Well, here we are; the next chapter. Take it as a birthday gift to myself for all of you. :) I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed and watched my story and to add that I have been sick of late, all spelling errors in previous chapters will be fixed and that I am currently working without the aid of a beta. I think I need one. I hope that you all enjoy the chapter.

Snow fell gently down, coating the forest and the surrounding area with a pure white blanket. The wind was non-existent. There was no sound. No birds. No animals. The only sound to penetrate the almost deafening silence was the soft thud of footsteps muffled by thick snow. A figure trudged his way through the thick, his destination unknown. Little white puffs had already settled in his curly dark hair and continued to land on his broad shoulders and on the tip of his pink tinged nose. Glasses had frosted over the moment the cold touched them and now resided safely in the pocket of his plaid shirt.

Will Graham was not cold as he walked. No pale cloud of air expelled itself from his nose or lips when he exhaled. He did not know where he was, yet the forest was familiar. He knew that this was another dream, but unlike most, he felt safe. There was no blood, no death. No ghostly figures that loomed out of the darkness to drag him down screaming. His aimless wandering gave him time to think for once in peace. About Hannibal, Alana, Abigail and even her father. He shied away from that topic though. Garret Jacob Hobs was one of the beings that most often haunted his visions and had him waking up in fits of terror. This time though, he did not appear and for that, Will was grateful.

He stopped and took a moment to look in front of him. There was nothing but snow, trees and moonless sky. The silence was soon broken again, seemingly out of nowhere, but it was not by his hand. Gentle, albeit even footsteps could be heard behind him, yet Will did not turn. He knew what he was. He could smell it, feel it, and taste it in the air.

Something touched his cheek and he turned, shuddering into it. A tall creature now stood before him, all arms, legs and antlers. Eyes as black as satin stared down at him and Will smiled. There was something familiar about the creatures. He knew what it was. The face of the Wendigo had since changed from being that of one he did not recognise, to one that he held in very high regard; Hannibal.

Cold fingers still lingered on his cheek and still Will leaned into them. The touch was not unpleasant, despite the coolness and he found his eyes slowly closing. He did not have to see to know that the horned creature was bending toward him. Breath lingered over his face and his lips parted, only to have a foreign pair press against them.

His eyes opened and he found himself face to face with not the Wendigo, but Hannibal himself. The doctors own dark eyes were focused completely on Will's and the empath could feel a smile tugging at the other man's lips.

The kiss did not last long. Hannibal was the first to pull away, though he remained close and Will could feel the others mouth move against his own as he spoke.

"It's time to wake up, William."

The voice echoed thickly around his head. It was distorted and the more he regained consciousness, replaced by a constant, dull beeping. He swallowed, but his throat felt swollen and made it difficult.

Slowly, his eyes opened and he winced as light hit them. Something was off. The last thing he remembered was flowers and missing eyes.

A pained moan sounded and he caught movement out of his peripheral vision. A voice, definitely not that of Hannibal spoke to him.

"Will? Will, you are alright?"

It was nice and slowly Will turned his head, eyes trying to focus on the hazy form.

"Alana! He's waking up."

Another shadow joined him on his other side and thankfully his vision was able to pick up on kind eyes and dark hair.

"Alana?" It felt like he hadn't drunk in weeks. His throat was hoarse, raw and painful and his left arm ached terribly. His eyes though seemed to finally have adjusted and he turned to the figure to his left. "Abigail."

Both women were smiling at him and Abigail was stroking his hand.

"You're in the hospital, Will." Alana murmured, sitting down in a little chair next to him.

Hospital? That would explain the beeping, the horrible smell of disinfectant and, he gazed down to the hand that Abigail held and spotted an IV drip, the dull throb travelling up his arm. He frowned slightly, mind still tying it piece together just what had happened. He couldn't remember, but the fact that he was in the hospital meant that something was wrong.

His free hand lifted slowly to run across his forehead and push the messy curls away. "How long have I been here?"

"Three days," Now it was Abigail's turn to speak. She sounded tired and as he looked at her, got the feeling that during said three days, she'd not left his side. "Do you remember what happened?"

