Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hear my soul speak:
The very instant that I saw you, did
My heart fly to your service.
(The Tempest, 3.1)

OoOoO

Baltimore. Why the fuck was he in Baltimore, Maryland of all places? Oh yeah…because Alana was beautiful, just about his only friend, and had asked him to be here for her.

‘Here’ was in the driveway of Baltimore’s wealthier neighborhoods, the house it belonged to far grander than anything Will had ever owned or lived in. He tried not to resent its owner already. Will would be introduced soon enough to him. Apparently, this little dinner party was being thrown by one Hannibal Lecter, a longtime friend of Alana’s. Will was acting as her plus one tonight, but only in the capacity of friend. This wasn’t a date. Always honest with him, Alana had made that abundantly clear. This was more of an attempt at making Will more sociably in a controlled setting because he needed other friends who were not of the canine persuasion. He had only agreed so that he could keep the one human friend he had, though he had no intention of socializing more than he had to. Will was certain that he wouldn’t be invited back either.

Sighing, Will made himself leave the relative safety of his car, taking a moment to go over his clothing with a lint roller several times. As much as he didn’t care about making a positive impression, he did respect other people’s property and knew not everyone appreciated pet hair and dander like the lonely people glitter it was. To his instant relief, it was Alana who answered the heavy door made unnecessarily from some exotic wood. Will added pretentious shit to his evolving idea of Hannibal Lecter‘s design.

“You’re late!” Alana admonished with a grin and laugh, her reddened cheeks and nearly empty glass in hand letting Will know that she was already several beers in. “You’re lucky I already warned Hannibal that you had a tendency to run late.”

“Hannibal?” Will tested their host’s name out aloud on his tongue, scrunching his nose up at how it tasted to him. Unusual, foreign, and not quiet fitting to his palette. Will realized he must have focused on it for longer than he should have, noticing his surroundings in a belated manner. The room he had been led into probably had some sort of fancy name for it but to hell if Will knew what it was. Peering about, he deemed it a mausoleum. It was a fancy one like the Taj Mahal, but this was a place where death hung his hat, the air leaving Will’s lungs.

Numerous animal skulls on display peered back at Will, looking at him unimpressed by his assessment. The room held a chill that not even the lit fireplace couldn’t displace for all its fine efforts. Perhaps it was the patterned marble floor tile or the fact this home was owned by a killer of some caliber might have had something to do with it.

“Will, are you alright?” was the concerned question that brought Will to the here and now, Alana looking over at him with searching eyes. It took a moment but Will realized that they were not alone here anymore, two other gazes upon him and neither of them were welcome.

Jack Crawford and Frederick Chilton watched him with varying degrees of interest, making Will want to run and hide. One man he knew of in passing, having had a disagreement with Crawford a while back over his silly museum with its ridiculous name. Since then, the agent had been hounding Will to come work for him, an offer that Will continuously declined. He had no interest in becoming the agent’s bloodhound.

The other Will only knew of in passing and what he had heard of Chilton made him curse under his breath. The administrator of Baltimore’s State Hospital for the Criminally Insane was not a person Will had any inclination to talk to, especially after he had learned about the man’s interest in his abilities and precarious mental state.

Perfect, just fucking perfect. He was in a serial killer’s house with woman he couldn’t be in love with, a headstrong FBI agent he didn’t trust, and a pompous, incompetent asshat who would try to commit him if Will revealed their host’s true nature.

“I’m fine. Just have a headache.” Will mumbled, shaking his head as he pulled an ever-present bottle of aspirin out of his coat’s pocket. He made a show of dry swallowing a couple of pills to help alleviate Alana’s concern.

“You look a little flushed.” Alana said, even as she pulled him toward to the other company before he could make that his excuse to leave.

“Stress makes me run hot.” Will said as he narrowed his eyes at her. Alana was sober enough to catch it, wincing in guilt from it.

“I didn’t mean to ambush you…” she murmured, linking her arm through his own to help ground him. “I hadn’t realized that Hannibal was inviting either until it was too late. It would have been rude to cancel, and Hannibal abhors rudeness.”

“Oh yay, a serial killer with a quirk.” Will mused to himself as he absorbed more of his surroundings, somewhat in a daze. Originally, he had just been hoping to survive the evening in a social aspect, not in the real meaning of the word. Barely paying attention to unnecessary introductions, Will got the sinking feeling that the odds of that happening were becoming less likely the more he looked around.

Antiquated medical equipment on display hinted to Will that Hannibal was of the medical profession. The number of blades in one form or another confirmed this. If Will was a betting man, he would place hard money on surgeon. The books in the room were in various languages, a large number of them baring French titles, though Will spotting some Japanese and what he presumed to be Russian for the moment so there was a good chance Hannibal was foreign as well.

There was a pattern forming all around Will, making him feel trapped. This wasn’t a house. It was a trap and tomb all in one, and he had walked right into it. Their host was a highly intelligent psychopath with loads of experience and an unhealthy dose of sadism to boot.

They were so fucked.

Getting lost in his own head as other people made tedious attempts at small conversation around him, Will desperately constructed a profile for survival, his if not all of theirs. They were in danger and Will didn’t have a shred of evidence to convince them or prove otherwise. Even if he did, Will couldn’t figure out a way of presenting it without making himself sound insane. He lived and breathed killers and their case files so he had to figure out who Hannibal Lecter really was, learn his pathology and quickly.

Dismissing the case files in his head of already caught and incarnated killers, Will opened up his mind. Making his mental space one giant room, Will threw folders over his shoulders left and right as he eliminated possibilities. Letting Alana carry the conversation, Will ignored prompts and inquiries, barely bothering to answer beyond an occasionally ‘yes’ or ‘no’ as he scanned the room, desperate for any sort of tell.

Too violent, too careless, not violent enough, too old and probably dead, too young, not enough kills…Will’s mental shelving was quickly becoming empty, just a few folders left, none of which Will wanted to open. It took one sketch to make everything fall into place, Will’s stomach sinking like a rock to hit bottom.

Fuckity fuck. They were all so dead. Will had to laugh, causing all of his company to look over at him in surprise.

“Do you find eight missing girls funny for some reason, Mr. Graham?” Crawford asked, narrowing his eyes at the man holding his sides like they hurt.

“Eight dead girls. They’re not missing.” Will gasped, fighting to not fall into hysterics in front of people who would put him in a little padded room for fun. Not that it mattered. They were all so fucked.

The Chesapeake Ripper. Of course, it had to be the Chesapeake Ripper. Fuck him blind and dead, he had the devil’s luck. Will wondered what he could have done in a past life to deserve this.

“I believe I have missed something important.” said an unfamiliar voice from behind Will who was unable to place the accent. It warped the stranger’s words into something extraordinarily lyrical and soft, more like a plucked note than a spoken word.

“You have no idea.” Will said before he could stop himself, turning around to face the Chesapeake Ripper. For a serial killer, he wore the ugliest damn suit Will had ever seen in his life, but he had a fascinating face and way about him. Will tried to remember when and where he had seen sharper cheekbones and failed. The eyes that studied him were interesting and interested in him, their shade a peculiar shade of rarely seen burgundy.

“You must be the infamous Will Graham that Alana has been keeping all to herself for so long.” the monster smiled thinly at Will, offering his hand to Will who took it and shuddered.

“That I am.” Will muttered, gritting his teeth as he tried to get himself back under control. Fear was making his sick though, sweat pouring off of him as every Ripper kill replayed itself through his head on an endless loop. His own pitch black nature, hidden and ignored for too long, was screaming to be let out, the claws of a beast made of fur, antler, and inky feather making deep furrows in their flesh prison.

“Pardon me for saying this, but you do not look well.” Hannibal said, peering at Will what could be misconstrued for concern by their onlookers. Will could see the curiosity moving all the clockwork in that head though. Hannibal was a predator in every sense of the word. He could tell something was off about Will. He figured it out soon enough though, too soon, knew that Will was in on what lay behind his mask. All it took was Will moving in front of Alana when Hannibal took a step toward them.

“Must have caught something. I’ll make my excuses and my goodbyes now, and have Alana drive me home.” Will smiled weakly. As far as escape plans went, it was pretty weak, a fragile idea thrown together and held in place with lies and hastily said prayers.

“Alana has already had several beers. I would not feel comfortable with her behind the wheel. Luckily for you, I was a doctor before I became a psychiatrist.” Hannibal assured the room while Will tried not to go into hysteric about his run of shit luck. Of course, he had to be right about Hannibal being a doctor.

“I wouldn’t want to impose or ruin your dinner party.” Will went for the polite route, only to be met by a master of etiquette.

“You are my guest, and as a host and a doctor, your comfort as well as your health is important to me. I believe Alana, Jack, and Frederick will be most understanding if dinner is a little late.” Hannibal said, dealing out a coup de grâce to Will’s escape plan.

“Actually…” Frederick began, his interference startling Will who had honestly forgotten that there were other people in the room with them.

“Especially if they ever wanted to be invited back.” Hannibal finished that thought for Chilton.

“I don’t want to get anyone else sick…” Will said, already knowing it was a feeble attempt.

“You’ll do just that though by putting off my offer.” Hannibal said lightly but there was a warning there. Will read between the lines, nodding back weakly to watch the smug bastard smile in answer. Hannibal knew Will didn’t give a flying fuck about the other two, but Alana was as good as dead if Will didn’t go along with what Hannibal wanted, and right now, Hannibal wanted Will alone with him.

Leaving Alana and the rest to follow Hannibal deeper into his house…spiders, flies, and parlors immediately springing to mind… going though a lavish cobalt blue dining room into an equally impressive kitchen to some side stairs. Will picked up on more than he ever wanted to about the Chesapeake Ripper. For one, he was a cannibal. The organs from all the victims taken hadn’t been surgical trophies, at least not in the normally accepted sense. The kitchen was proof enough of that. That knowledge compounded with heavenly smells coming from the oven made Will nauseous, bile rising up in his throat, but not the usual reason one would expect. The monster in him was purring, wanting to know the taste of that rare meat.

Not that he would get a chance to find out. Hannibal was going to kill him, of course, with an FBI agent downstairs, and get away with it. Will was certainly there was a kill room somewhere in this house of cold marble and bone art. Hannibal would feed them all lies along with dinner, and they would swallow it down, thinking the taste of it was truth. Will would disappear without a trace, few would mourn his absence, and life would go on.

“Can you tell Alana at some point to check in on my dogs?” Will heard himself ask, the sound of it far off in the distance. He’s already back in his head with one case file in hand, the folder of it wet and slick with crimson that soaks through the thick card stock to stain his hands.

“Why would I do that?” Hannibal asked. Will found the man’s face fascinating to watch, for all the nothing it gave back. Minute expressions would play across it like a ripples in a pond, the monster under the water in hiding switching out its masks to convey an expected or corresponding emotion on the surface.

“Don’t….just don’t. We both know what you’re planning.” Will sighed. He didn’t have the patience anymore to deal with such pageantry.

“And what would that be?” Hannibal arched a barely there brow back at him. It made Will want to punch the smug asshole in his throat. Instead, Will made himself look at Hannibal and really see something he had missed.

“Oh…You can’t admit it.” Will blinked, realization making him pause. “You’re too used to hiding, even if it’s in plain sight.”

“I think you have mistaken…”Hannibal started to say, only to be cut off.

“Don’t lie to me. I prefer sins of omission to outright deception so please don’t waste my time.” Will snapped, before making himself take a deep calming breath. “I see you. I see what you are.”

“And what am I? Tell me how you see me.” Hannibal said to only flesh out the profile in Will’s head, who added narcissist to the list.

“The snake who slithers by the house. A killer who makes pigs into art with an elegance and a grace that is unmatched.” Will admitted almost wistfully. If these were to be his last words, he would make them honest. He closed his eyes and waited for his end. Quid pro quo, even steven. His death for Alana’s life. “I name you, devil. You are the Chesapeake Ripper.”

It never came, Will only met with the room’s stillness rather than the bite of a blade in his gut or the tightening of fingers around his neck. Risking a look, Will peeked through his thick lashes to find Hannibal staring at him, his strangely hued eyes dark and fathomless.

“You are going to tell Alana yourself to look after your dogs.” Hannibal said after a long moment, ripe from tension but not the violent variety. Will shifted uncomfortably under that keen gaze.

“Why would I do that?” Will licked his lips, instantly regretting the gesture as eyes followed how his tongue wet his mouth. The attention to his detail was almost obscene.

“Because you are going to feel unwell after dinner. I have many guest rooms and will extend an invitation to you to make use of one. You will accept while declining any offers of a ride from the others. You will sleep here tonight, and have breakfast with me in the morning.” Hannibal said softly, the quiet of his words somehow making them more imposing. This was a man who didn’t need to shout to be heard or obeyed. He could kill with a nod and conquer with a word.

“You still haven’t answered my question. Not really. Perhaps I should rephrase it.” Will tried to redirect that interest, that terrible focus upon him. “Why would you do that?”

“I wish to speak with you at length in private without distraction.” Hannibal said easily enough, the thin smile lifting the corners of his lips, cutting into Will deeper than any knife. This monster had plans for him. Great and terrible plans that made Will tremble though not entirely out of fear.

“I’m not some toy you can wind up and let go to see how I work. I’m not here for your entertainment.” Will hissed. He was his own kind of predator so he snapped his teeth at the killer approaching him, trying to make the other back off and give him some space. It didn’t work, Hannibal too close, too there for Will’s liking.

“And yet, my dear William, you are going to do everything I ask of you. You will eat my food, drink my wine, and sleep in my bed.” Hannibal murmured as he leaned into Will’s personal space, inhaling deeply as he did so. A large hand found the curve of Will’s hip while another tangled itself in dark curls, securing Will’s head in place and held still as the empath was scented. Will wondered what monsters smelled like to one another.

“I don‘t find you that interesting.”

“You will.”

OoOoO

The end

Chapter Text

Dinner was tongue.

Well, someone’s tongue anyway. No amount of preparation made it look any different, or perhaps that was just the Chesapeake Ripper’s sadistic preference. Watching his dining companions unknowingly feast upon his victims.

“Does it make you feel powerful?” Will asked as he delved in. He wasn’t thrilled about what was on his plate, but growing up dirt poor had come with some certain advantages. One of them being that Will could eat just about anything, and keep it down without making his distaste obvious.

“Does what make me feel powerful?” Hannibal parried, his worlds light and effortless. The fucking pompous asshole looked completely unconcerned.

“Cooking.” Will kept it simple. No one was in his corner, and he was about to go ten rounds with one of the best in the bloody business of murder and subterfuge.

“It is an act of creation, and all acts of creating are reflective of power in some degree. It is also a good feeling to be able to provide for others, and to do so well.” Hannibal said. Alana toasted to him for that bit of drivel, the others following suit like the good little courses they may end up all being.

“What did you mean earlier about all those girls being dead?” Jack asked, apparently not much one for tact, or burying the lead.

“Exactly what I said. You can’t find them because he’s not leaving anything behind for you to find.” Will said as he considered the side dishes, all artfully crafted though he didn’t know what most of them where. Will hadn’t really been listening when Hannibal had announced them. Will saw tongue on the plate, and stopped bothering to pay attention to the food after that. He wondered how many of them had people in them. Blood was very versatile.

”What else did you notice? I sent you the files.” Jack’s mouth was watering, but it wasn’t for what was on his plate anymore.

Yes, you did. After I explicitly turned you down.” Will shooting Crawford a very unimpressed look back.

“Jack!” Alana snapped, glaring daggers at the agent.

“I had to!” Jack cried in his defense. All the while, Will kept an eye on Hannibal, who looked like the happiest of serial killer ducklings. Theater was being performed live at his very own dinner table with very little effort from him.

“I know. Your killer didn’t leave you much of a choice.” Will sighed with a shrug, taking the chance to leave off the food. He didn’t know if it was better, or worse about the fact it was possibly one of the most delicious meals he had ever eaten in his life. No wonder Hannibal looked so smug.

“Damn it, Jack! I told you to leave Will alone!” Alana yelled, beer brevity gone to be replaced with a more mad mama bear energy.

“I came to you for an opinion to help me make a decision. I wasn’t there for you to make that decision for me.” Jack shot back.

“How do you know?” Hannibal asked, turning his full attention upon Will. The profiler very much wanted to crawl under the table, and never come out again.

“Yes, Agent Graham. How did you come to the conclusion?” Chilton parroted. It took a lot on Will’s part not to throw his wine into the other smug idiot’s face. Chilton wanted to be Hannibal Lecter so badly.

Drinking his wine like he was considering the inane question, Will decided against it. Not that he had much hope for survival, but Will wasn’t looking to antagonize the Chesapeake Ripper either, and intentionally spilling wine on his hardwood would not endear Will to whatever Hannibal had for a heart.

“I’m not an agent.” Will flatly corrected him.

“A doctor then...” Chilton knew how to twist a knife, little as his blade was.

“My, my,” Will thought to himself, “Someone thinks he’s clever.”

“Will teaches at the academy.” Jack interceded. No one was amused by Chilton’s antics.

“Ah, yes, of course, a teacher. Must have slipping my mind.” Chilton said. He was trying to bait Will, but one quick subtle look over at Hannibal confirmed that Chilton was under consideration for future meal planning. “Will is a very interesting topic of conversation in certain psychiatric circles...”

“Forgive the interruption, Fredrick, but the only topic of conversation that has been interesting is Jack’s current case. I care more about Will’s insights on the matter than tiresome unfounded gossip.” Hannibal cut through with all the grace of his former profession, Chilton’s contribution amputated to fall dead to the floor. “So, Will, tell us why Jack couldn’t help himself? Why did he insist on sending you the files?

“Because another girl has been taken.” Will said, letting a twist of a smile escape his lips. He didn’t want to encourage Hannibal, but seeing Chilton being shut down so effectively was worth a bit of a mirth before he turned back to Jack. “They’re all very Mall of America, don’t you think? A lot of wind chafed skin.”

“He’s got a type.” Alana added, still sounding unhappy about the whole ordeal.

“That he does. He’ll have a daughter who looks like that, or someone who lives with him that he perceives as his daughter.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Chilton challenged.

“Because he’s the best.” Will thought that Jack took too much pleasure in his accomplishments.

“It’s not a magic trick. All this can be explained and backed by the evidence, or at least in this case, the lack there of.”

“That’s why I need you to go to Minnesota with me.” Jack said, putting all his cards on the table.

“You want me to be sociable?” Will arched a brow back.

“Out of the question!” Alana was quick to argue on Will’s behalf, something he was truly grateful for. It wouldn’t work, but at least, someone was trying.

“I don’t remember asking you to go with him, Doctor Bloom.” Jack snapped back.

“Perhaps I could be of assistance.” Hannibal said softly yet firmly, making Will’s guts clench tight with sudden fear.

“How so?” Jack said at the same time as Will said, “Absolutely not.”

“Let’s hear Hannibal out. He just might be onto something.” Jack hushed Will who decided it was best to just stare up at the ceiling for now. Apparently, his insights only went so far with Jack.

“Yeah, the chance to murder in other states.” Will kept to himself. He wasn’t liking the direction this conversation was taking. “He’s a civilian.” He did say aloud.

“In another life, I was an ER doctor and surgeon for many, many years at John Hopkins before I became a psychiatrist.” Hannibal said, confirming Will’s earlier assessment. It also explained why the Ripper didn’t leave behind any evidence.

“Why’d you quit?” Will asked, deciding to buy the ticket, take the ride.

“I killed a patient, or more accurately, a patient died while under my care.” The response was so well crafted, ticking off all the right boxes. Will almost felt like applauding.

“Happens to the best of us.” Alana reassured, making Will wonder just how long Hannibal had been gaslighting her.

“Happened one too many times for me.” Butter won’t melt in Hannibal’s mouth. “I turned my passion from the body to the mind, and no one has died since.”

Will drank more wine to keep himself from doing or saying anything carelessly stupid.

“Two heads for the price of one. I can get behind that.” Jack looked far too pleased about this.

“I would have less issue with Will being in the field if Hannibal was there.” Alana added because the day was just proving over and over again just how low it could go.

“Don’t you think you’re jumping the gun there, Jack? I haven’t agreed to do anything, other than enjoy this lovely meal.” Will tried.

“Will,” Jack started in on him to be paused by their host.

“Perhaps it is something Will and I could discuss later in private.” Hannibal announced to be met with questioning looks. “Will has agreed with my earlier assessment about his health, and he will be stayed here tonight with me as my guest.”

Now that was interesting. Hannibal had been actually serious about having no intention of killing him this evening.

“Nothing contagious, I hope.” Chilton pulled a face. Fucking prick.

“Fear not, Fredrick. Encephalitis is not contagious.” Hannibal said simply, dropped one hell of a conversational bomb.

“No, I don’t.” Will said more out of habit than belief.

“I am afraid that you quite do. Please forgive me, but I can smell it on you.” Hannibal said one of the most improbable things Will had ever come across

“You can smell it?” Jack said aloud what everyone was thinking.

“I have an extraordinary sense of smell that has been both a blessing and a curse. While in medical school, I once scented cancer in a teacher of mine.” Hannibal all but preened.

“What does encephalitis smell like?” Will asked, despite everything. He was curious, and hell, Hannibal wanted his trust. If it were true, and Will had a very bad feeling that it was, then this was Hannibal’s version of a peace offering or truce of some sort.

“Delicately sweet. Almost floral, like a nose of white flowers from the very best champagnes.” Hannibal said, sealing the deal.

Checkmate. As of right now, Will knew it would be next to impossible to get anyone to believe him about Hannibal being the Chesapeake Ripper.

“You don’t seem too worried about it.” Will said, reaching for his wine glass to take a ‘fuck it’ sized gulp. Hannibal kept topping it off. It wasn’t whiskey, but it was expensive, French, and packing around 14%.

“I’m not. It is in the earliest stage. You will need an MIR to confirm, and a round of antiviral and anticonvulsant IV as treatment. Luckily for you, I still know quite a few people at John Hopkins. I promise I’ll have you home before dinner.” Because, of course, Hannibal would, and now he had Will all to himself for a couple of days. Wasn’t life grand?

That could be a taken as a promise or threat, but in the end, Will decided that it was just Hannibal being humorous. Fuck him dead, the Chesapeake Ripper had a thing for puns, life proving once again that things could always get worse.

Out of options, Will accepted that he was along for the ride for now, and no amount of kicking and screaming would make anyone turn this car around.

At the very least, the wine was very good and plentiful as Hannibal topped off Will’s glass again.

Chapter Text

Like all things did in their own time, the dinner party ended, and everyone began to disperse, saying their goodbyes. Will was not among them.

Currently, the unfortunate profiler was in what only could be called a parlor. The Chesapeake Fucking Ripper had an honest-to-goodness parlor, its still space filled with rare treasures, a sea of knowledge in the form of books and journals lining the walls, and enough bones to make Will question how others perceived reality. Hannibal was practically advertising that he was a serial killer, but all anyone wanted to notice was those shiny surfaces, ignoring what lay below them.

It was one hell of a person suit, as finely tailored as the hideous plaid one beneath it. Due to the level of style and finesse, Will believed that Hannibal had started, or been made to start while they were young, meaning that this was an old monster, full of experience, terrible capabilities, and worst of all, confidence. No wonder he wasn’t bothered about anything, not even by the FBI agent he had fed body parts to, or one of the best profiler’s in the world getting very drunk in his very real, very creepy parlor.

Bored. That’s what it was. Hannibal was bored, Will’s fevered brain supplied.

Will really wish now that he had laid off the wine. He hadn’t expected to survive the evening so he had been shooting for numb and very smother-able. He had been banking on the fact that Hannibal would be impressed with him, and might out of respect, give him a painless death. Will reasoned out that Hannibal must have some sort of code of conduct to evade capture for so long. The nature of it probably only made any sense to Hannibal, but it was something Will could test and poked around in when the time came again.

Will stared at the room, this parlor, at all the beautiful things arranged it. His brain tore apart these items, dissolving them one by one into brain acid so that every iota of information was extracted from it to create a more concise profile. A lot of lives depended on this assessment, so much so that it needed to be on a level of unprecedented perfection that Will had never achieved before.

It was giving him one hell of a headache.

Between the wine, pain, and the warmth of the fire, Will lost a level of consciousness, sounds, colors, and shapes softly fuzzy around their edges blurred out of sight as he dozed. Will slowly became aware of a hand beside him, two large white pills nestled into its palm.

“For the pain.” Hannibal said, making the profiler aware of the presence of water as well.

“What is it?” Will asked even as he accepted the pills to dry swallow them, grinning up at his host, because Will had his own sense of twisted humor. To the profiler’s delight and relief, the Ripper picked up on it. Hannibal shaking his head as he sat across from Will.

“Does it matter?” Hannibal pointed out, holding out the glass of water. “Drink your water, Will. I brought some tea as well, one that will alleviate that hangover you’ve planned for your tomorrow self.”

“Is it poisonous?”

“Anything can be poisonous if taken in enough amounts.”

“‘All mushrooms are edible, but some fungi can be eaten only once’ sort of thing?”

“I wouldn’t poison you. I would never do that to a blend of Phoenix tea, the sort of which can only be prepared once a year by a handful of monks.”

It was like every time Will thought Hannibal couldn’t sound or act more pretentious, the serial killer was like ‘hold my beer’. Will wondered if Hannibal knew what memes were. He also decided whatever the hell Hannibal had given him, he really, REALLY liked it.

“This is...nice.” Will meant to think, but said it aloud instead.

“It’s my own personal blend.”

“Of course. You even tailor make your own drugs!” Will laughed. It felt so good to just laugh for once. “So how are you planning to kill me? Do I get to vote on anything in regard to it, or is it purely dealer’s choice?”

“You seem quite confident that I’m going to murder you.”

“You would be stupid, careless , or crazy to keep me alive, and we both know that you’re none of those things. Sins of omission are fine, but don’t you dare try to lie to the likes of me. It’s insulting.” Will said, making his next move. “In fact, one could even view it as rude. I’m not like them, the pigs!”

“No, you’re not. What do think you are? Do you even know?”

“I don’t know. How do you see me?”

“Jack sees you as a fragile little teacup, meant for only special occasions, and Alana wants to save you like one would a wounded animal.”

“I already know what they think of me. I’m asking you. How do you see me?”

“I see you as the mongoose I want under the house when the snake slithers by.”

Will snorted out laughter, drinking the rest of his water to smother it out. “How do you see me?” Hannibal asked as he prepared the tea, handing off one with Will when it was done. “I am curious to find how much you think you know.”

“You won’t like it. No one ever does.”

“I am not like everyone else, neither of us are. I believe that has been established well enough to proceed forward in this...endeavor.”

“I’m an endeavor now? Already working my way up the food chain. Go me.” Hannibal wanted to be so seen, desperation that anyone else would have missed seeping into the Ripper’s edges.

“Will...” Hannibal warned.

“You are an intelligent psychopath with sadist tendencies, and I’m only called you a psychopath because the word for you hasn’t been created yet. You’ll be almost impossible to catch because you never kill the same way. You kill in an indiscriminate manner, your victims ranging in all ages, genders, nationalities, and religious beliefs. You’re to the point that you’ve elevated your craft to fine art, consistently theatrical. That denotes, as well as as other things, that you are an avid reader, and a patron of the arts.“ Will launched into the ever growing profile. “How’d I do?”

“I believe that you left something very important out.” Hannibal smiled, his first real expression this evening.

“You’re a cannibal, and you fed someone, or several someones to your dinner guests this evening. That was a lot of tongue. What did they do to earn on a spot on your table?”

“I would think that would be quite obvious by now. They over used their tongues, so I relieved them of their presence.”

“What abominable thing happened to you that makes you like puns?”

“What do you find offensive about puns?”

“‘To trifle with the vocabulary which is the vehicle of social intercourse is to tamper with the currency of human intelligence. He who would violate the sanctities of his Mother Tongue would invade the recesses of the paternal till without remorse.’ springs to mind.”

“One does not often hear Samuel Johnson, author of the 1755 Dictionary of the English Language, quoted.”

“I am also an avid reader.” Will shrugged, which was true. He was not going to admit, even under pain of certain death, that he had read that particular quote in a old Reader’s Digest while killing time in his vet’s office.

“Anything else I should know about me?” Hannibal all but purred. He was so unbearable pleased with life right now it made Will grit his back teeth.

“When you were young, you were left to die. I’d say more that once, to the point it was a common theme in your developmental years. They expected you to die, but you didn’t. You grew up, and looked normal. No one can tell you what you are, not even me.”

“You have already come worlds closer than most.”

“High walls?”

“Yes. Can you keep climbing, or is this where you quit?”

“I may wax poetic.”

“I would encourage it.

“You are a performer. Every brutal choice has eloquence and grace. It hides the true nature of your passion.”

“What is my passion, Will?”

“Removing pest, people who’ve degrading themselves into pigs. They don’t deserve their organs, or the life they’re squandering. Death is their reward for undignified behavior. Their dissections are meant to disgrace them. It’s a public shaming.”

“Be careful, Will. They’ll say that we’re in love.”

“But that’s what you want, what any artist wants. You wish to be seen, appreciated, and at least some small part of you, known. You want the experience and to be experienced. You want to be understood.”

What happened next was a fractured series of events, Hannibal deciding that it was time for bed. Will travel from one place to another was a blur.

“I have no intention of raping you.” Was what brought Will back to himself. Apparently, he’d had a shower and change of clothing while mentally checked out.

“I know that.” Will shooting the sadist serial killer an exasperated look, one that clearly said that Hannibal was being an idiot. “I just sweat a lot, and I don’t want to ruin your sheets. They look like they cost more than my car.”

Whatever Hannibal expected Will to say, it hadn’t been that, the killer surprised into laughing. Hannibal flipped the covers back to invite the profiler into his bed.

“Oh fuck.” Was all Will could think to say. The bed was in a league of its own, the word ‘bed’ not even beginning to cover the miraculous things it was doing to his body. It was so good that Will was willing to forgive being fed the other, other white meat. “Fuck, that is nice.”

“I am glad you approve. I was considering tying you to the bed.”

“You’ll be lucky to able to get me out of it in the morning without using a crowbar.” Already burrowed down in entirely high count imports cotton and silk bedding, Will added to Hannibal’s profile that he preferred to sleep on and in pure soft bliss that included memory foam. He fell asleep before he could hear Hannibal’s response.

Hours later, he woke up warm. Whatever Hannibal had given him earlier was keeping his fever down, which in turn made his dreams less intense. Letting his eyes adjust, Will found a glass of water by his side, the profiler gratefully drinking it down. He was also presently surprised to find himself not tied down to the bed.

Making his movements heard so Hannibal knew that he was just trying to use the bathroom instead of sneaking out, Will quickly made use of it. He knew Hannibal was awake, and probably had been so since Will woke up gasping for air, waiting to see what the profiler would do, what fate befell him.

What Will decided to do was return to bed. He reached for Hannibal slowly, gently just in case the touch was unwanted. Will’s fingertips brushed up against cold skin, a fine chill running through Hannibal as his body reacted to those points of warmth.

“Christ, you’re skin is freezing. Are you cold?” Will whispered.

“Always.” Hannibal whispered back. Gentle hands acted in stronger manner, pulling at him until Hannibal’s back was pressed to Will’s front. It seared Hannibal, Will’s body warmth a better blanket than he had ever found out in the world.

For the first time, in a very long time, Will Graham slept, but didn’t dream.

Chapter Text

Will wasn’t one of those people who flipped on to ‘AWAKE’ in the morning unless provoked. He preferred to wake slowly, allowing information to seep in so that he could organize it accordingly based on importance. Usually, it was as uncomplicated as letting his dogs out. Not dealing with accidents was very important.

Sleeping with another person was a rare enough event for Will, waking up in that someone’s bed even more so. Being contained in this charged space was on a whole new level of it own.

“Good morning.” Was almost enough of a provocation to make Will get out of the bed that was definitely not his own. Almost.

Will didn’t know how Hannibal found the time to get anything done when he had a bed like this waiting for him at home. Will realized that his crippling insomnia was taking a vested, unhealthy interest in it.

“That’s a matter of opinion. There had better be coffee.” Will grumbled, burrowing back under sinfully soft blankets and pillows. He poked his head out long enough to acknowledge that Hannibal appeared to be already showered, shaved, pressed, and dressed for the day in yet another ugly plaid suit.

“Are you Scottish?” Will grumbled from where he was hiding in plain sight.

“That is a truly ridiculous question. Why do you ask?”

“Your accent is Baltic. If I had to hazard a guess, Lithuanian?”

“You would be correct.” Though Hannibal didn’t expand on any of it. Not a good subject. Duly noted.

“What’s with all the damn plaid then?”

“Plaid is stylish.” Hannibal had the audacity to sound miffed about it.

Will didn’t know what to say to that so he let it go. Fashion wasn’t the hill he wanted to die on. Nothing mattered anyway. It cease to after Will took his first sip of what Hannibal referred to as coffee.

“Is it not to your liking?” Hannibal felt the need to ask. Will had been staring down at his cup of coffee for a while now. At least long enough for Hannibal to spruce up his bedroom, with the exception of the actual bed with Will still in it, and returning from the downstairs with the profiler’s freshly laundered clothing.

“Yes, and no.” Will finally allowing himself to take another sip. For the first time in his life, he was truly savoring a cup of coffee, lingering over it even. People were dead, and he didn’t give a flying fuck about any of that until he ran out of this wondrous elixir. “The issue is that it is very much to my liking.”

“Is that a compliment or a complaint?”

“Yes?”

“Let’s see if I can somewhat raise the bar with breakfast then.”

“Dare I ask what we are having?

“I thought a protein scramble would make for an excellent start.” The meal presented like art.

“Did the protein not scramble fast enough for you?” Will grinned, chuckling even. Will caught Hannibal staring as he dug into the food.

“I’ve made arrangements at John Hopkins. Jack wants you fighting fit by the end of the day.” Hannibal said, digging into his own meal in a more artistic manner. Will realized his misstep. He made a show of enjoying the food. Hannibal smiled serenely back, pleased and forgiving.

“What’s happening at the end of the day?”

“We are flying out to Minnesota.” Will knew it was going to be first class, and somehow, Hannibal was going to make the FBI pay for it. Will wasn’t about to lie to himself about being thrilled about it.

“Why?”

“One of the missing girls was found.”

“What? How?” That wasn’t likely. Will was back on board for this.

“Tucked back into her own bed, like she were merely sleeping.” Hannibal smiled, the expression thin and sharp as his blades. The Chesapeake Killer was clearly amused, but even more so, intrigued about what Will was going to say next.

“Something’s wrong with her. She’s not perfect, not perfect enough anyway to act as a replacement for what he really wants to sink his teeth into. This will be the time to catch him. He’s made a mistake. He’s going to make more. Whatever he did to the others, he couldn’t do to her. Whatever this is, it’s an apology.” Will stated, clear of doubt.

“It will be his undoing.” Hannibal predicted.

“All of ours if we’re not careful. So where are we going after this?”

“Will, I am not in the habit of repeating myself.” Hannibal stated firmly. He stared at Will, who stared openly back.

“You’re insane. This is insane. You can’t let me live.” Will voiced the words he could not believe he was saying aloud.

“And yet, I am.” Hannibal’s face held the expression of someone who was having the most unexpected time of their life, and reveling in every second of it.

Will couldn’t believe that he was having this kind of argument with a professional serial killer. One who was apparently going to drive him to the hospital, and cure his encephalitis so that they could go to Minnesota and catch a serial killer together. It was completely mental, and very much happening.

“Who will you tell? Who can you tell that would be remain safe from me? Now that I know you exist.” Hannibal smiled, too content for Will’s liking. “Do you really want to lose everything and everyone you know and love for the sake of being right about me?”

“I should...” Will tried. He did.

“You’re not a murderer, Will,” Hannibal drank his coffee, awake and inspired and thinking deep for what felt like the first time in years. “Not yet.”

“All in due time?”

“Finish your breakfast.”

Chapter Text

“You like them.”

“What’s not to like?” Hannibal gave Will a mild look back. “Nurses are a constantly undervalued resource, founts of frontline experience and practical knowledge. I would take a nurse who has been in the fray of the ER for ten years over most doctors, and I have.”

The hospital was awful, as per usual, but it was a brisk business for once, Hannibal returning to John Hopkins like he were long lost royalty. Will knew that he was showing off, but if it got Will out of here any faster, he was just fine with all the pageantry as long as it came with all the perks

Dr. Suitcliffe was an arrogant prick, but knew his business. Will could tell that the man also wanted to eat a meal at Hannibal’s table. They were going to get in and out astonishingly quick because of it with plenty of time to catch they’re 5pm flight to Minnesota.

Which was most definitely first class. Will couldn’t see Hannibal renting a room at a Motel 6, just like he couldn’t imagine him flying economy. Their future hotel stay was promising to be obscene in the best ways possible. Will knew he wouldn’t be the slightest bit surprised if Hannibal made the FBI pay for all of it. Not that Hannibal couldn’t afford it, more like he would take a sadist joy from doing so.

When Will thought about it, the FBI paying for the Chesapeake Ripper’s travel expenses was kind of funny in a really twisted way. Will worried that he might be picking up Hannibal’s sense of humor. Next he would be making puns.

As expected, first class was wonderful, ruining flying forever for Will. Their rental car was a Tesla. Hannibal continued to not disappoint. Will made no remark about it. It was 40 degrees out, and the Tesla had heated memory foam seats.

“You’re so weird.” Will sighed. Hannibal was obviously having the time of his life, radiating a smug happiness that’s was practically tangible to anyone even without Will’s gift and skills.

“I’m much weirder than you’ll ever be. It’s perfectly fine to be weird, my dear Will.” Hannibal replied, completely unbothered by the assessment.

“You’re version of weird is...complicated.” Will said as he watched the scenery fly by.

“It doesn’t have to be.” Hannibal said not unkindly.

“What is this?” Will finally asked. While he was grateful to still be alive, and not deconstructed into an elaborate art project, the Chesapeake Ripper kept defying his every expectation. So far all the infamous killer had done to him was feed Will, gotten the empath to sleep well for the first time in what felt like forever, and he even saved Will’s life with an improbable diagnosis for which he got immediate treatment.

“What do you want it to be?”

“Oh, I have a say now?” Will mocked as much as he thought he could get away with, and still get to keep his organs intact. “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, it isn’t sustainable.”

“You would presume to know what I am thinking?” Hannibal looked amused.

“It’s how I keep the lights on, and put food on the table.” Will shrugged. It was the truth, but he took no pride in it.

“Tell me what I am thinking then.”

“You won’t like it. No one does.”

“Once again, you’re presuming.” Hannibal pointing out. While they were stopped by a train, Will looked Hannibal in those strange maroon eyes of his, and let his ability roam free and unfettered, the empath letting go of his reigns.

“You’ve found a fascinating, shiny, new toy, someone interesting you can wind up, watch them go. This is an opportunity for you to be not only seen, but understood as well.” Will intoned in his intense profiler voice before letting it go lighter to tease. “How I am doing so far?”

“You’re not wrong. Please continue.”

“You’ll keep me alive as long as I’m entertaining. When I lose that capability, I’ll be what’s for dinner. The extent and intricacy of my corpse’s presentation will be based on my entertainment value. Does that sound about right to you?

“Anything else?” Hannibal came off as more bored than impressed by that assessment. He definitely had an air of ‘tell me something I don’t know’ about him.

“You’re lonely.” Will went for the metaphorical jugular. That declaration made Hannibal grow still, which Will was discovering was his version of a flinch.

“I have friends.” Hannibal said after a moment.

“No, you don’t.” Will said easily with a smile, twisting the knife. It was a little thing, but it slid right past a chink in Hannibal’s person suit. “Not really anyway. You have people you are friendly with, and you may even enjoy their company, but it’s nothing that you’d miss in the long term if anyone left, or if you made them leave. They don’t see you. They see the person suit you’ve so meticulously constructed so they don’t notice what lies beneath. You are isolated in your dark depths.”

“You’re just as isolated.” Hannibal quietly said back.

“I know. I accepted that I would be a very long time ago.” Will admitted, “Just because I can understand you, it doesn’t mean I’m willing to do what you do.”

“Yet.” Hannibal’s smile returned. Will decided it was best if he were quiet, studying the scenery that whisked by.

Minnesota was getting ready to get real cold, the weather greying everything. Jack being there made it more dismal.

“We’ve kept the scene fresh for you.” Jack said like it was a gift.

“Fresh as a daisy?” Will answered warily, seeing the excitement around Jack’s edges. Hannibal saw him as a toy. Jack viewed him as a tool.

“Come with me. Her parents are in the kitchen.”

“Are you trying to force me into being sociable?”

“I trying to figure this all out before another girl goes missing.” Jack breaking out the tone of voice that arguing was not an option.

As soon as they entered the dining room, Will made it point to turn his back on the grieving parents seated at the table. He studied family pictures of the deceased instead. He could feel Jack’s glare on his back. He also noticed Hannibal’s amusement as he passed by the profiler to offer eloquently worded condolences to the parents.

Jack didn’t understand what he did, what Will was capable of. His gift wasn’t with the living. If he talked to the parents, all it would do was make things more difficult for Will. Jack, like everyone else, forgot that he could empathize with anyone, not just killers. Absorbing their grief from the loss of a child would be not only a distraction, but also a hindrance. There was only so much room in Will’s head, and he needed to save the space for Elise and her killer.

“How’s the cat?” Will asked before this all became too much, the parent’s tired sad voices grating on him.

“What?”

“How’s your cat? E-Elise was supposed to feed it. Was the cat acting weird when you came home?” Will pressed on, ignoring Hannibal’s subtle look of fascination.

“He’s right. It would been hungry if it hadn’t eaten all weekend.” Hannibal said, already pouncing on the empath’s line of thought.

“I...I didn’t notice.” Mr. Nichols responded, obviously confused. Will exchanged looks with Hannibal and Jack.

“Could you give us a moment please?” Jack said, gesturing them away, and then close.

“She wasn’t just left here. She was taken from here as well. She got on a train. She came home. She fed the cat. He took her from here. He knew where she lived from the beginning.” Will said without a shadow of a doubt. “I think it’s time I see what we’re dealing with.”

“We’re changing the course of this investigation.“ Jack put the call in. “Where’s Zeller, Katz, and Jimmy Price?”

“We’re up here!” Called a female voice from the second story.

“You’re not supposed to be in here.” Jack said in greeting to the two white men and the asian woman who were processing the body. Jack made quick introductions, or at least tried to.

“You’re Will Graham.” Beverly Katz sounded impressed, enough so that it made the two others stare the empath down. “You wrote the standard monograph on the time of death by insect activity.”

“Mant and Nuorteva in Cesare George Tedeschi's own essay on the topic is better on insects.” Will mumbled.

“You, um, not real FBI?” Katz asked.

“I’m a special investor.” Will tried, the title sticking in his throat from its lack of weight.

“Never been an FBI agent?” Katz was very direct. Will didn’t know yet if he would like that about her.

“Um...strict screening procedures.”

“Detects instability.” Oddly, Katz didn’t seem too bothered by that. It was a nice break from the norm. “You unstable?”

“That’s enough.” Jack snapped.

“I’ve found deer velvet in two of wounds, like she was gored.” Katz switched gears with an ease that made Will envious. “I was looking for more in the other wounds.”

“Hold on, excuse me! Look, deer and elk pin their prey, ok?“ Zeller fussed, “They put all their weight into those antlers to try to suffocate a victim. That’s how they would kill like a fox or a coyote.”

“Actually, I would say she was mounted.” Hannibal assessed, earning him an impressed look from Price.

“Well, yeah.” Brian, “who are you?”

“I am Doctor Hannibal Lecter. I used to be an surgeon at John Hopkins.

“What do you do now?” Price asked.

“I’m a psychiatrist.”

“Woah, is he why the shrink is here?” Brian said, pointing back and forth between them.

“Will is a colleague, not my patient. Like him, I have been brought in as a consultant due to our specialties in our various fields of work. Will is here to tell us how this killer is thinking. I am here to tell you the why behind it.” Hannibal covered smooth as silk, quietly impressing Jack. Will had to give it to him. Hannibal was one hell of a liar, and had just further worked his way into this investigation with little to no effort on his part.

“Enough! Everyone out!” Jack shouted this time, fed up with introductions and exchanges. The rest filed out, leaving Jack, Hannibal, and Will with the dead girl who looked like she was still sleeping.

“When you’re ready to talk. talk. If you don’t want to talk, you don’t talk.” Was Jack’s version of reassuring. They all knew it was a boldfaced lie.

“You coming?” To Hannibal

“I’d like to stay with Will to observe,” Hannibal said, unsurprisingly, “If he is comfortable with that.”

“What I do isn’t comfortable.” Will barely kept his eyes from rolling in time. “Just stay quiet and don’t interrupt, no matter what happens.”

Swipe swipe swipe

Will came out of his reconstruction gasping for air, feeling the sweat drench his shirt, drip down his spine to soak into his underwear. He practically jumped out of his skin to find Hannibal standing very close to him. Their noses were practically touching.

“What are you doing?” Will gasped out, trembling.

“Observing. Did you know you smell different when you go under?” Hannibal said, leaning in to close the distance as he titled his head. Will was unable to keep from flinching as the cannibal licked some of the sweat off of his upper lip.

“It’s called sweat.” Will rasped out as Hannibal finally drew away from him. The look on this face could only be called sublime, like Will’s sweat was the finest sip of wine he’d ever had.

“No, it’s much more complex than that.” Hannibal smiled. The expression was not comforting in any sense of the word.

“Good to know?” Will was unsure what to do with that information, but it made Hannibal look happy for some reason. Will decided not to dwell on it as he signaled Jack to reenter the room.

“She died here. He choked the life out of her while she slept. He took her to his safe space, but then found something wrong with her so he put her back.” Will said, his hands clenching and unclenching. He could still feel the softness of her skin, what it had felt like to crush her windpipe, the give of it. “They’ll find something of him on her.”

“Like what? What made her different from
the rest? Is she the golden ticket?” Jack was relentless, a dog trying to chew through this bone.

“I don’t know, Jack! This isn’t a magic trick. I have to have some sort of evidence to build upon.” Will finally snapped, tired and in pain, both physical and mental. “The most I can tell you is that this feels like an apology.”

“An apology?”

“They found antler velvet in the wounds?”

“Yes.”

“I believe he put it there on purpose. Antler velvet has been known to promote healing. He was trying to undo as much as he could, even though she was already dead.” Will said, getting more tired with every word. They would have to go to the hotel after this. Will felt carved out and too full all at once. He needed a long hot shower, and to not be around people for a while. He missed his dogs. “If he had access to antler velvet, I believe it would be safe to say that he’s either a hunter, an avid one, or someone who provides services to hunters like a taxidermist. He has a second location, probably a cabin somewhere.”

“It’s a start.” Jack huffed as he left so the team could come collect the dead girl from her bed.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Will whispered. Hannibal was looking at him like he was the most enchanting thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Immensely.”

Chapter Text

Jack ambushed him as soon as Will stepped outside.

“Do you respect my judgement, Will?” So dramatic, so intense, and so why the empath had wanted nothing to do with the man.

“Mm-Hmm, yes.” Was what Will went with.

“I believe that we’ll stand a better chance of catching this guy with you in the saddle.” Jack said like there wasn’t a team of experts also working this case.

“I’m in the saddle. I’m, um, just confused what direction I’m being pointed.” Will sighed, “I don’t know this kind of psychopath. Have never read anything about him. I don’t know if he’s even a psychopath. He’s not insensitive. He’s not shallow.”

“You know something about him. Otherwise you wouldn’t have said ‘this feels like an apology.“ Because, of course, that’s what Jack would focus on. “What is he apologizing for?

“He feels bad. He couldn’t honor her.” Will tried to make Jack understand. He just wanted to sit down, and have a moment to himself. The killer was still so fresh in his mind. Will could still feel how Elise died vicariously through his hands, still felt her last breath kiss his face.

“Feeling bad defeats the purpose of being a psychopath, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does.”

“He’s going to take another if you don’t figure him out.”

I know.”

I need to know what kind of killer he is.

I don’t know!

“What kind of crazy he is?!“ Jack’s voice boomed, making all heads turn to stare at them if they weren’t already. Hands beginning to shake, Will wanted to curl in on himself, and never come out again.

And then something miraculous happened. Will was taken out of the line of fire, and gently moved to stand behind Hannibal.

“That’s enough, Jack. You won’t be able to get anything more out of Will today.” Hannibal said, somehow managing to sound soothing and yet still authoritative all at once. Will wondered if it was a skill acquired from working in the ER.

“But-“ Jack tried to be cut off.

“Considering that he is still recovering from encephalitis and should be a hospital, and not at a crime scene, I really must insist,” Hannibal could also make his words carry. Jack was like a thunderclap while Hannibal was like tsunami. You didn’t notice, or know what was going on with a good stretch of beach until it was too late. “Or would you prefer I call Doctor Bloom, and get her involved as well.”

“No, that won’t be necessary.“ Jack finally noticing that everyone else was paying attention to them.

“Excellent. Then we are both in agreement that Will needs some much needed subsistence and a lot of rest.” Hannibal announced before leaning in slightly to Jack to speak in a more normal tone. “I believe I can help our dear Will to see this killer.”

“I’ll leave him in your capable hands then, Doctor.”

If Will hadn’t so stunned by the sudden reprieve, he would have laughed. As it was, his hands were noticeably shaking, his head hurt, and the thought of saying another word to anyone made Will feel nauseous. The empath let himself dissociate, allowing Hannibal to lead him back to the car with his hand at the small of the empath’s back, Hannibal even going so far to buckle him in. He ignored Jack and the rest staring at them both as he did so, Will vaguely wondering how it came across to any of them.

Staring out the window, but not really seeing anything that passed by, Will listened to the classical music Hannibal put on for them. It seemed he was in the mood for Vivaldi today.

“You like touching me.” Got an actual laugh from Hannibal.

“Coming from anyone else, I might consider that a vain remark.” He sounded pleased, Will still looking out the window. He didn’t care much for Minnesota. He preferred warmer places on the water. “You are exquisite, my dear Will. One would have to be blind to not feel joy touching you.”

“You don’t like touching people that way. At the very least, you consider it vulgar. At the most, necessary or tactically advantageous.” Will mulled it over, feeling the killer nesting in his head being kicked out so that the killer with him could roost.

“Very true, but you’re different.” Of course, Hannibal was delighted by that assessment, amusing Will enough to look over at him.

“Not as different as you.”

“That remains to be seen, I believe.“

I don’t suppose we could agree to disagree.”

Hannibal just smiled like Will had made a clever joke. They drove for another ten or so minutes, Will realizing that they were in a suburban setting, the neighborhoods getting nicer and nicer with every passing moment. They pulled into a winding driveway, arriving at a very beautiful, obviously expensive house, a terribly modern ordeal of glass and steel.

“You rented a house.” Will didn’t know why these sort of things shocked him anymore. It was only marginally smaller than Hannibal’s home, but not by much.

“More like borrowed. This property belongs to a former patient of mine.” Hannibal pointed out as he let them in. “Duluth isn’t known for its finer accommodations.”

“Imagine that.”

“This was more up to my standards.” Hannibal said as he looked around, nodding with satisfaction at the luxurious decor.

“Seems a little overboard, is all,“ Will said before he could stop himself. It came out rather intimate sounding. “For just the two of us, especially if you’re going to insist we share a bed again.”

“I prefer to prepare my own food whenever possible so a full kitchen is required for that. I also enjoy being comfortable. I’d like you to be that as well.”

“Yeah, I’ll fit right in.” Will said dryly as he surveyed a house full of marble, crystal, rare hardwood floors, and obviously original art. He put his hands in his pockets out of old habit. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“You grew up poor.” Was a statement, not a question.

“You grew up rich.” Sounded more like an accusation than a statement.

“I did, but not for the entire duration of my childhood. After my parents were killed, I lived for many years in an orphanage until my Uncle Roberto came to claim me.”

“Sorry.”

“Why? You didn’t kill them, and before you make any assumptions, neither did I.” Only Hannibal would say something like that with a smile. Will noticed that he smiled a lot around him. The empath wondered if it was because Hannibal didn’t have to be someone he wasn’t around Will. He got to slip out of his person suit for once, and get comfortable. To a lesser extent, Will realized that he was doing the exact same thing as well.

The master bedroom, well, Will assumed it was, was massive. All the bedrooms were big, and beautifully furnished. For all Will knew, Hannibal could have picked it because he liked the bed linens, the theme of the room decorated in blues, grays, and silver with spots of color provided by a wealth of Tiffany glass.

“I’m going to draw you a bath. Shower off while I do.” Hannibal ordered, foiling Will’s plan to claim the bed, and hide from the world for a little while.

“Why would I shower before taking a bath?” Will grumbled, noticing that Hannibal seemed to have no intention of leaving the bathroom, which was fine in the sense they had more than enough room to do so comfortable. In other senses, not so much, Will was too tired to care about modesty.

“I’m not going to allow you to stew in your own filth.”

Ah yes, there are much better ways to prepare me.” Jumping Jacks Jesus, he was already making puns.

“If you mean for a medicinal soak, then yes.” Hannibal not rising to take the bait, more determined to divest himself of his clothing in the quickest way possible without looking like he was so that he join Will in the shower. They didn’t linger there, Hannibal quickly scrubbing both of them down like only a doctor could. The shower was clinical. The bath, not so much.

Groaning, and not caring if Hannibal heard him or not, Will eased himself into the almost too hot water. The bathtub was big enough for two people, and a few of their friends. It had jets, all of which were on full blast, and doing wonderful things to Will lower neck and back.

“You look positively grey around your edges.” Reminded Will that the jets and him were not alone.

“People wear me out. Use me up to the last drop.” Will cracked his eyes back open to find Hannibal consuming him with his stare. He motioned with his hand from Will to turn around.

“Put your arms up to brace yourself. You may rest your head on them.” Was the last thing Will heard for a while other than his own heavy breathing, and occasional groan. It turned out Hannibal had incredibly strong hands, and knew how to give one hell of a massage.

“Tipped out the tea cup, and leave it empty.” Was brought Will back to reality.

“It would be nice if they did. I would like to feel empty for once. No, I get refilled over and over again until my porcelain is permanently stained.” Will grunted as Hannibal worked some knots out of his shoulders. Will hadn’t realized how tense he had gotten, how much he was physically carrying.

“Do you worry about breakage?”

“What is this? therapy?” Will turned his head to arch a brow over his shoulder at the psychiatrist.

“It’s whatever you need it to be.” Hannibal finally leaving off, much to Will’s relief and dismay. He turned to face Hannibal, studying him openly for a moment.

“You don’t have to play coy with me. We both know that you’re at a disadvantage.“

“And what disadvantage would that be?” Hannibal looked intrigued.

You’re as touch starved as I am.” Will used Hannibal’s moment of stillness, his version of being startled, to press their lips softly together before Will sunk back into the bath to watch the fallout from that.

Hannibal blinked. Will marked it down as a point in his favor.

“Would you like me to go on?” Will said as he leaned back against the jets again, the sensation feeling sublime on his freshly massaged muscles.

“I think you should let me give you a shave.” Hannibal recovered.

“Not a fan of facial hair?” Will’s lips quirked into a half smile.

“I am a fan of aesthetics. Yours would be nicer without it.”

“Ah, of course. I’m not going to say no.” Will said, tilting his head in amusement. He settled back against the tub, Hannibal soon returning with more things Will had ever used to shave with, setting up shop behind the empath.

“A straight razor. Why am I not surprised?” Good choice of location though. Easy clean up.” Will said as he let Hannibal fuss over him. After a hot towel, and some creams that smelled nice, but Will had no idea what were for, the killer tilted his head back to place a blade to it.

“I prefer a challenge.” Hannibal said, his words having a breathless quality to them.

“That you do.” Will said, having time to do so. Hannibal cleaned and sharpened the blade after every swipe. He didn’t know if that was necessary, or Hannibal was just trying to have him at his mercy like this for longer. “I imagine you have an elaborate kill room somewhere in your house, spacious and practical. If I was a betting man, I would say, it’s the basement.”

“Oh?” Hannibal dug for compliments.

“You’re very neat and clean, always have been. Easiest way to maintain that in a home is to not have much too distance in your plumbing. Decreases the chance of any evidence getting caught down the line.” Will could give him that. “Have you ever killed anyone at your house?”

He was only met with an amused silence coming from Hannibal in answer. “Ah yes, you have to maintain. Have you ever disinvited anyone from your domain?“ Will corrected.

“It is a rarity, but yes. Most recently, a census taker.”

“What did they do?”

“Persistently rang my doorbell in the early morning hours.”

“You killed someone because they woke you up?” Will choked back a very inappropriate laugh. “Bit of an overreaction, don’t you think for not being able to sleep in?”

“I enjoyed liver that night with fava beans and a big Amarone" Hannibal said offhandedly as he moved to Will’s neck.

“Did you know that in the beginning for their profession, barbers were the surgeons of their day?” Hannibal said as he cut the last bit of hair from Will’s throat, the empath keeping incredibly still as he was left with chilly smooth skin. “You should take a breath before you pass out.”

“Easy thing to forget to do when one has been studying your greatest hits for so long.”

“Have you been getting to know me all this time?” Hannibal looked positively charmed by the notion. “Do you think you’ve learned them all?”

“No, I do not. I think the FBI has barely scratched the surface of what you are.” Will said softly as Hannibal took the opportunity to stroke his hair as he looked over his handiwork.

“Tell me what you think.”

“You won’t like it.” Will promised.

“I thought you were done making presumptions about me.” Hannibal smirked, and that’s what did it, peeved Will off enough to go back into his mind. One of the perks of being alone a lot was that it gave him time to read himself down rabbit holes of information. Hannibal wasn’t the only one here with an eidetic memory.

“You’re Lithuanian.”

“That has already been established.” Hannibal said smoothly, his person suit coming back together seamlessly as he sensed some sort of danger. The shallow undercurrent of emotion that had just rippled beneath it would have been easily missed by anyone else.

“No fond memories there, I’d wager. Dead parents and all.” Will said, his tone lazy, his smile sweet.

“You would be correct. Very few and far between.” Hannibal remain unfazed. If anything, he looked disappointed, the smug bastard. He’d already lost this round, and didn’t know yet.

“That must be so frustrating. To have all that artistic ability and deep appreciation for the arts, but have the deep seated inability to create anything original, or of any personal merit.” Will leaned in to whisper, changing directions like the wind. “You’re mimic at best, and deep down, you know it.”

“I told you that you wouldn’t like it.” Will said with a dead calm as hands rushed, his head suddenly pulled back sharply with razor pressed to it. He cut his own throat, just a little bit on it, from laughing. “You’d be better off slitting my wrists though. Not many suicides can pull off cutting their own throats. It might raise a few eyebrows if you did it the way you want, pretty as I would look with a second mouth, the secret one that catches killers.”

The grip on his hair gentled immediately, Hannibal resuming his task like everything was perfectly normal between them. Or he did until Hannibal leaned in to suck on the knick he made on Will’s Adam apple.

“You are beautiful enough as you are.” Hannibal placed the word at Will’s throat, giving the wound one final lick. “No need for improvement.”

“My, my. What big teeth you have.” Will grinned wolfishly, hating to admit to himself that he felt so alive in this moment with this monster wearing human skin.

“All the better to eat you up.” Hannibal flashed his own teeth as he offered his hand to help Will out of the bath, even going so far as to towel him off. He lead the empath to the bed, finally allowing Will to fall face first into it. Hannibal made no motions to join him though, getting dressed instead.

“Where are you going?” Will made it almost understandable through the pillow.

“We need some ingredients for dinner. I trust you’ll want to stay here?” Hannibal asked, like Will planned on moving from that spot anytime soon.

Will mumbled something out that was barely intelligible before slipping into a deep sleep. He woke up not knowing where he was, who he was, or what year it was, but something smelled amazing so he decided to stay awake to remember . He’d never been much of a napper, but apparently, he could be put down like a dead man with a hot bath and a massage. Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Will followed his nose to the source.

“Excellent. I just coming to wake you.” Hannibal greeted, making whatever it was cooking in the pan catch fire. He pan flipped it with ease before extinguishing.

Dinner was lung. Will had never had lung before. The texture of it was...interesting, kinda spongy, almost rubbery. Will couldn’t make up his mind if he liked it or not, but the flavors more than made up for it.

“Do you like it? You didn’t appear to be too sure of it in the beginning.”

“It’s different, but nice.” Was Will’s assessment, Hannibal beaming at him like he’d just been awarded a Michelin Star.

“I’m glad I was able to expand your palette.”
Hannibal said, “Would you care for more wine?”

“You didn’t happen to get any whiskey did you while you were out?”

“I’m sure we can find some here.”

“Don’t bother. I doubt it will be the cheap stuff. It will be wasted on me. The wine’s fine.” Will shrugged. That earned him a look.

“The wine is hardly cheap.”

“But it’s your wine so I don’t mind drinking it.”

“I don’t consider it wasted on you then.” Hannibal said as he topped them both off, emptying the bottle. “If you’ll excuse me for one moment, I’ll be back with another bottle.”

Will didn’t remember much more after that. Things got twisty and hazy, and not in the usual way. Will vaguely sensed that he was being carried in Hannibal’s arms, undressed, and tucked into bed with Hannibal coming to lay down beside him. He was gently stroking Will’s cheek, and saying something, but then it all went black.

Will’s phone woke him up, Hannibal answering it for him. Enough light was trying and failing to creep into the room. It was either dawn, or just another grey day in Minnesota.

His head was pounding, but it was also muddled, and muddled in a way that any hardcore insomniac knows. The sleepless all have that breaking point where they would try a wide range of sedatives in unhealthy doses. Will lay there for a while, holding his aching cotton filled head.

“You drugged me.” Will glared up at Hannibal who had somehow already managed to get ready for the day.

“It was only a mild sedative. You needed the rest.” Hannibal said lightly, pressing a cup of coffee into the empath’s hands.

“You can’t go around drugging me whenever you want.” Will grumbled as Hannibal handed him the drugs needed to help cure his encephalitis, and for his headache.

“I am a doctor, and I happen to care about your well being.” Hannibal said, “Would you have take it if I told you it was a sedative?”

“No.” Will finally admitted, but only because the coffee was so good that made him want to start believing in a higher power. It was a short living sensation as they pulled up to the crime scene.

It soon became very apparent why Hannibal had drugged him. Will wondered where in the hell the Chesapeake Ripper had gotten a stag’s head in such short notice to mount the body on.

Her lungs had been ripped out while she was still using them.

“You know I love a challenge.”

Chapter Text

“Field kabuki.”

And it was. Petulant to its core, the killer wanted to publicly shame the young woman mounted on the deer’s antlers. Zeller waved away the crows from her, though it was a thankless task. The murder huddled close to the corpse, ready at any given moment to take the secrets from her eyes.

“I can’t tell whether it’s sloppy or shrewd.” Jack said as he studied the girl.

“He wanted her found this way.” Will circled, his fists clenching and unclenching while he orbited the scene. He was doing everything he could not to look over at Hannibal. Will didn’t like feeling powerless so he resisted the only way he could. “It’s...it’s petulant.” He spit out.

“Does it feel like he’s mocking her, or mocking his would-be captors?” Hannibal voiced, making heads turned. Jack looked the least unhappiest about the notion as all considered this. Meanwhile, Hannibal was happy murder duckling.

“What kind of crazy is he?” Jack asked, turning back on Will, much to the empath’s dismay. “Why did he do this?”

“No, I don’t think he did.” Will had a very distinct feeling about who it actually was. He would ask her killer about it tonight over dinner.

“How do you know?” Jack challenged, staring the profiler down. Will wasn’t looking at him though. He was looking at the girl with a strange dawning look on his face.

“Our killer loves these girls.” Will realized.

“He loves them?” Jack said in disbelief. “Where did all his love go then?”

“He couldn’t show Elise Nichols he loved her so he put her corpse back where he killed it. He’s whatever crazy that is.” Will’s mind drawing the parallels between the two girls to cast them in spectrums of black and white to where they linked in the grey. They were so alike, and yet so vastly different.

“C’mon, you actually think he loves these girls?” Zeller scoffed.

“He loves one of them.” Will wasn’t up for anyone’s bullshit today. If Zeller wanted to show his ass at work, Will was more than willing to be the one who smacks it red. “And-and yes, I think by association, he has some form of love for the others.”

“But there was no semen, sweat, or saliva anywhere on her body.” Beverly piped up.

“Elise Nichols died a virgin. She stayed that way.” Zeller said smugly, setting Will off.

“That’s not how he’s loving them! He wouldn’t disparage them that way!” Will yelled, making everyone edge away from him, not in a good way.

All except Hannibal, of course. Will’s daddy would have said that the foreigner in the ugly plaid suit was tickled pink by all the commotions happening here on this day.

“He doesn’t want these girls to suffer. He kills them quickly, and...to his thinking, with mercy.” Will finished to glare at everyone in the field.

“A sensitive psychopath.” Jack voiced in disbelief for everyone.

“Wait a moment, he risked getting caught so he could what? Tuck Elise Nichols back into bed because he felt bad?” Price asked, trying to wrap his head around that.

“That would appear to be the long and short of it.” Hannibal said pleasantly, He will feel compelled to take the next girl soon because he is aware now that he will soon be caught.”

“One way, or the other.” Will gritted out, “Do we have an autopsy report yet on Elise Nichols?”

“Fresh off the press.” Jimmy said as he handed over a copy to Will, the empath quickly absorbing the information. He ignored Hannibal reading over his shoulder.

“We tried her skin for prints. Of course, nothing.” Price sighed in disappointment.

“We did get a hand spread on the neck though.” Zeller said as the techs flocked to the profiler. “The fingernails were smudged when we took the scrapings. The scrapings were from her own palms, where she scratched them. She never scratched him.”

“Piece of metal is all we got.” Beverly added. Will wasn’t looking at her though, or anyone else for that matter, as he stared off into the distance.

“Her liver was removed. He took it out to sew it back in.” Hannibal’s lips brushed by Will’s ear to secret say, “She had liver cancer.”

“There was something wrong with the meat.” Will said softly, “I was right, Jack. He’s, um...he’s eating them.”

It was all so clear to him now, Hannibal’s gift wrapped crime scene providing an intaglio so that Will could see their killer’s cameo in stark relief.

“Our cannibal loves women. He doesn’t want to destroy them. He wants to consume them, to keep some part of them inside.” Will said with conviction and fire, pointing to the corpse. “This girl’s killer thought she was a pig.”

“You think this is a copycat?” Jack did not look pleased about that possibility.

“A mimic? Oh, yes.” Will felt Hannibal stiffen behind him. “The cannibal who killed Elise Nichols had a place to do it, and no interest in field kabuki. So, he has a house, or two, or a-a cabin, something with an antler room. We should be looking at plumbers and steam fitters. He has a daughter. The same age as the other girls, same-same hair color, same eye color, same height, same weight. She’s an only child. She’s leaving home. He can’t stand the thought of losing her.”

It was then Will realized that all eyes were on him, he had everyone’s attention. It made Will want to curl in on himself.

“She’s your golden ticket.” Will finished, suddenly exhausted.

“What about the copycat?” Jack asked, head still spinning by what Will could do. He, and everyone else, didn’t realize how much of a loaded question that was.

Oh, what to do, what to do, Will hummed to himself. He decided to be somewhat honest about it.

“You know, an intelligent psychopath, particularly a sadist is very hard to catch. There’s no traceable motive. There’ll be no patterns. They may never kill this way again.” Will threw the words over his shoulder as he stalked off.

“Where are you going?“ Jack called after him when it became apparent that Will had every intention of leaving the crime scene.

“Going to go check out some plumbers.” Will waved the autopsy report which had a list of construction sites that were using the same pipe, and the same pipe threader. “Have Doctor Lecter draw up a psychological profile for you since you seem so impressed with his opinions.”

Will was all huff and puff until he got to the fancy rental car, and then realized that he didn’t have the keys. Unwilling to walk back, Will waited by the car. As expected, Hannibal eventually emerged from the field.

“Where’s Jack?” Will bit out.

“The adventure is yours and mine today. It was my opinion that Jack give you some space for now.” Hannibal said, looking quite pleased with himself as he opened the car door for Will. “He respected that assessment.”

“Of course, he did.” Will seethed. Stupid. That little outburst would cost him dearly in the long run. Now, the team saw him as unstable, and Hannibal as his rock of stability. Getting anyone to believe him that the good doctor was the Chesapeake Ripper just became that much harder, and they both knew it. “You killed someone because I gave you a bad critique?”

“I promised Jack that I would help you see this killer. I always do my best to keep my word.” Hannibal said, receiving a flat ‘cut the bullshit’ look back from Will. “She blew cigarette smoke into my face after I politely reminded her of the area’s nonsmoking policy.”

“Well, why didn’t you start with that? What a completely valid reason for torturing and murdering someone.” Will snapped. He dearly wanted to throw something at Hannibal’s head, but thought the better of it.

“Secondhand smoke kills. There is no safe level of exposure to it, Will.” Hannibal said with a look of reproach.

“Just drive. Please.” Will tacked some politeness onto the end in time, but it also gave him some food for thought. He thought it over, turning it round and round in his head before his curiosity got the better of him.

“Why haven’t you killed me?” Will asked, pressing on when he didn’t get an answer. “You despise the rude.”

“Your point?”

“I’m not exactly a polite person.”

“Your fear makes you rude, my dear Will.” Hannibal said, “One shouldn’t be punished for an involuntary response. Unlike most, you know the lion is in the room, and you’re handling the situation the only way you know how instead of panicking.”

“Oh, there is plenty of panic.”

“For now.” Sounded like a promise, one that Will tried not to think about.

“What are you smiling about?” Will asked, Hannibal’s practically gleeful expression irking him.

“Peeking behind the curtain.” Hannibal said, looking almost giddy about it. “I’m just curious how the FBI goes about its business when it’s not kicking in door.”

“You’re lucky we’re not doing house to house interviews.” Will pointed out as they pulled up to the first location.

“Is that as tedious as it sounds?”

“It’s not all kicking in doors.” Will said as he looked over the team’s findings. “The little piece of metal found in Elise Nichols clothing was a shred from a pipe threader.”

“There must be hundreds of construction sites all over Minnesota.”

“A certain kind of metal, a certain kind of pipe, a certain type of pipe coating,” Will explained, falling into teacher mode before he knew it. “So we’re only checking construction sites that meet all three criteria.”

“What are we looking for?”

“At this stage, anything really,” Will shrugged, “But mostly, anything peculiar.”

Dixie wasn’t the most helpful secretary Will had ever had to deal with, but she did give them free reign over the office records with minimal fuss while she made calls, presumably to her boss.

“Garrett Jacob Hobbs?” Will asked as something peculiar caught his attention.

“He’s one of our pipe threaders. Those are all the resignation letters. Plumbers’ Union requires ‘em whenever members finish a job.” Dixie told them, returning to her phone call. “I’ll call you right back.”

“Uh, does Mr. Hobbs have a daughter?” Will asked, sensing Hannibal to stand too close behind him.

“Might have.” Dixie generously answered, making Will grit his back teeth in frustration.

“She’d be 18 or 19, wind chafed, uh, plain but pretty, about this tall.” Will pressed, leveling his hand to said proper height.

“Maybe. I don’t keep company with these people.” Dixie unhelpfully offered up.

“Would you be so kind to go and get us his full information then?” Hannibal asked, polite as ever, but there was definitely a nudge there in his tone that made her leave. “What is it about Garret Jacob Hobbs that make him so peculiar?

“He left a phone number, no address.”

“And therefore, he has something to hide?”

“The others all left addresses. He’s also missed work for days at a time.”

Just to be thorough, they ended up with several boxes. Dixie even took it upon herself to help them carry them out, though a stack of them slid to the ground as Hannibal handed them off to her from the stairs.

