The Last Temptation

The Last Temptation
Chapter 5: Rain is Falling

Story By: The Adrians
Song By: ELO (Electric Light Orchestra)

Started: February 28, 2007 4:45 pm PST
Finished: July 5, 2007 12:43 pm PST

Authors’ Note:

So…we wrote this chapter to near completion back in March and by some freak twist of fate, the computer we write TLT on decided to eat the file. There was complicated floppy-disc failure and a lot of tears, so for the last few months we’ve been getting over the disheartening loss of this chapter. Sorry, guys.
Thank you darkangel985 (again times 3) for your review. Thank you to L.N. Anon, Shadowdog85, Zuka, Lina, and Arche De Katze as well.
We’re sorry to have made you think we’d stopped writing. That’s hardly the case. We were just a little down after losing 12 pages.
For all of you who care, this chapter begins very early in day 14 and ends…a little after 1 pm the same day. At the rate this is going, we’ll end up with 40 chapters.
Today we’re announcing a rating change also! The beginning of this chapter is Adult ++ -ish, so we’re changing the whole thing’s rating to warn all of our weak of heart viewers. (As if there are any…If you frequently enjoy fiction from this section of AFF, you aren’t weak of very much.)
Let’s hope this is a push in the right direction for our favorite sleuth and serial killer.
Oh. Uhg! We forgot! We’re working on posting TLT on livejournal, so if any of you know a good community we could do that, we’d be psyched to hear about it. (Also, we could use some instructions on how to post to communities. -_-;) On LJ our username is lecteresque. Original, right?
One last thing, in two days (the 9th of July, is The Last Temptation [TLT]'s first birthday! Thank you so much for all of your support! We wouldn't have made it through one whole year/5 chapters without you! Let's hope next year is twice as productive!

Love and love,

T.A.

PS: READ AND REVIEW, PLEASE.

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Chapter 5: Rain is Falling

(Rain, rain go away, come again another day)

Early in the morning
The sun was up and the sky was very blue…

Will wakes up in a dimly lit room- the sun is casting grey light though an arched window just above the headboard.
He’s warm and vaguely happy under a large, soft duvet embroidered with dark curved lines along the edges.
He takes in a breath. The air smells different-
Like him and something he can’t seem to identify.
He shrugs a bit then turns into the covers.
Two familiar brown-red eyes gaze softly at him from their side of the bed and as they meet with bright blue ones, there is a gentle shift of position.
“Good morning, Starshine…” Hannibal purrs to Will’s ear in the rougher tones of only recent wakefulness.
Will smiles and shakes his head as if to say he isn’t awake.
Strong arms wrap around his waist and hips, holding him to an equally strong chest.
The younger man has to wiggle a little to get the arms in a comfortable spot.
He’s rewarded by warm lips enveloping the lobe of his ear.
Will reaches back with his left arm -the scars only faintly visible in the murky light- and runs his fingers down the back of the doctor’s neck.
The lips on his ear move down to Will’s jaw, inching bit by bit up the well-defined bone.
The ex investigator turns his head into the kisses, joining Hannibal’s lips with his own and dispersing any chastity that might have been in the soft contact.
One of Hannibal’s hands slides from Will’s waist to the growing erection between his thighs. He fondles his lover thoroughly, squeezing and stroking until he can feel Will start to rock into his caresses.
The kiss ends as Hannibal pushes Will onto his stomach and angles the younger man’s hips back to prepare him for the rough entrance to come.
Will screams into the pillow beneath him, but soon finds it more appropriate to moan as he’s penetrated expertly by a wonderfully thick erection.
Hannibal whispers sweet things to him, little bits of poetry mixed with dirty banter.
Will feels himself get harder and thrusts against the sheets to get more friction on his straining need. A warm hand soon answers his plea. It fists him expertly in time with the cock moving inside him and it will only be a matter of moments before he releases himself into the bedding.
He feels Hannibal start to tense behind him and then he’s tensing too-
Before he can comprehend the sensations, the hand that was stroking him is back on his hip, lifting it and crushing it at the same time as the Hannibal’s hips thrust hard the last few times…
And then everything is white-
And the only sound is Hannibal’s breathing and the slow drizzle of rain outside.

