___

George Inness
1887
___

BLUE eyes scanned her from up to down, a confused expression took over her face, impossible to hide. "Maybe I should pass by later..."

"Sorry, I was painting." Alice Mallory smiled in a goofy mood, incredibly creative. Her whole face was full of different ink colors, including the apron she wore and her hands. "May I help you with something?" She squinted her eyes analyzing the red haired in front of her. "Oh, no...don't tell me Colin messed up again. Are you one of his teachers?"

"No, no." The woman shaked her head, giving a half smile. "Just to be sure, you're alice Mallory right?" She didn't seem very convinced, actually, for her, she seemed nuts.

"Yes, I am."

"Great." The woman had an expression divided into disgust for the amount of paing anf the joy of finding who she seeked for, standing her thin hand to her. "I'm Freddie Lounds." Alice tried to clean her hand at the apron to shake the woman's one. "Reporter from TattleCrime.com."

Alice furrowed her eyebrows confused at that moment, her hand held hers in the air and stopped shaking. "A reporter?"

"Yes." She replied, taking her hand and analyzing if there was any remaining ink from hers. "I know this might seem surprising, but a source informed me that the FBI reopened your sister's case, Bree Mallory. Is it true?"

Alice was a very polite person but that woman seemed fishy. No one from the FBI spoke about reporters. And worse, the way she treated the situation, as just some column to her blog instead of a life, made Alice become extremly serious, cold and defensive."Who told you that?"

"It is not important for now." Freddie wouldn't give away any details. "What matters is: I want to tell your story."

"Excuse me?" Alice couldn't hide her offended expression this time.

"Your sister's murderer was ignored at the first time, your story was ignored. I want to tell it this time, to write it."She spoke confident. "To bring justice to the tragedy that happened to your family." She tried to convince her almost like she was selling a new car.

"Were you sent by the FBI?"

"No." Freddie answered, already fearing her reaction. "But it is your choice to-"

"Look Ms.Lounds, it is very.....kind, of you to come all this way to propose this, I am very honored, and thankful of your part to be concerned about my family's side of the story, I appreciate it. Truly." Alice replied in her kind, polite tone she used when someone annoyed her. But she didn't mean any of those words at all. "But I don't think any blog or news would help me solve my sister's case now. Actually, It would rather trouble the investigation, and that is the last thing I'd like to happen." She looked intensely into her eyes, almost as if she fired a gun towards her direction. "So I apologize, but I must decline your offer."

"Wait, Ms.Mallory..." Freddie tried tp give a warm smile that hinted a mischievous trace of hers in it. "I understand your worries, but a column based on your point of view would make the FBI work faster, maybe-"

"Or give you money with views and trouble the police's work with thr press." She dispensed coutersy this time. Alice was done with that woman. "Again, Ms.Lounds, the answer is no."

Freddie Lounds didn't expect that to be her answer, usually people in grif were easier to collaborate and tell their sides of the story, also give away important information abiut the investigation. But something about Alice Mallory stopped her from doing so. Which made her even more intrigued...and irritated.

"If that is all you had to say, I need to go, as I've mentioned..." she took a painting brusj from the pockets of the apron, ot was covered in purple ink, and as she moved it to take it off, almost splashed at Freddie. "...Excuse me" She was about to close the door when Freddie Lounds stopped it with her foot.

"I'm sorry that you think that way Ms.Mallory, I truly am." Her expression said otherwise. "I wish you could change your mind. " Freddie contimued "Allow me one last question, then?"

"What question?" Alice replied sharply.

"Do you have any sort of connection to Will Graham?" She asked, Alice gave no reaction.

She just stared into those ice blue eyes which seemed to search the depths of her soul for answers. "No." Alice retorted. "No, I'm afraid I've never heard that name before." She lied. "Should I have?"

Freddie Lounds didn't seem completely convinced, but also had no way to prove that the woman was lying. Instead, she simply replied "it doesn't matter. Noy anyone important. That's all." She completed, the fake smile again across her lips, but the eyes filled with an intense, burning fire."Thank you for your time, Ms.Mallory. Again, if you change your mind..." she delivered her card. "Please contact me."

