Been A Son

BEEN A SON
chapter thirteen

Wednesday. Hump Day and the campaign trail was in full swing, with bands playing and streets closed and the threat of protest all around as an army of police in full riot gear lined the sidewalks in an intimidating wall of might. The simmering, anticipatory mood was beaten down by the tired masses who barely paid attention to any of it. Right now, the opinions of a scant few had the time to be heard and the duty of these Baltimore residents on this mild Coastline early spring day was to call into radio talk shows and thread conspiracy theories into Omegan ovaries. 'Good Morning Baltimore' , the billboards for the current show plastered on every public transit bus throughout the city, had an entire segment dedicated to the Make A Family campaign and the issues surrounding the platform. As is always the case in open forum public discussion, the moron with the biggest mouth always got to the loudspeaker first.

"This is Good Morning Baltimore, with your host, Sally Hassein. I'm here with Governor McBain's current representative, Donald Trevor, who is taking your calls. Governor McBain is currently at Sherwood Gardens and would love your support, so drop on by--just mind that crazy traffic heading into St. Paul, it's bottlenecked all the way to the West University Parkway! We'll take our first caller. On the line now is Bobby Darwin--interesting name--How are you Mr. Darwin?"

"I'd be just fine if these Mainlanders would quit with their high and mighty attitude when it comes to how we do things here on the Coast. It's scandalous the way they treat their Omegas, like they're free to just walk around and they are terribly promiscuous, never know whose kid is whose. Always got a pile of them, big mix of Betas and Omegas and only a few Alphas among them, real waste of resources, I say. They got no filter when it comes to sex, those Mainland Omegas, they just go with whatever suits them and it's a damned shame to see that kind of amorality rampant in our country, a damned shame.."

"I agree, Mr. Darwin," Donald Trevor responded. "And let me be the first to say that when Governor McBain gets elected these problems are of the highest priority and his solutions will be brought to congress. The United Main needs to be a place where the law is uniform for all of its citizens and implementing it puts those most at risk under its safe blanket. We are a strong country and we need to stay that way, and that can only happen if Alphas are given the birthright they deserve, and let's face it, Omegas are a part of that. Regulation of Alpha children ratios to Alpha and Omega bonding must be enforced as soon as possible in order to..."

A shaky hand slapped at the radio, forcing it into static. In the garage of the Graham-Lecter home, a Bentley sat idling, its windows covered in spring thaw steam that beaded along the interior. Several handprints smeared the dew along the rear windshield, the steam filling them but not enough to hide the shadows of figures writhing behind them, loud panting and curses in Lithuanian filling the roomy interior of the back seat. The disorganized rhythm of these sounds gradually morphed into steady, more harmonious cries that conjoined in an increase in tempo, the press of a forehead against the back window met with hot breath against the glass, and grasping hands that reached forward, knuckles dragging long lines through the opaque damp. A loud, shuddering moan that quickly turned into a pleading, escalating chorus broke free through this groaning music followed not long afterwards by a breathlessly intoned, "Fuck...Hannibal..." and an answering, high pitched whine.

Will collapsed against the passenger door in the back seat, Hannibal's chest heaving from exertion as he sat directly across from him. Diving his feet in, Will slid his trousers back up, zipping and buttoning himself back together while Hannibal retrieved his pants from the front seat after cleaning himself up first with a pair of Will's underwear, which Will had discarded earlier and didn't bother putting back on. "You're right." Will was breathless as he watched Hannibal slide his long legs into the trousers of his expensive, colourful plaid suit, the shimmering fabric giving one the impression of opalescence. "It's a lot more fun to decide who's going to drive when we're already in the car." He tossed the keys to Hannibal who caught them with one hand and then moved back as Hannibal rather inelegantly climbed from the back of the car and to the front driver's seat, stealing a playful kiss from Will along the way. Hannibal's suit was significantly rumpled, and his perfectly coiffed hair didn't quite go back to its smooth geometry, but for once he didn't seem to mind the mess he'd made of himself.