________________________________________________________________________________________

Without a warning,
As I looked out, my thoughts returned to you…

Clarice woke to the sound of the complimentary alarm ringing from the nightstand beside her bed. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Morning already.
For a moment she lay there, disoriented. She didn’t recognize the clean-stale scent of the room she’d woken up in.
Though as she pushed herself toward mental alertness, things started coming into place. First the phone call, then the plane, the man in the coffee shop window, and finally the hotel.
She was in Marathon Florida to check in on Will Graham on informal request of Jack Crawford. The informal request required a report and an assessment of the man’s sanity, so really it wasn’t much different from any other assignment she’d ever been given. The only difference was the distinct lack of paperwork. She wondered if she’d even get paid. Not that the federal government wasn’t paying enough or that she was having any financial difficulty. She knew if she asked Jack, he’d pull a few strings for her. That was a perk of being a favorite.
What was the price?
Abduction, ruination, constant mental torture by the number one head on the 10 most wanted list.
Clarice shook her head. She was starting to sound like Will Graham. He was the one who complained about being a favorite. He was the one with the audacity to refuse Jack’s concern. He was the one who got special check-up assignments.
Starling figured Jack’s heart had a large spot in it for Will. He probably still felt guilty for using him on the Dolarhyde case. Dragging the man out of retirement and using his philanthropic nature against him was a bit underhanded, but Graham was smart, he was an eideteker, he was a good resource, a good tool-
Clarice stopped. A tool?
She sighed. How many times had she stopped herself amidst less than friendly thoughts about Will Graham in the last two days?
Never mind. There wasn’t time to think like that now. She had to shower and get coffee before she went on her charity mission to the ex-investigator’s house.
The shop with the frosted wings on the window looked decent enough…

A noise in the city made the children run
And hide themselves away
As thunder boomed and lightening filled the sky…

Sitting beneath Will’s wings, Hannibal took his coffee a little earlier than usual. Jeremy had greeted him with a perky morning smile as he stepped in at about 6:30. The rain had started early and the doctor looked slightly damp.
The coffee took a few minutes longer than normal to prepare. The first few shots of espresso had to be ground and run through the machine, then disposed of. When the barista was satisfied with the product he brought it out to the doctor who was transfixed with the big frosted wings.
“Those aren’t just yours anymore, Doc.” He said fondly.
“Oh?” Hannibal turned to Jeremy with an interested look, taking the coffee from him.
The young man nodded and took a seat beside Hannibal. “There’s a regular I’ve known for a while that looks at those with the same kind of…thoughtfulness.”
“Oh really,” The doctor took an appreciative sip of his coffee and glanced briefly at the wings again. “I’m sure plenty of people look at those wings, Jeremy. What makes our looks different from theirs?”
Jeremy looked down, head tilted in thought as he answered. “You know, I’m not certain, Doc. I just know that you look alike when you stare at them.” He stood up then, walking back behind the counter as another early morning customer came through the door. “His name is Will Graham. He’s a good guy. I talked to him yesterday, tried to convince him to come in early.”
Hannibal smiled gently around his mug. He didn’t mind sharing if he was sharing with Will.
“He’s not an early riser, I take it?”
Jeremy smiled wide, shaking his head. “More of a night owl.” His expression got somber for a moment. “He wasn’t looking very well last night though.”
The doctor’s brow furrowed. “How so?”
The young man shrugged as he poured some drip for the customer. “I’m not sure if it’s my business to say, but he looked like he had a lot on his mind. That and both of his arms were injured.”
Hannibal nodded, taking another sip of his coffee.
Once he’d finished and checked his watch, the doctor stood and headed for the door. It was 7:30. “I might just be around here tonight, Jeremy.” He called to the young man.
Jeremy smiled and waved.

Looking from this window
A thousand rivers running past my door…

Clarice sighed audibly as she looked out her hotel room window. It was raining. It didn’t look cold, the windows weren’t fogged, but she still felt a little loath to go out in all the wet weather. Who would have thought to bring an umbrella to Florida?
She figured it was just her luck.