With those words, Freddie Lounds said goodbye and turned away, leaving the residence. Once Alice closed the door, she typed fast someone's number.

"Hey, Will?" She made sure the door was locked. "Do you know someone named Freddie Lounds?"

▫️

"Ms.Mallory." Hannibal Lecter greeted her politely. "Please, come in."

Alice Mallory seemed quite radiant in her red skirt and white sweather covered in daisies' prints. She carried a thin medium sized package beneath her arm, which caused the doctor a bit of curiousity.

The thing about Alice is that, even if he tried to understand her, in the end, she turned out to be unpredictable. And he didn't know how he felt about it, if it wa sbad or not for his plans. For now, just analyzed it.

"How is your brother?" He asked.

"He is great, well, still with the cast, but already home." She said brightly, the news seemed to give her much relief. She just then noticed he stared at the package."Oh! Right! I almost forgot!" Ali e spoke excited, almost electric, then gave him the package "this is for you."

He exchanged a confused expression with her enthusiastic one. "For me?"

"Yes, open it."

"Ms.Mallory, I've already said, I can't accept gifts-"

"This isn't a patient's gift, it's a grateful person's one." She said wisely. He had a small smirk on his lips. "Now please open it. If you hate it you can return it to me."

Hannibal Lecter stared intensely into those determined eyes of hers, there was this sparkle in them he's never seen similar before. They were quite fascinating.

"I believe I have no choice." He said with a bit of humor, then, put the object on the desk, starting to slowly remove paper wrapped package until achieving the final product.

"Of course it's not as great as an original, but I didn't know what to buy or-"

"It is remarkable." He muttered with his sight glued to the present, there was a noticeable glow in his eyes.

"...did you... like it...?" Alice asked a bit surprised.

Hannibal held the present in his hands, his expression was a mistery to be solved. She didn't know if he despised or loved it.

"It is-"

" 'Watching the Sun Glow by George Inness, 1887' " he replied right away.

"Oh, so do you know." Alice giggled, still a bit fearful. "As I've said, it's not the original, so-"

He glanced at her, his eyebrows lifted, somehow impressed, surprised by her statement. "Did you pain this by yourself?" He questioned.

"...um....Yes." She looked away, feeling shy. "I know, it's not very good-"

"That is an understatement." He refused to believe her words, still mesmerized by the landscape painted with delicate brushes on the canvas. "You have prodigious abilities."

Alice blushed intensely, complimenting her work was almost as complimenting herself. She gave a small smile and thanked him.

And indeed, he seemed enchanted by the piece, even if it was a copy, it was perfect, almost impossible to notice differences from the original. She had a true gift.

Hannibal Lecter analyzed the paonting, then squinted his eyes. Alice feared a critic. "But the frame doesn't match." He corrected.

"What?" She thought her ears deceived her at firstn

"The frame that was chosen for the paiting, it is..." he looked to the ceiling, trying to find the right words. "...A poor choice." He spoke, finally sounding normal again. "But that is a common mistake. Besides it, your work is fantastic."

Alice felt way more calm at his statement, sighing relieved "I was never really good at picking frames." She chuckled.

Hannibal stared at the walls, already planning the perfect spot to set the present it later. Then turned to the artist, responsible for that piece.

The way he looked at her now was slightly different. That creature, that woman seemed to develop more and more layers whenever he saw her, as new traces showed up in the surface, one as interesting as the other. He found himself curious to know all of them.

"I really appreciate it, thank you." He seemed very sincere about it.

"It is the least I could do since you helped me." She replied.

Right, because he gave her a drive the other week to help Colin. Alice Mallory indeed didn't like to be in debt with others.

"May I ask you something?" He suddenly broke the silence, asking smoothly.

"Sure."

"Why this piece in particular?" He asked curious for her answer.

"Well..." she thought for a minute "At first I wanted something to match with the walls." She showed the tones in grey and red of his office. "I don't know for sure why, but George Innes immediatly came to my mind." Alice lifted her shpulders indifferent. "He used to say that painting is a way to reproduce in other minds which a scene has made upon him... to awaken an emotion."