Will slowly inched his way into the passenger seat beside him, and buckled himself in after he turned off the radio, putting the Bentley into a blissful silence free of white noise. "Jack said it's a pretty bad scene," Will warned him. He watched as Hannibal picked up the beige silk he'd lain on the dashboard and began winding it around his neck in a careful herringbone pattern, though it was an awkward effort in the cramped confines of the car. Will took the two ends of folded silk from him and wove the pattern himself, he'd seen Hannibal perform the simple layering enough times to know what to do. Two layers up, one layer down, not too tight, but not loose either.

Hannibal was silent as Will worked the silk, the moment charged with meaning as Will realized the last time he'd done this it was to force Hannibal to submit to him and become bonded. Now, it was Will performing an act of gentle persuasion, mindful of Hannibal's comfort and keeping a great deal of contrition in the way he handled the silk. There was an unreadable tension in Hannibal, and Will braced himself against a cold onslaught of Hannibal induced protest, but instead he was surprised by Hannibal's caress at his neck, his thumb grazing Will's cheek as he bid him to make eye contact. Will shakily complied, and he leaned closer, the ends of silk hanging loose as it was wrapped around his fingers.

"You are a remarkable creature, Will Graham," Hannibal said, and the air between them was charged with that indefinable energy that not even sex could cure. Hannibal raised his chin in seeming pride, but it was more out of reverence for the feelings swirling in symbolic chaos between them. "If I told you I loved you, it would far miss the mark of how I truly feel. There is no word yet invented for what your influence in my life does to me. There is so much I long to give you." He slid his hands around Will's wrists, caressing them softly as he bid Will to finish the knot, which he did with stumbling, trembling fingers. "That which should have been yours has forever been stolen." Hannibal leaned forward when Will was done and lightly kissed him, his gaze still holding onto that strange, unreadable depth that Will wasn't sure what to do with. "I sometimes fear that what we offer each other in these moments will not be enough. Where are we going, Will? Did uncle Jack give us our co-ordinates?"

Shaken back into the present moment and the reason they were in the car together in the first place, Will broke the embrace and checked his cell phone, the GPS app brought into life. "It's in a wooded area just off of I-95, just before we get to Wolf Trap, actually. I'm not going to see this as a coincidence, I'm convinced there's a message in this murder, only I don't think it's for me." He frowned in twitching nervousness as Hannibal started up the car, graceful fingers punching in the area Jack had given them into his own GPS on the Bentley. "He didn't give me much details, but I know you haven't been actively killing anyone lately, so this must be our Omega murderer." Will gave Hannibal's stoic posture a tentative once over. "It won't be one of yours. Right?"

"It's not," Hannibal assured him, a fondness at Will's concern mired in amusement. "Which leaves us to conclude one thing--Our Omega murderer has decided to start up his favourite hobby again after being silent for three months. Considering the state of the last corpse he left us, I am quite sure we will be forced to witness a scene of equal brutality. He is not much for subtlety, our killer. I must admit a certain trepidation, this is not something I am particularly looking forward to, especially now that my gender has been fully revealed. I hope my biological commonalities with the victim do not impede the investigation, the forensic team may find it difficult to separate my own experiences from the scene."

"Experiences, meaning your kidnapping and killing of Doemling, which you still haven't talked to myself or Jack about." Will gave him an exasperated sigh. "I can't force you to give a statement, for once the GSF laws are in your favour, but it would be in our interest in catching this creep to know what happened."

"You have put enough of a picture together, Will, you do not need a Polaroid. The killer is unskilled and sloppy and yet he avoids capture. He is also foolish enough to scrawl a quick sentence upon his crimes via where he discards his victims. A geographical post it note." They pulled onto the main road heading for the highway, and Hannibal gave Will's quiet contemplation some food for thought. "He is not sending you the message, that you are sure of. But he leaves them for you in places close to you, so he is seeking to send the message to someone who stands beside you."

Will frowned. "So what are you saying?"

"I think it's obvious, Will." Hannibal pursed his lips as he smoothly pulled onto the highway. He was a far more careful driver than Will, his control of the Bentley as easy as his own graceful steps. "He is sending the message to the Chesapeake Ripper. The murders are telegrams directed at me."

