A/N: A firsty in a crossover! And in Hannibal fanfiction. I've been itching to do a crossover for months now… I didn't expect it to be between Hannibal and Harry Potter! Honestly, the most nagging fandom was Avengers but… I got frustrated by the lack of HP/Hannibal xovers.

I warn you now, this is my first time working with Hannibal and its characters so it's gonna turn up pretty… badly. And I have no idea what is happening in this story, as per usual. Nor do I have any knowledge of in depth psychology. And not all chapters will be this long.

Warnings: Slash, I'm not good with English, Hannibal being a pretentious ass, a slightly Darker!Will Graham, Abigail has brothers!, AU, implied rape but not worded as so, it will have slightly darker undertones once Harry and Tom arrives.

Pairings: Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham, Hadrain Hobbs (Harry Potter)/ Thomas Hobbs (Tom Riddle/Voldemort)

Disclaimer: You will recognize that some of the lines came from the show itself, so it's not mine.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

"Garret Jacob Hobbs has more children."

When his phone rang in the middle of the night, Will wasn't expecting this to be what he was going to hear. Nor did Will expect anyone calling him at this kind of ungodly hour. He didn't even want to hear anything more about Hobbs's case until he was as far away as possible from Minnesota and surrounded by his dogs.

It was, however, a saving grace nonetheless. But his mind was still clearing the cobwebs of his most recent nightmare and had he heard it right?

"Pardon?"

There was a sigh on the other end of the line and Will realized how late it was. Jack Crawford may be a controlling man but Will knew that dedicated to his job as Jack is, he will not make a courtesy call in the middle of the night, much less at 2:03 in the morning.

"I have contemplated calling Alana Bloom but she has no direct involvement in Hobbs's case and contacting Doctor Lecter in the middle of the night didn't seem appealing."

But calling me is? Will doesn't voice out his thought and instead pulled off his sweat-soaked shirt with one hand.

"Jack, it's 2 in the morning, why are you informing me now?"

The response was silence and Will almost snorted but managed to stop himself. He grimaced as he looked at his shirt and decided that he would have to take a shower before he even attempts to go back to sleep. Maybe change the sheets as well, if he was able to find any spare bedcovers in the unused wardrobe.

Muffled gun shots and quiet pleading entered his mind and Will knows he won't be able to go back to sleep.

"Just come back to Hobbs's house later."

Will wasn't able to say anything else as Jack hanged up. He almost didn't want to go back there.

His eyes drift to a dark corner in his motel room and he imagines, he sees.

I see you.

Will took a deep breath, pressing his palms at his closed eyelids. He's sure he'll find something to occupy himself with for a few hours.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

"We found these documents in a safe in the bedroom," Jack hands a folder over to Will as soon as he entered the car. "Adoption papers of two boys. We ran it through the local system but no records were found, assuming that they were legally adopted."

Will leafs through the documents. Two boys aged 11, twins, adopted by the Hobbs's when they were five. No medical history or even school records. Staring at the papers, Will closes his eyes and lets his mind run over what he knew of Garret Jacob Hobbs.

They know. They're going here. I need to get them out; they don't need to be involved in this. She'll leave but they won't. I know they'll come back, they were the ones to come to me.

Any minute now, they'll arrive. Quickly, before they come, leave!

Oh, Abigail, don't worry about them, they'll be fine. They won't leave, unlike you. I don't want anyone else to touch you. You are mine, my flesh and blood. Don't worry, everything will be alright. This will all end quickly, alright? You understand, don't you? I need this. I—

Will jerks in his seat as a sharp ring invaded his mind. His breath was short, beads of sweat rolling at the back of his neck. Will ground his teeth as a dull ache in his head registered to his senses. With shaking hands, Will dug around his pockets for the bottle of aspirin he swore he slipped in before leaving. Finding it, he wasted no time swallowing one pill and forced his breathing to calm down.

When he no longer hears his own heartbeat, Will realizes that they were only a few blocks away and glances at the driver's seat where Jack is. Tension slowly melted away as Will notices that Jack was too preoccupied with whoever it was the older man was speaking to.

Wasn't using phones while driving illegal?

Shaking his head and barely hearing the one-sided conversation beside him, Will threw his head back with a sigh as the car slowed to a stop in front of the Hobbs's residence.

He thought he was done with Garret Jacob Hobbs—that he had left it behind him. And although 24 hours hadn't even passed, Will was here again.

Silently following behind Jack, Will unconsciously compared his surroundings to the day before.

If there was one thing Will could commend about the FBI, it's that they clean up the bodies fairly quickly. Police tapes were still surrounding the property and agents are milling around either cleaning up or looking for any evidences. Will already knew they won't find anything in the house, Hobbs is—wasn't careless. Nor was he careful. They'd find something but definitely not everything.

Hobbs, in some way, cared for those girls so he won't carelessly waste anything. He honored every single part of them. They won't be able to understand why he wanted—needed to do it so his girls will not be tarnished by any of their—

Will shakes himself away from his train of thought and belatedly realized that Jack said something to him and was waiting for his reply.

Rubbing at his eyelids, Will let out a sigh. "I-I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

He could feel Jack's intense stare, scrutinizing every part of his face but not seeing.

"Will," Jack said heavily, "I need you to focus on this. Hobbs might be dead-" at your hands "-but we need to find his other children. God knows where they are right now." Or if they are even alive.

Will catches every unsaid words and it made nothing to alleviate the unease. Nevertheless, Jack was right. They had to find the children.

"They're not dead," Will informed Jack as they walked into a room filled with technicians gathering up evidences. "Hobbs didn't want them to be tangled up in this mess." At least, that's what Will thought.

"What about Abigail Hobbs?" Jack looked unconcerned as an officer handed over another folder.

"He- Garret Jacob Hobbs wanted his daughter to be with him all the way," Will remembers the blood that spilled from the wound on Abigail Hobbs's neck. "He didn't want his beloved daughter to leave without him. The only reason the twins were not around is because Hobbs wanted them to leave."

