IN HANNIBAL'S TEMPORARY DINING ROOM

Mary Watson broke in through the front door, dressed entirely in black. Her blond hair was tucked neatly under her cap, and she was prepared for battle in her current ensemble. Just in the past several hours, she had caused her life to take a dramatic turn. Now it was just a matter of securing that this would not be a turn for the worse.

Hannibal sat at his dinner table alone as he heard the door fly open and the sound of her light footsteps coming towards him. He didn't turn around or say anything. Instead he cut off another piece of his meal and placed it into his mouth as his lips turned up.

Clair de la lune. He could smell it from the hallway. There was only one woman he knew who wore that perfume and would be willing to break into his house. He waited patiently for her to locate him in the dining room. It was past the normal dinner time, but he wasn't exactly a normal man.

Mary stormed straight into the dining room, raising a gun up to aim towards Hannibal's head. Her face was completely blank, devoid of emotion as if it had never existing in her heart to begin with. She said absolutely nothing, but her message was clear.

"Hello...Mary, is it now? Mrs. Mary Watson," Hannibal said, his lips curling into a smile.

Mary wasn't going to have any of this, no. He was mocking her, whether he was aware of it or not. At the end of the day, it didn't matter if he knew. The fact was that we was doing it, and that was enough to make her feel furious.

"Enough with the small talk, Hannibal," she hissed. "You need to listen to me if you put any sort of value on your life. From what I know, you do. I remember how your life was always far more precious than anyone else's. Well, keep that in mind tonight."

"You can drop the accent for me, you know," Hannibal said. "There's no use putting on a show."

"It's not a show anymore," Mary sighed. Although she rolled her eyes and shook her head, her arm still stuck out in a stiff line with the gun at the end. "I've actually developed this accent now, after living here long enough. It's not as if it matters, anyways."

"Fascinating," Hannibal said. "You haven't lived here that long, unless my memory decieves me..."

"I just killed a man tonight, a man that trusted me and considered me his friend. As a man who has a few friends, it's quite a predicament. But it's all because of your brother, Hannibal, and everything he has on me - and everything you have on me as well."

"What, exactly, do you mean?" Hannibal asked. "I don't wish to partake in my older brother's obsession with blackmail."

"It doesn't matter if you blackmail me or not," Mary said, calmly holding the gun out towards his head. Her arm didn't shake, her fingers didn't fidget. She was practically a killing machine at the moment. "All that matters is, you have the information that could very well ruin my life, and you also know people who could spread it places."

"I wouldn't dare," Hannibal said. "You know me better than that, Mary."

"I'm not so sure," Mary said.

"Then what, precisely, do you wish to get out of this?" Hannibal asked, clearing his throat.

"Here's how I wish this to go," Mary began, starting to lower her gun. "You keep my secrets safe, and you keep your life as well. You let my secrets go, and then you're as good as dead."

"I see," Hannibal replied, giving a slight nod of his head. He should've been expecting something like this. The real surprise was that it hadn't come sooner, really. Mary was one of the best at keeping secrets out of everyone he knew, and this was most likely one of the main reasons why. She was willing to rid herself of those who wouldn'tbe keeping her secrets for her.

Hannibal couldn't help but wonder if this was why she had already killed someone that same night. It was up to him to investiage, after all.

"I'm curious, Mary," Hannibal began. "Who, precisely, did you kill tonight, and why?"

"Wouldn't you want to know," Mary grumbled.

"I'm just simply curious," Hannibal replied.

"Sherlock Holmes," she said, crossing her arms. "My husband's best friend. He knows too much now, same as you. But him...I couldn't let him go on with that information. No, he would tell John. If anyone tells John, well..."

"Hm," Hannibal simply said.

"You liked him, didn't you?" she asked. "I did, too. But he came too close, ignored what I said - I was doing him a favor. Things would have been much worse if he kept going."

"Come and have dinner with me," Hannibal suggested, deciding to change the subject. "Perhaps it can help to take your mind off of things."

"Depends on what you're having," Mary replied. "I'm not sure if I want to give you any more leverage over me than you already have."

