Nigel's presence there by noon. Delays were not an option in the Crawford mindset, but Jack was going to be forced to accept this one.

The atrium was too warm and Nigel found it difficult to remain wakeful in the stuffy room, its tropical humidity more for plants than people. The couch was comfortable at least, its odd, sawdust stuffing made the cushions form close to his body, the shavings of wood absorbing sweat and keeping him cool. It was an Omega couch, an expensive one at that, designed specifically for the ergodynamics of their bone structure and immunological needs. Free of dust and mites, such furnishings were the epitome of comfort for a pampered Omega, and while he would have loved to fill his own home with such things for his precious spaceman, his paltry wage, even in his new post as a Comisar, could hardly buy a specialized pillow let alone a whole couch.

The atrium was a preferred living space for the Lecter-Grahams, Nigel noticed as he took in the ornate harpsichord behind him in the far corner and then the equally ornate whicker white crib a few feet away from the couch. Tropical plants lined the space, some alien varieties reaching to the ceiling. The room still had the feel of well worn living within it, the small rings of coffee stains on the terra cotta tiled floor near the harpsichord's bench telling a tale of easy mornings and the small stack of thick, antique books to the far right of the couch that served as an impromptu side table speaking of equally lazy afternoons. The very fact the baby had a crib nearby cemented that this was a sacred place within their home. He could easily envision Dr. Lecter holding his baby as he luxuriated on his large, comfortable couch, with Will Graham reading the paper at the other end. When the baby was tucked away for the night, Nigel could see them enjoying glasses of wine and discussing fine art and blood and murder, Will Graham's wiry body eager to partake of the sultry promise that Lecter would torture him with all day long. To some people it might seem sweet, but to Nigel it was just fucking creepy the way Lecter was constantly seducing his mate, offering submission with the lilt and curve of his blatantly bared neck at every opportunity and revelling in how agitated and needful this made his Alpha.

Breakfast had been especially telling, with Jack Crawford too in love with his fucking poached eggs on toast and waxing poetic over hollandaise sauce, unable to pay careful attention to the power play constantly being worked between Dr. Lecter and Will Graham. Dr. Lecter seated himself at the kitchen island across from Will, and in between Jack's animated speech Nigel noted that Lecter's cold, overly polite facade would occasionally slip when catching the eye of his mate. In these instances, Lecter would tilt his head to one side, revealing the long line of his graceful neck, a gesture that quickened Will Graham's breath and made him hesitate at stuffing forkfuls of fluffy omelette into his mouth. At one point in the conversation, when Jack's back was turned, Lecter had absently scratched at the collar of his burgundy, brocade robe, a ruse enacted so he could open it further, nearly fully revealing a heavy breast, the action definitely meant to rattle the twitching, hungry Alpha across from him. Nigel heard Will Graham's gasp at the glimpse of an areola, a flagrant pink against pale skin. Graham gripped his fork tight and grit his teeth as he grimaced over his cup of coffee. He was sure as fuck a breast man, no question there. Hell, he looked about ready to jump over the table and latch on and get a taste. The whole morning was spent in this manner, with him looking on his Omega with this weird, fucked up hungry longing and residual anger all mixed together and Nigel couldn't make any sense of it.

Throughout breakfast, Dr. Lecter pretended to be completely unaware of these physical flirtations with his mate, remaining cool and aloof, a barrier that Will Graham, from the way he was fiddling with his fork and pushing up his glasses up the bridge of his nose and overall not knowing what the fuck to do with himself was finding increasingly frustrating. It was obvious to Nigel that all he really wanted was to take his Omega right fucking there and fuck his brains out, company be damned.

Nigel had no idea what kind of torture this game was supposed to represent between the two of them, but the rules, if there were any, were the worst kind of exhausting to follow. He'd had some experience in that regard. Gabi loved head games and he admittedly fell for them himself more often than not, but this obscene, under the skin teasing was on a level far above her pouting whining. These two were tigers circling each other in a cage, constantly sizing each other up before delivering a deadly strike. It was impossible to tell if their inevitable confrontation would end in a lick or a bite.