A small, inconspicuous miniature trunk catches Will's attention. Thankfully, the other people were done at that side of the room and he crouched down at the short bed stand. Putting on the provided gloves, Will picks it up.

It was small enough to fit on his palm and the detail of the miniature looked so complex and well-made. Studying it, Will saw the small keyhole that looked to be the reason why he can't open it. It almost seemed like the actual trunks found in antique stores.

With his thumb, Will brushed it on the top where an engraving of a symbol he was sure he had already seen before sat. He took a closer look at it and wracked his brain on anything that might give him any clue where he saw the symbol before.

A circle inside a triangle with a line bisecting it. He was sure he had seen it before.

"Do you have any idea what this is?" Will held up the miniature trunk and gave it to Jack.

Jack took a few minutes to examine it while Will looked around the room. The room was of standard size with its walls painted neutral beige. The furniture was all generic and practical except for the twin sized beds pushed together in the middle of the room. It was a guest room before the two boys lived in them.

The opened wardrobe showed clothing typical for two pre-pubescent boys but other than that, the room seemed so impersonal. It was odd how clean and neat the room would have looked if not for the FBI doing a thorough search. It was almost disorienting knowing that two boys, twins even, lived here. This just showed how much they don't actually know about this case.

Guilt churned at his gut and Will let it wrap around him before pushing it away. He'd feel guilty later, but finding the boys would be his priority for now.

"I'll send it over with Zeller later," Jack finally broke the semi-silence in the room. "But we still have to find those boys."

Will opened his mouth to answer but an officer hurried over to Jack. They had a whispered conversation before the Jack nodded and the officer hurried back outside.

Without fanfare, Jack made his way to leave the room. "Let's go."

Slightly irritated at being ordered around, Will stayed where he is. "Where are we going?"

Jack seemed annoyed at this but remained as professional as he could be. "They found Hobbs's workshop in the woods. They are waiting for my signal to enter there."

Will took a moment to mull it over before nodding and following Jack.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

A cabin in the woods. If not for the situation they're in, Will would have commented on how cliché this all was. But Will had the feeling this type of observation won't be received well right now and instead stayed behind Jack like a puppy following its master.

Will lets his gaze wander around as the men opened the door with caution.

It was an ideal location; deep enough into the woods that they would not have found it without the tracks leading there. No one would have heard anything even if the girls screamed.

Blinking away his thoughts, Will follows inside, nodding his thanks at the officer who gave him a flashlight.

For a minute, Will remembered a time that he would enter a room without police tapes and tag markers on almost every suspicious thing possible. The room would look so… untouched and fresh, and everything looked so sharp and raw that Will loses focus. It was part of the reason why he failed the psychological evaluation in the FBI.

Looking around the room he entered, Will wondered just why he was there when he would only get in the way. The place was filled with Hobbs' hunting tools and trophies, even a corpse of a deer waiting to be gutted is still on display on the table.

Will immediately diverted his glance from the dead eyes of the animal that stared right through him, and with that action caught sight of a scrap of paper wedged under the table's leg. No doubt, the FBI would have disregarded it but it stroke Will as odd. It looked so out of place in the otherwise organized butcher house.

Crouching down beside the table while carefully avoiding touching anything much more than necessary, Will gently pulled the scrap of paper out of its place, purposefully forgetting proper procedure. It was a petty action but the lack of sleep and Jack's attitude were grating on his nerves.

The paper looked coarse and thick but seemingly ripped off from a larger piece. It was folded neatly into four parts. Will stood up and opened the paper.

Back out. You know where.

-HJ,
TM

Will examined the paper closely, flipping it every way possible just to be thorough. Frowning in thought, Will looked up to try finding Jack amongst the uniformed agents. He almost jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder but managed to stifle it into a flinch.

"Will," Jack walked into his sight with his hand still on Will's shoulder. "I need you to see something."

Somehow, Will knew that it would be where the 'magic' happened. And he was proved correct when Jack lead him to the upper floor of the small cabin.

Will couldn't help but comment, "This seems like something that could be a permanent installation in your Evil Minds Museum."

It was a barb that Jack chose to ignore again and Will almost felt disappointed. Instead, he let his gaze wander around.

The room was, to put it bluntly, an antler room. Dried blood on the wooden floorboards stained it permanently and Will sees their bodies mounted on the sharp antlers around him.

"This is where the Shrike harvests his victims," Jack walked further into the room and stopped just beside Elise Nichols' clothed body. "There are still seven bodies unaccounted for, and two missing boys. We have to find them before the media goes in an uproar."

"He's eating them," Will swallows audibly. "What were their names again? Hobbs' two boys?"

Jack gives him a blank look. "It was written there, in the first page."

"It hadn't been a priority."

"Then what is a priority to you, Will?" Jack's voice held the poison of a hissing tiger and Will almost took a step back. "Abigail Hobbs? Tell me you aren't still guilty of her condition when, clearly, she had been doing fine before Hobbs became sloppy."

Will drew back as if stung at the veiled incrimination and licked his chapped lips. "Are you implying that Hobbs had an accomplice?"

The tiger seemed to have been contained and Jack shrugged. "Someone who happens to be his obsession, who also happens to be an accomplice. He can't have eaten all those girls without help."

Will pursed his lips, not quite able to believe Jack's quick accusations but held his tongue. "What are the boys' names?"

Thankfully, Jack accepted the change of subject. "Hadrian James and Thomas Marvolo Hobbs."

"Those are peculiar names."

"Sounds European to me," Jack raised an eyebrow. "Is there something you are forgetting to tell me, Will?"

Will took a moment to think about it, his fingers playing with the scrap of paper—parchment?—that he had stuffed in his pocket. Reluctantly, he pulled it out, knowing that he could be charged for obstruction of justice. Besides, what would he do with a piece of parchment with an unhelpful note scribbled on it? Might as well give it to Jack who could do anything with it, maybe even find the boys.

