Will graham woke once again in a cold sweat. Waking from his hazy slumber he gasped for air, unaware of his surroundings. He felt a firm but warm grasp on his arm, accompanied by a soft Danish accent uttering wearily "It is okay, Will". The mattress yawned as he turned over to meet the eyes of his beloved. He nuzzled his head into the space between the elder mans neck and shoulder, his breathing returning to a comfortable pace. Hannibal gently ran his fingers through Wills hair, twisting his caramel curls between his fingers, lulling his young lover back into a trance like sleep. "Sleep now will, I'm your friend, I always will be and more." yawned Hannibal as he drifted off into a deep slumber.

A pale light seeped through the blinds into the master bedroom. There Will woke to find himself alone, only realising so after stretching his hand out to reach nothing but sheets and linen. Startled, he climbed out of bed and threw on his old shirt, pyjama bottoms and drew a black silk dressing gown around him for warmth; he felt the cold more than he used to.

From the bedroom he travelled down through the living room into the kitchen. There he saw Hannibal, busying himself around the stove and kitchen units. "Ah, you're awake I see" Hannibal called over his shoulder. Will cautiously crept towards Dr Lecter, placing his hand on the taller mans shoulder. Turning round, lector softly cupped a hand over Will's sunken cheek and drew him in, pressing his lips firmly against the other mans. He lowered his hand and wrapped his arms around will's slim waist, as he gazed longingly into his eyes. Will ran his fingers across the doctor's bare chest, exploring every inch of his skin, as though he didn't believe he was there. The young man appeared content, even in his exhaustion; the shadows still gloomed below his vibrant blue eyes.

In an instant, a nervous look once more cast a shadow across Will's face, he swallowed hard, making his Adam's apple rise and fall sharply. "D-did you mean a-all those t-things you said last night?" his voice cracked as he addressed the doctor. "Of course I did, Will." Replied Hannibal "why don't you sit down at the table, I've prepared us some breakfast". The doctor smiled briefly as he planted a tender kiss on the shorter mans forehead.

Glancing back at the younger man, Hannibal's face grew grave with concern, as he turned away once again his features tightened into a thoughtful expression as he began to anguish over the state of his lover. Hannibal felt an emptiness inside, he felt despair as he could not relieve Will of his pain. He felt guilt. Once again, he looked at Will who appeared to be in his own world; he picked up a salt shaker, shuck it several times, amused by the frenzy of white granules, he then glanced out of the window, stretching and so accentuating his fine jaw line, brushed with a slight stubble beard. His face appeared shrunken and cold; his features hard and unforgiving; his eyes remained shifty and fearful; the old Will was back once more.

Hannibal cracked two eggs into the frying pan and relished the satisfactory sound as the oil began to sizzle and spit. His nostrils flared as he smelt the sweet aroma of the herbs he had just added to the pan. He turned off the heat; the eggs were perfectly fried as always. Hannibal was a master craftsman, both in his field of psychology and in his pastime of cooking. He was consistently complemented on his fine dishes, the quality of which would not be misplaced in the finest gourmet restaurant. Skilfully he balanced the two plates on his fore arm and carried them to the table.

"Eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes and bacon" said Hannibal as he placed the plate in front of will and planted a delicate kiss on his forehead. Will had lost his appetite, piling in forced mouthfuls while reluctantly chewing and swallowing. He could not bear to be rude to Hannibal, who had, as always, been a most hospitable host. Hannibal was quick to sense the discomfort in his young lover; he had mastered his every quirk and tick. He once again placed a firm but gentle hand on the arm of the younger man and ushered that he need not force himself to eat; however, Hannibal was deeply concerned by the recent weight loss which had left Will appearing gaunt and far less muscular in stature.

Over breakfast the conversation remained light, Hannibal managed to seize a laugh or two from his companion, the momentary glow on the faded face of will graham satisfied him. They drank coffee. They discussed the news. They avoided discussing work. They were content.

"Thank you, Hannibal, I have had a great time" said Will as he stood on the steps bellow the front door. He regretted that he had to leave. He resented his prior commitments. He resented jack Crawford. He resented the murderers. Within that moment, he resented the world for it had abruptly ended his utopia. "It was my pleasure, Will" Hannibal replied with a slight smirk. Will looked away. Looking up he said "See you soon, Han" a smile was visible in the corners of his mouth.

As Will turned and walked up the quiet suburban street, Hannibal watched from the doorway until he vanished from site.

Back in his office, he scrawled over patient notes, filled reports, paced from end to end of his vast library of books. He sunk into his great black leather chair and sighed. Leaning over the desk, he hung his head low. Looking back up again, he half expected to see Will, but alas, no one was there. He missed the man with the fair curly hair and the bright blue eyes. He missed the fragile, frightened young man who he had tended to only hours prior. He missed his Will Graham.

Hannibal rapped his fingers on his solid oak desk. He watched the hands of the clock crawl at a snail's pace. He drifted through his appointments for the day. He prepared dinner for one. He settled down to read. He drank a glass of wine. He went to bed alone.

Salvation came in the form of a call from Jack Crawford, asking to assist on a new case. Of course Hannibal realised he was really being asked to monitor Will Graham once again. He despised how they constantly used Will as a tool, using his generous nature and exploiting it. They were running him into the ground once again. In frenzy, Hannibal grabbed his coat and stuffed his wallet and keys into the deep pockets of his suit trousers. Swiftly he headed to his car, swinging the door open; he dropped into the driver's seat and slammed the door close. The car wheels screeched as he reversed out of his drive and accelerated down the road of his suburban neighbourhood street.

