Alcuin woke feeling a little strange, but then he realized that he must have climbed into Hannibal's bed in the middle of the night again. A bit embarrassed, he scooted away from Hannibal's sleeping form before climbing out of the covers. He pushed his hair out of his eyes. It was getting a little too long again, enough so that people would be ( Read more... )

Alcuin knew that he shouldn't still be investigating on his own. And he wasn't even actively doing it, not really, not after what happened with Pascal. But sometimes something would just occur to him, and it seemed too small, or perhaps too incriminating, for him to want to pick up the phone and call the FBI ( Read more... )

Freddie Lyons had, good as his word, had copies of the photographs sent to Alcuin. Though when they arrived he just stared at the unopened envelope for a moment before picking up his phone and dialing.

He waited for Hannibal to answer and then said, "I'm so sorry, I know it's the middle of the day, and it's really not urgent, just... I could use ( Read more... )

Alcuin tried not to ask too frequently, but there was no denying that he still slept worlds better in Hannibal's bed than alone in his own. He was respectful and undemanding, and did not touch before being touched - even after nightmares he wouldn't seek being held until Hannibal reached for him ( Read more... )

Alcuin couldn't deny that he felt some anxiety upon getting a phone call from Agent Hotchner, asking if he would come to the FBI offices.

They found Pascal's body. But no, that couldn't be right. They couldn't know what Alcuin had done. If they did, they wouldn't be asking him politely to go somewhere. They'd be showing up at his home with ( Read more... )

It was late into the evening, and Alcuin and Hannibal were walking to Hannibal's home from a restaurant where they'd had a late meal and then overstayed their welcome drinking coffee and talking. It had been a nice way to spend the evening and Alcuin was in good spirits, walking close to Hannibal with his hands in his pockets. They were on a ( Read more... )

When Alcuin had called Hannibal, all he'd managed to get out was a barely coherent address, a hotel and a room number, and "please come" and "help me" and "I don't know what to do" in a jumble ( Read more... )

The first day of classes for Alcuin for the most part went smoothly. There were hiccups, but nothing that upset him too badly, and he when he made his way to Hannibal's home that evening his demeanor was pleasant and calm. Instead of wine, this time he'd brought dessert - a small basket of French pastries, made by a small bakery in the less-than- ( Read more... )

When Agent Hotchner told Alcuin that one of the names on his list was missing, having not been to his place of business for several days, Alcuin had hoped fervently that it was not Anthony Petrovich. It was. And though he had hidden it well, this had sent Alcuin into a tailspin of panic. He wasn't even entirely sure what he was afraid of, just ( Read more... )

Grateful that enough time had passed that the reporters seem to have entirely forgotten about him, Alcuin was out in Kin, running some errands after a visit to his attorney. (He had begun, finally, to think of the man as his attorney now rather than Anafiel's ( Read more... )