Jack took a few minutes examining the paper before pinning Will with a stare. "I won't ask you where you got this because that would only tell me you disregarded necessary procedures."

Will shifted. "I-I need to go. Doctor Lecter will be expecting me in a few hours." So that might be a lie, but Will was starting to feel uncomfortable around the people, few as they may be, and technically he would have been in his car right now, driving back to Wolf trap if Jack hadn't called him about the two missing boys.

And Will wanted to know how Abigail Hobbs is.

Jack seemed to understand—hopefully—and merely nodded before going to one of the uniformed men. Quickly receiving the dismissal, Will hastily makes his way out.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

Guilt and unease swirled around his head as he sat in his car. He had parked in the hospital where Abigail was sent to and was debating with himself whether he should step out of his car or not. Even then, he would have to argue with himself whether he should put the right foot forward or the left foot forward.

Will sighed tiredly and rubbed his face. Last night, he was all for visiting, and he would have left the motel as soon as the first rays of sunlight showed itself. But then Jack called and he had to go back to the Hobbs residence.

Then he found out Hobbs had two more children who are currently missing with only a scrawled note on a parchment as clue. Abigail had been pushed to the back of his mind until he wanted to leave. So then Will, with his mind running around in circles, drove here and was now struggling with himself.

It would seem, however, that he did not need to decide for himself when a knock on the window snapped him from his thoughts. Glancing beside him, Will was surprised to see Doctor Lecter. Hastily, Will rolled down the window.

"Doctor Lecter," Will stared somewhere around the psychiatrist's stomach. "I was not expecting you here."

Doctor Lecter bent down and Will was forced to shift his stare at the doctor's chin. "I must confess that I am quite surprised at finding you hereabout."

Will shifted in his seat, knowing that it wasn't polite to talk to someone through a car window. However, he doesn't know what he had to do and instead removed his hands from the steering wheel. He remained silent, not knowing what to say.

It seemed that Lecter took pity on him and straightened himself. "I suppose this is not the place to have our conversation," Will could feel the amusement coming from the man. "Would I be correct in assuming that you are here to visit Abigail?"

"What do you think?" Will was proud that it didn't come out nearly as cutting as it could be.

"What I think, dear Will, is that you have a sense of attachment to Abigail Hobbs. Tell me, do you feel responsible for what happened to Ms. Hobbs?"

Will grimaced. "I really don't think this is the time for this conversation Doctor Lecter."

"You're right, how terribly rude of me," The other man paused, assessing the situation. "Perhaps we'll continue this at a later time… shall we say at 7:30 in the evening? You do have an appointment with me later, Will. Uncle Jack made sure of that."

"Of course," Will almost scoffed. "Wouldn't want his fragile teacup to shatter."

"Jack only thinks that it will be best for you to be able to talk to someone about your cases, Will. The mind of a criminal can be one of the greatest labyrinths and what good would it be to find your way in only to get lost on your way back?"

With those parting words, Doctor Lecter inclined his head in a bid of goodbye before leaving Will once again alone in his car.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

Will looks down when he heard Lecter's steps. The doctor had a piece of paper in his hands, angled towards him which made him frown.

"What's that?"

"Your psychological evaluation," Doctor Lecter reads through it. "You're totally functional and more or less sane. Well done."

"Did you just rubberstamp me?" Will frowns in disbelief. "And when did I need a psychological evaluation? I don't remember agreeing to any of this."

"Jack Crawford wanted to make sure he didn't break you," Lecter puts the paper down and sits on one of the armchairs, back facing Will. "He may have contacted me this afternoon. I recall informing you of this appointment, had I not? Jack had asked me to do an evaluation he could present to the board before they, in his words, complain about having you in the field."

"I'm not broken," Will spat bitterly.

"Jack Crawford seems to think so. You have shot Garret Jacob Hobbs ten times. However, I prefer that we have our conversation at your own pace and interest, not thinking of Uncle Jack's delicate tea cups."

Will bit his tongue to stop himself from giving a cutting retort, doing his best to ignore the purring and growling darkness that caressed his being in a loving embrace.

"Have you ever been inside a serial killer's mind, Doctor Lecter?" Will broke the uncomfortable silence, deciding to steer away from the talk of breaking and tea cups. "What am I talking about, of course you have. It's just—" Will sighs in frustration and Lecter remained silent. "This case—Hobbs' case—is so… different. It's like we're looking at the big picture and yet the frame refuses to hold the pieces together."

Will stopped, his hands in his pockets as he lets his gaze flit around doctor Lecter's form. The psychiatrist, despite his patient being somewhere above and behind him in an illusion of having power and control over what is happening, remained relaxed on his chair.

Finally, Lecter turns his body in the general direction of where Will is. "And what is it that makes this case different?"

Will tilts his head. "Everything. The girls, the antlers, the way he's honoring them… and let's not forget the missing bodies. You tell me what is different about him, doctor, you're the psychiatrist."

"I did not mean it that way, Will. Surely there is something that makes this case standout for you as a criminal profiler of your caliber."

Will lets out a sardonic chuckle. "My caliber? What I have isn't something special."

"Most people would argue that what you have is a gift."

"Most people don't know the line between a gift and a curse."

Lecter paused. "Do you consider what you have as curse?"

"Being able to give justice to criminals who deserve it? Yes, of course it's a gift. But…" Will tries to find the right words but they wouldn't come. The feeling of someone else being inside his head always left an oily bitterness in Will's mouth and when his mind clears, it would always feel like his own body felt too tight around him, as if it wasn't his anymore.

"Being highly empathic as you are, I imagine it must be difficult to separate yourself from those of others. How does it make you feel; having to delve into the minds of the deprived to save the lives of those who won't even thank you?"

Will had a wry smirk on his face. "Not all jobs involve talking in a one-on-one basis, nor do all jobs allow people to thank you."