Will frowned, mind still trying to piece together the few fractured memories that he had of the previous days. He shook his head. "I remember getting a call from Jack. I remember the barn," Try as he might, he couldn't remember what had happened after that.

"You blacked out. Hannibal said you hadn't been eating or drinking," Alana's voice was quiet as she spoke, harbouring an obvious hurt. "You nearly died, Will."

Will said nothing as he fully lay back. He knew that he had been unwell, but not to that extent. It was difficult to care for one's self when you had nightmares that were so vivid, it made it near impossible to eat. Guilt bloomed in his chest and he tightened his grip slightly on Abigail's hand, ignoring the ache from the drip.

"I'm sorry."

Alana nodded and Abigail weakly smiled. Both forgave him for both knew the trauma he had been forced to deal with and neither would hold it against him.

Silence reigned through the room as both women had nothing to say and Will found it too painful to talk. His thumb stroked over his foster daughters hand, hoping it would comfort her. She honestly looked like she'd had a distraught few days. Alana too looked tired and Will had the slight suspicion that both had been there to care for him while he'd been out. The silence was pleasant for all three, but short lived.

The door to the room slid open. Will's eyes opened, which had since closed and all three of the rooms occupants looked over. Hannibal stood there, immaculately dressed as always and coat tucked under his arm. A small smile blossomed over his face when he saw that Will was conscious and he approached the bed.

"It's good to see you awake, Will. How do you feel?"

"Groggy and a little sore, but better, thank you." At least his nausea had significantly calmed.

Hannibal was obviously happy with the reply as he spread his coat over the back of a spare chair and moved to stand behind Alana. The young agent rose however. Abigail followed suit, carefully releasing Will's hand as she did.

"Now that you're awake and Doctor Lector's here, I think it's best that we head off. Both of us could use a decent sleep." Alana lifted a hand to stifle an unexpected yawn and she tossed an apologetic look to Hannibal. He only smiled.

"Of course. Thank you for looking after Will." Hannibal bowed his head slightly in thanks to Alana and embraced Abigail gently. Will waved his drip free hand before both women left the room. The door shut quietly behind them and both doctor and patient were left alone.

Hannibal pulled the seat that Alana had previously been occupying closer to Will's bed and sat down. Legs crossed and Hannibal's gaze fell on the young man before him. It was Will that broke the silence this time.

"Any word on the new victim?"

Hannibal nodded. "Quite a few, actually. Jack was convinced it was the Ripper. On the outside, the methods seemed to be somewhat similar to his previous victims. The inside though is quite different and now, well, we aren't so sure," The doctor paused, keen eyes staring firmly into Will's grey ones. "What did you see when you were in there, Will?"

Will paused, but he already knew that trying to remember was a fruitless act. "I can't remember." He replied finally, slowly shimmying his way up in the bed to make himself more comfortable. "Is it the Ripper, or isn't it?" There had to be a reason why Hannibal had questioned what he'd seen.

"At first the M.E believed that asphyxiation was the cause of death. It wasn't. Some organs were taken; the heart, lungs and some portions of skin and muscle. The bodies positioning was as usually theatrical as the Ripper's other victims. The only thing that is different is what was used to kill him.

Will's gaze drew away from Hannibal. The flowers. He remembered them vaguely. So he'd been right in thinking they played a more significant part then just decoration.

"The organs were removed after death?"

Once more, Hannibal nodded. "Yes."

"If he didn't die from asphyxiation, then how?"

"Aconitum poisoning."

A dark brow rose and Hannibal, judging by the look on Will's face, knew that he would have to break it down a lot more.

"The flowers that were inserted into his eye sockets are Aconitum, or in the more common tongue, Wolf's Bane. It is a bloom native to the northern hemisphere and is extremely toxic to humans."

"So, his eyes were removed and the flowers inserted to kill him." Even that seemed a little hard for Will to believe. Thankfully, Hannibal was able to clarify.

"The eyes and the organs were removed post mortem, which makes us think that this isn't the Ripper. The toxicology report showed that there was more of the plant in his system, enough to cause paralysis of the heart and respiratory system. He would have died in under a minute or two."

Will was speechless. He was unable to say anything until Hannibal had passed him a fresh bottle of water that sat beside his bed and several mouthfuls were taken. It helped to relax his throat as he cleared it.

