"IT IS A MESS"

"It's not a mess." Her fingers scanned down the floor, searching for the small colored puzzle pieces displayed before her. "It might look like it, but that doesn't mean it can't become something."

"A bigger mess"

She sighed, rolling her doll eyes as the TV continued to broadcast in the background. Outside, it was a like any other, silent, cold, and the chilly air in her veins only made her more determined to reach her goal.

"It's a matter of perspective." Teresa leaned a bit down, as she grabbed a small piece with two spaces on its' sides, a corner, she concluded. "Everything is a matter of perspective." She found the perfect pair for it, creating some sort of mountain in the horizon. "See?"

The dark skinned woman across her chrotled, her wrinkles on the corner of her lips showed little sign of aging, but Aunt Delilah was still just as beautiful as any modern supermodel nowadays. "You overthink just like your mother used to." She teased, taking the remote control and increasing the volume of the TV.

"I like to say that I'm just attentive to details" she corrected, overhearing the TV talk about some missing girls. "What's all that fuzz about?"

"Eight girls taken from their campuses in Minnesota in the past 8 months." Delilah spoke trying to hide her horror at the images, covering her mouth a little with her hands. "What kind of monster would do this?"

"You just said the word..." Teresa whispered as she started to build the bigger picture while hearing the deaths across the buzzing screen "...a monster."

▫️

"What's with the lack of whiskey?"

"Sorry, all we got for today."

She rolled her doll eyes. "Fine, just fill me in with tequila then." She sighed.

Baltimore, nighttime, bar next to her new workplace she'd start tomorrow. It looked more like a countey club than an average one. Her vision scanned the people, tired workers trying to get rid of the stress on their shoulders.

The low lights gave evidence to the smoking outside and frustrated dance of some forbidden affair of middle aged men on the dance floor. In the meantime, her fingertips played with the reliquary around her neck, the golden already snudged and worn out by the weather, sweat and years.

It was hard for Teresa to admit she was nervous, it was hard to tell her aunt that beginning in that new era was much more than just a job for her, it was hard for her to explain the real motives that led her until that moment. So she'd simply not tell, instead, she'd let all her frustrations drown in the whiskey- actually, tequila this time.

She was taken out of her thoughts when the smell of woods entered her lungs. It had some scent of pine, roustic fireplace and a small hint of washes dogs in a rainy day. Her eyes lingered at the dishelved man by her side. His face was shaped as a greek god's, with a sprinkled beard across the massive diamond shapes features and the curly hair strands that fell in front of his olive eyes.

But his silhoutte wasn't worth the characteristics, it was rather shy, curled up, as a small scared enemy against fire "They're out of whiskey." She said before he opened his mouth, finally making the stranger face her with a rather amused and bothered expression. "Excuse me" she called the bartender "another dose of tequila for my friend here, please."

She could feel the olive eyes against her bare shoulders, counting down the freckles on her neck and lower, almost memorizing and criticizing each one of them. "Thanks." Was all the stranger mumbled in return, not showing any sign of grattitude whatsoever.

Teresa simply nodded in return, trying not to make a big deal out of it and shaking away the need to smell that aftershave that invaded her veins a little closer. But that man, that man looked like a mess. The hottest mess she has ever seen.

The way he swallowed down the burning liquid throughs his throat, the way his eyes squinted with a hidden pain of her own.

The veins shown as he wrapped his hands around the cold glass...

"Not used to something stronger?" She asked as she noticed the struggle he had to drink.

The man side-eyed her with lack of interest. He was rather closed off, and the sound of the music bothered his ears. "Not used to an audience while I'm drinking." He replied with his hoarse low voice instead.

"Ouch" She smirked not letting the harsh reply get into her head. Not the easy type, that' just hooked her even further. "Not talktive much, are you?" She teased and received only silence in return. " 'Kay, message received." She nodded and gulped her drink at once, unaware of the sudden surprise she caused him by that attitude.

Good tolerance, that was a gift Teresa gained from her mother, and it got just easier and easier to take one shot after another, unlike the man on thr counter by her side, who rubbed his tired eyes and tried to focus on the present. His jaw clenched to the sounds of the club, the hands tighter to the glass, almost as if he was losing it.