Hannibal let the painting on the desk, taking one step towards her. "What emotion awakens you by this piece?" He asked, and in his own way, completely drawn into her speech.

"Mystery, uncertainty." She said too absorved into her thoughts to notice that now he standed in ftomt of her, observing her as some museum anciant sculpture created by talented greeks. " A warm fear that takes over my soul." She looked at Hannibal, who was comepletely attentive to her words. It was rare for someone to share such cultured, artistic and philosophical thoughts with him. "Have you ever felt that way?"

"Perphaps." He suggested, enjoying the conversation. "Memory is unstable, fragile, just as emotions. For example, There are moments connected to the feelings that we have the dèja vu, at the same time, maybe we don't." He admired the color of her deep contrasting eyes. "That's what I feel towards this emotion you describe."

Alice liked the way he used to speak, she found it slightly peculiar. It was almost as he spoke a foreign language that she didn't know but also had great knowledge into. His accent was also something to die for.

"Inness believed that everything in nature had a mystical component, which he conveyed in his paintings with asymmetrical and balanced compositions forms with these... softned edges and saturated colors." Alice delicately added. "Perphaps I wanted to represent some of the mystical side of painting into this."

It was weird, yet interesting how he could listen to her speak about art for hours, her voice was like some sort of well played music, and the lyrics fit right into her ears.

"I consider this also an achievement." He smiled charmingly, she looked at him confused. "In 4 months, you've painted for the first time."

Alice widened her eyes, just now she realized. Since Bree left, Alice never found motivation again. But now she did it. She opened her mouth in an "O" to his statement, he tried not to chuckle at her reactions. She was inevitably funny without even trying to.

"My day keeps getting better." She spoke optimistic.

"Well, let's make good use of it." He showed her the armchair, a hidden pleasure behind his statement, he could listen to her voice for a few more hours. "Shall we begin?"

▫️

The coffee was delivered by a gentle yet curious waitress with blonde hair and bright teeth, so artificial that could blind someone's eyes from their brightness.

The grey sky followed them with some clouds, while busy people walked past the sidewalks and cars buzzed speeding.

The café was a bit crowded, more than usual, but it was better that way, so they couldn't be noticed or listened by others.

"I've talked with Jack." Will Graham finally broke the deadly silence between them. "They are searching who is Freddie's informant that gave away the information about the case."

Alice nodded quietly, understanding his words. According to the call she had with him on the phone, Freddie Lounds was a nosy and greedy reporter willing to make the BAU's life true hell while interfering with the investigations.

"Why did she want to speak with me?" Alice questioned, with her hands resting on both sides of the cup, trying to warm them.

"She wants a good story, anything that can make her profit from the tragedies of others. You are not the first she reached out recently." He told her, noticing Alice shiver by the cold weather. He had the instant urge to hold her hands and warm them instead the cup she used. But he didn't do it.

"Who?"

Will made a pause before speaking. Someone at the other side of the café asked for a big portion of waffles.

"Abigail Hobbs." He answered monotone, taking a huge sip of his coffee.

Alice looked down at the table, swallowing dry the words. All she wanted was justice for Bree, but appearently it would be harder than she expected.

"How is Abigail?"

Will looked into his friend's eyes, as always, she was worrting about others before herself. Even if it was a girl she didn't know. "Still a bit surprised over the whole situation. But her health is okay."

"Must be hard." Alice commented while looking down at her reflection on the coffee. "Do you... believe in what people are saying?" She feared to ask,.looking up towards his sight. "I mean, it's absurd, right? A little girl involved with-"

"Don't listen to them." Will directely assured her. "Abigail wasn't involved with Garret Jacob Hobbs in his crimes."

He seemed so sure of it that Alice believed in him. Will was rarely wrong about his intuitions. She knew he was incredibly capable of solving a crime like anyone else.

"And how are you?" Her sentence cut his chest like a knife.

"What?" He asked, his glasses a bit blurred from the vapor coming from the hot coffee.

"I know you too well, Will." She said to him. "Better than you want me to, and you know that."