"You're the one brandishing a gun," Hannibal said, calm as ever. "If anyone has leverage, it must be you."

"I've watched you kill with your bare hands," Mary sighed. "Just because I'm a good shot doesn't mean I have the upper hand."

"If that's how you wish to see the situation," said Hannibal. "But I believe that only one with the true upper hand is Charles. I can only assume he's watching right now, listening to our every word..."

"He's unconscious," Mary stated, her eyes glinting with anger. "I would know."

"Then I can only guess that you must have been the one to put him that way."

"I just hope you're not angry with me. I know how much you care for your brother."

"Sarcasm is not a very attractive trait, Mary."

"I don't think attractiveness is what we're talking about," Mary replied. "We were speaking of your brother Charles, which is really rather important for what we're speaking about."

"I'd rather not speak of Charles. I find it makes me lose my appetite."

"You're not going to be giving up on this dinner any time soon, are you?"

"No, I am not. I would very much enjoy having you with me at the dinner table as well, Mary."

"Tell me what you're having for dinner, and then I'll decide if it's to my liking," Mary said, a growl in her voice.

"Well, I believe you can guess," Hannibal replied. "Perhaps you are not as used to eating the specific meat at this point in time, but I doubt you'll have any problems."

Mary's eyes fluttered shut at this point. While this was typically a somewhat dangerous action to do with a serial killer across the table, she somehow knew Hannibal wouldn't harm her. She might hurt him, yes, but he wouldn't do anything to her.

Yet.

Unlike most people, Hannibal saw Mary as an equal of sorts. He was aware what she was capable of, as he had seen it in person several times over. It was something he had gotten used to, at least at that point in time.

She heaved out a sigh and sat down in a seat across from Hannibal. It was a strange group, a man dressed up in a suit and a woman in all black with a gun in her hand, ready to be fired at any moment.

"You know, it's somewhat rude for you to eat with one hand and point a gun at me with the other."

"Oh, you would think that."

"Yes, I would."

"I'm only worried if you're planning to act on my breach of manners," Mary sighed, avoiding his eyes. "I don't trust you the way I once did."

"I'm sorry that you must feel that way," Hannibal said, not sounding particularly sorry at all. "But I have not forgotten the times when you did trust me. Even with your gun's barrel being aimed towards my heart, I still believe that you remember as well."

"Are you trying to tell me that you still trust me?" Mary asked.

"Precisely."

"Well, I must say I'm flattered, but in reality there is only one man who's trust really matters to me. This is what this is all riding on."

"One man..." Hannibal said, mostly thinking out loud. In his mind, there was only one person who this "one man" could be. Even if Mary Morstan was little more than a cover story, there was a real depth and truth within Mary Watson.

"What, exactly, do you want?" asked Hannibal, trying to bring the point home.

"You tell John nothing," Mary answered. "If he comes to you and asks you anything, you tell him nothing. He can't know. He has to be blind to the truth. Everything I have done tonight is to protect him - prevent him from knowing my past. You are a threat to that, which is why I am here."

"I am disappointed to find that you no longer have trust in my abilities to keep your secrets."

"We made such a wonderful team back in the day, but now things have changed. It's not just my name that's been altered."

"I've noticed...but perhaps not that much has changed. Think about it, Mary. You can look into my eyes and see that I am still the same man you left behind several years ago."

"And I'm most certainly not the same woman," Mary said. "I went years without any incidents, but then your brother came along and messed all of that up. I just hope tonight doesn't end leading to many other issues..."

In Mary's eye was a dull gleam, one that Hannibal recognised partially because he had seen it in his own eyes. It was the shine of someone who had just killed and someone who didn't feel guilt over it. Of course, he didn't feel as threatened by it because he knew it so well. He knew her. He knew killing. He understood in a way that no other therapist possibly could.

Hannibal had experienced much within his line of work, gaining enough knowledge in order to keep him on a level far above everyone else. He tended to reveal this knowledge only when necessary - not only could he impress people, but he could prevent them from prying anything else out of him. This method tended to work with just about everyone.

