Don't Burn The Heart, Lightly Grill It With Some Fava Beans.

Chapter 1. Whelve.

Will Graham sat Jack Crawford down at a picnic table between his house and the forest. He poured him a cup of warm tea. Jacks eyes wondered across to Wills cozy old house he'd visited many times before.

"I should have cought you after you got off work," Jack began, "But I figured you wouldn't want to talk about this there."

"I didn't want to talk about it anywhere, Jack," Will responded. "But you have to, so lets hear it."

"How much do you already know?"

"Just what was in the papers," Will paused. "And that the victims are people we know...How many confessions so far?" Will asked, spinning his cup in his hands.

"Eighty six when I called this afternoon," Jack sighed, shifting in his seat. "Non knew any details."

"What did you keep out of the news?"

"He's got black hair, around 5'9, left handed and very intelligent, don't underestimate this guy." Jack warned, the seriousness clear in his tone. "And how he leaves the bodies. Everything else is public."

"So I assume there's no prints?"

"Just smooth glove smudges."

Jack looked over to the old dogs napping on the front porch. "Will, I've been wanting to ask you something." Jack said, still watching the tired dogs. "You saw this in the papers, the second one all over the TV. Did you ever consider giving me a call?" He asked, looking back to Will.

"No." Will said simply.

"Why not?"

"There wasn't enough details at first, could have been anything...revenge...an ex-boyfriend-"

"You really think a ex-boyfriend could have done that to them?" Jack interrupted.

"No." Will lowered his head. "By the second one I knew what it was."

"Which is?"

"A psychopath."

"And why didn't you call me then?"

"Because I didn't want to. It isn't good for me, especially now. I know who you already have working this. You've got the best lab-"

"And I've got you here, fucking fishing and chopping wood."

"I don't think I'd be much use to you, Jack." Will trailed off, remembering all he'd been through. "Not anymore."

"Well I'd have to disagree. You're the reason we cought Hannibal and Verger."

"Hannibal and Verger didn't kill people we knew. This one does..." Will chocked out. "I can only do what the rest of the team does."

"That's not true, Will. It's the way you think."

"Oh bullshit."

"You've made jumps no one can explain."

"The evidence was there." Said Will.

"Sure there was, plenty of it. Afterward." Jack leaned across the table, closer to Will. "...I know you got hurt last time," Jack said, pushing up Will's glasses. "But he won't stop, you know that."

Will thought for a moment, his hands just barely shaking. "I don't believe I could do it now. I could make myself look, but my mind won't be so willing."

The scene fell silent, the cold late spring breeze pushing through the trees onto Will's skin, reminding him that this wasn't just another bad dream. Just like that, it was all happening again.
Will's nervous state didn't slip past Jack, and he couldn't help the pinch of guilt in his chest.

"I'll come back after dinner," Jack told Will as he stood to leave. "I think we have a better chance of getting him before anyone else gets hurt if you help."

Will said nothing.

Dust spun in the air as Jack's car started down the driveway, away from Will's home. The dust settled and Will played the conversation back in his head. He stared down into his now cold cup of tea and sighed, knowing by the end of the night Jack would have him back in the field.

And for the time he spent trying to forget the past, only for it to repeat again.