“I got it.” Will said so Hannibal didn’t have to go all the way down the ramp and around. Something in Will’s head was nagging at him though, slamming into the sides of his skull to try and get his attention.

Will sprang to his feet, rushing into the office in time to hear the end of a conversation.

“They know.” Hannibal told Garrett Jacob Hobbs as he held the phone away from him with a tissue covered hand.

“What have you done?” Will hissed, getting only a mild look back.

“I simply made a courtesy call.” Hannibal said with that thin smile of his.

“But why?” Will wanted to scream. He wanted to punch Hannibal in his smug face, his hands trembling from that desire. He closed his eyes in an effort to control himself.

“Why do you think?” Hannibal said, closer than before, too close. Will just knew he was being scented again. He wondered what his anger smelled like to Hannibal.

“You want to see what he’ll do.” Will sagged under the realization. It really was as simple as that as he got out his phone to call Jack. He rattled off Hobb’s address with minimal explanation, telling him to hurry. 911 was called next.

“C’mon. Let’s go see what you’ve done.” Will sighed. Unbothered, Hannibal opened the car door for him

“What about these files?” Dixie called after them.

“Thank you for your assistance, but they won’t be needed any longer.” Hannibal told the very put out secretary.

“Let’s go!”

“Have a wonderful rest of your day.” Hannibal said in parting, finally deigning to let them leave. They arrived to chaos, police and medical personal already there. Jack and the team were as well.

“What happened?” Will asked upon seeing what could only be Mrs. Hobbs dead on her doorstep. Her throat had been cut.

“Turns out you were right.” Jack didn’t look happy about that though. “The police arrived in time to see Garrett Jacob Hobbs shove his dying wife out the door. He went after his daughter, Abigail Hobbs, next, but the police put 10 or more bullets into his back before he could get to her. That’s Abigail over there.”

In the back of an ambulance, a girl who looked like all the dead girl huddled under an orange shock blanket, staring blankly off into the distance.

“You don’t sound particularly pleased about it.” Hannibal pointed out.

“We’re still going through the house, but we’ve still got a whole lot of nothing to go on about the missing girls, and now Hobbs is dead.”

“His daughter isn’t.” Will said, his voice quietly thoughtful. It got Jack’s attention. Hannibal’s too, but he didn’t count. His attention never really wavered when it came to Will.

“What are you thinking?”

“That she might have been helping him.” Will was thinking that there was someone alive who could identity Hannibal as the spark that set this wildfire of a situation ablaze. “They were very close. Hobbs was a doting father.”

“And you think she was dutiful daughter by being what?” Jack finished for him. “Did she just pick out the girls, or did she help kill with Hobbs?”

“Not sure, but I do believe she’s a survivor.” Will needed to figure out how to keep Abigail alive. With exception to him, and Will was sure even that had an expiration date, the Chesapeake Ripper wouldn’t risk a witness, or anything that could lead back to him. Abigail would have been better off dying by her father’s hands. At the very least, Hobbs would have made sure it was quick.

“She is also quite obviously in shock.” Hannibal observed, “Jack, might I suggest Alana Bloom? She specializes in juvenile trauma.”

“She has a soft touch with those she sees as broken.” Will said, hating how wistful he sounded. Hannibal didn’t look too thrilled about it either.

“Doctor Bloom would be a good fit.” Jack said with a nod as he got out his phone. “I’ll let you know which hospital they send her to. I want the two of you to talk to her first thing tomorrow morning. Go rest, and get some sleep.”

“What about the rest of us?” Zeller asked.

“I want everyone else to find me those girls. Do whatever you need to. I want the corners of that house put under a microscope.”

“You had to go and say something, didn’t you?” Price grumbled.

“Quit complaining.” Beverly good naturally told them. “We got a lot to go through.”

The drive back was quiet, both men keeping company with their own thoughts.

“Are you going to kill her?” Will broke the silence first.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Hannibal said, “Will you try to stop me if I do?”

“I’ll do my best.” Was all Will could do. He had already failed Cassie Boyle in that regard. “You know that you’re the end game for Jack.”

“Oh?”

“It’s why he keeps hounding me to join his team. He wants to catch the Chesapeake Ripper. He was planning on using me to do it.”

“And are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Going to catch the Ripper?”

“I don’t know how to answer that. I have no idea if you’re being serious or not.” Will said after staring at Hannibal for a long quiet moments

“I think you should join Jack’s team.”

“Why would I do that? Looking isn’t healthy for me. He knows that. I know that. You definitely know that.” Will stared Hannibal down until the ‘why’ came to him.

“I think you should try to catch me.” The Chesapeake Ripper said with honest-to-goodness twinkle in his eyes.

“I’m not joining up for your own personal entertainment.” Will said, ready to dig his heels in.

“I won’t kill Abigail if you do.” Hannibal smiled. They both knew that he had already won this round, the profiler turning to glare out the window.

Just once, just fucking once, Will really wanted to punch Hannibal in the face.

Chapter Text

“Tasteless.”

Hannibal looked up to find Will glaring at his tablet, the face of which featured Fred Lounds’s latest article, the one featuring Elise Nichols and Cassie Boyle.

“Do you have trouble with taste?” Hannibal asked. Will had been restless since they got back. He’d speak when spoken too, but that was about it. Dinner had been a quiet affair, though Hannibal was pleasantly surprised that Will still willingly eat anything the cannibal put in front of him. He must have grown up too poor not to.

Hannibal supposed that they were back in real speaking terms again. Getting such a response meant Will loathed this person more than he disliked Hannibal at the moment. Interesting.

“My thoughts are often not tasty.” Will had a knack for wordplay, something that Hannibal appreciated.

“Nor mine.” Got a snort of laughter from Will so Hannibal continued, “No effective barriers.”

“I build forts.” Will said with a sigh as he joined Hannibal on the bed. He still didn’t look or act like he wanted to talk, but Will couldn’t seem to keep away from him either. There were many other bedrooms here. Hannibal had also yet to point out that he had insisted upon sharing a bed that first night. Everything after that had been all Will.

“Associations come quickly.”

“So do forts.” Will grumped as his eyes skittered across Hannibal’s face. The empath looked more conflicted than usual.

“Not fond of eye contact, are you?”

“Eyes are distracting. You see too much, you see too little.” Will forced himself to look his eyes. “And-and it’s hard to focus when you’re thinking, um, “oh, those whites are really white”, or “must have hepatitis”, or “oh, is that a burst vein”.

Extraordinary. Hannibal couldn’t think of anytime in his life where he was more entertained on a near constant basis. Will was so full of fear, but still daring enough to nip at Hannibal’s metaphorical heels like an angry dog.

“So, yeah, I try to avoid eyes whenever possible.” Will said as he pointedly looked away.

“I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled by your dreams.” Hannibal said softly, his voice pitched to something more gentle and soothing. It had the opposite of the desired effect, Will’s body stiffening from the comfort of it.

At first Hannibal was nice to Will because it made the other man so delightfully uncomfortable. Now he appreciated it, reminded of how sunflowers turned their heads to greet the new light of day as Will faced him again. “No forts in the bone arena of your skull for the things you love.”

Hannibal watched as a sea of emotions flooded Will’s beautiful ocean eyes. Anger, surprise, a dash of confusion, but what grabbed Hannibal’s attention was the deep wealth of sadness that pooled there.

Looking away, Will didn’t bother to wipe the tears from his face. Hannibal caught the ones clinging to his shaved chin with his fingertip, placing them to his lips to taste. It was an exquisite bloom of salted sorrow on the tongue.

“I’m sorry, Will. Observing is what we do. I can’t shut mine off anymore than you can shut off yours.” Hannibal said as he leaned in closer to touch their foreheads together.

“Please. Please don’t psychoanalyze me. You won’t like me when you do. Nobody does.” Will whispered, the kind of life he had lived, by choice or circumstance, thus far splayed out at Hannibal’s feet. He was just as lonely and alone as Hannibal, being misused and misunderstood on a near constant basis his entire existence.

“It’s an uncomfortable gift. Perception’s a tool that’s pointed on both ends.” Hannibal slowly caressed Will’s face with his own, almost like a cat would, scent marking. He wanted to smell himself on every inch of the empath.

“It’s not a gift.” Will said, his voice rough with anger mixed with other softer emotions. “Why don’t you just kill me?”

“Do you want to die?” Hannibal drew away enough to look into Will’s complicated eyes.

“No. Of course not.” Which was the truth, but in the stronghold of sadness, not fear for once.

“Then why do you keep asking me to?” Hannibal asked as he couldn’t stop touching Will. He had to know the silk of his skin and the satin of his hair.

“Because it would be better than this.” Will sounded hollow.

“Than what?”

“Than you pretending to like me. That you can be kind. That you enjoy taking care of me, helping me.” Will was withdrawing, closing like a flower before Hannibal. He drew away both physically and mentally. “Just...be a monster.”

‘So I can hate you’ was left unspoken.

“Oh, Will...” Hannibal said as he lunged, catching up Will easily in his arms as they fell against the bed.

Their first real kiss tasted of salt, Hannibal brushing wet trails away as he lightly cupped Will’s face to hold it in place. He doubted anyone had ever made love to such an exquisite person so he decided that he would have to take his time. Hannibal knew he could take Will apart with a gentle softness that the empath didn’t expect, and even worse, thought he was unworthy of.

The kiss left Will trembling, avoiding his gaze when they separated. He was reminded Hannibal of a starving creature left on its own for too long in winter woods. It was like looking into a mirror.

“Enough eyes for now.” Hannibal decided aloud, turning Will to lay him out on his side with his back against Hannibal’s chest.

“What are you-“ Will started to panic until he realized that the only thing Hannibal was doing was holding him, tangling their legs together to get the most bodily contact.

Will grew still for a moment, taking it all in. He started to shake when it became apparent that Hannibal had no intention other than to hold the empath in his arms. Will started to cry when Hannibal placed light kisses to the back of his neck, sobs of being overwhelmed, tears of relief and gratitude. Hannibal held Will all the way through it, until the empath cried himself empty. Until he laid limp in Hannibal’s arms.

Letting go of Will long enough to take off his shirt, Hannibal used it to clean off Will’s face, it having the dual desired effect of wiping away snot while leaving behind his scent. Will allowed it, complacent and compliant when being held against him. Hannibal wondering what that would allow him to do, how far he could take this.

Putting to the test, Hannibal stripped them both down, tucking Will back into place. The empath shuddered again from all the new skin on skin contact, but made no move to leave, or voice complaint. Hannibal rewarded him with one last kiss, just behind his ear.

“Gerai miegok, mano meile.”

Intwined, they both slept like the dead.

Chapter Text

Being woken up by Jack first thing in the morning was unpleasant enough. Him doing it in person while one was naked, and cuddling with a serial killer who was also equally naked set the bar of unpleasantness at a new level.

“Agent Crawford, this is extremely unprofessional.” Because of course Hannibal was completely unfazed and unbothered by someone bursting into the bedroom unannounced to yell at them. Knowing Jack, he had probably already pounded a hole in the door knocking, which would have definitely woken Hannibal up, which meant this was all deliberate staging at this point.

“You weren’t answering your phones.” Jack said, like that made up for everything. His expression was a mix of righteous fury mixed with surprise though as Hannibal sat and Will covered his head with a pillow so that he could regather. “Get dressed.”

“Yes, we know. Go see Abigail at the hospital first thing in the morning.” Will said, reaching out from under his cover to look at his phone. He also noticed that it was uncharacteristically set on silent. He was willing to bet a lot of money that Hannibal’s phone was on the same setting. “Christ, Jack, it’s not even 6am yet.”

“Abigail can wait.” Got both their attention, Will poking his head out.

“Why the sudden change?” Hannibal asked first, getting out of bed to get dressed. Jack looked from him, to Will, and then to the ceiling.

“We just found Hobbs’s antler room. I’ll be downstairs.” Jack said upon finally leaving, Hannibal apparently l taking his time deciding on what to wear in the nude.

“Was that really necessary?” Will growled, throwing a pillow at Hannibal’s head. He caught it without looking, throwing it over his shoulder so it landed back on the bed next to Will who couldn’t decide whether to be infuriated or impressed.

“No, but it was amusing.” Hannibal said, looking downright more cheerful than he had any right to be.

“We’re not leaving without coffee.” Will sighed. The damage had already been done. The odds of Jack believing anything Will had to say about Hannibal being the Chesapeake Ripper without evidence was nonexistent to fuckity nope.

“I going to go take a shower, and I plan on making breakfast as well so take your time.” Hannibal said as he went through his morning rituals.

“You just want to make Jack wait.” Will translated.

“Will, breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I’m a doctor. I would know.” Hannibal said, comparing one ugly tie to another.

“You also wanna feed Jack people.” Will corrected. When he could, Will had looked for where Hannibal was keeping his stash of the other other white meat to no avail.

All Will got for that was a thin smile and a kiss on the forehead. “Go back to sleep. I’ll lock the door.”

Jack’s patience held for around twenty minutes, Will waking again to the sound of him pounding on the bedroom door. Groaning, Will sat up, getting dressed in record time as Hannibal exited the bathroom looking polished and posed as ever for the day.

“Get a move on.” Jack snapped out as soon as Hannibal unlocked and opened the door.

“Unless you plan on kidnapping us, I would invite you to join us for breakfast. Will needs to eat, especially if you are going to have use for him all day.” Hannibal said, a wall of calm in the face of Jack’s impatient storm.

“But-“ Jack started to huff.

“I assume the antler room is stationary. That it is not likely to scamper off while we have coffee.” Hannibal cut him off. “Jack, allow me to ask you a very fair question. Are you listening?

“Alright, yeah. I’m listening.”

“When was the last time you yourself have had a chance to eat a hot, home cooked meal? Something other than tepid coffee?” Hannibal asked, his tone jovial and lightly teasing. The man could be the personification of charm itself when he wanted to be. “I know you’re eager, but it’s not a good enough reason to ignore one’s needs.”

Which was one of the many reasons Hannibal would be so hard to catch. His person suit was practically flawless. People wanted Hannibal to like them, and they wanted to be liked back by him. Case in point, even Jack was affected by him, the hardened agent softening right before Will’s eyes.

“Well, if you’re cooking, I’m not about to turn that down.” Jack settled, “I’ll let the team know we’ll be there soon.”

“A wise decision.” Hannibal said as he set out an outfit, obviously meant for Will, more flannel than plaid.

“Those are yesterday’s clothing. Go shave, and take a shower. You’ll feel better.” Hannibal explained before Will could asked, kissing his temple before taking leave of him. It made Jack’s face do funny things, Will wishing the ground would open him up to swallow him whole.

He was dating the fucking Chesapeake Ripper. Will wondered where his life went wrong to come to this. If he had just turned down Alana’s dinner invite like he did with everyone else, he wouldn’t be here.
Literally, he wouldn’t be here. He could have just kept turning Jack down, taught his class, and go home to his dogs. It wasn’t much of a life, but those had all been his choices.

Will’s brain was a treacherous thing, working for and against him. It also tended to never shut up, the input of information a constant. Today was no exception.

Had all those choices before all this really been his to make? He hid himself from the world because it was barely worth being apart of it. He was alone because he’d never met anyone before who could handle all the evil stored in his head. It’s not like he could talk about work to a ‘normal’ person.

Until now.

Done shaving, Will stared at his reflection. Wide eyes, more blue than grey today, looked back at him. Christ, he looked so young without facial hair. No wonder everyone had been staring at him yesterday. If Hannibal ever let him drink cheap whiskey again, Will just knew someone was going to card him.

Breakfast was some sort of potato hash that probably had some obnoxiously long French name and fanciest Eggs Benedict he’d ever seen, heavy on the Ben. Will wondered what human ham was going to taste like while part of him worshipped the cup of coffee that was placed in his hand.

“Looks nice. Thank you.” Was Will’s assessment. Hannibal was radiant from it though.

“Tastes even better.” Jack was doing his best not to wolf down his food, but Hannibal had been right about him missing out on a couple of meals. “So, should we address the elephant in the room?”

“Or we could politely acknowledge it, and move on. Neither one of us are your employees. Will is not my patient. There is nothing unprofessional, untoward, or inappropriate going on.” Hannibal pointed out.

“You’re right. It’s none of my business, but I like the two of you working together. I’d like to see more of that in the future if I can ever get Will to become a permanent part of my team.”

“If I’m included in that offer, I’m sure I can put in a good word for you, but final decision is all Will’s.”

“We could keep you on retainer.” Jack already started to plan it all out. He would have kept going if Will hadn’t started laughing. Jack and Hannibal looked surprised for very different reasons, Will realized that this was Hannibal’s first time hearing his real laughter, not just a chuckle or a snort of amusement. It was deep belly laughter, and Will couldn’t help it.

Just like that, Dr.Hannibal ‘The Chesapeake Ripper’Lecter was apart of the FBI, a serial killer catching other serial killers including himself because he was bored. It was too ridiculous not to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Jack asked, studying Will with a concerned look.

“Everything, nothing. Just...” Will managed, wiping tears from his eyes to achieve mock seriousness. “If it means so much to, Hannibal, to help the FBI with your investigations then I accept your offer to be part of the team, but I must insist on Hannibal being with me while doing so.”

Oh, and Hannibal liked that, his eyes lighting up when Will said his name so informally. The profiler took note of it.

“But you have to tell, Alana, about it.” Will said, getting up to help Hannibal with the dishes because his daddy raised him right, and they couldn’t possible leave a single dish in the sink before them left. Jack was mollified with another cup of coffee as he pondered how to break the news to Doctor Bloom.

Hannibal washed while Will dried. It was all so terribly domestic, Will trying to remember when last he’d done this with another person that wasn’t his father. He ended up realizing that no one had ever stayed long enough to do the dishes together.

Hannibal was playing ‘house’, the idea of it was oddly endearing to Will. He’d never been given much of a chance to growing up or even being grown now.

It would all end in blood, but a part of Will wondered how long it could last.

Chapter Text

“Could be a permanent installation of your Evil Minds Museum.”

“Well, what we learn from Garret Jacob Hobbs will help us catch the next one like him.” Jack responded to Will’s poking as the three of them looked around the Shrike’s antler room. It was filled to its corners and then some with bleached bones. “There’s still seven bodies unaccounted for.”

“I will remind you, Jack, that Hobbs was consuming them, in every way he could.” Hannibal said, hands behind his back as he strolled through the room like he was at some fancy art gallery. Will tapped down the urge to point out how weird that was.

“Had to be some parts he wasn’t eating.” Jack really wanted to argue about this instead of noticing the predator taking a turn round the room.

“Not necessarily.” Will couldn’t help feeling a little amused. If Jack wanted a lesson about how thorough cannibalism could be, the two leading experts in the world were in the room with him. It earn him a flash of teeth from Hannibal as he too shared in that amusement.

Luckily, Jack shifted gears. “All right, what if Hobbs wasn’t eating alone? It’s a lot of work: disappearing these girls, butchering them, and then, uh, not leaving a shred of anything other than what’s in this room.”

“Is Abigail Hobbs really a suspect?” Hannibal asked. There was something...something there in his tone that Will just didn’t like. He couldn’t exactly place his finger on what it was though.

“She went hunting with Hobb’s often enough to make me consider it.“ Jack said, “We’ve been conducting house to house interviews at the Hobbs’ residence, and, uh, at this property.”

“I would believe it’s safe to assume then that he spent a great deal of time collecting all these trophies with his daughter.” Hannibal sounded thoughtful about it.

“You see why I consider her a suspect?” Jack grimaced at where Elise Nichols has been bled out.

“I understand completely, but we also must not condone Abigail for what her father did without evidence, especially if she turns out to be another innocent victim of Hobbs.”

It was a very compassionate thing to say. It instantly put Will on edge. Hannibal was up to something, and had to do with Abigail. The profiler wondered what the Ripper’s angle would be in all this.

“She would make the ideal bait.” Will said as neutrally as possible, both men turning in time to see Will reaching for something. It glinted bright red in the light’s shine as Will examined it.

“Ah, someone else was here.”

Fucking Freddie ‘May she rot in Hell’ Lounds.

Will was still pissed about it by the time they got back to the mini mansion. The Shrike’s antler room was all over TattleCrime thank to her contaminating an active crime scene.

“Something‘s been bothering me.” Will said as he watched Hannibal prepare ingredients for their dinner later on. They had some time between the antler room and going to see Abigail. Alana was there at the hospital to meet with her first. She was going to debrief them over dinner when she was done before they took their own crack at her.

Much to the profiler’s relief, it looked like quail was to be the main course, but Will didn’t put it past Hannibal to sneak in a dash of human somewhere. For all he knew, the cannibal kept a pepper grinder of dried offal to season anything normal with people on the fly.

“Something has been bothering you more than usual?” Hannibal asked lightly as he finished peeling his potatoes, which were a funny yellow color to Will. He decided to focus on what had been nagging at him instead of inquiring about the tuber’s origins.

“You work alone so how did you manage to drape Cassie Boyle’s body like that over the stag’s head? It was done flawlessly, all in one go.” Will could give him that much. Mimic or not, Hannibal had style and decorum to elevate murder into art.

“I will need you to hold completely still to answer that.” Hannibal said, taking off his apron to neatly fold it and set aside.

“Why?” Will asked to only get a thin smile back in answer. His body language said that Hannibal was willing to wait him out on this He had no idea what Hannibal was planning, but he was asking Will to trust him. The Ripper hadn’t don’t anything horrible to him...yet...so Will reasoned that he could give him an inch to work with.. “All right, fine.”

As always, Hannibal took a mile.

The profiler learned two very important things about Hannibal in the next several seconds. First and foremost, the Ripper was fast. The words left his mouth, Will blinked, and then, Hannibal was already behind him.

The second realization came next, Will finding himself scooped up, light as a feather, to be held in the cradle of Hannibal’s arms, the Chesapeake Ripper deadlifting around 163 pounds like it was nothing. Will vaguely remembered being carried to bed from before. Now he knew it had been with ease.

“So, on top of everything else, you’re just naturally quick and extremely strong?” Will deciphered. Life was so unfair. “No wonder you have such a huge superiority complex.”

This close, it was just easier to sling an arm across Hannibal’s shoulders. Will felt ridiculous having both his hands in his lap while being held like this. It was an unusual sensation being held aloft. Will couldn’t tell if he liked it or not. He waited to be put down, but that didn’t seem to be happening any time soon.

“What are you waiting for?” Will finally asked, trying and failing to not look at Hannibal’s face.

“You asked me a question. I’m answering it. I’m putting your doubts to rest.” Hannibal said as he began to gently sway with Will in his arms. He seemed quite content to just keep him there.

“I get it. You have unusually good speed, strength, and stamina. Would you quit showing off, and put me down now? I feel ridiculous.” Will grumbled. Hannibal made absolute no move to do so as he continued to move in place.

Desperation and improvising were the mothers of chaotic choices, Will suddenly leaning in as Hannibal turned his head toward him. Cupping sharp cheekbones, Will kissed that smug look off the Ripper’s face.

Will was let down in an instant, but not let go. Powerful hands on the curve of his ass and the back of his head kept him in place, Will being devoured by Hannibal, that thin blade of a mouth doing wondrous things to his lips. Curling his own hands into soft hair, Will parted his mouth to be invaded, thoroughly tasted, the shape of his teeth memorized by Hannibal’s ‘talented as the rest of him’ tongue. The only things between them were own clothing, the pair sealed together into one being.

They only drew apart because breathing was a thing. Even then, in that moment, Will wasn’t sure were he ended and where Hannibal began, all his mirrors reflecting back the ocean of want and desire that was threatening to tip over his little boat of resolve.

A gasp from neither one of them came from the doorway, the pair sharply looking over to find Alana Bloom standing there. She stared at them with wide eyes, and an open mouth.

“I-I let myself in as per your request. Busy cooking, I believe is what you told me.” Alana stammered her way through as Will tried not to implode on the spot.

“Perfectly all right. Please excuse us. We just got caught up in the moment.” Hannibal pressed a far more casual kiss to Will’s curls before disengaging. He returned to cooking like it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

“I’m going to go...to do...elsewhere...” Will never finished his excuse, retreating to the safety of the second story. He needed to regather, picking a bedroom at random to go straight into the shower to wash Hannibal’s scent and everything else off of him.

Hannibal had played him not once, but twice, first with Jack, and now with Alana. Finally leaving the shower, Will forgo clothing since they were in another room, smelling like Hannibal. He curled up on the bed in a tight fetal position, pulling covers over himself. He dozed like this as his mind chewed things over in the back.

“Will,” was said as softly as the hand placed to his back. Will cursed at himself for not remembering to lock the door. Not that it would have impeded Hannibal in the slightest, but he would have heard Hannibal come in.

“Go away.” Will spat out, immediately shying away from the touch. “Don’t touch me if you’re just going to use it against me. You got what you wanted. You’ve humiliated me. Well done. Just leave me the hell alone until we have to go see Abigail Hobbs.”

“Will, I had no way of knowing when Alana was planning on joining us. It was an open ended invitation to put her at ease if things ran late with Abigail.” Hannibal explained instead, sitting down on the bed. “I also had no way of knowing that you were going to kiss me. As ever, you remain delightfully unpredictable.”

“You kissed me back.” Will didn’t know if he was arguing or stating the obvious. He had a lot of big emotions going on right now, and it was very uncomfortable in his head. Will just wanted to lay there in the soft dark of his own creation and stew in them.

“I will readily admit I heard Jack this morning, and used that to my advantage, but this is not the case with Alana. I had no intention of humiliating you in front of her. Doing so would have served no purpose in what I have intended for you.“

“Well, that sounds ominous.” Will pointed out, wondering if this was Hannibal’s version of trying to comfort him. If he was, the profiler wondered why the Ripper was making the effort. “You’re trying to tell me with all the advantageous bullshit you’ve got going on, you simply didn’t notice Alana because you were so caught up in the moment?”

It had been one hell of a moment. Will was glad he was still hidden under the covers.

“As you have so elegantly articulated, yes. Yes, I was. That has not happened to me in a very long time.”

“Fuck off.” Will elegantly articulated some more.

“You simply don’t give yourself enough credit. I was completely unaware that Alana was even there until she made that unfortunate sound. All those advantageous senses were being directed upon one thing, and one thing only.” Hannibal said, the admission making Will pause in his thinking. The Ripper was saying that he had been vulnerable in that moment. Vulnerability was not taken lightly by predators, especially admissions of it.

But this was also Hannibal. He would very well be lying through his teeth.

“You knew I have feelings for Alana.” Will sighed, finally poking his head out to find Hannibal sitting like an ‘L’ against the headboard. He was still dressed in his ridiculous suit minus the coat, with his sleeves rolled up, and his shoes taken off.

Will wondered how much his socks cost. Knowing Hannibal, the wool to make them probably came from some new extinct breed of sheep that lived on a mountain’s top, and was sheared once a year by a family who had a secret method of sock making that was far superior to all else.

“Yes, I am aware of it, but I also know that you’d be delusional to consider that she felt the same way in regard to you. You are many things, but delusional isn’t one of them.” Hannibal chided. He wasn’t wrong though, and it made Will ache. Alana thought she was clever about it, but she was extremely careful never to be left alone in the same room with Will. Her doing so didn’t exactly give off a ‘come hither and seduce me’ vibe, not that Will was any good at that with a willing recipient.

“What are you staring at?” Will finally asked after a moment of thoughtful silence.

“May I touch you?” Made Will realize that Hannibal had made no attempt to do so since he had forbade him. Closing his eyes, Will remembered the rush of the Ripper’s raw want and desire for him, shuddering as it washed through his mind and body again. No one had ever directed something of such intense caliber at him. It was a heady sensation to experience.

“...yeah.”

Chapter Text

Alana had already helped herself to half a bottle of wine by the time Will came down.

“Sorry. I just felt the need to freshen up. Long day and all.” Will said as normally as possible. It still came out stilted.

“I’m just...surprised by the two of you. You only just met, and neither of you are prone to flights of fancy.” Alana chose her words carefully, “Jack had mentioned something about it when he called me about Abigail earlier. I hadn’t realized you two had become so involved with one another.”

“It was just a kiss.” Will tried to wave it off.

“It was an impressive kiss. If I didn’t know better, it looked more like one of you had just returned from war.” Alana teased, Will suddenly remembering Hannibal’s hand clinging to the curve of his ass, and the death grip locked into his curls. “It’s possibly the most passionate I’ve seen either of you be.”

“Considering its sources, impressive and passionate things are bound to happen.” Hannibal said as he placed dinner down in front of them. The quail was dressed up in honey, spices, and fruit. Will zoned out while Hannibal gave the tutorial about it, the profiler waiting for the polite ‘go ahead’ to dig in.

“How are you, Will?” Alana asked, and god, how Will hated that tone of voice, the one she reserved for him. It wasn’t patronizing, but it had certainly been created to use on something Alana saw as damaged. Alana liked him, she considered Will a friend, and she even saw the value of his abilities, but she didn’t respect him, not like she did Hannibal or Jack.

“I’m fine. Why?” Will asked as he tried to enjoy his ‘this might not be people for once’ food. Something was nagging him, a little bothersome feeling making Will feel unsettled.

“Hobbs got killed. I’m worried you got too close.” Ah, that old chestnut. Will distracted himself by taking a sip of wine, letting the liquid linger over his tongue as he gave some attention to what was annoying him.

“He got killed, but not by me.” Will wondered where the hell this line of questioning was going. The irksome feeling’s source was Alana, her being here with them. Will realized that it felt like an intrusion.

“It’s a deadly force encounter.” Alana reminded, making Will glance over at Hannibal. They obviously knew that, Will just didn’t know what it had to do with him.

“That happened when I wasn’t there.” Will reminded her, trying not to sound too irritated about it. He shouldn’t be feeling like that in regard to her, or so he told himself.

“I’m worried you might be feeling guilty.” Alana said, giving Will a sudden bout of clarity. He had his own person suit on again. It was nowhere as complex as Hannibal’s own, but he had put it on all the same for Alana. She looked at him, but didn’t see him like Hannibal did, and there in lied the difference he was experiencing.

“Guilty about what?” Will was starting to get exasperated. He’d done his job, and he would have done it practically perfect If not for Hannibal’s interference.

“That you didn’t get to Hobbs in time to save his wife or himself.”

Will was most definitely not feeling any sort of guilt about that, the real culprit of events enjoying the back and forth going on at the dinner table. Hannibal topped off their wine.

“My conscious is crystal clear on that one.” Will snorted.

“That may be, but this is your first time back out into the field, one that had an unfortunate outcome. Jack is asking me if you should go to therapy. I’m going to recommend it.” Alana said.

Pushing his plate away, Will stopped eating to sit back so that he could stare Alana down. He ignored Hannibal’s frown about it.

There it was, the line. Alana treated Will like a wounded creature who needed to be brought in from the cold. Hannibal treated Will like a predator, one that needed to be feared and respected. The difference was dizzying to take in all at once.

“You haven’t heard one word I’ve said.” Will said flatly, “While I appreciate your concern, I’m telling you I didn’t get too close, and I am uninvolved with the shooting, the one that I wasn’t even present for.”

“I can attest to that. I was with Will the entire time.” Hannibal added.

“I’m just worried about you, Will.”

“Therapy doesn’t work on me.” Will said, internally seething. “I know all the tricks.”

“Therapy doesn’t work on you because you don’t allow it to, Will.” Alana said in that damnable tone.

“What if our dear Will had conversations instead?” Hannibal interjected, getting varied looks from the two. He turned his head slightly to address Alana first. “I agree Will should have a support structure, just like any other dangerous profession does, but I’m confident in his considerable abilities to determine what he needs.”

“How would you feel if I scheduled you space after hours so that you can come by and talk to me whenever you need to?” Hannibal asked Will, who blinked in surprise at the sudden turn of events.

“Out of the question!” Alana answered for Will. “Hannibal! I’m shocked. That’s highly unethical!”

“Will is not my patient. It will just be two people talking, much how you and I do so from time to time when either of us needs the other’s insight.”

“That’s different.”

“How? I’m curious.“ Hannibal asked calmly, “Under the FBI, we are all colleagues, all equal.”

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Then we’ll just have to agree to disagree. I think it’s an excellent idea if Will acquiesces to it.”

“I do.” Will said softly, agreeing more out of spite than anything else else as he studied Alana. She was a good person, but even good people had flaws.

Right now, Alana was a witch’s cauldron of emotion, her inner concoction threatening to brew over. She was worried for Will, but then she always was. Alana was confused and upset by their rather sudden intimate relationship. She was attracted to the both of them so them being together meant a double loss for her. Lastly, there down at the bottom, there was good old fashion, understandable jealousy.

Will tried to think of a time when anyone was actual jealous of him. The list was extraordinarily short. He could understand why. If he weren’t a prolific serial killer, Hannibal would be quite the catch.

“Does it bother you that I’m with Hannibal?” Will asked. Hannibal suddenly had all the pent up energy of a golden retriever told to ‘stay’ as they were shown a treat.

“I’m just surprised, is all. We all are. It’s very sudden.” Alana choosing to study her plate instead of her company.

“So what. People get suddenly in relationships all the time.” Will said, returning to his food. Hannibal kept subtly nudging his plate closer.

“That’s true, but Hannibal is Hannibal, and you’re-“

“I’m what? Too broken to date anyone?” Will’s tone dared her to voice that thought. She could be as bitter boots as she wanted about missing out on Hannibal, though she’d all the time in the world before this to pursue such a thing, but she hadn’t even wanted to consider dating Will.

“I’m not saying that.” Alana started to backpedal. One person’s trauma was another person’s treasure, Will surmised. He was sure he’d here more about his worth, or lack there of, more and more from this point on. Hannibal had an unknown European perigee after all, adding allure and mystique to him. Will would always be just poor white trash in the envious eyes of others, no matter how many accolades he acquired.

“What exactly are you alluding to?” Hannibal edged in.

“You’re just so...different.” Alana finally decided upon. The wine wasn’t doing her any favors.

“I believe the cliche thing to say here would be ‘opposites attract’.” Will said, taking a moment to enjoy the wine. He didn’t know what it was, but it went perfectly with the quail.

“I would point out that we are not so different at all on the inside. Our outward packaging may be adverse, but at an important intellectual level, we are equals.”

“I’ll never promise you happiness, but I can promise you that you’ll never be bored.” Was about as poetic as Will got. He couldn’t believe he was fighting for this.

“I’ve just never known Will to be in a relationship. He never talk about past ones.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. It’s just been the occasional one night stand, and failed attempts at dating.” Will supplied, his history with other people was a lonely sad one that wasn’t worth repeating.

“My own few and far between dalliances have been short lived and to the point as well.” Hannibal stated far more eloquently.

“Yeah, what he said.”

“Then how do you know this will work?” Alana was at a loss, and an unhappy one at that.

“I don’t.” Will shrugged.

“Fortune favors the bold.” Hannibal said with a twinkle in his eye.

“Personally, I’ll be surprised if we don’t end up killing each other.” Will threw in for fun. It actually got a rare laugh from Hannibal. Alana remained confused.

“Now that we have put that subject to bed, tell us about Abigail Hobbs.”

Chapter Text

Freddie fucking Lounds was talking to Abigail fucking Hobbs. Hannibal and Will arrived just in time to hear the end of their exchange.

“How did they catch him?” Abigail asked, glancing nervously over at the two men as they entered the room.

“A man named Will Graham works for the FBI, but isn’t FBI. He catches insane men because he can think like them. Because he is insane.” Lounds tacked on that last bit as soon as she recognized the profiler.

“Would you excuse us please?” Hannibal said to be tapped on the arm by Will, the profiler gesturing for him to lean in.

“Go get the guard, and call Jack.” Will told him quietly before turning back to the trespassing journalist and their suspect.

“I’m Special Agent Will Graham.” He introduced himself to Abigail, but kept a close eye on Lounds.

“By Special Agent, he means not a real agent. He didn’t get past the screening process.” Lounds wasn’t wrong, but it still stung. “Too unstable.”

“Abigail, this is Doctor Lecter. We’ll be with you in a moment.” Will ignored her as Hannibal reappeared with a rather sheepish looking guard who glared at Lounds. Will wondered what kind of lie she had fed him.

“If you ever want to talk.” Lounds attempted to give Abigail her card, but found it snatched out of her hand to be replaced with handcuffs.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Lounds demanded as the guard did what he should have done from the get-go.

“I’m arresting you for obstruction of justice. You contaminated an active high profile crime scene.” Will kept it professional, meaning he didn’t openly smirk.

“You’re making a big mistake.” Lounds hissed through her teeth. “I could have undone what I said, but I can also make it a lot worse.”

“Mmm, the only mistake made here is you pissing off a person who thinks about killing people for a living, and then calling them insane in front of a potential suspect.” Will said not so professionally, enjoying Lounds being dragged away in handcuffs a little too much in a sadistic manner.

Will realized that he had to start being more careful. Hannibal was starting to really rub off on him.

“If I were you, I’d be more worried about what Jack Crawford has in store for you, Miss Lounds.” Hannibal added as the journalist was hauled out of the room, adding the last bit of salt to an already agitated wound. Judging by the concerned look on her face, Lounds was well aware of who Jack, his reputation, and all that he could do to her. “You’ve just made yourself into a lightening rod for his discontent.”

“Who’s Jack Crawford?” Abigail asked. She must have recognized the name from Alana because she looked bothered.

“To keep it simple, he’s our boss, and he’s a very unhappy man right now, which means we’re all having a bad day. Lounds should be a nice distraction for him.” Will said as he watched Abigail. He had started to learn her patterns before with Hobbs, but now he got to see her move all on her own. It was only a matter of time before her own unique design became clear to him.

“You two caught my dad.” Abigail stated more than accused which Will thought was interesting. She was testing the waters, so to speak.

“In a manner of speaking. Unfortunately, it was not ideal.” Hannibal told her. Him doing so caused several things to happen at once when Abigail Hobbs heard the timbre of the Ripper’s voice, the inflection of his unique accent.

All things considered, Abigail hid it well, but through little tells she couldn’t help due to her age and inexperience, Will instantly knew that she had just recognized Hannibal’s voice which meant the Ripper knew this as well.

Which meant Abigail didn’t have long to live. Hannibal couldn’t allow for such a loose end, small as it was, to be out in the world. Abigail didn’t know it yet, but she had just suddenly made herself worthwhile to Will.

If he could get her to tell Jack that Hannibal was the man on the phone, it was something Will could use to start building a case against him. It wasn’t the solid bedrock of undeniable evidence Will desperately needed, but it was a start. At the very least, Will could get Hannibal kicked out of the FBI due to misconduct that led to the death of two in people. Doing so would both accomplish pissing off the Ripper, and keeping Hannibal out of the halls and labs of the FBI.

The downside was that while Will knew this, he was also aware Hannibal knew that he knew all this. They were racing toward some undefined goal now. Whether Abigail would be used as a tool or weapon was yet to be determined by whoever got to the finish line first.

“Yes, and many others worked together to catch your father. It was a group effort.” Will said dismissively. The cops arriving on the scene had done more than their fair share. Hobbs had been shot over ten times.

“But that woman said-“

“Did Freddie Lounds mention to you that that she’s already been to your father’s antler room, contaminated the crime scene, and is making a profit off of that?” Hannibal made Abigail grow quiet.

“No, she didn’t. How?”

“She is a journalist, and words are her currency, the readers of TattleCrime her economy.” Hannibal said, “You’re only a paycheck to her. She counting on your history and future to be money in the bank.”

“More accurately, she’s a parasite. Any word you utter to her is more coin in her pocket. I would advise you don’t give her the time or the satisfaction.” Will felt the need to add. “Abigail, we were sent here to talk to you about your father.”

“I’ve already talked with Doctor Bloom. I can’t tell you anything new that I haven’t already told her. I don’t know why my dad went crazy. He was fine until he wasn’t.” Abigail shrugged, crossing her arms. She obviously wanted this conversation to be over.

“He killed your mother.” Will told her to see what kind of reaction he would get.

“I know. I saw.” Abigail replied flatly, “When can I go home?”

“All in due time.” Hannibal told her. Their interrogation was interrupted by a barrage of calls and messages from Jack. “Please excuse us for now. We’ll be back.”

“This should be obvious, but don’t let anyone else who isn’t a doctor, or nurse, or in law enforcement into that room, or else you’ll have to deal with Jack Crawford. Unless you have some burning urge to end your career as a mall cop, do your damn job. “ Will growled at the guard in passing.

They were met up soon enough with Jack and Alana in some borrowed meeting room at the hospital.

“Nice work with Lounds.” Jack looked pleased for once.

“That remains to be seen. We have no idea how long she was in there talking to Abigail.” Will sighed, taking a seat.

“What’s your take on her?” Jack hounded, like talking for less than fifteen minutes with a potential suspect was going to give them something new to work with.

“Not much. You didn’t allow for a lot of time.” Will pointed out. “We just got here, and had to deal with Lounds first.”

“I’ve got seven families waiting, no, let me rephrase that, demanding that we find whatever’s left of their daughters. Abigail Hobbs may be the only person left who knows the truth.” Jack huffed.

“I don’t know how many times you need to hear this, Jack, but what I do isn’t magic. There’s a process to it based on evidence. If I don’t have any evidence to work with, I got nothing, which means in turn, you have nothing.” Will sighed. This was another reason he hadn’t wanted to work for the man. Jack could be extremely tedious.

“I know that.”

“If Abigail is anything to go by, no. No, you don’t. We got as far as introductions before you decided to interrupt us for this meeting.” Will said, “You want my hot take on Abigail Hobbs? She’s a scared, confused teenage who is in shock that both her parents are dead. Ta-da.”

“You can’t ask her that right now anyway, Jack. We have to create a safe space for her first, or you won’t get anything.” Alana came to Abigail’s defense like Will knew she would. Hannibal’s years of gaslighting hadn’t done her any favors. Alana didn’t recognize monsters anymore when she met them.

“I respect your sympathy for her, Doctor Bloom. I hope one day you’ll appreciate my lack of it.” Jack lowered his voice when he spoke to Dr. Bloom, like he did with Hannibal. It was tiresome to be not seen worthy of respect.

“Do you really think Abigail help her father to kill those girls?” Alana asked plaintively, like that was going to sway Jack.

“I think it’s a possibility that needs to be explored.” Jack said, “If Abigail didn’t help her father, maybe she knows who did.“

“How was Abigail when you saw her?” Hannibal inquired, the tone of compassion and concern so on pointe Will wanted to chef kiss its execution.

“I think she’s surprisedly practical.” Alana was thinking something over. Something she didn’t want to say unnecessarily in front of Jack.

“Suspiciously practical?”' Will asked, beating Jack to it. He needed Abigail in protective custody as soon as possible.

“I would suggest she can be practical without being a murderer.” Yup, Hannibal definitely had plans for her.

“I think she’s hiding something.” Alana finally admitted.

“I feel the same.” Will quickly added.

“It may simply be trauma.” Hannibal countered easily.

“Yeah, but it could be something more. She has a penchant for manipulation, withholding information to gain information. She demonstrated only enough emotions to prove she had them.” Alana was back on Will’s good side for now.

“Are you beginning to appreciate my lack of sympathy?” Jack said in the tone of ‘I told you so’.

“You say that it may be more than trauma, yet you question her involvement in the murders her father committed?” Hannibal pointed out.

“What I question is her state of mind.” Alana clarified.

“I want Will to keep talking to her to ascertain that.” Jack said, sounding like the profiler’s future was full of time spent with a petulant manipulative person. Oh, and Abigail would be there too.

“Abigail wants to go home.” Will threw out some bait Jack wouldn’t be able to resist.

“Does she now? Then let’s take her home.” Jack was caught hook, line, and sinker.

“Jack, that not a good idea. It could be traumatizing to the point of damaging.” Alana objected, putting herself back in Will’s shit list.

“Or it could keep Abigail from using denial as a shelter.” Crap in a hat, Abigail was going to die where her father had initially intended if he couldn’t keep a close eye on Hannibal. It all had the kind of symmetry the Ripper adored.

“Will, what do you think?” Jack asked like any answer that was not his own had merit.

“I don’t know why you asking me. This isn’t a democracy. You’ve already made your decision. We all already know that Abigail is going home.” Will said, not bothering to keep the boredom out of his voice.

“Exactly! And I want you three, and only you three, there when she does.” Jack grinned, well pleased with his plan. It wasn’t a bad idea, intentionally leaving out law enforcement with uniforms and badges. Having two therapists and a special whatever going through your things would be easier than some resentful, ham handed local cops looking for a little revenge.

When they pulled up to the Hobbs’s residence the next day, they found someone had taken the liberty of spray painting ‘CANNIBALS’ across the face of it.

Well, they aren’t wrong, Will mused to himself. The reminder made Abigail grow pale though,Alana instantly at her side as the girl began to tremble. Will had to give her some credit though as Abigail pushed through to walk up to the front door to stop at the stoop.

“This is where my mom died.”

“Yes.” Will had never been good at comforting others. He wasn’t about to start now with her.

“I was sorta expecting a body outline in chalk or tape.”

“They only do that if you’re alive, and taken to the hospital before they’re finished processing the crime scene.” Will didn’t sugarcoat it.

“Goodbye, Mom.” Abigail said, entering what had been her only home.

“If you ever want to go, you just have to say so, and we’ll go.” Was meant to give Abigail a sense of control. It might have worked if she were younger or dumber.

“Go where? The hospital?” Abigail snorted, looking over Alana with distain.

“For now.” Alana apologized as much as she could without having to say the words.

“It’s better than a holding cell.” Will pointed out, ignored the glare Alana was directing at the back of his head.

“Who turned all the pictures around?” Abigail asked.

“Crime scene cleaners will do that.” Alana stayed close to Abigail while Hannibal wandered about the kitchen, taking in all the working middle class finery.

“They did a really good job. That’s where all of Dad’s blood was.” Abigail pointed vaguely to the kitchen corner by the dishwasher.

“Yes.” Once again, not the guy you go to for that shoulder you want to cry on. His response, or lack there of, wasn’t what Abigail wanted though. She was hurting, and for whatever reason, she picked Will to take this out on.

“Do you do this a lot? Go places and think about killing?” Abigail asked, the little monster trying very much to nip at a much bigger monster’s heels.

“Too often.“ Will didn’t nip back. He had thick skin, and bigger problems than her. “It’s the ugliest feeling in the world to experience.”

“So you pretended to be my dad?” Abigail asked. Will cracked half a smile at her word choice. Using ‘pretend’ took away the importance and the intricate mechanics of what he did.

“And people like your dad. I can actually ‘pretend’ to be anyone, not just killers.” Will pointed out. No one ever seem to remember that part.

“What did it feel like to be him?”

“It felt like I was talking to his shadow suspended on dust.” At times like these, Will found brutal honesty was quite effective for shutting others down.

“You wonder she called you insane. You must get nightmares.” Abigail thought she just did something there, left a mark on him. Will decided it was time to remind Abigail of the real nightmare in the room, the one pausing in its exploration to regard them.

“The attacks on you and your mother were different. They were desperate. Your dad knew he was out of time. Someone told him we were coming.” Will said, sharp and direct. He was putting Alana in danger by bearing witness to all this, but then again, she already was.

“The man on phone?” Abigail was smart enough not to look over at Hannibal who was shifting in closer behind Will.

“It was a blocked call. Did you recognize his voice?” Will tested.

“I’ve never heard it before.” Smart girl, Abigail’s eyes still on Will as a monster studied her from behind him.

“Was there anyone new in your father’s life? Someone you met, or someone he talked about?” Alana put herself in the line of fire without even realizing it. Will almost envied her.

“Why?” Abigail asked, looking more unsure about life as they kept talking.

“Abigail, you may have been contacted by another killer.” Will warned and threatened her all in one go. “A copycat.”

“Someone who’s still out there?” Abigail proved she could play the game.

“Yes.”

They began to pack up Abigail’s things, what she was allowed to take. While Alana and Abigail sorted through it all, Will and Hannibal looked around for any trace of evidence.

“Can you catch someone’s crazy?” Abigail broke the quiet of rustling paper and folded cardboard boxes.

“Folie à deux.” Alana’s accent wasn’t bad, though Will was still partial to the Cajun way of speaking French.

“What?”

“It’s a French psychiatric term. It means ‘Madness shared by two’.”

“One can not be delusional if the belief in question is accepted as ordinary by others in that person’s culture or subculture or family.” Hannibal said, sounding to Will like the good doctor was advocating for cannibalism.

“My dad didn’t seem delusional. He was a perfectionist.”

“Your dad left hardly any evidence.” Will said as he studied yet another stag’s head. What was with serial killers and displaying dead animals?

“Is that why you let me come home? To find evidence?” Abigail actually had the audacity to sound upset and offended about it.

“It was one of many considerations.” Hannibal told her.

“Are we going to reenact the crime?” Abigail acted out, assigning roles to the people in the room until she was staring down Hannibal. “You be my dad, you be my mom, and you be the man on the phone.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid girl. Abigail had really no idea how in over her head she was. That serial killers and the FBI were not to be trifled with.

“Abigail, we wanted you to come home to have you leave home behind.” Alana tried a more gentle approach of breaching the subject matter.

“You’re not going to find any of those girls.” Abigail said, petulant not a good look on her.

“What makes you say that?” Will asked.

“He would honor every part of them. He used to make plumber putty out of elk’s bones. Whatever bone was left of those girls are probably holding pipes together.”

“Where did he make this putty?” Hannibal asked, who seemed delighted about the prospect of plumber putty made from bones.

“At the cabin. I’ll show you tomorrow.” Abigail said like that was her decision to make.

“Abigail,” Alana Bloom said as an unfamiliar girl joined them. “There is someone here.”

“Hey, Abigail.” Greeted a girl whose appearance would have been a perfect fit for the Shrike’s wants and needs. Marissa seemed to be about the only neighbor willing to voluntarily talk to Abigail.

The girls were allowed to go out back to catch up in private with a warning to stay close so the adults could continue their tasks at hand.

“Do you think you’ll find anything at the cabin?” Hannibal asked as he and Will did another lap through the house, pausing here and there in rooms to fiddle and poke at things to see if they were made from people.

“Nope.” Will let the ‘p’ pop for emphasis. “The team has already been through it with a fine toothed comb. They found sweet fuck all in there.”

“Do you still think we’ll find something here?” Hannibal taking advantage of them being upstairs, and everyone else being downstairs. As the profiler inspected a bookcase’s contents, the killer drew in close behind him to delicately scent the back of Will’s neck, moving upward to his dark curls.

“Stop that.” Will fussed as he tried to the ignore arms wrapping around his middle to hold the empath in place. Apparently, Hannibal really needed to smell him. Will ignored it the best he could, something that Hannibal wasn’t making easy. “Yes, I do. Hobbs would have wanted to bring something home to keep them close to him.”

“As trophies?” Hannibal had no intention of stopping as he pressed soft kisses to the hidden space behind Will’s right ear. Moving to shake him off, the action was aborted by Will when Hannibal placed a firm hand to his throat, holding it. It was kept there not to interrupt Will’s breathing, but more as a reminder to keep still.

“No, something that was more for comfort than anything. Hobbs was driven by fear, the fear of losing his daughter, his only child.” Will dry swallowed, his Adam’s apple fluttering against the palm of Hannibal’s hand. “They’re here. I can feel it. We just got to keep looking.”

“What are we looking for then, mielasis?” Huh? That was a new one, though Will vaguely recalled Hannibal calling him something similar before sleep claimed them both last night. Will made a mental note to look it up.

“Something that won’t immediately or noticeably decay, at least not right away. Hair, bones, teeth, the usual.” Will answered eventually, suddenly aware how tense he was, and how relaxed Hannibal seemed to be. He was a solid enough force to lean back on, but other than that, Hannibal draped himself over Will, one hand remaining on the profiler’s throat, and the other wrapped around his waist to trace the V line of the hip there. “Probably reshaped, but definitely still here.”

“Human skin as been used before to bind books, even make small coin purses.” Should not have sounded sensual.

“Exactly.” Will sighed out.

A sharp unbidden pang of arousal made Will wondered what it would be like to have sex with Hannibal like this. He would have to brace himself against the wall. All Hannibal would have to do was pull out his cock, spit on it, and tug down the back of Will’s pants. It would hurt. Will would have to stay quiet doing the entirety of it with Hannibal’s hand holding his throat, the other hand bruising its shape into Will’s hip. He would come untouched while Hannibal came deep inside of him. Will would have to spend the rest of the day like that, bloodied and stained.

Arousal apparently had a definite particular scent to it because Hannibal froze behind Will, his grip upon him tightening noticeable. Will cursed that unusually sensitive nose and his own vivid imagination. He froze upon feeling teeth placed to the back of his neck, shivering from the sensation of it as that became a permanent part of the fantasy. Flesh was held between sharp crooked teeth, but not bitten down upon.

Teeth or not, Will finally gave in to allowing himself to be held, possessed even. It was a momentary reprieve though. A commotion from outside interrupted them, Marissa and Abigail yelling at someone.

“Goddamnit, what now?” Will sighed as he finally managed to shake Hannibal off of him. Will avoided looking over at him as they made their way downstairs.

They arrived in time to see Marissa throw a rock at a young man with ginger hair, It connected pretty solidly, the trespasser retreating quickly back into the woods, clutching his head.

That would be the last time Will saw Nicholas Boyle alive again.

Chapter Text

“You brought Abigail Hobbs back to Minnesota to find out if she was involved in her father’s murders, and another girl dies.”

Jack said it like Abigail’s friend Marissa mounted on Hobbs’s antlers was entirely Will’s fault. He didn’t give any of this grief to Hannibal though.

“Yep, scraped his knuckles on her teeth. There’s foreign tissue, and what could be trace amounts of blood.” Will ignored Jack to keep examining the body before him. Jack was not so easily detoured.

“You said that this copycat was an intelligent psychopath, Will. That there would be no traceable motive. No pattern. He wouldn’t kill this way again. You said that.” Jack stated Will’s own words to him like they were ‘carved into stone‘ gospel.

Will skipped repeating that what he did wasn’t magic. It certainly wasn’t magical when the killer beside you set you up for failure. “I may have been wrong about that.”

“Yes, because Garrett Jacob Hobbs never struck his victims. Why would the copycat do it?”

“I think he was provoked.” Hannibal answered for Will. He would know best after all. “Nicholas Boyle murdered this girl, and his own sister.”

It all came back to Will in a rush. Marissa had called her mother a bitch in front of strangers. She had been disrespectful to someone who only had their well-being in mind.

“With or without Abigail Hobbs?” Jack asked Hannibal which stung more than it should.

“Without.” Will told him.

“Well, do you think Abigail Hobbs knew Nicholas or Cassie Boyle?” Jack’s attention was back on Will.

“No.” Will said sullenly.

“You don’t think she knew them, or you don’t wanna think that she knew them?” Jack said, almost mocking him back.

“Agent Crawford.” There was a warning in Hannibal’s voice. Will didn’t know why he was bothering. This entire situation was thanks to him feeling slighted for being called mimic in the first place.

“Look, he said he was wrong about the copycat killer. I want to know what else he was wrong about.” Jack had the audacity to say, like Will hadn’t turned him down multiple time to work under him, or explained exactly what he did, what he could do, and how he did it.

“Whoever killed the girl in the field killed this girl. I’m right about that. He knew exactly how to mount the body. The wound pattern is almost identical to Cassie Boyle. Same design, same humiliation.” Will seethed, keeping his eyes on Marissa so he didn’t punch Jack or Hannibal in the face.

“Abigail Hobbs is not a killer, but she could be the target of one.” Hannibal interceded when it was apparent Will was done talking for now. He tried not to react to the irony of Hannibal’s words.

“I think it’s time Abigail Hobbs left home permanently.” Jack decided, “Doctor, would you be good enough to collect Abigail and all of her belongings, and escort her out of Minnesota please?”

“Of course.” Hannibal moved to leave, Will following suit until he was impeded.

“Not you, Will. I want you here.” Jack’s tone and demeanor promised hours of living hell while Hannibal went off to do whatever the fuck he wanted.

“Fine. I’ll say my goodbyes then for now.” Will said as he herded Hannibal outside, away from everyone else.

“You embarrassed me in front of Jack.” Will spat out as soon as he could.

“I believe mention of a mimic was made.” Hannibal said primly.

“That doesn’t give you the right to undermine me.” Except it did. Will realized how stupid that sounded as soon as he said it. He gagged from the realization, covering his mouth in time as he hunched over.

“Don’t.” Will hissed, seeing Hannibal reach for him in his peripheral. He stalked off back to the cabin without nary a backward glance.

Hannibal wasn’t his friend, his confidante, or his whatever. He was a bored sadist serial killer killing time and lots of other people to stress out Will into doing something interesting for his own personal entertainment. Nothing more, nothing less. The profiler in him was aware that he would always have to remember that.

Will knew that he get more luck trying to reason with a brick wall than with Hannibal, and would probably make more progress with that. He was being fooled by Hannibal’s person suit, alluring thing that it was. You wanted to like the monster wearing it, and you wanted the monster to like you back despite knowing that it was going to eventually consume you.

By the time Will returned to Hobbs’s residence, things had gone horrible awry as expected. Suicide was Hannibal’s best bet. Easy to implement and totally believable at this point.

Bracing himself to hear how Abigail had died, Will followed Jack to the ambulance Alana was sitting in. She had a fresh contusion to the side of her skull, and she would be spending the night in the hospital for observation.

“I don’t remember anything. Maybe a blur out of the corner of my eye, and... And then, a big fat fade to black.” Alana struggled.

“Nicholas Boyle attacked Abigail, you, and then struck Doctor Lecter in the back of the head.” Jack digested. Will already had heartburn from it.

“Where’s Abigail?” Alana asked, squinting to make out faces to no good avail.

“Lecter has already taken her back to your hotel.” Will filled her in.

“She encountered Nicholas Boyle on his way out the back door. The blood on her hands matches the tissue we pulled from Marissa Schurr’s mouth.”

“And then what? He got away?” Alana winced, bowing her head to hold it. She was about tapped out for today.

“We catch him one day way or another.” Jack lied without knowing it. Something wasn’t sitting right with Will.

“Where are you going?” Jack bellowed after Will, the profiler stalking off.

“I wanna go home.” Which was very true. Will most wanted to shut out the world for a good long while, and hang out with his pack. Instead, he got a ride to the hotel Alana and Abigail were staying at.

“Okay, what really happened?” Will asked as soon as he was through the door.

“We already told them what happened.” Abigail offered up.

“Do you really want me to believe that someone stuck up behind you and knocked you out?” Will ignored her to focus on Hannibal.

“It would appear that I am only human after all.” Hannibal said too lightly in Will’s opinion.

“You, shut up.” Will snapped at Hannibal before turning his controlled anger back on Abigail. “You, start talking“

Abigail was looking to Hannibal for cues which was so not good. It meant they had done something horrible together, and now Abigail owed Hannibal which made her basically useless to Will until he found out what they did.

“Could we just save some time here, and get on with it? What did you two do?” Will growled, “And don’t either of you try to lie to me about it?”

“I helped Abigail hide a body.” Hannibal was surprisingly forthcoming. Will actually blinked in surprise at it.

“Can you at least try to keep just a little bit of the glee out of your voice when you say something like that?” Will glared at the cannibal. “Okay, I’ll bite. Whose body?”

“Nicholas Boyle.”

“What the hell happened to him?!” Will yelled at them. They all just saw him very much alive a few hours ago. “Since when did he have to die?”

“He attacked me.” Abigail supplied, but left it at that.

“Abigail gutted him with a hunting knife.” Hannibal finished for her, looking practically giddy about it under his chilly facade. Will gave him a narrow look for that.

“Is that true, Abigail?” Will needed to hear it from the source.

“I didn’t mean to-“ Abigail began.

“How did you not mean to? It’s a rather decisive action. You know what? Never mind. I’m asking you a very straightforward ‘yes or no’ question. Did you kill Nicholas Boyle?” Will said with an intensity that scared Abigail.

“Y-yes.”

“And Hannibal helped you hide the body?“

“Yes.”

“You stupid little idiot. You’ve just made a deal with the Devil.” Will said, closing his eyes to pinch the bridge of his nose to keep from screaming out of frustration. Fucking hell, he couldn’t win for losing.

“Are you like my dad too? Freddie Loyds told me that you think like killers, that you’re insane.” Abigail was on the defensive now, pulling out all the stops to try and hurt him to make Will back off. A penchant for manipulation indeed. It was laughable in comparison to Hannibal’s level.

“No,” Will ignored the attack on his sanity. “Neither of us are like your father. I’ve never killed anyone, and he’s in a league all to his own in that regard.” Will told her before turning to the other killer in the room. “Are they going to find the body?”

Hannibal actually looked offended by that question. “Not before a considerable amount of decomposition with no traceable evidence occurs,” He stated, sounding miffed about it. “Should that happen at all.”

“Well, thank god for small favors then.” Will let sarcasm drip off of every word. “At least someone did something right for once.”

“You’re not going to arrest me? Or him?”

“Sure, if you want you, me, and a whole lot of other people to needlessly die.” Will wanted to pull his hair out by the root. “I can’t help you because I can’t hinder him. Thanks to what you’ve done, you’ve cost me dearly, more than you’ll ever know. As far as I’m concerned, you’re on your own, Abigail.”

“This isn’t my fault. My dad-“ Abigail started. Will was having none of it.

“You weren’t powerless. You could have gone to the police at any point in time. Hell, you had access to firearms and the training to put your father down. No jury would have convicted you with the help of a decent lawyer. You knew what he was doing. You could have warned the girls. They exchanged information with you. You could have done anything, but you chose to go along with it, to do nothing.” Will laid into her, “You chose self-preservation and cannibalism over doing the right thing, hard as it may have been to do. You could have been a respected hero instead of a hated survivor.”

“What do I do now?” Abigail asked, her voice trembling. Will hated her for trying to make him care about her wellbeing. He already had enough on his own plate to deal with.

“You are going keep your head down, and stay quiet. Get your stories straight, and then treat them like gospel. Jack wanted to find bodies, but all he got was a whole lot of nothing and you. Take a wild guess which one he’s going to focus on.”

“Alana believes in her though.” Hannibal piped up, “As do I, of course.”

“Of course, yeah, sure, I would expect nothing less from you.” The thing is, it just might work though. Alana and Hannibal were very well respected in their field. If both of them had Abigail’s back, it would seem that Jack was on a witch hunt.

“You’ll only need to convince Jack that Abigail is an innocent, and that you have standing appointment with me in Tues and Thurs evenings at 7pm.” Hannibal added.

“You’re really out of your fucking mind if you think I’m going to do any of that.”

“I won’t kill Abigail if you do.”

Checkmate.

“I guess it’s up to me then to make Jack change his mind.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“Language, Will.” Hannibal had the nerve to look disappointed.

“Oh, my apologies, I’ll try to keep it PG for the pair of killers in the room.” Will performed a mock bow at the ridiculousness that was his life now. “And Abigail.”

“Yes?” Abigail answered hesitantly back.

“If you’re half as smart as I think you are, you’ll have Hannibal teach you how to lie.”

Chapter Text

“So Lecter gave you the all clear to come alone today?” Was said from the get-go, rankling the rest of the day for Will.

Jack looked so pleased with himself as the profiler arrived on the scene. “Therapy might work on you after all.”

“Therapy is an acquired taste which I have yet to acquire.” Will bit out, “But it served your purpose. I’m back in the field, right where you want me.”

“Local cops found some tire tracks on a hidden service road, and there’s some animal traps in the surrounding area.” Jack filled Will in while ignoring the profiler’s disingenuous tone.

“He wanted to keep his crops undisturbed.” Will said more to himself than anyone else. The scene was...interesting. Nine bodies laid neatly out in a row, covered with mushrooms.

“The only thing missing is the scarecrow.” Jack gave the scene one last look of disgust before stalking off to talk to local PD again.

“Okay, we’ve got nine bodies, various stages of decay, and as you see and smell, all very well fertilized.” Will liked Price, like how he stated the most gruesome things they had to experience together like they were all in on the joke.

“He buried them in high-nutrient compost. He was enthusiastically encouraging decomposition.” Beverly was next. Will liked her energy, her curiosity and her driving need to answer. It was a bright spot in dark places.

“He buried them alive with the intention of keeping them that way,” Zeller said. He still didn’t want Will here with them. Can’t win them all. “I mean for a little while.”

“Long enough for the fungus to eat away any distinguishing characteristics.” Price said. That was an understatement. If not for the hands poking out from the ground, the open graves probably would have continued being unnoticed.

“Line and rebar were used to administer intravenous fluids after they were buried.” Zeller said as he directed their attention to the rigging, Jack wandering back over to them. “He was feeding them something.”

Fuckity fuck, their guy probably worked in the medical field, and killers with a medical background tended to leave behind little to no evidence.

“No restraints?” Will asked after studying the bodies for a moment.

“Just dirt.” Price shrugged.

“The other end of the air supply system comes out over there.” Beverly said, pointing her brush up at a nearby tree. The setup was hidden behind some camouflage. “It isn’t a very considerate clean air solution, which clearly wasn’t a priority ‘cause he isn’t lazy.”

“No, he’s not.” Will said, already deep in thought. The team took that as their cue to leave.

“Welcome back.” Jack said in parting.

“Fuck you too, Jack.” Will thought hard at the man.

And then, the entire day got horribly, horribly worse.

“How was it?” Hannibal asked liked Will had just spent the day at the zoo or jury duty instead of a truly odd crime scene.

“Awful. One of them wasn’t quite dead yet, and grabbed my wrist. I have some new fuel for my night terrors now.” Will offered up as he took his seat. He had arrived on time, 7pm on the dot. He didn’t plan on staying a second past his allotted hour.

Hannibal had tried to reach out several times since their return from Minnesota to reconnect, but Will had remained glacier. When in person, he spoke when spoken to, but offered nothing of substance back. He ignored all of Hannibal’s advances and closeness, traveling inward until all Hannibal had to deal with on a physical level was basically a human doll, one who ate his food, and slept in his bed on automatic. Hannibal hadn’t tried to touch him again unless unavoidable which Will was both grateful and deeply saddened by the loss.

“What did you see out in the field?” Hannibal prompted while Will anxiously roamed around his office. The profiler has practically scrubbed the skin off of his wrist. He could still feel the living dead’s flesh pressed to his own, the soft rotting texture of it like a lemon gone bad. “The arms? Why did he leave them exposed? To hold their hands? To feel the life leaving their bodies?”

“No. That’s too esoteric for someone who took the time to bury his victims in a straight line. He’s more practical.” Will couldn’t find a spot were he was comfortable, not with all his senses screaming at him.

“He was cultivating them.” Hannibal wasn’t sitting down either. He stood at his desk, turning to follow Will as he gradually circled the room.

“He was keeping them alive. He was feeding them intravenously.”

“But your farmer let his crops die. Save for the one that didn’t.”

“Well, uh, the one that didn’t died on the way to the hospital, though they weren’t the crops.” Will corrected, “They were the fertilizer. The bodies were covered in fungus.”

That really got Hannibal’s attention. Will bet that the cannibal was probably wondering how those mushrooms would taste.

“The structure of a fungus mirrors that of the human brain, an intricate web of connections.” Hannibal said, giving Will reason to pause.

“Maybe he admires their ability to connect. The way human minds can’t.”

“Yours can.” Hannibal said with an odd look, fleeting as it was.

“Is that what you’re trying to do with me? I know you want to be understood, but there’s something else there to that.” Will said sharply.

“Is that what your farmer is looking for? Some sort of connection?” Hannibal asked instead of answering Will’s question.

“Perhaps.” Will resumed his pacing.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you. I have a strict 24hr cancellation policy with my patients that applies to me as well.” Hannibal said, making Will wonder again about the Ripper’s moral code.

“It doesn’t matter if you were there or not.” Will said, keeping his face and tone utterly neutral now. “Besides, you can jump in anytime you want. You’ve already done a thorough enough job of establishing that I’m the unstable one in need of a handler.”

“I want you to want me there.“ Hannibal said, “Otherwise, it will feel like an intrusion, and will affect your work.”

“Um, fuck off?” Was on the tip of Will’s tongue. Instead, he went with “Since I can’t trust you to not embarrass me in front of the higher ups, that’s a hard pass from me. In fact, I’m literally only here so you don’t murder Abigail. That’s it. You get your hour, and then I’m gone.”

Oh, Hannibal didn’t like that. He didn’t like that one bit. “You’re still upset about the death of Marissa Schurr?”

“You decided that embarrassing me in front of Jack and the rest of my peers was far more important than whatever you had intended with me, and because of what? I slighted you in private at your request? I flat out told you multiple times that you wouldn’t like anything I had to say. You pushed for my assessment of you.” Will pointed out, “You didn’t like what you heard so you took it out on some poor girl to punish me. Just further proof that I can’t be myself around anyone, not even you, not anymore.”

“Anymore? I had your...trust?” Was what Hannibal took away from that tirade. He wasn’t wrong. Will hated Hannibal and himself for it, but Hannibal’s allure had rested in the fact that he never treated Will like he was different or weird. Hannibal had given Will a glimpse of what other ‘normal’ people had, and the profiler hated him for it. Will was used to feeling alone. Now he felt just lonely in equals to that. There was a hollow quality to Will now that whiskey, fly fishing, and his dogs couldn’t fill anymore.

“Do you really think I go out of my way to touch other people, or let myself be touched by them?” Will asked incredulously, shaking his head. He needed to stop talking. He was just giving Hannibal more canon fodder at this point, Will told himself as he went to grab his coat. He technically had another 40 minutes left, but Will decided that this was enough ‘therapy’ for today. Hannibal made no move to stop him which struck Will as odd.

“If trust even existed, it’s gone now so what the hell does it matter?” Will threw over his shoulder in parting, slamming the door behind him.

Unable to stop the thinking, Will called his dog sitter, and returned to Quantico, drinking bad coffee while staring down someone’s mushroom garden. Will liked the team, liked talking to them even if the feeling wasn’t always mutual. They didn’t care about work politics. They cared about the evidence and the science behind it. They cared about accurate results based on fact. Despite Jack’s flippant opinion and Hannibal’s interference, Will was actually very good at his job, and a lot of that job had to do with science.

Which is how they found Eldon Stammets. When they went to arrest him, the man wasn’t at his work station like he should have been. His computer was though. “Takes one to know one” by Freddie Lounds was on its screen, bold as brass.

“The FBI isn’t just hunting psychopaths. They’re headhunting them too, offering competitive pay and benefits in the hopes of using a demented mind-“ Beverly read off aloud to them. Will read the rest over her shoulder, leaving off with a sigh. In his opinion, he’d heard worse from better.

Zeller wasn’t looking too thrilled about life though. That caught Will’s attention. The man should be eating this up, and spitting it back out at Will.

“Keep going.” Jack ordered.

“It’s about Will.” Beverly said, looking torn.

“Go on.” Jack growled, because fuck his feelings, Will guessed.

“A demented mind to catch,” Beverly started to cut herself off. She had no intention of following that order, earning a whole lot of brownie points with Will. “She goes into a lot of detail.”

Hannibal was going to be thrilled. His picture and profile were included in the article, Lounds making it sound like Will was a gimp on a leash that was being controlled and kept in check by Lecter. He essentially was at this point, but it didn’t mean he liked to be called out like that.

“Son of a bitch.” Jack swore, looking mad as hell. Someone, somewhere, was going to get fired for this.

And there it was. Zeller was looking more than just uncomfortable now. He looked scared, but was hiding it well enough from the rest of the team.

Will caught the man alone outside, walking beside him to keep pace.

“I know you don’t particularly care for me, but could you refrain from dragging me through the mud? I’ve already got a long line of people more than willing to do that for you.” Will said under his breath. That brought Zeller to an abrupt halt, the tech looking panicked. Will Graham might not be very well liked, but he was well known and respected enough to literally end Zeller’s entire career.