"And yet you still chose to be with the FBI knowing what it might do to you. What makes you think that they won't turn their backs on you the moment you become a liability?"

"Are you estranging me from the FBI doctor Lecter?" Will had to clench his fists to stop them from shaking.

"I am only voicing what seems to be on your mind, Will. Uncle Jack seems to favor you now but he isn't the only one working in the FBI. The only one besides Jack who would willingly support you is Alana Bloom and even then, you do not seem close."

"I don't need friends."

"Need or want? The terms can be easily interchangeable and you are pushing people as far away from you as possible. That is an unhealthy habit, dear Will."

Will scoffs this time. "Now you tell me it's 'unhealthy' after rubberstamping me for the FBI. I don't think having any unhealthy habits would allow me to pass a psych eval."

"I am only telling you this because you seem to have a certain amount of obligation over Abigail's fate. You have come to the hospital with the intention of visiting her when, presumably, so many have been in her place before this."

"I—" Will falters. "I did not visit her."

This seems to have thrown the doctor off the loop but Will didn't have the time to appreciate doing what seems to have been impossible task.

Truly, he hadn't visited Abigail Hobbs. He didn't know why—avoidance, maybe? But the thought of seeing her somehow made the guilt heavier. What would she think? Her parents were dead, her father a criminal, and her brothers were missing. Will didn't need to speak to Abigail to know that she blames him. Everyone does.

"Then may I inquire why you were at the hospital?"

"I have—" Will stutters out, suddenly feeling very tongue-tied. "I had intended to visit her but I—I don't think I could face her."

Lecter seems to think about what he is going to say next. "Was there anything that changed your view of Abigail Hobbs?"

And Will remembers that Jack hadn't informed Lecter of the new development in the Hobbs' case.

Nor did he update you when you left. But Will ignored that little voice in his head.

"Abigail Hobbs isn't an only child," Will starts slowly, his mind going over what he knew. "They have found adoption papers for two more boys as well as the room where they stayed in. No traces of them were found anywhere besides the adoption papers in Hobbs' files."

"How old were they?"

"They are 11 and adopted by the Hobbs's when they were 5."

"What happened to them? You seem to put an emphasis on the present tense."

"Missing. They—" Will sighed. "The only clue we found was a scrap of parchment with a note."

"And Garret Jacob Hobbs didn't kill them?"

"No, I—" Will bit his lip. "He wouldn't kill them. They were the ones who came to him and he knew they would never leave him. They deserved to be free and not tied up but that didn't mean anyone else needed to know of them. Their identity in exchange of their freedom. Even if they want to leave him, they can't because they would need his help to exist in our society."

"And now Hobbs has the satisfaction of knowing that they can't exist even after his death," Lecter nods as he reached his own conclusion. "Just like having the satisfaction of knowing he made an impact to you."

Will grimaced but agreed, not even thinking to disagree. "Wouldn't they all want that."

"Quite so," Lecter nods. "And where would the boys be?"

"Somewhere…" Will gathers everything he knew about the Hobbs's, mind working quickly. "Somewhere Garret Jacob Hobbs is familiar with, probably where they first met. It would be somewhere public… but…"

"Wouldn't they have heard of what happened to their family by now? I don't believe the FBI made an effort to cover it up."

Will felt words die at his throat as he came to the same conclusion Lecter is leading him to.

"We won't find them," Will rubbed his mouth, his tongue feeling a lot heavier. "Not unless they want us to find them. They would have already known about Abigail surviving and yet they never appeared. Hobbs taught them better than that."

"How can mere children their age be able to hide from the FBI?"

"Hobbs," Will swallowed. "Knew what he was doing but he also wants someone to know. He wanted to pass on his… hobbies—" Will took a startled breath in realization. "He would teach it to his own children, to have a firmer leash on them," And with a resigned voice, Will added, "Jack might be correct after all."

"There's no sure way to know whether Jack is correct or not, Will. Abigail might be innocent or she may be not."

"Innocent until proven guilty," And then Will blinks, anger and disbelief mingling in his mind. "You've known, haven't you?"

Lecter neither denied nor approved his accusation. "I've been working with different kinds of people and there is one thing that is constantly present in them. They want to be understood."

Slightly hysterical, Will chuckles, "Right, you're not FBI. You are not obligated to tell anyone about it."

Lecter tilts his head to the side, "I have no grounded basis on my assumption that could hold on to the court."

Will snorts out a breath and leaned on the banister. He opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it, instead sucking at his teeth and putting his head between his hands.

"What will you do now?" Lecter prods with an encouraging tone. "I highly doubt you would let this go."

"God, they're children," Will sounded troubled. "I—I don't think I could—I don't know what to do."

"They are but a result of Garret Jacob Hobbs' madness," Lecter prompted further. "As you said, they are but children who were guided into their path. They may not have noticed that they went down the rabbit hole."

Will growls under his breath in frustration, his hands rubbing furiously at his face. He knows what doctor Lecter is doing—highly aware of it even. Seriously, what kind of psychiatrist would convince someone to turn a blind eye on murderers?

That isn't true. Abigail Hobbs is the only accomplice, not the other two boys.

But killing people is murder, no matter what their excuse is.

Like how you killed Hobbs? You hypocrite.

It was like he swallowed tons of gravel and it now sits uneasily in his stomach, his throat scratched up from the sharp edges.

"I—" Will takes a deep breath, feeling like he was sinking deeper into the darkness he spent years in running away from, "Jack doesn't need to know all of this. Abigail did what her father asked her to like a good daughter would, there's nothing wrong with that."

And then the black feathered stag was right beside him, deep dark eyes gleaming in smug triumph.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

Garret Jacob Hobbs never quite left him yet. Frequently, Will found himself seeing his ghost and it would send him to panic. It was only his work, teaching at the FBI academy, that served as his saving grace, immersing himself in the minds of other less likely to haunt him in his sleep criminals. And the almost helpless case of searching for Hadrian and Thomas Hobbs.