There was movement in the kitchen and Nigel looked up from his place at the couch to discern the outline of Dr. Lecter at his kitchen sink, his baby held sweetly in his arms and looking every inch a happy, contented infant Omega. There was nothing of the murderer lurking in wait as he held his child, soft words and lullabies in Lithuanian delivered like feather down into the air around his baby's pink mouth. He watched as Lecter pulled her close and nuzzled her tiny belly, drawing the scent of her in deep. He'd pull away, his expression one of naked, surprised bliss, as though he was shocked that such a miracle could really be there, that this weight in his arms was a reality and not a delusion pulled from dream.

"You hold her like you believe someone is going to take her from you," Nigel said, and Dr. Lecter slowly turned towards him, pretending not to be startled by his voice.

Lecter smiled into the soft giggle of his daughter and held her close, strong hands holding her in place against his chest. "Time shall be a thief well enough as she grows into adulthood and forges her own destiny. But for now, I revel in my love for her. Is there anything more precious than a child? You are not a father yet, Inspector Ionescu, otherwise you would fully understand my longing." Dr. Lecter closed his eyes and pressed a gentle kiss on the top of the baby's head, breathing her in as he did so, that blissful smile still in evidence. "I overheard you talking to your mate, or rather, your mate discussing the nature of the universe with you while you snored on the couch. Precocious creature, this Adam Raki. He doesn't seem to recognize when you are bored. It's a typical symptom of Asperger's, one of many that I imagine is challenging to deal with."

Nigel instantly bristled at this. "I'm never bored when he's talking, it just goes over my head and I'd rather he just keep going. He's a goddamned genius. That's some kind of fucking brilliant to figure out how the universe itself was made, he knows I don't understand any of it. What he does know is that I love hearing his fucking gorgeous voice in my ear, especially when he's talking about heaven, so put your judgemental shit somewhere else."

"It was merely an observation." Dr. Lecter stroked the back of his baby's head with long, tender fingers, though his expression was hardly one that matched the action. Black eyes dotted red pierced through Nigel as he put him in his sights, Lecter's steps long and graceful as he made his way into the atrium to face him properly. "You had a fitful rest, and hardly one I would call adequate. Will placed your luggage in an upstairs bedroom adjacent to the grand staircase, it would be wise of you to make use of it."

There it was, that fucking predator gleam showing up again, that sharp toothed smile like a cat about to steal a fish from a net. Dr. Lecter was hungry for prey, and he'd made the conclusion that Nigel was suitable. "Perhaps your nerves are on edge due to your mission here, one which I assure you I am in full compliance with. Would you like some herbal tea? It will help settle you."

"I can't trust you not to drug me," Nigel snapped.

Lecter raised a brow at this. "Why would you believe I would do such a thing?"

"Because you are a highly manipulative mass murderer. You have to be if you're convincing Omegas on our shores to join in on your cause, one that is frankly more selfish than you let on." He watched Dr. Lecter carefully as he moved towards him, baby held close to his chest.

He still held that predatory, Cheshire cat smile as he looked down on Nigel.

"Would you like to hold her?"

He didn't give Nigel a chance to say no, and before he knew it the now angry, fussing baby was placed gently into his arms, nicotine stained fingers holding her head in place as he cupped his hands beneath the round, velvet softness of her skull. The feeling was awkward as he brought the baby closer to him, the sensation of fear that he was going to drop her paramount in his mind. For fuck's sake, this little, fragile, toothless, yawning thing, what was it doing in *his* arms, it was hardly a good place for a baby, there was no room there for new beginnings, bringing with her the threat of hope. Still, with uncertain, awkward movements he brought her closer, and sniffed the pink talc aroma of her flawless skin, a sudden, needful instinct rising within him to protect her at all costs. It was an overwhelming feeling, one that frightened him as he dared to hold her against his stomach and more of her sweet scent mingled with his own bitter sweat. Lecter draped himself at the other end of the couch, watching Nigel carefully.

"Such a gift is to be treasured. She is content in your arms, though you are a stranger. You are experienced at soothing the distressed." Lecter's brocade dressing gown was open again and Nigel was getting really tired of being boob mooned.