“Are you going to tell Jack?” Zeller asked. Jack was not in a forgiving mood. They both knew that.

“No.” Will said after a moment of letting Zeller stew.

“Why not?” Zeller’s surprise was tangible.It had a very ‘I would rat you out if it were me’ feel to it.

“You’re an asset to the team, and you care about doing your job well. That’s more important to me than some fleeting sense of satisfaction of revenge.” Will shrugged. “Just be smart enough to never do it again.”

“Thanks.” Zeller said tightly.

“But Lounds? Really?” Will couldn’t resist.

“She’s hot. C’mon, you’d-

“Not for all the little plastic toys in China.” Will cut him off right there.

“Oh yeah, shit, sorry, man. That’s right. You’re with Lecter.” Zeller apologized.

“Yup. Sure am.” Will sighed as they rejoined the group.

The next day started off with a BANG. Earlier riser he was, Eldon Stammets decided to make the detective who had helped Freddie Lounds eat a bullet. While she was talking to him mid conversation.

Will rode along with Jack. Not because he was needed, but mostly because he wanted to see Lounds covered in blood.

“Hey, Jack?” Lounds called out as soon as she saw them arrive on the scene.

“Miss Lounds? Go ahead and stand down, officer.” Jack rushed over, Will trailing more sedately behind him. “Miss Lounds, are you alright?”

Lounds looked past him though, her gaze landing on Will and the empty spaces on either side of him. “Where’s Doctor Lecter?”

“Why?” Will asked, something in her tone catching his attention.

“We have an eyewitness to the murder. We don’t need a profiling tag team to figure that out.” Jack said patiently, accounting for shock.

“No, that’s not why I’m asking.” Lounds’s face conveying extreme concern, enough so to make Jack react.

“Someone find me, Doctor Lecter!” Jack bellowed over his shoulder before turning back to the journalist. “This is about Hannibal?”

“Will and Hannibal. He was talking about people having the same properties of fungi.” Lounds went on to say.

“Stammets.” Jack said the man’s name like a curse.

“Thoughts leaping from brain to brain. They mutate. They evolve.” Lounds continued.

“Well, what does he want with Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter?”

“He wants someone to understand him.” Will said.

“Exactly. Graham was right. He was right all along.”

“Stammets is looking for connection.” Everything becoming so clear to Will now.

“What did you tell him?” Jack said, getting into her face when Lounds wasn’t immediately forthcoming. “I need to know what you told Elton Stammets about Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter.

“I told him about the Hobbs girl.”

“You’re stalling. What did you tell him?” Will took his turn next. It worked because Lounds was more scared of him than Jack.

“Everything.” Lounds finally caved. “He want to help Will connect with Lecter. He’s gonna bury him.”

“He’s going to go to Hannibal’s office.” Will knew.

“I’ll drive.” Jack said, the two men taking off toward the car. After breaking numerous vehicular laws, Jack and Will pulled up in time to see Hannibal walking toward his car with no coat on. It was folded over Stammets’s arm, the man quite obviously hiding a gun.

“Hey!” Will yelled, emerging from the car already armed. It startled Stammets into turning. All those hours on the range paid off right then and there, Will shooting Stammets in the right shoulder, precisely enough to make the man drop the gun. Hannibal kicked it away with all the grace of a dancer as Will and Jack ran up to slap restraints on Stammets.

“What were you going to do to him?” Will asked. Hannibal looked unharmed, though he didn’t appear happy about the blood stains in his coat.

“We all evolve from mycelium. I was simply going to reintroduce him to the concept.” Stammets panted out in pain.

“By burying him alive?” Will asked incredulously.

“The journalist said you understood me.” Stammets was practically pleading.

“I don’t.”

“Well, you would have. You would have! If you walk through a field of mycelium, they know you are there. They know you are there. The spores reach for you as you walk by.”

“Are you injured?” Will asked Hannibal.

“No, I am not, and that is all thanks to you.” Hannibal said, looking his version of amused about the entire situation.

“I know who you’re reaching for. I know. Hannibal Lecter.” Stammets wasn’t quite done yet. “You should have let me plant him. You would have found him in a field, where he was finally able to reach back!”

“If only I’d known.” Will said dryly as the rest of the team and support pulled up to deal with Stammets.

“Will, I-“ Hannibal started to say. Their attention was suddenly directed elsewhere though. It was the first time Will had ever seen Hannibal cringe.

“Doctor Lecter! Doctor Lecter! I’ve got the 911 on the phone! Have you been shot?!“ came a loud wail from down the street, a portly man frantically running toward them. “I think he’s been shot!” The man bawled into the phone, Will wincing for the person on the other line.

“Who is that?” Jack asked as the man tripped over his own feet, but somehow managed not to eat sidewalk, all while loudly sobbing for Doctor Lecter.

“That would be Franklin.” Hannibal sighed, a very interesting mixture of emotions running rampant under his person suit. He looked physically pained to be talking about this Franklin. Will just knew he had to meet the man. “He’s a patient of mine.”

“Doctor Lecter!” Franklin cried, flinging his arms wide to, in his mind, embrace Hannibal and never let him go. In reality, it would have been more of a tackle, if not for Jack grabbing the back of the Franklin’s coat in time. It brought the rotund man to an abrupt startled halt.

“This is an active crime scene. You can’t be here.” Jack growled, half carrying, half dragging the man away while Will tried not to laugh. Franklin was a lot to take in, even if one didn’t have an extreme case of empathy.

“It would seem you have a serious admirer.” Will turned toward Hannibal to hide his smile. It was bad form to look jubilant at a crime scene.

“But I saw everything! I’m a witness!” Franklin said as he tried to free himself.

“Oh, even better. He’s a witness.” Will snickered behind his hand.

“Franklin, this is very serious. Did you actually see anything? Be very sure about that.” Hannibal asked, staring his patient down as he was finally let go.

“I arrived for my appointment early, too early to go sit in the waiting room because we’ve talked about how it makes others feel uncomfortable. I saw that man enter your office. I know Michael has the time slot before mine so I decided it was best to let the man know that you were completely unavailable, but when I got there, I found the doors ajar. I heard angry voices so I peeked in time to see that man shoot Michael in the head. He just shot him in the head! No hesitation! And then, you were so calm and brave. He said something to you about leaving, and he took your coat to hide his gun, and then you two left. I waited to make sure he wasn’t coming back so I could call 911, but then I heard shooting so I had to be like you. Calm and so brave.” Franklin word vomited. Will had to quickly walk off before he pissed himself laughing.

“This nice officer is going to take your statement, and then you’ll be free to go.” Jack said as he herded Franklin away from them.

“But my appointment!” Franklin called out as he resisted being made to leave.

“Franklin, we will have to reschedule due to our current circumstances.” Hannibal explained with rigorous forced patience.

“Of course, yeah, alright.” Was what Hannibal walked away from. He found Will by his car, wiping tears from his eyes.

“You came to my rescue.”

“Jack came to your rescue. I was just along for the ride.“ Will snorted.

“Along for the ride? You shot a man for me.”

“In all fairness, he did have a gun, and was planning on burying you up to your neck in pig shit. It was merited.”

“Please allow me to treat you to dinner then, a thank you for that reprieve.”

“Hard pass. I’ve given up long pig. Actually considering giving up meat all together.”

“Allow me to clarify” Hannibal still wasn’t touching him, but he was as near as he could be. “I wish to take you out to dinner.”

“You eat out?” Will was surprised enough to be engaged back into conversation.

“It is a rarity, but there are a few place I will occasionally dine at.”

“And I truly doubt I’m dressed up enough for any them.” Will gestured down to his flannel and jeans.

“Yes, but I am, or more accurately, I will be. That, and most people have a very hard time saying no to me.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of that.” Will’s resolve failed him. “Fine, but you’re paying.”

“It won’t be very much of a treat if I didn’t.” Hannibal smiled.

“Where are you two going?” Jack asked.

“I’m going to change my clothing. I will assume that you’ll need it for evidence against Stammet.” Hannibal said, “And then, I am taking Will out to dinner. He doesn’t look like he’s eaten anything recently. Or you for that matter.”

“Fine. Just don’t disturb the scene, and take Will with you so you don’t do so accidentally.” Which was a hilarious thing to say to Hannibal if you knew the context for it.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“You don’t seem too particular upset about your patient being executed right in front of you.”

“Michael was not long for this world. He was going to commit suicide some time next week.”

“And how could you possibly know that?”

“Oh, I was actively encouraging it.” Hannibal said lightly, “Don’t waste a shred of remorse for him. Michael was a rich pedophile with a pension for little boys. When he was caught, he bribed his way into receiving therapy instead of jail time.”

“He was practically hand delivered to you then.”

“My thoughts exactly. Under my care, Michael began to see the error of his ways, of which there were many.”

“Have a special place in that Hell you call a heart for pedophiles?”

“What do you think?“

“You’ve already proven that you don’t like how I think.“ Will keeping his thoughts to himself. Hannibal’s time at the orphanage had been less than ideal, and had helped to mould a monster into shape.

“Have you taken into consideration that Marissa’s death took quite a big deal of Jack’s attention off of Abigail? It’s much easier to keep her alive that way.”

“So what? You were multitasking?” Will tried to wrap his head around that. “Protect Abigail, taunt Jack, and embarrass me all in one go.”

“I’m just pointing out that you take things too personally.” Hannibal said primly, but with a smile.“Not everything is about you.”

“How could I forget? It’s actually all about you.”

“Exactly.”

Chapter Text

“I want your most expensive bottle of wine.” Will told their server before the man could even breath out a word about their special creations for that evening. “You know what? It’s been a hell of a day. Make it two.”

The server looked back at him like a deer in headlights. “Would you like to hear about the wine first, sir, or entertain any other menu recommendations?”

“Nope.”

“Doctor Lecter?” The server was good, keeping the distress out of his voice as he next addressed Hannibal.

“It is perfectly all right, Richard. Do as Will bids.” Hannibal soothed, the server running off to do just that. “Do you even know what you just ordered?”

“Not a clue.” Will bared his teeth that could have been laughingly mistaken for a smile. The profiler’s response got a rare laugh from Hannibal though.

They had been given their own private dining area. Will had no idea where they were. They had entered a historical looking building somewhere in downtown Baltimore, taken a private elevator only accessible by a code, and traveled downward to some nameless fine dining eatery that if you had to ask the name of it, you couldn’t afford it.

‘Not a clue’ turned out to be two bottle of red wine, Romanée-Conti, Grand Cru, Domaine de la Romanée-Conti Burgandy from France aged from 2009 to be exact. The pair of bottles came with their very own sommelier as well who did the elaborate dog and pony show of serving wine. Hannibal seemed to appreciate it. In Will’s opinion, it was just hindered the immediate appreciation of alcohol.

“Why did she pour out of the bottle into another container that we’re just staring at now?” Will felt compelled to ask. He knew sweet fuck all about wine, and he doubted Arbor Mist was actually considered to be good wine.

“You ordered what is referred to as a ‘big red‘. It needs to be decanted for at least an hour to start opening up properly.”

“Of course it does.” Will said flatly, turning his attention back the server. “Bring me your most expensive bottle that I can drink now, like ‘pour it in a glass and drink it’ right now.”

“Red or white, sir?”

“Surprise me.”

“Very good, sir.” The server taking off again.

This next bottle turned out to be a bubbly this time, a Krug “Clos d’Ambonnay Brut Champagne, also from France, to be exact.

“You’re certainly making Richard’s night enjoyable.” Hannibal smelling and tasting the wine before enjoying it. Will was already on his second glass.

“Yeah? How so?” Will asked, frowning down at his flute. The champagne was too dry for him to enjoy, but he drank it anyway because it had alcoholic content, and Hannibal was paying. At least with whiskey, you roughly knew what you were about to get into. Whisky was whisky.

“The bill is already up to around $35,000 dollars, and we haven’t even considered the food yet.” Hannibal said casually as Will tried not to spit out his very expensive champagne in shock. “Excellent choices though.”

“Oh! Is that all?” Will said hoarsely, clearing his throat. “Whatever. You can afford it.”

“I find it intriguing that your preferred method of punishIng me is by spending my money, or more accurately, Brian’s money.” Hannibal looked amused about something. Will wondered why he was bringing up the suicidal pedophile Stammets had shot in his office.

“I don’t follow.”

“I am the sole benefactor of his will.”

“All things considered, I’m actually all right with that.” Will said after giving it some thought, “But I don’t know why that’s fascinating to you. We’ve already established that I grew up poor. That how the poor punish one another. I don’t know how to punish rich.”

“You’re not destitute anymore.” Hannibal pointed out.

“No, I’m not, but some things you just don’t shake from childhood.”

“That’s understandable.”

“l bet it is. You’ve had a quite a few things that took hold of you back then.”

“More than you would ever care to know.”

“That’s debatable. I think I care to know quite a bit about you.”

“I’m flattered.” Said the narcissist.

“Don’t be. I’m just trying to survive you.” Will shrugged, turning his attention back to the server. “Don’t bother. He’ll order for the both of us.”

“Please forgive my companion’s lack of manners. He works in law enforcement, and it’s been a very trying day.” Hannibal said as he gave Will a look. The profiler resisted the urge to kick the cannibal under the table as Hannibal placed their lengthy food order.

“I thought I recognized him.” Richard nodded, “You’re Will Graham.”

“Lemme guess. TattleCrime, amirite?” Will asked to get another nod. “Yippee. Lounds is a woman of her word.”

“I could have told you that.” Hannibal said as he produced a small bag containing ear plugs. “Richard, we’ll require privacy for the rest of the evening.”

“I will be a ghost then from this point on.” Richard said, accepting the accessory and doing a little bow before he left.

“Why don’t you do that?” Will challenged. He was personally sick of being everyone’s oracle. “Tell me something about myself.”

“You won’t like it.” Hannibal looked pleased about something. It was cause for worry, Will immediately regretting his request.

“Gee, I wonder what that’s like.”

“Do you know what you fear the most?”

“This oughta be good. What am I frightened of? Enlighten me.” Will said, slugging back some very expensive champagne like it was cheap whiskey to make Hannibal wince.

“You fear that there will eventually be a man so bad that killing him will feel good to you.”

“I’ve already met him.” Will muttered, but looked away. He hated it when Hannibal was right.

“How would killing me make you feel?”

“Just. It would make me feel just.” Will told himself and the part of the table he was staring at.

“I don’t believe that.” Hannibal “Which is why you are here with me. To prove the sprig of zest you feel is from saving others such as Alana and Abigail from me.”

“I didn’t feel a sprig of zest when I shot Elton Stammets to save you.”

“You never intended on killing Elton Stammets?”

“No, of course not.” Will said in exasperation, wondering if Hannibal was intentionally needling him about it. He decided, yeah, that was most likely the case.

“Pity. If your intention had been, it would be because you fully understood why Stammets did the things he did.” Hannibal said, “It’s beautiful in its own way, how you think. You give voice to the unmentionable.”

The admiration set Will back on his ass, the profiler looking up to stare back at his dining companion with a blend of confusion and fear.

“I should have stuck to fixing boat motors in Louisiana.” Will muttered as a plate was set down in front of him and his flute refilled, Richard taking it upon himself to just bring another bottle of champagne, getting it silently approved by Lecter with a glance and a nod before opening.

The Amuse-bouche was a single beautiful scallop, seared to perfection with a drizzle of a white wine beurre blanc sauce and a spritz of citrus.

“A boat engine is a machine, a predictable problem, easy to solve. You fail, there’s a paddle.” Hannibal dismissed, “You would be wasted on something like that.”

“Better that than floating around paddle-less and rudderless.”

“You’re not adrift, Will. I am your paddle.” Hannibal said, getting surprised bark of laughter from Will.

“Oh, this is going to be good.” Will snorted into his refreshed glass of champagne. “How so?”

“It’s not the act of killing that brings you down. What you worry about most is that one day it will feel good.” Hannibal said, “And I believe that’s already beginning to happen.”

“...yes.”

“Killing must feel good to God too. He does it all the time, and are we not created in his image?”

“That depends on who you ask.”

“God’s terrific. He dropped a church roof on thirty four of his worshippers last Wednesday night in Texas while they sang a hymn.”

“And did God feel good about that?”

“He felt powerful.”

Chapter Text

“You look tired. Come back to mine.”

“Why? Are you going to kill someone if I don’t?” All the wine had made Will carelessly brave, the profiler directing an open grin at the Ripper.

“I’ll do that anyway, regardless of what you decide.” Hannibal looked downright cheerful about that, the absolute fucker.

“Crap, I’m drunk enough to think you’re funny. That’s not a good sign.” Will said aloud instead of thinking. “Hold up. You can’t drive. You’re drunk too.”

“I assure you I’m not. You were very generous with yourself tonight, more so than I was.” Hannibal said, Will vaguely recalling that they had been drinking at very different paces.

“Fine. Whatever, but no funny business. I can’t drive like this, and a ride back to Wolf Trap would be expensive.”

“I promise to be the perfect host and gentleman.” Hannibal said as he opened the Bentley’s door for him.

Will rolled his eyes at Hannibal, deciding that it wasn’t worth commenting on. He knew he could insist on getting a hotel instead, but Will was tired in so many different ways. His body, mind, heart, and soul all ached, one replacing the other when it dared to lessen. All the wine had made him morose.

Dimly becoming aware of his surroundings again, Will realized that he must have fallen asleep in the car because he was back in Hannibal’s bedroom. Still in his own clothing, but definitely not in the Bentley anymore. Will hazily wondered if Hannibal had some strange kink for carrying him around.

“It’s not a well documented fetish, but it is referred to as L&C, which is short for Lift and Carry’.” Hannibal said, making Will realize that he was speaking his thoughts again. He arrived with a carafe that looked like art full of water and two glass, reminding Will that he was still very drunk, and getting a headache from all the wine. “L&C fetishism has been linked with anasteemaphilia, which is when one gets sexually aroused by having a partner that is taller or shorter than themselves.”

“You’re not that much taller than I am.” Will squinted up at Hannibal.

“True, but I am much, much stronger than you are, which is another factor that plays into this fetish.” The proof was in the pudding on that one. No need to uselessly argue that point.

“Well?” Will waited, getting no immediate answer. “Do you? Are you into L&C?”

“Not particularly. I just like touching you.” Hannibal demonstrated this by running his knuckles down Will’s cheek. Like always, the Ripper’s skin was winter kissed chilly to the touch.

“I’m your fetish?” Will asked pointe blank.

“Let me bathe you before bed. It smells like you’ve skipped a couple days in a row thanks to Jack.” Hannibal tried out his old friend misdirection. Drunk or not, Will was well acquainted with the concept though.

“That’s not a no.”

“Drink your water.”

“You first.” Will glared at the glass being offered to him instead of taking it.

“Will, it’s not poisoned.” Hannibal sounded amused that Will would even begin to think that.

“It could be drugged.“

“Why would I do that?” Hannibal seemed genuinely curious about the profiler’s answer rather than upset or bothered. Will tried to think up something to tell him, emphasis on tried.

“I don’t know, but you’re you so take a drink from both of them first.” Will ordered, Hannibal dutifully drinking half a glass from each to no ill effect.

“Are you satisfied? May we get cleaned up now?“ Hannibal handing off the water.

“I still hate you.” Will said drinking one glass after the other upon realizing how thirsty he was. Hannibal poured them another glass each, emptying the carafe. Will drank that one down too, but only after watching Hannibal drink his own first.

“That’s not a no.” Hannibal teased as he set aside the glasses for them. Standing beside the bed next to Will, he reached over to start playing with the top button of Will’s flannel.

“Why is there someone else you want to walk in us while we’re naked?” Will sassed, crooking an eyebrow at his host.

“All the doors are locked, and the alarm is on.” Should not have sounded like foreplay.

“You’re such an asshole.” Will sighed, rising up as Hannibal fell forward to press their lips together.

The kiss was...the kiss was like coming home, warm and nice and familiar, and Hannibal clung to Will like the profiler was going to disappear any second in a puff of smoke. Will knew he would have marks on his back from brutally strong hands. He didn’t care as he bruised Hannibal in return. It was everything he ever wanted, and Will cursed himself to Hell and back for needing it.

They parted to rest their foreheads together, both needing to breath. That, and Will starting to get the spins. He said as much while Hannibal quickly undressed them both. To his dismay, Will was picked up again, and walked over to the shower. The giant jacuzzi tub was already in the process of being filled. There was another carafe beside it, on ice and filled with what looked like juice. Will wondered what else Hannibal had had time to do while the profiler was blacked out, which it being Hannibal could literally be anything from a new crime scene to baked goods.

“You can’t keep doing that! Put me dow—Fuck!” Will yelped as he was put into a cold shower to be clinically scrubbed down. “What the hell?!”

“For the nausea. You were looking a little green around your edges.” Of course Hannibal wasn’t bothered by an ice cold shower, the only thing reacting to it were his nipples and dick. Will was sure the frigid temperature wasn’t doing anything kind to his nether regions either.

After a few minutes, Will had to admit Hannibal was right, the cold shower dispelling any sense of queasiness.

“Better. Want out.” Will chattered out.

“Good. The bath is ready.” And it smelled amazing, like something drinkable for a cold days, maybe with some whiskey added to it. Whatever Hannibal had put in it smelled tantalizingly herbaceous and lemony.

The bath was too hot at first, making Will’s chilled flesh sharply tingle until it settling down into something far more tolerable. The headache that had threatened to emerge from before had somehow transformed itself into a euphoric fog, one that Will was beginning to get lost in. Everything just felt so nice, sounded so nice. Vivaldi was being played somewhere in the background, entrancing Will to just listen in on it with his eyes closed and sway.

When the symphony switched to something else classical, Will opened his eyes to find the lights all had a multifaceted glow to them, and the sparkle of water was alluring, a little too much so.

“You drugged the water, you fucking prick.” Will confirmed by checking his eyes in the mirror like chrome of the fixtures which were suddenly so fascinating. His pupils were blown, just a thin blue line left around them. He groaned into his hands.

“I never said I didn’t. I will remind you that I asked you why I would.” Hannibal said, sounding so very pleased with himself. Will tried to stir up some anger about it, but then, Hannibal turned on the jets, causing Will to lose track of everything as he moaned in ecstasy from it.

“Molly?” Will gasped out.

“MDMA blended with a few others things, my own recipe.”

“I’ll admit I am surprised you do drugs.”

“Will, I didn’t buy these from some street corner dealer who’s cutting their product with baby powder and god knows what else. I’m very careful about what I put into my body so I make my own.” Hannibal pointed out, “MDMA is also currently being researched as a possible cure for depression and suicidal tendencies.”

“So what? You’re just ahead of the curve?“

“How do you feel?”

“Not gonna lie. Really fucking good.” More accurately, he was blissed out of his mind, every mind mirror and nerve ending focused on pleasure as he watched as water and light seemed to merge, dripping off of his fingertips.

“Come here. Let me make it even better.” Hannibal offered, and Will made the mistake of looking over to meet his eyes.

Will hated eyes. Eyes always showed him too little, or too much. In this moment, it was the latter.

“Oh...” was all Will could think to say as the entirety of his empathy absorbed all of Hannibal’s calm, his joy, his lust, his admiration, and something else that intensely burned in the back of all that, something Will didn’t have it in him to name. The empath surged foward, splashing water out of the tub as he rushed to kiss Hannibal, making their osmosis stop before he became too overwhelmed by all that was Hannibal.

“Wondrous, but not what I had in mind just yet.” Hannibal said as they parted, using gentle hands to turn Will around so that he could settle himself against the older man’s chest.

Apparently, what Hannibal intended to do was to run light trailing touches across and over Will’s arms, shoulders, and chest while gently kissing the back of his neck, and whispering foreign things in his ear. Will arched and moaned in response, his body alight with the pleasurable sensations that kept repeating themselves like the push and pull of the tide.

Hannibal seemed intent on making Will climax through soft nonsexual touches alone. They were both hard, but neither were in a rush, Hannibal content to press himself against Will’s back while he unraveled the empath with his gentle fingertips.

Will’s orgasm was almost an afterthought compared to the entirety of what he was experiencing, but by the end of it was enough to overload him, Will blacking out for a moment as he was held in place through it.

“Did I just ejaculate hard enough to pass out?” Will blinked stars out of his eyes. He wasn’t complaining, and it felt like it had done the trick for Hannibal as well.

“It would appear so. Drink this.” Hannibal had the audacity to say. It appeared to be a tall glass of orange juice, but then again, the water had looked and tasted just like regular water.

“I have to work tomorrow. I can’t be high all night.” Will knew MDMA only had a burn time of around four hours.

“No, you don’t. Alana is going to cover your classes, and Jack has been warned off as well. I’ve told both that you needs a few days to recover.” Hannibal told him.

“What is it? What’s in it?” Will side eyed the glass. He’d yell at Hannibal tomorrow about messing with his life, futile posturing it would be. He might as well yell at a cat for knocking cups off of ledges.

“Orange juice made from oranges I squeezed myself. No additives, I promise.”

“Fuck it.” Will was parched so he decided to roll the dice on this one.

“You should know that orange juice is a natural booster for MDMA.” Hannibal told him after he’d drunk the entire glass because the Ripper was bag of dicks.

“Of course it is.” Will threw up his hands in defeat. “Let’s move this to the bed. I don’t care how fucked up I am, I’m not sitting in semen water.

“Let’s.”

Chapter Text

Will awoke from a deep sleep to find himself plastered to Hannibal’s side, imitating a human shaped octopus. In all fairness, Hannibal was being one back, Will finding it difficult to know where one of them began, and the other one ended. Will didn’t know if they had fallen asleep touching foreheads, but they were there now, Will getting an excellent view of a slumbering predator.

From what Will could tell, Hannibal was actually asleep. The profiler took the opportunity to study the other man at his leisure.

It was an interesting face, even when it was relaxed, though Will couldn’t make up his mind if it were actually good looking or not, finally deciding it was the intellect and personality behind it that sold it as attractive.

A thin wide flat mouth promised both cruelty and tenderness behind inscrutable expressions. A scar ran across the bridge of Hannibal’s nose, tattling that it had been broken several times. Will wondered about the ‘who done it’. There was another over was his left eye from something sharp, probably from glass or a blade. It was a sharp face that had a history carved into it.

Regardless of it and its proprietor, Will gave into temptation, leaning in to kiss those complicated lips. Shark dead eyes opened in an instant, illuminating from within by a sudden awareness, strange reddish brown color they were. Will pulled back to rest their foreheads against each other again.

“You’re staring.” Hannibal whispered, Will grateful for it. Speaking in normal tones would mean they would have to get up and go back to playing their parts. At the moment, they were in a bubble of sorts, one made from the film of a new day and uninterrupted hours. Will could almost forget everything about Hannibal like this.

Almost...

“I can stare if I want. I’ve earned it.” Will whispered back, keeping with the theme.

“That you have.” Hannibal chuckled, “Eyes not bothering you today?”

“It’s just you. I already know all your sins.”

“Oh, not all of them, not even close, but enough to be comfortable with me.”

“I’m sure what lies beneath the surface runs deep. Someone, most likely several someones, had a hand in making you.”

“No one made me. I made me.” Hannibal said quietly, losing levity to sudden seriousness.

“I don’t know which is worse.” Will snorted, beginning to draw away. Hannibal had other ideas, his arms becoming a cage.

“Doesn’t it make you weary? Having to hide all the time?” Hannibal asked as he chased shy lips with his own. Will sighed into the kiss, closing his eyes as he gave in to temptation again.

“I could ask you the same question. Your person suit is very elaborate and perfectly tailored to you.”

“Person suit?” Made Hannibal’s usually tranquil face crack from grinning.

“What’s so funny?” Will had not been excepting that reaction.

“You’re the second person who has used that term to describe me.” Hannibal looked very amused and pleased about life.

“Who was the first?” Will asked. Hannibal looked younger, more human when he smiled like that, showing off his imperfect teeth.

“My psychiatrist.”

“You have one? For how long?” That was a lot to take in.

“For as long as I’ve been practicing psychiatry.”

“He-“

“She.”

“She must be a very unusual person.”

“I would describe her as more resilient than unusual.”

“She would have to be.”

————————-
She a short chapter
————————-

Okay! I’ve never done this before in the ten years or so of writing fan fic, but fuck it, ya’ll deserve something nice for supporting this. So lemme know if you want this to go episode by episode, OR if you want me to jump ahead to the episode Entree with Gideon.

I totally fine with either decision so please don’t be shy.

Lastly, I am now on vocal.media publishing live original content on the daily. I got four books launching there. Vocal is completely free by the way, but it does allow you to leave a tip if you think it merits it.

Lighthouses on the Edge of Infinity- is a series of horror/sci-fi stories about urban legends, the Mandela Effect, and time travelers.

Beware the Night- is an urban fantasy about how a human, a skin witch, and two elves saving the world.

Armoring Shadows- is a sci-fi about how two assassins, a dead woman, and a thief keep their city safe.

The Prose of an Honest Drunk- is a collection of poems I wrote while drunk, high, rolling, or tripping. (Not advocating the use of drugs. 2015 was a terrible year for me)

Stay safe, stay well. ✨💕✨

Chapter Text

“What’s that?”

“Your psychological evaluation if anyone asks for one. You are totally functional, and more or less sane.” Hannibal said as he finished signing an official looking document with a flourish. “Well done.”

“Did you just rubber stamp me?” Will went for incredulous, but ended up amused.

“Yes, if anyone should ask for it. Alana will be appeased that Jack didn’t break you, and our conversations can proceeded unobstructed.”

“Alana won’t be so easily appeased. She thinks I need therapy. She’ll tell Jack as much if she hasn’t already.” Will pointed out, “You’ve created a conflict of interests by having them both walk in on us.”

“What you need is way out of dark places when Jack send you there. Alana will care more about that than our relationship.”

“You offering to be my guide out of those dark places? Plan on showing me all the sights along the way?” Will was back in Hannibal’s intimating office, upstairs busily shelving books in the wrong places on the sly. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something. He decided not to comment about it the R word. “Last time he sent me into a dark place, I brought back more than I wanted.”

“Abigail” Brought Will up short.

“I was more referring to you, but we can talk about her if you want.” Will changed directions, wondering where this was going. He was a little stunned that the narcissistic serial killer was passing on an opportunity to talk about himself.

“She comes with certain emotional obligations regardless of empathy disorders.” Hannibal said in all seriousness.

“What is this? Do you feel obligated?” Will asked, leaning against the railing to stare down.

“Yes. I feel a staggering amount of obligation.” Hannibal would have continued, but Will started to first chuckle before falling into full laughter. “I fail to see what is so humorous.“

“You.” Will got himself back under control after some internal struggle. “Okay, I’ll play. Why do you feel obligated?”

“I feel responsible. My actions orphaned Abigail. That was not my intention.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have wound Hobbs up if you couldn’t control his directionality.” Will said flatly.

“I’ve fantasized about scenarios where my actions may have allowed a different fate for Abigail Hobbs.” Hannibal lamented, making Will stare at him in disbelief.

“You’re unbelievable.” Will threw his hands up, already fed up with Hannibal’s nonsense.

“What?” Hannibal had the nerve to look offended.

“Incredible. Is this your version of feeling guilty? I don’t know whether to be comforted, or worried that you can experience that feeling in any capacity.” Will asked incredulously, “Don’t involve yourself anymore than you have to with her. I think you’ve done enough.”

“Jack still thinks Abigail helped her father kill those girls.”

“He isn’t exactly the easiest person to relieve an idea from. I’m working on keeping Abigail safe from him.”

“When do you feel safe, Will?”

“Why should I tell you?” Will shot back to receive an unimpressed look of ‘quit wasting both our time’. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I leave the lights on in my little house...and walk across the flat fields.” He sighed, “And when I look back from a distance, the house is like a boat on a sea. It’s really the only time I feel safe.”

“You stand in the breathing silence of killers, the spaces they move through. Tell me, Will, do they speak to you in your dreams?”

“With noise and clarity.”

“You can sense others madness. Like bloodhound.” Hannibal said, “Do you feel like you’re becoming these killers? Catching their madness?”

“I know who I am. I’m not anyone else except for myself, Dr. Lecter.” Will stated firmly in a tone that brooked no argument, and oh, Hannibal did not like like. He enjoyed Will using his name, not his title.

“I’d like to see your house.” Hannibal changed direction.

“Of course you would.” Will sighed, “You won’t like it. It’s full of dogs and dog hair.”

“I’ll manage.” Hannibal said as he got up to stand by the ladder, obviously waiting for Will to join him.

“What? You mean right now?”

“You’ve moved through my spaces at home and at my work. I wish to exist in yours.”

“Maybe I don’t want you moving through it.”

“I have your address. I can go see it with you there, or when you’re away. Which would you prefer?” Hannibal said with that thin knife smile of his.

“Let’s go.” Will gritted out. Of course, Hannibal insisted on driving.

It was well into night by the time they pulled up to the white two story farmhouse. The mist had already rolled in, surrounding the house like an ocean.

“Beautiful. It is just how you described.”

“If you hurt my dogs, I will kill you.” Will promised. It had been weighing on his mind.

“My cruelty is reserved for those who deserve it.” Hannibal said lightly, “And I happen to like animals. Shall we?”

Having Hannibal in his home was surreal, Will watching him intently as he took his time looking at everything. The dogs were elated that there was another set of hands in the house to pet them, which much to Will’s surprise, Hannibal dutifully did for each canine. It was equally disconcerting how well the dogs got on with him, Buster his new best friend. So much for animals being able to sense evil.

“Do you play?” Hannibal asked, tapping out a few note on the upright piano in the corner. It was woefully out of tune.

“No. Came with the house.” Will said, wondering what Hannibal thought of all his many little dog statues, mismatched furniture, and his bed in the living room.

The upstairs had more furniture that wasn’t his, pictures of dead strangers still on the walls. Only spiders and dust lived up there, but Hannibal explored it nonetheless. The kitchen was simple compared to Hannibal’s own, stocked well enough to be functional a bachelor who mostly just made coffee and fish. The faded floral wallpaper and antiquated art were chosen by the previous owners, left up by Will who simply couldn’t be bothered. The books, some decorations, fishing gear, and his work station for his fishing hooks were about Will’s only input to the living situation.

“How’s your nose?” Will suddenly very aware of how his house smelled.

“As perspective as ever.” Hannibal said as he read the titles of Will’s library. “You only use a total of three rooms in this entire space. Bathroom, living room, and kitchen.”

That was a very Hannibal answer, odd and a touch unsettling. “Is it everything you expected?”

“And more.” Hannibal’s attentiveness more suited for a museum or art gallery than trying to decipher the placement of Will’s knickknacks.

“Are you staying the night?” The question seemed to amuse Hannibal for some reason.

“It is a long drive back, and it’s getting late.” Once again, there was an amusement there, Will missing out on the joke.

“I’ll find you something to sleep in.“ Will decided not to dwell on Hannibal’s version of humor. “We’re not sleeping naked in front of my dogs.”

“That won’t be necessary. I packed a bag.“

“Of course you did.” Will let the dogs out for their last wee for the evening while Hannibal retrieved his bag from the Bentley. Compromising, he only went to bed half naked, wearing a pair of soft drawstring pants.

When Will woke up, it was not due to the usual horrors he suffered from. They dwelled in Hannibal tonight, who muttered in his sleep, the language of it foreign to the empath’s ears. Will was shocked to see that he was crying, the name Mischa coming up more than once. Will was unsure of what to do, but it seemed so wrong to witness Hannibal bawling like a child in his sleep. It was so...human. When Hannibal started to make small pained noises, Will decided to intervene.

Gently shaking his shoulder woke the monster up though, Hannibal reacting by grabbing Will by his throat, flipping them over so he was on top, his other arm raised to strike. Luckily for them both, Hannibal was the kind of person who turned instantly ‘on’ as soon as he woke up.

“My apologies, Will.” Hannibal said as he immediately let the other man go, rolling off of him. Will was torn between sucking air back into his lungs, and checking his throat for bruising. He watched as Hannibal touched his face to find it wet with tears. “Thank you for waking me up.”

“Must have been one hell of nightmare.“ Will said, his voice raspy.

“Did I hurt you?” Hannibal turning on the lights to look Will’s throat over with his eyes. He refrained from touching, something Will was grateful for.

“I’ll live.” Will grumped at him, getting up to get some water for them both.

Hannibal blinked in surprise when he had a full glass shoved in his direction. “Thank you.” He said quietly, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I lose sleep from night terrors often enough. I’m not about to let others suffer through them.” Will shrugged as he studied Hannibal.

“Even one such as I?”

“Not even you. Anything that can make you cry has got to be on its own unique level of terrifying.”

Will studied Hannibal’s bare back, his body as lined with scars as his face. It held history, long pale lines across his back. Someone had whipped him repeatedly at some point in his childhood, the scars old, and telltale consistent with years of abuse. Hannibal had said his parents had died when he was young. Will wondered how long he had been tortured for at the orphanage before Hannibal’s uncle found him.

Looking away, Will reminded the profiler in him not to humanize the Chesapeake Ripper. A terrible past didn’t give anyone the right to do what the Chesapeake Ripper did so extraordinarily well.

The empath part of him was not complying though. It could still hear the child Hannibal had once been, scared and crying out for another. Will wondered if Mischa was his mother or sister. He wondered if he should ask, if it were even safe to.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Will heard himself ask as he got back into bed. Hannibal finished his water, and did the same, looking over expectantly at Will. Gesturing for him to scoot in, Will smiled at how bizarre his life was, him being the comforting big spoon for the Chesapeake Ripper after a nightmare.

“No, but I would like to listen to you talk.” Hannibal said after they settled in against one another.

“What about?” Will yawned.

“Anything.”

“I truly doubt you’ll find anything to do with fly fishing particularly riveting.” So Will talked about what he knew best. He lulled Hannibal back to sleep with stories about serial killers and death.

Will recalled the case of the Saw Man, a particularly vicious sadist who cut open his victims with a circular saw, and then cauterize the wound with a blow torch to do it all over again until they died. Will talked about the Bougie Man who abducted small children, using taxidermy to turn them into dolls. He recalled the Lovers, a couple who murdered newlyweds after raping them both. Whatever had terrorized Hannibal was soothed by these retellings. Will wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

The call came for them both too early for either of their liking. Jack told them to get their asses on a plane. They had four bodies out of state, a ruined family praying at a table full of decay.

“What do you see, Will?”

“Family values.” Will wished Jack would stop fucking doing that, interrupting the reconstruction. For someone who was desperate for answers, Jack just couldn’t seem to figure out when to ask the right questions, or get his timing down. Hannibal watched him like a hawk, but at least, he was quiet about it. Taking in account of his nose, Will was surprised by how near the table full of rot and other spoilage as Hannibal orbited him and the family.

“Alright, Karen and Roger Turner. Childhood sweethearts. Owned a successful real estate business. Pillars of the community. Three children.” Jack reeled off for the team.

“Minus one.” Will pointed out, getting up to study a collection of family photos up on the mantle.

“Uh, son. Jesse. Disappeared last year. Last confirmed sighting had him boarding an RV at a rest stop on Route 47.” Jack said, “Possible runaway, probable abduction.”

“Or both.” Will said, counting all the picture with just Jesse and his mom in them.

“When misery rains, it pours.” Jack sighed.

“False faces in family portraits, layers and layers of lies, betrayed by a sad glint in a child’s eyes.” Will was getting lost in thought. That almost never boded well for other people.

“Well spoken.” Hannibal nodded, joining Will at the mantle to study the family photos.

“Norman Rockwell with a bullet.” Price was also appreciative of it.

“Alright, any signs of forced entry?” Jack asked.

“No broken windows, or torn screens. It’s all sealed up tight.” Beverly said.

“Yeah, they probably rang the front door.” Jack was not a happy camper. Will couldn’t blame him. Cases that involved dead kids were always the harder ones.

“I got bullet holes on the upper section of the wall, and again over here.” Beverly said.

“Okay, pull the slugs for ballistics.”

“They aren’t frangible. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Those elevated termination points match what I see on their bodies. Angular cranial impact coupled with acute exit wounds, conical spray. Shooters went low to high. Probably crouching.” Zeller said, the last part catching Will and Hannibal’s attention.

“When was Jesse abducted?” Will asked.

“Uh, a little over a year ago.” Jack said, watching with interest as Will and Hannibal exchanged looks. “What are you two thinking?”

“That they were low to high not because they were crouching, but because they are that tall.” Hannibal said, “That they didn’t have to break in because they were welcomed with open arms.

“Like I said, family values. Jesse came home to see his family,” Will swallowed tightly, “One last time.”

Chapter Text

Will hung back, staring at the family of corpses laid out on their tables. He was also watching the Chesapeake Ripper obscenely having the time of his life. Hannibal wandered around with an autopsy report in hand, taking turns between making astute observations, preening, and chatting up the techs.

Hannibal seemed to really enjoy Price’s dry wit and hobbies. They currently had an ongoing conversation about bees. Hannibal liked how Beverly asked smart questions, and admired her insatiable curiosity. It amazed Will that Hannibal even got along with Zeller, the two trading off in black humor.

“I’m glad we didn’t have guns in my house. Would’ve shot my sisters to get ‘em out of the bathroom.” Zeller said over the body of the little girl, tastelessly done so in Will’s opinion.

“I liked having a big family.” Beverly said. Will wasn’t surprised by this. She seemed the type.

“My parents gave me a gift: a twin. Who wouldn’t want two of me?” Price poked fun at himself.

“What does your brother do?” Hannibal asked.

“He’s an undertaker.” Price said without missing beat. “As you can imagine, we’re a delight to have over at family dinners.”

“Let me guess.” Zeller turned towards Will. “Only child.”

“Why do you say that?” Will said tonelessly, keeping his response in neutral.

“‘Cause family is usually a catalyst for personality development.” Zeller looked way to pleased himself about the quality of that joke.

“I was the eldest so all the friction rolled downhill.” Beverly peace made. She liked Will, appreciated how freaking weird he was, though recently, Zeller seemed more accepting of him as well.

“Yes, all the attention and responsibilities heaped on the first-born children prepares them for success in the future.” Jack said, reminding everyone in the room that he was there. He was prowling around the dead like they were going to start volunteering answers.

“My baby sister got away with murder. She had them all fooled.” Beverly said, and if Will had been looking anywhere else other than at Hannibal in that moment, he would have missed it. A very complicated ripple of emotion passed under the Ripper’s finely tailored person suit. Sorrow, deep gut cutting sorrow, anger, no, not anger, rage, barely continued within its confines of material, and...fear?

Fear.

It was there and gone in an instant, like a wisp of smoke, or the dancing of baked air off of mid-August asphalt.

“I thought the middles were the problem.” Price said.

“Middle’s the sweet spot.” Zeller smirked.

“Gotcha,” Will thought as he pushed off the wall to join Jack, purposely passing by Zeller.

“Always trying to figure out where they fit in. They can be great, uh, politicians, or, “ he tilted his head at Zeller. It landed. “Or lousy ones.”

“What about you?” Beverly asked Hannibal. “Where do you fit?”

“I don’t. I was orphaned at the young age eleven, the proverbial orphan until I was adopted by my uncle Robertos.” Hannibal said, instantly putting the room ill at ease, all while still not answering the actual question. Will wondered where he fit with Mischa, why she had never been mentioned before when they talked about family. Hannibal talked about the death of his parents with casual ease. Why not her?

“All the victims have defensive wounds except Mrs. Turner.” Jack dismissed the air of discomfort with their duty to the dead.

“There’s a forgiveness.” Will said as he looked down at Mrs. Turner.

“What kind of victim forgives the killer at the moment of death?” Jack asked.

“A mother. This is about motherhood.”

“Not motherhood.” Hannibal corrected, “ A perversion of it.”

The sentiment held true. Connor Frist was their next lead. They went in expecting a crime scene. Life cruelly did not disappoint them. The smell was just as repulsive yet different with notes of charred flesh added into the nauseous mixture. Another family of the dead was carted back to the lab.

“Mr. Frist and the children killed first, saving Mrs. Frist for last. Same as the Turners.” Jack said.

“Not exactly the same. Something went wrong.” Will pointed out, feeling grey around his edges. He stared down the burnt up body of a child, and felt weary.

“Not a single present under the tree for Mrs. Frist.” Beverly said. Another round of bodies, and there would be yet another dead family if they couldn’t figure this out fast enough.

“He took her presents. He took her motherhood.” Will knew who the mystery body’s identity was already.

“To give to another.” Hannibal said, “We need find out who is playing the part of Wendy, the pretend mother of the Lost Boys.”

“They’re traveling with an adult with some formative sway. It will be a woman, a mother figure. She’s looking to form a family.” Will nodded. They hadn’t been looking at the Lost Boys in their entirety. “That’s why they’re killing the mom’s last.”

“Shooting Mrs. First once wasn’t enough. First bullet travels beneath her scalp to its final resting place base of her neck.” Zeller said.

“And it still didn’t kill her.” Jack grimaced.

“This is the point where things went awry for them.” Hannibal said.

“Hydrostatic shock of shell hitting the skull would’ve cause brain damage.” Beverly nodded.

“Her body went into convulsions.” The most recent crime scene began to fill in with more color and clarity for Will.

“Shot her again. Put her out it her misery. Different gun.” Zeller said.

“So, it’s a safe bet that this Wendy, pretend mommy, shot Connor’s real mom.” Price mused.

“So who is our additional corpse in the fireplace?” Jack asked.

“I think it would safe to say that it’s Connor Frist.” Hannibal beat Will to it, the profiler nodding at that assessment.

“He had been prepped to shoot his mother, not watch her suffer.” Will confirmed.

“Connor couldn’t put his panic back into a bottle so he got shot too.” Jack reasoned out.

“Whoever shot him, disowned him.” Will said, “In every sense of the word.”

Will would have been happy to stay with the science gang, but instead, the profiler soon found himself at Hannibal’s dinner table with Jack sitting across from him. The mood he was in, Will didn’t see this ending well so he applied wine to that feeling, and hoped for the best.

“A modified boudin noir from Ali-Bab’s ‘Gastronmie pratique’.” Hannibal announced the food, “You promised to deliver your wife to my dinner table.”

Will aggressively drank his wine, earning him a side eye from Hannibal. He ltried to avoid thinking about Hannibal bringing up double dates, or heaven forbid, a regularly scheduled couple’s night.

“Well, we’re gonna have to polish up on our act. We can’t have you diagnosing our marital problems all in one fell swoop.” Jack said jovially, practically a different person with good food and wine in front of him. “What am I about to put in my mouth?”

“Rabbit.” Hannibal lied.

“He should’ve hopped faster!” Jack laughed as Will tried not to choke on his wine.

“Yes, he should have.” Hannibal smiled back, “But fortunately for us, he did not. More wine, Will?”

“Please.” Will managed, somehow resisting the urge to kick Hannibal under the table. With his luck, Hannibal would turn it into a game of footsy.

“You seemed haunted today, Will.” Jack said, shifting gears. Will would have preferred to be ignored for the rest of the evening, and just sort the recently adding gruesome things in his head.

“We don’t know what nightmares lie coiled beneath Will’s pillow.” Hannibal said, “Best to leave it alone.”

“No more than usual.” Will shrugged, hoping that would be the end of it. Jack really had no clue how his ‘gift’ worked. That Will had just lived through the fear and death of two families, living and being murdered as nine different people, five of them children for fuck’s sake. It had taken its toll.

“Children killing other children is not an unfamiliar notion to Will.” Jack wanted to play it like that then.

“You still suspect Abigail Hobbs in her father’s crimes.” Hannibal stated more than asked.

“You know I’ve changed my view on that now that I’ve gotten to speak with Abigail for a fair amount of uninterrupted time.” Will said, “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“Perhaps the nightmare under Will’s pillow is that he‘s wrong about her.” Jack “You were wrong about the copycat.”

“Thank you for the meal. It’s delicious, but I’ve lost my appetite.” Will told Hannibal as he got up. He was done. He was going to do something regrettable if he remained sitting across from Jack.

“Will needs an anchor, Jack, not heavy weather that sends him adrift.” Will heard Hannibal admonish Jack before going after him.

“I don’t care who you threaten to kill, I’m not going back in there.” Will snapped as he was caught up to in the foyer. His car was back at Quantico, but he could call for a ride there.

“I’m not suggesting you do, but you have had a lot of wine. You shouldn’t be driving.” He wasn’t wrong, but Will still wanted to fight, even if that someone was the Chesapeake Ripper. Will figured if Hannibal killed him, then at the very least, he wouldn’t have to put up with Jack anymore.

“I’m not sticking around here for whatever bullshit stunt you have planned.” Will snarled, “I am not waking up here to find you making breakfast for him.”

“You almost sound jealous.”

“Go to hell.” Will hissed, turning for the door.

“I’m afraid I really must insist.” Hannibal said, something in his voice making Will ready himself for a fight. It was a pleasant thought that he’d finally get to punch Hannibal. As he swung, Will knew that he would have to be quick, but as per usual, Hannibal was already quicker as he side stepped the blow, fluidly turning to strike. Will stared down at the emptied syringe that had suddenly appeared in his arm as if by magic.

“I’ll be sending Jack off on his way soon enough.” Hannibal sounded like he was talking underwater, or maybe his head was just swimming. Whatever Hannibal had injected him with worked fast. It dropped Will like a sack of potatoes right into Hannibal’s waiting arms. That was the last thing Will remembered for a long while.

Chapter Text

“You can’t keep drugging me.”

“Actually, you’ll find that I can, and that I also will.” Hannibal said cheerfully in morning greeting. Will had woken up to find Hannibal watching him sleep. It didn’t bother him as much as it probably should.

Will wasn’t sure how to feel about the events of last night. He had gotten wine drunk on a nearly empty stomach, and after getting into it with Jack, was dead set on driving home drunk to Wolf Trap, a mere two hours away. When that didn’t pan out, he’d actually tried to physically fight Hannibal, the fucking Chesapeake Ripper himself. Whose fetish seemed to be carrying Will around when he was unconscious. That also didn’t bother him as much as it probably should have.

Will had to admit to himself that it had not been one of his finest moments in decision making. Getting put to bed was decidedly better than getting a DUI, or being made into sausage. Although another part of himself was really worried that Will was trying to rationalize being drugged by a serial killer as a good thing. That said something about him, but he wasn’t sure what.

“What the hell? Do you carry that shit around with you, or do you have loaded syringes hidden all over the house?”

“Yes.” Hannibal smiled.

“I despise you.” Will sighed, shoving his head under the pillows so he wouldn’t have to look at the grinning psychopath. Will was fished out from the depths of the soft bedding to be held. Apparently, it was his turn to be the little spoon.

“Can you refrain from that long enough to have breakfast with me?” Hannibal said as he delicately nibbled on the shell of Will’s ear. It made Will wondered if the cannibal had ever eaten one before.

“Is Jack here?”

“No. Do you want him to be?” Hannibal asked to receive an over-the-shoulder withering look. “There will be coffee though, and I’m thinking crepes. Unless, you have a request?”

“You’re going to make me fat.” Will grumbled, “Crepes are fine.”

“Hardly. You’re eating for two with the amount of anxiety you carry around with you.” Hannibal said between kisses to the back of Will’s neck, taking his time getting out of bed. Will turned over to tempt him into staying. So, of course, both their cells rang, the two men already knew who was calling them at this early hour.

Will realized that Hannibal must have smelled his temper being summoned because he let go of Will long enough to put their phones on silent. Will wondered what its scent was like, Hannibal resuming his role of big spoon to nose at his neck.

“Tell me, why are you so angry?” Hannibal asked, “You’ve had this underlying anger this entire case. It makes you smell spicy, peppery even.”

Well, now he knew, Will mused with a sigh. “I’m angry about those boys. I’m angry because I know when I find them, I can’t help them. I can’t, I can’t give them back what they threw away.”

“Families.”

“Seemed fitting to call them the Lost Boys.”

“Abigail’s lost too.” Hannibal pointed out, causing Will to groan. He had been really enjoying himself up to this point. Will turned so that they were laying on their sides, facing each other now.

“You have orphan in common with her.”

“I think you’ll find we all have a lot in common with one another.” Hannibal said, “And perhaps it’s our responsibility, yours and mine, to help her find her way.”

“I’m not the one who made her an orphan. That responsibility is all yours, and yours alone.” Will sighed, unable to decipher Hannibal’s end game for her. It was like he wanted them to form a family, which made no sense when you’re a lone wolf, sadistic psychopath. “Something so foreign about family...like an ill-fitting suit. I never connected to the concept. I followed my father from the boatyards of Biloxi and Greenville to, uh, the lake boats of Erie.”

“Always the new boy at school. Always the stranger.” Hannibal reached out run his fingers through Will’s curls, his hand coming to rest on Will’s cheek. “Alone.”

“Always.” Will said as he leaned in to kiss Hannibal like it was the most natural thing in the world. Could monsters care about each other? Was this love, or capture bonding?

Will’s eyes flew open as he broke off the kiss. He tried not to think about how he felt as disappointed as Hannibal looked. Will also didn’t want dwell on how to got there. “Get dressed. We gotta go. I’ve figured it out.”

Despite epiphanies, high standards were maintained, coffee and crepes taking precedence first. Will called Alana Bloom while those were being created. He wanted her input, her specialty family trauma.

“Bangour, Maine. Stamford, Connecticut. Most recently, Reston, Virginia.” Jack said in greeting.

“Bangour, Maine? Why there as a starting point?” Will asked.

“Bullets we pulled were a match to a shooting there. C.J. Lincoln shot his mother, and then disappeared.”

“Is he milk carton material?” Will asked.

“He was last scene at a gas station with an unidentified woman.” Jack verified as he handed the report over to the profiler.

“Our Wendy and Peter Pan.” Hannibal said.

“That being said, this places each of the murders approximately 500 miles from the one before it.” Price said.

“You’re trying to establish a geographical pattern when the murders were weeks apart.” Zeller didn’t sound like he was invested.

“Patterns over patterns. Our shooters are minors, middle children from traditional, affluent families. There’s a pattern. Less to do with geography than psychology.” Will said.

“We know they’re moving south, so that means we wanna cover the border of North Carolina and Georgia. We need to get files on every missing boy within 200 miles of North Carolina.” Jack ignored the skepticism.

“Already done.” Alana said as she joined them.

“Doctor Bloom, what an unexpected surprise. That was very proactive of you.” Jack said, looking impressed

“I can’t take the credit. Proactive of Will actually.” Alana corrected. Will almost wished she hadn’t as Jack turned to him.

“You got something? A profile?” Jack asked, sharp and intense. “What kind of kid does this?”

“And what kind of kid follows a kid who does this?” Will pushed back.

“There’s no indications that these kids came from abusive families.” Jack wasn’t buying what Will was selling yet.

“No, no, no. Capture bonding. It’s a passive psychological response to a new master. It’s been an essential survival tactic for a million years. You bond with your captors you survive. You don’t...you’re breakfast.” Oh, and Hannibal enjoyed that, Will making fleeting eye contact with the Ripper.

“Without the interference of a leader, these kids would never consider violent actions.” Alana explained.

“I called Alana in to help us weed through the files.” Will said. “Our missing kid’s a boy. He’ll be small for his age, and underweight. A paradox in the midst of a normal family. He’s an outsider who doesn’t look like one. He’d have a vocation, something inventive, or mechanical.”

They made it in time, but just barely. It went as well as it could. The Wendy got shot by Beverly as the deranged woman took aim at Will who was unarmed at the time. To say Hannibal was not pleased when he heard about that would be a severe understatement.

Will was allowed to go back to Wolf Trap which meant someone, somewhere was going to get gone with extreme prejudice by the Ripper. Some poor unlucky bastard was about to earn a spot at the dinner table, and not in the usual way.

The case of the Lost Boys was over, but something still nagged at Will, enough so that he used the FBI resources to seek out a translator. Will might have not recognized the language, but he did have an eidetic memory.

“Mr. Graham, are you absolutely sure that you heard this correctly? This is what you heard?” The translator asked, sounding concerned and more than a little worried.

“Yes.” Will just knew he wasn’t going to like the next part. He remembered Hannibal bawling like a child in his sleep. What kind of wickedness was out there that could reduce a monster of his caliber to tears? “Why do you ask?”

“Because it translates to ‘There are baby teeth in my bowl. Where is my sister? Where is Mischa?’“

Chapter Text

The day started far too early for his personal liking, but then again, it had been started by Will so Hannibal was willing to put that aside.

“Although I may be, is it safe to assume you’re not sleepwalking now?” Well, mostly aside.

“I’m sorry it’s so early.” Will flinched, making Hannibal leave off the coffee making for now. Will had shown before the sun, reeking of fear and stress, more so than usual. Hannibal found this to be a pleasant awakening though, Will sharing this latest disadvantage freely with him, but also seeking him out right after it occurred. That deserved to be awarded.

“I shouldn’t have teased you. Never apologize for coming to me. My place is always open to you, day or night.” Hannibal said softly, cupping his large hands around Will’s face, making it look more delicate than usual. He needed to be shaved again, but that was something for later.

Will always closed his eyes when he was being kissed, and kept them that way. He trembled finely as Hannibal chose to deepen the kiss, the empath finally sighing into it as he surrendered himself over. Hannibal couldn’t think of anything he’d ever eaten that tasted sweeter than that.

Lust had its own heady scent, Will beginning to open up like a beautiful bouquet of emotions. While Hannibal definitely planned on taking this further at some point, it would have to be done skillfully so that Will didn’t have any cause for deniability. It would have to seem like it was entirely Will’s choice to progress their relationship further in the carnal sense. They weren’t quite there yet, but the tantalizing aroma of Will’s lust hinted that it could be happening sooner than anticipated.

Regretting what needed to be done, Hannibal parted them to return back to making coffee like nothing had happened. It appeared to leave Will confused yet clearly wanting more. He didn’t seem to know what to do with himself, standing around awkwardly instead of taking a seat like most other people would have done. It was apparent to Hannibal that Will wasn’t used to being invited to stay anywhere for long, or even offered a seat. That would have to be remedied.

“Come. Let’s make ourselves more comfortable. I willing to bet you have sore feet.” Hannibal said as he titled his head to the rarely used part of his kitchen, the breakfast nook, which was a shame. The space was filled with a pair of chairs and a table, dark wood that was hand carved in the Rococo style. Hannibal had picked them up some time ago in a small town just outside of Paris. It would be good for them to see some use and be appreciated.

“Um, yeah. They are.” Once again, Will looked caught off guard from someone showing concern and compassion for him.

“Onset of sleepwalking in adulthood is less common than in children.” Hannibal said as they settled in, handing off the coffee.

“Could it be a seizure?” Will jumping to worse case scenario, of course, much to Hannibal’s amusement. Will’s expression drinking his coffee was sublime. It was undeniably good coffee, but Will treating it like he were drinking ambrosia. Hannibal liked it when things crafted well were appreciated.

“I can take you in to see Doctor Sutcliffe again, but I’d argue good old fashioned post-traumatic stress. Jack Crawford has gotten your hands very dirty.”

“Stress? You don’t say.” Will snorted, “I can’t imagine why. It wasn’t like I was forced back into the field or anything.”

“I wouldn’t say forced.”

“Yeah, ‘manipulated’ is a much better fit.” Will said, asking to quit without wording it aloud. “I’m sleepwalking now. I obviously can’t handle it.”

“Somewhere between denying horrible events and calling them out lies the truth of psychological trauma.” Hannibal wasn’t about to let Will to do that. His game with the FBI had only just started. Hannibal hadn’t been so entertained in decades, every day a rare gift of something exciting and new.

“So I can handle it?” Will sounded incredulously about it.

Which was somewhat fair. He couldn’t handle...not how he was now. With a little incentive though, he could. Hannibal was working on that incentive.

“You’re sleepwalking because your recent experiences may have overwhelmed ordinary functions that give you a sense of control.” Hannibal offered a more plausible explanation than a seizure.

“I’d say my body walking around with permission was a loss of control.” Will still looked unsettled by it, but his ruffled edges were beginning to settle down.

“Sleepwalkers demonstrate a difficulty handling aggression.” Hannibal said to ruffle those edges in another direction.

“Well, I’ve had more than my fair share of that lately.” Will sighed, “You said Jack sees me as fine china used for special guests.”

“I did, yes.”

“I’m beginning to feel more like an old mug.” Will smiled, self deprecating but still there. Will was already a beauty, yet when he smiled, it was transforming.

“What you do takes its toll.”

“I should’ve expected that. I did enter into a devil’s bargain.” Will sighed, finishing his coffee with a look of regret like there wasn’t more.

“Jack is more the devil than I am.” Got a rare bark of laughter from the empath.

“This ought to be good. Proceed.” And more smiling.

“When it comes to how far he’s willing to push you to get what he wants, he certainly no saint.” Hannibal tried to recall anyone else in his life who he could go back and forth so easily with like he did Will, that he wanted to keep doing this with. It was a very short list with Will remaining at the top of it.

“A little pot, kettle there, don’t you think?” Will teases. He would have gone on, but his phone rang. Gauging from Will’s expression upon glancing at the caller ID, Hannibal was sure his own was going off too. “Speak of the devil.”

“Jack?”

“Looks like I’m about to acquire another chip in my porcelain.” Will said before answering his phone. Hannibal began making breakfast for them while the profiler was being filled in.

“Where are we going?” Hannibal asked, handing Will a refreshed cup of coffee and a French style omelette stuffed with wild mushrooms Will had brought him, gruyere cheese, and ham made from a dishonest antique dealer.

“Somewhere unfortunate. New Jersey.” Will sighed, “Oh, and there was a double homicide too.”

Room 23 was hideous, but not in the usual cookie-cutter, corporate motel kind of way. It had individuality. It had flair. It had plaid carpeting of all things, dark wood walls, and quite a few knockoff Bob Ross paintings of happy little trees. What made it truly unique though were the pair of angels praying at the foot of the bed.

“Hooks were bored into the ceiling. Fishing line was used to hold up the bodies and...the wings.” Jack grimaced.

The execution was amateurish, but the idea was magnificent. In Hannibal’s opinion, this killer had some real potential. He couldn’t wait to see more of his work.

“At least we know he’s a fisherman.” Beverly said as she dusted for prints.

“And/or a Viking.” Price added.

“Vikings do this?” Zeller asked as he studied the corpses.

“Vikings used to execute Christians by breaking their ribs, bending them back, and draping the lungs over them to resemble wings. They used to call it the ‘blood eagle’.” Price knew the most interesting things. Hannibal considered him very well rounded, and his honey was excellent.

“Yes, they also did this ritual upon the honorless. The Christians were more sacrifices to their god of war, Odin.” Hannibal said as he took his own look. If the opportunity presented itself, Hannibal hoped that he would get the chance to teach this individual some surgical techniques.

“Pagans mocking the God-fearing?” Will already looked worn out. Hannibal decided there was going to be a shave, a bath, and a sedative in that man’s future as soon as they were done here.

“Then who’s mocking who?” Jack asked, this art lost on him. Hannibal bit back a sigh. That notion obviously wasn’t what the artist was going for.

“No, he’s not mocking them. He’s transforming them.” Will said, setting the narrative back on track.

“I don’t know if it was a good night’s sleep, but he slept here. Hair on the pillow, and sheets are still damp. He’s a sweater.” Beverly said, moving onto examining the bed.

“Madness slept here last night.” Will was already beginning his journey inward, his left hand already starting to shake.

“He threw up on the nightstand.” Beverly said, taking a whiff of the ick on the end of her finger.

“Couldn’t stomach what he did, flop swear and nervous indigestion.” Jack said, Hannibal beginning to understand why Will found the man so tiring.

“Not nervous. Righteous. Thinks he’s elevating them somehow.” Will was all nerves. His hands were visibly shaking now. “I need a plastic sheet for the bed.”

After plastic sheet was provided, there was a brief exchange between Will and Jack, the profiler ordering everyone out of the room except for Hannibal. Jack began to argue to be told flat out that Will would walk out right now, and they both knew Hannibal would support that decision. Hannibal positioned himself by the door to ensure that Will wouldn’t be disturbed.

“This is not who you are.” Will whispered, probably too tired to realize he was even doing so. It was thrilling to listen in on his process.

“This is my gift to you. I allow you to become angels.” Was said like a prayer. “And now, I lay me down to sleep.”

Hannibal committed every detail of this to his incredible memory. This was as close to a religious experience as Hannibal was ever going to get, and he wanted to be able to recreate it later.

His truest desire was to elevate this scene in the flesh. With his unique set of skills, he could make real looking wings out of flesh and bone, but doubted Will would agree to sleep under them again. Hannibal couldn’t decide if he would frame Will on his bed in black, red, or blue silk sheets. With black, he would look a slumbering god, in red a saint being guarded, and in blue, a member of royalty sleeping, his rule one of divine right.

It took a moment, but Hannibal soon realized that Will had actually fallen asleep. The room having already been dusted for prints so Hannibal quietly wedged a chair under the door knob before going over to the bed. Avoiding the puke covered side, Hannibal knelt down to place a hungry kiss that would have made Sleeping Beauty pregnant to Will’s lips. It had the desired effect.

“What are you doing?!“ Will woke up to glare over at Hannibal. “This is a crime scene!”

“It is. You fell asleep in the middle of it.” Hannibal pointed out to watch embarrassment wash over Will.

“Fuck.”

“No one else saw.” Hannibal said as he offered his hand to help Will up.

“Thank you.“ Will said softly, not looking at Hannibal, but he did hold onto his hand longer than necessary, kept holding it, both men growing still.

Unexpected and unbidden, a memory of a feeling emerged from his depths. Of a much smaller hand clutching at his fingers as she learned how to walk, dependent on Hannibal keeping her safe while doing so.

“Are you alright?” Was what brought Hannibal back to himself. His hand was empty now. He felt chilly from the loss.

“Yes. Why do you ask?” Hannibal rebalanced.

“Something...complicated just moved through you.“

“You noticed.”

“I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I didn’t.” Will pointed out.

“Can you tell me what it looked like to you?” Hannibal asked.

“I’d rather not. I don’t want to make the mistake of misusing words to label something so sensitive.” Will said after a moment of hesitation.

“How do you know that? That it’s sensitive?” Hannibal moved the chair out from under the door. They were running out of time to talk about this in private.

“Anything that has that kind of effect on you has got to be minefield. I’m not about to tap dance my way through that.”

“Aren’t you curious?“

“I am, but I really like where my organs currently are in my body.” Will said, “You can tell me about it in your own time. I’ll listen when you’re ready.”

“Thank you, Will.”

And he meant it.

Chapter Text

One of Will’s worst fears had come to life. He’d done everything in his power to stop it, but it had been all for naught. In the end, Hannibal had won, and now, Will had to live through this nightmare.

“So, how did you and Hannibal meet?” Bella asked. She looked uncomfortable sitting at Hannibal’s dinner table, and had been on edge since introductions. Will already liked her well enough. He always approved of good survival instincts.

“Right here actually. At one of Hannibal’s dinner parties.” Jack answered for Will who drank his wine, and waited for Hannibal to return with the first course. Will desperately wanted a distraction even if it was the other other white meat. Hannibal had even gone so far to make him wear a suit. It fit perfectly, but that wasn’t the point.

Bella looked like she was still waiting for Will to answer her question, more than likely used to her husband’s manner.

“He determined I had encephalitis, and took me to the hospital the next day.” Which was the truth, but definitely not what she was expecting.

“That’s...unusual.” Bella tactfully searched for the right word for their ‘meet cute’ story.

“Yup. That’s us in a nutshell.” Will said. He’d never been a fan of small talk, lousy at it. His job was not small talk material, his family life was all canine now that his dad was dead, and he had colleagues and acquaintances instead of friends.

If Chesapeake Ripper wasn’t a prolific serial killer that specialized in sadism and cannibalism, Hannibal might have been the best thing that’s ever happened to Will. He tried not to dwell on that, or drink his wine too fast.

“A masterpiece foie gras au torchon with a late harvest of Vidal sauce with dried and fresh figs.” Hannibal announced the food, Will staring down at his plate.

The presentation, like always, was art, quite beautiful in execution, but here was a fucking animal’s jawbone on it as a decoration. It was really starting to irk Will that no one else had noticed Hannibal was a serial killer. He practically advertised it.

“Wonderful.” Jack was over the moon about it, of course, completely ignoring the oddity on his plate. Normally in their line of work, something like that was usually referred to as a clue.

“Jack probably doesn’t know it’s one because I haven’t cherry picked it out for him.” Will thought very uncharitably at the head of his FBI department. Bella, however, glanced over to exchange a look with Will. She was not pleased about something on her plate. Will hoped it was the bone’s presence.

“Mrs. Crawford, your husband introduced you as Bella. Are you an Isabelle, or an Annebelle?” Hannibal was good at small talk, thrived on it.

“I’m a Phyllis. Jack only calls me Phyllis when we disagree.” Bella corrected. That said something about their marriage, Will deciding not to look too deeply into that. He still had to work with Jack after all.

“So, named Bella for your beauty.”

“We were both stationed in Italy. I was army, she was NATO staff.” Jack “All the Italian men kept calling her ‘Bella, Bella, Bella’. Well, I wanted her to be my Bella.”

Will had no idea how he managed to do it, but Jack was quite obviously very deeply in love with his wife. That love was returned back, but something was off about Bella. If Will had to take a wild guess, his money would be on resentment. He could understand that in correlation with Jack.

“Mmm...Cold foie gras with warm figs.”

“Yes.” Hannibal smiled with a nod.

“Would I be a horrible guest if I skipped this course?” Were the words that came out of Bella’s mouth. Will guessed the bone garnish was a dealbreaker.

“Too rich?” Hannibal asked graciously. He appeared to be intrigued so Will sat back and waited to see how this played out.

“Too cruel.” Bella stated firmly, force fattened liver her hill to die on apparently. Will just hoped it wouldn’t be in the literal sense.

“Phyllis.” Jack admonished.

“Jack.” Bella didn’t flinch, or back down an inch. She was quickly becoming Will’s new favorite person.

“First and worst sign of sociopathic behavior: cruelty to animals.” Hannibal said, making Will glad he had been pacing himself on the wine.

“That doesn’t apply to the kitchen.” Jack said decidedly.

“On the contrary, I have no taste for animal cruelty, which is why I employ an ethical butcher.” Was the bull hockey that came out of Hannibal’s mouth. If the Ripper was ever caught, Jack was going to have to quit the FBI to avoid embarrassment.

“Oh, do you? An ethical butcher?” Will grinned before he could help himself. He was really glad he had paced himself tonight. It would have been really inappropriate to start laughing and not stop. “This should be interesting.”

“Be kind to animals, and then eat them?” Bella nodded in agreement with Will.

“I’m afraid I must insist on it. No need for unnecessary suffering.” Hannibal said, pausing to take an appreciative sip of his wine. “Human emotions are a gift from our animal ancestry. Cruelty is a gift humanity as given itself.”

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Will said, pausing to take his own sip of wine. He enjoyed the facade Hannibal was maintaining. He also enjoyed poking at it. “Being a psychiatrist and a doctor. I’m sure you’ve seen more than your fair share.”

“A gift that keeps on giving.” Jack said as Hannibal got up to play host, topping off their wine.

“Your perfume is exquisite. Similar to the aroma on the earth just after lightening strikes. Is it Jar?” Hannibal said as he multitasked.

“That is some nose you have there, Doctor.” Bella said in amazement.

“He really is quite charming, isn’t he?” Was not the reaction Will expected from someone who’s wife just got sniffed by a guy who decorates his food and home with bones. “That’s how he diagnosed Will’s encephalitis. I was there when he did it.”

