With the night this dark, the window which Will Graham stared out at was more like a wall than anything else. He gave up trying to see the outside world and retired slowly and wearily to the confines of his blankets. He lay his head on the pillow like someone would lay their head on a guillotine. He couldn't stop thinking about him. Even now he imagined that face looming over his own, Hannibal's lips almost touching his but not quite. Will's hands clutched the sides of his mattress as the memory of Lecter's scent washed over him.

A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of closing his eyes. There was a strange sense of relief when the phone in his dressing gown pocket began to glow and buzz.

They went back inside without another word. Rosalind opened the door and stood aside to let Hannibal past.

'Ladies first,' he purred. She nodded slightly and retreated back into the warmth of the kitchen, all too aware of his gaze upon her as she walked. He closed the door behind him. Rosalind felt as though he were shutting the door on what had happened outside. It was over now, that much she knew. She spun back around to speak to him, to thank him for his company, and to move on. She hadn't heard him move from the door, but when as soon as she was facing him, there was a flash of movement. His right hand was on the small of her back and pulling her towards him, and there she was suddenly with Hannibal leaning over her and his eyes fixing her solidly frozen to the spot. His left hand slowly ran up from the side of her chest, across her collarbone, and then up until his fingers were entangled in her hair with his hand holding her head barely a hair's breadth from his. Her breath caught in the bottom of her throat.

Hannibal waited. Rosalind cut the pause by lifting her own hands up and cupping his lined faces before raising herself up and threw her lips against his. To hell with it being over, to hell with appearances! There was Hannibal, there was Hannibal's sweet hot breath in her mouth, and Hannibal's hands upon her body-

And there was someone watching them. Hannibal pulled away first and took a step back. There was a look of shame, not presented in the usual blush, but in the way he bit his lip and eyed the floor. Rosalind turned to their unexpected visitor and saw her brother standing spellbound on the spot.

'Hello, Neil,' Rosalind said, smiling. The conversation that followed is long forgotten. It was uncomfortable, menial, and unimportant. What was important was Hannibal's striking silhouette slipping past them back into the crowds.

Jack Crawford leaned back against the edge of his desk and let Will do his thing. 'That's four unconnected murders all within the same area over the last four months,' he said. 'What are we thinking?'

'They're not unconnected.' Will brought a blanket of silence down over the room. He moved towards the photo-strewn cork board and continued, 'Each murder is the beginning of a new zodiac. Look - Perry King, February nineteenth. Pisces. Margaret Dern, March twenty-first. Aries. Kevin White, April twentieth. Taurus. Charlotte Cole, May twenty-first. Gemini. And then there's the style. It's an evolutionary process. See how they've taken the toxin used in the second murder and then concentrated down to the exact amount by the fourth? Every time they murder, they make a point of improving their technique.'

Jack shifted uncomfortably. 'You're sure this is the one person?'

'Positive.'

Hannibal looked back over his shoulder. Rosalind was deep in conversation with her friends and others. He watched her brush her hair back over her bare shoulders, remembering the feel of her body against his. Without even realising it, he was staring at her, and his bottom lip was dragging beneath his teeth.

Rosalind broke her eyes away for a moment and looked back for Hannibal in the ever-moving crowds. She caught a glimpse but nothing more. He looked as though he may have been looking her way, but she dismissed the thought as only wishful thinking.

Another hour passed like this, until eventually, it became too much. Hannibal had to give in. How any woman could build up so much desire in him from across the room was unimaginable, but it was real. There was a fire, a burning, flaming sensation throughout his entire body which flared as he moved slowly towards her. He didn't know what to say, but he ran his finger over the back of her hand and kept moving. Rosalind was ever so subtle about it. She nodded politely to her companions and excused herself, and then was caught up beside him in seconds.

'Where are we going?' she whispered under her breath.

'Somewhere a little quieter,' he said, 'where we can be alone.'

Rosalind scoffed softly, 'Well there's nowhere here we can-'

Hannibal pulled his car keys from his pocket and dangled them on the end of his finger. 'I know that,' he smiled. Rosalind's lips formed a small 'o', then pulled back into a knowing smirk. Her eyes began to glisten.

'Then I had better say my adieus,' she whispered.

The goodbyes were done as quickly as was polite to do so without any suspicion. Rosalind left first after an awkward exchange with her brother, Hannibal soon after. When he finally left through the front door, and the soft chill of the night was there to greet him, there was a great sigh that passed through his body. He waited.

A hand brushed against his shoulder as Rosalind emerged from the shadows and swung herself round to face him. 'I must say I'm rather looking forward to this,' she said.

'You and me both.'

The valet brought Hannibal's car around and gave him back his spare keys.

'This is yours?' Rosalind breathed. He nodded. 'I can honestly say that I would be quite willing to do this right here right now. It's gorgeous.' She walked around it, the look in her eyes unbearably sexy.

'That's a very interesting proposition,' he replied softly, with a purr he usually reserved for Will Graham. 'I may have to take you up on that.' Rosalind drew her lip back, titled her head slightly showing her neck, and then joined him inside. She threw her hair over to one side so that he could see the way her shoulders and her back moved as she pulled the door to.

'Onwards?'

Will walked back into the room to see Jack on the phone, silent, unanswered. He shifted uneasily when he saw Will.

'You don't need to call him for me,' he said, sitting down at the other side of the desk. 'I am perfectly capable of using my own cell phone.'

Jack slammed down the phone and threw his hands up. The frustration was showing in his face. 'I can't help it if I'm concerned, Will. You're hardly the perfect picture of health.'

Will walked past him and began looking at the wall again. 'I'm not a picture, Jack, I'm a human being,' he said absentmindedly. Latest murder - the intestines - the smaller tied in a masthead knot mat and the larger in a Turk's head. The feet pushed through the Turk's head, Turk's head connected to the masthead, the masthead connected to the light fitting. Hands tied to together behind the victim's back with rope made from their own hair.

'Well maybe it's time you realised that too and started taking care of yourself. You look like a walking slice of hell.'

'Your concern is touching, but I'm a little busy saving lives and finding murderers to be taking care of myself. Besides, you already have Doctor Lecter keeping tabs on me. What is there to be concerned about? Unless you think he is incapable of doing his job?'

'Of course I don't.'

Will ran his head through his hands, trying to create a picture of this new killer. He-no, she…was meticulous, but had great passion in her work. It was aggressive, flamboyant, but elegant. That profile fitted hundreds of women.

'I need to visit the crime scenes. I can't work from photographs.'

Jack gave up. 'You'd better get your coat then.'