"I can see she's getting good meals out of you," he said, nodding at the twin appendages Lecter was clearly drawing attention to. If this fucking bastard wanted to drench every moment in head games, he had to learn quick that Nigel was one prick who played dirty. "You weren't that big the first time."

Lecter's eyes flashed red at this, his smile quickly descending into a harsh line as he quickly pulled the dressing gown closed, nearly hiding his neck as well. "They are temporary and quite the surprise. I wasn't exactly expecting them since I was flat throughout her gestation. A miracle of engorgement happened overnight, and it was and continues to be fairly painful. If you wish to know the gory details of their use I would prefer you simply look it up on Google, I myself am not particularly enamoured with this portion of child rearing."

The little baby in his arms was sucking hard on her fist and staring with wide, blue eyes up at Nigel, his face so fascinating to her that when he tried to lean out of her vision she would squirm in his grip to find a way to follow him, her head bobbing up from his arms, transfixed. He smiled and tickled her cheek, which sent her into a eruption of playful, happy giggling. He chuckled back and tickled her other cheek, enjoying her answering trill.

"She's cute." He glanced up at Dr. Lecter, whose mood seemed to have softened. He nodded once again at the doctor's hidden chest. "Your mate certainly likes them."

Lecter rolled his eyes at this, and let out an exasperated sigh. "He goes after them every chance he gets. I imagine it's an infatuation due to his own issues with his mother. She'd committed suicide when he was a child, and I suppose he's seeking those things that had given him comfort in infancy, namely what is under this robe. It's all rather Oedipal and highly unpleasant. Still, I sometimes indulge him. He's under considerable stress, and my mammories have proved to be a temptation of relief, one borne of simpler times when all his needs had been so perfectly met." He traced a long finger along the back of the couch, trailing through the carved indentations of flowers etched into the camphor frame. "What about you, Nigel? Where do you find your needs falling along the scale of want? I imagine they are mostly abandoned, trapped as they are in the earth, searching out the dead and the dying. Such a shame that you have fallen in love only to be forced to discard it when the needs of others becomes prescient. Perhaps you don't believe yourself worthy of love, and as such the abandonment was swift. You may have considered that a mercy to your Omega. Perhaps a promise was made you can't fulfill. There are certain human desires a man such as yourself will forever deny himself. You saw the open mouth of joy and you wouldn't dare dive in."

Nigel was annoyed at this. "More of your 'observations', doctor?"

"I do hope you will reconsider your stance and will give your new life with your Omega mate a chance. Such self loathing is not befitting a man of your calibre, to allow some selfishness into your life is not a crime, it is necessary."

Nigel was amused by Lecter's assumptions. "I have not 'discarded' Adam, I'm going the fuck home the minute I'm done here."

"Of course," Dr. Lecter said, a thin smile given to Nigel's bemused sneer. "Back to all those other dark caverns of suffering with your darling star on the periphery of the night sky, staring down at you, always just out of reach."

The baby squealed and Nigel nosed her forehead, kissing her softly. "Aveti un monstru pentru o mama, dar esti incantator, putin unul pretios." He grinned at the way she grabbed for his chin and he widened his eyes for her in surprise which sent her into a renewed fit of joyful giggles. He tickled her stomach and she grabbed his finger, wrapping her own tiny, pudgy digits around his own. "Quick reflexes. No one will fuck with you, little one, I can see that. What should I do? Should I give you back to your Mama and let him corrupt you, let him make hateful things joyous? Ah, I've said too much already, I must be fucked, little one, your Omega Mama is giving me that look with the weird gleam in his eye again, the one that says he'd like to slit my ugly Alpha throat. He wants to make me pay for being concerned about his methods. He wants me to cut out my own heart and then force me to eat it for telling you the truth."

"What truth would that be, Inspector Ionescu?" Lecter coldly asked. His eyes were burning embers now, and Nigel couldn't help but smile at how effectively he'd rattled him.

Nigel grinned widely at the baby in his arms. "Are you going to be your Mama's warrior, too? Shall he strap guns to your back, little one, and tell you to take a bullet if you have to?"