No, it was Hannibal's job to pry into other people's lives. That was what they paid him to do, after all. He was supposed to work out their behavior, their thoughts, their feelings, their emotions, their urges. Every time he did, he would learn more about human weaknesses. Although he hated to be like his brother in such a way, he did keep a record of many of them.

Mary had weaknesses of her own, of course, beginning with the fact that her name was not truly Mary. But she had entrusted him, at least for the moment, to keep that down low. Since she responded to this new name, he had decided to use it out of pure courtesy. He was keeping up his end of that for sure, even though Mary ended up being fairly rude.

But he couldn't just ignore the gleam in her eyes that had sparked his thoughts to begin spinning in the first place. She had mentioned that she had murdered, and letting that go without trying to get any information would go against everything he had been working for.

"Mary, try to be sensible about what you're doing here," Hannibal said. "I know you are beyond capable of doing so. Please heed my words." Although he tried not to be too vocal about it, he did have a fear that she would pull the trigger and end his life.

"I'm being perfectly sensible."

"You said you killed Sherlock Holmes," Hannibal said.

"I shot him in the chest," Mary replied. "I can do the same for you, or if you prefer I could aim for your head. Either one'll do."

"I can't help but think that killing him was rather harsh."

"You don't understand the circumstances."

"I understand what it's like to be in a dire situation with someone you care about."

"Not like this."

"There is much you don't know about me," Hannibal said.

Mary looked down at her gun, heaving a sigh. She didn't understand how she wasn't being completely clear that she didn't trust him, and how those sorts of comments hardly made her trust him any more. She didn't want to go ahead and explain it fully - he was intelligent, he should've been able to figureit out himself.

A part of Mary wondered if Hannibal had changed from when she had known him. She didn't mean that he had gotten new patients or gained new wrinkles, nor killed new victims, for that matter. No, in the years that she had been gone he might have lost the spark that she had grown to see within him.

There was certainly a reason she had left him behind, and it had nothing to do with Hannibal himself. Too many people were on her tracks, and she needed to escape it all. The easiest way to do that was fleeing, as pitiful as it sounded to her.

Mary fled from everything - her job, her life, even her name and history. After arriving across the pond, it was just a matter of building up a new persona to hide everything else. But her old self wasn't forgotten - Hannibal's older brother had been keeping close records of it all. Charles Augustus Magnussen knew everything, and he refused to let her forget it.

If she hadn't been connected to Hannibal to begin with, then Magnussen would have had a much more difficult time getting information on her. It was impossible for Mary to deny that a part of her blamed Hannibal for her predicament. However, she was going to let him go for now. After all, she needed to finish dinner without a corpse on the table ruining her appetite.

She ignored any tinges of guilt that might have entered her. Mary had learned to control those long ago, after her first several kills. Of course, Sherlock Holmes was somewhat of a special case, but Hannibal was as well. Although, she had not decided what she wanted to do in the end to him - there were too many thoughts conflicting in her mind.

Hannibal could see that she was having a moment of inner turmoil. But he wasn't planning on ignoring it - no, he was going to give Mary an offer in an attempt to ease her burden and potentially her temper.

"If anything ever goes ill in your life, just remember I have an opening for you to become my secretary once again."

"I don't think I'll be taking up a job as an assassin ever again."

"Maybe the job wouldn't require any assassination this time around," Hannibal replied. "It is called being a secretary, after all."

"Or maybe I've got more keeping me here than you're aware of," Mary said, her eyes glinting dangerously.

"If you're talking about your child, then I already know. I knew ever since you walked into my dinner party, but I decided not to bring it up."

Mary took a deep inhalation - she had forgotten how Hannibal always used his sense of smell to figure out things the same way that Sherlock would use his deductions. Her memory was usually superb - how she let this important detail slip was beyond her.

"Maybe that's the only reason why I'm still alive now," she said, tapping her fingers on the gun just to reaffirm that she indeed had a weapon. Her finger wasn't on the trigger yet, but it was close. Oh, she would not hesitate if the time came. "You would kill me if it weren't for the fact you'd be murdering a child as well, and that might be considered...well...rude."

"Trying to use my own methods against me, I see," Hannibal said, reaching over to shift around several plates so that he could get himself some more food.