Within fifteen minutes he was at the crime scene. Stepping out of his car, his long coat hung loose on his slender frame. His fine cheekbones protruded from under the hair which covered the left side of his face. He was closely shaved and clad in one of his fine suits; today he was wearing navy blue. Hannibal had always been considered attractive. Though allusive in nature, doctor lector would most certainly be considered a catch by many.

"Doctor Lector. I'm glad to see you"

"Jack Crawford! It's good to see you"

Hannibal shuck Jack's hand. Jack was a man with a firm, sturdy hand shake. Observing Jack in detail, the ever vigilant Hannibal noticed the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and the deep black hollows in which they seemed to lie. He could see the weariness in Jacks posture; he could also see the dread in his dark eyes. He could see his skin growing taught over his bones and the stubble beard about his neck and lower face. He saw the creases in his shirt and suit. He noted the scuffing on his shoes. It was evident Bella was getting worse. Lector need not have asked: it was almost a mutual awareness between the pair. Lector knew these things; he always did.

"If you would like to follow me, doctor" Jack forced a smile over an otherwise vacant expression. Hannibal followed. He pitied Jack. Neither he, nor Bella deserved to be in such circumstances; they were good people.

Hannibal followed jack along a dim corridor, skirting past several members of forensics in white attire and ducking under several lines of tape. They entered a room in which lay a corpse. Blood lay on each surface like morning due on a lawn in early autumn. Forensics experts were working on the corpse in the furthest corner of the room. Hannibal overheard brief musing of a conversation "the victim suffered lacerations to the thigh and abdomen ... bruising suggests there was a struggle...unusual markings found on the neck and face..."

Lector turned around to notice Will graham in the centre of the room, their eyes met in a quick glance. "Doctor Lecter" Will called as he raised his hand in a friendly gesture." Ah, Will! I hope they are making progress on this case" replied Hannibal in a somewhat subdued tone. Will gave a puzzled look in reply. "So do I, Doctor Lecter" There was a period of silence between the pair, only interrupted by Jack Crawford who had been asked to escort them from the scene. "Gentlemen, if you would like to follow me, we need to determine a possible profile of the killer" suggested agent Crawford in a blank tone to the pair. Jack Crawford was visibly drained.

The men entered a well lit room at the rear of property. There they found Alana bloom sat vigorously typing on a black Toshiba laptop, along with several other officials who were attempting to decipher an identity of the potential killer. The group mulled over details of the case, suggestions were raised and dismissed though reasoning had been logically and just. The air in the room turned sour. Will sipped his coffee. He momentarily glanced across at Hannibal. His expression ever thoughtful yet reserved. His presence was respected and words were held as always in great esteem. In this Will envied lector.

Lecter observed will. A smile curled the sides of his mouth. He noticed how curls of hair now reached his eyebrows and how bright his eyes seemed. He noticed the shadows which haunted his features and sensed the anguish which plagued his mind. He noticed his defined lips against the white ceramic cup. He noticed the softening expression as he caught a glimpse of Alana bloom, her delicate face resting her hand as her soft black curls bounced around her forearm, sighing as the meeting seemed to drone on for eternity. Jealousy consumed lector.

Lecter turned to Jack Crawford and reasoned that forensics would be finished with the crime scene, he also motioned that he should like to accompany will to access how he coped within the situation.

The pair headed out into the corridor. The light was fading outside. Through the window they could see twilight drawing in; the trees were silhouetted against an orange-red sky. The streetlights were beginning to flicker on and hum with a warm yellow light. The air in the corridor was cool but stale. Shapes appeared in shades of grey and blue as light declined through the narrow passage between rooms. They entered the room of the crime.

Will stood facing the window. He closed his eyes tight; concentrating on the crime scene. A few minutes passed in silence, broken only by the panic of will graham. Tears began to stream down over his cheeks as he took rapid, pants for air. Turning to Hannibal, he muttered something eligible in his hysteria as he stood looking up at Hannibal with his reddened eyes. Taking will in his arms, Hannibal began to plant soft kisses on the younger man's neck. He felt the younger man's hands begin to claw into the back of his neck. Lifting his head, Hannibal placed a firm kiss upon his partner's lips, hearing a soft moan escape them...they heard the door open, startled they pulled away from each other; it was Alana. "I can see you two are busy" she sneered as she addressed the pair. "You know, there is a time and a place for such things! And a murder scene certainly isn't it! What were you thinking?!". " Alana, I can explain..." cried Will, attempting to calm his irate colleague. "Save it, Will! I don't want to hear it." There was a choke in her voice as she turned and marched back through the door, slamming it behind her. Will graham was panicked. "Will..." Hannibal mouthed softly as he stared into the now hardened eyes of his young lover. "H-Hannibal, I can't do this anymore!" the young man turned away, he pushed through the door and sulked out into the corridor, ignoring Hannibal as he called after him.

Hannibal paced his office. He perplexed over the events of the evening. He regretted how careless he had been, how he had allowed lust to rule over his logic; he had been a fool. He brought the wineglass to his lips and drank, thoroughly appreciating its rich taste, and he toyed with the glass in his hand, lifting it to watch the colour of the wine change in the light. Once finished, he proceeded to have another and another one after that. He thought of what he had now lost, particularly who he had now lost; Will graham.

He felt rage swelling within him. In anger he took the wine glass in his broad grip and hurled it against the wall; hearing it shatter and watching the pieces fall to rest on the floor. Hannibal feared losing control. He feared his animalistic temper. He was in fear of himself.

He hurried to the kitchen, returning with a dustpan and brush. He crouched above the shards of glass and swept them up and shovelled them into the black plastic bag from the bin. After this, he switched off the lights and climbed the stairs to bed.