Will felt a bullet of understanding hit the bottom of his heart and he stared, wide-eyed at Hannibal, his fists clenched tight in his lap. "That means he knows who you are." Will shook his head, his lips moving over words he couldn't quite form. Inside of himself the white bones of the stag's antlers clawed around his guts, tearing into him until his insides were nothing but tissue rendered into a meaty confetti. "Hannibal, if there's something you know about this guy, you need to tell me, he could come after you at any time and thanks to Freddie Lounds he knows where you work. Listen, even if he is nothing more than some base bottom feeder he could really do some damage to you." Unbidden, an image of the last male Omega victim erupted into his mind, the white antlers sprouting from his chest cavity into the dense blue sky above his corpse into a twining infinity. Blood pooled from the splits in the ice, the river he found sanctuary in tainted with threat. Will shuddered. "I can't live with that. I can't let him do that."

Hannibal glanced over at Will, the Bentley gently turning down the exit that would be a direct line to his home in Wolf Trap. "It was only last night that you confessed to me that whatever I deem necessary, you are willing to follow me. The sentiment was sincere at the time, but has it waned in the light of morning? What I am truly asking, Will, is a question that is far more difficult to ask because of the implications should the answer be abused." Hannibal's hands were light on the steering wheel, his driving gloves accentuating his slender fingers, making them appear like accessories upon a sculpture of fashion and flesh.

"Do you trust me, Will?"

The white bones of antlers were creeping over them from the back seat of the car, pointed tips grazing against the back of Will's neck, hoping to draw blood. They obscured his view, covering the windows in a thick lace of dangerous spikes, aiming to invade him. Hannibal continued to drive blind, the antlers covering the entirety of the front windshield. He could see nothing but Hannibal and the dangers he represented, that which he didn't know could easily turn its obscurity onto Will, and destroy him.

"Yes," Will said, and placed a firm hand on Hannibal's strong thigh. Hannibal's lips twitched in a tender smile at this, his head bowed in the tiniest gesture of demure gratitude.

By the time the GPS announced their arrival at their destination, the atmosphere in the Bentley had become one of absolute calm. Will napped against Hannibal's shoulder as he drove, his mind thankfully a blank as he drifted in and out of consciousness for the nearly two hour ride. Hannibal parked the Bentley beside Jack's grey Impala and turned off the ignition. In the distance, forensics were huddled over what looked to be two figures laying in the spring muck, marble skin reflecting the morning sun's rays. Lately, the sun awoke with the perpetual promise of death, Will realized.

Will had brought galoshes to slip into and they were waiting for him in a plastic bag in the back seat. He bit the inside of his cheek, hiding his grin as he knew Hannibal had, yet again, wore highly inappropriate shoes to the crime scene.

Jack was already waving at them before they got out of the car, his bulky figure blending in with the thawing earth surrounding him and the forensics crew in rich tones of brown, grey and receding white. Will cricked his neck and let out a deep sigh, bracing himself before unbuckling the safety belt and leaving the Bentley, Hannibal following close behind. Jack approached them, his coat open, the wool hem caught in a teasing temperate breeze. "We got two of them this time," he said, and all of Will's worst fears were instantly realized. "Two Omega females, both in their late teens or early twenties. Jimmy says the time of death is two days ago and he's confident they died close to the same time. It's not a scene like the last one, the brutality is missing but I've got a hunch about it, there has to be some sign of this guy's signature. There's another big difference, these girls weren't anonymous. They were reported missing by their parents over a week ago."

Will walked quickly to the scene, not giving Jack time to finish. The killer had chosen to dump the bodies in what was usually a heavily wooded area, though at present it was easily penetrable thanks to the husks of naked trees that lined the highway for miles. The two young women were face down in the mud, exposed to the elements and from the silence and sombre motions of the forensics team, it was clear the lonely melancholy of the crime was in stark abundance as it had been in the last one of a trafficked Omega with no friend in the world. Beverly stood up beside the young Omega female she was crouched near, and gave Will a curt, angry nod. "I don't understand any of this," Beverly said, taking in the barren landscape and the unnatural pose of the dead young Omegas face down in its midst. She turned away from the bodies, tears threatening to spill. "It's not hormones this time, whatever Zeller and Price think. These poor kids could be Betas or Alphas, the fact they are Omegas means nothing right now. They were just girls, Will. What kind of prick thinks he has the right to do something like this?"