Jeremy smiled as another customer entered the shop. It was a young looking woman, probably in her mid thirties. She wore a business suit that made her reddish brown hair look brighter than maybe she intended. Her face was calm, but had a tired sort of haze about the eyes.
“Morning.” The blond barista called from behind the counter.
“Good morning.” She replied.
-“What can I get for you?”
She scrutinized the list of house coffees for a few moments before making a decision. “Just a cup of drip, thanks.”
Jeremy nodded. “Will that be for here or to go, ma’am?”
-“To go, please.”
The young man watched Clarice out of the corner of his eye in innocent curiosity. He noticed how she sat at the table farthest away from the wings. She looked at them, but it didn’t look like she was seeing anything. Her expression was blank, especially her eyes. She seemed to be somewhere else, staring through the wings and into the other side of the street. It was a sad, sick take on the day-dreaming face.
“Cream and sugar with that?” He asked gently.
It took the woman a few moments to realize she was being spoken to. As soon as she had, the blank expression went away and the calmness returned. Jeremy could tell her calmness was a mask.
“No, sir. Black is fine.” She smiled and held out a five dollar bill as she walked back to the counter.
Jeremy took the money, returned the change and held the Styrofoam cup of black coffee out to the woman. She took the coffee but told him to keep the change. He thanked her and out she walked to the black rental car parked close to the door.

Standing on an island
Looking for someone upon the shore…

Clarice set the hot coffee in the cup holder of the car and started for the coast.
Marathon was beautiful even when it rained.
The sun lit the world from inside a frosted dome of clouds. The light was golden, not grey like in Washington- and the rain was warm. When it came, air smelled of ocean and warm palm, not tar and car exhaust.
Marathon was calm. It was relaxed. It looked at the world through bright, knowledgeable blue eyes, and spoke to it through full, reddish lips. It had faults, yes. A few scars here and there, but even those were meaningful and charming. They signified recovery and a sense of self. Clarice knew she was describing more than just the island by that point- She was describing Will.
Will was Marathon.
Clarice felt her stomach clench and her throat tighten a bit at that thought. She knew it was silly- He wasn’t watching her. He couldn’t hear her thoughts. She swallowed and dismissed the idea.
She sighed then, taking a sip of her coffee. The last few days hadn’t been the best in the history of her mental health. She was getting anxious by the thought of a psychic island. It was beginning to feel like she needed the mental evaluation more than Will did. Of course Jack wouldn’t see it that way. He couldn’t ever see the damage work like hers and Will’s did until it was too late.
This was an assignment of regret. This was Jack’s way of saying he cared. Clarice wondered if she’d ever get a little bit of time for mental recuperation.
Will was almost killed by Hannibal, yes. But was he kissed?
Could Jack ever understand how confusing that situation was?
Will could hate, but Clarice, as hard as she had tried just couldn’t- not with the feel of his lips still tingling on hers.
She turned the car down onto the dirt road that led to Will’s house and shut it off once she had parked in the gravel drive close to the door. The coffee was still hot, but she took a long drink and got out of the car.
It was time to visit Will Graham.

I can see it very clearly, nothing’s really changed
Then lightning strikes across an empty sky…

Will woke up late.
It was 11 and the rain was beating down as hard as the sun would have been as Will returned to the waking world. Shifting to check his bedside clock, Will felt wet, stickiness all over. A look at his left arm told him why.
Will had upset the bandaging on his arm several times during the evening- enough he guessed to reopen yesterday’s injury. There was blood everywhere.
He sighed, surveying the mess he’d made of his sheets and of himself.
At least last night’s dream had been gentler…
It wasn’t the incoherent maelstrom of the one before.
It felt like the morning following a dark night storm. Grey, but warm and content.
It had felt like the morning after.
He pulled himself out of bed carefully, wadded up the bloodstained sheets and clothing, then headed for the shower.
This shower was much less eventful than the one he’d taken the previous afternoon. Will liked to think that coherent dreams made for a coherent Will- even if they showcased morning-after sex with a convicted serial killer.
He worked carefully, trying not to offend either injured arm with stinging soap or brutal scrubbing. He was successful up until he had to dry off. It was either agitate the broken knuckles or reopen the possibly fatal wound. The wound won and Will bit his lip and bore the pain it took to get dry.
Dressing wasn’t much easier.
Once he’d finished, the towel and the mass of dirty sheets and clothing went downstairs with him to the laundry room to be dealt with later.
Lunch sounded good, but first the mail. He pulled out two pieces of bread and popped them in the toaster. They’d be ready for a good slathering of peanut butter when he returned. He checked the date on his calendar. Two days since he sent his letter. If Hannibal was close enough to have coffee every morning at Jeremy’s shop, why bother sending the letters through the post? It was only another ten minutes or so out to his house. Will shrugged a little and went outside.
Will opened the mailbox and found, with little surprise, a white envelope waiting for him inside. It didn’t have a stamp or a postmark. The doctor must have dropped it off himself. The thought of the other man so close wasn’t comforting.
Will ran back inside quickly. The rain was really coming down. It wasn’t all that strange for Marathon, but it did seem a bit odd for mid July.
Once inside, Will opened the envelope with a paring knife and fished out the purplish paper. It read:

Dear Will,

It’s good to know you’d rather our friend Jack Crawford sits this one out. For that I can’t thank you enough.
I appreciate your invitation and I accept, though not just now.
You seem troubled Will- (and if the cut on your wrist is even half as deep as it looked, you’ll need far more than an ace bandage to keep it closed. I suggest stitching if your right hand can bear it.) I think it’s those dreams of yours. What’s hurting Will? Is it me being so near or is it something deeper, something darker?
If you can trust me enough to take a little professional advice, I’ll tell you the best way to sleep peacefully- dreamlessly in your case- is to avoid caffeine and find something physically strenuous to do before you go to bed.
I have seldom known you to act so rashly, Will, and I wonder if the fear you’re feeling now is different from the fear you felt for Hobbes or Dolarhyde, or any of the others. Even when you were within striking distance of me, you didn’t seem to have the uncertainty that seems to radiate from you now. What are you really afraid of?
When you’re stronger, I’ll come around.
Be careful.
Yours,
Hannibal

Will looked down at his arm and back at the paper. How in hell did Hannibal know? Will saw his answer sitting on the counter next to the sink. The to-go cup from Jeremy’s shop. He’d been out most of yesterday- the drugstore then the café. He hadn’t taken off his coat in front of Jeremy so it must have been while he was buying supplies for his arm. Will didn’t recall taking his coat off at the drugstore either. He tilted his head back and tried to imagine how the other man could have known.
He’d left the house, driven the normal way into town, turned into the drugstore parking lot one block down. He got out, walked into the store, and went immediately to the aisle that contained supplies for lacerations. He grabbed his supplies and bought them, went out to the car and bandaged his arm, and finally went to Jeremy’s for the rest of the evening. Where was there time for Hannibal to see him close enough to know about his arm?
He tried again.
Left the house, drove through town- that meant past Jeremy’s shop- Hannibal could have been having coffee as he drove by- He parked at drugstore, went inside- Hannibal might have followed him in- He grabbed supplies- gauze, surgical tape, witch hazel, alcohol- How could he have seen what Will was buying unless he was in the aisle? Will closed his eyes. Stores usually had anti-theft devices. Will doubted Hannibal was watching through the monitors in the back room. What about mirrors? Small business owners that couldn’t afford all-out surveillance usually used mirrors. They set them up so employees could see a few aisles over at any one time.
Will nodded. Mirrors sounded plausible. How then, did Hannibal know the severity of the cut? “You’ll need a lot more than an ace bandage to keep it closed…” He knew about the ace bandages from the mirror. Ace bandages…That was it.
He’d reached up with his left arm to get the last box of ace bandages. If Hannibal was positioned correctly, he could have seen not just the items Will was purchasing but the sliding of the sleeve on Will’s jacket and the obvious self-inflicted wound.
The ex investigator let out an exasperated breath and let his head fall to the counter in front of him.
There had been only two aisles separating them…
Will shuddered and placed the letter back in its envelope, then into a slot on the letter rack on the counter to his left. He got up from the chair at his bar counter and went into the kitchen to fix himself some lunch. The bread had long since toasted and was only waiting for peanut butter. He was about to begin spreading when a courteous knock on the door told him to do otherwise. He ducked into the laundry room and pulled a clean looking long-sleeved shirt from the hamper. Why purposely scare a girl-scout?
Will closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he started for the door. Another knock came just before he could open it.
Already he could tell it was someone from the Bureau. The knock was too courteous to be anyone else.
Will opened the door on a reddish-brown haired woman in a suit that screamed FBI. She was holding a small note pad and her badge. Immediately he recognized her as Clarice Starling.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Graham. My name is Clarice Starling. I’m-“ The woman began,
-“With the FBI, I know. Jack sent you here.”
She looked down a little as if ashamed. Will could tell she wasn’t the kind of person who liked doing this kind of work. He caught himself feeling a little sorry for her as she returned her gaze to him.
“Yes, he did.”
Will tried to soften his expression. “I see. Is there a problem?”
She shook her head. “No, sir. There’s no problem. I was sent to get a formal statement as to why you are refusing protective custody. It’s silly but…”
He nodded, smiling. He knew exactly how silly the paperwork was for things like this. “Yeah. I know. I’ve done my share of formal statement collecting. Do you want to come in?”
Clarice smiled, looking up at the sky, then back at Will. “If you wouldn’t mind. It’s a bit rainy out.”