“I first noticed my keen sense of smell when I was a young man.” Hannibal said as he poured more wine for Jack. That didn’t sound likely to Will, that Hannibal suddenly just woke up one day with this, but he also wasn’t a doctor, or had a super sniffer so he drank his wine and kept quiet. Something else was going on here.

“I was aware one of my teachers had stomach cancer even before he was.” Hannibal continued as he looked up from what he was doing to make quick eye contact with Bella, the exchange unnoticed by Jack who was quite intent on finishing his food.

Well...fuck. And there it was. That’s what was wrong with Bella, why she was so on edge. Will wondered if she was already hiding the pain of dying, if this dinner was as difficult for her as it was for him.

“It’s an astonishing ability to witness.” Jack said, his attention on Hannibal when Will and Bella exchanged looks, Will offering up a sad half smile and a subtle nod. Everyone was on the same page except for Jack.

“For our next course, roasted pork shank.” Hannibal moving to clear all the plates, empty or otherwise. “And I assure you, Bella, it was an especially supercilious pig.”

“Will, are you all right?” Bella asked as the profiler began to choke on his wine.

“Drinking problem.” Will wheezed, going for his water. He was going to be so pissed if he survived all this to only be killed by a pun.

Like all things, good or bad, they come to an end. It wasn’t soon enough for Will, but he managed. At least the odds of doing couple’s night on a regular basis had gone down significantly.

“Well, that was terrible. Thanks having them over. I hated it.” Will said as soon as the Crawfords were gone, Bella leaving distraught but hiding it well, and Jack as oblivious as ever. “How long do you think she’s got?”

“It’s stage 4, and it’s aggressive. Not very long at all. Less than a year.” Hannibal said as he undressed. For all his love of layers, when he was done with dealing with others, Hannibal enjoyed being naked. Will suspected he was the catalyst for that though.

“Eesh.” Will doing the same, even folding them to keep the other man from twitching. “And Jack really has no idea.”

“It would appear so. In all fairness, she’s hiding it well, and we both have unfair advantages when it comes to finding out hidden truths.”

“What’s it like?” Will asked, tapping the side of his own nose.

“Daunting and overwhelming at first, but eventually mastered over time with practice in compartmentalization and mediation. That being said, certain cleaning materials will make me nauseous. Fabuloso is one of them, the lavender scented one in particular. Play-Doh as well.” Hannibal said as they moved into the bathroom, running the water for a bath. They showered while they waited for the tub to fill and the scented bath salts to melt. “What?“

“I’m just shocked you know what Play-Doh is.”

“I worked in the ER for years. Yes, I quite unfortunately know what Play-Doh is. Absolutely vile odor.” Which was amazing to hear considering their last case that involved two families in different stages of decomposition.

“Wait, it that why you’re bathing me all the time?” Will said as he was being scrubbed down. He decided not to get offended about it. “Can’t say I blame you. I would as well if our positions were reversed. It must be like wearing canine cologne.”

“No, your cologne smells more like something that has a ship on the bottle. Much worse than dogs. At least dogs smell organic. I don’t mind them on you.”

“I keep getting it for Christmas.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to keep wearing it.” Hannibal grumbled as they got out of the shower to settle down in the bath. Scented wisps of steam were tantalizingly coming off the surface of the water, aloe mixed with lemongrass and coconut.

“Better let Alana know that then.” Will said as he rested his back again Hannibal’s front, the man’s long dancer legs bracketing him on either side. “Preferably in a non-murdery way.”

“I’m surprised. She usually has better taste than that.”

“She got it for me because of the ship on the bottle. It’s more of a traditional gag gift than anything. I’m also not the easiest person to shop for.” Will shrugged, “Exchanging gifts is uncomfortable for me.”

“Your empathy doesn’t do you any favors in the giving or getting.”

“Knowing immediately when someone is politely lying to cover up disappointment can be a real buzzkill. Knowing someone wanted more of an reaction from you can be just as daunting.”

“I will keep that in mind.” Shouldn’t have sounded so ominous.

Chapter Text

“Death makes angels of us all, and gives us wings where we had shoulders, smooth as raven’s claws.”

“Robert Frost.” Zeller guessed incorrectly.

“Jim Morrison.” Will and Hannibal said similtainouusly, though the room chose to stare down Hannibal about that correct assessment.

“Even a drunk with a flair for the dramatic can convince himself he’s God,” Beverly said as she pulled fishing hooks out of flaps of flesh that were meant to be wings. “Or the Lizard King.”

“No, wait. Hold up. You know about Jim Morrison?” Zeller wasn’t willing to let it go as he honed in on Hannibal.

“Who doesn’t like ‘People Are Strange’?” Hannibal pointed out, making the room laugh, Will included. His reasons were vastly different, but it was still funny.

“He’s a keeper.” Price chuckled.

“Don’t I know it.” Will said one of those filler phrases that normal people liked to hear in conversation, but was wildly appropriate.

“So, God makes angels. Jesus was fond of fishermen. Are we talking hardcore JudeoChristian upsetting, or just upsetting in general?” Price asked.

“This is a very specific upsetting.” Will decided.

“Increased serotonin in the Bloons is much higher than the free histamines, so, uh, she lived about 15 minutes after she was skinned.” Zeller grimaced.

“Powder residue on the neck of the soda bottle shows Vecuronium. Scotch and water, and a paralytic agent.” Price said, who wished he had some damn scotch.

“Kneeling in supplication at the feet of G-dash-D.” Zeller said.

“Supplication is the most common form of prayer. Gimme, gimme, gimme.” Price said.

“Religion was invented to ease the fear of death, and take control of the masses.” Hannibal said, looking over the lab reports. “Our Angel Maker has a brain tumor.”

“Are you sure about that?” Zeller dared to ask to receive a dead shark-eyed, flat look of ‘try me, bitch’ from Hannibal.

“They weren’t praying to him. They were praying for him.” Will couldn’t help, but smile as Hannibal started thoroughly educate Zeller about why he knew it was a brain tumor in the background.

“What is somebody who could do something like this afraid of?” Beverly asked, “Are you going to go save, Z?”

“He’s afraid of dying in his sleep. He’s making angels to watch over him.” Will said, “And, no, I’m not. He brought it upon himself.”

“That he did, plus Will knows better than to get between a predator and its prey.” Hannibal said, who was done tearing Zeller up one side and down the other. “There is not only one spiritual center of the brain. Any idea of God comes from many different areas of the mind working together in unison.”

“That’s why I am an atheist.” Price said, shaking his head.

“Maybe I was wrong. How do you profile someone who has an anomaly in their head changing the way they think?“ Will went back to staring down the corpses.

“A tumor can definitely affect your brain function, even cause vivid hallucinations. However, what appears to be driving the Angel Maker to create heaven on earth is a simple issue of mortality.” Hannibal said as he joined Will at his side.

“Can’t beat God, become him?” Will snorted.

“That, or the Lizard King.” Beverly said.

“You said he was afraid.“ Hannibal said.

“He feels abandoned.“

“Ever feel abandoned, Will?”

“Abandonment requires expectations. You’ll find I have none.” Which apparently was the wrong kind of thing to say to other people. The science team was staring back at him with mixed reactions. Hannibal too, but best not to get into that now.

“Damn, how sad was your childhood?” Zeller voiced his opinion first.

“If he were a classic paranoid schizophrenic, you might be able to influence him to become visible.” Hannibal broke up the unwelcome focus on Will.

“What, scare him out into the daylight?” Didn’t seem likely to the profiler.

“Might even get him to hurt himself, if he hasn’t already.” Hannibal doing his elevated version of spit balling ideas. He knew Will could keep up.

“If he were self-destructive, he wouldn’t be so careful.” Will rubbed his knuckles against his stubble, enjoying the sound of it as he thought. If he kept it up though, he was going to get shaved again.

“Unless he’s careful about being self-destructive. Making angels to pray over him when he sleeps.” Hannibal said, “Who prays over us when we sleep?”

“I advocate for sweet oblivion.” Price said.

“You really want to just cease existing?” Zeller asked.

“I think Heaven and Hell sounds too much like a bedtime story.” Price said, “My way is cleaner.”

“So what? You’re being practical?” Zeller asked.

“It makes the most sense to me.” Price shrugged.

“I’m hedging my bet on reincarnation.” Beverly said.

“Oof, that just sounds exhausted. Who would want to go through puberty ever again?” Price made a face.

“I might if I could remember all of my past life. If I knew what I know now in my twenties, lemme tell you, it’d be a whole new ball game.” Zeller said, “What about you two? Taking the stairway to Heaven, the highway to Hell, the merry-go-round of reincarnation, or being completely deleted?”

“ I've always found the idea of death comforting. The thought that my life could end at any moment frees me to fully appreciate the beauty and art and horror of everything this world has to offer.” Hannibal said, “Not knowing what comes afterward is the last great adventure. I’m not going to waste time worrying about it.”

“God can’t save any of us because it’s inelegant. Elegance is more important than suffering. That’s his design.” Will said, “I don’t want to go to Heaven. No one I care about will be there.”

“I was not expecting any of that.” Price said after a long moment of quiet.

“Have you been able to determine how the Angel Maker is choosing his victims?” Hannibal asked Will.

“He doesn’t see people how everyone else sees them. He can tell if your naughty or nice, or he thinks he can.” Will sighed, understanding it and yet not at all.

“So god has given this person the insight into the souls of men.” Hannibal mused.

“God didn’t give him insight. God gave him a tumor.” Will said, cutting through the Ripper’s drama.

“How will we find him then?” Hannibal asked him.

“We won’t. Not like this. I’ve already tried to reconstruct his thinking, find his patterns.” Will shook his head.

“The Angel Maker is searching for a sweet and easy peace. He hopes to feel his way cautiously inside it, and find it endless all around him.” Hannibal

“He’s gonna be disappointed.” Will snorted out contempt.

“You accept the impossibility of such a feeling, whereas the Angel Maker is still chasing it.” Hannibal said, “If he got close to it, that’s why he will look for it again.”

“So we are expecting another body if Angel Maker decides it’s time to go night-night?” Price asked.

“I would be more surprised by the absence of one.” Hannibal said, and he wasn’t wrong.

“Oh, what the fuck.” Was Will inner monologue upon arriving at the scene. A new angel was suspended high overhead. It was going to take a moment to get him down without destroying potentially vital evidence. Will and Hannibal stared up at the inconvenient corpse, the pair in very different head spaces about its placement.

“Why angels?” Jack asked when he joined them.

“Well, it isn’t biblical. His angels have wings.” Will said, glancing over to get a blank look from Jack. “Um, angels in sculptures and paintings can fly, but not in scripture.”

“The confusion stems from the popularity of the Putti with the artists of the Renaissance era. The distinction between the Putti and the Cherubim have also been blurred by modern english.” Hannibal added, “The depictions of chubby winged babies are actually giant angels made of various animal parts with four faces and four conjoined wings covered in eyes that guard the throne of God in literature.”

“He’s drawing from secular sources?” Jack asked.

“His mind has turned against him, and there is no one there to help.” Will said, wishing he could get a closer look.

“Uh, Jack, look at this.” Zeller didn’t sound like his normal self, Will preparing himself for what lay behind them.

“Are those...What are those?” Price was almost everyone’s reaction put to words. On his part, Hannibal had already noticed them, but he politely joined everyone as they stare down at the contents of the filthy mattress.

“Someone got an orchiectomy real cheap.” Zeller said, shaking his head at the mess.

“Doesn’t look like the victim.” Beverly checked with her flashlight, their angel intact down below.

“So they’re the Angel Maker’s?” Price looked askance. Will was a little surprised by that. Usually, Price was a lot more nonchalant, but Will guessed everyone had that one thing that gets under your skin despite all the experience.

“He castrated himself.” Beverly looked rather impressed about it.

“The survival rate of reported cases of self-castration are remarkable high, despite the blood loss.” Hannibal said, because of course, he would know that.

“So he isn’t just making angels.” Price said.

“He’s getting ready to become one.” Will sighed. He was met with some confusion about that. “Angels don’t have genitalia.”

“So he was afraid of dying.” Jack said, “Now he’s, what, getting used to the idea?”

“He’s accepting it, or he’s bargaining?” Will’s mind scrambled about, but he was at a loss about the thinking on this one, all due to the wild card tumor.

“So, does thus mean he’s done making angels, or is he just getting started?” Jack was starting to sound irritated. That never boded well for anyone.

“I don’t know.” Will said.

“Well, he’s not just killing them when he’s sleepy. I mean, how is he choosing them?” Jack was getting louder the longer this went on.

“I don’t know! Ask him!” Will’s exasperation got the better of him.

“I’m asking you!” Jack yelled.

“You’re the head of the he Behavioral Science Department! Why don’t you come up with your own answers if you don’t like mine?!” Will snapped back.

“I did not hear that!” Jack bellowed, his voice bouncing off the alley’s walls. Beverly, Price, and Zeller didn’t quite run away, but they definitely power walked their way out of the line of fire. Will really couldn’t blame them, or stir up any resentment. He would have done the same thing if he could. “Did I?”

Jack was obviously waiting for a response or an apology or both, none of which Will wanted to give. What he got was Hannibal putting himself between them.

“That’s enough, Jack. He’s right.” What was impressive about Hannibal was that he never had to shout to be heard. Hell, he hardly ever had to raise his voice.

“Excuse me?!“ Unlike Jack.

“Will is not some Oracle of Delphi that you can keep ravaging for answers because you don’t care for one of his predictions, or lack there of.” Hannibal was a wall of calm in the face of Jack’s anger. He was completely unperturbed by it as he took Will by the hand, taking their leave of him. “I think that is more than enough for now. We’re done here. We’ll meet you back at the lab.

“You don’t speak for me.” Will said even as he allowed himself be led away.

“In this instance, I do.” Something in Hannibal’s voice made Will think better about arguing with him at the moment.

This didn’t feel like the first time when Hannibal stood up to Jack in Minnesota. That had purely been about Hannibal showing off his power over Jack.

This time was different. Will didn’t know why, but it felt important he found out though, and to do so quickly.

Chapter Text

Something huge with a jagged, gaping maw made up of thorn teeth, and claws sharp enough to split hair howled from the pit that lived beneath the elaborate tile work, marble, and hardwood floorboards of his memory palace. Rage given form and purpose, it scarred the walls of its place within him. Its terrible voice shook the foundation.

No, no, no, no! You are mine. You are MINE! I will make him pay. I will make him suffer. He will beg, BEG, to die. I will show him levels of pain only I could have created. You are mine, and nobody, not even God, is allowed to lay a finger on you because you’re mine. Mine!

And then Hannibal breathed out calm, and placed himself between Jack and Will.

“That’s enough, Jack. He’s right.” The volume of Jack’s voice was impressive, but it would be a better tool in his inventory if Jack ever bothered learn some projection. It was like using a chainsaw instead of a scalpel. Both could cut someone open, but the odds of someone noticing the scalpel before it’s too late over the chainsaw are considerably lower.
“Excuse me?!“

“Will is not some Oracle of Delphi that you can keep ravaging for answers because you don’t care for one of his predictions, or lack there of.” Hannibal said, taking the brunt of Jack’s anger. It washed over him like water off a duck’s back. He was completely unperturbed by it as he took Will by the hand, taking their leave of Jack. “I think that is more than enough for now. We’re done here. We’ll meet you back at the lab.”

“You don’t speak for me.” Will tried to put up a token defense, but Hannibal noticed that the profiler wasn’t putting up any physical resistance. He wanted to leave.

“In this instance, I do.” Something in his voice quieted Will. They both knew that this was different than before, and both were bothered by it in their own unique ways.

“Stop acting like you care.” It was Will who decided to break the silence first back on their way to Quantico. He was shaking, badly, and trying to hide it.

“Will, I care a great deal about you.” Hannibal knew Will wouldn’t believe him, but he said it anyway.

“You can’t.“ was Will’s half hearted reply.

“You think I am incapable of feeling love. Do you really believe that?” Hannibal asked, glancing over at the empath to find Will holding himself. Crossing his arms, the Will shoved his hands under his armpits, creating a straight jacket of flesh in an attempt to ground himself.

“I need to.” Will was strained, struggling, fighting himself over it.

“Oh, Will...you will be so magnificent once you lose that fear that resides in you.” Hannibal almost wished he could make this part easier for him. Almost.

“It’s a part of me.”

“I could bring it out if you.” Caused Will to still in his seat.

“Not all the way out.”

“What if it doesn’t have to be part of you? What if I could give you the majesty of your becoming?”

“Whatever you’re planning, just...don’t, please.” Will said, “I know you’re planning to do something horrible.”

‘To me’ was left unsaid, but it still stung, probably more than it had any right to. Will was entirely right, of course, but it wasn’t something Hannibal wanted to dwell on. Some adjustments would need to be made. It was a little early on in this endeavor, but things were beginning to change faster and go in different directions than first anticipated. “Have I been lying to you?”

“You haven’t been honest.” Will took his time with his answer. He looked liked he’d prefer to tuck and roll out of the moving vehicle instead of answering.

“I’m honest.” Got a bark of laughter borne from disbelief.

“No, you’re not.” Will looked over at him, irritated.

“I’m as honest as anyone.”

“No, you’re not. You’re style of honesty is a crystal clear yet deep sea of omission surrounding a very visible perfect pearl of truth. People drown all the time because they’re convinced themselves or let themselves be convinced that the pearl is under inches of water instead of miles, and you let them.”

“You’re not fooled by the depths of those water though. You’ve never been in danger of drowning which is how we ended up here.” Hannibal pointed out the flaw in the empath’s analogy.

“Fine, yes. You’ve been mostly honest with me.” Will grumped, “What of it?”

“From this point on, I need you to trust me, no matter what happens. Can you promise me that?”

“Could you make it sound just a smidge more ominous?”

“Promise me?”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m not asking you to lie for me. I’m not asking you to destroy or plant evidence. I’m not asking you to harm another person. I’m not even asking you to kill anyone.” Hannibal said, “No matter what happens, I just need you to trust me.”

“Why?” Will asked tightly. He was considering it, giving it some real thought. Hannibal approved. In his opinion, only idiots, angels, and soldiers immediately volunteered the answer ‘yes’.

“Because your life will depend on it.”

“Of course it will.” Will said, exasperated as he threw his hands up into the air. “Are you familiar at all with the story of the frog and the scorpion?”

“By a river, a scorpion asks a frog to help him across. The frog denies him, afraid of being stung, but the scorpion points out that if it did so, the both of them will drown. Appeased, the frog allows the scorpion to crawl onto its back. Midway across the river, the scorpion stings the frog, dooming them both.“ Hannibal said, “I don’t suppose I’m the frog in this scenario.”

“When the frog asks ‘Why?’ as they drown, the scorpion replies ‘Just my nature, frog.’.” Will finished for them, “I’m adrift with Jack, and risk drowning with you. You’re making it difficult to keep my head above water. I guess we’ll see when the time comes if I sink or swim.”

“As good an answer as any. Thank you, Will.” It wasn’t a flat out no. In some ways, it was almost the perfect response. If Will had said ‘yes’, that would have caused some suspicion. A ‘no’ would have shone that Will was still too deep in self-denial of his feelings, and couldn’t be trusted.

Beverly was the one who was brave enough to approach them first. For whatever reason, Will had decided to place himself between the murdered couple in the morgue, staring blankly down at their corpses.

“I’ve never heard anyone talk to Jack the way you talked to Jack.” Beverly said. She liked Will. She got to live because it wasn’t sexual. There was no scent of lust marking her interactions with Will. If he had to wager a guess, Ms. Katz viewed Will as a sibling, someone capable but still worthy of her protection.

“I was out of line.” Will muttered.

“You were out of your mind.” Beverly sounded impressed, which put Will more at ease. He’d obviously been expecting a lecture.

“Was he though?” Hannibal kept his tone light and teasing, getting a smile from her.

“My ears rang like the first time I heard my mom use the F word.” Beverly told them, drawing a tentative smile out of Will, and a chuckle from Hannibal.

“Doctor Lecter, a word.” Jack ordered as soon as he was through the door.

“I’ll be back momentarily.” Hannibal assured, leaving Will in Beverly’s capable hands.

“Are you OK?“ Beverly asked.

“It should be me in there. I owe Jack an apology.” Will said, not really knowing where his head should be at right now. He couldn’t tell if Hannibal had just professed his love, his version of it anyway, for Will in roundabout way. He especially didn’t like this whole ‘trust me and you’ll live’ business.

“Like hell. Let Hannibal handle it.” Beverly shook her head, “Look, I know it’s a stupid question considering that none of us could possibly be OK doing what we do, but... Are you OK?”

“Do I seem different?”

“With or without Hannibal?” Beverly teased before getting serious again, “You’re a little different, but you’ve always been a little different. Brilliant strategy. That way no one ever knows if somethings up with you.”

“ How would I know if something was up with you?” Will asked.

“You wouldn’t.” Beverly smiled, “But I would tell you if you asked me. Return the favor?”

“Do you think Hannibal...” Will wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to ask her.

Don’t worry. He’ll be fine in there. He can handle Jack.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know when you two got together, people were and are still kinda freaking out about it.” “But he looks at you like you hung the moon and star in the sky.”

“What?”

“You’ve seriously never noticed him staring at you like you’re the last can of Red Bull at a frat party?”

“He’s a psychiatrist.“

“My psychiatrist doesn’t looked at me the way Hannibal looks at you, and I’d be worried if he did.” Beverly laughed, “I came over here for a reason. Zeller thinks he might have found our Angel Maker. We’ll tell Hannibal and Jack when they’re done duking it out.”

In Hannibal’s opinion, Jack’s office was rather dull, much like its occupant. It was such a wasted opportunity to present one’s self to the world, set the tone of their thinking.

“You wanna explain what happened back there?” Jack demanded, still riled up. Hannibal stared passively back at him.

“Allow me to ask you a very fair question, Jack.”

“Go ahead.”

“Are you listening?”

“I’m listening.”

“Would you allow anyone to talk to Bella the way you talk to Will?” Hannibal asked.

“I’m not following.”

“Will is my Bella.” Hannibal told Jack flat out, watching as the meaning of it sunk in. “If I were untoward to your wife, would you allow such a thing to happen in your presence?”

“No.”

“Then why would you think I would allow it?”

“I still don’t understand how you two...”

“It’s not for you, or anyone else, to understand.”

“Fine. Fair enough.”

“I don’t know how much longer Will is going to be useful to you.” Hannibal said.

“He caught the last three. The last three we had: Hobbs, Stammets, and the Lost Boys.”

“It doesn’t feel to me like he’s going to catch this latest one. I believe our Angel Maker is performing his own last rites.”

“You know, I’m used to my wife not talking to me. I don’t have to get used to Will not talking to me.”

“This is my own personal belief. You’re the only one I’ve shared it with.” Hannibal said. “It’s getting harder for him to look.”

“Will’s beginning to sleepwalk.” He added gravely, delighting in how it wounded Jack.

“Nobody is asking him to look alone.” Jack tried to rationalize his misuse of the empath. It made something rumble within Hannibal’s depths.

“But that is exactly what he’s doing. You know eventually what that does to him.” Hannibal said as he tapped down the giant angry thing under the floorboards. Now was not the time or place. Jack’s answer would choose his next adventure and possible demise.

“If Will goes back to his classroom, when there’s killing going on that he could’ve prevented, it will sour his classroom.” Was the lie Jack was telling himself to make all his choices righteous. It was for Will’s own good.

“Perhaps.” Hannibal said, pausing. He was really going to enjoy this next part. “Perhaps not, if I take him elsewhere, and he leaves this life behind him forever. Will could spend the rest of his days on white sand beaches, fixing boat motors.”

“Will would never agree to that.” Jack

“You know my Will like I know your Bella?”

“Leave her out of this.” Jack finally snapped.

“Then be more sensitive in how you treat Will in the foreseeable future.” Hannibal said as he got up, the one to end this exchange. “If you strike at my heart, I will strike back at yours.”

Their Angel Maker‘s identity was found through the cancer society’s database. Elliot Budish’s wife was a small thin woman who looked like life had recently put her through Hell. Sitting there, Mrs. Budish knew that she still had some ways to go. Hell was tricky like that.

“Have you heard from him since he left?” Jack asked. The question clearly made
her uncomfortable.

“I left him. And, uh, no, no, I haven’t.“ Mrs. Budish was nervous and worried, stank from it.

“Why did you leave?” Jack asked.

“Because of his cancer. Makes me sound like a horrible wife.” Hannibal thought that it made her sound like an intelligent woman.

“I am sure you had your reasons.” Jack placated.

“I took a leave from work to, uh, be there for him.“ Mrs. Budish said. She had tried, that much was apparent. Mrs. Budish was marked with loss and sorrow. “But what he wanted was to be alone he just kept pulling away, and keep pulling away.”

Hannibal watched as Jack took Mrs. Budish words and experiences to heart, the gaps finally filling in for him. Will, his darling Will, picked up immediately on it as well. He moved closer to Mrs. Budish to cover for Jack as the man withdrew to chair to quietly fall apart under the weight of his epiphany.

“He made it clear he didn’t want me there. And then, it wasn’t clear. And then, it didn’t matter when he was acting the way he was.” Mrs. Budish said, sad and low. “ It was weird for the kids. I mean, what kind of mother exposes her children to someone who is losing their mind?”

“Was he ever violent, Mrs. Budish?” Will asked.

“He was angry. But he never hit me or the boys.” Mrs. Budish said, “It was hardest on them, to see him slip away. He lost himself, and they lost father. I thought as he got weaker, as the cancer got worse, that it would be less confusing for them. They could just see him as a sick man instead of someone who was so terrified.”

“Do you think he was resentful of you?” Hannibal asked to twist the knife.

“Maybe?” Mrs. Budish blinked back tears. Jack was doing the same.

“Resentful that you couldn’t save him from cancer? Resentful that your sense of normal had not changed, but his had?”

“I-I don’t know.” Mrs. Budish was collateral damage to Hannibal. If his expression was anything to go by, Will was not happy about it.

“Did your husband’s faith falter after he was told about the cancer?” Will swooped in distract Mrs. Budish.

“Elliot wasn’t ever religious.” Mrs. Budish stared back at the profiler, confused. “Is he doing something religious?”

“He may believe he is.” Will said gently, and in that moment, Hannibal wanted so badly to paint him.

“Your husband is dying...Mrs. Budish, And soon. We’d just like to...we’d just like to find him before he hurts himself or anyone else.” Jack was managing to pull himself back together.

“He had a near death experience. He suffocated in a fire when he was a little boy. Fireman said he must’ve had a guardian angel.” Gave the room the ‘bingo’ moment they were looking for.

“When did this happen?” Will asked.

“Um...a farm....Where he grew up.”

In the end, only Jack, Will, and Hannibal drove out to the farm.

“This will be the last one.“ Will sighed up at the angel.

Hannibal wanted to applaud. The Angel Maker had not only castrated himself, but had also given himself his very own pair of wings before making himself airborne. The difficulty of this execution was staggering. Hannibal was impressed by the Angel Maker’s ability to complete it with a flayed open back.

“It’s Budish.” Jack needlessly confirmed.

“He made himself into an angel. It wasn’t God. It wasn’t man. It was his choice to die.” Will’s voice held a respect within it.

“His choice?” Jack challenged, but his heart wasn’t into it. He was looking grey around his edges.

“As much as he could make it.” Will shrugged, “Death makes angels of us all, and gives us wings where we had shoulders, smooth as raven’s claws.”

“As good a eulogy as any.”

Chapter Text

“Well, thanks to Freddie Lounds, there’s an unconfirmed story floating out there. That the Chesapeake Ripper’s already in custody.”

“Unconfirmed? Am I confirming? Fact-checking for Freddie Lounds...” That certainly didn’t sit well with Will.

“You’re fact-checking for me.“ Jack said, like that made it any better.

“Yeah? Well, fuck you too, Jack.“ Will thought hard at the other man’s head.

“Is this why you’ve been so pissy all morning?” Will asked under his breath as he fell along side the free range Chesapeake Ripper. Hannibal had been upset about something since well before breakfast.

“Pissy isn’t a real word.” Hannibal was, indeed, in a very pissy mood.

“Your level of pissyness would beg to differ.” Will said before running up ahead to walk beside Jack again, leaving a murderous little storm cloud to trail in behind them.

“I always feel a little nervous going into these places.” Will said.

“Why’s that?” Jack asked. Something about him had changed slightly in regard to Will, his responses a little more subdued than usual. It made the profiler wonder what had been discussed in his absence.

“Afraid they won’t let me out.“ Will admitted. Considering Chilton was in charge here, he was really rolling the dice on this one. He barely felt safe enough doing so even with Hannibal and Jack in his corner.

“Don’t worry. I won’t leave you here.“ Jack said, definitely nicer today for whatever reason.

“Yeah, not today.“ Will snorted softly, trying to ignore a foreboding feeling.

“Please, gentlemen, take a seat.“ Chilton was just as awful as ever, more so with whatever had gone on here on this day. Will and Jack sat down, but Hannibal remained standing to elegantly stare out the window with morose vibe, posed with hands behind his back. The result of that was Chilton looking a little butt hurt because the most wanted attention in the room wasn’t front and center upon him like he felt it should be.

“Thank you. Dr. Chilton. We are going to need to see the crime scene while it’s still relatively undisturbed.” Jack could be cordial when it suited him.

“I assure you, for something so disturbing, it is quite undisturbed.“ Chilton said, making Will want to roll his eyes into the back of his head. The man wanted to be Hannibal so badly it was embarrassing, the way he kept glancing over at the source. Chiton and Franklin, Hannibal’s patient from before, were like funhouse mirror caricatures of the man, just in different variations.

“Why was a nurse left alone with a prisoner in a high security psychiatric hospital?” Will asked, direct and a touch harsh, pleased when Chilton lost some of his pomp.

“I was wondering that myself. Elizabeth Shell was an exceptional nurse. Her compassion and good humor will be notably missed from this establishment.” Hannibal said gravely, making Chilten even more uncomfortable.

“Oh, you knew her?” Chilton asked somewhat shrilly, looking to mollify the situation as quickly as possible.

“Yes, we worked side by side at John Hopkins for several years. I recall she was exemplary in her duties.” Which did not bode well for Chilton. Hannibal had a deep appreciation for nurses. It would also be a dire insult if someone used his methods to dispatch a human he deemed worthy of living. Someone was going to be paying in pounds of flesh for it.

“For the two years since he was brought here, Gideon behaved perfectly and gave every appearance of cooperating with attempts at therapy. As directed by our president administrator, security around him was slightly...relaxed.” Chilton tried to cover his ass. No one was impressed by it. “I can’t help feel responsible myself for what happened. He sat directly across from me, and I had no idea what he was hiding. And now, one of our staff is dead.”

“As you should, Frederick.” Hannibal said, leaving off the window to come lean against the back of Will’s chair, who tried not to think about talking ravens and the macabre.

“ I understand, Dr. Chilton. Mr. Graham is going to need to see the crime scene with as much privacy as you can m.” Jack played peacemaker.

“Oh, yes, that thing you do.” Chilton said, like it hadn’t been on the forefront of everybody’s mind. He was trying his focus upon Will down, but kept getting distracted by the master of the deadeye stare standing behind the profiler.

“Yes, that thing I do. I’d like to see the crime scene now.” Will mocked back.

“So Gideon was restrained?” Jack asked , the men leaving the office to follow Chilton.

“Handcuffed.” Chilton confirmed.

“Hmm..” Jack made a noncommittal noise, a law enforcement go-to intended to prompt more information.

“He concealed a fork tine in the palm of his hand, and used it to pick the lock.“ Chilton explained.

“ Where is he now?“ Will asked.

“In his cell. You’ll note the removal of organs and the abdominal mutilations are all consistent with the Chesapeake Ripper.” Chilton said.

“So is the brutalization of the corpse, but that doesn’t change the fact that the Ripper is still out there.” Jack said with unfounded yet accurate certainty.

“Jack, what I’m about to show you will suggest otherwise.” Chilton said with such confidence, Will had to look anywhere, but Hannibal to keep from laughing at a truly horrific crime scene.

“The fuck it does.” Will thought despite himself, choking down mounting humor.

“Dr. Chilton consulted on the case when we failed to catch the Ripper after his last series of murders.“ Jack supplied.

“Did he now.” Will drawled out with sudden insight. So that’s how Gideon decided upon becoming the Chesapeake Ripper. This was going to be a case of pure plagiarism. In Will’s opinion, it was a hell of a way to make it back to Hannibal’s table. The profiler debated with himself on whether or not if he would eat Chilton. Meanwhile, Hannibal had the same energy of an insulted cat, one that was tapping its tail.

“The reason you failed and keep failing to catch the Chesapeake Ripper was that I already had him.“ Chilton said with such finesse he must have rehearsed it.

Will couldn’t help it. He laughed and laughed, making everyone more and more uncomfortable the longer it went on. Staring at Nurse Shell, Hannibal was too busy being quietly pissed while composed about to notice at first, which made Will laugh all the more.

“I fail to see what’s so funny. This is a very serious matter. We finally know who the Chesapeake Ripper is.” Chilton said incredulously at last, the real Chesapeake Ripper standing right next to him, which did nothing to elevate the situation.

“I would have to concur with Doctor Chilton, Will.” Hannibal said in all seriousness as Will looked back at him with bright eyes and a wide grin. “Are you well?”

“Never been better actually. Sorry, sorry, you’re right.” Will said, waving the room off as he somehow managed to get himself back under control. Someone was dead, had died horribly, and all for nothing. “Too much coffee and irony, not enough sleep, tons of stress, everyone has their breaking it would seem, yada, yada, yada.”

“Let us know when you’re done.” Jack said, motioning to Chilton for them to take their leave. It was nice to know which priorities Jack had in order. Anyone else would have told Will to leave after that little outburst.

“Aren’t we staying?” Chilton asked, a last minute monkey wrench suddenly thrown into his plans.

“Nope.” Will said quite firmly.

“Hannibal is staying.” Chilton pointed out, stubborn and petulant.

“Yup. He sure is.” Will said as he shut the door in Chilton’s face.

It was the easiest reconstruction because Will didn’t bother to relive it. Hannibal noticed immediately, the two of them have a silent argument about it. It was mostly made up of part mime and silently worded phases.

The Ripper gave Will a very sour look when the profiler finally opened the door, hamming it up for Jack and Chilton’s return. Will draped himself against the doorframe like it was the only thing propping him up, shaking and gasping for air.

“I dunno, Jack. This is really on point.” Will said as he put back on his glasses as dramatically as possible. He threw in some hand trembling as a finishing touch. He got to witness Hannibal imploded in the most contained way possible as Chilton preened and made some rather annoying noises about being right.

“You think Gideon the Ripper?” Jack asked while Hannibal gave him a sharp warning look.

“And as far as we know, it’s been over two years since the Chesapeake Ripper killed?” Will said fake thoughtfully, “When was Gideon committed?”

“Two years ago.” Chilton smugly supplied. Hannibal was absolutely seething now, staring Will down with dark eyes full of cruel intent behind Jack.

“I will point out that the brutalization of the body was performed posthumously. That certainly doesn’t fit with the Ripper’s methodology.” Hannibal intervened, couldn’t help himself really.

“True, but if Gideon was just scratching an old itch, he might have been allowing himself some editing due to time constraints. Could be a case of making anything old new again.” Will parried easily, Hannibal’s person suit getting frayed along its edges. “I’m just not sure. Don’t want to risk being wrong. We’re going to have to interview him.”

As much fun as it was to screw with Hannibal, as soon as they arrived
to contend with Gideon, Will was all business. The man himself lounged around his cell, obviously quite pleased with himself. “I don’t know you two. That’s interesting.” Gideon said in greeting.

“Were you expecting a familiar face?” Hannibal asked as he sized up his imposter. He didn’t look impressed by what he found.

“I think we can both agree that Doctor Bloom is far more favorable company. I was hoping her, but you’ll do.” Gideon said, “At least one of you dressed appropriately for the occasion.”

“We’ll just have to agree to disagree then.” Will said, making look Gideon keen as he studied them back.

“Oh, I see. Traded out and up. Can’t say I blame you. His shoes cost more than everything you currently have on your body. That includes whatever cash you may, or more than likely may not have, in your wallet, and you know what they say about men with big feet.” Gideon smirked, “I’ve met a lot of psychiatrists in the last two years. They must have brought you two in special for me.”

“In a manner of speaking.” Will said, giving Gideon nothing back. “I’m Special Agent Will Graham, and this is Doctor Hannibal Lecter.”

“Ah, I do know you both after all, in the peripheral of different social circles. Interesting.” Gideon said, maneuvering to establish himself. “ So, Agent Graham, what is this to be? I was caught red-handed. I mean literally, there’s no mystery as to whodunit. I did it. Not much left for a pig and his poke to deduce.”

“The mystery is whether you are who you say you are.“ Will went for mildly ‘not worth my time’ condescending to get well in under the skin . “Or not.”

“Never liked being called that. The Chesapeake Ripper.” And that ruffled some feathers. “Maybe some thing with a little bit more wit.”

Bad move of Gideon’s part. Hannibal happened to be quite proud of his title, enjoying the reference to another doctor and fellow serial killer, dear old Jack.

“Is that why you didn’t take credit for the Ripper’s murders before now?“ Hannibal asked. Will could tell by the glint in his eyes that Hannibal was ready to go, the men parting to stand in different places. Will leaned against a far wall while Hannibal placed himself directly in front of Gideon, their locations making it impossible for him to keep both men in his line of sight at the same time. To look at one would expose himself to the other. Didn’t matter he was in his cell or not. Gideon was feeling more exposed than safe.

“Just watching the goose chase from the box seats.“ Gideon said loftily, though he was starting to unsettle. There were lions in the room after all.

“Two years of goose chasing. You must be a very patient man.“ Will went next, conveying this with paper cut disdain in his voice to get Gideon’s goose.

“Are you going to run the psychopathic checklist here? I have had my personality inventory by the Minnesota multiphasic.“ It had the desired effect. Gideon was starting his dissent.

“Would you prefer a Rorschach test?” Hannibal offered, cool and aloof.

“Well, if you’re gonna show me those pictures, maybe you should put a blood pressure cuff to my genitals. I find it gives a much truer gauge of reaction.” Gideon switched tactics, trading out illusions of grandeur for vulgarity. It left his strange company visibly unaffected.

“What effect were you hoping to have by killing the night nurse?” Will asked, arranging himself to work in tandem of compare and contrast. Hannibal maintained an air of glacier clinical indifference, focusing on Gideon as if he were a moth pinned in place, while Will’s posturing was all lazy boned boredom, a disinterested observer here out of necessity. They were not the expected, wanted company Gideon had been ready to deal with.

“The fact I was hoping to have was her death. Mission accomplished.“ Gideon said, getting louder. He was not getting the validation he so desperately wanted. He was beginning to notice that the costume identity he had been made to wear didn’t really quite fit him. It didn’t help his nerves either that anytime he was looking at one of them, the other made an ever so slight movement in his peripheral vision. It made Gideon look like he was watching a tennis match rather than being interviewed.

“Brutalization of the body was done post-humorously.” Hannibal pointed out.

“Thing is...the Chesapeake Ripper usually does that sort of thing during,” Will said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Not after.”

“I do not have to convince you that I am the Chesapeake Ripper.” Gideon all but demanded.

“Seems that is what you need to do.” Hannibal said coolly, making Gideon shrink back further into his cell.

“Certainly what someone needs.” Will said as they took their leave of Gideon, having heard more than enough.

“It would appear Gideon has bitten off more than he can chew.” Hannibal said.

“Funny that. I was about to say the same thing about Chilton.”

Chapter Text

“There’s no detectable consistency with the ripper‘s victims. He doesn’t hunt exclusively within his own ethnic group. He’s killed all creeds, colors, men and women.”

They were back at Quantico now, Beverly kicking off the debate on whether or not Gideon was the Ripper.

“She has the exact same wound patterns as the last known victim of the Chesapeake Ripper. I mean exact.” Zeller insisted, not winning any brownie points with Hannibal.

“ We never found a body for his last known victim.“ Jack pointed out.

“Then the victim before that.“ Zeller said as he attempted to backpedal.

“I see the Ripper, but I don’t...feel the Ripper.” Will said in all seriousness, giving up on any trace of farce. He already knew Hannibal was going to make him regret today. No reason to further inflame an open wound. “This is definitely plagiarism.”

“We never made the wound patterns of the Ripper’s victims public.” Jack made Will want to throw his hands up in frustration, and just flat out quit.

“Did you not say that Chilton used to consult for you?” Apparently, Hannibal was not going to put up with any of Jack’s back and forth bullshit on this day. Will turned away to hide his momentary amusement.

“Yeah. Why?” It got Jack’s attention.

“I believe Gideon may have been tampered with.” Hannibal said, “Some individuals are very susceptible to psychic driving. I think Gideon might be one of them.”

“You think he’s been led to believe that he is the Ripper by Doctor Chilton?“ Jack already looked convinced. Will hated them both for it.

“It’s unethical, but entirely possible.” Hannibal said.

“Damn, that’s one hell of a mind fuck.” Beverly said.

“What do you think Will?” Jack asked, like it mattered. Will was ready to leave.

“I think that if Gideon’s a plagiarist, then the real Chesapeake Ripper is gonna make everyone know it if we’re not careful. At the moment, Freddie Lounds’s story is unconfirmed, making it the usual forgettable tabloid garage. If we leave it that way, the Ripper may choose to ignore it. At the very least, he’ll have more reason to go after her than anyone else.” Will said, attempting to keep Hannibal in check. It would probably be as successful as herding cats.

“Terrible shame if she ended up putting a target on her back.” Price said dryly.

“I wouldn’t wish that kind of killer on anyone, though if the Ripper did, I’d have to say that she brought it upon herself.” Beverly surmised for them all.

“Spend a career poking at crazy, it shouldn’t be a surprise when it pokes back.” Will could tell that Zeller was as still sore about being used by the reporter. On that note, Hannibal and Will took their leave.

“I’m not going to kill, Ms. Lounds.” Hannibal said as soon as they got into the Bentley.

“Perish the thought, but you do have to admit she’s been terribly rude.” Will said, instead of ‘oh c’mon, why the fuck not’.

“Luckily for her, she’s also terribly talented.”

“So she is purely still alive because you like how she writes about you? Unbelievable. You are absolutely shameless.”

“She has a flair for the dramatic.” Said the king of the dramatic. “But if you ask me to kill her, I will. All you have to do is ask, be sincere about it, and I’ll make her go away.”

Will was blindsided by that last part, but not for the reasons he would have thought. His gut reaction to the Chesapeake Ripper’s offer was a whispered ‘yes’ from deep within him, voiced in harmony by pride, want, and lust, each revelation more surprising than the last. That part of himself that Will always endeavored to ignore it was pleased: fascinated by the offer, greedy for it, grateful for it.

“That would be...be terrible.” Will got himself back under control.

“You paused.” Hannibal grinned, wicked and intent.

“Overactive imagination.”

“I can tell.” Were the words of damnation that reached Will’s ear. He shivered, despite his best efforts not to.

“You can’t smell that.” Will was so done with that brand of bullshit.

“If I could not, then how do I know my offer to kill Ms. Lounds made you aroused?” But apparently, the bullshit wasn’t done with him just yet.

“Oh fuck.”

“I can do that too,” Hannibal told him, “If you ask.”

“If I ask you for what?”

“Anything within reason.”

“What if I wanted to fuck you?

“I have no issue with that.“ Hannibal said easily.

“What does lust smell like?”

“Spicy. How does it make you feel to acknowledge your yearning?”

“How’s does it make you feel?” Will shot back.

“Being wanted and desired by the only person of merit in my life is more fulfilling than I anticipated.”

“So if I asked you to blow me, would you?”

“Are you asking?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Would you like me to pull over, or can it wait until we get back to my bed? Either is fine by me.”

“Seriously? It’s you, of course, you’re being serious.” Will stared Hannibal down, searching his profile for any clue to where this was going. “Why are you offering me this? It’s a loss of control if I dictate the narrative. You don’t make mistakes like that.”

“It would only be a folly if I saw you as a lesser being.”

“We’re not equals. I’m not a killer.”

“All in due time.”

The drive back to Hannibal’s house was interesting. Hannibal was starting to look quite pleased with life again while Will stressed out about what else Hannibal could smell on him, or if he was just screwing with him. Will was wrapped up in his own head about that he almost forget his request. He was reminded about it as soon as they crossed the threshold, Will’s back hitting the wall.

And that’s where Will found out that Hannibal lacked a gag reflex.

“Oh fuck, oh god,” Will gasped out. Reminded of Hannibal’s quick reflexes, the profiler was amazed by how quickly the Ripper has been gone from standing to kneeling. His pants and everything else was yanked down, Will not given any time to react to that as he was swallowed down all in one go, from tip to hilt. Will didn’t know what to do about the Ripper nosing his pubic hair, who inhaled deeply there.

Of course, the cannibal serial killer would deep throat like a paid professional. Will dug his fingers into ridiculously soft hair breaking free of its product hold, large forceful hands keeping the empath‘s hips in place as Hannibal moved, setting a brutal pace to abuse the back of his throat. Will might have worried about him if it were anyone else.

Realizing that his eyes were screwed shut, Will made the mistake of opening them to look down. Hannibal’s hair was an absolute mess, Will’s fingers locking into like it was a lifeline were not helping.

Hannibal’s eyes were open, looking straight up at Will, who blushed hot and red under the intense observation. It didn’t last long because Will’s gift kicked in full force, and then, nothing else mattered.

The world just fell away until it was just Hannibal and himself...because that’s all Hannibal’s immense powerful focus was solely upon, so much so it tunnel visioned Will’s equally as powerful perception of the world, drowning the empath. Hannibal grew still as he watched the change over Will, who tightened his fingers in Hannibal’s hair, taking control as he reset the pace to what he preferred. Bruising hands left off of angular hips to be more useful elsewhere, exploring the rest of Will’s nether regions.

There was the tear of foil, Will managing not to flinch as slick fingers traced their tips over his balls and past the perineum to find his hole.

“Seriously? You carry lube with you.?” Will hissed, first finger pressing against and then through any resistance it felt. It left Will feeling like a live wire. In this moment, Hannibal’s want and need for him was a riptide current that had torn Will right off of his feet, pulling him way far out into the Ripper’s depths.

Something more than fingers was pressed past his entrance, something solid. Before Will could ask what it was, Hannibal pressed a button. Will pitched forward at the slightest vibration, his hands leaving Hannibal’s hair to pressed bruises into his shoulders.

“And apparently, sex toys.” Will said, “I’m not going to last long if you keep that up.”

Hannibal played his body like an instrument, bringing him almost to completion with his mouth alone, fiddling on Will’s nerves with the vibrator to only toy with him, leaving Will on edge for an unknown period of time. All he knew for the time being was the push and pull of pulses, Hannibal’s mouth, and the depths of fathomless maroon shark eyes. See too little, see too much. Will was drowning, and he couldn’t bring himself to care as he clutched at locks of soft hair.

With his usual sense of impeccable timing, Hannibal swallowed hard around Will’s cock. At the same time, the vibrator’s highest setting was kicked into gear. The orgasm felt like it was ripped out of him, Will crying out loudly from it as he poured himself down Hannibal’s throat.

It was glorious. It was painful. It was one of the most fulfilling moments in Will’s life thus far. Ultimately though, it was also very overwhelming, Will barely aware as his bones melted, and he was laid out on his back across the marble floor. He felt himself being licked clean, arching in complaint when the stimulation got too much to continue, and his oversensitive dick finally tucked away. Will noticed that the vibrator was left where it was, nestling inside him.

“That was an above and beyond blowjob. As always, you exceed expectation.” Will said, “And you’re carrying me again. I think it’s safe to say that you have a fetish, Doctor.”

“Only for you, mielasis.”

Chapter Text

Both their phones going off at once roused Will from a rare lovely bit of deep sleep. Reaching for his phone, Will’s waking brain noted that Hannibal was already dressed for the day at the perky hour of 4:27am, which was not a good sign for other people’s survival in Will’s opinion. He looked immaculate as ever while staring Will down, because that wasn’t unnerving or anything. Nothing odd about a middle aged man in a plaid three piece suit laying on top of the covers, watching you sleep. Perfectly normal behavior.

At the same time of being creepy, Hannibal gave off the same energy of a little kid waiting for everyone else to wake up on Christmas morning. Will decided that this did not bode well for the rest of his day.

“Is it safe to assume you’re the reason Jack is calling us at such an inhumane early hour, you absolute fucker?” Will groaned, “And why are you watching me sleep?”

“Language, Will. It’s much too early for such vulgarity.” Hannibal said as he put both their phones on silent without bothering to answer either one of them.

“Who’s fucking fault is that?” There wasn’t much more room for discussion or more vulgar language as Will was vividly reminded that he still had a vibrator, small as it was, situated within himself. Will’s back arched off the bed, cursing vividly loud from the sudden intense stimulation.

“Would you like me to remove that, or do you wish to keep going?” Hannibal asked, making Will look over at him.

“Dunno. You’re really overdressed, and I might get that suit of yours dirty.” Will becoming very aware of how naked he was. If it came down to brass tacks, and it certainly felt like they were hurtling towards that, he had every intention of ruining Hannibal’s ugly suit. The Ripper looked very pleased with himself about whatever the hell he had done.

“That’s not a no.” Hannibal smiled, unbothered. And it wasn’t. Will tried to remember the last time he’d had sex. College? New Orleans? Maybe? Longer than he cared to remember was the real answer. With his ‘gift’, sex wasn’t always the most enjoyable experience. He turned the idea of it lazily over in his mind. Everyone around them already thought they were screwing each other. Deniability was out the window at this point to the tune of “they doth protest too much”.

“Is anyone dead?” Will heard himself ask as he stared up at the ceiling. He had no idea what he was doing anymore. Did any of it really matter? If he was going to get fucked over in the end, and he just knew he was, Will figured he might as well get laid. Hannibal seemed to be amazing at anything he chose to grace his considerable abilities upon, and the man was an unmitigated hedonist.

“Not yet.” Was the surprising answer that Hannibal all but purred with that unique accent of his. It shouldn’t have sounded as sexy as it did.

“So you just want to make Jack wait.” Will pointed out as Hannibal efficiently stripped down faster than Will would have been able to undress him.

“I want to do a lot more than that.” Hannibal said, smiling into the kiss as he claimed Will’s mouth. “Will you allow me to?”

“Condoms?” Will sighed. In for a penny, in for a pound. He’d never had much preference when it came to gender. With his extreme empathy, Will’s own arousal was mostly fueled by the other person’s attraction to him.

“We can if you insist upon them, but we’re both clean.” And Hannibal was definitely attracted to him, exuding a heady amount of it. It blanketed Will, the weight of it oddly comforting. All Hannibal was thinking about and focused on was Will.

“What? Can you smell STDs or something?” Will grumbled, tried to anyway, but it was hard to keep that up with someone softly kissing your neck.

“I had your blood tested when you were getting your MRI.”

“Of course you did.” And he certainly didn’t mean for that to come out too fondly or with so much acceptance. Will rolling into the feeling of it, allowing himself to look, really Look, at Hannibal, at the monster who was laving kisses on his skin. It was in that moment, Will realized something.

Hannibal...Hannibal could possible be the happiest person Will had come across. This was a sated predator. No desperation or anxiety that had eaten Hobbs alive in the end existed in Hannibal. He was pond of still moonlit winter water. There was no fear of being caught, or guilt over grisly deeds done to others with extreme prejudice. He was legit happy to be here in bed with Will, thrilled even. Hannibal had done something on this night he was particularly proud about, and was ever so pleased with life. Will had never been with someone who was truly excited to be with him. It’s was almost daunting.

“You need to calm down. I’ll only going to disappoint you.” Which was definitely not pillow talk.

“What do you see?” Hannibal only smiled, pressing that joy into Will’s skin. The Ripper was surprisingly delicate with his affections.

“Faith.”’ Was the best Will could do as Hannibal tasted different parts of his body at leisure: his neck, collarbones, navel, and the V of his hips. Will’s answer wasn’t perfect, but it also wasn’t too far off. Hannibal had such certainty in his abilities, of what he was, of what he did. There was no residual remorse of ‘oh god, what have I done’. Zip, zero. Hannibal believed in what he did, and he did it well. That was the long and short of it. When Will looked into Hannibal, he mostly definitely saw the monster, but it was always in languid repose, sated, no nervousness or frenzy to it.

“Not in a higher power surely.” Hannibal paused in his devotions to study Will.

“Oh, you believe in God.” Will told him without hesitation.

“Do I?” Oh, and the monster was pleased, pleased and curious and entertained.

“You just don’t give a red hot damn about him, or Heaven’s opinion of you.”

“I find God interesting. Nothing I will ever do in this life will even compare to God’s cruelty.”

“You’re in a competition you can never win with God.” Will said in momentary wonder at the insight, not bothering to make it a question.

“If one does what god does enough times one will become as god.” Hannibal said, reminding Will that, oh yeah, the good doctor was as crazy as a soup sandwich.

Having nothing to add to that, Will just sighed, sitting up to reach for Hannibal, who grew still under his touch. Cupping that angular face to rub his thumbs across razor cheekbones, Will looked into Hannibal’s blood stained eyes, and allowed his pendulum to swing.

Swish, swish, swish.

In the staging area of his mind, Will stood on the edges of Hannibal’s pond, its surface like a mirror. It’s waters were black, but shafts of moonlight revealed that the bottom of it was white. The water filled pit was littered full of bones and gleaming skulls. It was a dangerous game to wade out into that moonlit winter pond while playing riddles in the dark with the monster in bed with him.

If Will wasn’t careful, one misstep could send him into deeper waters than he was prepared for. If he wasn’t clever, misspoken answers would earn him a place at Hannibal’s table on the other side of it. Sink, freeze, get eaten, or swim seemed to be his only choices.

One thing about Will though. He was one hell of a swimmer. Mentally, he took a running leap to cannonball the perfect surface of that pond.

“I’m asking.” It was amazing how heavy two words could be, what meaning they could carry.

Hannibal kept Will on his back until he was able to stand tall in other areas. Will didn’t know what to think when Hannibal straddled him, but he got with the program as Hannibal slowly lowered himself down inch by inch onto his cock until he bottommed out with a gentle sigh.

Will braced his heels against the bed as he got a good grip on Hannibal’s hips, fucking up into him as he pressed down with his hands. The sound Hannibal made in response was near sublime. Will told himself that he should have known that Hannibal would be a power bottom, or at very least, he was for him.

Will rolled them so Hannibal was finally underneath him, and damn, didn’t that feel good. Long legs were slotted over the profiler’s shoulders, Will taking great pleasure in pinning Hannibal’s hands against the bed. He thrusted hard and fast like this, driving himself into Hannibal’s welcoming body, just like how the sadist wanted. The other side of empathy was while Will was being filled with his partner’s want for his, their needs were also noted, little preferences that sometimes take years to figure out.

Which was why without warning, Will broke eye contact to turn his head, sinking his teeth into the meat of Hannibal’s thigh. He clamped down to bruise and bleed the flesh, allowing the taste of iron coat his mouth and stain his teeth. Letting go, his mouth still stained red, he leaned in to kiss the Ripper, messy and wet. Hannibal’s came untouched, hard enough to stripe his belly up to his chest. Will felt ridiculous about feeling so proud about that. Will confirmed Hannibal oral fixation by running his fingers through the mess, licking the semen off of his fingers, feeling no shame about it because Hannibal felt no shame about it. If anything, the Ripper was enthralled.

“Do you want me to stop?” Will already knew the answer, but it was polite, and Hannibal valued that a lot.

“Absolutely not.” Hannibal said, breaking Will’s hold on his wrists easily to lean up on his elbows. Looping an arm around Will’s neck, Hannibal pulled Will in to kiss him hard, ending it with teeth. “Keep going.” He ordered as he licked their combined blood off of Will’s lips.

Will’s hips jerked into abrupt motion by that damnable vibrator, Hannibal’s decision in the matter final as he worked the settings up and down in time to Will’s thrusts. He couldn’t last long under that kind of stimulation. Will came with a shout, spilling himself deep inside Hannibal. He fell forward, ridiculously strong arms encouraging this as Will laid himself out across Hannibal, losing the ability to tell where they began and ended for a moment.

“Holy shit, I just fucked the Chesapeake Ripper.” Was the first dazed thought knocking around in the confines of Will’s skull now that he wasn’t keyed into Hannibal. Nice as it was, they couldn’t stay like this for long. They both knew it.

“Okay, let’s go see what kind of mess you’ve made before Jack comes round to get another eyeful.

Chapter Text

Surprisingly enough, there was no body or even a staging area for one. Always one for raising the bar, Hannibal had somehow managed to make a dead woman come back to life solely to harass Jack at home in the middle of the night. Will hated to admit to himself that he was impressed.

“Maybe not so dead.” Will thought, toying with the idea.

“I’ve hooked into every carrier base and telephone provider in the US.” Beverly admitted defeat. “Nothing.”

“Look again.” Jack was PISSED. Will refrained from looking over at Hannibal. He didn’t need to, feeling the unmitigated glee coming off the Ripper.

“I did my agains. And agains. And agains.” Beverly set her jaw, clearly getting frustrated with their boss. They were the best in the business. Jack refusing to listen to any of them was beginning to wear at the team’s cohesion.

“Jack, why are we here? This is a phone call, not a body.” Will said, gesturing between Hannibal and himself.

“I need my best people on this.” Jack shot back.

“I’ve got nothing to work with here. I don’t do audio narrated by another person. I need up close and personal visual.” Will reminded for what felt like the hundredth time.

“You can tell me something.” Jack pressed.

“Like what, Jack? From her vernacular, she sounded scared and desperate, and about to die horribly. Did you really need to wake all of us up to determine that?” Will said, “Perhaps Doctor Lecter would like to weigh in on this. Whatcha think?”

“I believe Will’s assessment is accurate.” Hannibal said, clearly having the time of his life, at least to Will anyway.

“Which part?” Jack was not happy about being put into his place.

“All of it.” Price yawned, ignoring Jack’s glare.

“Wake your wife?” Zeller asked Jack.

“I was alone.” Jack told the room, the occupants of which bit back their groans, and were mostly successful about it.

“Whoever made that call could have made it from that little black box outside of your house.” Price pointed out, “Or a junction in your neighborhood. Either way, there would be no trace signal to track.”

Will shot a “where do you find the time to do all this BS?” look at Hannibal. In return, he got a elegant half shrug in answer.

“You sure it was Miriam Lass?” Beverly asked.

“It was Miriam.” Jack said in all certainty.

“You haven’t heard her voice in two years, Jack.” Zeller said way too casually for the mood Jack was in. Will leaned back to enjoy the show. It wasn’t often he missed out on being the main attraction for Jack’s ire. Zeller was busily painting a target on himself.

“You gonna continue to question me on this, Z?” Jack rounded on the tech, “If so, maybe I should ask you to leave the room while it’s still safe for you to be here.”

“Real professional, Jack.” Will said flatly.

“The Chesapeake Ripper recorded Miriam Lass two years ago as he was killing her.” Jack ignored him, “Last night, he played that recording for me.”

“Then, we know the Chesapeake Ripper is not Doctor Gideon, because we know the call wasn’t made from the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.” Hannibal said. Will just knew that he had been waiting all this time to point that out.

“Don’t give your phone number out to serial killers then.” Was what Will wanted to say.

“That we would have been able to track.” Beverly mused.

“Are you certain it was a recording?” Will was really beginning to warm up to the idea the Lass wasn’t dead. If so, then he would have a dead little girl, a teenager who should be dead, and a not so dead woman in his feeble arsenal. “Jack, you said yourself there’s no body.”

“Miriam Lass is dead!” Jack bellowed before lowering the volume. “The Chesapeake Ripper is making it clear someone is plagiarizing his work!”

“It’s 2:46 in the morning, Jack. You’re in a deep sleep m, you’re roused,” Zeller said, making Will and Hannibal exchange looks. Now was not the time to try and argue with Jack. “You’re disoriented. You might not even know you’re still asleep.”

“Ouch. Digging yourself in deep there, buddy.” Will thought as he winced. Zeller realized his folly after a prolonged moment of silence.

“I know when I’m awake.” Jack said intensely enough to make the room run quiet.

“Must be nice.” Thought Will, Hannibal the smuggest of smug murder duckling beside him.

And then after that, the day steadily got worse for Will, and better for Hannibal. Mostly due to Jack and Alana coming up with the most terrible idea ever together.

Jack said “We have a direct way of communication with the Chesapeake Ripper.” so intensely, it shocked Will into laughter.

“Okay, I’ll bite. A direct way?” Will asked after he had calmed down.

“Can you imagine?” Hannibal was going to make him laugh again, and get him committed.

“All too much, Doctor Lecter.” The profiler grinned up at the Chesapeake Ripper.

“I think we should allow Jack and Alana to continue. I have to admit that I am intrigued.” Hannibal said with a slight smile, the expression speaking volumes to Will.

“Hear that? He’s intrigued,” Will cackled, couldn’t help it. His life was so surreal at this point. “Okay. What about it?”

“We’d like to see if we can push him.” Jack explained. Will wasn’t sure if they could continue this conversation with them both in the room. Hannibal was threatening to light up from within from high level golden retriever puppy dog energy again, and Will would probably be placed in Doctor Chilton’s tender care if he kept laughing like a loon through the entirely of this conversation.

“Push him toward what?” A nice dinner reservation didn’t seem likely.

“To what end?” Hannibal added.

“We might be able to influence him to become visible.” Alana said, “Will, are you alright? This isn’t a laughing matter.”

“No. No, it’s not. Yeah, I’m fine.” Will wheezed. Oh, fucking Christ, Hannibal was going to be intolerable for the rest of the evening, the fucking narcissist. “Influence him? How? Do tell. What’s this idea of yours?”

“I think we can if we enrage him.” Jack

“To what purpose, Jack? I don’t see what you’re asking.” Will decided to play dumb to see where that got him. He should have known that when you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes.

“Do you think there’s a way to poke the Chesapeake Ripper and focus his attention?” Jack already had a plan in mind. Will wished he would just get to the meat of this conversation already instead of wasting his time.

“Well, he’s already focused on Gideon as his adversary. Don’t fool around.” Will warned, ignoring Hannibal’s soft snort of contempt. He was getting a bad feeling that he wasn’t going to like this idea, his humor leaving him in a rush. Will was getting the sense that Jack was about something to say something profoundly stupid.

“Gideon is just a tabloid rumor right now. We think we need to make him the truth.” And there it was. One of Jack’s worst ideas to date.

“You might. You will push the Ripper to kill again just to prove he isn’t in a hospital for the criminally insane.” Will carefully did not look over at Hannibal.

“I have to push, Will.” This was a golden example of why Will hadn’t wanted to work for Jack.

“Like hell you do.” Will glared, who had an epiphany. Something he really hated his epiphanies. “Are you thinking about getting into bed with Freddie Lounds?”

“You yourself know it’s the best way to bait the real Chesapeake Ripper.” Jack pressed, trying to get Will on board with this insane idea.

“I know it, sure. Agree with it, fuck no, Jack.” Will snapped, glancing up and over at Hannibal. The real Chesapeake Ripper had ceased to look amused as well. Cheese and crackers, this was bad.

“Good thing then that isn’t not your decision to make.” Jack smiled unpleasantly before turning to Hannibal. “What do you think, Doctor Lecter?”

“I am genuinely curious to find out what you have in mind.” The Chesapeake Ripper said, coming off as thoughtful, but Will could see the subtle tightness in his face. The Ripper was upset. That didn’t bode well for anyone.

“See? The doctor’s on board,” Jack said with a smirk, taking his leave to make a huge mistake by contacting Freddie Lounds to set up a meeting. Alana remained though, looking very carefully neutral.

“I feel the need to apologize. I was unfair to the both of you.” Alana said, pausing before continuing, “And you were right.”

“Often am.” Will said softly back, “Unfortunately so.”

“I realized you don’t need my blessing or permission, but I’m glad you’ve found each other.” Alana said, “if possible, I’d like to remain friends with you both.”

“I believe that is entirely possible though I cannot speak for Will.” Hannibal said easily, clearly having other fish to fry on his mind.

In this moment, it felt bittersweet, in a way that Will couldn’t explain to himself. Alana’s approval felt like a further departure from the light of day, the profiler shifting back into a darker embrace. The problem was that it was not entirely unwelcome.

“We’re good.” Will said instead of giving in to the urge to mourn, or continuing to think to deeply as the fates shifted.

“Thank you, Will.” Alana’s calm smile left Will feeling empty instead of warmed. Thankfully, they didn’t have to wait long to find out the extent of Jack’s folly.

“Morning, Agent Crawford. Thank you for inviting me, as well as making certain things go away.” Lounds was all smiles and her version of charm. Will felt nauseous from it.

“I want our conversation to proceed without any hindrances, Ms. Lounds.” Jack said smoothly back as he made introductions. “This is Doctor Bloom, one of our psychological consults. Doctor Lecter is our other, and I believe you already know Will Graham.”

“He’s a little hard to forget.” Lounds said as she offered her had to shake. Will ignored it, giving her a look in return that clearly said ‘eat shit’. “Mr. Graham, good to see you.”

“Can’t say the same.” Will said, earning a look from Jack.

“Ms. Lounds, you have all the qualities of a good reporter. You have intelligence, guts, a good eye. So how is it you wind up where you ended up?” Jack segwayed.

“Where I wound up being criminal justice journalism.” Lounds said.

“‘Criminal justice journalism’ being a euphemism for tabloid reporter.” Will corrected, getting a pointed look from Lounds and Jack, just different versions of it.

“You ran an unconfirmed story about the Chesapeake Ripper.” Jack voiced the worst idea ever. “What I want is for you to confirm it.”

That got Lounds’s attention, obviously not expecting that. Her defenses slightly lowered as her interest took the forefront. From the twitch in Hannibal’s right hand, it had his as well.

“An exclusive story would be a coup.” Lounds admitted after a moment of consideration.

“Mmm, yes, it would.” Jack warmed up, “And you would get the satisfaction of seeing the Los Angeles Times, the sanctified Washington Post...”

Will felt physically ill taking a part, unwilling or not, in furthering Freddie Lounds’s career.

“And even the holy New York Times run copyrighted material under your byline with a picture credit.”

“What’s against you, and by association, us, is your brand of journalism is obnoxious, and therefore, disliked.” Will added at the tail end of that, Lounds looking far too pleased with herself.

“Yes, that is an obstacle.” Lounds said smoothly, “Tried getting an interview with Doctor Gideon. I was denied. Evidently some trouble with my euphemism.”

“I’m friendly with the new chief of staff. I can get you an interview.” Alana said.

“Not to snap bubblegum and crack wise, but what’s my angle?” Lounds was reckless, but she did have a good head on her shoulders. “Is he the Chesapeake Ripper, or do you just want me tell everyone that he is?”

“He could be,” Alana said, making Hannibal twitch. “And certain personalities are attracted to certain professions.”

“Do you know what professions psychopaths disproportionately gravitate to?” Jack asked.

“CEOs, lawyers, the clergy,” Lounds answered easily.

“Number 5 on the list is surgeons.” Jack said, Will wondering if he could actually hear what he was saying sometimes.

“I know the list.” Lounds smiled.

“Well, then you now what number 6 is.” Will pokes.

“Journalists.” Lounds poked back. “You know what number 7 is Mr. Graham?”

“Law enforcement.”

“Chefs are number 9.” Hannibal causally announced to the room. Will waited and watched for a reaction. He was 2 for 2. No, that wasn’t right. Hannibal consulted for the FBI now, so technically he was in law enforcement now. So he was 3 for 3: surgeon, law enforcement, and chef. Of course, no one noticed.

“Here we are, a bunch of psychopaths helping each other out.”

Chapter Text

“Where is my tablet?”

“Don’t read it.” Was all Will said, not bothering to look up from the homework he was attempting to grade in peace.

“What have you done with it?”

“Moi?” Will stopped what he was doing long enough to dramatically place a hand on his chest like some offended Victorian maiden.

"Ou est-ce que tu la cachée?" Hannibal, of course, spoke flawless French.

“I promise you, you’re not going to find it.” Will said blandly back. He could speak French as well, but it was the ragtag kind they spoke in New Orleans where it was its own breed of language. Hannibal would either be delighted by it or appalled, maybe even a combination of both. “But you’re gonna feel real silly when I find it for you.”

Hannibal was quiet long enough that the silence jarred Will out of teaching mode, and away from marking papers. He looked up to find Hannibal staring him down, thankfully in a non-murderous way. If anything, the word that came to mind was besotted rather than homicidal. Will didn’t know whether to be worried or pleasantly surprised.

“What?” He settled on.

“The moment I dare to attempt getting used to you, you go and elevate yourself again in my eyes.” Hannibal said, “It’s breathtaking.”

“I can hide more of your things if you like it so much. Kiss those paisley pocket squares of yours goodbye.” Will snorted, getting back into the grind before he got distracted. Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, Will wondered what was so damn hard about hitting the spell-check button.

“You’re just putting off the inevitable.” Hannibal said from behind now, his surgeon hands digging into tense neck and shoulder muscles. The noises Will made in response to the massage attack were near inhuman. Grading be damned, giving himself over to the attention. If Hannibal kept this up, his entire class would end up getting a partially undeserved passing grade, spellchecked or not.

“Yes, but I also know that you’re going to be unbearable after you read what Lounds’s wrote about Gideon. You already know the punchline to this joke of a case.” Will groaned.

“I am aware, but I still want to read it.” Hannibal pressed and pressed until Will was putty in his hands.

“And you’ve already looked everywhere you’d think I would hide it.” Will finished for him, making up his mind. “You can either have the tablet, or me here. If I give you back the tablet, I’m going home.”

A little part of Will was flattered to witness the inward struggle that Hannibal was experiencing as he kneaded Will’s flesh, the cause for more strange little noises. The Ripper’s curiosity won out over his lustful obsession in the end though, much to the disappointment of them both.

“Regrettably, the tablet, please.” Hannibal said finally after a long moment of thought and more shoulder rubs, the quality of which almost made Will believe in a higher power.

“Narcissistic.” Will said, test rolling his neck and shifting his shoulders. Feeling euphoric, it took him a moment to stand up, but Will eventually returned Hannibal’s tablet to him, which was simply sitting in the drawer of the desk it usually resided atop upon. If Hannibal has bothered to open it, it would have been found immediately,

“Why there?” Hannibal was definitely feeling silly, but doing his utmost best to not show it. The vibe coming off of him was the same that emanated from cats who had just fallen off of something to perform a round of ‘didn’t happen’ grooming.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Will grinned. He was just the dog to give that cat a ‘yes, you did’ nip to its tail. “You went for the tablet. It wasn’t where you put it, where you always put it. You’re very ‘a place for everything, and everything in its place’ kind of person. You know I don’t touch your things unless provoked. I’m provoked so when you noticed the tablet was gone, you looked in all the places you thought I would hide it while wearing your mind set. I’m willing to bet that every new sequential guess became more and more elaborate than the last. How much time did you waste looking for it?”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Hannibal pointed out instead of answering, which meant he had been at it for a while. Will knew Hannibal could have easily read Lounds’s article on his smartphone. He didn’t need the tablet. Hannibal wanted the tablet because he was vexed he couldn’t find the damn thing. It was plain as day to Will.

“Because I knew that you would go through all that trouble instead of just opening the drawer because that would have been the easiest, most obvious answer that any ordinary person would have done.” Will said, making direct unflattering eye contact. He appeared to be looking for something in Hannibal’s face. Whatever it was, Hannibal knew when Will found it, a slow smirk spreading itself across rosy lips.

“I see you feeling silly, can’t hide it from me. It’s part of your design.” Was not what Hannibal has been expecting to here.

