Dear Fannibals, the HeAteUs is OVER and Hannibal is here to stay! The first episode of Season 2 was as perfectly tailored as one of Lecter's suits. An A+ from me, as always.

As someone who loves this show and wants to keep it successful, I started a twitter account and will be live tweeting my reactions-hopefully when it airs-but if not, shortly after. Follow me AlisonLang18 and especially BryanFuller and NBCHannibal-they are constantly posting interviews, fan art and inside scoop.

Thank you for reading and participating in all this macabre fun33

When he feels well enough, Will is taken to the visiting room. Hannibal is already poised in his seat. The sound of footsteps rouses him from contemplating before he drinks in the sight of his dearest friend. Will moves slowly, as though through thick oil. He is visibly pale and shaky. When he sees Hannibal through the glass, watching him, he bows his head and swallows.

The guards begin to chain Will to the center of the table, but Hannibal makes a shooing gesture. "That won't be necessary," he says, eyes still on Will.

"I'm sorry, doctor. Hospital policy," the guard replies, tightening the metal mouths around Will's wrists. Hannibal allows himself a quick, murderous glance at the guard.

"It's alright," Will exhales, "I'm used to it."

The guards leave. Hannibal observes Will greedily. He has to hold back an immense smile at seeing Will look so broken. Again. He almost resembles the man he once was, sitting in Hannibal's office, discussing his fear of mental illness. But now Will looks like a man resigned to the death penalty.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm on a raft in a vast ocean, and a shark is circling me."

"How long have you felt this way?"

"Since…Hobbs."

"Will, you are stronger than Garrett Jacob Hobbs. You always have been. Another man would never have found him. Another man would not have entered the house of a killer and come out alive."

"You talk about me as though I'm some kind of hero," Will says slowly, weighing the words. He has never imagined Hannibal might feel that way. He only ever saw himself as his victim.

"I have told you many times, we have a great deal in common. I would not say that to a man I did not respect."

"So you think you're a hero too?" Will can't help but to crack a horrified smile.

"Will, I want you to close your eyes."

"What? Why?"

"Please, indulge me."

The room is quiet for long minutes. Will is just as obsessively taking in Hannibal as Hannibal is taking in him. The thought of closing his eyes and opening himself up to such vulnerability makes him nauseous. "I'd rather not."

"Are you afraid of me?"

Will lets out a long exhale before closing his eyes. Hannibal is transfixed.

"Think of your breathing. Allow the air to pass through you as steadily as a waves lap against the shore. You are completely safe. You are in control of this moment."

"I'm not in control," Will whispers angrily, eyes closed tightly.

"Shh…relax, Will. Keep breathing,"

Will's eyes jerk open. "I can't do this. I'll never feel safe in a room with you."

"What are you afraid I will do?"

"You killed Abigail, who knows how many others…"

"You must abandon this theory if you ever hope to make progress."

And there it is. The answer Will has been avoiding all this time. The only way to move forward in the game is to move back. He must accept defeat in the battle and prepare himself for the war.

"If I were to accept that I murdered her…and the others…I would hate myself and want to be left here to die."

Hannibal digests this. "What if I could help you understand that what you did was not worth throwing your life away?"

"I would be…surprised."

"Will, you are not the monster in your nightmares. And neither I am."

"What are you then?"

"I'm your friend. Your only friend. Let me help you. Let us work together to get you healthy again. Then perhaps we can find a way to set you free."

Will nods slowly. The only freedom from Hannibal is death. He imagines a blade against his neck, hot breath against his cheek, and the slow, deliberate cut of a surgeon. Reality slides in and out of view. He is in the Hobbs kitchen. He is in Hannibal's office. His living room, surrounded by the dogs, but always, always held tightly in Lecter's arms.

The words come out dull and empty. "Alright. What do I have to do?"