Lecter was clearly infuriated with this, and Nigel bid his time, waiting to see if he'd gone just that little bit too far, drawing the monster within, out. "You believe I would do that to my precious blood. I had believed you to be an intelligent, thoughtful man, Inspector Nigel Ionescu, at least that was what my daughters reported to me. But it seems you are as arrogant as you are miserable. You have come into my home and held my child and insulted me as you whispered to her. You are not quite Holofernes, but you are dreadfully close."

"Your Mama's got a hidden temper, little one, look at that vein popping in his neck. Look at how much he wants to slit my damned throat, I bet he'd like to take a shit down it, too. Shall we see it, little one? Maybe if you giggle again your Mama will let that monster hiding inside of him out to play."

Dr. Lecter's demeanour instantly changed from choler to ice. Nigel gave him a crooked smile as he scooped his baby back up from Nigel's arms, fussing over her with tender endearments in Lithuanian. Nigel watched him carefully, the graceful movements not hiding the low, predator growl that crept along his slender aura, a black haze of non-feeling that wanted nothing more than to strike at Nigel and gnash its teeth.

"You do not want to meet it," Dr. Lecter warned him, through the sharp tips of his clenched little teeth.

"I'm taking those Omegas home," Nigel said, and there was no room for argument. "Fuck your cause and fuck you. Nobody dies on my watch, asshole, I won't allow it. Wage your war on your own fucking turf, bitch, leave my people alone."

Lecter, oddly enough, had a protracted pause at this, and though Nigel was fully expecting another sharp barb directed at him, if not an actual knife to his heart, the Omega calmly gentled the baby in his arms and relaxed in his pose at the other end of the large couch. "I see, now. I have been remiss due to my heightened emotions and allowed myself to be fooled. I have a new understanding of you, Nigel," he said, and his voice was calm, even wistful, a strangely shy lilt to his head that suggested soft flirtation. "You attack me not out of your frustration but out of your need to protect. You believe I am a monster, stealing *your* daughters away, convincing them to fight a battle that you wish to absolve them of. If I am their mother, you are their father, worried and aware of the dangers that plague them. How much you love them, to put yourself in harm's way instead. But the facts are, your daughters have made a choice, Nigel, and this is not a battle that has nothing to do with them. This is a clash against a cancerous ideology that has been permitted to grow unchecked. They wish to be at the birth of a new universe. Surely, that is a metaphor you can understand perfectly."

It wasn't, and Nigel wanted to argue further, but his cell phone rang and he picked it up, impatient, Jack Crawford's name blazed in green all caps across the surface. He checked the time and realized he was late for his appointment with the man in Quantico and he inwardly cursed. "I have to go," he said, getting up and pocketing the cell phone.

He paused as he stood in front of Dr. Lecter, the baby now cooing and content in his arms, wide blue eyes still looking up at him. He dared to tickle her cheek again, and couldn't stop himself from responding with a smile to her delighted laugh at his touch. He caught Lecter's eye and though the red embers were still there, there was another, more disturbing emotion daring to poke out from beneath that black ice. Curiosity. Malignant admiration.

He shook the uncomfortable feeling off. Dr. Lecter nodded towards the kitchen, that eerie scrutiny keeping Nigel in his sights. "The key to the Bentley is on a hook near the convection oven. Drive safe, Nigel, and be sure to inform Jack that it was lovely to see him again. I hope you will be returning here in time for dinner, I have plans to make a hunter's stew. Using wild venison, of course. Too much domesticity can leave one's palate feeling bland."

~*~

"So what you're saying is you have no fucking plan at all!"

Nigel clenched his hands into fists at his waist and wondered just what the fuck was Jack Crawford trying to play at. "Why in the fucking hell did I drive all the way out here for? Why am I even on this fucking shore? I don't give a fuck who's telling you to drop the project, people are dead, fucking *dead* and it's all because you fucking sank your dick into fucking bureaucratic bullshit!"