“You’re enchanting. I will do such great things in your name.” Hannibal breathed the words out in a breathless manner, like Will had purposely stolen the air from his lungs. What unsettled and thrilled Will simultaneously was that he could tell that Hannibal meant every word of it.

“Uh-huh.” Will said, ordered himself to retreat so he could mentally regroup in the safety of the woods, his house, and his park’s compnay. “And on that note, I’ll take my leave of you. You’re really not going to like it. Please don’t kill anyone.”

“I promise nothing.” Hannibal said, kissing Will sweetly goodbye. On the drive home, the profiler just knew that Hannibal was doing that thing with his right hand. On the plus side, Lounds might end up as murder art so there was that to look forward to.

Fortunately and unfortunately in one tabloid reporter’s case, no one died, but Jack got another phone call from Miriam...from inside his house. Will took it as a win, and found he wasn’t all too bothered by it, especially since Hannibal had done it during the day this time. Jack had a whole lot of house for just two people.

“In my house. In my bedroom.” Jack was less than thrilled. “Where my wife sleeps.”

Will found he wasn’t paying that much attention. There was still no body, and barely an actual crime scene so he made no attempt to appear useful. He was too busy being judgmental of the decor. It had an expensive tropical resort vibe to it. He was not alone in this. Hannibal didn’t seem to be a fan of it either. It also didn’t help that he kept shooting Will a secret little smile anytime both their backs were turned to the team.

“I dusted the phone. I got a lot of usable prints. Nice details too.” Price said, “I got three distinct beauties right here. Yours, your wife’s, and presumably, the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“I can’t believe the Chesapeake Ripper would start leaving prints at his crime scenes now.” Zeller said with a note of distain in his voice.

“That would be rather odd.” Hannibal nodded in agreement and approval.

“You never know. He might have gotten bored.” Will said, having his own line of communication with the Ripper.

“I don’t see that happening.” Hannibal said, simply delighted that Will was doing so at an active crime scene. “But you never know. Perhaps someday, just to keep things interesting. Variety is the spice of life.

“The Ripper put his head on your wife’s pillow.” Beverly said.

“Now somebody’s sleeping in my bed.” Jack said.

“There he is. Or there she is. Was Miriam Lass a blonde?” Beverly asked, holding the hair aloft for all to see. As improbable as it seemed, Will was getting that familiar feeling that his earlier idea about her had merit. Will was certain now that Miriam Lass wasn’t dead.

“Yes.” Jack answered tightly.

“I pulled her fingerprint from the ViCAP database, Jack, and I got a match.” Price said, mentally preparing for the rise in volume. They all were.

“She’s dead. She wasn’t here.” Jack didn’t fail to disappoint as he shouted at the team.

“Evidence says she was, and not just in spirit.” Will said, “At the very least, a part of her was anyway.”

“Jack, did Miriam Lass know where you live?” Hannibal asked before Jack had a chance for Will to expand on that.

“If she wanted to know, she was smart enough to find out.” Jack said.

“Then she could have told the Chesapeake Ripper before he killed her.” Hannibal really knew how to twist a knife.

“Oh, that’s good. Solid move. Keep Jack second guessing himself.” Will thought to himself.

“Did you know know you were sending her after him? Really, Jack? A trainee. Not even a damn agent. Did you seriously send a green-behind-the-ears trainee after the Chesapeake Ripper?“ Was what he said to Jack. That line of questioning landed on the agent hard, hitting all the marks.

It was only further proof to why Will hadn’t wanted to work for the man. Jack was getting reckless with other people while trying to hunt down the Chesapeake Ripper. Will didn’t like his odds when the time came for Hannibal’s plan to be implemented, if it hadn’t been already. Jack would feed anyone to the monster just to catch a peek of it.

“I sent her after information.” Was all Jack said in his defense.

“That’s some mighty fine backpedaling. Whoever made that call thinks you were close to Miriam Lass, and that you would feel responsible for her death.“ Will hinted to see if he could lead this horse to water. The fucker couldn’t even be bothered to look at the water, much less take a sip.

And that was what they called a clue in their line of work. If Jack wasn’t so busy feeling sorry for himself, he might have realIzed the only way the Chesapeake Ripper could know that little gem of information was if he were close to the case and personally knew Jack.

As always though, suspicion glided right over Hannibal like water off of a duck’s ass. No epiphanies were going to happen here on this day apparently.

“What have you got for me?” Jack asked.

“Well, once again, with no body and barely a crime scene to gloss over, I’ve got sweet fuck-all for you.” Will said to receive a very sour look from the agent which he ignored. “I don’t know how else to explain this to you. What I do isn’t magic. I need evidence, physically evidence, not phone calls. Everything we’ve learned about the Ripper today confirms what we already know about him.”

And with that, Will decided he was done for today. He hated having his time wasted.

“Where are you going?” The question landed on Will’s rapidly retreating backside.

“Back to class. I have midterms to grade, and anxious students to appease. Don’t call me unless you have a body, or at the very least, pieces of a body.” Will threw over his shoulder as he navigated Jack’s house. Hannibal followed close behind him. “You’re more than welcome to stay. We drove separately. I’m sure Jack as at least another hour in him before he gets fed up enough to send everyone back to the lab.”

“I’m satisfied. I’ve seen enough.” Hannibal shrugged, “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“I really am just grading. Anxious students are cause for an anxious teacher. I learned a long time ago not to put it off.” Will sighed. He’d rather have a headache from trying to decipher appalling handwriting than be physically and mentally drained by standing in an ocean of a stressed out student body day in and day out.

“Would you like some help?” Was not what Will had been expecting to hear. The question made Will come to an abrupt halt.

“Why? It’s not fun.”

“Nor do I expect it to be, but the goal is to mock Jack, not hinder you.” Hannibal said, “Plus, the quicker it’s done, the quicker your full attention will be back upon me.”

“Ah, there he is. The narcissistic sociopath I‘ve come on to know and love.” Will snorted, before realizing what he had actually said. “Slip of the tongue. Don’t read too much into that.”

“Oh, but I will.” Hannibal said, looking complexly amused about it. “You still need to answer my question.”

“I’m going back to Wolf Trap, to my house. The one that is full of dogs and dog hair.” Will told him. It was tempting. It wasn’t like Hannibal was under-qualified to do so.

“I know. We’ve met. I also remember how dogs and the properties of their hair work.” Hannibal said.

“It’s not like I could stop you if you chose to follow me home.” Will was all offered in way of answer. He wasn’t about to openly accept an offer like that from Hannibal.

“I’ll see you there then.” Hannibal said as he pressed a soft kiss to Will’s lips. A overly loud and piercing wolf whistle kept it from getting too serious.

“Get it, Graham!” Katz whooped from Jack’s front door, reminding Will where they were. “You’ve got balls in the size of coconuts to be making out on Jack’s lawn after leaving like that.”

“Which is probably what I should continue to do. Leave.” Will fumbled as his cheeks grew red.

“Sudie, mieloji. See you at home.” Hannibal called after him, getting more noises from Katz as Will’s face took on a solid, burning color.

For once, Will was grateful for the long drive home. There was a new step being added in to their already strange dance. Will didn’t know what to think about it. He did know one thing for certain though, reminding himself of it all the way back to Wolf Trap.

“Hannibal’s an asshole, and if I ever lose sight of that, I have only myself to blame if he pulls off what he’s planning.”

Chapter Text

“To the Chesapeake Ripper.” Were the words that almost made Will spit out his wine onto Chilton. Not that he would have cared if he actually had.

“Are you all right, Will?” Alana asked, sounding concerned.

“Fine. Fine. Drinking problem.” Will hoarsely coughed out.

“You ruined my toast.” Chilton somehow managed to sound petulant and petty all in one go.

“You can make more.” Hannibal said as he topped off all of their wine before leaving for the kitchen, “I won’t stop you. All I ask is that you wait until I come back.”

Which was exactly the opposite of what Will needed. Coughing and laughing didn’t exactly go hand-in-hand.

“Will, are you sure you’re fine?” Alana ignored Chilton’s impatient face. “You seem to be doing that a lot lately.”

“Doing what a lot lately?” Chilton lost his ire to regard Will with renewed interest, already labeling him as a specimen in his mind. Will gave serious thought about intentionally spitting his wine in the man’s face.

“Laughing at inappropriate moments.” Alana had her patented ‘worried about Will’ face on again.

“It’s just good old fashioned stress. Jack has had Will’s mind wound too tightly around his cases. I’m actually planning to have a word about that with him.” Hannibal interceded as he entered the room with their dinners in hand. “Why don’t you finish your toast, Frederick?”

“Ah. Yes. To the Chesapeake Ripper.” Chilton said, keeping an eye on Will who just grinned over at their host. “Doctor Gideon is going to provide us with a singular opportunity to analyze a pure sociopath. So rare to find one in captivity.”

“About that, I see three possibilities.” Will could tell that Alana was about to rain on Chilton’s parade.

“Mm-hmm.” Chilton looked less than pleased about it.

“Gideon is the Chesapeake Ripper, or he just think he is, or he knows he isn’t.” Alana said, effectively ruining Chilton’s night.

“He is. He knows he is. So do I.”

“Did you discuss the Chesapeake Ripper’s crimes with Doctor Gideon?” Hannibal asked. Will noticed that Hannibal always took care to call Gideon by his title of Doctor.

“Like say, before he murdered the night nurse?” Will reminded, which put Chilton right back onto the hot seat. Will enjoyed watching his smug look be replaced with something far more furtive.

“Mm-hmm. When I began to suspect what he was. Fearing he might be exposed may have, uh...spurred him into action.” Chilton said, going on the defensive.

“Is it possible you inadvertently planted the suggestion into Gideon’s mind that he was the Ripper?” Alana said.

“You’re not suggesting coercive persuasion.”

“No, I said inadvertently.” Alana easily pointed out.

“Psychic driving is unethical.” Chilton tried for professional outrage next. Alana was not so easily detoured by something like that. They all knew it too.

“But reasonable in certain circumstances.” Came out of left field from Doctor Hannibal “what the fuck did he just say” Lecter.

“What circumstances?” Alana asked, clearly caught off-guard. Finally, fucking finally, something amiss was registered.

“Yeah, what circumstances? Could you elaborate on that?” Will added. Oh, he was going to love hearing about what flavor of bullshit Hannibal was serving up tonight.

“It may have been useful trying to remind Gideon he’s the Chesapeake Ripper.” Butter wouldn’t melt in that liar’s loveless mouth. “If he repressed those memories, but he seems to have come to that awareness all on his own.”

The devil works hard, but Hannibal works harder, Will mused as he leaned back in his chair, trying not to snicker into his wine.

“Doctor Bloom, if he has been unethically manipulated somehow, I need to know. I would love your insight.” Chilton took what little cover Hannibal had provided for him, and ran for the hills with it.

“Dr. Chilton, would you care to assist me with dessert?” Hannibal asked as he began to clear the empty plates.

“Pleasure.” Chilton said quickly, obviously grateful for the momentary escape.

“Did that strike you as odd?” Alana said quietly as she leaned in.

“You have no idea.” Will grinned like a cat on crack.

“Will, what’s going on?” Alana asked, reminding Will of her fierce intelligence. Hannibal may be gaslighting Alana, but he didn’t keep her around because she was stupid. “And don’t tell me you’re fine, or it’s nothing.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Said Will after a moment of consideration. They didn’t have much time, and Alana wasn’t ready to hear the truth yet.

“Try me.” Alana challenged to get a closed off look in return. Will decided that it would be too dangerous, pointless, and ultimately deadly to tell her anything of merit right now.

“I prefer you alive. Believe me, ignorance is bliss on this one.” Will sighed.

“That sounds foreboding.”

“Let just say Chilton isn’t very good at his job, or is as smart as he thinks he is.” Will diverted.

“So you and Hannibal are working together to expose him?”

“You could say that.” And she could.

“You two work well together.”

“You could say that too.” Will made a face. Alana could say a lot of things. Whether or not they were true was another matter entirely. “Just do me one favor?”

“What would that be?”

“Remember tonight. Remember every word spoken here tonight and by whom, but keep it to yourself. It just may save your life one day. Here they come. Masks back on.” Will said, falling into an old conversation that he knew she would recognize. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to take any more fish? I’ll have to get another cooler if you don’t.”

“Or you could just start throwing them back.” Alana hid her confusion behind her dazzling smile and wine glass.

“Perish the thought. I’ll take what she doesn’t want.” Hannibal said, the possessive twat nugget he was.

“Careful. That’s a whole lot of fish.” Alana said, “Will is an excellent fisherman. He would have to be to land you.”

“I would like to think I offer a bit more challenge than a trout.” Hannibal said, everyone ignoring Chilton doing his best to imitate a fish, eyes bulged with his mouth hanging open. Apparently, he was one of the few people that didn’t know that they were together,

“I dunno. Trout can be quite wily when they want to be, hun.” Will said as he caught one of Hannibal’s hand to press a truly filthy kiss to the back of it. The choking noise Chilton made was very gratifying.

Will spent the rest of the dinner trying to make Chilton as uncomfortable as possible, all while not giving out one single iota of information about how it had come about. Hannibal couldn’t have been more thrilled about it, the sadist greatly enjoying Chilton’s discomfort while basking in all of Will’s sudden affection who kept it a theme for the rest of the night.

The next day, Will found that Hannibal truly enjoyed the number three, the third and last call made thankfully doing the day.

“The last call was made to Jack’s cell from a disposable phone traced here...or within 100 feet of here.” Katz updated them both as Hannibal and Will joined the team at the latest location of this goose chase.

“What was Miriam Lass looking into?” Will asked, kicking himself for not asking sooner.

“Medical records.” Katz said, making all the bells and whistles go off in Will’s head. Bingo. That’s how she had found him. “If the Ripper was a surgeon, she thought he might have treated one of his victims.”

“Have they retraced her steps?” Will asked, already planning to give Hannibal so much shit about this. A trainee had found him. Not the Guru, Jack. Not even a regular agent. A humble, wet behind the ears trainee. He was never going to let Hannibal live this one down.

“The ones they could find. She made a jump somewhere they couldn’t explain.” Katz said, “You make those jumps.”

“I make those jumps due to evidence. The evidence has to be there for me to make them.” Will said dutifully, half sick of explaining his process to everyone. “Like a springboard into a pool of knowledge.”

“Every surgeon that came in contact with any of the Ripper’s victims has been thoroughly vetted, or currently under observation.” Beverly said.

“Including Doctor Gideon?” Will asked as they arrived, Jack waiting for them outside the observatory. He knew how to twist a knife too.

“Doctor Gideon wasn’t in my bedroom. The Chesapeake Ripper was.” Jack said.

“No shit, Jack, but you just had to push. The only reason I’m here is because there’s going to be a body.”

“What makes you so sure of that?” Jack asked.

There were a lot of snappy things Will could say to that, like how it was his freaking job to know shit like that, or that he had skill sets that people like Jack hounded him to use them. Instead, Will settled for “Because the Ripper always works in sounders of three. This is your third and I’m willing to bet, your final call. Of course, there’s going to be a body.” He talked slow and used small words. It didn’t go unnoticed, Beverly moving herself to the back as Jack squared up his body, obviously about to launch into a tirade.

“Why are we here at the observatory? Seems an odd spot.” Hannibal intervened before Jack popped his lid. As nice as it was, Will knew it wasn’t for his benefit. Hannibal was chomping at the bit to get them all inside to reveal what the Ripper had done.

“The last call left something the others didn’t,” Jack let go of his anger to focus it elsewhere. He was itching to get inside too, but for vastly different reasons. “...a phone number.”

Jack called the number, all three of them hearing shrill ringing coming from inside. Following Jack inside, it didn’t take them long at all to find the source of the ringing. Miriam Lass’s arm sat on top of a table, backlit by a light. Her arm had been removed just a little bit about the elbow, the separation incision cleanly cut. There was a note with the arm.

“What do you see?” Was written in blood because Hannibal was an ‘all about the extras’ diva.

“Oh, I get it.” Will said as he glanced around.

“Get what?” Jack snapped.

“It’s meant to be a joke.” Will said

“I’m not laughing.” Jack said, his words more of a growl than understandable language

“It wasn’t meant for you.” Hannibal said, which was the polite way to say that Jack was the joke here. The note was the punchline.

“What are you two seeing that I’m not?” Jack asked as he glared down at what was stolen from his trainee.

“That they’ll find that arm was taken freshly off Miriam Lass’s body.” Will said without hesitation.

“She’s dead.” Jack denied, tried to at least.

“She might be now, but I would have to agree with Will. I am certain Ms. Katz will find that there will no trace of cold damage.” Hannibal made a show of inspecting his own gruesome work. “This amputation was done quite recently, less than a day.”

“Which means...” Horror was beginning to dawn on Jack.

“The Ripper has had Miriam Lass, alive, this entire time.” Hannibal said with bright eyes.

“Is she? Is she still alive?” Hope was an ugly dance partner with dread.

“No way to call that. The Ripper could be keeping her around to cut off more parts.” Will said.

“Or he could have killed her, and hid her body so that you have no way of knowing for sure.” Hannibal added.

“I told you not to mess around. You’re being punished, Jack.” Will said, not feeling particularly charitable to Jack for disregarding his advice. “The Ripper didn’t randomly pick this location.”

“He’s telling you that he’s light years ahead of you. That you’ll never catch him. You’ll only manage glimpses of him from so very far away.” Hannibal said as he gestured around them.

“Really? I thought he was going more far more esoteric in the sense that he has a god complex, and all of us are insignificant in comparison to him, that his body of work is as vast as the stars in the sky.” Will poked fun while complimenting.

“That is quite possible as well. Thank you for that insight.” Hannibal practically had a twinkle in his eye.

Jack didn’t have much to say after that, the agent leaving in complete silence with his head bowed. He looked grey around his edges.

“I think you broke Jack.” Will said. Old and fresh grief were weighing the agent down.

“Good.” Hannibal wore the expression of a man about to put Jack back together so that he could ruin him all over again.

That observation sprouted in Will’s fertile mind, taking deep root as everything blossomed, revealing Hannibal’s intentions to Will. The profiler had been wondering where and when his part would be in all this. Hannibal worked in threes after all. Miriam was one first act of humiliating and compromising Jack.

Will was fairly certain he meant for the third and final act. He had to figure out who the second act person would be before the final. Hannibal wanted to ruin Jack’s career while he mentally decimated him. Miriam was a trainee he had basically sent to her death. Will had all his quirks that weren’t meant for fieldwork which he was sure would come to light at some point to show off how reckless and incompetent Jack was. The other person had to be someone they worked with, an underling in Jack’s charge which meant Katz, Price, or Zeller were the most likely choices for Hannibal’s second act while he was locked away.

This was about humiliating Jack. Hannibal would kill anyone at the drop of a hat, but it appeared thus far that wasn’t his go-to for people who had earned his respect by figuring out what he was all on their own. Will was 60/40 in her favor that Miriam was still alive and mostly well. Definitely missing an arm, but alive, and had a shot of remaining that way. Will was 80/20 in his favor that Hannibal wasn’t planning to kill him. After all, it would hurt Jack more to have living reminders of his failure.

This far in the game though, the techs might not be so lucky if one of them found out that Hannibal was the Ripper. Shit waffles, Will suddenly realized that he had three more people to protect.

Regrouping his thoughts in his head, Will opened his mind until he stood in a room entirely dedicated to Hannibal. One whole wall was a dry erase board that Will had been adding to since his discovery.

Hannibal was a sadist, but not just in the physical sense. He thrived on other people’s fear, the mental anguish it caused.
So what was Will afraid of? Easy. Becoming what he captured, and being committed to an insane asylum. Following that idea through, Will knew that Hannibal was going manipulate him or a situation so that Will ended up killing someone, just like he had tried to do before with Hobbs.

Failing that or in addition to it, Hannibal was definitely going to frame him, but there would be an out. Hannibal just wanted him off the playing field so the Ripper could implement his third act without hindrance. Once that was done, Hannibal would do something to get him out, or at least, Will hoped he would.

The big decision Will had to make here and now was to go along with Hannibal’s plans for him, or sidestep them. He wasn’t helpless. Will could simply leave. He knew how to disappear. The game would be completely ruined if he up and left now.

A sidestep would be a real upset though, and it would clue Hannibal into knowing that Will was well aware of his plans. If that were to happen, Hannibal would come up with something new that Will might not figure out in time, or he just might reset the entire board in his own unique way, which meant a lot of people died.

“There you are. Where did you go?” Asked Will’s very own personal devil, reminding the profiler that they weren’t alone and still standing in the middle of a crime scene. That now was not the time to dwell on his epiphany.

“Just taking it all in. The Ripper really outdid himself this time.” Will answered honestly so that not even a trace scent of a lie would give him away. “I don’t usually run across serial killers with a sense of humor is all. I think it would frowned upon if I admitted aloud to anyone else other than you that I find it...refreshing.”

Oh, and how Hannibal preened from that. He felt seen and appreciated for the first time in his life, and he was about fit to burst from it. If Hannibal could be any animal in this moment, Will knew he would be a peacock. He raised his chance of survival to 90/10 if he didn’t screw this up. Hannibal didn’t want him dead, not after getting a taste of what he had been searching for his entire life.

“If you don’t think your expertise is needed any longer here, I’d like to take you home.” Hannibal said softly in Will’s ear.

“Why?” Will already knew why, but played along anyway.

“Because I don’t think Jack would appreciate you bending me over that desk to have your way with me.”

Chapter Text

“One would think it was mandatory for the FBI to run a spellcheck before turning in their work.”

The observation made Will glance up from his grading with an incredulous look, Hannibal admiring how firelight looked caressing the empath’s face. He and Will were currently sitting on the floor in front of his parlor’s fireplace, papers and tests with written exams strewed all around them like gentle slopes of papery snow. They were drinking expensive champagne, and eating Hannibal’s version of what Will laughingly called finger food, which was a truly odd yet funny thing to say to a cannibal. The feast laid out before them consisted of Oysters Rockefeller, spice toasted almonds, a variety of grapes, olives stuffed with various cheeses, Brie cheese with a fig compote, and homemade crostinis.

“One would think. I told you it wouldn’t be fun.” Will said as he finished grading one exam with practiced ease to reach for another as easily as if it were breathing.

“I wasn’t expecting fun. I would have settled for intelligible though, or at the very least, legible.” Hannibal shook his own variation in hand, wishing it was the actual author of this travesty instead. “This one has very little concept of captor bonding, and has gone off a totally unrelated tangent for two whole pages. This other one has no concept about the fundamentals of punctuation. This one, this one I have no idea what they were going for, which is somewhat impressive, all thing considered.”

“Welcome to the wonderful world of teaching.” Will cackled softly into his flute’s bubbles. Hannibal wondered if Will knew just how much of himself he gave away in these rare bright moments between them. Will’s own brand of humor was just as twisted as Hannibal’s own. Same tree really, just a different branch of it. “Aren’t you used to deciphering chicken scratch, Doctor Lecter?”

“I’ll have you know that my penmanship is immaculate.” Hannibal said as he snagged a piece of paper to write ‘what do you think?’. He ignored Will using his title, tried to not feel too irked by it. “And I kept my attending residents to a very high standard.”

“I think it’s impressive that your handwriting is just as pretentious as you are. Do you always write in Copperplate?” Will deadpanned, giving him a very unimpressed look back. It got a real smile from Hannibal, one he allowed to show the other. Will was truly a delight to interact with.

“It’s better than what I’m being subjected to here. You’re far more patient than I previously thought.” Hannibal said, mostly holding back a sigh at the written-in answers. Some of the handwriting had more in common with ancient cuneiform than English. He set it aside for the time being, preparing some nibbles for Will and himself.

“Don’t put a shine on my halo just yet. I leave very cranky notes in the margins.” Will said, dutifully accepting a crostini with the perfect amount of Brie and fruit compote spread upon it. He ate it at first on automatic, but then gave pause when he registered the flavors hitting his tongue. It made Will take his time the next few bites in a most gratifying manner to Hannibal.

“Excellent. I’ve done the same.” Hannibal said, offering his already completed stack to Will for him to peruse through as he ate the continuous little plates prepared for him by his host. Hannibal was pleased to find out that Will could read and absorb the written word as quickly as he could. Between the two of them, they were making quick work of Will’s teaching duties.

“Verbal evisceration. You are having fun.” Will accused with a smirk, poking Hannibal in the side with his pen, or at least, tried to. The profiler found his hand caught and tasted, Hannibal pressing his lips to back of it, biting down playfully on the palm’s meat.

“If this is the best the FBI has to offer, I needn’t worry about much.” Hannibal said, following the hand to its source as the limb retreated. Its owner was blushing from the pursuit, and trying not to show it.

“Says one of the most famous serial killers who almost got caught by a trainee. Not even a full agent, a wet-behind-ears trainee.” Will countered easily enough in a bone dry tone. Hannibal chose to ignore it for something far better as he covered Will’s body with his own, attempting to plunder more affection. For the most part, he was waved off. “You’re worse than a cat!”

“Meaning that I am cunning, graceful, and mysterious?”

“I was going to go with clingy, attention seeking, and annoying.” Will snorted as he retreated for now. “We still have a whole lot more to get through so behave.”

“You wound me.” Hannibal said, placing a hand to his chest in mock emphasis.

“I clearly forgot overdramatic in my assessment.”

“I simply enjoy the zest of life.” Hannibal sniffed, primly taking a sip.

“And petty.”

“Now you’re just trying to be mean.”

“Trying?” Will arched a brow at him.

“This one thinks I’m part of the clergy,” Hannibal left off, making Will snort in amusement for various reasons. “A Catholic priest to be exact.”

“What’s their basis for that?” Will asked as he furrowed his brow in thought.

“They’re building it upon the tongue I placed in the Bible as a bookmark. They believed my sounders of three represent the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. They propose that I am picking my victims through their confessionals.” Hannibal summarized.

“Mmm...that’s actually not half bad. I’ve read worse. You’ve been all over the list.” Will reached for it, snagging the paper from Hannibal to look over with a jaded eye.

“What was I a CEO of?”

“Something medical, having to do with big pharma. You were a jet setting, international killer who would come to the states for business.”

“That lacks an appalling amount of imagination.”

“Indeed. You’d stay for the pleasure of killing your sounder, and then fly back to Europe to start the cycle all over again. They attributed that to why you’ve never been caught.” Will said with a twinkle in his eyes as he added, “He also thought you were Danish.”

That gave Hannibal reason to pause. “Why would he think that?”

“I have no idea. The paper was so badly written that I didn’t have it in me to find out. I failed him if you were wondering.” Will shrugged.

“I would hope so.” Hannibal said, “I’m a war correspondent in this one. I kill after I’ve been on a particularly rough assignment. My reasoning is rather trite, having to do with the horrors of war. It’s all rather dull, don’t you think?”

“I can’t tell anymore if they’re brown nosing, or actually think they’ll be right about you through sheer dumb luck.” Will sighed as he finished grading one to reach for another.

“In this one, I am a third year medical student that succumbed to the pressures of the field, and dropped out. I now work in retail at a place called Walmart, and my own shortcomings, of which there are many, are what motivates me to kill.” Hannibal said, “Walmart? That sounds abysmal.”

“You don’t know what a Walmart is?” Will bodily paused to assess his companion. Hannibal only deigned to stare back at Will in answer.

“Of course you don’t. Well, for never having been in one, you nailed it. They are terrible places,” Will looked very amused about something. Hannibal made a mental note to google Walmart. “But you can get 12 pairs of socks for under $10.”

“Not even high end retail then?”

“You can get 12 packs of instant ramen for around $4 there. What do you think?”

“That’s appalling.”

“So what you’re saying is that I should give them an A?” Will grinned cheekily. Some stray thought drained the empath of his good humor. “Have you killed elsewhere?”

“What do you think?” Hannibal challenged.

“I believe you have.”

“Then why ask me boring questions you already know the answers to?” Hannibal gently mocked, though he knew Will was attempting to create a base line by doing so. He was building up to something else. Hannibal was enthralled to find out what that something was.

“What would you consider an interesting question? A better question?”

“Don’t waste time asking me. Tell me. Tell me who I have been before this. Who was I in my youth?” Hannibal asked, throwing down the metaphorical gauntlet.

“You’ll have to be quiet for this next part.” Will told him as the empath closed his eyes. In that instant, Hannibal decided that he was going to render Will as the Oracle of Delphi. It would have to be oil on canvas.

“Il Mostro. Il Mostro di Firenze. Your design back then was the Monster of Florence.” Will intoned without hesitation, opening his eyes to pin Hannibal with an unidentifiable look.

“What gave me away?” Hannibal asked as he schooled his face and body not to emit any trace of the pure joy he was feeling.

“The Primavera painting by Botticelli. That and you have a very certain style.” Will spoke evenly as if still in a daze. “You also have a pension for a very certain story trope.”

“And what trope would that be?”

“Of gods elevating mortals to divinity. ‘Leda and the Swan’ is what made the jump for me. You enjoy turning people into killers.”

“Where did you go before, and where are you lingering now? Do you have a mind palace?”

“The method of Loci? Nah, not one much for palaces.” Will continued to impress him, not missing a beat. “I have rooms for my work, but mostly, I just stay in my stream. It’s all space, woods, and open sky up in here.” He said, tapping the side of his temple. “It took longer than usual because I haven’t been to the international section in a long while.”

“Impressive.”

“If I ask you a question, will you answer it honestly, no bullshit?”

“I promise nothing, but I’ll do my best.” Hannibal smiled at the eye roll shot his way.

“What happened to you? Who made you what you are?”

“In the argument of nature vs nurture, I have to admit that I was born this way. I made me. Certain life events have changed the direction of that metamorphosis from time to time, but my focused navigation has remained the constant factor.” Hannibal wondered where this was going, if Will would be satisfied with that answer. He hoped not.

What are you smiling about?” Will asked, looking suspicious.

“I find it interesting that you’re looking for a scapegoat for my actions. You like me so you are trying to discover the name of the devil who put me on this path.” Hannibal chuckled, “What are you planning to do if you find out? Hunt them down with extreme prejudice?”

“No, not at all.” Will said easily enough, looking amused about something. Hannibal felt the growing suspicion that he had missed something important in the last few seconds.

“Then what?” Hannibal finally asked. He was mentally reviewing their exchange to find nothing noteworthy, and yet, this felt like a trap of some sort.

“I was actually more curious about how Mischa fits into all this.” Will said, emotionally kicking the bucket out from under Hannibal’s feet. The noose of this conversation jerked tight around his neck, the one he hadn’t noticed Will slip over his head. It stole his breath, perfectly crafted rebuttals snuffed out of existence.

“It would appear that I have been talking in my sleep again.” Hannibal said after a long held moment. He was doing everything he could not to react in front of the most perceptive person he’d ever met. Hannibal realized he was experiencing the flip side of being so seen. Will witnessed all the good, but he also experienced the bad and the ugly sides of self.

“Among other things.” Will added, but not unkindly as he flayed open Hannibal’s person suit at its seams. “Your form of cannibalism isn’t about elevation or respect. It’s a public shaming. You eat people who disgust you. You kill people you’ve deemed unworthy of life.”

“And...” Hannibal prompted, taking this journey whether they were ready or not.

“You say that you made yourself. I don’t think that’s entirely true.” Will said, looking directly at him. Hannibal could feel those unflinching blue eyes peeling back layers of his armor, tattering his meticulous persona. “Do you feel like a bug being pinned and put on display yet?”

“Apt analogy.”

“We can stop if you want.” Will said as an infuriating little smile played over his lips. He had gotten what he wanted, whatever that was, from Hannibal. It was as intriguing as it was infuriating.

“It is an unexpected sensation, but one that is not unwelcome. I remain firmly in awe of your gifts.” Hannibal recovered, willfully pressing salt into that wound. He wanted to see how far this could go. “Who do you think Mischa was to me?”

“Someone important to you.”

“Don’t start to generalize now. You’re better than that.”

“She was your baby sister.”

“And?”

“She was also the first person you consumed,” Will was tense. He was watching him. “Though not willingly.”

“She was fed to me by the soldiers who killed my parents.” Hannibal admitted freely to see its effect on Will. The empath was clearly torn between keeping him in sight as a villain and not a victim.

“How does that make you feel?” Will asked.

“How does it make you feel?” Hannibal echoed back. He’d had decades to deal with this pain that never needed, this loss that would always be felt down to the marrow of his bones. It was fresh hell for Will though. That much was obvious as Hannibal remained open about his grief, the wound in his mind that would never fully heal. He watched as it affected Will, the empath dropping his eyes to the floor to study the wood grain instead of him,

“Complicated. I feel complicated.” Will finally admitted, but there was a hint of hesitation in his voice.

“You have something else to ask. Say it.”

“Was she avenged?”

“My dear Will, what have I told you about asking questions you already know the answer to.”

Chapter Text

Someone was staring at them. Will could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Not reacting to it, he resolutely kept face forward, the opera singer being a very compelling focal point in her gold dress and striking red splashed background. As much as he would like to rubberneck the room to find out who was staring holes into the back of his head, Will didn’t want to disturb Hannibal. He was quite involved with the performance, and Will didn’t want to distract him unnecessarily from it.

Opera, Will decided, was nice enough in small doses. He could practically feel a physical impact from it that reviled the emotional, the deep dive into the wealth of sensory emergence there. In Will’s humble opinion, it had nothing on nature’s song of water rippling over rock and a breeze whistling through fields that intertwined so effortlessly with the ambient silence of the world.

His daddy had once said that there were such things as human enchantments, magic that we as a people make for ourselves because we can, because that is what we do. Humans delight in it. Singing was one of those spells, crafting another, but the ultimate, at least according to Graham senior, was cooking. Will quietly reflected on this as he made himself relax, and focus on the beautiful woman singing with all her heart, soul, and talent for her enraptured audience.

There would be time to look for this pain in the ass later. Will wasn’t too worried about it. He was armed, and his date, of a sorts, was immensely dangerous.

Hannibal was the first one on his feet to give a standing ovation, the room following his lead. Will refrained from looking behind them. At this point, the interloper would just have to make themselves known to them. If his companion wasn’t one of the most prolific serial killers at large, Will might have dismissed the sensation of nerves brought upon him by general social anxiety. He was not looking forward to the after party.

Hannibal was planning on showing him off. Will was planning on coming off as politely dull and unenthusiastic as possible. Neither one got what they wanted, both plans ruined by the same person, though Will wasn’t too disappointed. He lit up with he recognized Franklin from across the room, the man beelining to Hannibal with a friend in tow. A quick glance at Hannibal confirmed that he had noticed the intrusion as well, and he was doing his utmost best to ignore it as Hannibal held court. Will wasn’t about to let him off so easily. He kept an eye on Franklin and his company as the stout man bobbed and weaved through the crowd of hopefuls and other social onlookers.

“It’s been too long since you properly cooked for us, Hannibal.” Said Mrs. Komeda. She was beginning to work her way into Will’s good favor. Usually, someone using imperial pronouns as if they were royalty would set his teeth on edge, but someone using it on Hannibal was simply delightful.

“Come over and I’ll cook for you.”

“I said properly, which means dinner and the show. Have you seen him cook? It’s an entire performance.” Mrs. Komeda expanded, not about to let it go. “He used to throw such exquisite dinner parties.” She finished in a longing lingering manner, all while staring Hannibal down who was definitely amused, that much Will could tell. Mrs. Komeda was intellectual and sassy, and Hannibal had a fondness for her. “You heard me. Used to.”

“And I will again,” Hannibal tried to beg off, “After inspiration strikes.”

Will downed his champagne, trading out for a new glass of it from a passing server. It wasn’t whisky, but it wasn’t garbage champagne either so he made do. After all, he had to stay sharp to catch a potential threat in the room.

That answer earned Hannibal a dirty unimpressed look from Mrs. Komeda so he was forced to respond further. “I cannot force a feast. A feast must present itself.”

It was fascinating to watch Hannibal interact with “normal” people, the edges of his person suit depicting the charming foreign doctor welded together. Its presence didn’t detour Will from snorting into his champagne.

“It’s a dinner party, not a unicorn.” Mrs. Komeda snarked, “Your dear Will seems to agree with me.”

“Your dear Will” was apparently his title here now. He hadn’t been particularly forthcoming about what he actually did for a living, and no one had pressed him for more information after he gave them the bland answer of teacher. That, and his less than designer clothing made Will practically invisible to them if it were not for Hannibal constantly orbiting and touching him. It was an unusual sensation to realize that he had been regulated to “arm candy”. Will took his role of being seen but not heard very seriously, despite Hannibal’s best efforts to include him in any ongoing conversations. It was nice being a small fish in a large pond for once. His current profession and Jack Crawford usually didn’t allow for such things.

“Oh, but the feast is life. You put the life in your belly and you live.” Hannibal said magnanimously, like he had just departed some ancient forgotten knowledge. His audience was really lapping it up.

“Yes, that is typically how food works.” Will said dryly, much to the delight of Mrs. Komeda.

“It’s a dinner. Not a unicorn.” Made Will chuckle. He was really beginning to like Mrs. Komeda.

“This young man seems to be trying to get your attention.” She said in polite dismay, the undesirable company upon them now. The joyful energy radiating from Franklin was almost palpable.

“Franklin, isn’t it? I thought I recognized you.” Will smiled, the expression widening as he noticed the pained look that flashed across Hannibal’s face. “Good to see you again under much better circumstances.”

“How do you all know each other?” Mrs. Komeda asked, her interest in these strange proceedings perking her interest which meant they were now the focus of the room. If Hannibal was king of this social scene, she was the queen.

“You must allow me some mystery to my life outside of the opera.” Hannibal tried to divert, but Franklin was not so easily detoured. Like a bull in a china shop, Will was pleased to note.

“Oh, I’m a patient of Dr. Lecter. I witnessed a patient being murdered in his office. Agent Graham was there as well.” Franklin admitted happily, Hannibal visibly dying a little inside to Will. “This is my friend Tobias.”

“Good to meet you both.” Was what Tobias said, but it was clearly only directed at Hannibal. Will managed to not roll his eyes to check the backside of his head, keeping a bland expression fixed on his face. His impoliteness was noted by Hannibal anyway so no real need to react.

“Agent Graham? I thought you said you were a teacher?” Mrs. Komeda head whipped around to study Will with renewed interest.

“Oh, he is. Will teaches at the FBI when he’s not working in the field. He is currently working on catching the Chesapeake Ripper.” Hannibal supplied, effectively blowing up Will’s bit of social protection while still being a smartass shit about it. Thank to Franklin and Hannibal, the profiler was suddenly one of the most interesting people in room right now.

“Most of what I do can’t and shouldn’t be spoken about in polite company.” Will said easily, faking a tired yet easy professional smile. Hannibal was about to find out that though Will didn’t care for much socializing, it didn’t mean that he was unaware of its nuances.

“How ever did you two meet then?” Mrs. Komeda asked.

“At a small intimate dinner party at my place.” Hannibal supplied.

“See? I told you they were an event!” Mrs. Komeda said emphatically, gesturing between them.

Oh. Oh dear. Even from the sidelines, Will could already tell that Tobias was going to be an issue. This one was going to be trouble if he wasn’t already. Tobias had definitely killed before, and if Will were a betting man, he was certain that Tobias was quite good at it, though his discretion was beginning to waver. Will could tell by the look on his face, the way he sized up Hannibal.

“What the fuck? Do they smell their own kind?” Will sighed to himself, glad he was armed. At one point in his life, Will would have said that he was perfectly safe in the here and now, at a fancy party drinking a fairly good champagne. Or at least, he would have if Hannibal were other people, the kind that weren’t sadist cannibalistic serial killers that seemed to attract others like bees to wild clover.

“Never mind that. It all comes with the job and I have training as well as a top notch psychiatrist. The real man of the hour is Franklin. It was his testimony that put Stammets away for good.” Will said as he patted Franklin hardily on his back like they were old chums. It took effect like Will knew it would. Franklin was dying to be included in anything greater than himself.

“You know, this might be just the inspiration you need.” Will turned back to Hannibal who to his credit was not unraveling, but the seams on his perfect person suit were beginning to loosen. “There’s your unicorn, Mrs. Komeda.”

“A feast that has presented itself.” Mrs. Komeda said which made Will equal parts amused and queasy when it came down to the thought of eating Franklin. “You get to live another day because of him so it only seems fair to fill his belly.

“Astute as ever, but he is still my patient.” Hannibal tried.

“So? Cook over at my place. He’ll be the guest you weren’t aware about being there.” Mrs. Komeda offered with a mean twinkle in her eyes. Oh, she was keen. Will wondered how much she had actually figured out already about Hannibal.

“I don’t discuss my personal life for many excellent professional reasons.” Hannibal was being trapped by a cage of his own creation and social constructs.

“That, and he likes an air of mystery about him.” Will wasn’t about to let him escape.

“Can you tell us something of interest?” Mrs. Komeda said radiantly as more people drew in close to hear every word.

“I could, but you’ll never be able to find my body afterward.” Will grinned. He was beginning to understand why Hannibal did this as their audience tittered into their champagne.

“I’d watch your back here as well. There’ll be more than a few people that will be insanely jealous of you for getting to eat all that exquisite cooking whenever you like.” Mrs. Komeda leaned in to whisper as if to conspire.

“Does that include you?” Will whispered back. The champagne must actually be getting to him because he was having a good time.

“Perish the thought. You are far too highly entertaining to dispatch.” She winked, “Plus, I like to watch Hannibal squirm.”

“I can make him do more than that.” Will winked back making her laugh.

“Are you two done plotting?” Hannibal sighed.

“Hardly. When would be best for you?” Mrs. Komeda straightened to direct a haughty compelling look that him, one that brooked no argument or excuse.

“I need to search for some key ingredients, but I would say, perhaps in two weeks.” Which was code for “I gotta go murder all bunch of people who have annoyed me at some point”. Thankfully for Franklin, he was already on the guest list, and not the dinner menu.

“Would it be all right if I brought cheese? Hannibal and I are cheese folk.” Franklin said, making Will’s night utterly complete as he watched something perish a little bit more inside Hannibal.

“I’ll hold you to that, buddy.” Will grinned, Franklin looking close to swooning. He didn’t know many people who could look any happier than Franklin in this moment.

Hannibal was never going to let him hear the end of it so Will reasoned he had nothing to lose. He caught a server with a refreshed tray of champagne.

“A toast to Franklin for saving our Hannibal and all his future dinner parties.”

Chapter Text

The car ride back to Hannibal’s place was...interesting.

“I warned you.” Will said, testing the waters.

“You did.” Hannibal nodded, placid in his response.

“Franklin has an interesting friend.” Will tried again.

“I noticed.” Was all he got.

Are you mad?” Will asked because he might as well go for the throat on this one.

“You would know if I were.” Hannibal said with a razor smile, “I’m thinking.”

“Since all my organs remain within me, I would say you’re an odd mixture of stuff right now.” Will squinted as he studied his odd companion.

“Stuff? Is that your professional assessment, Special Agent Graham?” Drew a slight smile out of Hannibal.

“I don’t think you’re up for some dissection right now.”

“Au contraire, I am always up for some dissection.” Hannibal corrected to receive a withering look from Will.

“Do you think Tobias is as well?” Will asked, finally addressing the elephant in the room.

“You already know the answer to that.” Hannibal chided.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Will sighed into his palms as he rubbed his face with his hands. This wasn’t an instance of “only time will tell”. It was more of a “when”, “where”, and “again” scenario. Tobias was too confidant. That was never a good sign. It meant he was either really good at what he did, or he thought he was better at it than he actually was. Neither were optimal on their own or in combination. “I suppose you’re going to be busy the next couple of weeks.”

“It would appear so. Planning dinner parties can become labor intensive.” Hannibal went back to being his version of thoughtful again. Will decided that this phase must be part of his creative process. He wondered how many trains of thought Hannibal had going simultaneously in his head.

“I’m going home then. You don’t get to use me as an alibi, or drug me into being one this time.” Will decided.

“You could always come with me. Dinner parties take extensive planning.” Hannibal offered, looking pleased with himself about something.

“I’m sure yours do. Have fun with that.” Will barked out laughter, surprised into it and at himself.

“I always do.” Hannibal said, “Stay the night though. It’s late and you’ve been drinking.

They went to bed , content in their own unique ways, having no classes or patients to deal with the next day. So, of course, Jack woke them up before the ass crack of dawn could moon the last of the night into leaving. It was cold, early, and dark, all those descriptors being some of Will’s least favorite things.

On the plus side, Will did get to watch Hannibal successfully counter Jack anytime the agent tried to rush them out the door, which in the end wasn’t all that hard considering Jack was weak for Hannibal’s cooking and coffee. To Will though, it was still somewhat astonishing to witness firsthand.

“The victim was found in a hotel bathroom. There was abdominal mutilation and organ removal.” Jack said in Hannibal’s kitchen as he slugged down truly exquisite coffee like it was water. Will was taking at a far more sedate pace, and Hannibal couldn’t be bothered at all if the size of breakfast was anything to go by. It looked like some fancy egg and spinach thing with cheese stuffed into thin pancakes.

Acting on a knee jerk reaction, Will shot a look over Jack’s shoulder at Hannibal who gave him his version of “As if” expression back.

“Sounds more like an urban legend than the Ripper, no?” Will asked Jack and his coffee.

“I more prefer the ‘call is coming from inside the house’ theme myself.” Hannibal said as he did marvelous things to eggs, meat, cheese, and produce.

“I’ve had the room sealed. I need you on this one. I need you to tell me if it’s the Ripper or not.” Jack told Will, “Then you can go back to class.”

“More like a day off for both of us.” Hannibal as he plated up crepes stuffed with buttery eggs, wilted spinach, and some sausage made from rude clerk named Dave, Jack getting a little extra of the man who had provided his organs for this meal.

“Murder trumps free time.” Jack said easily, and he wasn’t wrong, but Will could sense Hannibal’s intent. He still got to spend the day with Will, but now with a dead body. Will could tell Hannibal was over the he moon about it. The commentary was just emotional leverage on Hannibal’s part to gaslight Jack.

“You don’t want me back to class.” Will pointed out, and if that came out a little sour sounding, Jack could just deal with it. “Never did.”

“Your bad luck that your the best, pal.” Jack said as food was placed before them, “As always, this looks amazing.”

“It’s a blending of cultures, a frittata with sausage inside a crepes served with fresh currants.” Hannibal explained.

“I’ve never had fresh currants before.” Jack said, already digging in.

“They look like tiny grapes.” Will poked at them. They looked like a pain in the ass to eat.

“You’ll find them pleasantly tart. They make for an excellent palette cleanser.” Hannibal said, eating at a far more sedate pace.

“Are you expecting another couple of bodies after this one?” Will asked because they were those kind of people. One didn’t stay in their line of work if they couldn’t talk shop over a meal.

“If it’s the Ripper, yes, I am.” Jack said gravely.

“Don’t let the Ripper stir you up.” Will said, emphasizing this by pointing his fork at Jack.

“He left you Miriam Lass’s arm for a reason.” Hannibal also warned in his own way.

“And why is that?” Jack asked.

“So he could poke you with it.” Will said much to Hannibal’s amusement.

“Yeah, but why not the rest of her?” Jack was frustrated, obviously so. It put a twinkle in Hannibal’s eyes as he collected their now empty plates. Jack could wait while they being domestic, Hannibal washing the dishes while Will dried them.

“I was curious about that myself. What are your thoughts on it, Will?” Said the bastard of Baltimore, digging for compliments. Will sighed in answer as Hannibal filled a thermos full of coffee. Of course, this was all about him even when it was not.

“His other victims...he wanted to humiliate in death, like...like a public dissection.” Will explained, though he doubted that they had seen the last of Miriam. “She was different. Miriam was different. She was special.”

“He was probably impressed that she was able to find him.” Jack looked close to swearing up a storm. “He may be starting a new cycle, Will.”

Well, Jack wasn’t wrong, but even a broken clock is right twice a day. Will bit his tongue hard to keep from dissolving into laughter. The next couple of weeks were going to stressful, interesting yet so incredibly stressful.

“The Ripper contacted you directly. If he was killing again, he wouldn’t be subtle about it.” Will said as they geared up and headed out the door. “He would just pick up the phone.”

“Have you had anymore phone calls, Jack?” Hannibal asked, his glee barely continued behind the mask.

“No. No, I have not.”

Chapter Text

“Has anyone touched the body?” Jack boomed loud enough to make a few newbies and other attending officers jump.

“Do I smell coffee?” Beverley asked the important question, already homing in on Hannibal. He had charmed a maid into getting some cups for him.

“Help yourself. I thought you all might need the caffeine.” Hannibal said as he was all but bum rushed by the team for the fragrant steaming fuel. “Claire was kind enough to bring sugar and cream along with the cups.”

Claire being the enamored maid, and Hannibal being the odd murder duck of quirks, but that’s why he was so Teflon. People wanted to like him, and be liked back by him, no matter what their station was in life. It was brilliant psychological terrorism on Hannibal’s part.

“Can anyone answer my question?” Jack prompted again.

“For once, local police behaved themselves.” Zeller managed out first. He took his coffee with not enough cream to cool it down, burning his tongue in the process.

“It’s fairly evident the man’s dead just by looking at him.” Price took his time with precise amounts of the cream and sugar, only after inhaling the aroma of the brew.

“I touched the body. A lot going on with that body.” Beverly took her coffee black as night and sweet as sin. Will realized that he was quirky too as he made a mental note about how everyone took their coffee for whatever reasons. Brains are strange meat computers.

“Surgery was performed-“ Price started.

“And then un-performed.” Hannibal called from the bathroom to finish for him, already beside the body to inspect it.

“I taste dark chocolate notes with a spiced finish. Jamaican?” Price was a man who apparently knew and enjoyed his coffee.

“It is an organic Blue Moon from Bali. I find it’s an excellent coffee for group likability. My own personal preference is Grand Moka Matari from Yemen.” Hannibal said, “It is full bodied with bright acidity. It has delicate notes of apricot, dark chocolate, and dates with just hint of spice and caramel.”

“I love your palette.” Price sighed, a mixture of reverence and envy.

“Have him brew you a cup from the most complicated coffee maker I’ve ever seen when you stop by for the bees.” Will snorted, though he really couldn’t blame Price. It was damn good coffee.

“Complicated how?” Price immediately honed in on Will with a certain intensity.

“It looks more like it should be in a lab reanimating the dead than a kitchen.” Will shrugged, “All silver and glass with tubing.”

“Oh my stars and garters, don’t tell me you have a Classic Palladium Vacuum Coffeemaker?” Price gasped.

“Guilty as charged. You know your coffee craft.” No one should look that cheerful beside a corpse.

“Need I remind everyone that we’ve got a body and a possible Ripper case on our hands?” Jack brought them all out of their caffeinated bliss.

“It’s not the Ripper. Can I go now?” Will said, already knowing the answer to that, but hey, maybe one day he’d get lucky. It was obviously not Hannibal’s doing. For one thing, it was far too...messy? Will decided that the word ‘unprofessional’ fit better. Jack looked like he was about to have an aneurism so Will took that as a hard no.

“Surgery was un-performed with bare hands, sutures clawed open.” Zeller launched into it before realizing that Jack was staring him down. “I, uh, I also...did a little bit of touching.”

Will snorted, moving toward the bathroom as he followed a trail of sorts. Zeller should just own it like Beverly.

“Pieces of him were torn off from the bed to the bathroom, like breadcrumbs.” Price supplied as they all followed after Will to join Hannibal. The bathroom from messy, but not as messy as it could or should have been.

“Surgery wasn’t performed here.” Will said as he took it all in.

“Yes, there would be a lot more blood.” Hannibal agreed. He would know best, but that didn’t keep Will from rolling his eyes at the corpse.

“If he’s moving his victims, he could be performing the mutilations in a some sort of transport.” Beverly said.

“Find the car, find the killer.” Price said, sounded pleased though it was usually easier said than done.

“He tore open his own sutures.” Will said aloud as he turned that tidbit over to cook a little bit longer in his head.

“It wasn’t to get to his kidney.” Price said.

“It’s already been removed.” Hannibal confirmed, kneeling back down to study the body in the tub closer.

“The Ripper already took it with him.” Beverly said, “Or her.”

“I’d say him.” Price grumbled.

“I would have to agree, though some of the most prominent serial killers have been women.” Hannibal said, making some heads whip around to look at him. “Giulia Tofana was a professional poisoner in the mid-1600’s. Her creation, known as Aqua Tofana was a odorless and tasteless poison that is believed to have killed over 600 people, most of which were men.”

“We know Aqua Tofana was made mostly out of lead, arsenic, and belladonna, but the original recipe probably died with its creator when she was eventually executed.” Will added, “Someone got cold feet when it came to murdering their husband.”

“She doesn’t count.” Zeller argued, “That would be like accusing a cashier of collaborating in murder for selling someone rat poison.”

“Are you so quick to deny Tofana her status because she merely created and sold the poison with that sole intent, or that she was a woman?” Hannibal mused. Will debated with himself whether or not to intervene.

“Whoa! Hey, I believe in equal opportunity when it comes to murder.” Zeller said, “C’mon, that’s a stretch.”

“Didn’t make her victims any less dead.” Will snorted.

“Then perhaps you should consider her sales pitch. That she convinced over 600 people to kill. She taught them to how to administer the poison. Her clients had to be vetted. One would hope that there would only one murder per client, but even if that was the case, Tofana actively took part in over 600 murders, the ones that they know of anyway.”

“Holy shit.” Zeller took it all in. Poison was a nasty business.

“My money is on the Bloody Baroness, Elizabeth Báthory. The highest number stated at her trail was 650. Her victims were mostly girls and young women, though it’s been claimed that the number is much higher than that.” Will said.

“Yeah, but she had help.” Zeller seemed to want to die on this hill, so Will let him.

“That many people? I would think so.” Hannibal chuckled, “She was a petite woman.”

“What did he take out of the chest?” Jack snapped.

“Going for the heart. Probably interrupted. It’s intact. Traumatized, but it’s intact.” Zeller said, which should have been another clue. The Ripper was an artist who set up elaborate themes. He took great care not to be interrupted. This scene was far too kinetic to be the Ripper. His kills were museum quality. This was run of the mill, teenage graffiti.

“Everyone out!” Jack ordered, pausing at the door. “Doctor?”

“I do believe that I shall remain with dear Will.” Hannibal said, which was fine by Will. The good doctor was excellent about keeping other people out of rooms, and knowing the exact amount of personal space Will needed to work in. Fuck him for making things so goddamn effortless at times like these.

The room, the scene, was all gone with a couple of mind swipes. In its place was the same room, but with a new occupant. There was a stag with glossy black raven feathers waiting for him. It had an air of impatience about it.

“You’re new.” Will greeted the strange beast. It did not appear to be violent or even afraid of him. The stag with feathers, the Ravenstag, snorted at him before wandering away towards the bathroom.

“Well, okay then. I guess this is a thing now. Great.” Will muttered as he followed after the mental manifestation. He hoped that this was some new harmless quirk, and not another reason to keep drinking. One of these days, he’s gonna have to stop lying to himself. It was never a harmless quirk, and there were oceans of liquor ahead of him.

“Everything all right, dear Will?” The Ravenstag asked in Hannibal’s voice as he entered the bathroom. Will stared back at it.

“Peachy. Just peachy.” Will sighed, firmly turning attention back to the body. Restart was hit, and off they went.

“Signs of a struggle indicate he suffered from a severe, violent emergence from deep sedation.” Will narrated as he went through the motions of this man’s murder. “I open his chest wall. I spread the ribs. I...I take his heart in my hand so I can-“

“What do you see?” Hannibal asked, Will back in the real world where Hannibal just looked like himself.

“Something very disturbing, and that’s saying something coming from me.” Will shook himself, wondering if he should mention the Ravenstag. His gut told Will to keep that gem to himself.

“What could possibly so disturbing about this?” The notorious serial killer asked beside the fresh corpse.

“If we weren’t at a crime scene, I might be up for some riddles in the dark.” Will said.

“No need. You’re already my precious.” Was the unexpected answer.

“I take it you’ve read the books, but have you seen the movies?” Will asked. Hannibal just stared in answer at him. “Movie marathon it is then. Clear a weekend from Friday to Sunday.”

“An entire weekend?” Hannibal looked almost askance.

“Yup. Only the strong survive here. I’m including the Hobbit trilogy along with the other three. All director’s cut, extended edition.” Will said.

“How is the Hobbit a trilogy? It’s a singular book, and not a particularly long one, at least not long enough to merit three movies.”

“It’s a little over 22 hours long.” Which gave Hannibal reason to pause.

“I don’t know whether to be intrigued or concerned.”

“The Fellowship of the Ring trilogy runs for around 28 hours and some change.” Will informed Hannibal, enjoying the look on his face.

“I’ll have to decline.” Hannibal decided.

“I’ll put you down as my emergency contact.” Will tried to sweeten the pot.

“I already am.”

“I don’t know why I’m even a little surprised by that.” Will kinda miffed at himself about that one. “I’ll willingly go the the opera again.”

“You’ll do that anyway. You enjoyed the performance, not so much the socialization.” Hannibal challenged.

Gotcha.

“I’ll allow you to create a space for yourself upstairs at my place, whatever and however you want.”

“We’ll marathon your vile cinema the weekend after the dinner party.” Hook, line, and sinker. “What are your thoughts about this killer?”

“That they weren’t actually trying to kill.” Will sighed.

“Agreed. This was done by a novice.”

“Everyone is a novice to you.” Will rolled his eyes, “We better call Jack in before he blows a blood vessel.”

“This wasn’t brutal. The killer was trying to save his life with internal cardiac massage. Has the Ripper ever done that? Tried to save a life?” Was what Will greeted Jack with. The science team decided to hang back in the doorway. If Jack’s expression was anything to go by, it was a good decision on their parts.

“It’s the Chesapeake Ripper.” Zeller losing brownie points with Will as he tried to earn them back from Jack.

“It’s not the Ripper.” Will sounded bored even to himself.

“There are too many similarities.”

“This crime scene has about as many similarities as a chicken does with a human.” Hannibal said, making everyone pause.

“What?” Zeller

“He’s referencing Plato and Diogenes Laërtius.” Price said in the tone of ‘obviously’.

“What do some dead Greek philosophers have to do with anything?” Zeller looked around the room for some support. He was not liking what he saw back.

“Plato once defined humans as a ‘featherless bipeds’. Diogenes Laërtius, also known as Diogenes the Cynic, presented him with a plucked chicken at his academy.” Beverly said, “Behold! A man!”

“How does everyone else know about this guy?” Zeller looked a little bewildered by his colleagues.

“The arts and humanities are just as important as the hard sciences.” Hannibal said.

“Well chickens aside, there are too many similarities here to ignore.” Zeller scoffed.

“There aren’t enough.” Will said, hoping his assessment would land this time, but to no avail.

“Knife wounds are cuts, not stabs. Anatomical knowledge, dissection skills, mutilation, organ removal, victim clothed and on display.” Zeller rattled off, and technically speaking, he wasn’t wrong. The vibe of the murder was just as important as its definitives though.

“Comparatively to the Ripper, how is he on display? This man is propped up in a bathtub with his kidney missing.” Oops, Zeller has stepped in it now. Hannibal was not amused.

“It’s the Ripper.” Was all Zeller got out before Will shut the bathroom door in his face. He’d live longer.

“Are you sure?” Jack asked, the man being quiet for once. It was disconcerting. He was breaking, slowly.

“Yup.” Oh boy was he sure.

“Tell me why you’re sure?”

Will faked a moment of deep thought to collect himself. It was either that or started hysterically laughing. “Doctor Lecter, perhaps you’d might like to field this one?”

“I would love to.” The Ripper said, “The Ripper left a victim in a church pew, using his tongue as a page maker in the Bible he was holding.”

“You’re both sure it’s not the Ripper because of aesthetics?” Jack challenged. Hannibal was up for it while Will sat this one out to watch. In his defense, Jack was a good agent. He would have to be to get where he was professionally, but Jack was completely shit at pursuing and capturing the bizarre, violent, and insane. They played by a set of rules that Jack just couldn’t grasp, couldn’t begin to comprehend.

“The long and short of it, yes. This scene lacks a signature to it, does it not? The devil is in the details, Jack.” Hannibal said, “Where is the devil in this?”

“That, and the Ripper doesn’t try to save his victims. This killer did. This is some medical student or someone trying to make an extra buck in a back alley surgery, and it went back.”

“I would say actively bad.” Hannibal said, “If I had to wager a guess, I would say that it’s an EMT.”

“It tracks.” Will nodded, “No one is going to question the presence of an ambulance coming or going, even if it has blood in it.”

“I’ll have the team check surveillance. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” Jack bit out the words, clearly disappointed.

“Jack, you’ll catch the Ripper eventually.” Not if he had anything to do with it without solid, completely damning evidence.

“Yeah, well, I want to catch him now.” Jack growled, “And when I do, I’m gonna shoot him.”

“You can’t just jack up the law and get underneath it.” Will said warily, not liking where this was going, how things were turning in Jack’s head.

“Can’t I?” Jack stared Will for a tense moment before departing.

“Enjoying yourself?” Will sighed. It was just them and the dead guy for the moment.

“Immensely.”

Chapter Text

Hannibal wasn’t typically one for profanities, but one word sprang to mind as soon as he opened the door to allow Franklin to finally leave.

Shit.

“Oh, hey there, buddy!” Will said as the profiler fake met them out in the hallway. “I was hoping I would run into you again before the shindig.”

Hannibal didn’t know where even to begin with that sentence, Will falling back into his Southern accent to give some “good ole boy” appeal to it. While what Franklin yearned for most wasn’t exactly sexual, feelings of being recognized and being included were.

“Franklin was just leaving. I’m afraid I have another patient immediately after him.” Which was why Will was here Hannibal suddenly realized.

“Damn, must have slipped my mind. You know when you have those days you don’t know if you’re coming or going, amirite?” Will joshed as he playfully nudged Franklin with his elbow like they were old childhood school chums, making sure to keep the man feeling ever so included. Franklin had the look of a person who just gotten one of those huge lotto checks.

“I feel ya, brother.” Franklin went for it. He realized he might have been a little too hasty to whip out the “brother” part, but it seemed to be landing well if Special Officier Graham’s answering grin was anything to go by.

“See? That’s a man who gets it.” Will using classic mirroring techniques. “He’s feeling it.”

“You said you were hoping to run into me?” Franklin ask hesitantly, his damnable hope peeked.

“Yes. Yes, I did, Mr. Froideveaux...Can I call you Franklin? Or do you prefer Frank?” Will leaned into his act, every bit of it appearing effortless and genuine. Hannibal would have applauded the effort if it were not for Franklin’s benefit.

“I prefer whatever you want.” Franklin all but swooned.

“Franklin it is then. Frank is much too blue collar for the likes of you.” Will flattered, keeping as much an eye on Hannibal’s reactions as he was gauging Franklin’s own. “You being a man of finer things while still managing to be relatable as salt of the earth kin.”

“I have always thought that about myself too.” Franklin nodded excitedly. If Hannibal believed in prayer, he would be speaking fervently to a higher power about Franklin’s instant demise.

“As you should.” Will said leaning in closer as if to say something in secret. “You see, it’s about the doc here.” He stage whispered, dramatically thumbing over at Hannibal, “I need your help.”

“What’s about me?” Hannibal was not here for this. No good would come of this folly.

“What’s about him?” Franklin was beyond on board for the folly.

“He loves wine, real wine. Personally, I think boxed wine is the modern equivalent of wine skins, but I digress. Yes, I know. I’m a heathen when it comes to the grapes.” Will said, “Franklin, can you tell me what goes well with wine?”

“Cheese!” Someone looked ready to drop dead from sudden happiness, Franklin spewing the word out like an excited teakettle.

“Yup, they sure do.” Will nodded, “And since I have all this time to kill because gosh darn it, I totally forgot about Hannibal’s next appointment, Franklin, would you terribly mind if I picked your brain about cheese?”

“I’ll tell you everything I know.” And Hannibal knew that this sentiment pertained well beyond cheese.

“Franklin is my patient. I don’t know how ethical that would be.” Hannibal tried to intervene, and if Will were other people, it might have worked.

“And it might be unethical if I were your patient too, but I’m not. I’ll also a highly trained profiler who works for the FBI so I’m not going to be giving a patient of yours any personal details about either of us.” Will shut that down. “But if Franklin wants to tell me everything he knows about cheese, he’s more than welcome to do so. Too bad you gotta work. Maybe next time.”

“Next time...” Hannibal’s perceptive mind taking him down all sorts of avenues, none of them to his liking.

“Next time?!” Franklin squeaked, making Hannibal inwardly wince from the pitch of it.

“Franklin, are you really going to try and tell me that it will only take a few mere couple of hours for you to teach me all you know about cheese divination?” Will said in what appeared to be all seriousness, “C’mon man, don’t try to bullshit a bullshitter. I mean the difference between the properties between Swiss and baby Swiss alone has got to be huge alone.”

“You’re cheese folk as well!” Franklin was actually tearing up. Hannibal was beginning to know how Dante felt while traveling through the various rings of Hell.

“More like a humble newcomer in the presence of cheese masters.” Will doing a funny little bow that hit its mark perfectly in the “aw shucks” kinda easy category. “Time’s a wasting’. Franklin, you in?”

“I’ll drive!” Franklin was already fumbling for his keys, dropping them twice from excitement.

“Don’t wait up, Hanny!” Will smirked before taking his leave.

“Hanny?!” Franklin squeaked, going wide eyed. Hannibal decided to break Franklin’s neck if he ever was stupid enough to use that ridiculous name.

“Oops, that just slipped out. It’s just my little pet name for him.” Will chuckled, throwing a wide, cat-on-crack grin over his shoulder at Hanny.

Shit.

Chapter Text

“Hello, come in.”

As per usual, Bedelia was living art, her long golden hair coifed to effortlessly tumble down her right shoulder, her outfit elegant and understated. Not a hair or thread was out of place. There was, however, a very slight, ever so subtle, upturn in her mouth’s corners. She was definitely amused about something.

“You appear to be in a good mood. What is it?” He asked politely, although Hannibal had a notion about what was the sudden cause for Bedelia’s mirth.

“Much to my own surprise, I will have to inform you that I do not offer my services for couple’s therapy.” Was what Hannibal was expecting to hear, but hoped not for.

Oh no.

“Hello, Will.”

“Hiyah, hun.” Will beamed from Bedelia’s rarely used couch, Southern accent still firmly in place. “Hope this isn’t a bad time for ya.”

“I’ve informed Mr. Graham of this as well.” Bedelia said as she sat down, effortlessly grace and poise in everything she did, even the mundane.

“Except, he’s not really your patient because you’ve retired over a very unfortunate incident involving one of your former patients, well, both of yours really, but that’s neither here or there...at the moment.” Will flashed his teeth in what could have passed as a smile with other people. Bedelia lost any amusement within her being in the face of it. “I’m not his patient or yours either so really we’re just three consenting adults having a conversation.”

“So it would seem.” Bedalia was on guard now, and rightly so.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game.” Will broke the ice after they sat for a quiet moment of them assessing each other.

“As are you.” Bedalia obversed.

“You wanna talk about his person suit or should I?” Will grinned, more fang than folly.

“It’s more like a veil...” Bedalia started, pausing when Will interrupted with a cackle. “Does something amuse you?”

“Who’s copying who?” Will asked, pointing between the good doctors.

“Will,” Hannibal warned.

“Oh c’mon! This is fun.” Will looked back and forth before settling down again.

“I assure you it’s not.” Hannibal started.

“I agree with Hannibal.” Bedelia finished.

“Yeah, you would, wouldn’t you?” Will chuckled, the sound unpleasant. “Have you figured it out yet?”

“Figured what out yet?” Bedelia was playing her own game, using the tools of her profession at her disposal.

“He’s copying you.” Will generously gave away the answer, “You’re his psychiatrist template.”

“Fascinating. How did you come to that conclusion?” Bedelia said, though she kept her eyes on the lion in the room, keeps an ongoing tally on its temperament.

“It’s all about perfection with Hannibal, or at least his version of it. This,” Will vaguely gesturing at him, “Currently, this is not a perfect fit for an ER surgeon. While this persona is good, but it’s not perfect for his former profession. He would have had to construct something else, something like...you. This person suit has far more stored potential than kinetic, less reactionary than before.”

“Much like how you are when you are a teacher at the FBI differs from being a field agent in your own line of work.” Bedelia tried to level the playing field.

“Oh, she’s good.” Will said, completely unbothered by the assessment, “How do you see me?”

“As someone who saves a baby bird when they happen upon one.” Bedelia said, choosing her words with care while still managing to be dismissive. “How do you see me, Mr. Graham?”

“As someone who steps on a baby bird when they happen upon one.” Will shot back, “I see why he likes you. As I said before, you’re good, really good...but not so good that you didn’t figure out his little game in time.”

“What game would that be?” Bedelia became a prism of well maintained, hidden emotions.

“You’ve already lost at it.” Will stated instead of answering or explaining. There was no need too. They both knew about it. “Shame really. How unpleasant for you.”

“You...have not?” Bedelia’s pause was heavy.

“Not yet.” Hannibal said, making Bedelia and Will look over at him.

“Rude answering for me like that, but you gotta love his confidence.” Will shrugged, getting up.

“I felt you needed the reminder.” Hannibal said, “Where are you off to now?”

“Things to do, people to screw.” Another grin was on Will’s face, the expression unsettling both doctors in different ways.

“Will,” Hannibal sighed.

“You heard the lady. She doesn’t do couple’s therapy.” Will said, “Anyway, I just wanted to meet her. Had to.”

“Why?” Bedelia asked, her tone cool as winter kissed steel.

“The big picture of this has broad strokes, and whether you want to be a part of it or not, you’re one of those broad strokes.” Will smirked, letting Bedelia know that he was unimpressed with her brand of charm, “I would wish you good luck, but it don’t believe the feeling would be mutual.”

“I think a drink is in order.” Bedelia said after a moment of held tense silence.

“Red or white?” Hannibal asked.

“Something scotch, don’t you think?” Bedelia sighed. She loved her wine, but sometimes the 14% just couldn’t cut it.

“He does have that effect on others.” Hannibal amused, annoyed, and yet, still feeling oddly proud of Will. He had merely stated that he had a psychiatrist, never once disclosing Bedelia’s name or really anything else about her. Love was an odd emotion to experience.

“It is not...sustainable.” Bedelia said as she handed off the cut crystal tumbler, a generous three finger pour of excellent scotch in both glasses.

“You and I, or myself and Will?”

“Both.”

Chapter Text

“Good evening, Will. Please come in.”

“You’ve been drinking. You’re drunk.” Will eyed his host in something akin to amazement.

“I’ve had a glass of wine in the security and comfort of my own home.” Hannibal said loftily as Will followed him into the parlor. There was a fire going, though Will was unsurprised by that. Hannibal valued being warm. There was a fireplace in any room he spent a substantial amount of time in. There was even one in his office.

“Something happened to him,” Will’s second thoughts whispered to him. His third thoughts continued, “It happened to him when he was young, scarred him.” Will made note of this, deciding to dwell on it later. He had noticed this quirk before. Will knew it was important. He just didn’t know why yet.

“More like several.” Will corrected, “I may not have your sense of smell, but I know scotch when I smell it. My my my, are you rattled?”

“Hardly…” Hannibal smirked, “Though, I can’t say the same about Dr. Du Maurier. You really owe her an apology.”

Will just laughed at such a notion. That would happen when Hell froze over. “She’s an unconventional psychiatrist.”

“We have that in common.” It was a delight to witness Hannibal intoxicated, not that anyone else other than himself would probably notice. The good doctor wasn’t slurring or even made clumsy in the slightest. The depth of his expressions, the openness of them was the giveaway. That, and whatever he used in his hair had released its firm hold so that it framed Hannibal’s face. It gentled the harsh cut of his cheekbones and the other angles of his unusual face. One had to admire Hannibal’s control. “I thought we were merely having conversations, Dr. Lecter.”