Ooh, the rain is falling
Ooh, the rain is falling
Ooh, the rain is falling
Will it wash away those lonely tears?

“I hope you don’t mind that I eat. You caught me in the middle of lunch.” Will explained calmly as he led the other agent to the bar counter. She took a seat in one of the middle stools and watched as Will went around the wall, into the kitchen, where he began to spread peanut butter on slices of toasted bread.
“No, not at all. I’m sorry if I’ve come at a bad time, Mr. Graham.” She cringed a little at the amount of peanut butter that the man had managed to get between the toast.
“You can call me Will. So you want a formal statement,” Will paused to take a bite of the thick sandwich. He chewed thoughtfully, looking down at the plate as he mentally composed a thorough and plausible final statement. “How’s this: I, William Graham, of precarious mind and body,”
Clarice chuckled. He was kind of charming. She shook her head and forced herself to focus.
“do decline the offer of protective custody from the Federal Bureau of Investigation on the grounds that I do not believe that I am in, or will come into any danger from the escaped serial killer, Dr. Hannibal Lecter.”
She wrote the words down with a tiny grin. He had a sense of humor- even after almost having his life taken from him on several occasions.
“That’s just fine, Mr.- Will. Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
Will shrugged. “Nope. Ask away.”
“Why don’t you think you’re in danger?”
Will was expecting something of the sort. He took another pensive bite of his sandwich before answering. “I’ve known the doctor a long time. We have a sort of understanding about this- We won’t go out of our way to see each other. It keeps me alive and him free.”
Her face got that blank look about it as she listened to his explanation. Understanding…
She swallowed. “You knew him on a more personal level?”
Will arched an eyebrow, but nodded. “Yes. You could say we were friends…But what kind of friend stabs the other with a paper knife?” He knew it was more complicated than that. Hannibal hadn’t just stabbed a friend. He stabbed someone he admired, someone he respected, someone who had amazed him. It was a mix of sorrow and awe in the older man’s eyes as he knelt down to cut out Will’s heart. But Clarice didn’t need to know that. He was trying to convince her that he didn’t need protective custody.
Clarice nodded. She was about to ask another question when the phone on the wall beside the bar counter began to ring. Will sighed audibly and reached from his side of the counter to pick it up.
“Hello?”
“Molly. Yes, how can I help you?”
Will put his hand over the receiver and looked at Clarice apologetically.
“Can you give me a minute, Agent Starling? It’s my ex-wife.”
Clarice stood up. “Should I go?”
Will waved his hand and shook his head. “I’ll only be a few minutes. Have a seat.”

(It’s raining, it’s pouring. The old man is snoring.)