Quantico was a ghost town, the lights in the halls darkened, entire floors abandoned as they descended into a blank neglect that was unlikely to ever be brought back into life. As a stronghold, it wasn't exactly useful, it was too close to the Coastline borders and though the FBI had sympathy with the Mainlanders surrounding the building, they were too scattered to properly protect it. Jack's boss, Jade Purnell as well as the rest of the other upper level FBI officials, had found safe houses for the several thousand agents in their employ and had rehomed them into the relative safety of the inner Mainland in a matter of days, a feat of organization that Nigel couldn't help but admire. Sure, it was a monumental effort, but there was more than one project at stake here, and it seemed his now doomed Omegas were the last thing on the FBI's priority list.

"I can't give you the officers you need to get them out," Jack said, and he was clearly upset with the situation himself, his knuckles tight as he leaned back against his desk, his hands clasping onto the edge of the oak rim. "The GSF is keeping very close tabs on me, and any movement other than retreat from the FBI is going to be considered a threat. They will open fire on us, make no mistake." He gave Nigel's snarling fury an understanding growl of his own. "I can't risk losing any of my people, not with war imminent. The Mainland needs our expertise, with us on their side we can make any battle against the Coastline a fair fight. The GSF aren't as well trained for combat as we are, and as for the army, it holds more alliances with us as well. We can change everything, and believe me, if that happens, Omega trafficking will become a thing of the past. You'll be out of a job."

Nigel angrily shrugged at this. "So I'm to take up grave digging instead?" He set his jaw and stood nose to nose with Jack, not backing down. "Here's some fucking facts, Jack. The Russian militia in the Eastern Unions is watching what happens with this case very carefully. When I bring back bodies, there is going to be an international backlash against this, and I can guarantee you, this little war of yours is going to go well beyond the limits of your inner and outer borders. This is the kind of thing that can spark a lot of fucking anger all over the fucking world. Everything is going to burn, do you not fucking get that?"

Jack wiped at his jaw with a sweating palm, worry seeping out of every pore of his skin. He cursed under his breath and gave Nigel a resigned, tightly reigned sigh. "I can park the transport truck a block away, but that's as much and as close as I can go." He wouldn't look at Nigel as he spoke, the near dark of his dimmed office obscuring his expressions in shadows. Jack's office was his last stand in his domain and it was only now he had to finally admit that all was lost, that he had taken a fatal misstep by not telling Nigel the truth right from the beginning. At least, Nigel hoped this was what was going through the burly man's mind, because he wasn't about to let him off easy.

"Are you telling me I'm going in all on my own?" Nigel said, his lips taut. "You are sending me on a suicide mission. How am I going to rescue them without a shred of back up? How am I going to lift eighty dead and mostly dead into a fucking truck all on my own? You think I am that fucking crazy."

Jack gave him level glare at this, and Nigel didn't miss the bulldog stubbornness that suddenly assailed him. "I know you are. Good luck, Inspector Ionescu. The FBI is no longer working in the interests of United Main law, it is now a rogue army for the Mainland. This case is now officially out of my hands and completely in yours."

Nigel narrowed his eyes at this. He pulled a cigarette out of the pocket of his bowling shirt, one with bright blue flowers plastered all over it and one of Adam's favourites. He placed the cigarette between his lips and lit it with a match struck against the corner of Jack's desk. The amber tip lit bright in the gloom of the poorly lit office, the smoke framing the bare sections of walls where plaques and awards for outstanding service had once adorned it. He shook the match cold and tossed the scorched sliver onto the stained, beige carpet.

"You want the EU involved," Nigel said, the cigarette dancing around his words. "This whole thing was bullshit, you set me up to fail right from the beginning. You sacrificed those poor fucking Omegas in order to stir up some international rage. You fucking bastards, you're plunging us all into a fucking World War. Who gave you the order to do this? Was it Purnell or higher up?"

Jack didn't waver. "There's still time to save at least some of them."

"You fucking piece of shitlick dick prick, you stalled me on purpose, you fucking..." Nigel could feel his rage hot within him, his fists clenched tight as he stood with threatening intent against Jack Crawford, two Alphas ready to stand off until one of them was dead. "How does it feel, Mr. Crawford, being a fucking mass murdering son of a bitch?"

"They're still alive," Jack protested.