"Alice..."

"You are having multiple therapy sessions, and I recently discovered that you..." she looked around, checking if the were being heard, her tone lowered "...killed... a man."

"I didn't-"

"You did it for Abigail, I understand it." She seemed to completely know what he was talking or felt about. Their eyes sinked into each other's, telling secrets and reminiscing memories that no one else knew, as cold snowflakes falling into warm soil. "You know I understand it better than anyone."

Will looked down, sighing, his cury hair strands fell above his face. She knew he was broken just like her, but even fragilized, she wanted to fix him. She has always wanted to do that.

If only he let her put those pieces together and not be afraid of her cutting herself in them...

"I don't want you to overwhelm yourself in this case if you are not alright Will." She confessed, the warmness of the cup was slowly vanishing away. "I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if something..." she paused the sentence. "Something caused a tragedy..."

"I am fine." He told her fiercely.

"That's what I tell Colin everyday. But we both know that isn't the truth." She admitted, Will hated the fact that she knew him better than anyone else, that could read his expression so well, but also loved it. "I want you to be happy, Will."

He looked away, didn't know how to reply. Once again he could see themselves at college, whenever she caught him by surprise with sentences as that one, as he would stutter, blush, and immediayly shut down any words inside his throat.

"Are you happy?" She asked in a whisper. He looked back into her eyes he could stare at them for eternity, like they brought a hidden, instant peace to him. The memories came back to him as an avalanche all over again.

"I will solve this case." Was his answer. "I will find whoever did this to Bree." His words wete spoke full of confidence, as if that was the last thing he would do.

"That wasn't my question." She retorted knowing he avoided it on purpose.

"Take my advice for once, Alice." He grabbed his coat, finishing the coffee fastly. "Put yourself in first place and take care of only yourself, at least for once." He got up from the chair, and put money above the table, enough to pay for both their coffees. "I need to go."

And while other people chatted with joy, laughs, and love, Alice Mallory standed there, stuck at the same chair at the corner, watching his silhouette disappear as he crossed the door, that btought in a hushed freezing breeze. The coffee turned cold, the feelings blue, and her hairpin fell in slow motion on the floor.

No words could hurt more than from those she wanted to protect.

"I can't understand how you deal with him sometimes." A voice took over the place where Will once sat, it was bittersweet, covered with illusions and a flowery dress.

"There is a simple answer for that, Bree." Alice lifted the cup until her lips, her fingers delicately positioned above the porcelain, already embracing her madness. "I care about him."

▫️

The doors opened, the room was quiet, morbid, and the cold tonality of the walls didn't help to lighten up the atmosphere. Abigail Hobbs was at the same position, lied on the bed, while someone entered with pastel pink heels into the room.

"Hi." Alice Mallory said softly, while holding a small package in her hands. "I'm sorry, you don't even know me." She tried to don't frighten the girl. "My name is Alice Mallory...you are Abigail Hobbs, right?"

"Are you with that reporter?" Abigail asked still on the bed. She was pale, the lips a straight thin line, the neck covered with bandages.

"Um? Oh, no! No, no, I'm not a reporter, or a cop or anything." Alice shaked her head, she was more nervous to speak with that girl than she expected. "You must be tired to receive these people. Right?"

Alice came next to her on the bed, opening the small package, revealing a silk yellow to beige scarf inside it.

"I've heard about your injury...my sister once had a very bad scar on her knee and wantes to cover it forever during her teen years." Alice said, while making some space on the bed and sitting by her side. " So I think I might know a little about how you feel with right now...Thought this would help."

Abigail looked at the woman and her mysterious present, she didn't know who she was, a complete stranger, but yet so kind. Of course, she had suspicions about it.

"That's very kind, but I don't understand why you're here" Abigail said coldly.

Alice gave a weak smile in order to agree with the girl's statement. She rest the gift at a shelf and took a deep breath before explaining. "As I've said, my name is Alice. I am a food deliver, an artist, and a caring sister." She explained calmly. "I had a quite peaceful life until a tragedy hapened to someone I loved."