Which made Hannibal make his version of a face at him. He did not like Will calling him by his title.

“Yes, and no.” Hannibal amended.

“It’s complicated?” Will offered.

“Have a glass of wine with me.” Hannibal said, already getting up to pour him a glass of something pink of all things. Hannibal mostly drank reds.

“Is it drugged?” Will asked, just for the hell of it. He more wanted to know what kind of answer he would get than anything else, testing the waters of this alcohol diluted pond.

“Not this time.” Hannibal said a little too gleefully for Will’s liking, but he accepted the glass anyway with a shrug. Hannibal joined him on whatever a fancy sofa was called…he found out later it was a chaise lounge because of course it was…so Will went through the process of sampling it properly instead of just drinking it. It didn’t go unnoticed, Hannibal smiling over at him.

“Why her?” Will risked. Hannibal seemed to be particularly chatty like this.

“Why not?” Hannibal was certainly enjoying himself with his soft hair and pink wine. He was dressed down, his version of it anyway. The tie, vest, and coat were gone, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

“Well, she is one of your creations. One of many, I presume.” Will said, trying and failing to not notice how good Hannibal’s forearms looked.

“That’s as good an answer as any. I read Freddie Lounds article. The Chesapeake Ripper strikes again.” Hannibal said, toasting himself. He chucked at Will’s eye roll.

“Imagine that.” Will said dryly, “Are you done for now?”

“Why? Have you missed me?” Hannibal all but crooned. With his accent, it made something flutter inside of Will.

“Don’t flatter yourself anymore than you already do. Answer the question.” Will pressed, ignoring those unfamiliar tingly sensations going on in his gut. He hoped the wine was drugged because the other options of what it could be were not good.

“Yes…for now. Certainly for the moment.” Hannibal smiled, the expression wicked from its sharpness before turning into something far more gentle. “Stay the night?”

“It’s not like I have a choice.” Will’s answer making Hannibal look amused about something. “What is it?”

“How long are you going to keep telling yourself that?” Hannibal said, making Will frown.

He was missing something so Will ignored the question for now. “Yeah, I’ll stay, but we have to get up early in the morning. They’ve found the last of your sounder. The team is processing it right now.”

“I’m shocked Jack isn’t trying to break down my front door.” Hannibal looking quite pleased about life. From the staging of it all, Will could tell that the Ripper had had fun with this one.

“Thanks to you mimicking the organ harvester,” Oh, Hannibal certainly didn’t want to be reminded of his short comings, even if it was intentional this time. He gave Will a sour look. “The team is split about it. Jack isn’t really interested in it if it’s not the Ripper. We’re going in to confirm who’s responsible for the brutalization and harvest of organs.”

“All those valuable organs. Jack keeps looking for a serial killer he can’t seem to catch.” Cheered Hannibal up immensely.

“It’s a brilliant diversion.” Will admitted after a moment of thought. It made Hannibal beam over at him. Unexpectedly, it took Will’s breath away. This wasn’t a facade hidden within a person suit. The expression was open and real and every so lovely in its sincerity. Hannibal wasn’t even being smug. He was just genuinely happy that Will had paid him a compliment.

“Take me to bed.” Hannibal said softly. It wasn’t quite a question yet it wasn’t a command either, and it was doing things to Will. Things and thoughts and feelings he had so rarely experienced for himself that he had not recognized it for what it was. Whatever he had felt for Alana paled and withering in comparison to this thing growling inside of him.

Will was in love, utterly and truly in love. He was horribly in love with one of the most terrible people in existence.

And yet, suddenly leaning over to kiss Hannibal’s lips was the easiest thing for Will to do. He actually startled Hannibal by climbing into the man’s lap to deepen the kiss with a fierce passion that surprised them both. Will held Hannibal’s face in his hands, licking and nipping the unraveling seam of his thin mouth.

“Or here if you prefer.” Hannibal rasped out when Will allowed it.

“As much as I would love to ruin your upholstery, I want to see you splayed out beneath me.” Will admitted, a bit breathless.

The next few minutes was them making their way to the bedroom. It took longer than usual as they stripped the clothes off one another, pausing numerous times to kiss, grope, and touch.

It was all a blur until Will found himself hilted deep within Hannibal, his lover panting beneath him.

Something broke…not broke…more morphed in Will. Sex was usually an intimate thing for normal people. For Will, it could be a free fall deep dive into another person’s psyche. That wasn’t always a good thing. It certainly wasn’t a good thing now, but all the failsafes were off in Will’s head. His hand was upon Hannibal’s throat, not choking him but definitely keeping him in place as Will thrust hard into him. Hannibal’s face was serene as he looked up at Will, as if he was experiencing something divine.

It made Will feel powerful. Tumbling down this rabbit hole, he left off the grip on Hannibal’s neck so that he could hold the Ripper down by his broad shoulders. Leaning in, practically lunging, Will’s teeth found the junction of Hannibal’s neck. He bit down. He bit down hard. As blood welled up in his mouth, Will experienced Hannibal’s orgasm. Heard his sigh, the tempo of his breathing, the heat pouring off of his skin, the way he clenched around Will’s cock as he came, the soft sweet nothings he kept whispered in a language Will didn’t understand in rapid concession, the metallic flavor of pennies that coated Will’s mouth, Hannibal’s pulse ringing off of his teeth.

Will lost himself in his own release. It was like being bodily thrown into an ocean, forcibly enough that one just floated for a moment after impact as they tried to decide which way was up in time to keep living.

Will only came back to himself when he realized that Hannibal was licking his own blood from out of his mouth. He allowed Hannibal to guide him down onto his back, the cannibal licking all the sweat, blood, and spend off of Will as if he were a feast.

The bite mark would be easy enough to cover up, Hannibal wearing so many layers on the daily. It still bled, little rivulets of blood coursing down Hannibal’s chest, getting caught in his chest hair. Will lazily ran his finger through them, smearing more red across Hannibal’s skin.

“Usually, I would apologize,” Will said.

“But you’re not going to.” Hannibal smiled as if Will had just said something charming.

“No, I’m not. I think I just gave you exactly what you wanted.” Will said as he licked the blood off of his fingertips.

“What do you want in return?” Hannibal’s eyes tracked what Will’s tongue was doing.

To not be so madly in love with you, Will thought to himself.

“For you to not do whatever you’re planning for me.” Will said quietly, looking away.

“Will, Mielasis,” Hannibal sighed, “I need you to trust me.”

“Hannibal, if you break it, break me, you’ll lose me in every aspect of the word. Abandonment only hurts if one has expectations.” Was the closest Will could come to saying ‘I love you’ out loud, “Choose you next words wisely.”

“I always do. Words are living things. They have personality, point of view, agenda.” Hannibal said in diversion.

“They’re pack hunters.” Will nodded.

“Will it suffice to say that your expectation of me are high?”

“Would you have it any other way?”

“No, Mielasis, I would not.”

“Mielasis had better not mean dinner.” Will sighed, making Hannibal laugh.

Will never got his answer, not a real one anyway, but he already knew it would foolish to hold onto hope.

Chapter Text

“Found this one in a school bus, sitting across the aisle from himself. Not only did the Ripper take his kidneys…” Zeller paused like he was about to accomplish something, “But he also took his heart, which, if you’ll recall, is what he tried to do in the hotel, but was interrupted before he could paint his picture.”

“Which doesn’t sound like the Ripper at all. The Ripper wasn’t painting a picture in the hotel. Someone else was.” This was his life right now. Hannibal looked particularly pleased about Will defending his work. Will wished he didn’t look so damn smug about it.

“You still think he was ripping out a heart to save a life?” Zeller asked incredulously, like this wasn’t Will’s entire profession, the one he literally taught FBI classes on.

“Yes, I do. I don’t think. I know.” Will snapped, sick and bored stiff from all this back and forth.

“Well, the Ripper painted this picture, for sure.” Beverly gestured to their unfortunate bus passenger. As expected, he had company, four bodies in total laid out before them. Will wondered what they had done to piss Hannibal off, making a mental note to ask later.

“Could all victims’ organs have been harvested for transplant?” Will decided to focus on finding this wannabe surgeon.

“Absolutely. One could put the organs on a ventilator, long enough to coordinate the donation.” Hannibal said, taking his time walking around the bodies. Three out of the four were his, of course, so he was just peacocking now. Hannibal was also soaking up all the rage Jack was quietly exuding as he just stood there, staring down the corpses like they might sit up and talk.

“A subtle variation on waking up in a tub of ice missing a kidney?” Beverly said, clearly intrigued.

“I love a good urban legend.” Price as well.

Zeller, not so much. “At the hotel, the victim’s abdominal aorta and inferior vena cava, that’s like the kidney’s in-and-out for blood, was entirely removed.” Will inwardly groaned, wondering about his odds were about keeping Zeller alive. He didn’t really want to be fed Zeller at some point.

“They’re like USB cables. You keep them intact for an easy reconnection.” Beverly explained to Will further.

“That is a wonderful analogy. I believe you would have been delightful as one of my residents.” Hannibal graced Beverly with a compliment, souring Zeller.

“You and my parents both, but I prefer them non-moving and quiet.” Beverly grinned.

“My former profession’s loss is the FBI’s gain.” Hannibal said, lavishing his attention on her. Yup, if anyone of the team were going to survive this ordeal, it would be Beverly and Price. “Were Mr. Caldwill’s heart and kidneys disconnected for an easy reconnect?”

“Yes, they were.” Beverly was highly intelligent, but she, like so many others, fell for Hannibal’s charm. You simply wanted to like him, and be liked by him.

“Um, other Ripper victims’ organs and USB cables missing?” Will asked, wishing this wasn’t so tedious. This was so damn time consuming, having to convince the entire time of “who did what to whom”.

“It’s inconclusive due to the degree of mutilation, but yes, that’s how the Ripper rips.” Zeller answered.

Oh Zeller, you not long for this world, are you? Will wished he believed in prayer. He could really do with some patience right about now.

“Two different killers, same agenda?” Will could have hugged Beverly.

“Is the organ harvester disguising his work as the crime of serial killer, or is the serial killer disguising his crime as the work of an organ harvester?” Brownie points awarded to Price as well. Beverly and Price were on board. Zeller still had the air of being a terrier about it all being the Ripper so Will had to do something he’d rather not with Hannibal present.

“The Chesapeake Ripper,” And now he had the entire room’s attention, Will keeping his voice soft and thoughtful, almost with the quality of reverence. “Wants to perform. Every brutal choice has…elegance, grace.”

Could monsters fall in love? Hannibal certainly looked like he was giving it a try.

“His mutilations hide the true nature of his crimes.” Will finished, looking away so he wouldn’t start blushing under Hannibal’s intense scrutiny or in front of the team whose job was to be observant.

“I wish he was a little less mysterious about it. These are all missing different organs. Before, we were just looking at waiting lists for a heart or a kidney.” Price looked irritated as he moved from body to body. “Now we’re looking at hearts, kidneys, livers, stomachs, pancreases. This guy is missing a spleen!”

Jimmy Price was not a happy man.

“A spleen! Who the hell gets a spleen transplant?” Will bit back a smile as Price fussed at the corpses. Hannibal was doing something similar to hide his own amusement.

“Intestines are the only organ missing from this body?” Will asked before Price started frothing at the mouth over spleens. All this was like leading a damn horse to water to try making that fucker drink.

“Yeah, right, so we’re either looking for someone with short bowels or…” Zeller said, this time coming closer to the truth than anyone else for once. “The Ripper is making sausage.”

“He’s selling these organs to someone.” Jack said, reminding everyone that he was still in the room.

“We don’t even know if he’s transplanting them within the US. He could be exporting them to China.” Zeller sighed.

“The Chinese have a cultural taboo that restricts voluntary donation. You gotta die with all your parts, or you dishonor Mommy and Daddy.” Price expanded.

“I mean, you could still kill a guy for parts. That doesn’t break the taboo.” Zeller said.

“I was agreeing with you.” Price sassed when Zeller gave him a look. “Well, I was.”

“Your tone was a little…” Zeller said, giving Will a moment of insight about the pair. There was something there if either of them wanted it to be there. Will wondered if they knew.

“Okay, okay.” Jack put an end to the tiff, a little to Will’s disappointment. Hannibal caught his eye to wink at him. They definitely had something new to talk about. “How many killers?”

“Two.” Will answered easily enough.

“You confident one of them is the Chesapeake Ripper?” Jack asked his favorite question.

“Yup.” Will put an emphasis on the ‘p’ so it popped. Jack looked annoyed, but kept sullenly silent for once.

“What have we got on the possibility of a kill vehicle?” Will asked the room.

“”About that,” Beverly answered, looking radiant about something so Will knew the next part was going to be good. “I think I’ve got something. I’ve been looking for the kill truck-a van or SUV-but it was a whole lot easier than that.”

Beverly put what she had found on the main viewing screen in the lab. It was a bird’s eye view of a parking lot with a cop car arriving while an ambulance left the scene. All in all, it looked pretty unremarkable.

“What am I looking at here?” Jack asked for the group.

“One of the hotel’s security cameras.” Beverly said as the team played “Where’s Waldo” looking for the clue.

“And the kill truck?” Jack prompted.

“It’s a private ambulance.” Will answered, his amazement making Beverly grin over at him.

“The city works with dozens of private companies. So what?” Zeller grumped, not recognizing the importance of the scene playing out before they all.

“Including this one, but not as a first responder. A first responder driving away was from the emergency.” Beverly wasn’t about to be detoured. “An ambulance would be a smart place to perform surgery.”

“Indeed. No one would think twice about seeing blood in an ambulance.” Hannibal nodded.

“And if the cops show up, blend in and drive away.” Beverly said.

“Society, including law enforcement, knows not to hinder an ambulance.” Will added.

“Excellent work, Ms. Katz. You may have just found one of our killers.” The Ripper told her.

“Looks like we got a lead, people!” Jack boomed, the team like a pack of hunting dogs catching the whiff of a scent as everyone grabbed their stuff in preparation to leave. “Doctor Lecter, I assume you’ll be tagging along to help catch the Ripper?”

“How could I refuse? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Hannibal’s answer made Will want to kick him.

Beverly basically took lead, quickly sussing out where MN19 would be when it became apparent that the ambulance was not in the garage for repairs. Their suspect was a medical pretender, one Devon Silvestri who was taking the MCAT’s. Beverly find their kill truck easily enough with a DF sweep.

Hannibal and Will stayed back by the cars as Jack led other armed agents to the ambulance with a shotgun steady in his hand, ready to jack up the law of it turned out to be the killer he hoped and prayed for.

“This entire process has been very educational.” Hannibal smiled as the doors of the ambulance were flung open. Mr. Silvestri was definitely in there, working on his next victim.

“Try not to sound so smug about it.” Will muttered.

“Doctor Lecter!” Jack yelled, his shotgun still trained on Mr. Silvestri who was not coming out like he was supposed to.

Exchanging a look between them, Hannibal and Will jogged over to the ambulance. They discovered that Mr. Silvestri had been interrupted mid-surgery and that his victim was still very much alive at the moment.

“I need you to assess the situation here, Doctor.” Jack bit out. He was definitely irked about having to ask Hannibal for help, but he prioritized.

Whisking his coat off to hand off to Will for safekeeping, Hannibal quickly climbed into the ambulance to glove up. “He was removing his kidney.” Hannibal confirmed. “Poorly.” He added, making Mr. Silvestri grimace up at him. Will was glad he was in the back as he quietly laughed.

“Do it.” Jack snapped.

And then the real performance began. Will had not been exaggerating in the lab about Hannibal’s elegance or grace. He performed surgery as easily as breathing. Will watched transfixed as he witnessed firsthand the Ripper saving a life. After experiencing all of Hannibal’s sounders in vivid, cruel detail, it was surreal. Will couldn’t make himself look away even if he wanted to.

“Have you got it?”

“I got it.”

“Mr. Silvestri, put your hands behind your head and the exit the vehicle slowly. Do it.” Jack ordered, Mr. Silvestri emerging with a defeated air about him. He was directed to the side of the ambulance. “On the ground. On your knees.”

Grateful that his view was now completely unobstructed, Will moved in a little closer to watch Hannibal work. He was entranced by the movements in Hannibal’s forearms, by the red on the blue of his gloves. Hannibal noticed Will watching him so intently, winking at him before turning his attention back to the victim’s guts.

“I am so fucked” was all Will could think to himself.

He was still thinking that to himself as he kept Hannibal company in Mrs. Komeda’s kitchen. She recently had it fully renovated to Hannibal’s specifications. She wasn’t about to allow Hannibal to weasel out of this dinner party for any reason under the sun. What surprised Will was the presence of other chefs, acting as supporting help. Will carefully stayed out of their way, doing his part by topping off his and Hannibal’s wine.

“What are you doing with that?” Will asked. There was a lot of moving parts, but he knew blood when he saw it.

“I have a butcher,” Which made Will roll his eyes, “Who carries sow’s blood.”…Aka the second victim in the latest sounder….“Centrifuge-separate the matter from the water-creates a transparent liquid. Serve the tomatoes in suspension and everybody will love the sweet taste.”

“Looks like you’re almost done here. I’ll go try to be a social butterfly.” Will sighed, downing the last of his wine. He ignored the annoyed look Hannibal gave him about the break in etiquette.

“Are you sure you can’t stay here with me?” Hannibal asked.

“Only if we can hide out here for the rest of the night.” Will tried his hand at bargaining.

“You underestimate the veracity and temperate of your host.” Hannibal chuckled.

“Speaking of which, I’d better go check in on how Franklin is doing in the deep end of high society.”

“Hopefully drowning.” Hannibal muttered.

“He’s not that bad. You’re just fussy.” Will grinned, already hearing Franklin’s call for him.

“Ah! Here you are in the inner sanctum.” Franklin gasped, wide eyed as he rubbed necked to take it all in.

“Yup! This is where all the magic happens.” Will ran interference before Franklin wandered in too far or got too close to Hannibal while he was holding a knife.

“Whatcha got there, good buddy?” Made Hannibal wince, Will’s use of his accent edging on malicious. He was about to roll out some Cajun French to see its effect, but Franklin did him a solid.

“Gouda.” Franklin said with reverence for the cheese.

“Oh Goudie!” Will said as he made full eye contact with Hannibal, watching the corner of his eye twitch ever so slightly from the pun.

Thankfully for everyone involved, Franklin soon left with Will, the pair happily chatting about Tyromancy and about the aged blue cheese Franklin had brought with him for tonight’s entertainment.

Hannibal sighed inwardly, taking a deeper sip of his red than he usually would have allowed himself. It was going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

To his chagrin and despite his best efforts, Hannibal ran into Franklin at José’s. He had been able to avoid the annoying little man after his referral when Hannibal had officially shut down his practice to focus on the FBI, and Komeda’s unfortunate dinner party. For once, Franklin didn’t excitedly approach him. He just politely nodded, and returned his attention to the extensive cheese collection Jose’s famously offered.

Franklin looked calm, relaxed collected, and was wearing far more casual clothing that he had done previously before. If anything, his outfit was more on par with something Will would wear. Hannibal felt simultaneously relieved and infuriated.

“Hello, Franklin. How have you been?” Hannibal asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“I still have a lot of respect for you, though we can’t be friends.“ Franklin said in greeting back.

“Who are you friends with?“ Hannibal asked, already knowing the answer, or at very least, he thought he did.

“I would be friends with Will if you were more comfortable with that.“ Franklin said, still appearing to be unbothered or hyped by their exchange.

“But you’re not?” Hannibal prodded.

“We are friendly. Will has been very good about explaining and establishing boundaries with me. He’s explained why we can’t be close friends due to the nature of his job and his relationship with you.“ Franklin said, making Hannibal wonder what the hell Will could have said to him to get that through Franklin’s thick skull. “He’s been really helping me realize my own self-worth, to the point that I’ve found myself looking at my other relationships with clearer eyes.”

“So which have you become? The profiler or the psychoanalyst?” This simply would not do. Even though he wasn’t his patient anymore, Hannibal couldn’t allow Franklin to gain any sort of confidence.

“Neither. I just feel like I am looking at things differently now, and according to Will, that’s all right. I am working on being my own person.” Franklin said, “I have a tendency to imitate people I admire.”

“And what have you discovered looking through clearer eyes?“ It was becoming increasingly apparent that Will’s meddling with Franklin had gone quite well.

“My friend Tobias may not be the person who I thought he is. I Googled ‘psychopaths, and went down the checklist.” Franklin’s new calm was being to show its cracks. “I was a little surprised to see how many boxes I had checked.”

“Why were you so curious to Google?” Hannibal asked. Now that he had met Franklin’s friend, it needed to be determined if Tobias was a threat or not.

“He’s been saying very dark things, and then saying ‘just kidding’ a lot. I asked Will about it, and he felt like it was cause for concern because it started to seem kind of crazy.” Franklin seemed to regain some of his mental footing when speaking about his Will.

“What did Will say?”

“That psychopaths aren’t crazy, and that they’re totally aware of what they do, and the consequences of those actions.“ Franklin said, “And that I should immediately get help if I felt my life was in danger.”

“He is correct.“ Damn him.

“Oh my God, would you diagnose someone like Tobias as a psychopath?“ Franklin asked.

“Tobias has never been a patient of mine. I can only analyze your perception of him. You could be projecting onto him what you consider to be your own flaws.” Hannibal turned it around, diluting Franklin’s newfound calm.

“Does that mean I am a psychopath? I think Will would’ve mentioned it.” Franklin fretted.

“Franklin, you’re not a psychopath.” Hannibal assured without doing so at all. “Although, you may be attracted to them.”

Hannibal began wondering just how often Will was around Franklin. He didn’t like the idea of them spending any amount of time together. His phone let his know that he was thinking of the Devil himself, Will’s ringtone interrupting them.

“Please excuse me. I have to take this.” Hannibal stepped off to the side, but pitched his voice just loud enough so that Franklin could still hear him. “Hello, Mielasis.”

“Leave Franklin alone.” Was the unexpected response.

“How did you know I was with Franklin?” Hannibal asked.

“Because you don’t typically answer the phone like that unless you’re trying to show off, and you mentioned that you swinging by the fancy cheese place today. Not a huge leap in logic.” Will said, “Knock it off with Franklin. He’s not your patient anymore, and it was one damn dinner party.”

“Were you calling for any particular reason?” They were definitely going to have a discussion about Franklin later on.

“We’ve got a body. Jack and I will swing by to pick you up in about thirty minutes.”

“Is it an interesting case?”

“Do I get called out to the uninteresting ones? See you soon.” Will said before hanging up. It was clear Will was already being stressed out by Jack, and he needed Hannibal there as a buffer.

True to his word, Jack and Will along with Beverly came squealing into the parking lot as Hannibal finished up his purchase, paying to have it all delivered. To his annoyance, Franklin did the same.

“Hi, Will!” Franklin said as soon as they pulled up, waving his hand much like how a small child would.

“Hiyah, Franklin. Gotta run, have a case.” Will called back as Hannibal tried to get into the vehicle as quickly as humanly possible, all while keeping his dignity intact to join Will in the back seat. Hannibal was pleased to note that Beverley was riding shotgun in front with Jack. “Text me about lunch.”

“Will do!” Franklin’s entire being lit up with joy.

“Isn’t that the guy from the Stammets case?” Jack asked upon recognizing Franklin when he was still Hannibal’s patient.

“It is.” Beverly turned around, ready to interrogate Will about it.

“Just drive please.” Hannibal sighed, considering killing Franklin. The problem was that he was annoying and obsessive, but that was about it. Frankly speaking, Franklin was just too pathetic in Hannibal’s mind. It would be like going entirely out of one’s way to end a solitary ant’s life, and Hannibal certainly didn’t want to eat Franklin or elevate him into art. That, and the most part, Franklin was a polite, unremarkable individual with high levels of anxiety and self loathing. He didn’t merit the Ripper’s full attention.

Hannibal didn’t get to dwell on the Franklin issue for long, Jack soon pulling into a very familiar place, the Baltimore Metropolitan Orchestra. Someone was going to end up on his table if one of his favorite musicians or conductors were dead.

Thankfully though, it just turned out only to be a mediocre trombone player. The musician’s loss of life was truly the orchestra’s gain.

Garish was the first thought that sprang to Hannibal’s mind. There was definitely skill and intent there, but the execution was lacking, Hannibal decided as he studied the man made into a cello, the neck of the instrument protruding out of the man’s throat.

“The victim is Douglas Wilson, a member of the Baltimore Metropolitan Orchestra’s brass section- a trombone player. He was killed shortly after his last performance. Blunt force trauma to the back of the head.” Jack said as he watched Hannibal and Will slowly circle around the cello corpse.

“His killer brought him here to…put on a show.” Will was already deep in thought. Hannibal had no doubts within him that Will, like himself, had a pretty clear picture about who the killer was.

“Will, is it me, or is it becoming easier for you to look?” Jack asked, his tone prickly enough to make even Beverly pause in her examination of the bow string.

“I tell myself…it’s purely an intellectual exercise.” Will said as he looked over at Jack, hiding his confusion behind diplomacy.

“Well, in the narrow view of forensics, that’s exactly what it is.” Jack said, his tone patronizing.

“They’re not any easier, Jack.” Will said quietly, doing his best to keep his temper in check.

“Shake it off. Get to work. We’ll come back in when you’re ready for us.” Was Jack’s version of a pep talk.

“Do you know why Hannibal gets to stay?” Will said quietly, but kept his glaring eye contact steady. “He respects the process for what it is.”

“And I don’t?” Jack had the gall to say.

“No, you do not.” Hannibal said, “You know that Will can get you the Ripper, but you don’t understand how he can, and it scares you.”

“I’m not scared of Will.” Jack said angrily.

“Of the man? No, you’re not. You know Will is deep down a good person. It is his abilities you fear, and the possibility that they might overwhelm him. You care more about catching the Ripper than keeping Will’s psyche intact, and that scares you as well. Because of your fear, you doubt Will’s gift. Because of your lack of understanding, you question it.” Hannibal said in an almost casual tone as if he were merely commenting on the weather. Beverly’s eyes were wide with shock, and Jack was fuming by the time he was done.

“Why would Will be overwhelmed by some intellectual exercises?” Backpedaling was not Jack’s strong suit.

“How many times do I have to explain it to you? I can empathize with ANYONE!” Will shouting the last word, getting everyone’s attention. It echoed beautifully in the orchestra’s space. “That includes any and all of the killer’s victims, their fears, their pain, their confusion, their unanswered prayers and questions of ‘why me?’, and it doesn’t just go away. It all gets locked in my head so that I remember everything, every single goddamn bloody, pain soaked detail, which is manageable while I’m awake. You know what has full access to all the crap I have in my head? My subconscious. I get to relive all of it from both perspectives on a fairly regular basis, and for whatever reason, you can’t seem to grasp that.”

The tirade left Will panting and shaking with anger. “So no, you don’t get to stay. Leave, or you can solve this one and all the rest by yourself.”

“Jack,” Hannibal spoke before the stunned man had a chance to, “If you want Will’s help, I think it would be best if you remain quiet and leave before he does.”

“Oh do you.” Jack shot back.

“You’re already pushing someone who is toeing the edge. If you push too hard, they may take you over it with them.” Hannibal warned.

“Fine.” Jack said, clearly seething, “But we’re going to talk about this later.”

“No, we’re not. You can fire me, or I’ll quit. I really don’t care which comes first.” Will told the man dismissing him by giving his full attention back to their victim.

“I’ll walk you to the door.” Hannibal herded Jack in the direction he needed to go.

“I’m curious about what answer you wanted from Will.” Hannibal couldn’t resist twisting the proverbial knife.

“The one that gets me the Chesapeake Ripper.” Was Jack’s beloved answer.

“The way you are going about it will make your wish an impossibility.”

“You don’t think he’s capable?” Made Hannibal inwardly laugh.

“Will is more than capable. The problem is that you’re not in the right frame of mind to listen to him when he does. By the time you do, it will be far too late.” Hannibal promised.

“I’ll try to keep that in mind.” Jack lied, whether he knew it or not. He couldn’t say that the Ripper didn’t give him fair warning.

“Please do, and Jack,” Hannibal said

“What?” The agent snapped, Beverly talking advantage of her boss’s pause to scurry on ahead. Hannibal appreciated good survival skills.

“When you betray Will, you will lose him.” Hannibal said.

“I don’t plan on ever betraying Will.” Jack growled, turning on his heel to leave. Jack looked like he needed some air.

“Yet.” Hannibal said softly at Jack’s retreating form before shutting and locking the door behind him.

“You did well.” Hannibal told Will as he rejoined him.

“It was unprofessional.” Will grumbled out, sounding like he was more trying to convince himself than Hannibal.

“Yes, it was. Jack should know better.” Got a snort of barely suppressed amusement from Will.

“Better get to work.” Will sighed, cracking his neck before closing his eyes.

To Hannibal’s delighted surprise, Will began to reconstruct the crime scene out loud. “I open his throat from the outside to access the trachea and expose the vocal chords. I open his throat from the inside using the neck of the cello. Powder on the wound. Rosin from the bow. I wanted to play him. I wanted to create a sound.”

Will began to sway, his arms moving as if they were playing an instrument, presumably a cello. “My sound. This…is my design.”

This went on for a moment, Hannibal wondering what Will could be playing, how it would sound, and if it could be recreated in the real world.

“It’s Tobias.” Will sighed after his performance was over.

“Well, obviously.” Hannibal said, getting a strained look from Will. He was beginning to get stressed out about something, smelling sour sweet with tension and fear. “Who is he playing for?”

“You, obviously.” Will said with a tense laugh.

“We’ve only met just the once.” Hannibal wasn’t following, and was beginning to get irritated that he wasn’t. Will had made this glorious leap somewhere.

“He knows.” Will said without a hint of doubt.

“That’s impossible.” Hannibal scoffed.

“Why? Because you’re so infallible? I’m sure Miriam Lass and myself would disagree.” Will shot back as he began to circle the corpse again. “I’m telling you flat out that he knows. I don’t know how he knows, but he does.”

“That is unfortunate.” Hannibal admitted, surveying his memory palace for possibilities. If Will said he knew, Tobias somehow knew.

“It has be something to do with the latest sounder since you’ve only just met him once. I knew something was off about that guy.” Will’s face looked pained.

“Do you know what he wants?” Hannibal asked.

“You’re attention.”

“It’s a serenade.”

“No.” Will waved that notion off, “This isn’t how he kills. Normally, he doesn’t kill for an audience. He prefers to be in the audience.”

“And you believe he risked getting caught to serenade me.”

“I believe he wants to show you how well he plays.” Will said, “Shit! This is bad.”

“Why? It’s an easy problem to fix.”

“Kill him before he kills you? Yeah, great. Easy peasy except you don’t know what he knows about what, what kind of information he’s gathered. You don't know if he’s set up any kind of insurance policy in the event of a sudden violent or inexplainable demise. Tobias is meticulous and skilled. This wasn’t random.” Will said, pointing over to the corpse mimicking Hannibal’s own style.

“We have to find out what he knows, and if he’s planning on using that knowledge to his advantage.”

“All while investigating him for murder which puts both of us in danger.” Will sighed, “Oh for fuck’s sake, you’re loving this!”

“I do enjoy a challenge.”

Chapter Text

“Among the first instruments were flutes carved from human bone.” Because, of course, Hannibal would know that. They were all back at the lab, the team studying their latest body.

“This murder was a performance.” Will said, choosing to sit off to the side a bit. He could already relive every gory detail from where he sat, Tobias’s victim being played on a loop. Hannibal joined the team for the dissection. Nothing like a front row seat, Will supposed.

“Played him like a fiddle.” Zeller said, the team clearly impressed and intrigued by what they were finding.

“Along with rosin powder, we found sodium carbonate, sulphur dioxide, lye, and olive oil in the room.” Beverly informed them.

“What’s the deal with the olive oil?” Zeller asked, making an incredulous face.

“Sure wasn’t making salad.” Price said.

“Whatever sound he was trying to produce, it was an authentic one. Olive oil hasn’t been used in the production of catgut for over a century.” Hannibal ingratiated himself further into the team, “It was said to increase the life of the strings and create a sweeter, more melodic sound.”

“No, he wasn’t going for that.” Will sighed, rubbing his temples. The meat music was filling his head to the point it was almost defeating.

“How do you know?” Zeller asked in disbelief.

“I can still hear it playing behind my eyes when I close them.” Will informed them all, ignoring the subtle exchange of looks between them all. He really didn’t have enough energy left to care.

“Every life is a piece of music.” Hannibal said, “Like music, we are finite events, unique arrangements, sometimes harmonious, sometimes dissonant.”

“Sometimes not worth hearing again.” Will grumbled, seeing a migraine emerging on his mental horizon.

“Our killer is a poet and psychopath.” Hannibal said.

“And a craftsman. He was shrinking and tanning the vocal chords.” Will said.

“Like turning iron wire into musical steel string.” Price said, “Well, that’s clever.”

“And he’s a perfectionist. He took the time to whiten the chords before playing them.” Zeller dared to add.

“It’s not about whitening them.” Will waved the notion off, much to Zeller’s open annoyance. “It’s about, um, increasing elasticity.”

“He treated the vocal chords the same way you treat catgut strings.” Beverly said before noticing Zeller and Price staring over at her in amusement. “Yes, I play the violin. Don’t make it weird.”

“Do you still play?” Hannibal asked, always determined to keep it weird.

“Yeah, it’s a stress reliever for me.” Beverly admitted, “I’m not on a professional level or anything like that. I just do it for fun.”

“Musical hobbies are excellent in that regard. I compose and play the harpsichord and the theremin myself.” Making the team look expectantly over at Will.

“I can neither confirm or deny.” Will shrugged, “And I don’t play any instruments.”

“I will have to remedy that.” Hannibal decided.

“Which part?” Beverly was definitely invested.

“Ahem, this takes a steady hand. A confidence. He’s killed before.” Will got back to the matter at hand before the entire team could put in their two cents about it.

“Like this?” Price asked.

“No, not like this.” Will sighed, wondering just how many people’s intestines were currently making music all over the city and beyond. Tobias’s shop was a speciality shop for a dying traditional art so he would shipping his unique “products” all over the world.

“He removed anything non-muscular or fatty from around the vocal folds. The chords themselves were treated with a sulfur dioxide solution.” Zeller said.

“The sulfur dioxide had the desired effect of hardening the vocal chords.” Hannibal nodded, “It’s ingenious work.”

“Made them easier to play.” Will said, the music in his head coming to a painful crescendo. “Had to open you up to get a decent sound out of you.”

Will only realized he had said that last part aloud by the various looks from the team. It ranged from startled and amused to alarmed. Will rubbed his face with his hands in embarrassment.

“If you pick it up and can’t play it, he’ll put you down and play you.” Beverly diffused the sudden tension, clearly in the amused category.

“I think we’ve gotten everything we need for right now.” Hannibal intervened as well, going over to Will to study him intently.

Will did not look well, having gone suddenly pale. It seemed hard for him to keep his eyes open for too long, and his hands were shaking. “Time to go home, and replace that music in your head. Do you have a headache?”

“Yes.” Will said quietly, his cheek reddening from the sudden shift in attention. The scarlet deepened when Hannibal removed his pocket square to make it into a blindfold, placing it gently around Will’s head and over his eyes. Will realized that he hadn’t noticed how the stark light of the lab was making the sharp ache in his head and neck worse, or how nauseous he suddenly felt.

Hannibal led Will to a much quieter corner of the lab where no one was around them and there was only the ambient noises of coolers keeping the dead fresh. It shouldn’t have been as soothing as it was as Hannibal directed him to sit in a chair.

“Hold still. Listen to the sound of my voice.” Hannibal’s voice came from out the dark, softer that usual, his tone and accent curling smoothly like smoke and shadows.

Hannibal gently took Will’s hands into his own, taking turns between massaging them, and holding down certain pressure points within them. When he was satisfied, Hannibal moved onto the back of Will’s neck, focusing on the base of his skull, lingering over what felt like more pressure points again. Lastly, very gently, he massaged under Will’s eyes, and around his nose and mouth.

All the while, Hannibal sang something low and soothing in a language that Will was beginning to recognize as Lithuanian. He might not have been able to understand the words of it, but it held all the qualities of something you would sing to night frightened children within its notes.

The Chesapeake Ripper was singing a lullaby to him.

It was absurd enough to make Will laugh, but the noise that came of his throat sounded broken. The strangled noise of it set off something tumultuous in Will, tears beginning to stain the borrowed pocket square. Soaking through the buttery soft silk, twin streams coursed down his cheeks. Even worse, once started, Will found he was unable to stop himself. It was in the moment, the precipice moment where he should have gotten up and left, Will relieved the music in his head had stopped. His budding migraine was completely gone, Will deeply sighing out surprised relief.

Giving up and giving in, Will sagged forward so that his forehead rested on Hannibal’s shoulder. He loosely wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist, and let go.

Hannibal held him back as Will silently cried and trembled, all the while still crooning softly into his ear. They held onto each other as Will emptied his teacup.

Will’s body held a desired hollowness to it now, like all the nooks and crannies in his mind had been wiped out clean. He was empty and yet felt ready and ripe with potential as newly made honeycomb. What began to fill those newly freed up spaces was clarity and a rage Will had never experienced before. It wasn’t directed at himself, or even Hannibal, Will realized. He was a very certain type of anger at Tobias. How long had he been killing like he had? How many lives had his terrible talented hands taken? The remembered arrogance of Tobias made all the sense in the world now to Will, and it sparked something deep within him.

“What are you so angry about?” Hannibal’s question drew Will back to reality, suddenly remembering who was holding him.

“I must be a bouquet of scents right now.” Will chuckled roughly, exhausted but not in a way that hurt.

“You always are, though I would like to know if that anger is being directed at me.” Hannibal sounded more amused than overly concerned. Will noticed that he was still using Hannibal’s shoulder as a pillow and the rest of him as a weighted blanket. “What are you thinking about?”

“Tobias,” Will said, “I’m thinking if he wants to meet the Ripper so badly, he probably should.”

“That would be most unfortunate for Tobias.”

“Yeah, tragic.” Will snorted, coming more back to himself in a more physical sense. It held good to feel Hannibal’s silent laugh vibrate through him. Will also noticed he had made a real moist mess out of Hannibal’s coat and pocket square.

“Sorry.” Will said as he finally drew away indicating the glistening patch of tears and snot now on Hannibal’s coat. The pocket square was a wet silk rag being clutched to ruin in his own hands. At some point in time, it had come off, though Will had no memory of it.

“No need to apologize, but I would like that back.” Hannibal said, nodding down to the pocket square still in Will’s hands where it remained.

“Like this? Don’t you want me to wash it…dry clean it?” Will wasn’t exactly sure what one was suppose to do with pocket squares of Hannibal’s caliber. “Buy you a new one? This one has seen better days.”

“Not at all.” Hannibal said as he retrieved as evidence bag for Will to place it in.

“You’re gonna do something weird with it, aren’t you?”

“Define weird.”

“Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

Chapter Text

“Hannibal mentioned to me that Tobias has been saying some really dark things to you.”

“He did? I thought you weren’t allowed to?” Franklin said, looking nervously over at Hannibal as he quietly sipped his wine. He had insisting on crashing their lunch. After pointing out how rude it was to do so uninvited, Hannibal had been sworn to being polite to Franklin which equated to Hannibal not really saying much at all.

“I’m not your therapist anymore, and we had a casual conversation out in public.” Hannibal said, settling on being the sulking lion in the room.

“If you’re sure…” Franklin was going to start destroying his napkin at this rate. Under the table, Will poke Hannibal with his shoe.

“I am.”

“Well, Tobias said he wanted to cut someone’s throat and play it like a violin, and then, they found someone whose throat was cut and played like a violin.” Franklin said quickly, glancing between Will and Hannibal.

“Do you think Tobias killed that man at the symphony?” Will asked patiently, “There is no right or wrong answer. Just tell me what your gut, your inner survival instincts, are saying.”

“Yes, no, I don’t know. I-I…if I do, do I have to report it?” Franklin was definitely scared, timid and confused about what he should do.

“You can tell me, and I can decide that for you, if you’d like.” Will assured.

“What if I’m wrong?” Franklin asked.

“That’s my job to determine that and deal with the consequences.” Will soothed, “Franklin, what if you’re right?”

“I’ve always wrong.” Franklin said as he balled up his napkin.

“Hey, bud, we’ve talked about this.” Will reminded gently, “What don’t we do?”

“Speak poorly about ourself.” Franklin said, forgiving his napkin.

“Why do we not do that?”

“Because there are more than enough people in the world who will do it for free.”

“Exactly. At worst, I’ll do my job, and you might be right, and end up saving a ton of people. If you’re not, no harm, no foul. I have to interview Tobias anyway because he owns a music shop that specializes in strings. There are not too many of those in Baltimore.” Will said, “Of course, neither Hannibal or myself will even mention you or your concerns.”

“Why would he say something like that to me?” Franklin asked, tension beginning to seep out of his shoulders.

“Why do you think?” Hannibal said coolly, Will shooting him a glare of ‘can you not for once in your life?’.

“‘Cause he knows I’d tell you or Dr. Lecter.” And Franklin was right back to being stressed out and frightened. Will kicked Hannibal as quietly and hard as he could under the table.

“I think Hannibal is the more likely target in this scenario.” Will sighed.

“Oh no! I’ve put him in danger!”

“No, you have not. You’ve brought it to my attention in a timely manner, and I’m not going to let anything happen to Hannibal.” Will stated firmly, getting a look of utter devotion from Franklin and one of amusement from Hannibal. “Do you have any plans with Tobias soon, like in the next few days?”

“N-no. We have been a little out of touch lately.” Franklin said.

“Good, keep it that way until the investigation is over,” Will told him, “Just to be on the safe side.”

“What if he…you know?” Franklin asked nervously.

“Then I will personally put you into protective custody.”

“You will?!” Franklin looked more elated than concerned now.

“I will. You could prove to be instrumental for the entire investigation.” Will promised, leaving lunch for Franklin on a very odd yet high note for him. Will was amused by it. Hannibal was not.

Chordophone turned out to be a lovely little music shop tucked away in a sweetheart place in a normal whatever street of Americana. The area practically bled apple pie, baseball, and freedom.

They descended upon the place right before close. So, of course, the first thing Hannibal did was silence the doorbell with gloved hands, the leather of which was a rich buttery brown. Tobias was playing a violin from somewhere inside the house, its melody telling Will more about its creator than it probably intended to. He immediately went into action casing the place, memorizing where doors and windows were, locating the alarm system, noting its make and model.

“His kill room is here. Basement more than likely.” Will murmured when he returned to Hannibal after making a loop. He smiled and nodded, looking far too pleased with Will.

Hannibal did his own loop, starting to touch things. It was all minor adjustments, but there was a need there. Things had to be straightened and aligned.

“Tell me again about how you don’t have OCD.” Will mumbled under his breath, intentionally reaching over to misalign a pen by the register. Hannibal said nothing, but still moved it back. Before Will could move anything else, the music finished up its composition, and its creator soon joined them, more than likely to close up the shop rather than greet them.

“You’re Doctor Lecter, Franklin’s therapist. Good to see you again.” Yup, Tobias was entirely here for Hannibal, Will immediately feeling like a third wheel as he was breezed past.

“Former therapist. I closed down my practice to work solely for the FBI.” Hannibal said, tapping down some of Tobias’s enthusiasm. “Is it Tobias?”

“Yes.” He was now on uneven footing with him remembering Hannibal so completely from one chance encounter, and Hannibal barely bothering to remember his entire name. It was a delightfully subtle and effective maneuver.

“Your strings are all gut.” Hannibal said as he deliberately plucked a string of a cello.

“I also carry steel and polymer strings, if you prefer.” And there was definitely an unspoken question there, hidden between the words said aloud.

“I prefer gut.” Hannibal confirming that they were actually talking about murder, not music. “Harps strung with gut still make music after 2,000 years.” He said, plucking another string.

“I didn’t hear you ring the bell.” Tobias observed, let them both know that he had noticed.

“I didn’t want you to stop playing.” Hannibal said, pleasing Tobias. Will realized that at this rate, this was going to take forever to get to brass tacks. “Was it an original composition?”

Yes, obviously, Will thought uncharitably, lacking the the vim and vigor of passion and actual creativity. Tobias had played professionally at some point, and have gotten overlooked by someone important, at least important to him. If Will had to hazard a guess, Tobias had been passed up for first chair in the strings section of some orchestra.

“Something I’ve been writing. You compose?” Tobias said.

“I discover.” Made Will want to pinch the bridge of his nose because Hannibal woke up today to, yet again, choose being a pretentious fuck. “You can’t impose traditional sound on an instrument that is inherently freeform.”

“What instrument would that be?” Tobias asked.

“The theremin. It can generate any pitch throughout its range,” Hannibal said, making a significant pause, “Even those between conventional notes.”

“So can a violin.” Will added, reminding everyone in the room that he was still present, though it might have been a little too direct.

“Or a trombone.” Tobias confirmed all of Will’s non-existent suspicions.

“It seems we are all comfortable playing between conventional notes.” Hannibal said which made Tobias look over at Will as if to reevaluate him.

“Would it be safe to assume that neither of you are here as FBI agents?” Tobias asked.

“Nope.” Which wasn’t a lie in the slightest.

“So what brings you here looking for gut?”

“We’re here about his harpsichord.” Will said, nodding over at Hannibal.

“My harpsichord needs new strings. It’s making an awful noise.” Hannibal said, “I hear the symphony is looking for a new trombonist.”

“Altogether horrible what happened.” Tobias faked.

“Not altogether.” Hannibal, “It’s an unfortunate way to leave the symphony, but I can’t help thinking the orchestra will be better for it.”

“At least the brass section.” Tobias all but preened. Will wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.

“I apologize for being so blunt, Tobias, but I have to ask. Did you kill that trombonist.”

“Do you really have ask?” Tobias’s snide response made Will sigh.

“No, just changing the subject.” Hannibal said

“Franklin finally gave you my message.”

“In all fairness to him, Dr. Lecter had already closed his practice to consult full time for the FBI.” Will said, noting the look of revolution from Tobias as he defended Franklin.

“Good thing I know several someones who are in the FBI then.” Tobias was really putting the cart before the horse. He was clearly assuming that Will and Hannibal were a team of murderers, and that by working for the FBI, they were actively evading discovery and capture.

“They’re going to find you.” Will said

“Let them.” Tobias smiled, confident and completely unbothered.

“You want to get caught?” Hannibal was intrigued because why wouldn’t he be. Will hoped his own personal irritation didn’t overwhelm his patience.

“I want them to try, much how you are doing?” Tobias wasn’t wrong. It was a little pot, kettle. “They may investigate me because I own a string shop. They’ll send men to investigate, and I’ll kill them. Then, I’ll find Franklin, and kill him too. After all that, I will disappear.”

“Don’t kill Franklin.” Hannibal sighed, simultaneously annoyed and impressed that Will was right on the money about Franklin’s impending murder.

“I’ve been looking forward to it.” Tobias said the exactly wrong thing to say in Will’s presence. Something within him ground to a halt as Tobias continued. “Actually…I was going to kill you.”

“Of course you were. I’m lean. Lean animals yield the toughest gut.” Hannibal said, completely unbothered, but he was serving his purpose. “What stopped you from killing me? Or have you stopped?”

“I stopped after I followed you one night. Out of town. To a lonely road. To a bus yard.” Tobias began, focused on Hannibal, too focused.

“You’re reckless, Tobias.”

“I’m not going to tell anyone what I saw you do and do well.” Which was exactly what they wanted to hear, “So my recklessness doesn’t concern you.”

“It concerns me.” Will said from somewhere behind Tobias, the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked. “You won’t be drawing attention just to yourself.”

Tobias was in limbo between the frying pan and the fire. He just didn’t know it yet. Giving in to temptation, Tobias made the mistake of turning to face Will, giving Hannibal an opening. It was oddly satisfying to see someone else other than himself be drugged for once. Hannibal moved astonishingly quick and quiet, the content of the syringe already pressed into Tobias’s body before he even had time to react. Hannibal let him fall to the floor, the pair of them already in action. They closed curtains, locked windows and doors, and flipped the Open sign to Closed. The basement was quickly found, Hannibal doing all the heavy lifting. Though he had been picked up many times before by Hannibal, it was impressive to witness a fully grown man being hauled around like he weighed no more than a sack of flour.

Between the two of them, it was quick work to strip Tobias down to his skin, gag him, tie him to a support beam, and then, duct tape him into place.

“A little excessive.” Hannibal mused at their handiwork.

“We’re not taking any chances of him miraculously escaping.” Will said as he stole Tobias’s keys from the clothes pile. “C’mon, we’ve got to get going, make sure the neighbors see us leaving here.”

Hannibal was on top of that as soon as their feet hit the sidewalk, going right up to a neighbor to ask them about their wonderful garden. That they wished all their interviews were in such lovely neighborhoods, and yes, they were FBI and had just been talking to Tobias, oh, and had they seen that murder in the paper, and no, Tobias wasn’t a suspect, and would they mind terribly if he could get some clipping from their herb garden.

“I told you.” Hannibal said as soon as they were back in the privacy of the Bentley.

“Pray tell, told me what exactly?”

“That I hadn’t made a mistake.”

“Don’t look so smug. Being followed is a mistake. Just because it was by a fellow serial killer doesn’t make it any less of a mistake.”

They returned well after dark, each man coming from a different direction, making their own way there. Copies of Tobias’s keys had been made, so they just let themselves in through the back. Hannibal arrived first since he had more to do so he was able to greet Will when he opened the basement door, joining him back on the first floor. Hannibal was momentarily worried about Will who seemed to be having some sort of seizure or convulsions.

“What are you wearing?” Will managed to wheeze out. He was doing everything in his power not to laugh. “Is that a murder onesie? Seriously?”

Hannibal decided not to dignify that response with an answer, but it didn’t help that Will’s sudden mirth would re-emerge full force every time the suit squeaked. Will’s own outfit was the poor man’s version of the murder onesie, mechanic’s overalls with gloves, googles, mask, and a hairnet. All of which was very burnable and disposable in an instant. They were also non-squeaky.

Hannibal had already started in on Tobias who was very much awake, and sweating from pain. His throat had been opened from the outside, his vocal chords expertly severed. This time around, Will took his time looking through Tobias’s basement. His terrible song was back in full force as Will stared at large jars that were packed full of intestines. There were at least 30 different people down here, all awaiting to be made into tools for music.

And for what? Because Tobias’s musical talents had been overlooked or passed over? That he was bitter because no one was breaking down his door to hear his song? He could have kept killing like that for the rest of his life if he hadn’t sought out Hannibal’s attention, and Will’s own, for that matter.

“You wanted a friend.” Will told Tobias whose eye confirmed it, “You wanted someone who could understand you, who thinks like you do, and can see the world and the people in it in the way that you do.”

Though it was probably fresh hell to do so, Tobias nodded ever so slightly.

“Though you may not believe me, I know exactly how you feel.” Will said softly.

“I do as well, but I don’t want to be your friend.” Hannibal said.

“Neither do I. I am tired of your song playing behind my eyes.” Will told Tobias.

“Would you like to make it stop?” Hannibal smiled as he offered Will his scalpel.

In that moment, Will was standing on the edge of a knife. He could end this. He had his gun. He could shoot Hannibal in his ridiculous murder onesie. He could end Hannibal. This all could be all done and dusted.

Except…he would have to end Hannibal. If Will left him live, there would be no peace in sight, in any foreseeable future. They were the living embodiment of the tide, of push and pull. One could not exist without the other. One could not simply leave the other alone.

It was a ridiculous thought because they were just two people, but the thing that had ground to a halt in his head earlier started whirring and spinning again. Will look around and past the room, and saw the legion of victims fill the basement’s space. If they simply arrested Tobias, he would end up alive and well with Gideon at the place for the criminally insane. Tobias might even become famous in the odd way serial killers do. Chilton would pamper him so that he could sell books about Tobias. His fans would listen to his music and obsess over it. It would inspire them to create their own, and that was enough to make Will come to a very vital, life changing decision for everyone involved.

The jars had all been musicians once, silenced forever, their gifts stolen all because Tobias had decided that they were flawed, unworthy of their gifts. His victims, and anyone else who had loved them, deserved better than that.

“No, thank you. I’m not killing anyone, even Tobias, but you have fun.” Was all Will said before leaving the basement and Tobias to his fate. He did what he came here initially to do which was locate Tobias’s laptop and phone, meticulously getting rid of both. He then searched the house just in case. Will knew it he couldn’t find anything, it was a pretty safe bet that no one else would either.

Completing his tasks first, Will left the way he came in, locking up behind himself. In a dark side street a good ways away, he stripped down out his own murder suit, shoving everything in a backpack that had an immediate date with an incinerator. The copied key was chucked into a moving body of water.

Will had already cleaned up, showered, and was in bed by the time Hannibal returned. He did the same before climbing into bed with Will, looking sated in some ways and ravenous in others.

“Is he?” Will’s question was almost swallowed up by Hannibal’s hungry intense kiss. This close in the dark he could tell what Hannibal had in mind.

“Do you really need to ask?” Was the question nipped into Will’s skin.

“No.”

“I want you.” Hannibal said, heat and intent behind every word.

“You can have me.” Will said as he parted his thighs. After all, to the victor goes the spoils.

It wasn’t as painful as Will expected it to be for his first time. Or maybe Hannibal just didn’t want it to be. It was different and unfamiliar, but at the same time, strangely good if one was into being held down by their wrists overhead while being thrusted into at a very languid pace. Apparently, and much to his own surprise, Will was, learning something new about himself. He came untouched, pinning in place by Hannibal’s eyes, hands, and cock. Hannibal’s gaze was unwavering, consuming the feast that lay beneath him.

Hannibal had impeccable self control even while doing this, fucking Will through his first orgasm, through the almost overwhelming painful sensitivity that came immediately afterward, and right back through the other side of pleasure. Near the very end is then that iron self control finally began to melt, Hannibal’s pace increasing, rapid fire words in foreign languages breaking the intensely held silence between them. When he could finally bear to separate them, Hannibal used his tongue to lave Will’s spend and sweat off of his stomach and anywhere else it had gotten to. He left his own inside Will.

“Are you satisfied?”

“Never.”

Chapter Text

It was bitterly cold from the salty wind whipping itself straight off of the ocean. The movement made the very air feel that it held knives within it as it savagely moved through and around the chilled living who studied the complex dead.

“Sometimes, I really hate this job.” Will sighed, looking rough in this bleak AM of grey. Though he slept more calmly in Hannibal’s bed, Will still suffered from night terrors, more so than usual after the ordeal with Tobias. This week had been practically bad. Hannibal theorized that it had to do with Will leaving Tobias in his very capable hands, some lingering guilt or doubt nagging his awake, keeping him up.

“Only sometimes?” Hannibal mused as he tilted his head a bit to take it all in. It wasn’t everyday that one got to see a totem pole made of corpses. They crossed the beach to join the rest of the team. “It is certainly imaginative.”

“World’s sickest jigsaw puzzle.” Zeller said as he paused between taking pictures.

“Yeah, but where are the corners?” Price asked as he studied the abomination before them, taking down details as well.

“What?”

“Mom always said, start a jigsaw with the corners.”

“Uh, the heads are the corners, I guess?”

“We’ve got too many corners.” Beverly noted with a sigh, “Seven graves. Way too many heads.”

“The headpiece appears to be the only recent victim. The others are years, even decades, old.” Hannibal said as he strolled around the structure. It was impressive, though his own totem pole would be far more immense. It would easily dwarf this one several times over.

“We know that seven of the bodies were buried out here.” Jack said as he joined them.

“No shit? You mean that’s why there are seven open graves around it?” Will muttered under his breath, loud enough for Hannibal to hear. “Whoever dug them up knew exactly where they were buried.” He said in far more normal tones.

“I guess it wasn’t enough for him to kill them once,” Jack said, giving his usual lack of insight, “He had to come back and defile his victims.”

“These graves weren’t desecrated, Jack.” Will sounded as tired as he looked. “They were exposed. Huge difference.”

“This place is only sacred to our killer, Jack.” Hannibal clarified when it became apparent that Will had no intention to do so. “This is not blessed soil, and these victims were not their given last rites by anyone of their particular faith. These people were stolen, hidden away. Our killer is revealing them. What we have here is the stolen lost being found.”

“Only because he wanted them to be.” Will grumbled.

“Ok, everybody, let’s go! Let’s clear the scene!” Jack yelled, clapping his hands. He left as well without the usual fuss, but still managed to give Will a pointed look for the back talk. Hannibal was amused to see that the recipient of Jack’s offended ire was too far beyond caring to notice.

Will didn’t want to do this, even more so than usual. Hannibal wondered if it was because the crime scene was a large open space. While Jack and the others were away from them, they were still present enough to make Will feel self-conscious about his ever growing, evolving abilities.

“Focus on me. I’m the only one here that matters.” Hannibal said.

“Of course you are.” Will said with an eye roll. He did that a lot with Hannibal who chose to ignore it. His words worked though, he was pleased to note, Will visibly relaxing.

After taking few moments to breathe, Will began, the change upon his being noticeable. His posture and the cadence of his walk entirely changed. His posture and stride held a casual confidence within them that was not there before. Hannibal followed after Will, keeping a close eye on him. The more cases Will got involved in, the greater he was experiencing his empathy, to the point that he started to go through the actual physical motions of the murder. It was fascinating to behold and even more so to study.

“I planned this moment,” Will talking aloud now through his recreations was something becoming consistently new as well. “This monument with precision. Collected all my raw materials.”

Kneeling down on the sand, Will continued, going through the motions of building. “I position the bodies carefully, according to their rightful place. Peace in the pieces disassembled.”

Pausing, Will looked over that something or someone who wasn’t there in that space anymore. “My latest victim, I save for last. I want him to watch me work. I want him to know my design. This is my resume. This is my body of work. This is my legacy.”

And with that, Will snapped out of whatever he was experiencing. “I need to sit down.” Will rasped out, looking grey around his edges as the sea that lay before them. Falling back onto his behind to put his legs out in front of him, Will did just that, ignoring the moisture seeping into his jeans from the cold damp sand. Sitting like a puppet whose strings had just been cut, he stared blankly off into the distance, as if the churning water was going to give him some inner insight. Will didn’t respond or acknowledge anyone as the others ran over to them, peppering their incoming steps with questions.

“What’s wrong with him?” Jack asked, brow furrowed as he studied Will.

“He’s dissociating.” Hannibal announced loud enough for all the team to hear. He wasn’t about to pass up this golden opportunity to put Jack on the spot, make him suffer. “It’s a desperate survival mechanism for a psyche that endures repeated abuse.”

“He’s not abused.” Jack growled, going immediately on the defensive, which was just what Hannibal wanted.

“Will has an empathy disorder. What he’s feeling is overwhelming him.” Hannibal said with just enough fire and ice in his voice, something very befitting a worried lover while still remaining professional. “Yet you and him chose to ignore it. That’s the abuse I’m referring to.”

“You want him to quit!” Jack yelled, not even bothering to make it a question.

“And you want him to continue, despite everything it’s doing to him.” Hannibal said far more calmly, ready to go more in on the agent. They were interrupted by Will reaching over to tug gently at Hannibal’s pant leg.

“You don’t speak for me.” Will said quietly to Hannibal and to Jack, he said, “And neither do you. I’m not quitting. I save lives, and that feels good.”

“Does it?” Hannibal asked.

“Generally speaking.” Will shrugged.

“What about your life?” Hannibal asked, genuinely curious while still building towards his goals.

“What about it?”

“I don’t care about the lives you save.” Which was true, “I care about your life.” Which was also astonishingly true, or at least, it was astonishing to Hannibal. How refreshingly odd it was to experience all these strange new depths of love.

Will stared off into the distance again, studying the ocean and the soft grey sky above it.

“It’s a totem pole of bodies. That’s a new one for me. You?” Will eventually asked him.

“Yes.”

“Damn, isn’t that something.” Will chuckled. Hannibal offered his hand to help Will up, pulling him easily to his feet.

“You okay?” Beverly asked, clearly concerned, concerned enough to risk Jack’s wrath. Hannibal appreciated her for seeing the true value in Will.

“Fit as a fiddle.” Will smiled, looking anything but healthy.

“What have you got?” Jack snapped, cutting short anymore coddling. Though they backed off, the team exchanged a round of looks between them. There was the lovely beginning of dissent in their ranks, a spark that he fully intended to fan. Hannibal decided that he would have to invite them all over for dinner one night to keep that spark alive so it would grow into wildfire.

“A whole lot of body piled up.” Will answered glibly, turning his weary attention back to Jack.

“In some cultures, crimes and guilt are made manifest so that everyone can see them and see their shame.” Zeller tried.

“Does that look like shame to you?” Will asked, arching a brow at Zeller.

“No, it isn’t shame. This is a celebration. He’s marking his achievements.” Hannibal said, already genuinely pleased with this day. He decided that an interesting killer, an unsettled team, and an angry Jack were an excellent way to start his morning.

“Oh goodie. Another serial killer who takes pride in his work.” Price grimaced, “I don’t suppose the Ripper can take care of this one for us too?”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” Hannibal told them. Or at least, he wouldn’t unless Will asked him to. There had been something so satisfying about Will knowing about a work in progress, witnessing its becoming from beginning to end.

Tobias had been transformed into a fine cello. The process had involved cutting off his legs at his groin and his arms to his pits to create the upper and lower bouts of the instrument…all while Tobias was kept alive, of course. Hannibal cauterized his wounds to keep the man from bleeding out, and used adrenaline to keep Tobias conscious so he could experience everything Hannibal had planned for him. Tobias was allowed to die only after his large and small intestines were slowly removed from a small incision at the base of his belly. Hannibal took his time pulling them out like a long ingrown hair.

One arm was kept to eat while the other was dissected for its parts. An ulna was transformed into a bow made of bone with some lengths of tendon for the string. The legs became the neck, Tobias’s torso the body of the cello. Tobias’s head was then removed so that his strapped together leg bones could be connected to his neck at its base, his toes representing the pegs. Hannibal left the meat and skin of them all around the human cello, looking as if the instrument had just violently emerged from a cocoon that had once been Tobias’s body.

The torso was given the same treatment, the bones revealed red, white, and wet, part of his radius becoming the endpin. The chest was emptied of its heart, lungs, and all the rest to be replaced by Tobias’s head, the curvature of the rib cage keeping it nicely in place. His bowels were used to create the strings.

His masterpiece was found the next day by some unfortunate officers who had been sent there to collect Tobias with Will. Hannibal had tagged along. He wanted to see Will’s reaction firsthand, feeling a combination of excitement and uncharacteristically impatient.

The officers ran out the basement, calling in the incident in between their cries of horror and gibbering. There was a stir of something undefinable within Hannibal as he witnessed Will’s own phone call.

“Jack, get down here. Bring the team. It’s the Ripper.” Was all Will said as he studied his present, his words a symphony unto themselves to Hannibal’s ears.

“What do you think?” Hannibal asked softly. The officers were not going to come back down anytime soon so they were alone with Tobias at the moment.

“I feel very…complicated about it.” Will said, his being giving nothing away about his inner workings. “I don’t think I did the right thing. I know I didn’t.”

“That’s subjective. He would have tried to kill us both,” Hannibal started to say to be waved off.

“I don’t need to hear a sales pitch about it.” Will sighed, “I don’t feel bad though. I don’t know how I feel, but it’s not bad. Like I said.”

“It’s complicated.”

Chapter Text

As soon as they got back to the lab, Jack ordered Will into his office.

“I need to speak to Will privately, Doctor Lecter.” Jack told Hannibal before he could begin to follow them.

“You may need to, but is that what Will wants?”

“It’s fine. Let’s just get this over with.” Will sighed. He didn’t want to live through another long, drawn out conversation between Jack and Hannibal going back and forth with one another. Will was also done with playing quiet witness.

“Very well.” Hannibal surprisingly conceded. Will almost asked him if he was feeling well.

“So…it’s a celebration.” Jack said as he took a seat behind his desk. Will chose to remain standing for various reasons, the main one being “I am not your friend; I will not share your table/space”.

“Yes.” Will wondered where this was going, “He’s marking his achievements.”

“And faced with this killer’s achievements, your mind needed to escape?” Jack was fishing for something, insight and understanding possibly, but Will doubted it, doubted the agent’s ability to find it and know it for what it was.

“Yeah, it did.” Will said to have Jack stare him down with a thoughtful look.

“I’m worried about you, Will. You empathize too completely with these killers.” Jack said, “But not feeling like yourself, that’s kinda what you supposed do, isn’t it?”

“Is this criticism or a compliment?” Will asked, wishing Jack would get to his point. It almost sounded like Jack was blaming him for using his “gift” so well, the one Will was using at Jack’s insistence. Hannibal’s too, but Jack started it first.

“Neither. It’s just an observation.” Because thank Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and all their carpenter friends! Jack was finally noticing something. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Will laughed and laughed at the ridiculous question. “Do I seem fine to you, Jack?” Will finally managed out, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. “Here’s an even better question-do you have anyone else who can do this any better than me unbroken?”

“Fear makes you rude, Will.”

“Whose? Yours or mine?” Will was out for blood now that he had a taste for it. “I’m here for Hannibal.” Which was true.

“Why?”

“Because he enjoys what he can contribute to the investigation.” Also true. “Frankly, I wouldn’t be here at all if it weren’t for Hannibal,” he admitted, full disclosure. Will was experiencing the perverse joy of being the man-behind-the-curtains. No wonder Hannibal practically lived in that state of being. It was intoxicating.

It made Jack only glared in answer so Will took that as a sign to leave.

“You still all in one piece?” Beverley asked upon him rejoining the group.

“Mostly. I think I gave as good as I got this time.” Will shrugged, embarrassed and an odd kind of little happy. It was strange feeling to experience someone having his back after being a loner with a target on his back for so long. “How many bodies?”

“We got 17 in total.” Zeller said, “I swear I pull something from wincing when you pick shit with Jack.”

“I dunno. I get a sudden urge for popcorn myself.” Price looked practically giddy about it. “We’ve started a betting pool.”

“Of when I’ll punch Jack?” Will hazarded a guess.

“It’s multitiered.” Beverly added shamelessly, “There’s also ‘quit or fired’ on the board.”

“There’s an entire board?” Hannibal asked, clearly amused.

“Yeah, it started out small, but then turned very ‘Cabin in the Woods’ explicit in detail.” Zeller grinned.

“Am I on it as well?” Hannibal surprised no one by inquiring about his placement on it.

“We’ve already said too much about it.” Price said, “Meet our freshest one, Joel Summers. Forty years old, runs a cell phone store in Knoxville, Tennessee…Or did. Been missing for three days.”

“Single stab wound to the heart. Other injuries were postmortem- broken bones, dislocated hips, shoulders.” Zeller added.

Will studied the dead man who got canceled before he had a chance to experience his first midlife crisis. “He was special to him somehow. He held a place of honor.”

“You won’t be surprised to hear that the seven bodies matched the earth found in the seven graves.” Hannibal reading through some report, “There doesn’t appear to be a noticeable pattern.”

“Blunt force trauma, stabbings, strangulations. All wrongful deaths.” Zeller rattled off.

“There are at least eight other bodies that are recent grave robberies frown all across West Virginia. No crime attributed to them.” Beverly adding in, making visions, concepts, ideas, and a single random thought move and mingle in Will’s head. He liked this part of it, getting everyone’s expert professional input all at once. It made Will feel like a desert being blessed with rain after so many long years of drought, the seeds in his mind bursting up through the surface in response to it.

“They’re all murders.” Was the answer given up by that sudden oasis, “Anthony Lamb, 28, fatal car accident. Francesca Bourdain, 42, suicide, pills, 1994. Adrian Packham, 60, massive coronary, 2001. Peter McGee, 25, carbon monoxide poisoning in his home, 2006, and seven as yet unidentified bodies buried at the beach.”

Will paced back and forth, pointing from victim to victim, feeling the influx of knowledge energize him. “Every death is different; made to look like something else. No sadism, no torture.”

“Interesting. It would appear that the method of these murders was less important to the killer than the simple fact that these people had to die.” Hannibal mused while looking so pleased about some inner working. Will refused to let it derail him.

“Exactly!” Will snapped his fingers at Hannibal like they were in his classroom. Rude? Perhaps, but he was on a roll here. “Joel Summers, killed with a single stab wound, presented with great ostentation atop a display of all the previous victims.”

“The killer gets off on remaining unnoticed.” Price said softly in thought.

“Yes, that’s what excites him.” Hannibal said.

“So, what? Our guy’s a ghost?” Zeller grumped. No one in the lab liked the sound of that.

“Until now.” Will thumbed their attention back to the very prominent picture of the totem pole.

The more important question here is,” Hannibal pointed out, “Why is he coming out into the light after so long?”

“Another one showing off for the Ripper?” Zeller mused.

“Yes and no. He’s definitely showing off, but more in a general sense. It feels like he wants to get caught.” Will put that notion to bed real quick. He didn’t want to think about Tobias anymore. “This is an older killer, alone and growing infirm.”

“A loner with no family to take care of him now that his body is beginning to fail him.” Hannibal reasoned out further.

“So, what? This is his final tour and he’s breaking out his greatest hits?” Zeller said.

“If we don’t find this guy, he’ll just disappear.” Beverly said, not happy about that notion.

“Which is something he has no desire to do.” Hannibal said, “He’ll be found in the evidence.”

“Love a good game of Hide-n-Seek.” Price smiled.

“I was more of a Red Rover fan.” Beverly said, “Sometimes, it was the only way to smack any sense into my brothers and sisters without getting into trouble.”

“The only real answer here is Tag.” Zeller “Dare I ask either of you?”

“I rarely enjoyed the company of other children as a child, preferring to be left to my own devices.” Hannibal said, “I read a lot.”

“Fishing, swimming, also lots of reading.” Will shrugged, “In the South or any small town, some of the only places with decent air conditioning or heating where a kid won’t get bothered for spending lots of time there are libraries.”

“You should write a country song about your life.” Price said.

“And leave all this?” Will gestured to the corpses. “What about your betting pool?”

“Good point. Let’s not be to hasty here.” Price gasped at his own folly.

“Yeah, you can’t take off before I win.” Zeller said, looking way too confident for his own good.

“Which camp are you in? Quitting or getting fired?” Will had to ask.

“Who says those are the only two options?” Zeller smirked.

“Just don’t tell Freddy Lounds about it.” Will said casually, making the others laugh. He watched as Zeller paled a bit from the jab.

Secrets could be fun after all.

Chapter Text

They were all back in Jack’s office soon enough, but were now joined by Alana.

“So you went to see Abigail Hobbs recently.” Jack directed this at Will though it had been a joint effect between himself and Hannibal a day ago.

“Well, yeah. She contacted us because Abigail is considering writing a book with Freddie Lounds.” Will grumped back, “She wanted us to be in it.”

“We declined.” Which was a severe understatement on Hannibal’s part. They, mostly Will, had put a very certain fear back into Abigail about it. “What is this all about, Jack?”

“Nicholas Boyle is still missing.” Jack said with such gravitas like the statement was supposed to hold weight, but it only made the trio exchange questioning glances.

“Okay?” Will voiced this first. As far as he was concerned, Nicholas Boyle could and would remain missing. Hannibal and himself had made sure of that. The lye placed over his various, widely spread body parts would do the rest.

“Abigail has nightmares about Nicholas Boyle.” Alana offered up.

“I’m curious about why.” Jack said, impressing no one.

“His assault and attempting her bodily harm might be an excellent place to start.” Hannibal said dryly.