Will placed a strong hand on her shoulder and Beverly silently nodded at the strength his touch tried to give her. She sniffed loudly and braced her shoulders as she got ready to leave and allow Will his solitude to give his empathy play. "Do you need a rundown of our findings?" she asked.

Will grimaced and shook his head. "I'm sure I'll find it all out as I go along."

Beverly gave him a look that had enough sympathy to flatten him. No one wanted what he had, and it was clear that Beverly didn't envy his abilities when it came to these kinds of cases.

He waited until she was well past the yellow tape before letting the pendulum swing.

...They are alone, bereft of family and friends, and I have orchestrated it. I have given them a promise of sanctuary and they believe me because I am a figure on the fringe, they have an uneasy friendship with me. They recognize me, the one with red hair has family ties to me, and she considers me an old friend. They are young and easy to fool. When I send them off to their Fate, my pockets are lined thick and I am free of what happens next. I am not their murderer. This is not my design.

The killer is happy with his purchase and they don't understand what has happened, yet, they think he is doing a favour for a friend.

I am the killer. I purchased these girls and pretended to be their ally. This one, with dyed red hair and skin so clear it could be made of marble, she is innocent and pure and I want my fun with her, but it was cut short by this other, this viper with strong muscles and a brute strength I did not expect. She tore into me with her bare hands, attacking me as an animal, and I still bear the scars of how she wounded me. She was likewise killed quickly for she wasn't easy, she didn't allow me my base pleasures, she fought too hard and I'm not used to this kind of prey. She tore at me like she could kill me herself. This is not what I understand. This is different and yet familiar. I am frightened by her power, and I shoot her point blank in the centre of her forehead, killing her instantly. That wasn't my plan. I wanted my fun and I didn't get it, not by a long shot. Two bodies to dispose of now, and I thought I was going to be able to sate my needs for a while. This one stole that from me. Such a waste.

For this transgression, both she and her friend's bodies will be tossed into the muck, naked. Her body is free of my usual cuts and bruises, my common torture adornments. I am nervous as I leave this calling card. Will the person I am trying to communicate with know? I don't want him to, and yet, I feel a perverse need to tempt that unexpected danger again. My curiosity wants to pull him out of the earth. Look at me, damn you. Look at my design and weep, you bitch...

"They were runaways, and chances are their parents are looking for them. I think they might have been in a relationship, I can't know for sure. They had a plan in mind and they were heading for the Mainland when they met someone they recognized, someone they thought they could trust because of his social status." Will opened his eyes, his head shaking slightly as Hannibal stood beside him. "She put up a real fight," Will said, not seeing him, his hand blindly seeking him out behind him and finding the lapel of his wool coat. "There's going to be plenty of evidence under her nails, and I'm betting she bit him. She was vicious. Relentless. It's why he had to kill her quickly, along with her friend."

The lapel of Hannibal's coat broke free of Will's grip as Hannibal collapsed to the ground, a low sob escaping his throat. Blinking into the confusion of the present reality, Will searched for him, finding him on the ground beside the dead Omega female and he half wondered if he was still trapped in that empathic dream, visions swirling before him that made no sense. Hannibal had turned her over, and Beverly was shouting at him from the distance as she ran towards the scene, begging him not to disturb evidence. Hannibal had collapsed to his knees in the mud, his legs soaked in earth, his gloved hands covering his mouth as loud cries left him, a howling sorrow that cut deep inside of Will's heart, leaving him reeling at the power of its despair.

"For fuck's sake." Brian Zeller got to Will first, his hands open and helpless at this near destruction of key evidence. "We haven't even taken the photos yet, he's messed this up. *This* is why Omegas don't belong at a crime scene..."

Will couldn't stop himself. His fist went flying before the thought did, and when his knuckles hit Brian Zeller's cheek with a satisfying crunch, knocking him to the ground, it was a heady satisfaction that coursed through Will, not vindication.

