A/N: inspired by a gifset going around on tumblr that swapped out Hannibal for Maura, this thing popped into my head and hasn't left for weeks. It's dark and twisted and has Rizzles. If blood and guts and all that isn't your bag, then turn back now. Cause this is going to have it all. Draws strongly on the book 'Hannibal' as well as the show. Some 'Silence of the Lambs' will be showing up at some point. Bon appetit.

I tap him against the temple. He stirs just a little and opens his eyes, trying to focus in the dark.

The boat rocks gently back and forth as I stand above him and I feel the slightest surge of power course through me. I enjoy the view from up here. He looks around and then looks at me, confused.

"Hello, Adam." I am polite, despite his past discourtesy towards me. I even prop him up so that he is sitting.

He tries to speak, but the tape over his mouth just butchers my name to "Mmmorahh." I roll my eyes at his attempt as I kneel down in front of him.

A trickle of blood makes its way down from his hairline where the ship's boom collided with him.

He looks out over the water; maybe for help, maybe for point of land to understand where we are, and I press my thumb into the laceration. He rolls his head back trying to escape the pain and screams against the tape. I'm sure I could easily squirm under his scalp if I truly wanted to.

"Do you remember summers on the Cape?" I keep my hand steady and he looks at me with one eye, his other closed and stained by blood. I'm sure he tells me to go fuck myself, and this time I press my thumb further. Separating skin from muscle; his bound hands pounding hard against his leg.

"Do you?"

He nods this time and I pull a handkerchief from my pocket and clean my hand as I stand back up.

"Good," I say and step back. Kicking the bottom of his loafer, I look him over; "You look cheap."

I can see him turning the memories over in his head in the dullness of the moonlight; like the complexities of watch. The gears attempting to tick and click into place and move forward. And then it does. I know because his good eye widens.

"Yes. I do remember you calling me that once." He had as he held me down.

Now I'm sure I hear him say 'I'm sorry'. Over and over.

My hand slips into my pocket and I can feel the cool metal there. Bringing my hand out, I flick my wrist and the blade clicks happily. He is leaning away from me now as I kneel back beside him.

His smug sense of entitlement has all but withered away. It seeps out of the Fairfields. I feel anger well inside me. I steady myself and resist the urge to slit his throat. That can wait.

"I'm having a dinner party this weekend. Your family is invited." I trail the curve of the knife down his gaudy sweater. I press harder and the strands separate. I pull his shirt open and rest my hands on my knees.

"Sweet breads." I tap the center of his chest with the knife's handle. "They are commonly prepared by soaking in salt water and then being poached in milk." I don't know why I bother explaining it to him. Though all things considered, he is going to be a course.

"Adam, would you prefer an appetizer or..." I pull the knife away from his chest and smile. I tap the blade against my teeth. "Dessert. I'll save you for last."

His eyes shut tightly and tears mix with his sweat. "Your thymus gland gets its name from the Greek word thumos, meaning life. Heart. Soul. Desire." I smile as I push the knife's point against him and am rewarded with a small rising of blood.

"It can also translate to mean anger." I push further until I feel the blade press against the bone of his sternum. He is struggling against the ropes and I don't particularly care for the sounds he is making, like some kind of wounded animal.

I lean in close to his ear and pull my knife out. "I am going to crack open your chest, Adam."

His breath hitches as I stand. And that's where I want him to stay, suspended just before his diaphragm contracts and his lungs expand. I move my hand low across him. Swiftly. And when the blade severs his carotid I am blessed with arterial spray. It tastes like copper and wine.

I cut his ropes and open the fuel tank of the small inboard motor. I dip them in like wicks and let them soak while I retrieve my tote from the cabin below. I travel lightly on nights like this. My knife, a single scalpel and a small bone saw, as well as ziplocks and an insulated bag for what I take. To keep it cool. Fresh.

He's choking on his own blood and slumped on his side; in between the motions of breathing. I push my foot into his chest and he rolls onto his back. His hand comes up limply in some desperate attempt to fight me off and I push it back down gently beside him.

I press my scalpel firmly against the opening the knife had made earlier and splay him.

I steer the boat towards a wooded area near the coast to an opening I had scouted earlier. Tossing my items on the clearing I pull the wheel hard to port and, kneeling, light the ropes I left soaking. I push the throttle forward completely and jump off into water waist high.

Making my way to shore, I gather my things and watch the boat move out into the distance and to open water. If the explosion doesn't destroy the body he will be reduced to bones by scavengers on the ocean floor. Picked clean of features. Stripped of anything and forgotten.

I place my tote into the trunk of my car, and open a small black trash bag with dry clothes. I change quickly and store my wet clothes away in the bag. I will dispose of them when I arrive home.

Getting in I can't help but notice the envelope sitting in the passenger seat with 'Jane' neatly written across the front of it. I pick it up and feel a small sense of pride well in my chest at the penmanship. I had taken my time with those four simple letters. They were perfect.

I wanted to be formal with the invitation, though part of me wanted to ask her directly to gauge her reaction. Would she assume that I was asking it in terms of friendship? Or dissect that I meant it in the form of a date, perhaps? I preferred the latter.

I place the envelope back on the seat and start my car just as I hear a sound in the distance.

Like thunder before a monstrous storm.

A/N: this chapter has been revised. each chapter from here on out will be revised in the coming weeks. Author's Notes from the original chapters will be deleted unless they are pertinent (mostly for tie in's to Hannibal (TV show and book) and Silence of the Lambs)