“Or of him threatening her and accusing her of his sister’s murder in public might be another, one that was soon after the traumatic deaths of both her parents.” Alana added, just as flat.

“Why the sudden focus on Abigail?” Will asked, not liking where this was going.

“I think Abigail Hobbs is the common denomination between her father, Marissa Schuur, and Nicholas Boyle. This all goes back to Abigail. My instincts are telling me that Abigail has the answers that we have not heard.” Jack told the Chesapeake Ripper and the guy who’d found him. Jack was about as keen as a baked potato when it came to the truly deranged.

“What are questions, Jack? Everyone in this room, including yourself, has questioned her.” Will pointed out, “What are you trying to say? That four people who are experts in their fields can’t crack a traumatized teenage girl who hasn’t even graduated high school?”

“Let’s start with where she goes when she climbs the walls of the psychiatric facility. Maybe she’s meeting Nicholas Boyle. None of us know what was going on between them.” Jack proposed to cricket noises.

“This is a waste of time.” Will sighed, getting up to head toward the door.

“I want to go on record as well that this is pointless.” Alana snapped, leaving as well. “Hannibal?”

“Jack has the look of a man with no interest in anyone’s opinion other than his own.” Which was a really long pompous way of saying that he agreed with the both of them, at least in Will’s opinion.

“I have her here to interview again.” Was what made the trio pause in their escape.

“Why wasn’t I informed? As her therapist, you should have come to me first about it.” Alana turned on him, fury creeping into her usually controlled tone.

“I’m informing you now.” Was almost enough to make someone a lucky winner of the lab’s betting pool.

“Abigail is too fragile for this sort of treatment. You can’t manhandle an imaginary answer you want out of her just because you suspect she not being forthcoming.” Alana was impressive when she was pissed. Will settled in to watch the show.

“I counting on that, and I can.” Jack “Doctor Bloom, you may join me as a courtesy. I suggest you don’t test me, or you’ll have to leave.” Which meant leaving Abigail alone with Jack. Alana squared her jaw, gritting her back teeth, but remained quiet, managing out a curt nod.

This wasn’t over by any means of the imagination if the fire in Alana’s eyes were anything to go by. Will almost felt sorry for Jack.

“Will, I’d like you and Hannibal to observe.” Jack said as they made their way to the interrogation room. Will and Hannibal stayed behind the dark glass, watching as the other pair entered the room. Abigail sat there, trying to look more bored than scared. It was turning out to be a fine balance of both.

“Where do you go when you escape from the hospital, Abigail?” Jack asked once they were all seated.

“Sometime, into the city. Other times, into the woods. Sometime, just out.” Abigail said, giving a half shrug, “I go get away from…what my life has become, to be alone where I can think…breathe. Pretend to be normal.”

She crossed her arms to hold herself. It made Abigail appear more vulnerable. It had an effect on both Alana and Jack, though opposite in nature for either. Jack was ready to strike while Alana was set to defend.

“Do you ever meet with Nicholas Boyle on one of your little getaways from the hospital?” Jack asked. He received a pure expression only a teenager could manage. It was a three-way tie between “what is wrong with you?” and “why would you even ask that?” and “how fucking stupid are you?”.

“No.” Abigail kept it short and sweet.

“Did the two of you know each other before the night he attacked you?” Which should have been Jack’s opening question, but here they were now.

“No.” If Abigail’s tone and expression were anything to go by, she thought Jack was an idiot as well. An idiot that she needed to fear and be wary of, but still an idiot.

“Did he know your father?” Jack asked.

“No.”

“And you know nothing about why he’s still missing?” Jack pressed.

“I know he tried to kill me, and Doctor Bloom, and Doctor Lecter.” Abigail said, sounding tired and fed up. “And when he was trying to kill me, all I could think was that I was gonna die in that house after all.”

Jack was prompted into silence so Abigail took her chance to keep going. “But I didn’t. I survived. Doctor Bloom and Doctor Lecter saved my life. They saved me from him.”

“And have you seen him since?” Jack was not a happy man.

“Only in my nightmares. Are we done here?”

“I’ll tell you when we’re done.”

“You may not like me, but I’m not my father. I want my lawyer.” Abigail said, “I’m not answering anymore of your questions.”

“He’s already on his way.” Alana said, smiling over at Jack who allowed Abigail to leave. Will and Hannibal joined them.

“You all believe her?” Jack asked as he continued to glare at Alana.

“Yes.” Hannibal said.

“Yup.” Will added.

“I think Abigail Hobbs is damaged. There is something she’s using every ounce of that strength to keep buried, but it’s not about Nicholas Hobbs, Jack!” Alana was not pleased.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because any reservation I have about Abigail doesn’t extend to Hannibal. He has no reason to lie about any of this!” Gaslighting was a beautiful thing, Will managing to keep it together. He didn’t want to ruin Alana’s moment by giggling. “And the same goes for Will. What is the point of subjecting us to all this if you have no intention of listening to any of us?!”

“I’m curious about that myself.” Hannibal certainly knew when to stoke a fire. “Jack, the Minnesota Shrike is dead, taking all the answers you want with him. You can’t keep punishing the daughter for the sins of the father. Abigail was Garrett Jacob Hobbs victim as well.”

“If you go over my head or ambush Abigail, I’ll report you for misconduct, and I won’t be holding back when I do.” Alana said, “There are people in the FBI who’ll actually listen to me.”

“And if they don’t, they’ll listen to me”. Will said, earning a surprised look from Jack. “I’m sick of you wasting my time with this. I have a killer to catch, or did you forget about the entire totem pole of bodies?”

“Anything else to add?” Jack wanted to lash out at someone. Unfortunately for him, he chose Hannibal for this.

“I could certainly mention this incident to Gerald over dinner next week.” Hannibal said, smooth as glass, “But I find office politics a rather gauche topic for sparkling dinner conversation.”

“Gerald, as in the head of the FBI Gerald?” Will asked to receive a cat smile full of canary. “How?”

“Charming man. I ran into him at Quantico a while ago, and we had a lovely chat. He’s been calling me on and off ever since I diagnosed a somewhat rare heart condition the poor man was completely unaware of. He’s very fortunate that a polite conversation saved his life and start a new friendship.” Because of course he did. Sometime, Will really felt like the universe took a perverse joy in screwing with his life. “I simply had to invite him over for dinner. I’ve told him so much about Will, but I have yet to mention you, Jack.”

“I think we’re done here.” Alana told Jack, Will and Hannibal following her out.

Chapter Text

“We are her fathers now. We have to serve her better than Garrett Jacob Hobbs.” Was about all the prelude Will got before he found out that he was having dinner with both Abigail and Freddie-fucking-Lounds. They were in the kitchen where Hannibal was fixing a salad of all things. Will was plowing through a remarkably good bottle of red with great determination. The details of how things like this came to be were lost to Will in his current state.

“Again with this? Abigail is a liability.” Will snapped.

“She’s stronger than you think.” Hannibal admonished, unperturbed by the events he had set into motion because why the fuck not. Everyone knew how emotionally stable teenagers were, especially ones who were just horrifically lost both their parents, and oh yeah, daddy dearest had been a serial killer. What could possibly go wrong?

“You feel guilty about her parents? Great! Congratulations on having a normal human emotion for once in your life! This is a bad idea.” Will said, fuming into his wine.

“We’re just having dinner with someone who wants to help Abigail.”

“That remains to be seen.” Will said, making Hannibal wince by chugging what was left of the wine.

“That was a 1949 Domaine Leroy Richebourge Grand Cru.” Hannibal said, “They only make about 700 bottles of that a year.”

“Hah! Good! Serves you right for putting out expensive wine.” Will said before pausing long enough to study the aged label. “It’s really expensive, isn’t it?”

“If you consider $6,000 dollars really expensive, then yes, it is.” Hannibal said with a twinkle in his eye as he watched Will deflate.

“I hate you.” Will muttered, going back to sipping the wine like any higher power intended.

“I know.” Hannibal said, kissing the side of Will’s head. The salad was complete so now it was time for fun and games with Will’s least two favorite people.

“I feel terrible, Miss Lounds. Never entered my head you might be a vegetarian.” Hannibal said as he placed the plate before Lounds. “A lapse on my behalf.”

“Research always delivers benefits.” Was Lounds’s smart, and not so smart, reply.

“If it contradicts a good story, hell, publish it anyway.” Will got to her first, the wine and discontent goading him on.

“Are you still angry I called you insane?” Lounds said as she set down her silverware to precisely hone in on him. “The libel laws are clear, Mr. Graham.”

“Insinuation is such a grey area.” Will shot back. The exchange made Abigail look uncomfortable and Hannibal intrigued. He loved a show with dinner.

“Insinuation isn’t really black or white, is it? We’re all pathological in our own ways.”

“Yes, but the difference is that I don’t publish my insinuations about you on a public forum. You also tend to choose the version of the truth that suits you best,” Will said, “And pursue it. Pathologically.”

“Everyone decides their own versions of the truth. I’m here because I want to tell Abigail’s version of the truth.” Lounds tried to get this exchange back on a different track.

“See that you do.” Will said, definitely a threat lingering in the bones of that sentence. “Apparently, you get off on being sued, and I’m not here to kink shame.”

“What you can do is dangerous.” Lounds said, finally dropping any facade of being civil.

“So what?!” Will scoffed, “I can think like anyone, not just killers.”

“Even me?”

“Even you.” Will said, immediately regretting it. “No. Don’t ask. You won’t like it. No one does.”

“You don’t get off that easily. Tell me something. Anything.” Lounds challenged, arching a brow at him.

“Think you can handle it?” Had Will been sober, he would have gotten up and left. As he was at the moment, Will just leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared Lounds down like they were two Wild West gunslingers arguing over who cheated at cards.

“Only one way to find out.” Lounds wasn’t backing down an inch so Will decided to unload full barrels on her.

“You were a loner in high school. Yes, you had alliances, but no real friends. That was by choice in the later years, still is today. Someone you once trusted betrayed you, someone you viewed as family, but who wasn’t blood, someone you thought of as your best friend or kid. You never forgave them for that, or really trusted anyone afterward. You weren’t popular, but you weren’t bullied either. You made sure of that. You learned the power of the written word and whispering a secret into the right ear early on. Not athletic enough for cheerleading, not interested enough in theater, especially when you were so good at creating your own drama, you were a fringe kid, an outsider. You noticed things too quickly, more quickly than your peers. Then and now, you want, more than anything, above all else, is to be noticed. How am I doing?”

“Keep going.” Lounds was beginning to get unsettled, but was doing an excellent job of hiding it. Anyone else would have been fooled by her bravado.

“The world can burn as long as you get recognition from your peers and a parking spot with your name on it.” You don’t just want to be famous. That’s not the end game for you. You want to be truly seen for what you bring to the table. More than anything, you want to be respected, especially when it comes down to your work.” Will said, “You don’t necessarily understand the killers you write about. You don’t have to. All you want and need is your career, it what defines you. Everything else, including the people in your life, comes secondary. Always have, always will be now.”

“Anything else?” Lounds said tightly.

“You’re a lesbian.” Will smiled as he watched Lounds’s reaction, controlled as it was. “You play for any team to get what you want because it’s just sex, but your heart lies with the ladies. You’re also a vegetarian because you were made to clean the Thanksgiving bird one year in your preteens, and you lost your taste for meat all together from that one experience.”

“How the fuck do you know any of that?” It was such a thrill and joy for Will to see Lounds so damn unsettled.

“Told you. No one likes it.” Will shrugged, “No one gets to keep their secrets with me, not even the people I love. That’s my burden to bear in life. Always has been. Will be until the day I die.” Will said, “Do you get it now, or should I keep going? You want me to talk about your parents, or more accurately, the lack their presence or approval in your life?”

“No.” Lounds said quickly, taking a moment to regroup to fake some calm. “No. You’re made your point.”

“Oh c’mon, this is fun. I can do Abigail next.” Will smiled lazily as the teenager paled.

“Is this how you catch killers? Dissect people in your head?” Abigail said tightly.

“If I want to. I usually don’t, want to, that is. Bad luck that I’m the best, or so I’ve been told.” Will shrugged, leaving off the verbal evisceration. “It’s painful for me.”

“How?” Abigail asked.

“I can’t forget. Eidetic memory.” Will said as he tapped the side of his head. “Anything I work out from someone else gets stored up here, and believe you me, most of it isn’t pretty.”

“How are you not insane?” Lounds was looking at him differently now. The distain was practically all gone, but it had been replaced with a hungry open curiosity.

“According to you, I am.” Will pointed out, “Did you now I used to be a cop?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know why I stopped being a cop?”

“You got injured on the job, but I don’t know the particulars of why I you quit.”

“I find research always delivers benefits.” Will grinned in the face of Lounds’s annoyed look, “Yeah, I got stabbed. I couldn’t pull the trigger on someone trying to end my own life because of my empathy. So now, I teach because I can help others do what I can’t and save lives. Teach them to know where and how to look. I occasionally consult on the…interesting ones.”

“Any cases I would know?”

“Probably all of them. The Doll Maker, the Harlequin’s Kiss, the Lovers, and Mr. Nobody just to name a few.” The name dropping made Lounds’s face light up from within.

“Why are you currently in the field if it’s so bad for you then?” Lounds was fishing for something.

“Jack wants me to catch the Chesapeake Killer. I get to go back to my peace of sorts and my classroom after I do.” Will lied at the end. He would never know peace in this life again.

“You could always quit.” Abigail pointed out.

“You’ve met Jack.” Will scoffed.

“So get a restraining order and then quit.” Lounds said, warming up to the idea definitely for her own personal reasons.

“And do what?” Will asked, though he already had an idea of what she was about to say.

“Help me write a series of books. After I help Abigail, of course.” Lounds had utterly no shame.

“Holy hell, you’ve got some brass balls.” Will whistled between his teeth like his daddy had once done when he was blown away by something.

“So I’ve been told. That’s not a no.”

Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was his damn empathy. Yeah, when Lounds looked at him, she saw fame and money tacked over his head like a halo, but at the very least, Lounds was blatant about it. She didn’t try to dress up her desires as something for the greater good or a higher calling or a guilt trip. In that aspect, Freddie Lounds was better than most people. Christ, what was the world coming to.

“I tell you what.” Will drawled out, because the odds of what he was about to say were so unlikely. “If I get fired from the FBI, I’ll consider it. Don’t take that as a yes by any means of the imagination, and if anyone asks me about it, I’ll deny it.”

“I won’t tell anything you don’t want me to.” Lounds tried to sweeten the pot.

“Let’s see how you do with Abigail on that.” Will shot back.

“I don’t have anything to hide.” Abigail said, making Will wish he could reach across the table to smack Abigail upside her damn head.

“Everyone has something to hide.” In a sense, Freddie beat Will to it. Her words held a “the grownups are talking” vibe to it.

“You must understand our concerns. We care about Abigail.” The bastard butcher of Baltimore decided to rejoin the conversation now that the entertainment had fizzled out. He didn’t react to be kicked under the table, not that Will was expecting him to. “Our only thoughts are to protect her.”

“She’s already exposed. Her silence until now has been taken as guilt. This book is about her innocence. I want Abigail to have a future, and she can only do that with money and positive public perception.”

“Fine. Go for broke, but leave us out of it.” Will said as he helped himself to more wine, pouring for no one else. “You have more than enough material to work with.”

“Well, we all want what’s best for Abigail.” Hannibal said magnanimously as he rescued the bottle.

“This is possibly the finest salad I’ve ever eaten in my life. Shame to ruin it with all that meat.” Made Will choke on his wine. Ignoring Hannibal, Will excused himself before he pulled something from trying not to laugh, or cry, or both.

Chapter Text

The ceiling that was not his own, the one he was currently standing under, was dripping. Will found himself on his hands and knees in a pool of blood as it flowed out into an enormous puddle, one that spanned across an unfamiliar hardwood floor. It traveled from under a bed to the center of the room in a rush. It pooled in a crimson circle like a wet fathomless pit, each drip from the ceiling making it ripple.

A woman he had never met before was underneath Will, smiling up at him. She had a permanent expression carved into her once pretty face. Her Glasgow Smile was a jagged slash drawn all the way from her mouth’s corners to her ears. She choked beneath him, trying to sputter out something as she drowned in her own blood. Her mouth and throat were being flooded from her facial wounds. It didn’t take much longer for her to die.

Will’s heartbeat crash wildly against his ribs as his thoughts tried to outrace his rabbit heart.

“What am I doing? Where am I?” Will heard himself grind out as he stared down at the hooked knife in hand, the one he had no memory of owning. “Did I do this?” Horrified and confused, Will scuttled away from the body. He tried to stand up too quickly, slipped, and ended up grabbing for the bed to keep himself from falling into the now silent corpse and her tranquil sea of red. His grip left behind a bright smear on the bed.

Will can feel himself going into shock. He’s starting to drown in his own confusion as he stared down at the blood, the body, the knife he’s still clutching in his hand, and his own bright handprint on the bed.

Will’s ears were beginning to ring, his breathing becoming shallower and quicker. He was getting lightheaded and dizzy. If he didn’t leave right now he was going to pass out from being so overwhelmed. He never made it to the door, made to stop as reality firmly reasserted itself. Will became suddenly aware that someone was holding him tightly while they repeated his name over and over again to him. The voice was familiar and soothing. He was let go so that his face was forced up by gently cupped hands. Will was made to stare into the very much alive eyes in a lovely unique shade of maroon.

“You are Will Graham. You are in Greenwood, Delaware. You are at a crime scene. It’s 11:30 in the morning. The woman in the floor is Beth LeBeau. You did not kill her though you may think you have.” Calm washed over Will, leaving him weak and startled.

“Hannibal?” Will gasped out like he were actually breaking through water’s surface to come up for air.

“Yes, very good. Will, I need you to put down the knife before you hurt yourself or me with it.” Hannibal said, making Will remember he was still holding the damn thing. It fell from his numb fingers onto the floor with a sharp clatter. Taking off his coat to drape it over Will’s now shaking body, Hannibal flung open the door. It made Jack and the team jump back. Will was horrified to find them there, everyone staring at him in his current wrenched state.

“Will?” Beverly tried, bless her, but he just couldn’t answer her right now. He could only stare at Beverly with hollow eyes as he struggled to stay upright and conscious. Hannibal somehow managed to refrain himself from picking Will up, something he was grateful for, considering the blow that he had just taken to his pride. Will didn’t think he would survive being seen carried around like a baby.

Leaving the team to process the room, Jack followed after them. He watched as Hannibal gently yet thoroughly washed Will’s hands for him with warm water and soap. Will was also still aware enough to feel Jack’s stare drilling into the side of his head, but chose to watch Hannibal meticulously clean him like only a former surgeon and well experienced serial killer could instead. Hannibal returned the favor for him though, his steely expression making Jack sigh deeply before going out the back kitchen door.

They found Jack staring out into the open fields that surrounded the modest farm house. Will figured they might as well get this unpleasant exchange over with.

“I’m going to ask you a question and
if I think for a moment you’re withholding anything from me, I cannot guarantee a calm response.” Was Jack’s version of growth Will supposed. “What happened in there?”

“I got…confused.” Will answered shortly, hoping futilely that Jack would leave it at that.

“I’ve seen you confused before.
I’ve seen you upset. I’ve never seen you afraid like you were.” Jack said. Will almost told the man to go fuck himself.

“I’m an old hand at fear. I can
manage this one. I was just disoriented. I can go back in.” Will said instead.

“I saw your face when you walked out of that room. What you experienced in there stunned you silent.” Apparently, things were finally coming to a head for Jack.

“Really? No shit?” Escaped him before Will could tap down the rest of his budding anger, “I can see and hear better afraid. Just can’t speak as concisely.” He tried to make light of it.

“You contaminated the crime scene.” Jack was relentless. He wanted answers, real ones.

“I thought I was responsible.” Will admitted quietly since Jack refused to let this go.

“You thought you killed that woman?” Jack was a very unhappy man.

“Sometimes with what I do --“ Will started to say.

“What you do is take whatever
evidence there is and extrapolate. You reconstruct the thinking of a killer, not think you are a killer.” Jack was quicker.

“Yes, Jack. Why don’t you lecture me again about my own mental process some more? That’s always fun. Well, guess what? This is what it looks like when I have my head too tightly wrapped around cases!” Will finally snapped, “You wanna know what happened? I got lost in the reconstruction. Just for a second. Just a blink, but it was enough.”

“I know you don’t like to be a
subject of concern, but consider me officially concerned.” Jack said somberly, his expression darkening as he watched Will’s shoulders shake with barely contained laughter.

“Officially?” Will cackled back. “Now? Just now?”

“That’s right.”

“Thought the reason you have me
not seeing an FBI psychiatrist is so that my mental well-being stays unofficial.” Will said, watching as the blow landed like he wanted. He was tired being treated like an idiot.

“Have I broken you?” Jack asked, sincere and worried.

“No. No, you don’t get to ask me that. Absolutely not. You don’t get to act like you give a damn about me now.” Will spat out, “You’re either going to keep me in the field and you might get what you want, the Chesapeake Ripper, or you allow me go back to my classroom, leave me the hell alone, and you might never catch him. One life ruined seems like a really good deal in the grand scheme of things so don’t bother with whatever the hell this is.”

Jack glared at Will, but remained silent. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Will muttered, turning to go back in. Jack and Hannibal followed, neither taking their eyes off of Will’s back. He could hear the argument going on behind him though, even when they fell back.

“You knew, from the moment you
walked into his classroom, that you were putting Will in a potentially destructive environment.” Hannibal laid into Jack.

“I had eight college girls dead in
Minnesota. He caught their killer.” Like that makes everything all right. “I’d rather Will Graham go a little
mad than some innocent lose their life. And I think Will Graham would rather that, too.”

There it was, the sentiment spoken to his back instead of to his face.

“Will’s an innocent.” It was surreal to have such a prominent serial killer defend him in a conversation with the FBI.

“He’s an innocent I know is going to
survive. Will is genuine. He’ll always come back to being Will.” Jack made his excuses.

“Not always. So far.” Hannibal corrected.

“Do you think Will is mentally ill?” Jack had the audacity to ask.

“I’m literally right here. I can hear you.” Will threw over his shoulder.

“No, he is not, though your cases are not helping in that endeavor.” Hannibal spoke like he wasn’t a constant source of stress. “What Will has is too many mirror neurons. Our heads are filled with them when we’re children. Supposed to help us socialize and melt away. But Will held onto his, which makes knowing who he is a challenge. He’s always reflecting those around him.”

“Is that what happened today?” Jack asked, “Did Will reflect back too much of the killer on this one?”

“Still here.” Will reminded.

“It’s a mild form of echopraxia.” Hannibal said, “When you take him to a crime scene,Jack, the very air has screams smeared on it. In those places, he doesn’t just reflect, he absorbs.”

“You mean like how I’ve explained to everyone over and over again this whole time? Do I need to do so with an accent so it will sink in?” Will fumed, turning on his company, “You know what? Not another damn word about me until we’re done here. I’m sick of people speaking about me like I’m not here.”

They rejoined the team to find Zeller kneeling over the body as he studied the facial wounds. Beverly stooped next to some claw marks on the floor while Price dusted for prints.

“She drowned on her own blood.” Zeller told them.

“What she didn’t drown on is all
over the floor and under the bed. She was trying to hide from him.” Price said, just as grim.

“She was dragged there. He was
under the bed waiting for her.” Will corrected. He appreciated Price’s reaction of not automatically arguing with him about it.

“Fought to claw her way out.” Beverley said as she worked out a broken fingernail lounged in the wood.

Glancing around the room, Will realized that every framed picture had been smashed. The focus of the violence was placed upon the picture’s occupants faces.

“He knew her. Or thought he did.
It’s someone who cared about her.” Will intoned as he dived back into his own head.

“He cared too much.” Beverley said as she matched the fingernail to the body.

“We’re already looking at boyfriends, ex-boyfriends, co-workers, the guy who bags her groceries.” Jack said.

“I’ve got one clean set of
fingerprints on the knife handle.” Jimmy announced as he looked over at Will. “I assume they’re yours.”

Will looked away first. “Sorry.”

“There’s other dermal tissue,
presumably from the killer, but the skin is so diseased or damaged it didn’t leave any usable prints.” Price continued on thoughtfully.

Beverly studied the dead woman’s fingernails. “Victim scratched her killer deep enough to pile tissue under her fingernails, but never drew blood.”

“Why doesn’t he bleed?” Jack should really be on the normal cases Will decided. He really wasn’t cut out for this shit. Dealing with the normal criminal? Jack was golden. The abnormal though? He was a bull in a china shop. Jack was a highly intelligent man, but he was so far out of his depth that he wasted a lot of time and energy to keep from afloat. Will was the proverbial straw Jack was using to keep from drowning.

“Any number of reasons really.” Hannibal offered up as he studied the scene.

“After he cut up the victim’s face,
it looks like he was trying to pull the skin back.” Zeller said as he studied the wounds.

“Like he was removing a mask.” Will said, “That makes sense.”

“How does any of this make sense?” Zeller asked the question of the day before anyone else.

“This wasn’t savage. It was desperate...sad.” Will said, making everyone look over at him again as he started shaking again.

“I believe it is time for us to go.” Hannibal announced, suddenly reminding Will that he was still wearing Hannibal’s coat draped over his shoulders. He didn’t have any strength left to care. The team had already seen him compromised. It would be more fodder for whatever Hannibal had planned for him later on, and there was nothing he could do about it now. Will was led to the Bentley, Hannibal taking his hand to do so.

“Do you want your coat back?” Will asked as they exited.

“Keep it for now.”

“But you don’t like being cold.” Will said, actually getting a reaction from Hannibal for once, subtle as it was, his version of a flinch.

“Keep it. I’ll survive.” Hannibal’s mask was back in place.

“You shouldn’t have to suffer on my account.” Good ole Southern politeness was a force of habit on Will’s part sometimes, or so he told himself. He shouldn’t allow himself to have any empathy for Hannibal’s past trauma, repeated that sentiment back to himself like a prayer.

“If I should suffer anything, it should be by you.” Hannibal had the grace to correct that notion.

“I’m not going to argue with that.”

“I’m glad we’ve been able to find something to agree upon.”

“I still have the coppery smell of
blood on my hands. I can’t remember seeing her dead body before I saw myself killing her.” Will said quietly in the car.

“Those memories sank out of sight,
yet you’re aware of their absence.” Hannibal said, having an odd way of making his words sounds like a statement and a question all at once. Will put it down as more of a therapist thing than a doctor’s trait.

“They left a slick on the surface of
my mind where they’re supposed to be.” Despite the source, Will appreciated that quirk. It gave him an opening to expand on something if he so choose to do so.

“Where you hope they’re supposed to be, but fear they never were.”

“There’s a grandiosity in the
violence I imagined that feels more real than what I know is true.”

“What do you know to be true?”

“I know I didn’t kill her. Couldn’t
have.” Will said, “But I remember cutting into her. I remember watching her die, but it wasn’t savage. It was so
desperate...sad. The killer was looking for something in her, and they despaired when they couldn’t find it.”

“Are you still thinking like them?” Hannibal asked, sounding more curious than concerned. Will doubted he’d get that same treatment from the rest of the team now.

“Can’t be helped for now.” Will sighed, “I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked through me, past me. Like I was a stranger.”

“You have to honestly confront your
limitations with what you do and how it affects you.”

“You’re not my therapist.” Will grumped.

“True, but that doesn’t make it any less true.” Hannibal smiled, the prick.

“If by limitations you mean the
difference between sanity and insanity... I don’t accept that.” Will said with a determination he felt down to his core.

“What do you accept?”

“That I know what kind of crazy I am,” Will said, “Despite your best efforts in the matter.”

“You consider what I’ve done so far my very best?” Hannibal was definitely amused by that.

“That was an observation, not a challenge.” Will said quickly, wondering what fresh new Hell he’d brought upon himself.

“There is an unreality that comes from taking a life, of people who die by other’s hands. In those moments they’re not flesh, but light and air and color.” Hannibal said.

“Isn’t that what it is to be alive?” Will pointed out, wondering where this was going.

“Do you feel alive, Will?” And there it was.

“I feel like I’m fading.” But Will could shadow dance too. Give up a little to get a lot back. He refrained from saying, “It feels like I’m fading into you.”. Thought it best to keep that part to himself.

“How does that make you feel?”

“You sound like a therapist.”

“Lucky for you, I happen to be one.”

“Yes, Franklin is a shining success of your abilities.” Will poked.

“He was a lost cause referral I took on as a favor.” Hannibal poked back. “Answer the question.”

“How do I feel?” Will mused, “I don’t really know anymore.”

“Why does Tobias still weigh on your mind so heavily?“ Hannibal asked, “You didn’t kill him.”

“I know that,” Will shot Hannibal a look. “But I didn’t stop you either.”

“Why did you allow me to create?”

“Tobias had been operating in Baltimore for years. He supplied strings to the Orchestra. There’s around 21 musicians there who need replacement strings often which means there’s a whole lot of people who never made it home because of Tobias playing judge, jury, and executioner over their talent. We’ll never know his real number, how many people he killed. All that music never allowed to improve, to grow, or be played again.” Will spoke his past thoughts about it. “The long and short of it is that he doesn’t deserve notice for what he has done. All he deserved was to become a victim, to be judged, and his song ended. He’s just something to study now, a mere footnote in your long list of death.”

“Until a collector gets their hands on his music. His violin would be worth something to the more unique buyers and fans of the disturbing.”

“That won’t ever happen.” Will told his reflection in the car window.

“You sound very confident about that. May I ask why?”

“While you were downstairs, I kept busy. Part of that was destroying everything he created, took pride in.” Will had burned it all.

“Even his music?”

“Especially his music.”

“As above, so below.” Hannibal couldn’t resist referring to himself as a higher power. “You’ve made me your avenging angel.” Hannibal was, of course, delighted by this.

“More like a devil come to collect.”

Chapter Text

Will slid underneath Beth LeBeau’s bed, waiting for her. He felt safe here, a sensation that was foreign to him now. Will couldn’t remember the last time he had felt safe.

Water was seeping in through the ceiling, snow falling into the attic through the entrance he had left open to the elements. Cheek pressed to the cool hardwood, he stared at the water as it dropped down to form puddles in the middle of the room. It was eventually noticed by the occupant of the bed, the stranger who had roamed around Beth’s house like they lived there.

Legs came into his line of sight, Will reaching out to snatch the person sleeping in Beth’s bed off of their feet. The intruder was yanked to the floor, their bright screams shattering the night. The person who was supposed to be Beth was a stranger, someone Will does not know, but was sleeping in his friend’s bed. How did they get there? He had thought it was Beth, it was supposed to be Beth. This was where she lived. This is where she should be. It was all so wrong, and he didn’t know why. The stranger’s face kept contorting, Will seeing unexpected glimpses of Beth as the wailing face twisted with noise and color that frightened him.

It was a trick. It had to be a mask. Beth, for whatever reason, was wearing a mask, and she needed help taking it off. Once it was gone, Beth would see that it was just him. She would stop screaming then. That, or he would expose the imposter, this fake, for who they truly were, and then, Will would make them tell him where Beth was.

Will tried and tried, but the more he tried, the worse the face contorted. Eventually, the screaming stopped, muffling into wet gurgles and then nothing at all. It was quiet again, the peace of it broken only by the sound of melting snow hitting hardwood, pools of clear and crimson beginning to mingle. Tired, always so tired, Will laid back down on the floor to stare into the stranger’s lifeless eyes, the person who should have been Beth. Will closed his eyes for what he hoped would be for the last time.

Covering in sweat and shaking hard enough to rattle his teeth, Will woke up with a shout, his eyes flying open. Everything was a blur of movement and sound. Fueled by adrenaline, Will rolled out of the bed, falling to the floor with a loud thud to immediately start checking under the bed. Nothing was there, of course, not even dust bunnies.

“Fuck me.” Will rasped out in sudden blessed relief, rolling onto his back. Hearing some rustling of bedding, he cracked his eyes open to see Hannibal peeking down at him from atop the bed.

“Allow me to change the sheets first, and I will.” Hannibal said, his hair loose and sleep tousled. His voice was softly rough, being torn from the embrace of sleep. It sweetened his accent with a delicious hoarseness to it. Will got to experience what it was like to be simultaneously embarrassed, irritated, and turned on.

“No time. We’ve got to go back to Beth LeBeau’s house.” Will was already up and darting into the bathroom to towel off sweat off and strip.

“Right now?” Hannibal asked in what sounded more like amusement than opposition. He watched as Will started to throw on some clothes.

“Right now.” Will confirmed as he struggled into a pair of jeans while trying to pull down a flannel over his head at the same time. Somehow, he managed not to fall over, but it was close. “Move your bones.”

“You think the killer is going to return.” Hannibal was delighted by the notion, “And you don’t seem to be calling Jack to inform him of this either.” Even more so by that latter part.

“I’ve got a gun, and you’re, well, you so no. No, I am not.” Will said. He tried not to dwell on the fact that he shouldn’t be so relieved and even a little happy that Hannibal wasn’t going to argue with him about a guess, or tell him that he was being rash or foolish. “Anyway, I might be wrong. I don’t need to show my ass anymore than I already have.”

“But you feel confident enough to drag me out of bed?” Hannibal gave a token protest, but he was already getting dressed in his version of casual, slacks and a pullover Will knew it a fact cost over $3,000. He had liked the design of it, and had immediately regret looking it up. Will could tell that Hannibal was intrigued, even a little excited. He was greedy to know what was spilling over into Will’s head.

“Oh, boo hoo. You only sleep four hours on any given night,” It was only a two hour drive from Baltimore, Maryland to Greenwood, Delaware so that would put them back at the scene around 10pm. Roughly the same time Beth LeBeau was going to bed. “And knowing you, you probably make your own gourmet stimulants.”

“Why? Do you want some?” Hannibal offered with a twinkle in his eyes. Will threw a sock at his head, or at least tried to.

“No. Give that back.” Will ordered, going after his actually needed sock. What Hannibal did instead in one fluid motion was trip, twist, and sit Will down on the bed so that he could it on himself. Will gained a Cinderella’s perceptive for a moment as the sock was slid over his foot as smooth as glass.

“Was the necessary?” Will breathed out, Hannibal’s strong fingers lingering over the finer bones of his foot.

“No, but it was desired.” Hannibal smiled, rising up to steal a quick kiss.

The drive was mostly quiet except for a spirited debate about the merits of Tchaikovsky. He was liked by both of them, but for far different reasons. Will enjoyed that the composer was spiteful and depised some of his most famous creations while Hannibal enjoyed him because he found Tchaikovsky innovative with his vague instructions, and liberal use of canon fire. That, and Tchaikovsky believed church bells had musical merit.

“They’re here. I can smell sickness and decay.” Hannibal said quietly as they entered the farmhouse.

“Yeah, no shit.” Will’s olfactory senses were nowhere as keen, not by a long shot, but damn, there was something nasty lingering on the air, something that hadn’t been there before. Will was used to the scents that came with violent deaths. He was well versed in the metallic scent of blood, the sweet sour stank of rotting flesh, and the rancor that came from a corpse relieving itself for the last time, or being left to marinate in its chosen environment. What lingered in the air upon this night was different.

Will walked slowly into the dark bedroom, turning on the lamp on the night stand for some light. The gruesome scene replayed in his head, a growing stain welling up to cover the floor again. Will took a moment to steady himself from the onslaught, Hannibal looking over at him in question. Shaking his head, Will edged toward the bed, crouching down to peek beneath it. He froze when he saw a pair of eyes staring back at him from under the bed. There was a frozen moment before the bed flipped toward Will, almost knocking him over as someone scrabbled out from under it.

Hannibal was quicker though, grabbing the young woman who emerged from the darkness by her elbow. Making a sound Will would never forget, the skin of her arm completely slothed off. It left Hannibal holding part of an actual person suit. It was enough to even give the Ripper reason to pause as she made her escape.

“That’s different.” Hannibal said, studying the grotesque glove.

“What the actual fuck?” Will said, “Is that what I think it is?”

A noise coming from downstairs, a door slamming, reminded them both that they should probably be in pursuit. When they ran outside, she was gone. Unbothered by this, Hannibal tilted his head back to inhale deeply, eyes closed in concentration. When they snapped back open, he was already in motion, long legs leaping easily over fallen trees and other winter debris.

“This way.” Was all Hannibal said before taking off like a shot. It was distressing. Will had forgotten how fast the Ripper could move. Will followed, gun drawn, but he barely keep Hannibal in his line of sight at this pace. Will gritted his teeth as he crashed through the underbrush, the noise it made all the more apparent by Hannibal’s silent pursuit. The man was a damn shade gliding through the forest.

If this kept up, Will knew he would lose them both, a prospect he did not relish. Thankfully, Will didn’t have to worry about that for too long. Their living dead girl wasn’t in any shape or peek condition to run far over woodland terrain in the dark, especially with such an experienced hunter like Hannibal tracking her down.

In comparison, Will had seen healthier looking corpses than this woman kneeling on the cold earth where she had fallen. Hannibal looming over her, the woman stared up at them both with wide eyes, the whites of them filled with blood and yellowed. This close, Will confirmed how Hannibal was able to scent her to so easily. The young woman was filthy, reeking from it, her skin yellowed from disease, or from her liver shutting down. She was rail thin, clearly emaciated. Her newly skinned arm was a mess, oozing instead of bleeding.

“We’re not going to hurt you.” Will said softly as he holstered his gun, putting his hands out slowly to show her that they were empty. “We know Beth. We know you’ve been looking for her.”

The living dead girl seemed to mildly calm down at the mention of Beth’s name. She nodded back.

“It’s cold out here. Why don’t we all go back to the house so we can help you? Would that be alright with you?” Will said, “We can take care of your arm there. My friend here is a doctor. Let’s get you out of the cold, and then we can talk about Beth.”

The young woman stared back at him blankly. Her expression stated that Will’s words could have been speaking to her in a language foreign for all the effect his words were having.

“What is your name?” Hannibal asked as he knelt down. The living dead girl blinked owlishly back at him. It took her a moment, but she answered. Her voice was raspy from disuse.

“Georgia. Georgia Madchen.”

“I am Doctor Hannibal Lecter, and this is Special Agent Will Graham.” Hannibal said, “Georgia, I am going to tell you something, and I need you to listen to me.”

Georgia nodded instead of answering outright.

“Are you listening?”

Another nod.

“You are not dead.” Hannibal said very gently in reassurance.

Georgia looked back at him in confusion and feral silence. Will didn’t know what was going on here, but he decided to follow Hannibal’s lead. His mind flew back to the crime scene, all those broken pictures.

“I see you, Georgia.” Will told her to stir up more confusion within the young woman so he tried again. “Think of who you are. Where you are.”

That got her attention. Maybe it was the sincerity in both of their voices. They needed to get through to her, awakening something real within her again.

“Your name is Georgia Madchen. It’s 10:36pm. You are in Greenwood, Delaware.” Hannibal said, “You are here to see your friend, Beth LeBeau.”

“You are not alone. We’re here together.” Will added.

“Am…am I really alive?” Georgia asked, jaundiced eyes darting back and forth between them.

“Very much so, but we need to get you some help to remain that way.” Hannibal said. While Hannibal took care of Georgia inside Beth’s house, Will called Jack and the rest of the team. Upon arriving, their faces had a wide array of expressions. Jack was angry about life, Zeller was irritated about being woken up, Price was curious and hadn’t been asleep anyway, and Beverly was excited about whatever weird awaited them.

“Is that what I think it is?” Price asked in amazement as team was presented with the flesh sleeve.

“How?” Zeller was wide awake now.

“Hannibal grabbed her arm and an entire layer of dead skin separated from the underlying tissue... like she was wearing a glove.” Will told them.

“That’s why she doesn’t bleed.” Beverly nodded along as she poked at the stripped off flesh.

“No circulation. There’s nothing
alive in the tissue to bind it.” Will said.

“It could be a severe staphylococcal
infection.” Price spit balled.

“That, or leprosy.” Beverley threw in.

“Damn, that’s nasty.” Zeller did a body shiver.

“All we’ve seen, and this is what gets you?” Price giving the other man a hard evaluating look.

“Parts falling off a dead body is natural. Parts falling off the living is just plain gross and unnerving.” Zeller made a face back.

“Then I had better not tell you about the finer points of dust composition.” Price said.

“Haha.” Zeller muttered.

“Her eyes are discolored. She is
malnourished. Jaundiced. Liver’s shutting down.” Will filled them in on the rest.

“Why did she kill Beth LeBeau?” Jack asked.

“She can’t see faces.” Will shrugged.

“Are you trying to tell me that she mutilated a woman’s face
because she thought it was a mask?” Jack asked in disbelief.

“If she did kill Beth LeBeau, she might not even know she did it.” Will said with a small sigh.

“Then why did she come back?” Jack snapped. Something was brewing within the man.

“To convince herself she didn’t.” Will said.

“Is that why you came back?” Jack said intensely enough to put everyone in the room instantly on edge.

“If I wasn’t clear on that issue, I
know I didn’t kill Beth Lebeau. I just wanted to know who did.” Will’s words held a warning sharpness to them. “That’s why I returned to the scene.”

“Currently, you are the subject of a lot of speculation at the bureau.” Jack rumbled back, “Which means team is under a lot of speculation as well.”

“No, we’re not. You are.” Beverly finally snapped, throwing Jack off. He was starting to realize who had actually filed the complaint about him. “ You’re constantly pushing Will right up to the edge.”

“What happens if he pushes himself over that edge because of you?” Price was apparently on board too.

“How do you come back from something like that? Do you get to come back?” Zeller was an unexpected ally, but there he was, bold as brass along with the rest, “Look, we wanna catch the Ripper as much as you do, but where’s the line, Jack? When Will gets committed or fed to the Ripper like Miriam Lass?”

“Excuse me?” Jack was stunned. The team was skating on thin ice, but they were all in on this. They knew how bad it would look if Jack fired his entire team, the one he had handpicked to catch the Ripper. Jack was aware of it too.

“You sent a trainee after the Ripper. We don’t want to be cataloging bits and pieces of Will later on just because you’re impatient.” Price said quietly, but his words carried, the others nodding in agreement. “If you need a line, that’s it.”

“Georgia can’t accept her reality. I can occasionally identify with that.” Will intervened before Jack could go off on the team, making things worse. He must had looked really bad earlier to spur this sort of response from the team. Still…it left him feeling oddly touched. “That being said, I feel relatively sane.”

“And why can’t she accept her reality?” Jack backed off for now, though he continued to glower at the room.

“I believe she has Cotard’s
syndrome. It’s a rare delusional disorder in which a person believes he or she is dead.” Hannibal said as he rejoined the group in the kitchen. Taking his gloves off with a well practiced snap of latex, Hannibal started to wash his hands.“Risk of infection is high. She’s lost most of her vital fluids. Even some bone mass. She’ll need to be treated like a burn victim. I’ve given her a mild sedative.”

Of course, no one bothered to remark on that. Like it was perfectly normal for someone, including a former doctor, to have medical grade sedatives on hand.

“Will she recover mentally?” Jack said, honing in on the good doctor. He needed a win.

“Almost all sufferers of this
delusion recover with treatment. In extreme cases like this one, electroconvulsive treatment.” Hannibal said.

“I’m desperate for some explanations myself. I want to talk to this young woman when she recovers. How much of this will she remember?” Let it never be said that Jack didn’t have his priorities.

“I sincerely hope for her sake that she doesn’t remember much.” And Hannibal had his own. “Jack, she may never recover physically or mentally from this. We don’t know how long she’s been wandering out so exposed in the elements, and severe dehydration can cause memory loss all on its own.”

“Even if she does recover, she couldn’t see the victim’s face.” Will said. “Or anyone else’s for that matter.”

“The inability to identify others is
associated with Cotard’s syndrome. It’s a misfiring in the areas of the brain which recognize faces, and also in the amygdala, which adds emotion to those recognitions.” Hannibal explained.

“I see. It would be like she was surrounded by imposters.” Price nodded thoughtfully.

“That’s why you said the scene was sad, desperate, instead of angry.” Beverly said.

“Makes sense.” Zeller was coming along with them on this realization train.

“Usually always does in the end.” Will said dryly as he watched Jack. Whatever the man wanted out of this case, he was not getting.

“Georgia is as much a victim of her disease as Beth was.” Hannibal demonstrated his compassionate doctor suit. As expected, it hit all the right buttons. It was the type of persona that you wanted to hear possibly dire news or solutions from. “We need to treat her as such.”

“This doesn’t feel like a win.” was all Jack said before leaving their company.

He was right about something for once.

Chapter Text

“Doctor Lecter, may I have a word with you as well as some of your time?”

Jack Crawford was being unerringly polite, which was a warning sign unto itself. It meant he wanted something, and presumed that this was the best way of obtaining it from Hannibal.

“Of course.” Hannibal allowed magnanimously. He took note of Will’s look of dismay, but it wasn’t him being pulled into Jack’s office for once so Will decided to take this chance to make himself scarce. He muttered something about having to find Beverly before taking off like a shot. “What may I do for you?”

“I would like to discuss Will.” Jack said as they took their seats.

“What about him?” Hannibal said as he made himself comfortable. This exchange was going to be entertaining, bothersome, or both.

“I would have thought he’d make a full recovery by now.” Jack began, pausing significantly as if to insinuate something.

“I beg your pardon? In regard to what?” Jack couldn’t be asking about that.

“His encephalitis.” He was.

“Will has already recovered from that condition.” Hannibal said, keeping the insult and aggregation off of his face. “Quite a while ago, I might add, all while under my care.”

“Apparently not.” Jack had impudence to argue.

“In what regard?” Hannibal couldn’t wait to hear Jack’s lack of professional medical knowledge assessment about this.

“He contaminated a crime scene. He’s never done that before.” Jack said, “Something is going on with him.”

“And you think that something is due to encephalitis?” Hannibal asked, keeping his tone in check while mentally questioning the idiotic notion.

“It’s a distinct possibility.” Jack had the gall to say.

“No, it is not. I assure you, it’s not.” Hannibal was beginning to appreciate why Will was almost constantly irritated with the man. Jack didn’t listen, not really. He was a man who held his own personal opinions about known and unknown things in very high regard. “He’s been seen and treated by the best medical professionals, myself included among that number. Will has been cured of his encephalitis since the Hobbs case.”

“Then can you explain to me what it wrong with him?” Jack pressed.

“I believe myself and many qualified others have done so, almost to the point of ad nauseam.”

“So explain it again anyway.”

“From what I understand, Will has never taken on so many back to back cases of the violent, the macabre, and the unusual. The experiences are intense for him, and it will only get worse the more he endures at this accelerated pace.” Hannibal, “In my professional opinion, Will is suffering from a good old fashioned case of PTSD mixed in with insomnia and daily ongoing stress.”

“It’s as simple as he’s being overwhelmed then?” Jack’s response made Hannibal sigh.

“There is nothing simple about Will or his gift.” Hannibal said in all seriousness, “Jack, I and Alana, Will himself even, has told you time and time again how detrimental being out in the field is for him. None of us has ever exaggerated this point. The strength of his empathy is truly unique and all encompassing for Will, on a level very few would understand. I’ve never come across anything like it before as a past or current case study. Possibly worst of all, we may never know the full extent of Will’s abilities.”

“Because he’s too afraid to use them.” Was what Jack got out of all that.

“I would say he’s more wise not to.” Hannibal’s patience was a force unto itself, but Jack was really beginning to test it. “Jack, you can’t keep using a rapier as a sledgehammer. You’re only going to end up shattering your blade.”

“Is that your professional or personal opinion?”

“It’s both in regard to Will.”

“I can’t have my team turning on me.” Which was the real issue at hand for Jack.

“That is hardly Will’s fault. If anything, it’s mine.”

“What? You’re talking behind my back now too?”

“Perish the thought, but Will being in a relationship with me humanizes him to others. I doubt he would have gotten the same response from the team if he were here all on his own. When others see that someone is valued and loved by another of merit, they too will regard that person with a more open mind. Your team want to treat Will well because I openly care for him.”

“So what you’re saying is that I only have myself to blame for their insubordination?” Jack gritted out before leaning back in his chair to study Hannibal. “I could get rid of you.”

“You most certainly can, but you’d lose Will in the process.” Hannibal said easily enough.

“You seem pretty confident about that.” Jack’s bravado was beginning to fail him.

“Call Will in here then. Let us test out how confident I am.” Hannibal challenged, calm and relaxed about whatever outcome. Part of him wanted to see what would happen if Will were called into Jack’s office to be told he could quit or was fired..

“That won’t be necessary.” Jack decided for them all.

“I will take my leave of you then,” Hannibal smiled ever so slightly to twist the metaphorical knife just a little bit more. “Unless there is anything else you wish to discuss?”

“No, Doctor Lecter. That will be all.” Jack glowered.

Hannibal found Will in teacher mode with a captive audience, the team in serious discussion about the comparative decomposition rates of humid vs dry climates effects on insect activity. It was so riveting that’s Price was even jotting down notes.

Knowing that Jack was watching, Hannibal made a point of walking by Will so that he could lightly kiss his temple in passing. It was a casual display of affection, but one that made Hannibal’s heart flutter in a odd, warm way as Will accepted the gesture as commonplace. He barely paused to acknowledge it other than with a small smile, making his lips turn up ever so slightly without even realizing it as he continued to lecture.

“A good example of this is Florida. If you’re trying to dispose of a body, the act is burying it will more likely get you caught. The layer of dirt acts as protection from the elements, bug activity, and scavengers. If you leave a body weighing in around 200 pounds out above ground in a Floridian swamp, there won’t be anything left in a week. The heat, humidity, scavengers, and local insect activity will disperse the body. You’d be lucky to find a recognizable bone fragment.”

“Pardon the interruption, but if we don’t leave now, we are going to be late.” Hannibal interjected at a pause in conversation.

“Hot date?” Beverly teased.

“That would depend upon your perspective.” Will said, “We are about to welcome all the dogs back from their vacation.”

“What?” Zeller said more in the tone of ‘what the fuck’ than simply ‘what’.

“Some renovations were being made to Will’s home as per my request. It would have been too stressful for Will’s dogs to stay there during construction so they’ve been at the Inn by the Sea in Maine with their favorite sitter, Nell.” Hannibal said, making Will blush and the team exchange looks of disbelief.

“So let me get this straight,” Beverly was definitely amused, “Your dogs went on vacation without you?”

“To avoid being stressed out by unfamiliar people and loud construction, yes.” Will’s eyes were studying the ceiling.

“I think it’s far more interesting that they moved in together.” Price said, getting to the true nugget of gold in this gossip.

“We still own our own respective homes.” Will pointed out.

“Yeah, but you’re making space from him at your place.” Price said sagely with a bit of a smug look.

“Yeah. You don’t strike anyone here as a sharer.” Zeller added.

“Just because I don’t share with you doesn’t mean I’m incapable.” Will shot back.

“Hey guys, let them get back to their dogs and domestic bliss.” Beverly grinned, “Just so you know, you’re not allowed to elope if he pops the question.”

“I hate every single one of you.” Will muttered, his blush going all the way down to his neck and ears now.

“Hey, if you two get married, you’re going to cook, right?” Beverly asked, a sparkle in her eyes.

“If anyone tried to stop me, I’d put them on the menu.” Hannibal told them in all honesty with a smile to peals of laughter and one very sour look from Will.

The things that were changed at the farmhouse was an updated kitchen, converted to Hannibal specific specifications. There was also an complete overhaul of the second story, including the plumbing. For the first time ever in its existence, Will’s place finally had decent water pressure. Other than that, everything had been left as Will had allowed it to exist before. The kitchen still had its faded wallpaper and the previous owner's art upon its walls.

The dogs and Will, of course, were elating to be united once again. Hannibal gave all them their space, taking the time to prepare gourmet dog food alongside their own meal. It would seem that their sweet peace was not meant it last, a phone call to both their phones interrupting the festivities.

“What is it? Anything interesting?” Hannibal asked as Will stared down at his phone as if he were contemplating chucking out the window to let the dogs bury it out in the yard.

Hannibal glanced up from his plating to study Will. He looked irked about something, more so than usual. Some of dogs responded to that shift in demeanor by crowding around him for comfort and pets.

However, much to Will’s chagrin, Buster remained by Hannibal’s side like sentient glue, his attention only and fully on the food. He was a smart little dog, never getting underfoot or in the way though so Hannibal didn’t mind him. If anything, Hannibal appreciated Busters’s restraint, flicking the canine a little slice of sausage from the knife before Will or any of the other dogs would notice. Buster caught it quiet and quick without fuss, licking his chops. The pair of them had come to an understanding.

“That was Jack.” Will announced to very little fanfare.

“Who else provokes that look upon your face?”

“Gideon has escaped.”

Hannibal paused in momentary thought. “That is unfortunate.”

“Putting it a bit mildly, don’t you think?” Will said, “Gideon is dangerous.”

“Why should I care about that?” Hannibal asked, delighting in Will’s face journey.

“You know, one day you’re not going to be the biggest murderous fish of the pond.”

“And on that day, I can only sincerely hope that whoever kills me will honor me as I would them.”

“You want to be eaten?” Will asked, sounding a bit incredulous and exasperated about it. It made Hannibal smile over at him.

“I believe I will have very little say in the matter if they somehow manage to kill me.” Hannibal said, sneakily sending one last piece of meat Buster’s way.

“Quit feeding him human food.” Obviously not sneaky enough.

“What gave me away?” Hannibal asked, curious about who was the weak link, if he had a tell or not.

“Buster.” Will said, nodding toward the canine who responded to his name. He left Hannibal’s side for shamelessly demand pets.

“Pouquoi?”

"Il se tien a l'écart et est trop calme"
Will clicked his tongue at Buster, reminding the dog mind his manners. Buster went to join the rest of the pack as they began to settle down down for a nap. With the exception of the resilient Buster, the dogs were trained up not to beg for food at mealtimes. "Ce qui veut dire qu'il sait qu'il y aura de la nourriture la s'il se tiens tranquille. What do you look so happy about?”

“I enjoy you speaking another language.”

“My Cajun isn’t too bastardized or guttural for you?”

“It’s uniquely you.”

“Great non-answer.” Will rolled his eyes, “So what did Jack want to talk to you about?”

“You,” Hannibal smiled, “Of course.”

“Oh goodie. Am I fired? Please tell me that I’ve been let go.”

“Hardly. Jack is merely baffled about why you’re not being more complacent. He wanted to blame your recent insubordination and crime scene folly on encephalitis.” The revelation got an ugly amused sound out of Will.

“The encephalitis that you cured? How incredibly rude of him.” Will poked, “Don’t you want to do something about that?”

“All in good time.”

“Patience is a virtue?”

“Something like that.”

Chapter Text

Dinner was going to be Kudal. Apparently, Kudal was an Indian curry made of sheep intestines presented in an ornately sculpted banana leaf. Where the fuck did Hannibal get perfectly unmarred, fresh banana leaves in Maryland during the winter? WHERE? They were about to find out, almost done with their current course. The wine was beginning to spur off some real conversation.

“Dr. Gideon is a psychopath.
Psychopaths are narcissists. They rarely doubt who they are.” Hannibal said as one hell of a conversation starter as he topped off everyone’s glasses. Dinner tonight was going to be innards dressed up in fancy sauce. Will still found that more tolerable than half of tonight’s company, Alana and Chilton dining with them this evening.

“It would be a mistake to appeal to his narcissism.” Alana pointed out, taking care not look over at Chilton while she did so.

“Yes. Somehow he is convinced that he is the Chesapeake Ripper.” Hannibal said, who pointedly looked over at Chilton. In response, the man fidgeted in place. Apparently, Hannibal was still quite peeved about the entire matter. Between Hannibal and Gideon, Will wondered to himself who would get to Chilton first.

“Was. Was the Ripper.” Will corrected, “Abel Gideon’s having a vast difference of opinion regarding who he is right now. If his victims in the van are anything to go by.”

“I suppose that is my fault, too.” Chilton grumbled into his wine.

“You did dodge a bullet. Gideon’s
escape foregoes a trial.” Will smiled, cool and malicious at the other man. “And a very public humiliation for you.”

“Now you’re hosting a private one.
Next you’ll be accusing me of arranging his escape.” Chilton snapped.

“Nobody’s making that accusation.” Alana soothed. It did not have the effect she was going for.

“If we’re assigning blame, Dr.
Bloom, you’re due your fair share. You planted the suggestion I was unethically manipulating Gideon.” Chilton turned on her.

“According to Gideon, you were.” Alana countered, unperturbed.

“After you told him I was. You
thought I was manipulating him? He was manipulating you.” Chilton was back to being snide, dismissive. “All this litigious lather you’ve worked up gave him the opportunity to escape.”

“You were pushing him.” Alana calmly insisted. It was a tactic she favored, especially when dealing with a male counterpart. She stayed in a low neutral tone of voice while goading the other to keep raising their own, usually to the point where in the end, they looked and sounded ridiculous.

“He gave me informed consent to
treat him. Said he was grateful for my help understanding who he is.” Chilton was a good case in point of this.

“What did you help him understand?” Will said, his own tone informing the room just how unlikely that was.

“That he wasn’t insane when he killed his wife. Killing her drove him insane. He disassociated from the previous murders he committed. I didn’t convince him he’s a serial killer.” Chilton said, “I just reminded him of the fact.”

“Gideon is not the Chesapeake Ripper.” Hannibal said firmly, being straightforward for once. Will was amused that this was no time for puns. Dire circumstances indeed.

“Although he may have thought he was while under your care, Doctor.” Alana was a terrier in her own way, a persistent gnawer of the truth bone.

“Whether he is or he isn’t doesn’t
matter right now. If he thinks he is or even if he’s confused on that issue, he will kill again.” Chilton leaned back in his chair, considering the wine in hand. He probably felt like it was his only friend left right now.

“I hope he doesn’t for your sake.
Can’t imagine how you’d sleep with that on your shoulders.” Alana edged in the knife.

“How did you sleep after Gideon
killed your nurse?” Will twisted it.

“They thought he was unconscious.
The attendant left the nurse alone for three minutes. And in those three minutes Dr. Gideon did horrible things. I am less responsible for that nurse’s death than the attendant’s small bladder.” Chilton snapped.

“What do you think Gideon wants?” Hannibal asked, receiving an open look of relief from Chilton.

“Last thing Abel Gideon said to me
was he intended to tell everyone he’s the Chesapeake Ripper.” Chilton said.

“He just wasn’t intending to do it
in court.” Will snorted, his contempt palpable.

“If only I had been more curious
about the common mind.” Chilton sighed, finally beginning to acknowledge just how deep he was in this shit.

“I have no interest in understanding
sheep. Only eating them.” Hannibal said as he reentered the room bearing food. “Kudal. A South Indian curry. Made from sheep, of course. In a coconut-coriander-chili sauce.”

“Feels like a last supper.” Chilton said morosely, definitely feeling sorry for himself now.

“You’re not the only psychiatrist a
patient has accused of up making them kill. Poke around a psychopath’s mind, bound to get poked back.” Hannibal placated like the pot of poisoned honey he was.

“What would you do in my position?” Chilton asked his host.

“Deny everything.” Hannibal said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’re an old hand at that.” Will muttered, making Alana laugh and Hannibal smile. Only Chiton decided to take offense.

“I don’t remember you being so vicious.” Chilton said, narrowing his eyes at Will.

“Don’t act like you know me at all.” Will said, “But you do know Gideon. He took a police uniform, police radio, two nine millimeter handguns, pepper spray, taser and handcuffs. Food for thought about what he plans to do with all that.”

“It’s what he didn’t take.” Hannibal pointed out because, of course, he had to.

“What exactly didn’t he take?” Chilton asked after it was apparent that neither of them was going to expand on the matter.

“He hung the organs from the branches of a tree with veins from the other victims.” Will said, deliberately take a big bite of intestine while he did so. “If memory serves, saphenous veins and popliteal. He even tied little bows with them.”

“It’s impressive for an
arterectomy to be performed with only the contents of a first aid kit and a dipstick.” Hannibal said, making Chilton turn a shade paler.

“The Chesapeake Ripper wouldn’t have left the organs behind.” Will smiled, too grim and toothy for it to be humorous.

“If Gideon isn’t the Chesapeake
Ripper, he’s certainly trying to get his attention.” Alana said.

“Gideon could go anywhere. He’s probably not even near the city anymore.” Chilton tried to calm his nerves. Will wasn’t about to let that happen.

“Wishful thinking. Local PD’s picked up a foot trail leading out of the woods. Boot soles were consistent with what we found at the crime scene.” Will told him.

“Which direction were they headed?” Alana beat Chilton to the meat of the matter.

“Back to Baltimore.” Hannibal supplied.

“Before Gideon left, he said that he’d keep an eye out for me.” Chilton looked a little green around his edges, the Kudal not to blame.

“Then you should be relieved to know that Gideon didn’t leave a manifesto. The team confiscated all correspondences he got from outside admirers. They’re going through everything now.” Hannibal said.

“Did they find any secret communiques or coded
messages written in bodily fluids or anything else?” Alana asked.

“They won’t find anything. Whatever
Gideon’s up to is all in his head.” Will waved his hand dismissively, the notion absurd. Gideon wasn’t so much a planner like that.

“What do you think he’s up to?” Chilton asked

“I dunno.”

“Shouldn’t you know?! You can do that thing!” Chilton wasn’t yelling yet but it was close. “That thing you do !”

“What? All my delightfully unique cocktail of neuroses that make me such a good profiler?”

“Yes. That.”

“It doesn’t make me psychic.” Will said, “I need more evidence to work with.”

“Organs ornately strung up in a tree isn’t enough?!” Chilton was becoming a bit unhinged. The stress was really beginning to get to him.

“To simply put it, no. Gideon’s brain is a soup sandwich.” Will shrugged, “What we do know is that Gideon is an extremely talented, murderous surgeon that has a bone to pick with you.”

“How did it come to this?” Chilton lamented, sagging back into his chair.

“Is that rhetorical or do you really want me to answer that?” Will smiled, sharp and almost wicked. He was really starting to enjoy this. Chilton looked as if he was about to throw up.

“I, for one, am interested to see what he does next.” Hannibal said as he cleared their mostly empty plates. Chilton had lost his appetite half way through.

“I don’t think we’ll have to wait too long.” Will sighed, “There wasn’t much left in their heads”

“Whose heads?” Alana asked.

“The nurse and the PT Officier.” Will said.

“Oh no.” Alana was already beginning to guess correctly about what had happened to Chilton’s staff.

“All the organ removal was
postmortem.” Hannibal said, “Including transorbital lobotomies done with a dipstick.

“Yes. If it is wasn’t so horrific, that would be impressive.” Alana winced.

“It wasn’t technically a lobotomy.
Didn’t remove any of the brain, just scrambled them. He went in through the top of the eye socket and whisked their brains around.” Will wondered how green and grey they could make Chilton who was throwing back wine now like it was water.

“Why remove every other organ in
their bodies completely in tact and then scramble their brains?” Chilton burst out, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Actually, it makes perfect sense.” Will said easily enough, drawing a look of ire from his growing more irate company. “That’s what they did to him.”

“That’s what who did to him?” Chilton all but snarled.

“You and every psychiatrist
and Ph.D. Candidate who attempted any kind of therapy. Poked and prodded. Gave him tests. Told him who he was, who he wasn’t.” Will said, easy as Sunday to make Chilton turn a interesting shade of puce.

“You’re in good company. I’m on the same list as you.” Alana said

“So what’s being done?” Chilton demanded.

“Jack’s got a list of every doctor,
every therapist, anybody in any kind of psychiatric field who ever had a conversation with Gideon. We’re working out from there, but it’s a long list.” Will shrugged.

“What do I do until Gideon’s captured? I can’t live like this!” Chilton demanded.

“Like Alana, you’ll probably get an armed escort until he’s caught.” Hannibal said, “Bring it Agent Crawford’s attention.”

“They’re going to kill Gideon,
aren’t they?” Was an unexpected question from Alana. She actually sounded a little choked up about it.

“Good.” Chilton spat out.

“Whatever happens to him, it has
nothing to do with you.” Will assured, ignoring the little flare of jealousy in Hannibal’s eyes.

“Gideon’s not completely responsible for his actions if he was subjected to an outside influence.” Alana said.

“Like Dr. Chilton telling him he’s
the Chesapeake Ripper?” Will supplied.

“Excuse me!” Chilton was ignored.

“No. Like me telling him he’s not in a
state of mind to know who he is.” Alana said, reminding Will that deep down she was a good person, definitely the best one currently in the room. “What do you think will happen if he finds the Ripper?”

“The Chesapeake Ripper will kill
him. He took credit for his work.” The Chesapeake Ripper answered for Will.

“The Ripper would consider that rude.” Will clarified, “Gideon doesn’t know it yet, but he’s a deadman walking.”

“Do you think the Ripper is actively hunting him?” Chilton was suddenly very invested in the answer. “Do you think that he’ll kill Gideon like he did that Tobias fellow?”

“That’s not a good thing.” Will shot him a look. Hannibal didn’t need anymore encouragement to be a bastard. “You do realize that, right?”

“It’s a good thing for me and everyone else involved if he does.” Chilton vehemently disagreed, making Will shake his head at him with a complex expression, fathomable only to Hannibal.

“Careful. Deals with the Devil never pan out for anyone in the end. The house always wins.”

Chapter Text

Gideon had Freddie Lounds. They were going to have to save Freddie Fucking Lounds. Around the same time of this fond realization was when Alana decided to inform everyone that Chilton was not answering his phone so they might have to rescue him too. This case just kept getting better and better with Gideon treating his victims like BOGO.

“Are you all right?” Was the question that made Will look over at Hannibal. They were driving to the latest scene. It did not hold Lounds or Chilton within its spaces though. Still, there was a corpse awaiting their arrival to look at so that was now a thing they had to deal with. It just wasn’t the dead body anyone expected or was hoping for.

“Yeah, for the most part,” Will wondered if it was some sort of trick question or something, “All things considered. Why do you ask?”

“You keep sighing like you’re about to face a firing squad.”

“Do you think that we’ll get lucky for once?” Will asked as he stared out the window. He was starting to really get sick of winters here, the sky remaining an iron grey for months.

“How so? In what regard?”

“That maybe Gideon will just kill them both by the end of this.” Will managed to not sigh again, catching himself in time, “Then himself ideally. Is that too much to hope for in the grand scheme of things?”

“While Doctor Gideon’s surgical skills are impressive, his methods of murder do leave a lot to be desired.” Hannibal nodded, neither confirming or denying Will’s wish.

“In more ways than one.”

“It sounds like you want them all to die.” Hannibal sounded positively giddy about the notion.

“No, not exactly, but if it does happen…” Will trailed off before resuming, “Would it really be such a terrible thing?”

“Would it be like ‘two birds, one stone’ for you?” Hannibal continued, definitely amused by the prospect, the complete and utter bastard. Will knew he had to reel himself in before something unfortunate happened to other people, himself included, or he chipped a little bit more away from his own dwindling sanity. Some days, Will had a better idea of his mind’s shape. Others though…others had him hyperventilating in a bathroom, hunkered down in a shower until the water ran cold, or Hannibal came looking for him.

“No.” Will muttered, remaining quiet for the remainder of the ride. He didn’t want to give Hannibal a new mission in life. That, and his company’s way of thinking about how to deal with other people was a slippery slope that only ended in death. Will knew he was already beginning to lose his foothold upon that mental incline.

Soon enough, Jack, Will, Hannibal, Alana, and Zeller were all gathered around the body of a very dead Carson Nahn. His throat was cleanly sliced with a well practiced precision so that his tongue could be pulled through the slit in his neck. The stilled muscle rested neatly on the man’s upper chest like a tie.

“Dr. Carson Nahn. He’s the
Psychiatric Attending at Western General. Interviewed Gideon for the same psychopathy survey I participated in two years ago.” Alana introduced them to the deceased.

“Total frenectomy. All of the
webbing under the tongue, even the connective tissue into the throat has been cut free and pulled through for the... desired effect.” Zeller said in almost admiration. Will had to admit it was an impressive surgical feat.
Very much so, but one obviously, at least to Will, not executed by Gideon. He sneaked a glance over at Hannibal who subtly winked back at him in confirmation.

“Still no word from Dr. Chilton?” Jack didn’t sound hopeful about the man’s prospect of remaining in the present tense.

“He hasn’t answered his phone since yesterday and didn’t show up to work this morning.” Alana said, exchanging looks with both Will and Hannibal. Everyone here knew it was probably safe to assume the worst.

“Gideon wants to lure the Ripper out into the open.” Will told them.

“The good doctor is going to offer up the man who disrespected both of their identities.” Hannibal added. He was certainly pleased by the idea. Of course he would be. It was always polite to apologize with a homemade gift.

“Every detail of Paul Carruthers’
murder meticulously described in Freddie Lounds’ article has been faithfully re-created except one...” Jack said as he pulled back the sheet covering Carson Nahn up to his shoulders. It was revealed that one of his arms has been recently amputated. Will managed to bite back a bark of laughter in time, muffling it into a coughing fit instead.

“Sorry, dust.” Will muttered.

“What’s different about Carson? Why amputate his arm?” Alana asked as she studied the latest development.

“Freddie write anything about this?” Jack asked Zeller who shook his head.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Abel Gideon didn’t kill this man.” Will was not looking forward to this reveal or Jack’s expected immediate reaction to it. “The Chesapeake Ripper did.”

“The Chesapeake Ripper is copying
his own copy cat?” Like stink on shit, Will had Jack’s full attention back on him now.

“You said the Chesapeake Ripper
would want to kill Gideon for taking credit for his work.” Alana pointed out, “So why all this?”

“Gideon’s not alone anymore. The
Ripper won’t risk exposure. So he’s telling us how to catch him.” Will tried not to grumble through the explanation. He was busy wondering how the hell Hannibal had found time to do any this. “Actually, he’s telling you.” He finished, nodding a over at Jack. As per usual, the agent needed a nudge in the right direction to get what was so blatantly apparent to Will.

“Where was the last place you saw a severed arm, Jack?” Will asked, somehow managing to keep almost all of the sarcasm out of his voice. He was also trying not to feel too irked that Hannibal had figured where Gideon was before anyone else.

“What didn’t you tell me?” Will asked as soon as they were alone in the Bentley again. “You’ve known since? Since when?”

“Where would be the fun in telling you that?” Hannibal said coyly, basking in Will’s glare like a smug cat in the sun. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“You knew as soon as Freddie was abducted that Chilton was next and where they would be.” Will said after a moment of reflection, “And you drugged me again?”

“Are you asking or telling me that?” Hannibal said, the murderous bastard always one for prid pro quo.“You know you have been sleeping better at my place. It could simply be a case of that.”

“You drugged me.” Will decided, cutting through the bullshit before it was piled up to his eyeballs.

“It was a very mild sedative.”

“That’s doesn’t make it any better.”

“When properly administrated, it has no noticeable side effects.” Which was as much as a non-apology that Will was going to get.

“That’s not the point!”

“Will, what are you really upset about?” Hannibal said, pressing a few more buttons.

“Still not my therapist. Just because Chilton’s missing doesn’t mean there’s a sudden snowball’s chance in hell for you to make the cut.” Will said as he pressed a few buttons right back. “Or if Alana was completely unavailable.”

“Her speciality is working with traumatized children and their families.” Ha ha, button definitely pressed.

“Yeah, but at least she doesn’t drug me. Big win in my book”. Will countered.

“She also believes in Abigail, sees her as a victim.” Hannibal pointed that out like it were Alana’s folly in the matter.

“I purely blame you for that.” Will said, “You’ve been gaslighting her this entire time, probably since the first day you two met.”

“Do I detect some notes of jealousy in your observation?” Hannibal teased, though Will knew how much the Ripper wanted it to be true.