"What part do the flowers play?" He asked, fingers curling around the bottle slowly.

"A message, though we aren't sure to whom the message is directed at."

"And what's the message?"

"Every flower has a meaning, Will. Most are sentimental. Some are not. Wolf's Bane, as you've probably already guessed, has a darker definition. Literally translated, it means 'Beware; a deadly foe is near.'"

For several minutes, Will was silent, apparently deep in thought. His hands tightened slightly on the plastic bottle in his hands and his gaze turned back to Hannibal.

"It's me. The message is for me."

Two days of being on the drip and forced to eat terrible hospital food and finally, Will was deemed fit enough to leave. It had already been discussed and although Will had objected, there was little he could do. Hannibal was adamant that Will stay with him so he could monitor him and make sure he was actually eating on a regular basis.

It was begrudgingly that Will accepted the offer and later on that night, he found himself once more in Hannibal's home. The spare room had already been set up for his arrival the previous day and had everything he could need. Will however, was not happy. He wanted to go home. He missed the privacy and being able to tinker on his boats or go fishing. He missed his dogs, and even though he knew that Hannibal had organised someone to care for them, he still held slight resentment towards the man, despite his kindness.

The evening passed without much incident. Already the team had figured out that the latest victim was not one of the Ripper. Another apparent copycat had made himself known and Will was trying to rack his tired brain around the whole thing. Already there had been a previous copycat killer, not to mention several new murderers now using colourful and adventures ways to humiliate their victims. It was like the Ripper had given every other murderer and psychopath in the area the courage to do more than simply stab and run. Thankfully though their newest killer, colourfully dubbed 'The Flower Man' by Price and Zeller, had yet to claim another victim.

Will had been given the reports from the M.E to go over, though Hannibal was reluctant to let him have them. He wanted Will to rest and recover. The young profiler was stubborn though and in the end, his stubbornness won over.

Now he sat at Hannibal's currently empty dining table, papers and files scattered over it's surface and a deep frown on his face. Hannibal was in the kitchen preparing the couples dinner, so it gave Will time alone to think. There wold be more victims, of that he was certain. Why go to such lengths to convey a message and only leave one?

Tired and still feeling the effects of the drugs he'd been sedated with while in the hospital, Will gave up when Hannibal entered the room, two white bowls balanced perfectly on one arm. He waited for Will to messily clear up the papers before he set one down before the young man. Will stared down at his bowl and its contents. It was so… plain. A questioning look was given to the doctor who smiled as he sat down in his usual place at the head of the table.

"I know that your stomach is still tender, so I thought a simple meal would be best."

Will nodded slowly and once more regarded his own bowl. He didn't need to question what it was and for once, Hannibal did not give an explanation. The delicious fragrance and lovely orange tone of the soup was enough. Will knew that although the meal looked plain, it would taste amazing. And he was right. The first spoonful was almost nervously swallowed and the sweet flavour of the soup exploded in his mouth. Even for a novice palate such as his own, he could taste each individual ingredient and spice that had been used.

"This is amazing."

Hannibal, who had been watching Will for any signs of sickness, smiled and began to eat himself.

"I am glad you like it. There is plenty more should you want it."

Will nodded, silent as he ate and thankful that the food wasn't making him sick. Perhaps it was the days of hospital food that had him craving something much more refined. Luckily for him, Hannibal was very refined.

Hannibal broke the silence soon enough, his spoon hanging just over his bowl. "What's your take on the new killer?"

Will swallowed his mouthful before lowering his own spoon and carefully fixing Hannibal with a guarded look.

"It's not the Ripper, that I'm certain." He replied.

"So, it's a copycat?"

"I don't know. There are so many similarities and yet so few. The Ripper had never tried to send a message like this before," Will's frown had reappeared as he spoke. The message. He'd been thinking about it for the past day or two. Beware. Beware of whom? Certainly the Ripper was dangerous and his messages were small and subtle. This was blatant though, an obvious thing. There was more reason behind it, Will knew, but he couldn't figure out what.

His inner thoughts must have been playing on his face for Hannibal cleared his throat suddenly. It was enough to tug Will from his thoughts and he meekly apologised. The rest of the pairs meal was finished in complete silence.