~*~
Hannibal could read the signs by now, and he knew as he dove beneath the yellow police tape that Will's inner pendulum had stopped spinning and his envisioning of the crime scene was nearly complete. He gingerly stepped over the various puddles and mud patches, careful to place the heels of his Bally's leather drivers onto clumps of dead leaves. He had done a fairly good job of keeping himself free of wet earth and he stood behind Will, liking the way Will didn't turn around but instead searched for him by touch alone, gaining purchase on the lapel of Hannibal's wool Burberry coat. Hannibal sighed and glanced down at the corpse at his feet, bemoaning the fate of yet another unfortunate Omega, and he felt a sadness rise within him that he hadn't been able to get to them first and recreate them into agents of his divine army.

He frowned as he looked upon the young Omega female, laying face down in the muck, the set of her shoulders and the small mole at her neck sending a knowing chill through him that he hadn't experienced since his inner dungeon worthy moments. With Mischa whispering in his ear and the clang of the iron shackle snapping shut as it cut into his neck, Hannibal raised the body slightly with the toe of his shoe to get a small look at the face that was so cruelly smeared into the earth.

Mischa.

No.

The sound of water dripping in a forgotten, basement washroom, blood pooled thick around him.

No.

He sank to the ground on his knees and gripped her shoulders, turning her over onto her back. He cradled her head in his lap, her neck stiffened at an unnatural angle as he tearfully wiped the mud from her face, tearing dead, grey leaves from her small, once timid lips, knowing he was never to see them smile at him in secretive pride again. He felt the sobs crumbling him but he couldn't stop them, he couldn't hide the trauma of this behind his cold facade when he had so carefully birthed her, this precious warrior who he had promised would do battle with him again and become a glorious victor. He had given her strength, had fashioned her into a creature of unmitigated power who knew nothing of fear. He'd dried her tears and turned them into laughter as she wielded her knife, cutting into her tormentors. She was his child, and she had been stolen from him.

There was an altercation going on behind him, but Hannibal could barely hear it and didn't care to know it, his mourning taking all central precedence. He hugged her cold, stiff body close and kissed her icy cheek before finally releasing her back to his lap, where he stroked her dry hair, picking leaves from the knotted locks.

A thick hand met his shoulder, and Hannibal was roused enough to look upwards, the outline of Jack Crawford standing beside his kneeled form, his fedora put into a dark cameo with the blinding sunlight blasting behind him. "Dr. Lecter, you've contaminated the scene," he gruffly said. "You know better than this and I'm not going to the let the whole Omega hormones bullshit fly, you have never been anything but a cold assessor, you weren't even moved by the male Omega the last time and that one was in heat..."

"She's one of mine," Hannibal said, fighting to keep his swirling emotions under control, this lapse such a serious breach of his decorum he couldn't stop the choke that broke through. "Her name is Victoriana Alcott, and she is eighteen years old. She was my patient. She was one of the young Omegan women sullied by Robert Allen and Salvo Cortez." His eyes filled with tears again as he smoothed down her hair from her forehead, remembering how gleeful she was when she sank the knife in for the first time and proved herself strong enough to fight through Salvo Cortez's screams. He cast a glance to the other victim, a friend he knew nothing about. "Her favourite colour was red."

"Dr. Lecter, you need to let her go." Jack's voice was strangely soft, and Hannibal wasn't sure he wanted to allow this parting, not when it was so obvious that this was his child, she had been in his care and he was the one responsible for her.

"Her parents only sent her to me because they thought I was a desperate unbonded Alpha who would take what he could get. They knew I was wealthy, they were hoping for a windfall for their retirement." A wet tear hit Victoriana's ice cold, grey cheek and he quickly wiped it away with a gloved thumb. "No one is going to properly mourn her, Jack. No one but me."

He felt a deep pressure against the back of his neck, calming him before Will's arms slid down his own, parting him from Victoriana's body. A familiar, unbearable wave of sadness hit him, and he shivered as he stood up, every molecule in his body set to stone and slowly bringing him back into his usual cold person suit, one that buried all these hurts deep within it. He braced himself and tried to avoid the glare of Jack Crawford at his back as Will steered him towards the yellow police tape and beyond to the Bentley, his usefulness for the day clearly spent. He frowned as he passed Brian Zeller who had a cut under his eye and a growing bruise in a thick halo around it. Will stroked Hannibal's cheek, bidding him to look at him, and all Hannibal really wanted to do was sink into his arms and suck every ounce of warmth from Will that he could.