"Like fuck they are."

He wanted to kill him. Holy shit did he ever want to kill this man, but Nigel knew it would serve no purpose and he was wasting time as it was. He had to get to the warehouses and somehow not be assassinated by GSF in the process. Fuck Jack Crawford and his FBI and all the fucking bastards with their own goddamned agendas, he only had one, and it was crystal in its purity. Rescue the dying. Take care of the dead. Kick the ass of the bad guys who made that happen. Fuck all the other shit, none of it mattered.

He stormed out of Jack's office, leaving the large man alone in the gloom, his empty walls and former glory beat down by the heavy stomp of Nigel's heels. He had to get back to the Lecter-Graham's before nightfall to properly detail his already half-formed plan. He had to talk to Adam. He had to wait for his darling spaceman angel's stars to light his way and hope at least one of the Omegas buried underground could be still be saved.

~*~

It was early afternoon by the time he drove the Bentley back into its place in the driveway, GSF eyeing him with suspicion. The tweaking little bastard who'd planted himself near the side bushes walked up to the car and rapped his knuckles hard on the driver's window. Nigel turned off the engine before rolling the window down.

"Where did you go?" the little shit demanded.

"On a fucking goose chase. Had to get the fuck out of that house and clear my head, is that a crime now, too? Do you smell the stink of anything other than another fucking miserable Alpha on me? Fucking brother is giving me grief over the choice of coffin for our sister, so if you want to fucking argue with me and pick a fight now's the time you goddamned prick, I'm looking forward to putting my fists on *someone*."

The GSF twerp backed off at Nigel's obvious animal fury since he was considerably smaller and hardly a threat, but the loaded semi-automatic in his hand could do some damage and he looked like the type with a trigger finger. Nigel got out of the car and brushed past him, making sure to aggressively bump his shoulder, letting him know who was the bigger Alpha here. He spat on the ground before unlocking the front door and going into the house, all the while glaring over his shoulder at the three officers also staring him down. If they wanted to riddle him full of bullets, they'd had their chance. The fuckers were amateurs and stupid, and this at least was a small mercy.

He closed the door behind him and immediately headed for the atrium, but his laptop was not on the couch where he'd left it a few hours before. He cursed, remembering Dr. Lecter telling him that Will Graham had brought his duffel bag into a room upstairs, and he had probably put the laptop there as well after doing some small tidying up of their home. With weary steps and with his shoes still on, Nigel hauled himself up the grand staircase, the wood thick and silent beneath his feet.

He was the top of the stairs when he heard them, and it wasn't hard to miss the shock of bared flesh through the open door of their bedroom. Will Graham and Dr. Lecter were fucking, and from the whining keening Lecter was shouting out, it was clear he was getting it good. He was far from the voyeuristic type, but Nigel couldn't help but notice Lecter riding Will, his arms taut as he gripped the headboard, his neck covered in a black leather bonding collar that was zipped up to his chin. He couldn't be sure since he'd caught a glimpse and wasn't wanting to see more, but Lecter had to be wearing eye-liner, his eyes ringed in smudging black. His breasts swayed in time to his thrusts and Graham eagerly fondled them, ignoring the strained, hard cock that sprouted between them like the stamen of a flower.

"You're so beautiful." Graham buried his face in the soft mounds, heedless of the discomfort that must have caused. "Mon cher...You are so beautiful."

Lecter's cock spent at this, his body going limp as Will Graham pounded energetically into him until his knot made it impossible. Lecter's eyes rolled back as he collapsed and Graham was on top of him, kissing his breasts and leaving a trail of wet imprints of his lips along the dark leather covering Lecter's neck, wiry arms and hands supporting his mate's limp head as Lecter descended into that sublime coma that only knotting could bring.

Nigel dove into his room to grab his laptop, which was on the top of the quilted bedcovers, a far more tame setting than the one directly across from him. He was grateful they were too absorbed in their lovemaking to know he was there. He made a tentative move to leave, only to pause near his open door, keeping out of sight, but able to hear every word being said.