"Whats their name?" She suddenly shifted his senses to her.

"Excuse me?" He asked confused.

She pointed to his plaid shirt. "Your dog's." Will looked down at himself, noticing some hair dog spread across his chest area, almost unoticeable. "I mean, it's not a cat's, cats' hair tend to be shorter. Yours is longer, stiff, solid, more like frizzy looking, exactly like a dog's." She explained, making the stranger widen his eyes a bit. "It's kind of humid too, so I assume you gave them a bath, considered you had to squat and wash them, gathering the fur on your chest...but that's just my assumption."

The man blinked a bit amused, forming a small gao between his lips, suddenly drifting away fron the noise of the room and the mysteries of his mind. He swallowed dry and nodded "Winston." Was his answer. She nodded, finishing her sixth glass that evening. "May I ask how-"

"Had a dog when I was 13." She replied. "Golden retriever, used to get fur everywhere." She smiled with a bit nostalgia then looked back at the stranger. "And you also smell like dog shampoo."

This time, for the first time that evening, she spot a short chuckle from the stranger, and his smile was simply breathtaking. "These things are hard to get rid of." He shrugged his shoulders, allowing his eyes to longer through her face a little more than 3 seconds now. "What happened to the golden retriever?" He now asked, and she looked back into the deep green of his eyes. "No dog hair on your clothes, and you spoke of it in the past tense."

She almost smiled at his analysis. "Lassie died in a car accident 5 years ago." His smile dropped a bit, and he nodded almost in a silebt comfort. "Some crazy jerk ran over the red light when she escaped from my leash and..." She shook her head, watching it all happen again.

The man slightly empathized with her pain. "He should've gotten runned over instead." The dark joke made her chortle, and for his own surprise, he caught himself smiling over hers. "I'm sure she was a good dog"

"She was the funniest." She smiled softly. "And Winston?"

The man smiled back. "He's new. Found him wandering around and just brought him home. He was...covered in mud so I had to wash him."

"What was your girlfriend's reaction to a new dog home?" She chuckled.

Her words made him lift up his eyebrows curious. "Oh...uhm..no, it's just me and the dogs, so..." He cleared his throat a bit.

Of course she knew he didn't have a girlfriend. Surely if that man had a girlfriend, she wouldn't let him wander stressed in a club at this late night hour, vulnerable to the claws of someone like Teresa herself. No, she just wanted the green light sign spoken through his lips.

"Sorry, just...assumed. So, single father" She waved her hand, almost as if she could take a way physically the conversation subject with her hands.

The man didn't seem surprised though, it was almost like he knew what she was trying to do...and he didn't stop her. No, he faced the wooden counter in front of him for a few seconds, and then muttered. "And you?" He called. "No dogs since Lassie? Maybe with a father to them this time."

Held the smile, kept her cool, he was playing along with it, that was going smooth and she liked it. "No dogs, no father." She replied with an easy soft laugh, making fun of the topic.

There were a few more shots in silence while the club played annoying songs for any of them to manifest yet. There was this amazing mstery surrounding them, both strangers without names and the only common ground between them was that exact moment and the taste of tequila in their mouths. Sounded like her ideal type sunday night.

"That was like...the 8th?" He smirked at her glasses that came back and fourth filled and empty over and over again.

"The 10th." She corrected and the two chuckled a bit. "And yours?"

"The 3rd." The laughs overcame again. "Got a way to go home?"

"I've always got my favorite taxi driver's number on my contact list in nights like this." She showed him a small card between her fingers, the flashy letters shining within the darkness. "What about you, sober boy?" She mocked, noticing the red from drunkeness spread across his cheek, definetly not used to tha life, but hey, she was getting drowsy too now. "Wanna share a taxi?"

He looked into her dark brown eyes for a second, letting his mind drift away for a bit. "To where?"

She grabbed her purse discretely, letting her lashes add a delicate touch to her next sentence "Well, that's up to you. Where do you want to go?" And his smirk was just the exact effect she was hoping for.