It seems that his problems always had something to do with the name 'Hobbs'. And that brought him to where he is now.

He never quite worked up the courage to visit Abigail Hobbs. Not until today.

Will stood there, next to Hannibal Lecter, as they entered the hospital room that housed the comatose body of Abigail Hobbs.

The first thing Will notes is the thick bandage around her neck.

Beautiful.

Will tugged at his hair to stop his thoughts.

"Will? Is there something wrong?"

Releasing his hair, Will lets his gaze pass over a concerned looking doctor Lecter and walks into the room, settling himself down on the couch near the foot of the hospital bed. Impertinent as it may be to leave the good doctor standing near the doorway, Will mustered everything he has not to care.

Lecter studies him before closing the door behind him and taking off his coat, draping it at the back of the chair beside the bed and then the doctor sits himself on it.

Will was quite fine with the silence around them, delighting in his blissfully void thoughts. For the first time in a while, the monsters in his head are silent.

"How is the progress regarding the search for Abigail's brothers?"

Will sighed, "Not great. The note was written on a piece of parchment made from… skin, the DNA matching with one of the girls," Will almost felt horrible for sounding so unaffected, but everything, not only the monsters, were oddly silent. "The fingerprints matched with some found in the house but none in the database. Nothing in the house or Hobbs' cabin pointed us to any correct direction."

"And what of the boys' origins?"

"Origins?" Will thinks back to all the information the reports Jack gave to him and the disturbing lack of appropriate data. "There wasn't anything. Not even a missing person's report in the smallest little town or village in America."

Lecter descended into pensive silence and Will lets him. All insights they could gather on this case could be useful and appreciated, and Will isn't prideful enough not to ask his psychiatrist.

After a moment, Lecter speaks up. "A person's place of birth may hold a certain fondness in their minds as time passes by. Might I suggest that you try to broaden your search to other countries?"

Will shakes his head. "They won't be able to leave the country without trace, taught or not. They're both children." Lecter seemed to be taking in his words so Will continued. "And I doubt the FBI has the resource to search all over the world for two boys. It's probably only Jack and his team who are actively searching for Hadrian and Thomas Hobbs."

"Dear Will, the world wide web is capable of many things," Lecter states. "And a missing person's report is quite public."

Will falls silent. Lecter has a point, every detail they could find on the boys would be helpful and yet… Will can't exactly explain the feeling of dread that pooled at his stomach. Looking away from Lecter's perfectly ironed collar, his gaze landed on the other body in the room.

"You are aware that Abigail will ask for them as soon as she wakes up."

It seems Lecter knew that the subject was closed.

"Yes," Will stares at the feathered stag that was leaning near Abigail's head. "I don't know how they are going to tell the news to her."

"Jack might ask us to talk to her after she wakes up," Lecter crosses his legs, head tilted away in thought. "Would you tell him if Abigail does confess?"

"No." Will surprised himself with his immediate answer. A glance at the doctor had Will shaking his head. Doctor Lecter looked every bit satisfied and a few parts delighted. Will doesn't know what to think of that.

"And what had caused your conviction to your decision? It has been my understanding that you hold your morality close to you."

"Will Graham, FBI criminal profiler, not holding true to his morals? Blasphemy," Will's voice dripped with sarcasm. "It's the evidence that talks, doctor Lecter. And there isn't any evidence to Abigail's involvement in any of the crimes. I'd say she didn't do it, but I know better," Will uncharacteristically held the doctor's gaze. "You know better."

"Perhaps it is better that things remain that way."

"I thought you would push me to tell you what I feel about it."

"Do you want me to? We're not in therapy, Will."

Will remains silent, watching the steady rise and fall of the unconscious body in the room. "I think it's my moral obligation."

"Hardly," Lecter leans forward slightly. "Saying that it is your moral obligation implies that you have a set of values that hides behind the dark places you enter."

Will hesitates before answering, "Maybe not."

"Or you merely suppress them with the burdens other people give to you."

This had Will shutting his mouth. A high-pitched ringing sound dominated his hearing, blocking out other sounds.

Inconsequential. Trivial. Unimportant. You're only good when they say so—

Suddenly, Will's imagination took the better of him and darkness bled into him and he needed it to stop because years of separating himself wouldn't matter—

Will urgently shut his eyes and brought a hand to rub at it furiously. When he opened his eyes, Lecter was standing in front of him, a flashlight in his hand that the doctor was pointing at his eyes.

"Calm down, Will," Lecter's voice was soothing, clearly heard from the deafening ring. "That's right. Focus on the light."

When Will finally regained his breath, Lecter was still crouched in front of him. Will was paying attention when—did he just-?

"Did you just smell me?" Will stares in disbelief as the doctor merely stood up as if he did not just disturb Will's already unstable mind.

"My sense of smell is quite sharp," Lecter sits down on his chair. "I find that I can tell what a person ate or did before I met them. Have you been recently practicing your skills in firearms?"

"I—" Will falters at the explanation but was more than glad for ignoring his semi panic attack. "Yes. It took me 10 bullets to bring down Hobbs; I'd be horrible in the field if I kept it up."

Will flinched as his phone vibrated in his pocket. He fumbled a bit before pulling it out and glancing at the caller ID. Seeing that it was Jack, he stumbled up.

"I-uh—" Will hurriedly tried to make an excuse but chose to stick to the truth. "Jack is calling. I need to answer this. I'll make sure to notify you if I have to leave."

Will hastily walked down the halls of the hospital until he reached the parking lot, his phone merrily vibrating in his hand. Once outside, he answered the call.

"What do you know about gardening?"

It seems Jack is becoming fond of odd greetings. What happened to the polite 'Hello' or 'Good morning'?

"Nothing much, I prefer boat motors. I don't have a green thumb either."

"Well come here and get a crash course." A moment's pause and then, "You could bring Doctor Lecter if he's with you."

That was all Jack said before hanging up.