The lovemaking had taken a turn. Lecter, who should have been in a delirium of bliss, was emitting small, distressed sounds that tugged at Nigel's Alpha instincts, the terror and lamentation of it one he was all too familiar with. He could hear Will Graham's sudden concern, the hush of his voice as he comforted the Omega beneath him, and through a glimpse around the corner of the door Nigel witnessed the bonding collar being quickly unzipped and tossed aside as Will frantically gentled the back of Lecter's bared neck.

"No, no, no, you're not there, mon cher, that's not where you are. Shh, don't cry, you're with me, you're safe, no one is hurting you. Shh..."

A choked sound was his answer and Will Graham kissed Lecter's grimacing lips, hushing him. "We're in the atrium, mon cher. It's a sunny morning and you're checking on Judith and you noticed that she's having a bit of trouble, the monitors said her oxygen was low, and you were scared then, too, you were terrified, and I was there, wasn't I? And we took her out and she was born. Our baby. I breathed life into her, you remember that. That's where we are, we're in that moment right now, holding our baby, so happy to hear her little cry as she erupted into life. And you were so joyful, so beautiful. You were crying then, too. That's why there are tears, Hannibal."

Lecter let out a soft, relieved sigh at this, his fear dissipated as it morphed into a delicate sense of contentment. Nigel chanced another small look to make sure, and witnessed limbs tangled and languid that were unabashedly resting atop dark red silk bed covers. Will Graham pressed his lips against his Omega's throat, trailing downwards until he stopped at the raised nipple that was pink and erect at the tease of his warm mouth. "You held her at your breast, and she took from you. I never would have believed you to be so naked as you were in that moment, so full of fear and joy it couldn't help but burst past that cold outer suit you wear. So beautiful, mon cher." Will Graham puckered his lips and suckled at Lecter's breast, the Omega's glazed eyes closing in the warmth of remembrance, clearly finding peace in it.

Nigel fought the urge to gag. Will Graham was one sick fuck. Sucking the teat of his mate like that--Getting fucking *nursed*. He thought about what Lecter had told him about Graham's fixation and his mother issues, the evidence making his skin crawl in protest. The fact it redirected Lecter's distress into something positive was hardly the point, as the Alpha, Graham was still lucid and he doubted a fully conscious Lecter would have found such a thing erotic. What a fucking creepass weirdo.

At least he had an hour before they'd be roused, and Nigel snatched up his laptop, ready to make his escape from the bedroom to head back into the atrium. A quick glance at the happily fucked up couple revealed Graham lapping at Lecter's chest, thumbs teasing more milk from his leaking teats. How's that for needing fucking brain bleach. Nigel shuddered.

He silently made his way back down the stairs the laptop tucked under his arm. He needed to talk to Adam, now more than ever, the need for him a constant aching reminder within his very cells. He wouldn't tell him about the sick nature of his cousin's relationship with his Omega, and he sure as hell wasn't going to tell him how dangerous his mission was at this point. His darling angel would get reassurance and nothing else.

Once on the ground floor, Nigel peeled back a corner of the curtain at the side window that gave a good view of the front of the house. The GSF were collected in a single pack in front of the porch, obviously gossiping amongst themselves and heedless of the possibility of escape of the people within. The night would bring an excellent cover, and Nigel had every intention of using it.

He tiptoed back into the atrium and wasn't surprised to find the baby, Judith, softly fretting in her crib, the baby monitor next to her sending alerts into her parents' bedroom. Nigel picked up the transmitter and shut it off, there was no point causing distress to the couple locked together upstairs, a rather careless action in Nigel's view, but then, Alpha and Omega unions had that extra component and it was important to indulge in knotting at least once in a while. Frankly, considering the brutal abuse in his background, Nigel was surprised that Lecter hadn't opted for a Beta as a partner. But who was he to judge, he'd found his own Omega and it was a union that was as unlikely as the formation of life on their little blue marble of a sphere. Will Graham must be offering Dr. Lecter something, though what it was Nigel couldn't hazard a guess. Understanding? Friendship? The shape of love was twisted in their grip and impossible to untangle into anything that made sense. The sex was certainly vigorous enough, which was another surprise considering Lecter was a male Omega who had just experienced a complicated pregnancy not two months ago. He couldn't possibly be fully healed yet. What had Will meant when he'd said 'her oxygen was low'? Was she born prematurely? That would explain the need for CPR.