▫️

There were some evidence of sun lightning across the curtains when he opened his eyes and took in the image of her skin shimmering down against the sheets. There was such warmth in her touch that eas almost irresistible, and the heat only increased when he reminded himself of the flashes from the last night.

He barely knew her name, but remembered exactly them both stumbling into a taxi and driving off to her apartment, which she had to repeat three times for the driver to hear since the two of them couldn't stop laughing. The reason? Some bad fishing joke he said.

He remembered being dragged to the elevator, and smudging the lipstick off her face as if he wanted to get rid of it for ages now. Remembered the soft sound of the elevator finally reaching the correct floor and they running through the aisles drunk until she tried to open the door, letting his lips bush and caress the smooth skin across her nape.

Now he looked across the unfamiliar room he barely paid attention to hours earlier. Where did his clothes head off to and why could he still feel her scratches down his back? She was wild, they both were. And honestly, he was guilty to say he enjoyed it.

Truth be told, while he searched for his clothes, he tried to take in the fact that he just had sex with a stranger without thinking twice about it, something that he had never even dreamed of doing.

He hoped she wouldn't wake up, God knows his introverted self would never allow him to say the correct words and instantly break her heart. And he wouldn't be able to stay for pancakes either, not that it would be bad, but he had work. His life was his work.

And the boxers fit in again, the jeans, the shirt with dog hair (now with a lost button), all of it back into its' place, except the hair, which was way more fluffy and messy than the night before. His green eyes wandered back to the woman, should he wake her up? Maybe say something?

A note, that'll do. What to say without sounding like a jerk? "Best orgasm of my life" didn't sound like the best way to go, or "Wish I could stay more" would appear too emotional. God, he hated casual fuck culture so badly.

He wrote it simply on a notebook by her desk and quickly put his shoes back on. With a single last glimpse of the goddess he had the honor to spend the night with, Will Graham brushed away any wishes to stay, and left.

Leaving only a "last night was fun, had a great time, thanks" behind.

▫️

Hannibal Lecter as his new psychiatrist was a new condition to work back in the field, and of course Agent Will Graham didn't take the news so pleasantly. He hated to have someone looking through his head, and worse, to evaluate it.

Small and slow steps to get in the team and adapte himself to that life again, Will thought that maybe he could control it. But truth be told, the murders crossed his mind every now and then, unable to stop.

Only the alcohol and a sleepless night with a dazzling woman made him distract from the work scars recently, but now the effect of euphoria was over, two hours later, and he had been called to a new crime scene, much more ruthless than the previous ones he had visited before.

An impaled girl displayed to her own misery in Hibbing, Minesotta, appearently a new victim of the current cannibal on the loose, also responsbile for the latest Elise Nicholds murder.

The field was yellow as the sun, and the scene could've appeared quite joyful if not for the brutal murder before the FBI's eyes, now surrounded by insects prompt to gloat into their feast.

"Stag head was reported stolen last night, about a mile from here." Jack Crawford said as his team tried to get rid of the crows surroundinh the crime scene.

"Just the head?" Will Graham said, as he had already started to feel the bloody maniac impulses running through his veins.

"Minneapolis Homicide's already made a statement. They're calling him the Minnesota Shrike."

"Like the bird?" Graham raised a eyebrow.

"Shrike's a perching bird." A distinct voice interrupted the scene, the soft sound of boots across the grass made his thoughts stop, as the team turned their heads. "Impales mice and lizards on thorny branches and barbed wire. Rips their organs right out of their bodies, puts them in a little birdie pantry, and eats them later."

His eyes finally tooo glimpse of the voice's owner, and his jaw almost dropped instantky, maybe it did, he couldn't have known. There was, in front of him, the woman from last night. And in front of her chest, a large FBI badge just as the one he wore at his waist.

"Agent Brooks" Jack Crawford promptly shook her hand, she was pretty strong. "Glad to have you in the team, now show me what you've got."

Will was still paralyzed, and worse, she didn't even seem affected by his presence, almost like they didn't know each other at all.