Sliding his phone back to his pocket, Will sighed. What kind of case would require the word 'gardening'? Nonetheless, Will made his way back into the hospital and Abigail's room. Doctor Lecter could come if he wants, though he doubted it. The doctor would be a great barrier between him and Jack though.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

As Jack's favorite pet—an all so abhorred but apt term—Will has a few advantages to get off it. For one, the FBI leaves him alone. Whether it be their accusations or, most importantly in situations such as these, bothering him when working on a killer's profile.

Gazing at the scene before him, Will absently notes that it has the potential to call on Tattle Crime's attention. Growing a mushroom garden using people's bodies could be sensational to others, most certainly that vulture, Freddie Lounds.

Tasteless, as he had described to Lecter, but an invaluable source of information otherwise inaccessible even to him. He is a consultant, not an agent.

"Line and rebar were used to administer intravenous fluids after they were buried," Zeller reports, grimacing at the growing mushrooms on the body he was examining. "He was feeding them something."

"No restraints?"

Price looked at him oddly but answered him, "Just dirt."

Will nods jerkily. That doesn't tell him anything except for knowing that the suspect keeps his victims unconscious throughout their 'burial'.

Lecter was surveying the scene with a curious gleam in his eyes but otherwise remained unobtrusive. Will wishes to know what the doctor gathered just by looking at the scene, after all, Lecter is as observant as anyone could be and coupled with his specialized knowledge on how the human mind works, Lecter can be just as astute as Will can be, minus the crazies, of course.

Jack arrives and Will is distracted from his examination of his psychiatrist.

"Welcome back."

Will licks his lips, "Back to what? I never disappeared, Jack."

"To the field," Jack clarifies with a look. "You're the best man I have."

"You're the one who wanted me to have a psychological evaluation," Will reminds, a slight bitterness to his tone. "Lecter was the one who had to tell me that."

Jack sighs, "You won't have agreed if I asked you to, Will."

"Therapy doesn't work on me," Will stresses. "I know all the tricks."

"Then unlearn them," Jack replies heavily and with finality. "What's done is done. The board didn't rise up a fuss when I presented them your psych eval. Now I want you to do your thing and tell me who did this."

Will's jaw tensed in irritation. What did Jack think he does? Magic?

Nonetheless, Will takes a deep breath to calm himself. It won't do to let Jack get under his skin. Lecter sends him an approving glance and Will finds a weak sense of pride in it. Shaking his head to remove the puzzling thought, Will watches as he let the pendulum swing.

:::...~~~-0-~~~…::: *The following lines came from the series itself. It is, in no way, mine.*

As a tabloid journalist, Freddie had the liberty of choosing her topic. As a girl, she had wanted to be a cop, but her small stature didn't allow it. Not that it was impossible, but it was enough for her to lose hope.

Now she still wanted to be one, but she took a shine towards journalism. It allowed her to use her cunning and charm to get into records that are otherwise classified, only to be able to share it to the world.

Everyone deserved to know what is going on, even if that meant putting her life on the line.

She had wanted to be a cop, and it goes without saying that she is willing to sacrifice a lot of things for justice.

And staring at a man that looked so out of place in the scene of a crime, Freddie knew that this would be different from her previous articles.

"Excuse me," She had hidden her camera in her bag before approaching the nearest detective. "I'm one of the parents of the explorers who found the bodies. I wanted to thank you for being so good with all the boys."

Men were easy to manipulate. A little bit of uncertainty here, a shy smile there, and a grateful gleam in the eyes. They won't even know of the vulture behind her mask until she sinks her claws in them.

"Those boys were very brave."

She almost rolled her eyes, "They are good boys."

"Yeah."

She shifts to glance uncertainly at the man standing alone at the scene and she knew the detective beside her looked at him too.

"Would it be an imposition to ask a few things?" Freddie stares at the man. "The boys are gonna have questions and I just want to be as honest with them as—"

"Of course."

"Can you, uh," Freddie shifts her glance at the detective and saw him staring at the man as well. "Tell me what that man is doing over there by himself?"

The detective looks around uneasily. "He's some kind of special consultant. Works for the FBI. He came here with that man over there," The detective gestures over to a man wearing a suit talking to Jack Crawford of the FBI. "I think that one's a psychiatrist. Consultant as well."

"Huh," Freddie nods. She watches as the man seemed to be in some kind of trance, kneeling beside the shallow grave.

Suddenly, the man gasped, looking around in panic. Unfortunately, Freddie was too far away to be able to understand what they are saying but the men that congregated near where the man was staring at before told her that something had happened.

Freddie watched in interest as the psychiatrist wearing a suit went to the 'special' consultant—she really has to get their names—who was gripping a tree like it was a lifeline—or perhaps something that is grounding him.

The psychiatrist spoke to the consultant until the panicking man nodded and shakily took the offered hand.

Interesting, indeed.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…::: *Back to fanfiction but a few may still be recognized as before.*

"What is it that you saw, Will?"

Will knew that he was trembling and that his mind was miles away, but Lecter's voice snapped him back to reality. His hands gripping the tree behind him, Will swallowed and started to calm his breathing.

"Was it… Hobbs?" Lecter continued to talk to him. "Have you displaced the victim of another killer's crime with what could arguably be considered your victim?"

Will still refused to answer, staring right through the psychiatrist.

Lecter leaned in further. "Will?" When Will remained the way he was, Lecter offered a hand. "Please take my hand Will, Jack might want to talk to you."

Finally, Will broke his stare and glanced down at the offered hand. Lecter was looking at him expectantly, encouraging him to take his hand.

For a moment, it was Hobbs that he sees in Lecter's place but when he blinks, his hand moved on their own volition and took the assistance the psychiatrist gave him.

Will looks expectantly at the doctor but Lecter merely led him over to his car. Jack, however, had different plans and went to approach the two of them.

Before Jack could say anything, Lecter held up a hand, silencing the other man.