"Wait in the car. I can drop you off at home, and go back to the lab after, I don't mind the drive..."

"I will go with you to Quantico," Hannibal said, and he wouldn't allow an argument on the matter. He was going to give Victoriana Alcott the respect her death deserved. She was his child, the warrior he had fashioned. Such divinity was not to be unduly tarnished.

Jack Crawford watched Will intently as he slammed the door shut on Hannibal, enclosing him safely within the privacy of the Bentley. Hannibal's sorrow threatened to spill anew, and he could still feel the weight of Victoriana in his arms, his precious warrior, her death rendered meaningless by the coward's method that had killed her. Instinctively, he pressed his hands tight against his abdomen, the hollow feeling he couldn't shake echoing his cries within it. He leaned against the steering wheel and closed his eyes, his arms wrapped around his stomach.

There was a knock on the passenger window, startling him, and he turned to see Beverly Katz looking down on him, her forehead pinched into a deep frown. She opened the door and slid into the seat beside him, concern wafting off of her like perfume. "Hey, you okay?"

Hannibal could see Will and Jack arguing in the distance, not far from the crime scene. Zeller had joined them, his faces inches from Jack and from what Hannibal could see it looked like the trio was about to come to blows. He couldn't hear what they were saying to each other, but it was clearly volatile.

"The victim was my patient," Hannibal said to Beverly, and she slid back against her seat, utterly defeated. She punched the dashboard, cursing. Hannibal knew Beverly was having a hard time with these murders herself, and he had to wonder if she was having flashbacks of the male Omega's body, that particular scene traumatizing her so much she couldn't process it. "I'm sorry I contaminated the scene," Hannibal evenly said. "I should have been more professional."

"Jesus Christ, Dr. Lecter, we're just human beings." Beverly sighed and leaned back in the passenger seat, the back of her head resting on the cushioned pad. She closed her eyes as though willing all of the death and murder on that thawed, wet horizon away and Hannibal found he desperately wished she had the power to do it.

"We do this job thinking we can handle it, that it's just like any other, we go in and do what we need to do and go home." She opened her eyes and turned to Hannibal, her frustrated expression belying a sense of failure. "We look at the evil that people can do to each other and we're not supposed to be affected by it. I wouldn't be any better than the monster that did that to those girls if that were true. Shit like this, it puts its hooks in us. It makes victims of us, too." She grabbed Hannibal's arm and squeezed and he found he appreciated the honesty of her touch. "Sometimes, when we're in that lab and I have to dig through the guts of yet another murdered kid, I see myself on that table. There's been days that image is so clear in my head I have to leave the room and pretend I need to get a coffee. But I don't. I just need to get the hell out, away from the stink of death and fear." She shook her head as she bitterly laughed. "The nightmares don't leave, but I'm guessing you already know that. Every crime is one more horror waiting when I close my eyes at night. When morning comes, we all pretend everything is fine and we pop aspirin, get a cup of coffee and keep going. As the Alpha of the team, I'm expected to just push it all aside and bulldoze my way through the work. If that prick McBain gets his way, I'll be mandated to pop out Alpha babies, too, one more stress to add to the pile." She shook her head at the very thought. "Maybe other people can compartmentalize better than I can, but this job is getting close to breaking me, Dr. Lecter. I don't know how much more of this I can suffer, I'm seriously thinking of leaving the field."

The heavy weight of emotions in the car were the same as Victoriana's as she lay in his arms, and Hannibal fought to keep the burden of Mischa's frozen corpse at bay as well as that other leaden anchor, tiny but unbearable, the memory pressed against his chest ready to smash him as easily as one shatters a thrown teacup. "Can I see another's woe, And not be in sorrow too? Can I see another's grief, And not seek for kind relief? Blake said it best, we are compelled to enact compassion when it is begged of us. Monsters have no place in his poetry, which is a fact I take great comfort in. Not for them is the beauty of this world. Those who seek to destroy shall never know the realm of love, be it from one stranger to another, a father towards his injured child..." Hannibal inhaled deeply, forcing equilibrium onto the darkness rising to the surface within him and masking it in his stoic calm. "Or a mother for her weeping infant. It takes courage to love, Beverly, and what we fight against are acts of terrified cowardice against that power. The strength we possess comes from the ranks of generals."