Teresa Brooks got closer to the body, watching with a neutral expression the bloodmarks and the horrifyinh conclusion of the murder. "This is an arrogant killer." She spoke with much more seriousness than last night. "A show off." She pointed to the body. "She's up to the sky, in some sort of plataform used with these horns, it's roustic yet planned, she wanted her to be found this way, at her own mercy"

Jack then turned to Will, who even shocked still paied attention to her words. "What do you think, Will?" The older one asked. "What happened to his love?"

"Whoever tucked Elise Nichols into bed didn't paint this picture." Will concluded, comparing the scenes mentally in her head.

Brooks stood by Brian's side, watching as br analyzed a sample of her DNA. "Lungs cut out while she was alive. He had a feast." Her tone expressed utter disgust and anger.

Will clenched his jaw, still wondering what the hell she was doing there and why Jack asked her opinion in his job. "Our cannibal loves women. He doesn't want to destroy them." He put the killer's lenses above his own "He wants to consume them, to keep some part of them inside. This girl's killer thought that she was a pig."

"A copycat" Brooks agreed, crossing her arms, as Will silently nodded. "Elise Nichols murder looked for someone similar to the one he chases for, maybe someone he's close. According to their ages, maybe young, a daughter perphaps, hence he doesn't look for carnal conjuction." She explained. "Some creep looking for a clone of his daughter because of what? Abandonment?"

Will was slightly surprised by her guess, and Jack, follwing his reaction, could sense that both agents agreed in those terms.

"What about the copycat?" Crawford questioned now.

Will already struggled to remain in that same position, feeling the killer's mosaic prisn cover his own essence. "You know, an intelligent psychopath, particularly a sadist, is very hard to catch. There's no traceable motive, there'll be no patterns. He may never kill this way again." He replied a bit more roughly. "Have Dr. Lecter draw up a psychological profile. You seemed very impressed with his opinion." He snalped back and walked away.

▫️

"What was that?" Crawford asked as the curly haired man entered his office, eyes moving through the room with intensity.

"What was what?" Graham didn't even bother sitting down, as he watched his superior purse his lips in annoyance.

Jack's office was pretty neat, organized, the maid's job, not his of course. And there was always a warm cup of coffee waiting for him whenever he returned from a crime scene, he'd lie if he said he didn't like the priviledges of being the major responsible for his unit.

"Your behavior at the crime scene." Jack muttered. "Those faces, the responses. Bringing Dr.Lecter's name just because you were irritated."

"Well, I am irrittated since you want someone inside my head." He complained. "And what's with that woman?"

"What woman?"

"Did you send her to spy on me?"

Jack looked at him for a while, trying to unferstand what he meant. "You mean Agent Teresa Brooks? Do you know her?"

"What's her function here? She simply appears and starts giving her opinion on a crime scene? Is she a profiler or something?"

The soft knocks on the door interrupted the conversation, as Jack allowed the person in, cutting off the tension and increasing it.

"Sorry to interrupt, Agent Crawford, I thought you were alone." Teresa spoke as she entered, her gaze lingered at Will for a mere second. "I can return another time-"

"No, it's actually perfect timing." The superior interrupted, then gestured to Will. "Agent Brooks, this is Will Graham, our criminal profiler. Will, this is Teresa Brooks, transferred Special Agent from Texas. Miss Brooks will also help us with the cases from now on."

"A special agent?" Will looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

"What's the matter, Mr.Graham?" She crossed her arms, and her tone made him shiver. "Doubting my qualifications to lead the team?"

"I'm just...noticing you might be too young for it. This isn't like your previous unit, things can get ugly, and no one here wants to play the baby sitter"

A low chuckle escaped her throat as her eyes narrowed in disdain back to him. "Oh don't worry Mr.Graham, my age won't be a problem. You see, you might be surprised about what a young woman like me can do." Her eyes lingered up and down his body, making glimpses of the night wash his brain as waves, making Will swallow dry. "I just passed by to deliver some files from Katz." She put the files on Jack's desk, abd without altering her expression, she only muttered "Please excuse me." And left the room.

Once the door was closed, Jack turned to his star agent. "I see you're already making lots of friends." His sarcastic tone got into Graham's nerves.

"Told you I'm not one to socialize." He hissed and also decided to escape that office.