"I believe," Lecter glance at Will. "That the stress is getting to Will. I'll take him back to Baltimore with me. Our bodies need rest and it would seem like Will wasn't sleeping properly this past few days."

It was true. Every time he closes his eyes, he would feel like someone—or something—is watching him. Scrutinizing every move he made, made worse by the fact that it was dark and he can't see anything. In the end, sleeping just wasn't worth being overly paranoid of.

And before he was aware of anything, Lecter was already pulling away from the scene in his Bentley, Will a silent companion beside him.

The soft tones of classical music filled in the silence. Will let it, instead bringing his gaze into the scenery passing by.

"Your," Will starts as the tune of the melody changed. "Psychological evaluation may have been premature."

"I do not believe so, Will," Lecter's attention never wavered from the road and yet he had answered. "As I have said, it is merely stress that is causing you to mistake things. The search for the two Hobbs boys isn't going well, is it not?"

"No," Will shakes his head with a resigned sigh. "Nothing."

Lecter remained silent and Will had the feeling that the psychiatrist is thinking over what he is going to say. Hannibal Lecter was odd like that. Every word that comes out of his mouth well thought out, every gesture calculated. So tightly in control was he that Will wasn't entirely blinded from the man's person suit.

There was something behind the sophisticated man. But Will knew he wouldn't to figure out just what is beneath that mask. He was aware and Will wanted to know what horrible, horrible thing would be prowling behind calculating eyes.

I don't find you interesting.

Will knew he had the habit of lying.

And if the stag became much more prominent in his dream when he sleeps later at night, Will thought nothing of it, and wakes up in cold sweat, heart pounding erratically.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

Freddie Lounds is a bitch, plain and simple.

Will imagines her face and body in the stead of Garret Jacob Hobbs. Imagines the horror etched on her face as he pulls the trigger not only once, but until the gun emits nothing more than empty clicks. Imagines the blood pouring out of the bullet wounds paint the floor and walls a beautiful red, her russet curls spilling on the floor and being dampened by her own blood.

Jack's cussing didn't alleviate the anger bubbling deeply inside of Will.

Will barely heard anything beyond the noises in his head. The loud roaring of the monsters inside him grew louder as his anger increased, eyes darkening as he read the article Lounds wrote about him.

Perhaps shoving her wicked fingers into her chest until it is buried under her ribs, positioning her fingers just so, as if her hands are cradling her heart? Carve her own words all over her naked body?

"I think you should go back now, Will."

Will snaps out of his thoughts, fingers twitching as if he wanted to grab something until he realized what he was doing so he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Jack notices and shoots him a look. Will didn't feel guilty but makes himself look to be contrite.

"Yes, I—" Will licks his lips. "I should probably…"

"Do you need help?"

Will startles, staring at Beverly Katz as she calmly lifted a zip lock and examine its contents in the light. She glances at him, offering a shrug.

"I think you need help," She says. "Or a lot of beer."

Will goggled for a while before turning around to walk away.

I don't need friends.

Before he leaves, Will replies, "I prefer whiskey."

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

Will visits Abigail, the first time he came here alone and of his own volition. He sits down on the couch and watched the steady rise and fall of her chest. He never noticed it when he fell asleep.

He wakes up to the sound of someone else talking.

Tensing at the unfamiliar presence of another person, Will focuses on maintaining his deep breathing. He peaks an eye open and immediately recognized who's in the room.

"Alana," He says in surprise.

Alana stops reading out loud and closed the book she was holding. She turned to look at him with her usual air of comfort and peace. Will would call it naivety but he doesn't think it would be an appreciated comment.

"I'm surprised you're here without Hannibal," Alana comments as she tilts her head to the side. "I don't think you've ever stepped foot on this room willingly."

"Yeah, uh," Will shifts into a more comfortable position. "Wolf Trap isn't really a short drive from where I came from."

Alana looks away from him and Will knows he won't like what comes out of her mouth next.

"I'm about to broach the subject of that "Takes One to Know One" article."

Honestly, Will was too tired for Lounds' shit. Instead, he shot back, "No, you don't want to."

Awkward silence settled around them and Will happily let it, mood soured at the bear thought of Freddie Lounds.

Taking pity on the guilty look on Alana's face, Will said, "Did Jack send you?"

"Might be," Alana fiddled with the covers on Abigail's bed. "But I prefer my own decision of going here, instead of saying that Jack pleaded with me to find you. I said I didn't expect you to be here, after all."

"Of course," Will replies drily.

"How's the search for Abigail's brothers?"

Will wasn't able to stop the sarcasm in his words, "Haven't you asked Jack yet?"

"No," Alana's tone implied her disbelief at such an accusation. "Why would I? Jack believes in the worse of people, Abigail not able to escape such a fate."

Will nodded. "Innocent until proven guilty."

Alana shifts, her eyes boring into him with an intense look. "Honestly, Will, how are you? We haven't talked since that incident with Hobbs."

Annoyance swelled in him but Will pushed it aside. Alana, in essence, is a caring woman; compassionate to a fault and stubborn when it comes to the well-being of those she cares for. Will just so happens to be one of those and he doesn't know if it's a good thing or not.

"I'm fine," Will's mind fills with the blood on his hands. "Really—I'm fine."

He really is such a liar.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

Will surprises himself when two days after that visit with Abigail Hobbs and subsequent talk with Alana Bloom, his feet brought him back into the hospital room. He wasn't really supposed to be here alone but Doctor Lecter found himself in a hurriedly made appointment with a patient.

Stopping briefly as he took in his impulsive decision, Will sighed and plopped himself on the couch. He should have at least brought a book or something to occupy his mind. Already, just gazing at the bedridden form built a mounting itch at the back of his mind that he should do something.

Chasing the trail of Hadrian and Thomas Hobbs has been very unproductive. Even the suggestion of the good doctor provided no new information. Except for the brutal murders in Europe 8 years ago.