"You do respond better to it," Mary replied. "I mean, you wouldn't be using them as your methods if they weren't effective to begin with."

"You do have a point there, Mary," Hannibal said. For a moment, their conversation dissolved into complete silence. He continued to eat, trying to avoid looking up at her as much as possible. She had a plate of food in front of her, but it went completely untouched. She wasn't sure what - or who - she would've been feasting on. Besides, she was losing her appetite overall.

Try as he might, Hannibal could not ignore the feeling of a gun being point straight over towards himself. He had been tormented by his older brother constantly making sure to keep an eye on him. Then, for the first time, Charles' relentless gaze had gone away. Then Mary had showed up at his home and pointed a gun towards him.

That same gun barrel was pointed straight towards his head as it had been this entire time. It was making proper communicating very difficult, which wasn't something Hannibal could stand for. He had already told her how rude it was, but she hadn't responded in the way he had wanted.

"Mary, put the gun down."

"I don't trust you."

"I haven't moved at all, Mary."

"Hannibal, I do not trust you. There is no other way for me to put it."

"You did trust me."

"That's true," Mary said. For seemingly the first time in her entire time in Hannibal's temporary home, she experienced an emotion other than anger. Sadness glinted in her eyes as she was unable to keep the hint of tears away. There was still a part of her that longed for those days.

Mary's time with Hannibal had been far from worry free, that was for sure, but it certainly had freedom of other forms. The two had been quite a pair, and no one around had suspected a thing they were doing. There was certainly something invigorating from committing a crime right under someone's nose and have them be absolutely clueless about the culprit.

Of course, she was from a very different background than Hannibal. He had been a surgeon. She had been in the CIA. He had decided to become a psychiatrist. She had decided to go freelance. But the universe ended up bringing them together, and she ended up working as his secretary. No one ever noticed her - she was effectively invisible.

But she had been able to use that invisibility as a shield. They worked together day and night, even though their day jobs were far different from what they did when the sun went down. Never was their relationship anything romantic, but it was certainly strong. One time, Hannibal had practically been Mary's brother.

The decision to leave it all behind had been one of the most difficult in her life. If she hadn't been forced to make it, she almost definitely would have stayed behind and acted as his shadow. There was so much more they could have accomplished together, and both of them were fully aware of this fact.

"Mary, do you miss it?" Hannibal asked. "I don't mean to pry, but I do wish to know."

"Then maybe you should try not prying, Hannibal."

"I apologise, Mary."

"You're forgiven. For that." The words that didn't depart from Mary's lips were the ones that said that yes, she did miss it. Part of her would've loved to just run away and escape back to America and ditch the cover she had built up for herself. But, like she had said, there was so much keeping her still.

"We have met a stalemate, Mary. Neither one of us is willing to make a move. You could easily leave if you so wished. What is keeping you here?"

"You haven't given me your word on anything yet," Mary said, gritting her teeth. "You forget the very reason why I came here to begin with."

"Which is?" Hannibal asked.

"Oh, don't play dumb."

"Mary, I don't wish to harm you or anyone else in your family. While this conversation has been rather confrontational, I give you my word that I will keep your secrets safe as well as honour your life."

"Does this word have an expiration date?" Mary asked. "I'm not allowing you to slip any details past me, Hannibal."

"We will see how the circumstances play out, Mary," he replied. "I find it difficult to make guarantees that I cannot guarantee."

Mary raised her gun up to his head, not letting even the slightest quiver ruin her aim. He didn't flinch - in fact, he hardly even moved to begin with. But it was still very clear that he was fully aware of the gun being there.

"I think I can guarantee that you won't survive a bullet piercing your mind."

"Fine," Hannibal said. "But I'm not making any sort of claims about my older brother. I have no control over him whatsoever."

A/N So it looks like Mary is more involved with Hannibal than she'd like to admit. And she's freaking dangerous. I must admit, psychopathic-ish Mary is quite fun to write. Then there's a whole backstory between her and Hannibal and that connects to Charles Augustus Magnussen - so yeah. I love this story more than I should...do you? I know there's plenty of you reading, apparently. Show me! Please.