▫️

"Hey" he called but her stps didn't move, they ignored them, while Will Graham remained there, like a ghost shadow in the parking lots after work day. "Hey!" His grip made her turn around, and it felt strange to touch her skin again after the amount of contact he had before. "Did you just ignore me?"

"Can you back off?" She complained and he instantly took a step back.

"So, you're gonna tell me the truth or conitnue playing games?" He pursed his lips, almost as an angry little cat. "Are you spying on me for Jack or-"

"Not everything's about you, you know?" She crossed her arms, as Will Graham tried not to glance over those plumped lips again. "Look, I don't give a damn about who you are, but don't let what happened get in the job, 'kay? Be professional." She snapped.

"I am professional." He hissed, leaning a bit closer. "What's not professional is the coincidence that you slept with me last night and suddenly you turned into my coworker."

"If I wanted to fuck my way up to the top I wouldn't have screw you." The sweetness he expected fof her to have seemed to deterioriate right in front of his eyes. "It's Will, right? Look Will, as you said the night was fun, great time, yeah, whatever. But when it comes to my job, I don't want some man telling me what to do, or asking me how I got here. I'm just as worthy as you are to be here." She looked straight into his eyss as if he was just another person blocking her spotlight. "So I suggest you to step off your Regina George attitude and mind your own fucking bussiness."

There was shock, very much shock to be honeat, and there was annoyance in his eyes. That's what you get from opening up a little, he thought. And perhaps he could sense his wrongness in it, after all, his paranoia got to someone who's not even part of it, but now shit already reached the fan.

Teresa Brooks, a.k.a the sexy woman he met the night before, now despised him, and when he watched her leave the dark parking lot in her car, he realized once again:

He was alone.

▫️

The office was a bit crowded and agitated that morning, and while he walked through the hallways he almost bumped into Jimmy. "Oh, sorry, Will." He mumbled back in response, and Graham only nodded in return.

He watched as the lab coated man reunited with the others, and he surprised himself to watch his team gathered around, being leaded by Brooks. She had just arrived and now acted like she owned the place.

And people didn't seem to mind her, actually, from his point of view, he could swear he saw Brian and Beverly laugh at one of her jokes.

If he thought things couldn't get worse, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Hello, Will." Hannibal Lecter greeted him with a smile.

That was a nightmare.

"What are you doing here?" He instinctively asked in return.

"Jack said I'll join you and Agent Brooks today." The doctor said with a serene and pleased tone, almost like a younger child whose mother asked the oldest brother to take with for the ride.

The name made Will snap back to reality. "Me and who?" He reacted.

"Oh, there she is." Hannibal smiled politely, and Will feared to glance at the woman. "You must be Special Agent Teresa Brooks, Dr.Hannibal Lecter, FBI consultant."

Hannibal surprised himself with the young woman's firm handshake, he could sense strentgh, stubborness, a fire in her eyes that seemed to make Will a bit timid. That could be useful information.

"Are you ladies done chatting or should I wait another hour?" She crossed her arms, glancing at Will with an uneasy look.

"The Minnesota Shrike is my case." Will snapped back, already grumpy and sour. "Why are you interferring?"

"Ask Crawford about that." She replied unbothered. "If you wanna lose your time discussing my participation, then fine, suit yourself and take your baby sitter with you." She pointed to Hannibal, who only remained quiet watching the situation. "I'm going to catch a serial killer." She said as she walked forward leaving them behind.

Will audibly groaned as he watched her walk away. "I believe we should follow her." Hannibal suggested as he intrigued himself with that duo's dynamic. Without further words, Graham followed the woman, and didn't even bother arguing until they arrived at their desired location.

▫️

They arrived a muddy construction site, and Teresa turned off the engines with a swift movement of the key. Hannibal glanced at his watch, 30 minutes earlier than a normal travel would take.

"You're quite the driver, Miss Brooks." He commented, although he was terrified by her speed limit.

"And you're quite the scaredy cat, Mr.Lecter." she mocked back and he sniffed with a sly smirk. "So, we're looking for some pipes..."

Will rolled his eyes." It's actually a certain kinda metal. Certain kinda pipe. Certain kinda pipe coating.  So we’re looking at construction sites that use that kinda pipe."