With their brand new time transporter
They’ll think maybe I fought to get away…

Clarice sat down again as Will came around the bar and out the back door. He closed it tightly behind him.
Suddenly Clarice was happy she’d never married. It seemed like an awful lot of work for something that didn’t deliver the eternal happiness it promised. She wondered what Will had done to deserve today’s phone call. Was the child support check late? No, the boy in Will’s file wasn’t biologically his. Were there unsettled properties or possessions? That sounded more like it. What kind of relationship did Will keep with Molly? How much did she know about his working life? What were the grounds for divorce? It probably had a lot more to do with Dolarhyde than Molly wanted to admit.
Clarice shook her head. It wasn’t any of her business.
She turned her attention to her surroundings instead. The house on the water with large windows, hidden away by palms was certainly Will’s style. He didn’t seem to like to attract attention from anyone.
Clarice looked to her right; a small wine rack rested on the counter. It held a few bottles of red wine from a vineyard she wasn’t familiar with. To her left, the phone, a cup of pens, a box of stationary, a letter rack, nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to suggest the mania Jack sent her here to look for. She rested her head against the heel of one palm and closed her eyes. The layout of Will’s kitchen played out on her eyelids. Wine rack, pens, stationary, letter rack- she opened her eyes and looked at the small, ordinary organizational device. It was black and none of the slots were labeled. A small stack of letters sat in one of the slots. Peeking out from the torn envelopes was purplish paper. Clarice frowned. Who used purple stationary?
Before she could stop herself, her hand had already taken the letters from the slot and was opening one. As her eyes met familiar handwriting, she felt cold dread wash down her throat and into her stomach.
Hannibal.
She read each of the letters quickly, very conscious of when Will would return.
Most of them talked about injury or dreams. The first letter promised a P.O. box address. Will had probably disposed of it to be safe. The man had both and injured hand and arm That explained the long sleeves. Florida didn’t get cold when it rained. Hannibal still had both hands. Will was having dreams that Hannibal had taken an interest in. He had decided not to have the bureau involved for some reason or other, but was concerned Hannibal had come to kill him. Hannibal had firmly stated that that wasn’t why he was here. The last of the letters mentioned an invitation.
Will had asked Hannibal to see him.
That coldness in Clarice’s stomach quickly turned hot as envy’s flame licked at her insides. She looked at the signatures.
“Yours, Hannibal”
Yours?
He was signing himself to Will.
Clarice wanted to scream, to cry, to curl into herself for a long, long time, but something told her she should wait.
All that could wait.
Right now she had to get out of Will’s house.
She slid the letters back into the envelopes, then put them back in a stack in the slot she’d found them.
Will was only a minute or so more.

But with all their great inventions
And all their good intentions, here I stay…

Will very quickly noticed something had changed. Clarice was holding herself more stiffly and that blurry, daydreaming look had taken on a sort of sinister glow. He hoped it was his frustration with Molly that was putting him on edge, but the way she looked at him, with cool indifference, was telling him something different.
“Sorry about that. My ex wife is having some sort of a crisis and she forgot we aren’t married anymore.” He said carefully from behind the bar.
Clarice smiled, but she didn’t try to make it look genuine at all.
“That’s fine. I think I’ve got all I need.”
Will watched as she got up and made her way toward the door. He followed at a distance. Just before stepping outside she turned and shook Will’s hand. Her eyes were blank and glassy, like they were waiting to spill with tears. He acted as if he didn’t notice.
“Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Graham. Don’t hesitate to call if there’s anything you need.”
Will nodded and closed the door.
He was back in the kitchen almost instantly. He pulled the letters from the slot, and just as he suspected, they were out of order. Two had been placed in the wrong envelope.
Will let his head fall against the counter.
What now?
If he went after her and caught her, what would he do then? Kill her?
No. That was a technique all too familiar to Will. He may have been communicating with a killer but he certainly wasn’t becoming one.
The look in Clarice’s eyes didn’t suggest she was going to Jack any time soon.
Will pulled a piece of stationary from the box to his left and began writing.