Beverly pondered what he'd said, a light frown etching her features into a fierce intelligence he couldn't help but admire. "You talk like we're at war."

"Are we not?"

Will and Jack began heading back to the road, and Beverly took that as her cue to go back to work. The sombre posture of the two men gave Hannibal pause, and he decided now was the time to surrender, and it would be to Beverly, who was desperately needing a rung of that professional ladder to cling to. "When I was held prisoner by Cordell Doemling I overheard him on his cell phone with a potential buyer. It seems any Omega is worth putting on the auction block, including middle aged professionals steeped in chemical Alpha hormones." He gave Beverly's stricken look a bland one in return. "I suspect these victims came from a similar transaction."

"You've never talked about what happened, Jack is pissed you never gave a witness statement and hid behind being bonded to Will to avoid it. Hannibal, you need to tell Jack..."

"I'm telling you," he said, curtly cutting her off. Will was still far enough away to not see his actions, and Hannibal shifted in his seat, pushing his coat and jacket aside to lift the hem of his white cotton shirt. He turned in his seat, giving her a glimpse of the faded outline of the Verger brand on his skin. He pieced himself together again quickly as Will approached. "You will find similar brands on the bodies. They're different from the ones he uses on his pigs, of course, but the reasoning is the same. We were part of his stock."

Beverly held her hand to her mouth as though she was going to be sick. "That goddamned son of a bitch."

"Please, Ms. Katz. Don't tell Will. He is very protective of me." Hannibal kept his focus on the steering wheel in front of him. "There's no telling what he might do to avenge my honour."

Will stepped up to the Bentley and opened the driver's side door, bidding Hannibal to step out and giving curious looks to Beverly who practically dove out of the car from the passenger side, her hand still caging her mouth as she marched back to Zeller and Price, ready to take over the scene. "You're not driving," Will said to him, and held out his hand, seeking the keys.

Hannibal slammed the driver's door shut and remained where he was, pouting over the steering wheel. He'd won this privilege fair and square and no amount of Will's sighing concern was going to take that small victory from him.

~*~
The drive to Quantico was tortuous, filled with a tension Will didn't know how to dissipate. He tried to gentle the back of Hannibal's neck and felt it like a slap when Hannibal winced at his touch, his shoulders twitching in discomfort. It was such a contrast from what they enjoyed that morning Will felt like they had suffered days instead of a couple of hours in the interim. "Jack thinks having you on the team is becoming a liability if you can't keep your emotions in check," Will informed him. "He's being a hotheaded asshole, and Brian even called him out on it. Brian apologized, admitted he was way out of line and Jack accused him of pandering to your 'Omega sensitivity'." Will laughed at this, though Hannibal didn't share in the mirth. "Jack can't see he's the only one afflicted by over-reaching hormones getting the best of him, he saw you upset and went into full on Papa Bear Alpha mode. His instincts to protect you run a lot deeper than I thought, he thinks you're the most vulnerable member of his pack and maybe he's right, at least on the surface. You'll note he didn't come tearing into you about messing up a crime scene, he left all that fury for me." Will sat rigid and unhappy in his seat, constantly stealing glances at the stoic, cold form of Hannibal as he concentrated on the highway in front of them. "I've never seen you lose it like that before. I know she was your patient, but I can honestly say I've never seen you like that, it was like someone ripped a large piece out of you that was fragile and precious." Will choked on his words, his head shaking slightly as unwelcome memories came roaring back and the sight of Hannibal on his knees at the BHCI crawled through the white antler bones lurking in wait within his skull. "The only time I've heard you make a sound like that was when you submitted and became bonded to me. This time it was protracted, a released echo, your cries a malignant sorrow that's long festered."

Hannibal braced himself at the steering wheel, his cold persona drifting over him in icy sheets. "I have to wonder, dear Will, why you believe that turning your empathy on another is devoid of consequence. Perhaps it is not wise to go picking through another's mind like you are harvesting a crop, especially when that person is not willing to till a very ugly garden."