"Still the same shit." Teresa finished as she got off the car leaving the two men.

Graham groaned audibly and Hannibal only chuckled at the chaotic duo while they headed into a camper trailer office, where an unwillingly attendant lets them investigate.

The men look through some dusty files in some shelves and boxes, while Teresa, still annoyed over the woman's reluctant behavior, overheard her speaking "Three fellas from the F.B.I." The woman said"They’re going through drawers now... Putting papers in file boxes.... Yes. They’re taking things....no. They didn’t say whe-"

Suddenly the phone was taken from her hand and slammed back into its' place, the sound making all the people in the room turn to Teresa, who committed the act. "If you're going to keep talking and interrupting the investigation, you can call your boss outside." She gave an ultimatum ans the woman only mumbled an scares apology.

Will wanted to admit she was ruthless, but it was actually quite helpful, this time. He looked over at her while his fingers slipped through the papers. The countours of her back, her curly and soft dark hair strands, the glossed lips reminding him of the places they kissed...

"What are you staring at?" She snapped back suddenly.

"...Just wondering why you're not helping" He cleared his throat, unable to admit he was staring at her. "Nevermind, stay where you are, you'll only bother anyway."

He continued to look over the files, until his eyes landed on a particular paper. "Garret Jacob Hobbs" Teresa turned to the sound of his voice, recognizing the discovery instantly. "What can you tell me about Mr.Hobbs?" He asked the attendant.

"One of our pipe threaders." She replied, pointing to the pile of papers where Will found the letter from. " Those are all the resignation letters. Plumbers union requires them whenever members finish a job."

"Do you know if Mr.Hobbs had a daughter?" Will suddenly asked.

"Might have."

"Eighteen or nineteen, wind-chaffed? Plain but pretty? She would have auburn hair.  About this tall." He gestured with an immaculate description.

The woman only shrugged her shoulders indifferent "Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t keep company with these people"

"Damn, you're just as useful as a crocheted condom." Teresa side-eyed the woman.

Brooks then got closer, looking over Will's shoulder to get a better visualizatuon of the man in the paper, just a name and nothing else she could find interesting at all. "What's with this guy?" She asked Will, Hannibal also wondered the same.

His eyes did not leave the paper for a single moment. "He left a phone number, no address." Graham muttered, while feeling Teresa's distracting breath on his shoulder.

"So what?"

"The others all left addresses." She didn't seem very convinced by that shallow answer. "Do you have an address for Mr. Hobbs?" He asked the attendant.

▫️

Unwillingly, the woman gave boxes and boxes of files, while the agents put them over the car.

Teresa was carrying three boxes in a pile, and Will most certainly saw her as a show off at that moment, certainly ridiculous.

"Want some help with that?" He said in a low tone, almost low enough so she wouldn't listen.

"Your help?" She scoffed. "You thin arms wouldn't handle not even one of these" she said as she continued to carry them. The attendant also struggled to carry her own files, checking over them before handling them to the FBI.

"Thin arms, seriously?" He raised an eyebrow, already having enough of that attutude "You didn't say that about them last night."

Before she could come up with an excuse, she felt a huge bump on her shoulder, making her body back hit Will's chest, his hands gripping onto her arms, as the boxes fell om the floor, papers floating around until they landed on the dirt.

"My apologies." Hannibal only muttered before returning to the camper trailer office - now alone.

Teresa sighed annoyed as she looked over at Will, his arms holding her as she broke away from his touch and kneeled on the floor to catch the files again. He mirrored her attitude, and continued the process.

Stealing glances from time to time, he finally gave in "Are you always that insufferable to work with?"

"Says the unsociable guy who sees through killers." She snapped back, Will sis not reply at fiest. "Yeah, Jack told me of your so called gift"

"You don't seem to believe it."

"Sounds more like some sort of charlatan's magic trick." She scoffed.

"At this point I believe you're just saying anything to offend me" He smirked unbothered, finally managing to pick up the papers. His large hand covered hers, as they met glances and he teased in a whisper. "Is that attitude just so you don't get attached to me? Huh?"