Abigail widened her eyes, scared of what she would do to her. Her eyes scanned towards the shelves, searching for something to defend herself.

"I know you didn't do it." Alice said firmly, so the girl could trust her. "And I don't want to harm you, or accuse your father of anything." She affirmed. "I just want you to answer one question."

Abigail took a deep breath. She could press a button to take her away from her room, use sonething to attack that woman before anything happened, or maybe attempt to escape. But something in Alice's figure seemed fragile and broken. And it comforted her.

"I can try." Abigail replied shortly.

Alice felt glad, and her heart speeded with the possibility of hope. She took her phone from her purse, and within a few seconds turned the device's screen towards the girl.

"Have you ever seen her?" Alice asked, showing the picture of a woman with brown hair and eyes, her smile was radiant and her appearence resembled very much Alice's, only younger.

But as much as Abigail Hobbs attempted to, she couldn't remember. She has never seen that woman, and from Alice's expression, felt relieved not to.

"No." She replied to her.

"Are you sure?" Alice insisted, almost as that sentence killed her inside. "Has your father ever seen her maybe?"

"No, I don't remember ever seeing her before." Abigail insisted.

Alice's breath escaped, half cut, disappointed, while putting the phone back into her purse, attempting to accept the bitter truth.

"Who is she?" Abigail questioned curious.

Alice looked back at the girl, her heart was filled with sadness, and seeing someone so young, so fragile, made her remind herself about Bree. She felt glad that Will managed to save her.

"My sister." She smiled with no strentgh. "Her name was Bree, and she was the most fashionable, funniest and kindest person in the whole world." Alice spoke full of love and grief, squinting her eyes.

With those words, Abigail could understand everything. "She died."

Alice nodded slowly, then pointed to the scarf above the shelf. "That was hers." She confessed. "Well, one of the many she had. She loved to shop." She chuckled softly. "I thought that it should belong to someone who would give it better use than to stay locked inside a drawer creating dust." The woman got up from the bed, adjusted the purse she was holding on her hand, and turned to Abigail Hobbs one last time. "I'm really sorry for coming in uninvited, I just..."she sighed. "I just needed to know."

Abigail could feel her sadness, anyone could from miles away. A woman so pretty, with such a happy appearence, suddenly crumbled into pieces in front of her. She felt slightly some empathy, pity for her. After all, Alice Mallory disn't want anything else besides an answer, besides taking a doubt inside her chest. She didn't accuse Abigail, she didn't seek revenge, she didn't force her into remembering or saying anything. She just accepted, and also gave her a gift with deep meaning and beauty.

She was one of the few people she felt glad to receive inside that hospital room.

"It's alright." Abigail replied. "I'm sorry about your sister....She looked like a good person."

Alice felt touched, and for a moment held herself not to break into tears, that girl had already passed through too much, she didn't deserve someone sobbing in front of her. "Thank you."

Abigail looked at the box with the scarf, giving a soft small smile towards Alice. "I like it." She replied simply. And that short answer meant everything. "It's very pretty. Thanks."

"I'm glad you did." Alice smiled, feeling her chest fill with a comfort only a child could give her. " I hope you recover soon, Abigail." The girl nodded briefly, not much, due to her position. "Thank you again, it was great to meet you." Alice continued "You're a true survivor. Keep holding on. And if you ever need help..." she said in a weak tone. "You can reach out for me."

Abigail could conclude one thing, that woman was kind. Not a kindness in exchange for anything, a true kindness that she has never seen before. Similar to Will and Dr.Lecter. But maybe, she thought, that kindness could also be the death of that woman.

"Thank you, Alice. It was nice to meet you too." Abigail said.

And finally, after those words, Alice Mallory gained strentgh to leave that room.

Once she walked past those doors, she tried to move on, to continue with her head high and not let the tears fall. But once again failed, as she could feel the water run hot through her flushed cheeks.

She hoped no one would notice, but a well dressed figure, sneaking into the shadows, with precisive and dilligent eyes that glowed while staring at her, did.

"Hannibal?" Alana Bloom awakened the figure once she came back with Will from the reception. "Let's go."