Down on the corner where the sun had shone
The people gathered ‘round
Then scattered as the raindrops hit the ground…

Hannibal was once again beneath Will’s wings, sipping a coffee tribute to himself and generally enjoying the torrential downpour outside. Jeremy sat beside him with a cup of the very same cooling in his hand.
“It’s been kind of a strange day, Doc.” The blond said idly, looking out the window at the watery sheet he could barely see the other side of.
Hannibal tilted his head a little, a signal that he was listening.
“Well, first this weather. Marathon in July doesn’t usually see rain. Next, an odd customer I had about an hour ago. She had this look about her, Doc…I’ve had some miserable people in here before, but she took the cake. That and the suit she was wearing was a bit much…”
The doctor knew exactly who Jeremy was talking about when he got to the suit. God, that woman never took his advice on suits. He turned to Jeremy then. He actually looked troubled, despite the bit of comedy he’d infused into the report of his day.
“What kind of look do you mean, Jeremy?”
The blond didn’t bother stopping to think. “Like she was looking, but not seeing anything. Like a little girl daydreaming, but sadder, sicker, you know?”
Hannibal knew that look very well. He nodded and took a sip of the coffee.
“Did she say where she was headed?”
Jeremy shook his head. “No, but from what I could tell she drove off towards the coast. Know what, doc?”
The doctor arched his eyebrows.
“She looked a little like a Fed- with her suit and fake calmness. You know, I think Will worked for the FBI for a while. I hope that woman wasn’t sent to see him. He’s in bad shape already.”
Hannibal was grateful for the blindness of the youth these days. He took a sip of his coffee and looked out the window at a car speeding through town. The plates were rentals.
So Clarice had finished her interview with Will. By the way she was driving, the doctor could tell things hadn’t gone quite as they should have. Had she and Will fought about something? Did she see his arm? Had she found the letters?
He was starting to wonder if Will had gotten his most recent letter when he saw the younger man’s car go by, significantly slower than Clarice’s. It looked as if it had contemplated turning into the coffee shop.
Wouldn’t that be an interesting turn of events? Will wet with rain, eyes heavy with worry, running into Jeremy’s shop to come face to face with what he feared most.
When the car didn’t turn, Hannibal leaned forward and watched for as long as he could see through the rain. It was going past the drugstore. The only other building past the drugstore was the post office.
Hannibal stood up and headed for the door. “Jeremy, I’ll return shortly. There’s something I’ve got to pick up.”
The young man blinked, confused. He nodded anyway and said he’d keep the older man’s spot.
Lecter pulled out of the coffee shop and turned right, like he might be headed for the coast. He intended on taking the back way to the post office. There was no need to frighten Will.
At the supermarket light, he took a left. He traveled that way for a few blocks, then took another left at a small quilting shop. He was heading back in the direction he came, only a few streets over. He eventually passed the back entrance to the drugstore. Next would be the back entrance to the post office. He drove in and parked behind the building. As Hannibal made his way to the front entrance of the building, he watched Will’s car pull out.
Today was proving to be interesting after all.
Inside the building, the doctor unlocked his box to a white envelope, unmarked except for his name across the front. He opened it and unfolded the letter. It was written in the quick confidence of a right hand. It must have been very painful. Hannibal frowned and read.

Hannibal,
Clarice found the letters. I wouldn’t get worried just yet. She didn’t look like she was heading to Jack anytime soon. I’m not sure if that’s for better or worse right now.
There’s something about the way she looked at me- like she was jealous, angry, broken hearted. Whatever you did with her when you two were together she took as a promise.
I know you’re wondering how I feel about that. And to tell you the truth, I’m not sure. Frankly, I’m more concerned about whether or not I’ll be waking up tomorrow to a knife through my chest.
We’re both in the sights of your monster. Whether I’m ready to see you doesn’t matter anymore. We have to meet and soon. Tonight- Jeremy’s shop, 8:00.
-Will

PS: I’m terrified of needles. I can’t stitch my arm.

Ooh, the rain is falling
Ooh, the rain is falling
Ooh, the rain is falling
Will it wash away those lonely tears?

Hannibal couldn’t fight back the smile that threatened to breach his lips. Instead he let it creep over his face and fill him with the satisfaction of yet another game in his favor. He returned to the black Bentley and drove to the drugstore to pick up a bit of surgical floss... just in case.

Ooh, the rain is falling
Ooh, the rain is falling
Ooh, the rain is falling
Will it wash away those lonely tears?

(It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring)
(Rain, rain, go away. Come again another day)