Teresa chuckled, almost as if that was a good joke. "As I've said, Agent Graham...you're a charlatan, poses as a great agent, behaves like you have a great dick-"

"Are we done?" Hannibal came in with the most peaceful of the expressions, a smile across his face. "Will...are you okay?" He asked noticing the avent's jaw slightly dropped.

Still incredulous at her accusation, Will recomposed himself and cleared his throat. "Yeah, all done...we have an address, let's follow that lead."

▫️

"You sure this is the place?" She asked, watching the residence still from the driver's seat.

"That's the address the attendant gave us." Hannibal said poiltely from the back seat, he seemed incredibly calm at that situation.

Unlike Will, who seemed rather tense, paralized, almost able to blur his glasses with the engines of his brain spinning and spinning around.

"Hey" Teresa noticed his strange mood, ans he looked over at her, deadly serious. "What's with that face? You look like some nerd who got caught jerking to a hentai" He didn't bother over her comment, just rook a hold of some pills and swallowed them all in. "Is it alright for him to take so many?" She looked strangely at his attutude, then over at Hannibal who only nodded seeing no problem at it. "If you say so..."

Off the car, Will and Teresa, side by side, headed over the residence, while Hanninal remained a bit more fat behind, watchinh the show burn as Garret threw his wife out of the home, throat slashed, blood getting over the porch's woodden floor.

The agents ran to her rescue, as Teresa wasted no time to put both her hands above the large cut that only bled more as time increased. "Don't panic, we are from FBI we are here to save you." She reassured the woman as she tried to scream but all that came out was the marroon liquid from her veins. Brooks glanced over at Will, who was a bit paralyzed, unsure of how to sayve the woman, almost as if the blood had shocked him. "What the fuck are you waiting for? Get in there and arrest that asshole!" She yelled at him, bringing Will back to reality.

The folllwing moments after Will and Lecter entered, all she heard were Will's words announcing the FBI entrance and then multiple gunshots.

"No, no, no" she muttered to the woman who lost pulse beneath her skin, as the bleeding stopped and so did the air in her lungs. "Damit!" She groaned and then ran inside, red palms while she held the gun om her waist, ready for the worst conflict when instead there were only Hobbs dead on the floor, while Will and Hannibal tried to keep a yoing girl alive. "Holy shit..."She mumbled and immediatly called for assistance.

It didn't take long for medical help to arrive along with the rest of the officers, yellow tapes covering the door, while deas bodies beinh carried and covered.

"Good job there, Brooks." Jack told her, but she didn't care much of his praises, only nodding with her head, as she looked over at Will, watching Abigail Hobbs get in the ambulance escorted by Hannibal Lecter. "Sonething on your mind?" Jack asked, noticing her distraction.

She crossed her arm. "Your guy overkilled the bastard." She turned to him. "He just shot a man ten times, is that casual to you?" Jack looked away, avoiding the question. "Look, he seems great in his job but that's...that's really messed up and can get ugly if you don't take care of it." She adviced.

"Do you want to take care of it?" Jack suddenly said.

"Excuse me?"

"Will has his flaws but he's the best in what he does, we need him on the team." He explained. "And I'm sure that aside all his personality and grudges you seem to have against him, you'd want a guy like him as an ally, not an enemy. So I either ask you, do you want to tame the beast, or lose it?"

Teresa looked deeply into Jack Crawford holding back words she fought so hard not to say.

"He's your problem, not mine." She walked away, leaving her supervisor speaking to the wind of that grey morning of death and sorrow.

And there was him, Will Graham with a sprinkled bloody face and stoned expression, watching the paramedics, unoticing her presence by his side.

"Hey" She said, and just then he looked over her, a different vision between the mess of his mind. "Takes me hard to say this but...not bad." She complimented. "You saved that girl's life. And that's...that's huge." She nodded, while he remained in silence. "You're not getting any more compliments, so stop staring at me like that" she rolled her eyes. "Also wash that shit off your face, makes you look like Patrick Bateman."

While stuck in that hurricane of emotions and battles within his consciouness, Will Graham could only assume one thing: that this woman wasn't some force to be reckoned with...and he liked that.