Alice had already left with her sadness, but his thoughts still were stuck into the conversation he listened between her and Abigail Hobbs. He wondered how someone could be that way, so sensitive, with so much empathy, so caring. He wasn't sure if she was gentle or stupid.

And sonething in that act, made his opinion about Alice Mallory change. He noticed something dear inside of her, something that glowed as a treasure.

Genuine naïveness leaded by her kindness. Sucu a pure and a noble soul that almost looked like an angel.

And, as history tells, darkness, wickness, always surround, attract themselves to lightning, sanctity

But those thoughts should be set aside for now.

They were taking Abigail Hobbs back to the Missouri. To the crime scene where her father was killed. Just as many other girls misteriously died.

▫️

It was in the middle of the night when Alice was awaken by an unexpected call. She didn't even look at the screen. "Hello?" She muttered, still half asleep.

"Alice, it's Will." As she heard his voice, Alice immediatly got up from the bed, the cold wind embraced her completely as the let the sheets fall abruptely. "It's about the copycat"

Her heart started to speed like never before, even her breath turned sharper. The whole world seemed to spin. "What happened? Did you find him? Will-"

"There's a suspect. He might have killed a girl called Marissa Schurr, Abigail Hobbs' friend. And tried to kill Abigail just now, but escaped. His design is very similar to the copycat's." He still didn't seem completely sure of that answer by the tone she heard.

Alice tried to calm down, she was about to panic, unsure if she felt hgad that they might have found him or scared to still have him wandering around killing innocent girls. "What is his name?"

"Promise me you won't go after him." Will knew her too well.

There was a pause in silence. She could feel Bree's illusion watching, instigating her, but Alice still attempted to calm her thoughts. "Are you sure that's him, Will?"

Will was the one in silence now. It just seemed off. Why would Nicholas Boyle kill his sister and now Marissa Schurr, couldn't be just some sick plan of his twisted mind, it didn't make any sense.

"That's what the exams concluded" Was his answer. "For now, this is our best version on the case and prime suspect."

Alice sighed, her worried breath made him tremble. For a monent Will Graham wished to be there, by her side, probably at the darkness of her room and embrace her in her arms, telling her that it would be alright, to waem her body with his. But probably it would be the opposite, Alice was always the one protecting him. That's why he needed to let her go.

"His name is Nicholas Boyle." He informed her, Alice stopped breathing for a moment. "His sister, Cassie Boyle, was the girl found in those horns, the firt victim found by the copycat, but killed after Bree." He informed.

"Do you think he killed his own sister?" She felt completely horrified.

"That is a theory..." he said, but couldn't understand the pieces together. They didn't fit. "He might have killed Marissa Schurr since she attacked him earlier and annoyed him, then attempted to kill Abigail Hobbs, hitting Alana and Hannibal."

"Hannibal?" She gasped. "Is he alright?"

He found her reaction a bit surprising, but still replied. "He's fine. Both him and Alana had minor injuries, Abigail managed to defend herself by scratching Boyle. She's just scared."

Alice calmed down once again. "Poor girl."

"Yeah." Will agreed. For a moment he wished he could just go back into the past and make sure none of that madness happened. But it was impossible now, and will Graham couldn't comfort Alice Mallory, once again. "I...I need to go, okay? If anything happens I'll call you, alright?"

"Will, wait." Alice said. He waited a bit more. "What about you? Are you okay?"

Whenever she asked that question it felt like she made a thousand cuts through his chest.

"I just want to go home."

Alice knew he wasn't alright, but he wouldn't speak much even if she forced him to. It was better to let him rest for now.

"Alright." She spoke softly "thank you, for everything." He continued in silence. "Please take care of yourself."

"You too."

And with those last whispery words, he hung up. Alice Mallory rest her head on the pillow, but the whole night her thoughts spinned around Nicholas Boyle.

If those theories were right, that nightmare would end soon. If they were wrong, Will probably knew that wasn't the right path to follow, she could feel that in his voice.

For now, she would let destiny handle it, but she promised that one day she would find the responsible for Bree's death.

And make him pay.