He didn't want to, but he felt a lurch of sympathy for Lecter at the fact he'd nearly lost his second child. He would have no one to blame this time, and Nigel had the feeling it would have completely destroyed him. He wasn't sure why, but he was happy the baby was healthy and very much alive. Lecter's reach was long. That kind of rage would have gone global.

What kind of devil was he dealing with?

He reached into the crib and picked up Judith, who fretted and fussed, the heaviness in her diaper a clear indication as to why. It wasn't a problem for Nigel, he'd changed enough nappies when Micah was a baby and he'd taken him for the night so Darko and Bianca could have some quality couple time. Their excursions never did result in any more children, but Nigel discovered he'd been pretty good at this taking care of babies thing. All the old tricks were quickly coming back, and before Judith had time to utter one little cry of discomfort the diaper was changed and he was tickling her bared tummy with a walk of his fingers along her chubby length, delighting in her giggles. He snapped her little fuzzy pink sleeper back up and picked her up out of the crib, nuzzling her belly with his face before holding her football style in one arm, the laptop in the other.

"I'm sorry I called your Mama a monster," he said to the squirming little bundle. "If you knew what your Mama did to his enemies, you would agree with me. But still, that's your Mama. It's not my place to say such a thing to you, little one. Here, come with me, I have someone I want you to meet. He says goodnight to the moon in the sky all the time. Maybe one day he will go there and get a piece of it for you. How about that, you could say, my Uncle Spaceman Adam asked the angels for a piece of the moon and they gave it to him and he gave it to me. Such a little giggler! You like the idea of that, little precious? I don't think a piece will be enough, you're the kind who will want the whole thing! It will be hard for him to haul it out of the heaven like that, you mustn't be so greedy!"

He sat in a chair at the kitchen island and flipped open his laptop, turning on Skype. He waited for Adam to answer. He didn't. Frowning, Nigel watched the screen for a long while, hoping to have any sign of his little spaceman show up, but the alerts remained silent. He kissed the top of Judith's head as she began to clutch at his chest, clearly hungry and demanding food he wasn't able to give her. He wondered if Lecter had stored any milk in the refrigerator and he left the laptop open and running while he went to check. Of course there were, four of them in all, neatly labelled and with strict instructions on a sticky note to Will Graham as to how to best reheat them. Nigel shrugged and took one of the bottles out, still balancing Judith in his arm and taking the bottle to the sink, where he ran it under hot water, shaking it periodically, his thumb stopping the tip. He did this until a shot of it on the back of his hand indicated it was at the proper temperature.

He balanced her and the bottle as he made his way back to the laptop and when he saw no further activity on his Skype, he walked with her back into the warmth of the atrium. Judith contentedly and loudly sucked in a meal, little gurgles of pleasure leaving her. She reached up to grip the bottle, tiny fingers surrounding it but without enough strength to keep it there without help. Her wide blue eyes took in Nigel's face as she ate, fascinated at this stranger who was so expert at taking care of her.

"You're not so difficult at all," Nigel said, and he pulled the bottle away when it was clear she'd had enough, and brought her little larval body up to his shoulder, and rubbed at her back with his palm. The scent of her was absolutely intoxicating in the calming effect it had on the tense mood within the house, and Nigel found himself hoping he could bring some of this into his own home. It might be years yet, of course. But Adam hadn't said no, he'd promised to be open to the idea.

Nigel, stop being a fucking idiot.

Death was what was waiting for him. War was imminent and here he fucking was thinking of starting a family. What the fuck is wrong with you, Nigel Ionescu, he admonished himself. You can't go having babies when the whole world was ready to puke bullets.

"What kind of place are we in, precious little one, hm? Your Mama wants to raise hell. Does he have a shovel nearby, I wonder? Why do I need that, well, it should be clear, even to you, little precious. He's the one burning it all down, and I'm the one left to shovel his shit. Not a nice thing to do, little one. Not nice at all."