"I can't stop myself from going there any less than you can stop yourself from manipulating situations to your advantage. You lost it back there and I need to know why and either I figure it out and pick at your bones until they gleam in my mind, fully exposed, or you can make it easier on the both of us and simply tell me." He forced a firm hand on the back of Hannibal's neck, the pressure making Hannibal sigh and his eyes slightly roll back in sensual response, his gloved hands tight on the steering wheel. There was the honk of a horn as a car speeded past them, Hannibal nearly veering into the side lane. Will was heedless of the danger he was courting. "Hannibal, talk to me."

His breath uneven, Hannibal put on his signal light and smoothly moved over two lanes to get off the road and bring the Bentley to idle at the side. His grip was still tight on the steering wheel as they remained parked, the silence cutting into Will as easily as one of Hannibal's kitchen knives.

"I had a twin sister," Hannibal said, and Will felt the stag's antlers piercing every vein in his body, shards of it breaking off as they painfully coursed through his bloodstream. Hannibal pursed his lips, the memory lurking behind them reluctant to come out. "Her name was Mischa and she was an Omega, like me. As her brother, I was responsible for her safety, a duty I took very seriously. Lithuania was in the midst of a civil war at the time. Its economy had collapsed and there were looters, mostly made up of people from the larger outlying cities who had more weapons than sense. They rioted and burned down entire neighbourhoods, and when they arrived at Lecter castle they burned it to the ground, leaving behind two orphans and charred ruins. My father and mother died in those flames, though whether or not they were shot first is a constant fluctuation in my imperfect memory of those moments. Sometimes I hear the gunshots, sometimes it is only their screams. I was nine at the time, so allowances must be made for childhood fabrication." Hannibal let out a bitter chuckle at this. "They thought we were wealthy, but old money holds onto titles, not riches. The looters were quite disappointed to discover there was nothing of real value in the castle, it had all long been auctioned off to support its upkeep."

Will wasn't sure he needed to hear this story, it was a convenient one full of sufficient horror, he was sure, but he knew in that way that his empathy dug into the all the crevices he now understood within Hannibal's deep ocean crags, this memory was a rock placed at the edge of that endless abyss. "What happened then?" Will asked, raising a brow and trying not to show his impatience with Hannibal's deflection.

"Mischa and I fled, into the snow. We were both children and the elements were against us. We lasted four nights before she finally succumbed to hypothermia, despite my best efforts to keep her warm. We couldn't light fires, you see, lest the looters discover us." Hannibal's mouth pursed into a good show of repressed emotion, and while Will knew the history did have an echo inside of Hannibal's inner memory palace dungeon, it was not the only thing causing him torment now. "I had to leave her body behind. Within less than half an hour, soviet troops discovered me and rescued me. Mischa had been dead twenty minutes." Hannibal tapped his fingers along the circumference of the steering wheel, as though measuring out notes. "I was responsible for her, as I was for Victoriana, and they are now both dead. As you can imagine, I find it a difficult trauma to revisit."

Will bit his bottom lip and nodded, considering what Hannibal had just told him. He leaned towards his Omega, and caressed the length of his throat, stopping just at that spot where the scar was hidden beneath the layers of silk and it was there that Hannibal suddenly shuddered, the dark abyss inside of his drowning ocean letting out a thick, black bubble of feeling.

"I know you can't tell me yet," Will said, shaking his head at Hannibal's folly. "The truth of what happened back there is going to come out eventually, it is hovering on the surface of your skin and it will break and you will bleed. You wanted me to know you, Hannibal, and this is the price you are paying for that."

Hannibal let out a huff of annoyance at Will's keen perception and turned the key in the ignition, revving the engine, blinkers on as he made his way back onto the highway and towards the lab at Quantico. Will knew, without tempting it, that the sharp white tips of the antlers had cut deep into Hannibal as well, though he refused to show Will his wounds. Whatever Hannibal had seen in Victoriana's corpse, it had far less to do with a tragic childhood death and had more in common with a crying baby getting into a taxi cab, and a mother waving her thanks. Red mittens under snow. He had no idea what that inward image meant and he kept it tucked inside of himself, not willing to allow Hannibal to know he'd glimpsed it. It felt dangerous as it swirled inside of Will's own little cage of protective antlers, secrets wailing and threatening to break free.