The first victims to be found were a couple. Their mauled and half-eaten bodies were left to rot somewhere in Surrey, England. Nothing, not even their dental records, could have been used to identify the corpses.

Then bodies in similar, if not worse, condition started to be found around the United Kingdom. In some of those corpses, bodily penetration had been done, while others seemed to have been violated simply for the sake of it not to be recognized. There was no method, no pattern.

Then the murders stopped somewhere around 6 years ago. According to what the Scotland Yard had announced, the murders were linked together by a brand on the most intact part of the flesh of the corpses. No photo was ever released or leaked, not even from the infamous Tattle Crime that had branched out throughout the world for the most sensational news.

The autopsy reports, also, were inaccessible to him since he only found it from old newspaper articles and blogs of those who had an unhealthy interest with serial killers.

Will had the feeling it could be connected but with no logical basis except for his gut feeling, Will never voiced it out. Maybe Doctor Lecter could provide a better judgment? Perhaps a different point of view could help.

It served to add to the stress of tracking down Eldon Stammets. The man may be old but he wasn't clumsy. That or the FBI is showing its incompetence at finding one man.

Lost in thought, Will barely noticed when the door opened. His hand immediately flew to his gun when he recognized the man entering the room. Will scrabbled up from the couch.

Their eyes met and the man, Eldon Stammets, held his hand up in the air when Will pointed the gun at him.

The tense atmosphere was disturbed by the sound of Will's phone ringing. It rang a few times before Will slowly reached for it.

"Don't move," Will adjusted his hold on the gun. "Hello?"

"It's Jack," There was a bit of a crackle on the other line. "Are you at the Hospital?"

Will's eyes darted to Stammets who was obediently standing there, watching him apprehensively. "I am."

"Stammets knows about Abigail Hobbs."

Will's index finger twitched against the trigger, inwardly glad that he didn't have the time to take off the safety. Stammets didn't need to know that.

"Get here," Will drawled and then abruptly hung up. He threw his phone on the couch and adjusted his grip properly. "Close the door."

Stammets did as told without breaking eye contact. Will was grateful that he didn't remove his eyeglasses because the sheer need in the man's eyes would have been too much. The former pharmacist pleaded with his gaze, not even bothering to open his mouth to talk.

I know. I understand. But I want you to understand me too.

Will resisted the urge to close his eyes; instead he diverted his gaze away. He has Stammets trapped in here and the man doesn't seem keen on escaping anyway, so Will just had to keep it up until Jack arrives.

"The journalist said you understood me."

Keep it up how?

"What do you mean?" Will decided that keeping him talking was a great idea.

"I know who you're reaching for," Stammets told him with a strong voice filled with confidence. "I know. I'll help you. She'll finally be able to reach back!"

Will remains silent, pretending that he wasn't in the least bit affected by the words that came stumbling out of Stammets' mouth.

"We all evolved from mycelium," Stammets continued his passionate speech. "I'm simply going to introduce her to the concept. If you walk through a field of mycelium, they know you are there. They will reach out to you, to communicate with you. Then she'll finally be able to talk to you and see that you are what she needs!"

Will's index finger unconsciously tensed on the trigger. Stammets was clearly delusional by this point and no amount of reasoning would make the pharmacist believe otherwise. Will almost wished he could have a valid reason to shoot the man but Stammets was unarmed and haven't even done anything resembling hostile.

"By burying her alive?" It was said only to make Stammets talk. At the back of Will's head, Stammets' profile was becoming clearer and clearer with every word the man spouted.

"You would have found her in the field!" Stammets was near hysterical now. "She would finally be able to talk to you!"

Will pitied the man.

:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::

Will stared into nothing, letting the faint scratching of pen on paper wash away all his thoughts. Jack sent him, again, to Lecter. It's not like it was Will who arranged the appointments, right?

"What stopped you from shooting Eldon Stammets?"

Will turns to shoot Lecter an incredulous look. "You're asking me why I didn't shoot Stammets?"

"In a way," Lecter's hand moved in an almost sheepish gesture. "I would not have held it against you had you shot Eldon Stammets."

"I didn't," Will snorts derisively. "Because I didn't remove the safety nor did Stammets do anything to deserve it."

"But if he had succeeded in retrieving Abigail, would you have pulled the trigger?"

"No—" Will pauses. "I would. My finger twitched at least twice."

"Did you have the intention to kill Eldon Stammets?"

"I wouldn't have felt excitement if I did shoot Stammets," As it left his mouth, Will tasted the sour tones of deception. "In fact, I didn't feel any when I shot Hobbs."

"Then what was it that made you pull the trigger repeatedly?"

"I liked it when I killed Hobbs," Will saw no point in hiding this to his conniving psychiatrist.

Something flickers in Lecter's eyes and Will imagines that bloodcurdling screams and pleads of mercy won't stop the man from doing what he pleases.

"Killing must feel good to God too," Lecter puts down his pen and Will felt a compulsion to look at the man. "He does it all the time. And are we not created in his image?"

Feeling slightly breathless, Will swallows. "That depends on who you ask."

"God's terrific," Lecter leans back against his chair. "He dropped a church roof on 34 of his worshippers last Wednesday night in Texas, while they sang a hymn."

Will was enthralled. "And did God feel good about that?"

A small smile—an upward twitch of his lips—bloomed on Lecter's mouth.

"He felt powerful."

:::...~~~-0-~~~…:::

A/N: So I had a bit of a problem with Stammets… and here's the result of my research as to why the bloody hell did they use mycelium:

"According to Paul Stamets, author ofMycelium Running: How Mushrooms Can Help Save the World, mycelium, mushroom and fungus can save the world because they can be used as medicine and natural cleaners.

Stamets believes that mycelium is part of a neurological network of nature that operates similar to the internet, allowing it to communicate with the planet and other species. This neurological network of nature can be found not only on Earth but also in the web structures of dark matter, the matrices of string theory and many parts of the Universe"

Again, please leave reviews~! Because I actually don't have any idea what is happening anymore.