“Her abilities to know when a serial killer in the room with her, or any general sort of threat for that matter, has been ruined by you.” Will continued on, not bothering to acknowledge the notion.

“I would say more hindered than fully compromised.” Hannibal said, his version of backpedaling.

“Still not a good thing.” Will grumbled before changing directions. “Maybe she’ll just escape.”

“Alana? Unlikely.”

“No, I mean Freddie.” Will said, ignoring that last bit for now. One problem at a time. “I mean, she already seems to somehow get into guarded crime scenes. Maybe she’ll sneak out on Gideon.”

“Doubtful. I believe she will remain wherever the story is being staged.”

“I do know one thing for certain.”

“And what is that?”

“She’s going to regret it,” Will said, “If she hasn’t already.”

Based on the scared look upon her pale face, she was. Lounds was doing her best to keep Chilton alive, which judging from the pile of his own organs that he was holding, might not be for much longer. Gideon was long gone before the cavalry arrived, his dastardly deed done.

Hannibal wasted no time, pulling on gloves and using the medical equipment Gideon had left behind to try and save Chilton. He was still working on the mercifully unconscious man when the paramedics arrived. Hannibal managed to stabilize Chilton well enough for transport. He might actually pull through thanks to Hannibal’s efforts. Will didn’t know how to feel about that.

He did, however, get to witness a rare moment of indecision on Hannibal’s part. It was here and then gone in less than a second. There was a pause from Hannibal on whether he should ride back with Chilton and take on the massively intricate challenge of putting the man back together, or staying here to deal with Gideon and the rest of the fallout. Though both had their appeals and merits, Hannibal choosing to stay in the end.

“There’s something you both should know.” Lounds said quietly. Something about her unusual demeanor caught Will’s full attention, curbing a sharp tongue as he focused in on her. She was more than just scared. Freddie was worried about something. That certainly wasn’t a good sign.

“Chiton gave Gideon two addresses.” Lounds said, “He got to keep some of his liver for Doctor Lecter’s address and his balls for Doctor Bloom’s.”

“Shit.” Will swore, the sentiment echoed by the team. “Your ability to survive never ceases to amaze me.”

“Careful, Graham. That almost sounds like a compliment.” Lounds was quick. At the very least, Will had to give her that. “Can I quote you on that?”

“No.”

“Anonymously it is then.”

“Lecter, you take Beverly and some officers to your place since you have the home advantage there. Will and the rest are with me.” Jack decided quickly, “Someone call Doctor Bloom, and inform her to stay inside and lock up. We’ll be there shortly. Move, people! Move!”

Will wasn’t a fan of this plan. Neither was Hannibal for that matter, a micro-expression of irritation flitting across his face before smoothly leaving behind his usual placid expression. Neither of them argued it though, each having their parts to play. Both were curious in different ways about what Jack would do or say now that he would have Will momentarily all to himself.

“You look like hell, Will.” Was Jack’s opening line to a conversation Will was not looking forward to.

“Actually, I feel more fluid than anything. I might be coming down with something.” Will said as neutrally as possible. He hated small talk, but would attempt to keep up some sort of professional civility.

“Hope it’s not contagious.” Jack said before segwaying into violence. “This. What we do. Can weaken your immune system. If you allow it.”

“If I allow it?” Will said a little too crisply to be casual. He was most definitely not going to like what came next out of Jack’s mouth.

“Keep this all in perspective. Keep
yourself in perspective.” Was Jack’s ridiculous advice. He was like someone telling an expert in their field that he’d done his own research. Jack was basically suggesting the equivalent of trying out aromatherapy and essential oils for Will to get over his issues. He continued on as Will silently fumed. “You seem over-whelmed. You’ve got to take care of yourself, Will.”

“Build up my resistance?” Will played along. After dealing with Hannibal for so long, Jack’s wordplay game was infantile in comparison.

“Just don’t let yourself go. As much
as you can, let the rest of it go. You take too much of this with you.” Jack’s tone was almost patronizing, like he was giving some sort of grand advice from up on high.

“I’m not Miriam Lass. Don’t heap your guilt onto me.” Will’s back teeth were eventually going to crack if he kept grinding them in response to every annoying, condescending notion that bypassed Jack’s brain to fly out of his mouth.

“Neither of you are real F.B.I.,
which means I’m as responsible for you as much as I was for her.” Jack wasn’t rising up to the bait as of yet.

“I’ll take my own responsibility.” Will muttered.

“Not from me, you won’t. We’re
going to share that responsibility,” Will knew what Jack was trying to do. It was a little too late to make any sort of alliance with him though. Jack’s words rang hollow to Will’s ears. “I broke the rules for Miriam Lass. Encouraged her to break the rules. I’m breaking the rules with you.”

“Allowing a student and an unstable agent to do field work?” Just to name a few sins. Will knew for a fact that Alana was keeping track of every single one of Jack’s little fuckups. Hannibal was seeing to that as well, helping Alana in that particular endeavor by supplying every detail. If this every went it court, Jack was going to be crucified.

“Special Agent. Meaning you still
represent the F.B.I. Meaning you still represent me.” Like that meant anything to Will. Miriam Lass had been a mere trainee, both of them reduced down to fodder for the Ripper by Jack.

“Have I misrepresented you, Jack?” Will asked wondering where this was going other than merrily to Hell in a hand basket.

“No, but you’ve got me curious. Why
are you still here when you and I both know this is bad for you.” Jack finally noticed one of Will’s looks for once. “Why haven’t you quit or at least tried to?”

“Do you want me to quit?” Will smiled crookedly, the expression unpleasant.

“I want you to know why I think you
don’t quit.” Will somehow managed not to react to…whatever the fuck this was going to be. It should be stunning though, and not in the good way, Jack’s grand take on it all. “You’re still here because what you do here has given you some sense of stability. That stability is good for you, Will.”

Will couldn’t help it. He howled in laughter, the sound of it almost deafening within the confines of the vehicle. Will laughed and laughed and laughed until tears ran down his cheeks. Will laughed until he started to dry heave. He had a splitting headache from the intensity of it all.

“You done?” Jack asked, looking concerned and more than a little taken aback by the outburst. “What was that all about?”

“Oh nothing, Jack. Just that I figured out who the Chesapeake Killer was over dinner, the same one you were invited to and ate off of the same plates as me in that house of death, everything decorated with animal bones including the plates everyone dined upon. Said serial killer knows that I know who he is, and made me a deal because he’s lonely and wants a friend. He wouldn’t kill anyone I’ve asked him not to, and all in exchange for my freedom and long lost sense of half-baked normalcy. I can’t kill him because I’m a chicken shit coward with morality issues whose fallen head over heels in love with the worst person in the world. Oh, and he’s probably already planned out my murder for pure funsies.” was what Will desperately wanted to say, not that Jack would believe a word of it. What Will actually said was “Stability requires a strong foundation, Jack. My moorings are built in the sand with you.”

“I am not sand. I am bedrock. Even
when you are doubting yourself, you don’t have to doubt me.” Jack said, leaving Will monetarily speechless in awe at the agent’s utter audacity and general obliviousness. “Lecter is too involved.” Jack had the gall to add.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have talked shop at that damn dinner party then.” Will shot back, “He’s involved for his own reasons, his main one being me.”

“Do you feel like yourself with him around?” Jack asked, Will feeling that was too personal a question to really answer.

“How the hell am I supposed to answer that? Do you feel like yourself around your wife?”

“Will,”

“Does it really matter as long as I can catch the bad guy of week for you?” Will answered flippantly, not caring as Jack’s expression darkened.

“Your personality has changed.” Jack said, like he would be the prime expert in the matter.

“Has it?” Will was already bored and done with this conversation. Jack was nowhere the master of manipulation that Hannibal was.

“I don’t know how to gauge who you are anymore. You don’t feel like yourself to me. I feel like you’ve been gradually becoming different for a while now. To the point that you just feel like somebody else.” Jack continued, stirring up embers of anger within Will. Enough so that they began to spark all on their own.

“What exactly are you trying to say, Jack? That I’m going crazy?” There was a warning there in Will’s words, the stir of heat catching to ignite from the white hot rage that was trying to outrun his adrenaline.

“That is what you fear most.” Jack presumed, sagely nodding his head. In that moment, Will realized that he had never wanted to hit another human being more in his life, and that’s was saying something because he knew Hannibal.

“No, Jack. No, it is not. I fear not knowing who I am.” Will snapped, barely keeping himself in check. The body listened, arms and legs remaining still, but his mouth took the opportunity to run. “It’s also what Abel Gideon’s afraid of. He’s like a blind man. Somebody got inside his head and moved all the furniture around. I imagine Abel Gideon would want to find the Chesapeake Ripper to gauge who he is, and who he isn’t.”

“Will, you have me as your gauge.” Jack tried to soothe.

“Oh really? Just like suddenly you’re my bedrock?” Will spat out the words like putrid phlegm that kept getting stuck to the back of his throat. He waited until they were stopped at a light, Will taking the opportunity to hop out of the vehicle before Jack could utter another weak platitude or inane assumption. “Go one without me. I’ll grab an Uber.”

Jack looked like he wanted to argue or drag Will back into the car, but the light changed on him. That, and Will pointedly crossed the street to wait for his new ride, phone already in hand. When he arrived, Will didn’t bother entering Alana’s house. He knew there would be no trace of Gideon in there. Upon leaving the Uber, Will went straight for the vast fields that backed up against Alana’s property. That’s where the team found him, kneeling in the snow as he studied the area around him.

“Gideon was here.” Will said, examined the footprints left in the snow out in the field behind Alana’s home, too close for comfort. Gideon had come in close enough to be worrisome, but it would appear that he had left in a hurry. Their warning had come in time, Gideon not risking recapture before all his work was done. Will knew he had bigger fish to fry. The team at Hannibal’s house voiced an “all-clear” as well.

“Alana is the more likely target. Gideon would stick out too much in Hannibal’s neck of the woods.” Will lied. Gideon hadn’t wasted a trip out here for nothing. This had been reconnaissance. He was confirming Alana’s location, that Chilton hadn’t lied to him. Gideon left because he needed all the advantage he could muster, something that only the fall of night could provide as he went after that bigger fish.

“I’ll assign some agents,” Jack began.

“That won’t be necessary. Hannibal’s place is more than secure, and I’ll be there for his protection.” Will cut him off.

“Will,” Jack started.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to Hannibal.” Will said, knowing it was true, damn him and his fortune fool’s heart. “And you’ve seen his place and its security system. It’s better than what most museums and banks have. Hell, his neighborhood is even patrolled by a private security company. Alana is the more definite target being far more vulnerable here so let’s not waste the time and the manpower.”

After a little bit more back and forth, Jack conceded. Will returned to Hannibal’s place to find him alone and cooking. He brightened noticeable when Will entered his domain, scooping a taste of whatever he was making onto a spoon.

“You’ll be happy to know that it’s just the two of us tonight. I begged off additional security. I see you did the same.” Will told him, pausing to taste some sort of white sauce for Hannibal. “That’s good, but I think it needs a smidge more salt.”

“Excellent.” Was all Hannibal said, looking pleased with himself about whatever.

“What are you smiling about?” Because it could really be over anything. A prolific violent serial killer coming over for dinner might be it, or Hannibal was just pleased about the food feedback. Dealer’s choice on that one, Will mused.

“Can’t one merely be happy with their existence? Fleeting as that state of being is?” Ah, violent prolific serial killer coming to dinner for the win.

“How much wine have you had?” Will asked, beginning to get worried what had Hannibal so over the moon about Gideon coming over. He was probably going to kill Gideon, but that was a given. No staggering revelations there.

“I wouldn’t sully our moment by being inebriated.” Hannibal said.

Ohhhhh…that didn’t sound good. Our moment? Our? Will knew sure as shit that he hadn’t signed up for any couple’s activities.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What do you think is happening here on this night?” Will asked, “I know you’re maybe, probably, definitely going to kill Gideon, but I’m not. Just to reiterate this once again, I am NOT killing anyone on purpose or actively participating in killing anyone.”

“Do you have issue with me killing Gideon? Will you attempt to stop me?”

“Absolutely not. Do whatever your little weirdo murderous heart desires to him.”

“I do so enjoy playing the good host.” Hannibal’s eyes sparkled as he delicately sipped his wine. “Especially to a most unusual guest.”

“An uninvited guest.” Will grunting as he accepted his own glass from the delighted host.

“Semantics and serendipity.” Hannibal said, “One does not examine the dental work of a gifted horse.”

“If you’re smart, you sure as hell do. Gifts can be concerning things, especially if they are decorated with attachments and other expectations along with the wrapping.” Will snorted. He couldn’t remember a time in his professional life where gifts appeared to be exactly what they were meant to be. Everyone seemed to want his time, energy, and insight while offering very little back in return for any of it.

Finishing his wine, Will abandoned his spot to start stalking out the back door.

“Where are you going? Why don’t you keep me company?” Hannibal called after him. Will didn’t know how to feel about the sight and sound of Chesapeake Ripper pouting.

“I’m going to go find a shady spot in your garden where Gideon is most likely going to try and slip in.”

“You might be there a while.” Hannibal was torn between sounding disappointed and excited. It was the kind of excitement that Will had observed in small children on Christmas Eve, that internal struggle of remaining ideally good while impatiently watching the clock.

“That’s fine. I’m prefer fishing over hunting for a good reason.” Will threw over his shoulder as he went out the back. He knew he had to nip this in the bud before he left though. “With fishing, you don’t have to kill what you catch.”

Hannibal was a professional at hiding himself and his demeanor, but Will was better. Hannibal’s hopes and dreams for him would not become real upon this night, not if Will had anything to do with it.

One couldn’t tell from the front, but there was quite a bit of land in the back of Hannibal’s baby mansion. There was enough room for a vegetable garden, a tiny perfect greenhouse for delicate hothouse flowers and a weird yet concerning looking strain of marijuana, and a smattering of fruit trees such as apple, pear, and fig. There was even a small tranquility pond with its own little expertly carved bridge. It was stocked with koi fish that Will found out he loved to feed. The large Koi was were so affectionate that they would beg for pets.

The boundaries of the property was hidden by large trees and high hedges, Hannibal obviously valuing to protect his privacy. It also gave Will plenty of places to hide as he settled in to patiently wait for Gideon to turn up.

He did not disappoint or make Will wait too long.

“I was expecting the Chesapeake
Ripper.” Gideon might be crazier than an outhouse rat, but he was keen enough to recognize that Will was a real threat. One that had him at a considerable disadvantage while at gunpoint. “Or are you him?”

“I’ve come to let you know that you’re invited to dinner.” Will said, his lips quirking up into a slight smile. It still sounded so absurd, even now.

“Can’t say I was expecting that. I’m afraid I’m not really dressed for the occasion.” Gideon was caught off guard too, but was rolling with it. Catching a bullet for being a pain in the ass wasn’t too high on Gideon’s agenda for this evening, not at the moment anyway.

“I assure you. That’s the very least of your worries.” Will promised.

“I feel inclined to believe you.” Gideon said thoughtfully as he looked Will up and down before giving him a slight bow. “Shall we?”

“Age before beauty.” Will motioned Gideon to walk ahead of him. He sure as shit wasn’t about to let Gideon get behind him

“You’re not wrong.” Gideon the loon chuckled.

“Hello, Doctor Gideon.” Hannibal said calmly as they entered, “Come. Join us for some late night repast.”

“You don’t appear to be all too perturbed by my sudden appearance.” Gideon said, “Didn’t take you for a masochist.”

“He’s not. He’s a sadist.” Will said as he pressed the gun nozzle warningly to Gideon’s back. Now that they had an extra pair of hands, Hannibal finished up by completely disarming Gideon, efficiently stripping the man of anything else that might prove to be a nuisance.

“I’ll refrain from making any ‘while you’re down there’ jokes then.” Gideon said as he was made to take off his shoes and socks after being surgeon thoroughly patted down.

“Hey, I’ve never seen anyone castrated with teeth before, but there’s always a first time for everything.” Will warned.

“If he’s the Big Bad, what does that make you then?” Gideon said, “Yet to be determined?”

“Irritable.” Will decided, “And trigger happy.”

“That’s understandable. I’ve seem to have interrupted your meal.”

“Not at all. We’ve been expecting you. Please, take a seat.” Hannibal offered, satisfied with Gideon’s inability to hurt either of them or be a threat.

“Thank you.” There would be no pieces of cutlery embedded in the man’s skin this time around. “Considering how you checked out every nook in my cranny, I’ve more than earned it. Haven’t seen this much action in years.” Gideon said, watching his strange company as the others took their seats. The gun was still being trained on him, Will taking a seat across from as Hannibal took his usual place at the head of the table.

“Seems I should have gone after Doctor Bloom after all.” Gideon was trying to get a rise out of them. He was getting nothing back to work with. Hannibal was more stone-faced than usual, and Will was just a pretty even keel between tired, annoyed, and pissed off to accompany his usual daily baseline of stress. “On the other hand, I doubt she would have laid out snacks for me. Very considerate of you.”

“I always try to do my best by others. Are you still claiming to be the Chesapeake Ripper?” Hannibal asked as they all started in on the Chesapeake Ripper’s version of finger food. The rather impressive charcuterie board offered up cheese, crackers, nuts, fruit, dried meat, dark chocolate, and some Peter pâté was being paired with a lovely Sauvignon Blanc to tide everyone over.

And because it was Hannibal, there was an entire separate plate, filled to the brim of its porcelain with seasoned grilled bones, split down their ivory centers to reveal the glistening fragrant marrow inside. Despite the elaborate setup, Hannibal was all business for once.

“Oh my, is that lavender? How decadent.” Gideon mused as he studied the selection which did include a sprig of freshly cut lavender sticking out of a soft cheese of some kind, Brie perhaps.

“Answer the question.” There was definitely a warning there from Hannibal, one that would not be repeated in such a calm, non-murdery manner.

“Why do you say claiming? I am.” Gideon said with a smug grin, emphasizing the point by eating a grape so dark it was almost black. It made Hannibal set down his cutlery very neatly, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. He might as well been drawing a sword from the way he folded and set his napkin neatly off to the side.

“Because you’re not. You know
you’re not and you don’t know much more about who you are beyond that.” Hannibal said in tone of voice that dared anyone, even the Almighty, to argue with him. He was being so flat and direct that it nearly knocked Will for a loop. Despite that, Will absorbed what was going on. Hannibal seemed to be overly attached and protective of his other persona. This was a weakness, a chink in his armor, a tear in his person suit. Will filed that fact away for later examination.

Gideon was struck quiet and dumb by the withering assessment as well. He sipped his wine, his eyes never leaving his host.

“A terrible thing to have your identity taken from you.” Hannibal continued in a far more mellow tone. No one was fooled by it.

“I’m taking it back one piece at a
time. You should see the pieces I got out of my psychiatrist.” Will had to give credit where credit was due. Gideon might be crazy, but he had brass balls the size of coconuts.

“Alana Bloom was one of your
psychiatrists, too. Isn’t that right?” Hannibal goaded.

“Yes. The lovely Dr. Bloom.” Gideon leered, setting Will’s teeth on edge.

“That’s unfortunate.” Hannibal said, whatever the hell that meant.

“Yes, it is. For her, anyway.” Which was ultimately what got Gideon shot, Will putting several slugs into the other man’s shoulder without warning. Gideon flew out of the chair, landing into a noisy heap upon the floor. Ignoring the sudden fuss, Hannibal frowned over at Will.

“That was unnecessary.” Hannibal admonished, giving Will a complex look of annoyance. “You said I could do whatever I wanted with him.”

“Yeah, well, you took too long with your fussy bullshit.” Will said as he looked over to study the newly seasoned herbs Hannibal grew out of his dining room wall.

“There is blood all over my herbs now.”

“Like that matters. They look fine…ish, other than the blood spray of course.”

“They’ll have GSR on them as well as the blood. They’ll be taken in as evidence.” Hannibal grimaced, he too studying the drenched foliage.

“Free seasoning?” Will shrugged to get a bark of laugher from Gideon and a sullen look from Hannibal.

“He didn’t even get to try the pâté.”

“He’ll live. You both will.” Will said, helping himself to the person pâté now that Gideon was out of commission. It was sinfully decadent when paired with the seasoned bone marrow when drizzled over it. Despite its origins, the meal got a little sigh of happiness out of him.

“That’s debatable the longer you put off calling 911.” Gideon reminded them from the floor. “At the very least, could you pass me down the wine? I’d rather not talk to Agent Crawford sober.”

“You’re a surgeon. Figure it out.” Will said, doing just that. Calling 911 and the team, not playing host. Hannibal did that, retrieving Gideon’s glass for him. He slugged the wine down like cheap liquor. Will couldn’t make himself care or stir up the energy to give a damn. He didn’t enjoy talking to Jack while sober either.

“Was a surgeon. You need both hands for surgery, and you, Mister Graham, have made my left arm as useless as an euach at an orgy.” Gideon huffed out hurt as he climbed to his feet in a stiff pained manner. He drank down some more wine before snagging a napkin off the table to apply pressure to his wounds. “Good grouping. You’ve been practicing.”

“Thank you?”

“I am curious about one thing though.” Gideon rasped out.

“Better make it quick. Jack and the rest are already on their way.” Will said, setting his gun aside, but kept it near at hand. Will hadn’t realized how hungry he was, hungry enough to suck the jelly out of some poor bastard’s bones and spread their liver out over some tiny ass toast. The baby toast probably had a super fancy name. Will focused on that as he tried not to feel like a deranged hypocrite.

“Why not just kill me?” Gideon asked with a crooked grin before nodding over at a glowering Hannibal. “This is practically chopping at the bit to do so.”

“I am rather curious about that myself.” Hannibal added. Gideon had been stating the obvious. One didn’t need to be an empath to deduce that Hannibal wasn’t a happy camper. Will knew he had ruined all the fun by shooting Gideon like that, non-fatally like a complete spoilsport, before calling the proper authorities. All this instead of just letting Hannibal playing sadistic cat and mouse games before ultimately making Gideon someone else’s problem in the afterlife.

“Because I’m not like you, either of you.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Gideon chuckled, turning back to his host as he sat down heavily in his seat, Gideon wincing as he did so. He polished off the last of his wine to hold out the glass. “More wine? Not going to get this kind of quality back in the clink.”

“Of course, but I really must insist that you have some of the pâté to go along with it.”

Chapter Text

There was a human ear in his kitchen sink.

Will stared down at it. Alana stared down at it, as did Jack and Hannibal, the absolute fucker.

Waking up sweaty, nauseous, and sick, Will had rushed over to the first nearest sink. That had happened to be in the kitchen because Will had gone looking for Hannibal to ask him what the fuck he had given him, and wouldn’t you know, for once in his life, Will had actual guests in his house when it happened. Jack and Alana stared over at him in concern with their cups full of excellent coffee. The source of their unexpected morning invite looked on as well, Hannibal feigning all the right reactions along with them, which included rushing over to the sink.

“That is some immaculate fucking timing.” Will thought as he wiped rancid spittle from his mouth. The ear had made a odd sound when it hit the sink, and Will hadn’t helped matters by staring down at it like an idiot. Will was pretty sure Hannibal would have dramatically picked up the ear to hold it aloft, maybe even wave it around, if Alana and Jack hadn’t joined them.

If he had been quicker, more mentally aware, Will realized that he could have simply gotten rid of it, or used the damn bathroom, but in all fairness to himself, it was an ear. An entire fucking ear coming out of his body first thing in the morning, even before he’d had his damn coffee. That, and people he had not invited or expected to be there were present to witness his downfall as well.

Feeling absolutely fucked, and not in the good way, Will felt his legs begin to give out so he brushed past everyone to stumble outside, sitting down heavily on his porch stairs. There, Will continued to retch until his throat and mouth burned and his middle was an emptied knot of pain. The winter air was doing wonders for his nausea though, Will beginning to shiver from exposure to the frigid elements.

A thick blanket was gently placed over his shoulders, Will didn’t know by whom though he had a pretty good idea. A mug of fresh coffee and some buttered toast was placed beside him as well. Will wasn’t sure anymore if Hannibal was just playing the part of the concerned partner, or if these were actually small sincere gestures of apology for the inevitable.

“Will, you can’t run from this. It will only make things worse.” Hannibal warned softly from somewhere behind him. Will didn’t know what or how to say anything right now, especially to the Chesapeake Ripper, so he stared off into the distance and listened to the winter quiet of his land. A jingle of tags signaled that Will was soon joined by Winston, the canine sitting down beside him with a heavy sigh. Buster joined them, but just long enough to steal Will’s toast and run off with it.

“Yeah, I know, buddy.” Will said softly, reaching over to hold the fluffy dog close to him. “I’m sorry, Winston.”

If he wanted to survive this, Will knew he had to stop rationalizing that the Chesapeake Ripper had any warm and fuzzy emotions attached to him. Will decided he was just another cog in the machine Hannibal had designed to destroy Jack. He had worth, and would remain alive while he did so. Nothing more, nothing less, a distraction that would be checked in and out of a mental ward before being permanently checked out of life.

It had finally begun. Hannibal had kicked off his end game for Jack, whatever that may be, and the Chesapeake Ripper had kicked it off one hell of an opening move. It was almost a relief really, Will told himself. The big horrible thing was finally upon him. No more waiting and overthinking about the when and where. All Will had to do was survive it now, a daunting task, but still a viable one at this point, if he was clever and quick enough to do so.

Drinking his last chance for good coffee in probably a long while, Will stopped really paying attention to anything from that point on. There was nothing to be done on his end, and he was quite knowledgeable about what came next.

Will knew that he couldn’t explain why he had just vomited up a human ear. Hell, he didn’t even know whose ear it belonged to. That wouldn’t sit well with Jack. Will might be concerned about the midnight snack, but Hannibal was always careful with what he put into their bodies.

Will wondered how the hell Hannibal had managed to pull off this stunt. They certainly hadn’t had ears last night for dinner. Hannibal had surprised Will by showing up in Wolf Trap after being out of town for a conference, which in retrospect was probably mostly a lie so Hannibal couldn’t provide an alibi for him and still do what he needed to be done to Will without suspicion.

The freak of nature more than likely went to some legit event, skipped sleeping, drove out to Wolf Trap, made Will dinner, and at some point in the night, EAR. Hannibal’s ability to multitask was truly daunting, Will admitted to himself.

Looking through his immaculate memory, Will noted that the ear, with the exception of its ragged seam, it had no other markings on it. It was just a raw ear cut straight off of some poor soul’s head. Will tried to work out how it had gotten in him without his knowledge, but his mind lingered over the ear, honing in on it. There was a mistake there. Hannibal had finally made a mistake.

“What are we going to find in your house?” Jack asked, intruding on the last moments of Will’s inner peace and epiphany. The team, Animal Control, and all the rest of the FBI fanfare were beginning to pull up into his yard. This three-ring circus was almost ready to open for business.

“I don’t know.” Will answered him in all honesty. Because there was always more with Hannibal, not that he could tell Jack that.

“Process him.” Was the only thing Jack barked at an agent as Zeller, Price, and Beverly approached what was now their new crime scene.

Will was silent and offered no resistance when he was put into handcuffs and placed in the back of a secured vehicle. The whole time, Will was aware that others were trying to talk to him, get him to talk. Jack was a bright point of rage and astonished betrayal. Alana clothed her voice in sorrow and loss, but then she had been expecting something like this to happen. Hannibal remained calm, a fixed point, gently guiding the narrative along, but then he would be.

All Will felt was numb. Truly numb. As they departed, Will leaned his head against the cold glass, watching as his house, dogs, and former life faded away from his view. Even if he somehow managed to return to here, he would never be the same again. Nothing would be after this. This was the beginning of an end for him.

The team processed him, keeping it professional while trying to tap down mixed emotions as they went through the motions. Zeller’s demeanor was angry, Beverly was in a state of disbelief, and Price just looked sad. Will was really very proud of them for keeping it together as well as they did as awkward as it was for everyone. Someone else should have done this to him, for him, but Will was gratefully that it was them. He would be having more than enough strangers manhandling him from this point on.

It was all manageable until Will was alone-ish with Beverly as she collected trace out from under his fingernails and combed his hair.

“I can’t do the silent treatment. I
can’t pretend I don’t know you and I can’t pretend we don’t both know what I’m finding under your nails.” Beverly broke the silence first as she scraped flecks of rust out from under Will’s fingernails. They both knew what that signified. “This blood is real, Will.”

“I know.” Will managed out. He hadn’t spoken to anyone since he got here, throat tight and dry as if he had been sucking on a sandpaper cough drop. Hannibal really had thought of everything, well, almost everything. There were even what looked to be defensive scratches on his arms.

“Do you know how it got there?” Beverly asked. She so desperately wanted to believe that he was innocent.

“Not with any certainty you will believe, no.” Will knew he had to make a decision about her and needed to do it quickly and correctly it he wanted to make it work.

“Certainty comes from the evidence.
I didn’t want to find any evidence on you. I wanted to be certain about who you are.”

“I want that as well.”

“But you can’t even be certain about yourself right now.”

“Not anymore, but it’s not that simple.”

“So make it simple. What happened?”

“There is a lot more going on behind the scenes than you realize. I can’t simplify it, not now and possibly not ever, but you have to believe me that it’s to keep others safe, yourself included.” Will knew he needed allies. Hannibal probably realized that as well so he had to be ever so careful. Too much information would make anyone attempting to help Will a victim of the Chesapeake Ripper. Not enough information might only strengthen their distrust in him. Beverly had a keen, overly curious mind. That could be an advantage to him or a detriment to her if he screwed this all up by not walking the knife’s edge carefully enough for the both of them. Only time would tell on that one.

“How long have you been lying about what’s going on with you?” Beverly was wonderfully quick.

“I wasn’t lying --“ Will tried to start.

“You knew…something. You should have recused yourself from
any investigation. You were irresponsible and now someone is dead.”

“That is yet to be determined. You can lose an ear without becoming a corpse.” As far as Will knew, there wasn’t a body without an ear awaiting in the lab to damn him. Not that he would have been surprised if there was one.

“You always said all you do is
interpret the evidence. So do it, Will. Interpret the evidence.” Beverly said as she stepped back, obviously angry with him.

“According to the evidence, I killed someone, or at least, tried to.” Will said softly, pleadingly, “I realize this. I know how bad this all looks. All I ask is that you look at the ear, I mean really look at it. The ear is the key to this. Once you realize what is missing from it, please come find me. If you find what’s missing from the ear for yourself, you’ll believe me. You’ll believe I’m innocent.”

“I hope so. However far over the edge you were leaning, I was hoping that you wouldn’t fall.” Beverly voiced the concern what was really troubling her. “I failed you. We all did.”

“I know it’s hard to believe right now, but I didn’t. I never fell. You didn’t fail me.” Will said, “Once you realize some things on your own, I need you to get Freddie Lounds to come see me. This is vital to my survival.”

“You’re insane.”

“No, I’m desperate. There’s a difference.” Will said, getting a bark of surprised laughter from Beverly.

“Bev, I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a killer.” He said softly, hating to ruin this small moment of levity between them. “I swear, I’m not.”

“I’m going to kill you if you end up breaking my heart.”

“You’ll know where to find me, and how to hide a body.”

“Yeah.”

“There is something you should be very afraid of, terrified even, and that’s whoever is doing this to me.” Will warned.

“Someone is doing this to you? Is
that what this is? A set up?”

“They’ll be close to the team. It could be someone here. Working with you. They know the cases. They know forensics. They know about me.” Was the best Will could do for her.

“Jesus, do you hear how paranoid you sound?”

“Well, yeah. That’s why I’m telling you and not anyone else.” Will told her, “Look at the ear, and then decide your next move. If you can’t trust me, please keep yourself safe.”

Eventually after many longs hours of being shifted from one small grey room to another, Will was put into a familiar interrogation room with Jack, the man himself glaring balefully at him from across the table.

“You’re sick, Will.” Was Jack’s starting off point for the interrogation. “ We’re going to move you to a secure medical ward where we will find out what’s wrong with you. Get you the treatment you need.”

“Why?” Will had assumed he was going directly to jail.

“Doctor Bloom seems to think that your encephalitis might have come back, that your brain is on fire. That you’re not responsible for what you did.” Jack was obviously not convinced of this.

“And then what? Baltimore State
Hospital for the Criminally Insane? Have Chilton fumbling at my head?” Will spat back, bless Alana’s heart despite everything. She was reaching, and they all knew it. “I’m not sick, and I’m not crazy.”

“This job doesn’t generally lend
itself to optimism. I desperately want to be optimistic about an alternative to what every fiber of evidence is telling me you did.”

“I’m not going to confess to something I didn’t do.”

“Then maybe you can start explaining to me why you regurgitated an ear?” Jack growled, “Even better yet, why don’t you tell me about your fishing lures?”

“My fishing lures? What about them?” Will was surprised into talking. He hadn’t been planning to say much else. No need to waste his words on someone who wouldn’t listen to them anyway.

“You didn’t think that we would find them?”

“Well, I would hope so, considering they’re right by the front door. Hell, you can see them through the living room window.” Will said, “What am I missing here?”

“Then maybe you should be explaining to me why your lures are made with human body parts.”

That was unexpected, much like a skimming kick to the balls, meaning it hurt way more than it should have. Fucking Hannibal. “What?”

“We found human remains in the
materials you used to make them. Cassie Boyle. Marissa Schuur. Tobias Budge.”

I’m going to kill him, I’m going to fucking kill him, Will thought as he worked to keep himself from reacting. He needed to stick to his original plan of gathering information while keeping his own plans secret.

“I wasn’t sick with encephalitis when Cassie Boyle was murdered. I wasn’t sick when Marissa Schuur was murdered, or when Tobias Budge was murdered.” Will said.

“That’s not an argument you want to
be making right now. Not to me.” Jack said, “Especially when we take Tobias Budge into consideration, how he died, how he was staged.”

‘Just like the Ripper’ was left to hang in the air unsaid.

“Because then I’d be a psychopath.” Will said, “The psychopath that you’ve been looking for all this time.”

“I’m not ready to go there just yet.” Jack sighed. He did not want his broken pony to be any more than that. “My biggest fear is learning you knew what you were doing all along.”

“Don’t have to be afraid of that,
Jack. Despite all the evidence, I’m not crazy or a killer.” Will said, “You know what your problem is? You keep asking all the wrong questions. You should be asking how, not why. You’re never going to figure this out if you keep looking for things in the wrong direction.”

“What about the where? Like where is Abigail Hobbs?”

“I have no idea. Why would I know that?” Will had a very bad feeling about this. Oh no…

“Because it’s Abigail’s ear that is currently in evidence. The one we collected from your kitchen sink.”

“Oh.” Well, okay then. That was a damn fine reason to be asking that question. Will couldn’t fault Jack there. He wondered vaguely if Abigail was actually dead or not. He would have plenty of time to mull it over later.

“If that’s all you gotta say,” Jack huffed, misinterpreting Will’s sudden bout of silence.

“No. I actually want to say a few things.” Will said more calmly than he felt. “I didn’t do it, any of it. I’ve never killed anyone. I’m being framed for everything. Oh, and I want a lawyer.”

“Will,”

“No. Fuck off. I’m done talking to you.” Was very satisfying to say, Will staring Jack down squarely in the eyes. The agent tried to pick a different line of questioning, but Will remained silently guarded, sightlessly staring off into the distance.

“I believe Will is innocent.” Hannibal said from behind the darkened one-way glass. He knew once Will started to dissociate that any further attempts at conversation would be a waste of time. When he chose to, Will could seal himself away into his mind better than even Hannibal could with his own. It was so impressive that it left Hannibal feeling a bit breathless as he admired Will from afar. “You have known him far longer than I have. Do you really have so little faith in dear Will?”

“I want to believe that he’s innocent, but there is a part of me that is well aware about just how capable Will is.” Alana said, her being a coil about to spring. She was so wound up that it wouldn’t take much to set her off. “Will has a rare sort of mind. If he got overwhelmed, it’s entirely possible.”

“You could say that about anyone placed in the right situation, but this wasn’t some perfect storm that suddenly descended upon Will. Something has been done to him.” Hannibal said in all honesty. Most people generally didn’t realize how well one could equivocate a situation by simply telling a truth.

“Do you really believe that?” Alana turned to look up at him with pleading eyes.

“Yes. I have the utmost faith in Will.” Also another truth, Hannibal allowing his sincerity to be a tangible thing. “If you wish to help him, Alana, you must rediscover that for yourself, in yourself. Be the kind friend I know you are. Will will need all the help he can get.”

Yet another truth.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Alana’s resolve began to restore itself as she tucked her frayed edges back in. “I’ve just been so worried that this exact thing would happen for so long. I’m assuming the worst while losing sight of Will’s best.”

“Completely understandable, but I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.” Hannibal said because a little guilt was alway fun to stir up, mental scarring a forever thing. “I think it’s about time we spoke with Jack.”

Like the Devil hearing his own name, Jack appeared, joining them in their viewing of Will. Hannibal was amused to note that Jack kept some space between himself and Alana, the latter beginning to look as if violence was the answer.

“We analyzed the tissue. It matched Abigail Hobbs. It was her ear. Her
blood was under Will’s fingernails. Scratches on his arms look like defensive wounds. She fought back—“ Jack said to be cut short.

“Shut up.” Alana was doing her best not to cry, struggling with the information. She said “Just stop talking.” when Jack tried again, he voice hoarse and strained. She reminded Hannibal of a bear trap, one that was loaded to tear and maim. Hannibal amused himself by wondering if he could subtly goad her into stabbing Jack with a pen.

“You said. He won’t. Get too close.” Alana’s rage made her beautiful, with bright eyes and flushed cheeks. Anger tended to twist people ugly, but pure rage could make them blossom like magma shooting out of cracked rock. “You said you would cover him. You could see he was breaking!

“Yes, I could.” Jack was bracing himself like a man lashing himself to the bow of a ship in a storm. “And I kept pushing him because he was saving lives.”

“Not Abigail Hobbs’ life.” Alana seethed.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you
couldn’t see he was breaking.” Jack’s diversionary tactics were laughable, especially when one considered his current company. Both Hannibal and Alana were highly regarded in their professions. Jack was completely out of his depth with them.

“Of course I could see it!” Alana yelled, all patience finally spent. “I told you not to put him out there! I told you REPEATEDLY not to put him out there!”

“Every decision I made about Will
Graham’s mental health was under the advisement of a respected psychiatrist, who you recommended.” Jack tried to spin next.

“Will is my partner, not my patient.” Hannibal corrected, “And he is fully capable of making his own decisions. I may not like those decisions or think they are wise, but I must respect them. You wouldn't tell your Bella how to do her job. Why would you expect me to do otherwise? I can advise, Will, but that is all.”

“Don’t try to blame Hannibal for this! He’s told you flat out that Will shouldn’t be in the field as well, numerous times I might add!” Alana yelled, “Of course Hannibal knew. He saw something was wrong! You ignored everything I had to say, and you did the same to him!”

“Well maybe he should have spoken up sooner before it was too late.” Jack wasn’t good at handling guilt, “Just like the rest of us.”

“Will is either capable of making his own decisions, in which case we have to respect his choices, or else Will is too incompetent to make his own decisions, in which you knew about this all along, and yet still chose to push a compromised unqualified agent out into the field anyway. Which is it? You can’t have it both ways, Jack.” Hannibal countered.

“So which is it,Jack?” Alana all but snarled, “We have to find out what’s causing this episode and treat it.”

“My concern is that there may not
be anything to treat. Are you really going to double down on Will having encephalitis again?” Jack shot back.

“He does not.” Hannibal said, “I would know.”

“While I respect your extraordinary olfactory senses, I still want to clear Will of it.” Alana was trying to buy Will time so Hannibal took no insult. “This all started with Garret Jacob Hobbs.”

“Maybe Will did what Garret Jacob
Hobbs couldn’t do.” Jack seemed determined to dump the guilt bothering him out upon Will. Jack felt if Will was guilty of something, it could hardly be all his fault. “Kill his daughter.”

“Dead or alive, Abigail’s blood is on all of us.” Alana said.

Hannibal nodded. “And so is Will’s.”

Chapter Text

“How’s your gag reflex?”

Will blinked up at Beverly. “I’ve never had any complaints.”

“Answer the question.”

“Normal for the most part. You wanna check?”

“Actually, yeah, I do. Open up.” Beverly ordered. Will obliged, his eyes beginning to water as fingers were pressed in. Beverly stopped as soon as she felt his neck muscles contract.

“How the hell did you eat an entire ear without nicking it once with your teeth?” Will could have kissed her. Beverly had found the clue.

“The simplest answer to that is I, in fact, did not.” Will said, doing his best to keep his budding hope and excitement in check. The ear hadn’t been prepared or even cooked. It was just a raw ear cut straight off of some poor soul’s head. They also weren’t a convenient shape, size, or texture to snack on.

“How did it get in you then? Any ideas? Have you reconstructed it yet?”

“Drugs and some tubing as far as I can come up with.” Will reasoned out, “Been putting off a deep dive into my memory. I have the distinct feeling that it won’t be pleasant to recall in detail.”

“You get drugged up, a tube gets shoved down your throat, and you’re force-fed an ear? Sounds insane.” Beverly shook her head, but still took a seat directly across from him. Despite her words, Will could tell that she was running on high gear now, buzzing within her own skin. Beverly was as focused and intent as Will had ever seen her.

“I know, but good place for it.” Will made a small gesture around them. They were sealed in what Will had dubbed the “Matrix Mind Egg Room”. The name didn’t exactly roll off of the tongue, but it did keep anyone else from listening in on their conversations. Chilton hadn’t counted on Will being so popular, spending a surprising chunk of time in the Egg. Alana was busy trying to find a lawyer for him because Will kept firing whoever the FBI provided for his defense.

“Only because I tried swallowing one whole.” Beverly admitted ruefully, her face breaking out into a grin. “Gummy ears, not real ones.”

“How did that go?” Of course she had. Probably threw them up too, all in the name of science and most importantly of all, being right.

“I couldn’t swallow a single one without putting some sort of teeth marks into it.”

“Your conclusion?”

“I now know that it’s extremely difficult to swallow something that size and texture without some sort of dental markers or damage occurring.” Beverly said, “The ear in your sink was completely intact. The only way that could happen was if you completely bypassed your mouth, which makes no sense. The more I think about it, the whole ‘throwing up that ear when you did’ just feels so staged to me.”

“Have you shared this insight with anyone else?” Any humor left Will’s face as he clasped his hands together, leaning forward in all seriousness.

“No. I wanted to talk to you first.” Beverly did the same, mirroring him.

“Then don’t. Not with the team. Not with Jack, Hannibal, Alana, your folks, your priest. No one. If you want to keep them alive, tell no one.”

“Will, what the hell is going on?”

“You’re really going to hate this next part.” Will chuckled as he leaned back to study Beverly.

“I hate this entire situation already. Tell me anyway.”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Damnit, Will!” Beverly shouted, slapping the table.

“Bev, it’s too fucking dangerous. Believe me when I say that you will get killed, horribly I might add, if you get caught helping me in any way, shape, or form.” Will laid it out for her.

“By who?!” Beverly looked about ready to leap over the table and beat some sense into him.

“By the person who put me here. By the person who drugged me and shoved an ear down into my stomach. By a killer who is elaborate.” Will gave her enough to make the connection. He knew it down to the second the moment when realization hit Beverly like a brick to the forehead.

“Oh god—“ she gasped, eyes wide.

“Don’t…don’t say it aloud.” Will hushed.

“You know—“ In all fairness to Beverly, it was a lot to take in.

“Yes, and no, I still can’t tell you. I have to warn you that you now know too much. I might have already marked you for death. I am so sorry, but I need allies, ones that I can trust.” Will said, “If you need to walk away, now is the time to do it.”

“Like that’s going to happen.”

“Bev, if you’re not careful.” Will leveled a hard look at her, “You need to take this seriously. I don’t know what I would do if…”

He trailed off, turning away as his colorful treacherous mind playing out all the possible scenarios that might happen if Beverly was compromised. Will swallowed hard, growing unsure about his plan now. It was one thing to risk himself. Risking others…Will wasn’t sure he had it in him to do that.

“Will,” His name made Will look back over at Beverly. “I’m not going anywhere.” Was what made him tear up.

“Hey, none of that. I’m an ugly crier. I get all blotchy and puffy, my eyes seal shut.” Beverly said she reached over to brush under Will’s eyes with her thumb, much like how a mother would do for a small upset child. “What about Hannibal? Why not ask him for help?”

“He’s too close to this.” Will lied without doing so. “It’s too dangerous. You especially can’t say anything to him. You know from experience how intuitive he is.”

“Damn, you’re right, and he’s basically your husband.” Beverly created her own reason, Will breathing a little sigh of relief over it. “Best not make him or you a widower in the worst way possible.

“Yeah. Stay as far away as possible from him.” Will said quietly as he watched Beverly’s head try not to explode from all the possibilities running ragged through it.

“It has to be someone working for the FBI. Oh my god, that makes total sense. He’s been meddling with the investigations this entire time,” Beverly was definitely going down rabbit holes.

“Bev, Bev, BEV!” Will wasn’t about to let that happen.

“What?!” Beverly snapped back.

“You gotta stop. You can’t dwell on this. Don’t think about it.” Will said.

“How can you say that? We’ve got to get you out of here. We have to—“

“We don’t. We can’t. We won’t.” Will shook his head, “You cannot investigate this revelation, or anything to do with my case. I was put in here for a reason. When it’s time for me to leave, I will be allowed to do so.”

“You’re putting a whole lot of trust in the king of murderous sadists.”

“It’s more like a passing wish on a shooting or a coin flip called by the Devil, but yes, I realize that.”

“Okay, so you have an ally in me. Why tell me anything if you don’t want my help?”

“I never said that. I need you to stay safe, but I definitely need your help.”

“Okay, how?”

“I need you to get Freddie Lounds to come see me.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that before,” Beverly said with open dismay, “So…What the hell is up with that?”

“Lounds has resources and contacts we do not. She also doesn’t work for the FBI, which is a huge advantage right now for us. She can keep off you-know-who’s radar while working on things for us.”

“Yeah, but…” Beverly resorted to hand gestures to express the complicated sentiment.

“I’m not thrilled about it either, but I feel I can trust Lounds.”

“Can you? Really?”

“For what I’m going to offer her for the assist, yes.”

“How much are you gonna tell her?”

“Dunno. Gonna play it by ear.”

“Ha-ha. I see sessions with Chilton are starting to affect you.” Beverly rolled her eyes at him, “How’s that going for you?”

“I can probably make him have an aneurysm before I get out of here.”

“I love your confidence about that.”

“Which part? Twenty bucks say I can get him to self-harm.”

“All of it.”

“Abigail still missing?”

“Oh yeah. She’s gone. We’ve got nothing.” Beverly said, “The prosecution is salivating for her body to turn up. It’s obscene.”

“I don’t think she’s dead.”

“So what? She’s just hanging out with Miriam Lass at the you-know-who’s place?”

“I don’t think she’s dead either.”

“What meds have they put you on?”

“I’m being serious. I think it’s very likely that Abigail is alive and well, missing an ear, yes, but I wouldn’t count her or Miriam Lass out just yet.”

“Yeah, it’s only been two years. You-know-who, okay, I can’t keep calling him that. Let’s just say Volemort or something.”

“Not a fan.”

“Really, Will? Actually, maybe you should be in here.” Beverly gave him an exasperated look, “Oggie Boogie?”

”What’s that from?”

“You’re killing me, Smalls.” Beverly quoted to get a blank face in return.“Seriously, nothing? We’re so having a movie night when you get out. What about Bruce?”

“Bruce?”

“It was the name they gave the mechanical shark from Jaws.”

“I like Bruce.” Will nodded, smiling softly. It was the kind of expression that Beverly treasured. Sometimes when you talked to Will, he would seem surprised to be included in conversations. It broke and warmed Beverly’s heart any time Will could join in. He was the most genuine person that she had ever met.

Given her mission, Beverly soon left. She hated to leave Will here, but she couldn’t help him by keeping him company. With the FBI’s resources, it wasn’t all too difficult to locate Lounds. Covering her tracks, Beverly drove out to the coffee shop the journalist seemed to prefer. She found Lounds tucked into a dark corner, tapping away at her laptop.

“We need to talk.”

“Ms. Katz, what do I owe for the pleasure of your company?” Lounds didn’t even bother to look up from her work, which appeared to be yet another article about Will.

“Will Graham.” That got Lounds’ attention.

“You can’t stop me writing about him. I have rights. I have—“ She started to say in rapid succession. Lounds paused when Beverly put up her hands in the universal gesture of peace.

“He wants you to come and see him.”

“Wait, what?” Lounds stared back at Beverly like she had suddenly grown a third boob.

“But only after you pass a test.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. What does that psychopath want?”

“Your help.”

“I haven’t had a conversation this gripping in years.” Lounds smiled, the expression sharp and hungry. “I’m intrigued. So what’s this little test of yours?”

“Here. Take a look at this.” Beverly sighed, producing a yellow folder.

“Is this The Ear?” Lounds all but gasped, honing in on it. Beverly gave the picture to her before she lost a hand.

“Yes. It can possibly prove that Will is innocent. The killer made a mistake. If you can figuure it out, Will will give you something you want in return for your help.” Beverly forced the offer out of her mouth.

“You don’t approve?” Lounds sounded more amused than bothered, arching a brow at her.

“Can’t say I’m a fan.” Beverly said flatly back, “I had better not see this pic being used as a thumbnail, or I’ll get creative. You won’t like creative. No one does. I’ve written my number on the back. Contact me if you can figure it out.”

“Not when I figure it out?” Lounds all but cooed back.

“For whatever reason, Will has confidence in your abilities.”

“And you don’t.” It wasn’t a question.

“Impress me, and I might begin to take you seriously.”

Lounds smirked, already putting Beverly’s contact information into her phone. “Like I’ve never heard that before. Challenge accepted.”

Chapter Text

“Ms. Lounds.”

“Will Graham.” Freddie wore her outfits like “trick of the light” armor. They were both a tool and a distraction. Today’s defense was a a striking black and white ensemble. “How ever did you manage to swallow an entire ear so perfectly like that?”

“I’m sure you have your own theories about that.”

“I do, but I leaning more towards the ones where you’re astoundingly innocent.” Lounds remained standing. Even though Will was shackled to the table, she kept her distance from him. “Imagine my surprise.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“I have to say, it’s good to see you again, Will. Let me rephrase that. It's good to see you in here. Where you belong.” Lounds gloated. Will knew he would have been disappointed if she hadn’t.

“Thank you for coming.” Will said with a soft smile that ruined Lounds’ mood, the woman scowling over at him as she set up her tape recorder.

“Why am I here?” Lounds demanded.

“Because I need help.” Will had to admit to himself that he thoroughly enjoyed Lounds’ look of surprise. “And you have a wide readership. Your demographic is murderers and people obsessed with murderers.”

“I’m flattered, but why would I help you? Just because I think you might be innocent doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be in here for the greater good.” Lounds shot back.

“Wouldn’t you like to have the scoop on high profile cases?” Will was counting on her being more greedy than spiteful.

“I’m listening.” Greed could be a beautiful thing sometimes.

“Think about it. The FBI can’t and won’t listen to me for insight, but you can.”

“Are you seriously offering to be my murder whisperer gimp? You’re truly out of your damn mind if you think I’m going to feed into your sick obsession.” Lounds said sharply as she crossed her arms over her chest. Will was unsure if she was cold or just needed personal comfort.

“Coming from the person whose entire job is writing about murder.” Will pointed out with a look that clearly told Lounds that she was being an idiot. “That’s a little hypocritical, don’t you think? Our jobs, both of them, are centralized in and around death.”

Lounds considered him for a long moment, the journalist deep in thought. “What’s your offer?”

“I’m offering you a chance to possibly solve cases before the FBI does, and to certainly have the whole story before anyone else does.”

“And how would I do that?” The bait was too tantalizing for Lounds to ignore. Will knew he was a good fisherman.

“That’s where Beverly comes in. Obviously, she can’t let you keep or use any pictures of evidence for your work, but if you get to the end result before the FBI does, you can report on that all you want, take all the pictures you’d like. Just think about how that would boost your numbers.”

“Boost? They would skyrocket.” Dollar bill signs filled Lound’s glimpse into her possible future. It sounded almost too good to be true though, which was a warning unto itself. “So, what’s the catch?”

“You might end up getting murdered by the Ripper.” Will didn’t bother to dress it up, or make it into anything it was not.

Lounds studied Will’s face, searching for the non-existent punchline. “That’s one hell of a catch.”

“He will kill you if you interfere with his plans, or are perceived as a threat. If you can avoid those two things, you’ll be fine. Biggest story of your career or not, Freddie, it is in your best interest not to garner Bruce’s attention. I mean, I wouldn’t terrible mind if you did, but as you can see, I’m in a bit of a pickle so yes, I’m trying to prevent that.”

“By making me a target?”

“I never said it was a perfect plan, or even a good one.” Will pointed out.

“I want compensation.”

“My assets are not readily available to me so I’m going to assume it’s safe to say that it’s not money. What do you want in exchange?”

“I want exclusive rights to your story. You’re going to help me write a book, no, a series of books. I want your story and then your help solving cold case files.”

“I’m all yours, Freddie.”

“What is this plan that might get me killed?” Lounds asked.

“It’s more of a framework idea rather than an actual plan.. Kinda working blind here.” Will admitted, “Make sure you tell Chilton about the book series. He’s going to talk to you anyway before you leave, whether you want to or not.”

“Not sharing in group? Doctor Chilton must be so disappointed.”

“I’m hoping he’ll stroke out or have heart attack.” Will chuckled, “Beverly can’t come here as often as you. She’s a target too, and one that is working in closer proximity to the Ripper than either of us. Meet up with Beverly about the cases, and then come to me. You can write detailed speculation stories during the process. You’ll share anything we figure out with Beverly who will bring it to the FBI’s attention. While she’s doing that, you publish your story the instant after cuffs are slapped on the killer of the week.”

“That way Jack can’t charge me with obstruction of justice,” Lounds pointedly looked over at Will. “Again.”

“I’m not apologizing for that so die mad about it.” Will told her, “Any news on Abigail?”

“Nothing has been turned up yet.” Lounds sighed, “It’s like she fell off the face of the earth. Her body is bound to turn up.”

“She’s not dead.” Will decided now was the time to drop some bombshells on Lounds.

“How can you be so sure about that?” Her eyes narrowed. Will could practically hear her mind racing.

“Because I didn’t kill her, and I think Bruce still has some use for her.” Will said, “Other than that, I actually can’t give you a solid reason why. I just am. It’s a gut feeling.”

“You know what that means then.”

“I do, but don’t go looking for her. If you mettle with Bruce, you’ll end being his lunch.” Will said, “If your book about Abigail Hobbs is close to being done, I would get it published if I were you.”

“Why?”

“Because dead or alive, she’s not going to turn up again to help you finish it. Publish while you still have the momentum and the public’s interest.”

“Another gut feeling?”

“Do or don’t. It makes no difference to me.” Will shrugged.

“It’s nearly completed. Some parts could use some insight and polish though.” Lounds looked over expectantly at him. Will rolled his eyes back at her, but still caved. A promise was a promise after all.

“Fine, I’ll do it. It’s not like I have anything else going on.” Will groaned.

“See you tomorrow then,” Lounds said with a wink, “Partner.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

Chapter Text

Alana glared at Jack from across Hannibal’s table. Their host broke up their staring match with the presentation of beautifully arranged food. Delicate slices of sashimi were arranged artfully atop of fish bones. Hannibal tried not to think about how Will would have commented about that. Tried and failed.

“How have you not been caught yet?” A past Will echoed from his former spot at his table. A good bottle in, and the accent that Will would usually hide would begin to seep out, the wine teasing out the hidden sweet quality of his words and honey coat his tongue into leisure. “You advertise it constantly, and where the hell do you get all these bones anyway? You don’t hunt, animals anyway, and you’re not one for needless animal cruelty. Like this! This is a hummingbird skull! What did a hummingbird bird ever do to you that you need to put its bones on a dinner plate?”

Will was the only one who would do or dare say such a thing. When the fear began to ease out of him, Will would tease Hannibal and poke fun at his more eccentric tendencies. Hannibal found that he didn’t mind. Every king or emperor needed someone trustworthy to tell them when they weren’t wearing any clothes. Hannibal felt he was no exception. He just needed a trusted person to do so for him, and after being alone for so long, he had finally found that person in Will.

The sudden absence of his partner made Hannibal realize that there had been a new balance brought to his life. It was something Hannibal hadn’t even realized that he had been missing all this time. Now that it was gone, it was achingly apparent.

“Hannibal?” Was what brought Hannibal back to himself, Alana looking up at him with open concern. Hannibal realized he had just stopped mid-presentation, so lost in thought about Will. He had invited Alana and Jack over to his place under the farce of mending bridges for Will’s sake, but in actuality, Hannibal had just been bored…and perhaps a little lonely. Now he found that he didn’t want either of them here. They were inadequate replacements for what was missing.

“Forgive me. I was remembering something about Will.” Hannibal said softly, precisely setting down two ornate Japanese serving trays full of edible art.

“This course is called mukozuke.” Hannibal pressed on as he prepared their plates for them to keep in line with his sense of aesthetics and to avoid other commentary.

“Looks like sashimi.” Alana said, tactful as always.

“It is. Sea urchin, water clams and squid to name a few items in front of you both.”

“Beautiful.” Jack said, who was surprisingly behaving himself so far. He was a man whose beloved wife was dying, and yet, here he was. Bella must be refusing treatment, a serious point of contention for the couple. Hannibal filed away the observation for later purposes.

“What inspired this dinner?” Alana asked.

“Kaiseki. A Japanese art form that
honors the taste and aesthetic of what we eat.”

“I feel guilty eating it.” Jack said.

“I never feel guilty eating anything.”
Hannibal said cheerfully, watching with delight as Jack and Alana savored parts of his latest pig.

“Can’t quite place the fish.” Jack commented.

“Neither can I.” Alana said after her own thoughtful mouthful.

“He was a flounder.” Hannibal said. In life, the flounder had once been a greedy fishmonger, one who had tried to sell Hannibal subpar seafood. He had replaced what he’d needed by substituting the fishmonger for floundering about while alive.

“I last prepared this meal for my Aunt Murasaki under similarly unfortunate circumstances.” Hannibal said, “I suppose I was feeling nostalgic.”

“What circumstances were those?” Alana asked.

“A loss. This is a loss.” Hannibal said, and it was. He was not looking forward to spending his time without Will. “What has been done to Will and Abigail is a loss. We’re mourning a death.

“Will’s "death" is on me.” Jack sighed.

“It’s on both of us.” Hannibal said, subtly provoking conflict.

“Hannibal, you can’t blame yourself. Being in a relationship and being someone’s doctor are too totally different states of mind.” Alana said, “Had Will been your patient, maybe events would be have turned out for the better. It’s just one of those things we’ll never get to know.”

“It’s the last thing I think about
going to sleep and the first thing I think about when I wake up.” Jack was a man weighed down heavily by guilt. Hannibal, or Alana at the moment, cared.

“I wish you’d had those feelings from the beginning.” Alana sniped, cross and sharp. Hannibal found he was enjoying this side of her, so rarely witnessed but even less, experienced.

“Will’s gonna be convicted of four murders. I’ll be convicted of one.” Jack said.

“You’re not the one on trial and currently in a cell while waiting for that trial.” Alana was not about to attend Jack’s pity party for love or money.

“I will be. In the halls of the
FBI. So will you and Hannibal, guilty by association.” Jack tried.

“Will was your bloodhound, not my own.” Hannibal said, “You believe your bloodhound went mad. I do not share that concern about Will, but I do realize you need to eliminate possible variables.

“I’m sorry we requested your clothing.” Jack said with a grimace.

“I understand that you’ll have to investigate me. It’s in my best interest and yours for the FBI to do so.” Hannibal assured. It was hardly inconvenient, and even better, Hannibal got to personally observe all the FBI’s latest methods they used to catch killers. It was going to be sublime when he revealed this all to the FBI under the guise of the Ripper.

“No one seriously believes you did anything to make Will kill, or drive him to it. It’s just a formality.” Alana said quickly, as if Hannibal was bothered by such a thing. He played the part of the bereft lover anyway to its hilt, inclining his head while looking sorrowful about his current lot in life.

“I’m can’t ignoring the fact that
my bloodhound went mad while in your care and company.” Jack said, really putting a target on his back.

“We can’t define Will only by his
maddest edges. Not even I can do that.” Hannibal said.

“We can’t define Will at all.” Jack weighed in.

“Hannibal isn’t the one who pushed an unstable person out into the field and then ignored any and all warnings about it.” Alana’s anger was a simmering thing, getting ready to boil over onto all of them at any given moment.

“Well, I guess I should be grateful that you’re not my judge, jury, and executioner then.” Jack shot back.

Or maybe she was meant to be that all along.

The next day, Jack found himself sitting with Alana Bloom by his side in front of Kade Prurnell. She was a professional business person for the FBI, cool and immaculate and cruel. Jack had met psychopaths with warmer, more affectionate personalities than her.

“According to Dr. Bloom, you were
warned against putting someone with Will Graham’s issues into the field.” Prurnell stated.

“That is correct.” Jack nodded.

“Were you aware that Dr. Bloom was
going to file this report?” Prurnell asked tightly.

“Yes. She told me she was going to.” Jack said.

“Did you advise her against it?” Prurnell asked.

“I told her to do what she felt she
had to do. Evidently, she felt she had to file the report.”

“These are numerous allegations of
misconduct. It’s some pretty damming stuff, Jack.” Prurnell said.

“I never stated anywhere that this
was misconduct. In my opinion, it was a lapse in judgment.” Alana

“A lapse in judgment is misconduct.”
Prurnell dismissed that point like she was at a shooting range and Alana was a target. “There'll be an internal investigation.”

“There should be.” Alana

“Doctor Bloom, I’m going to walk you though the severity of your actions so you understand just how bad this is.” Prurnell said, “A federal examiner is someone who arrives at the battlefield after a battle and bayonets the wounded.”

She paused, checking to see if Alana was following along.

“You’ve wounded Agent Crawford. Who do you think gets the bayonet next?” Kade gave Alana a moment to response, getting only silence back. “There is a general desire to see
this go away quickly and quietly.”

Alana found herself to be the sole target for the woman’s intimidating glare. After being friends with Hannibal and his lack of expression for so long, Alana just pleasantly smiled back at her.

“Dr. Bloom, with that in mind, I
would appreciate it greatly if you were to recant your report.” Prurnell pressured.

“Graham's life has been destroyed. How that happened has to be a matter of record so it doesn’t happen again.” Alana countered with narrowed eyes.

“Believe me, Dr. Bloom is not easily swayed.” Jack said. He knew all too well about that from personal experience. Prurnell took her time looking at them both before sighing.

“This is going to get ugly.” Prurnell told them.

“It already has.” Jack said.

“I apologize. I have to take this if there is nothing else.” Alana said. It was the lawyer she had contacted on Will’s behalf. Hopefully, it would be one that he didn’t fire.

“Go ahead. We’re done here.” Kade said, watching Alana as she left the room before turning back to Jack. “What are you doing to help yourself? I’ll be blunt, Jack. You’re up to your neck in it this time. Don’t count on the FBI to dig you out.

“My team is investigating any possible outside influences and causes. I believe they are currently processing Doctor Hannibal Lecter as we speak. We’re looking for answers.”

“For your sake, find them sooner rather than later if you want to survive this.”

Meanwhile, elsewhere, a DNA swab was being removed from an open mouth.

“I am amazed what falls off the best
of us when moving through a room.” Hannibal said when he was allowed to do so.

“Lessons learned from cellular
decay: Enjoy the world while you have it and give a little bit back.” Beverly said. She seems done and out, not her usual cheery bubbly self.

“When possible, I try to leave an
indelible mark wherever I go.”

“Hopefully not with your DNA.” Beverly said, making Hannibal chuckle for reasons he was only privy to.

“How long will you have my suits?” Hannibal asked with interest. There was a huge pile of garment bags in the other room. An unfortunate hair and fiber tech was running a static comb meticulously over all the finely tailored suits and the menagerie of other garments Hannibal had so generously provided. The results were going to take a long while. Hannibal had been very thorough, in more ways that one.

“Considering you’re a clothes horse, you might have to think about
supplementing your wardrobe. They’re going to be here a while.” Beverly confirmed, shooting a sympathetic look over at the tech.

“I frequently do.”

“Any excuse or chance you can get, I bet.” Beverly smiled before pressing on. Hannibal had already been through so much. “You know this is all a formality. Nobody expects to find anything.

“I know. This is more to give Agent Crawford peace of mind than anything else.” Hannibal said, “There is a definite beauty to what you do, Ms. Katz. The certainty of it.”

“No need to be so formal. Call me Beverly or Bev if you prefer.” Beverly “It only works if I find enough of it to work with. No need to infer or intuit or trust.”

“So much simpler than psychiatry.
You can't trust the human mind, but the brain is an imagination machine. We only see part of the world and it manufactures the rest.”

“Will has done some manufacturing. He lives in dreams now. Right now, I bet he’s in his stream, quietly fishing.”

“You’ve gone to see Will?” Hannibal prompted. Beverly had the look of quiet defiance as if she were expecting a lecture from him.

“Yes, I have.”

“Do you think that is wise? What will Jack think?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t think I really care.” Beverly said, chin jutting out in open stubbornness, “What I do know is that Will is my friend, and that he’s alone in there, in the worst place possible for him.”

“Will is doing his best to understand where he is and why.” Hannibal said, “It is a fortunate thing he has friends now to help him with that.”

“You were supposed to protect him.” And there is finally was, what she had wanted to say to him from the beginning.

“From himself?” Hannibal said softly in one of his most gentle tones. Beverly wanted someone to fight, to rage at. If he got overly defensive or combative, she would find that sort of relief in him. While cathartic, Hannibal much preferred other people to ache at his discretion. “Do you really think Will would have welcomed that?”

“No. No, he wouldn’t. It makes me sound dumb when you say it like that.” Beverly relented, “I'm not mad at you. Not any more than I'm mad at myself. We all missed it. Whatever it was. Is.”

“We all are not suspects.” Hannibal said, “Some of us are merely lcollateral.”

“No kidding. You're not a suspect. You're the new Will Graham.” Beverly said, a thrill that Hannibal had never experienced before in his entire existence shooting up his spine. It wasn’t often that one got to experience a jolt of euphoria, but Hannibal recognized it for what it was. He reveled in it.

The feeling of it lasted long into the day, even carrying well on past twilight. It was noticed by his dinner companion for that evening as he placed the main course plate in front of Dr. Chilton before moving to his own seat.

“You looked pleased about something. New recipe?”

“Salted and ash-baked celeriac with
foraged sea astra. Frederick, you have tested me. It is rare that I cook a meatless meal.” Hannibal announced the food.

“I lost a kidney. I have to watch
my protein intake.” Chilton said warily, displeased by his lot in life.

“You didn't lose it, Frederick. It
was taken from you. I remain impressed with your recovery.” Hannibal said, which was true. Chilton’s will to live was as tenacious as the rest of him. Hannibal couldn’t wait to do more to him, if Chilton would survive or not.

“I’m still here partially due to all your efforts. I might not have made it if you had not been with Jack and the rest that night.” Chilton said, “One can grow to love beets.”

Hannibal decided that particular life choice was not for him.

“Your former patient is popular. I think he spends more time in the privacy room than his cell.” Chilton said.

“Will was never my patient. He was and still is my partner.”

“Your devotion to him is both touching and concerning.” Only cemented Hannibal’s plans for the man. He would not allow his relationship with Will to be patronized.

“Not when you consider that I believe Will is innocent.”

“The real irony here is that Mr. Graham is my patient, and he yet refuses to speak to me. Makes me feel like I'm fumbling with his head like a freshman pulling at a panty girdle.” Chilton lamented.

“Will is going to be challenging for
any psychiatrist, myself included.” Hannibal said, pride welling up within. Will was going to ruin Chilton.

“He is so lucid, so perceptive, he's
trained in criminal psychology and he's a mass murderer. He's a prized patient. Or should be.” Chiton didn’t know it, but he was making Hannibal feel simultaneously aroused and jealous.

“You thought you'd be like Beaumont studying digestion through the opening in St. Martin's stomach.” Hannibal said to take more wind out of Chilton’s sails as he subtly adjusted himself out of sight under the table.

“As it turns out, I don't think
we're any closer to understanding him now than the day he came in.” Chilton complained miserably to Hannibal’s imperceptible pleasure.

“Who all has been visiting my dear Will?” Hannibal asked. He knew about Beverly. Alana would be in the mix too, but both were to be expected.

“It would be easier to say who hasn’t.” Chilton grumped, “Doctor Bloom is a regular. Agent Katz has been by several times. Will gets a daily visit a strange little man whose name escapes me at the moment. He keeps trying to bring Will cheese.”

“That’s would be Franklin.” Hannibal sighed, “He used to be a former patient of mine. He’s taken a shine to Will.”

“Should I be concerned? He seems to be rather obsessive.”

“Franklin can be tenacious but is otherwise completely harmless. Allow him to see Will.”

“Whatever for?” Chilton asked, reasonably perplexed.

“He enjoys talking to Franklin. You might be able to work that to your benefit.” Hannibal said, happy about inflicting Franklin upon Chilton.
“Who else has been by?”

“Freddie Lounds.” Made Hannibal pause to stare over at Chilton who took no note of it at first, obviously enjoying the meal. “This is delicious.”

“I think I find that rather hard to believe.” Something about Hannibal’s tone made Chilton look up. There was a lion in the room.

“I know. No love lost there between those two. My point is though is that he talks to anyone who’ll listen, but not with me.” Chiton barely suppressed a shudder. There had been something there a moment ago, gone now.

“Perhaps you should give him a reason to open up.” Hannibal said, his interest now definitely piqued. Will choosing to talk to Freddie Lounds was an unexpected, unpredicted development. The thrill from earlier was beginning to renew itself.

“What do you suggest?” Chilton asked.

“I think it would advantageous for you to bring Gideon back to roost.” The suggestion caused Chilton to turn pale, gaping over at Hannibal like a caught fish.

“Dear god, why?” He said, setting down his silverware so his shaking hands wouldn’t drop the cutlery.

“Consider the bigger picture, Frederick. If Will won’t talk to you, maybe he’ll talk to Gideon when he thinks that they are alone. I believe you’ve already make certain arrangements in that regard to observe, discreetly of course.”

“That would be illegal.”

“Only if you’re caught.”

“Both are a good point.” Chilton was not convinced as of yet. “Or they might be if Will hadn’t shot him.”

“It will give them something to talk about.” Hannibal said, “Gideon isn’t challenged enough as it is, and Will could be a focal point for him to interact with.”

“One hell of an icebreaker.” Greed could be very useful. “It would be unique, wouldn’t it? Two prolific serial killers alive and in captivity, both under my roof and in my care. Gideon has proven to be a wild card though.”

“A wild card that has already shown you his entire hand. You are aware of Gideon’s full capabilities now so you can take the proper measures to prevent them.”

Hannibal’s idea stayed with Chilton well into the next day. He had plenty of time to mull it over while sitting with Will during yet another failed session. All Will would do was sit there with his eyes closed, remaining unresponsive to all inquires and commands while shackled in his viewing cage. It was one of six cages situated in a windowed cavernous room, rays if sunlight reaching for them like touch starved fingers.

Chilton was just about to quit for the day when Will rasped out “What did you say?”

“I said, how does that make you feel?” Finally! An actual response! Chilton tried to compose himself.

“Makes me feel like I’m sitting in a
dunking tank and you’re lobbing softballs, hoping to make a splash, but you keep missing the target.” Will cracked his eyes open long enough to regard him with a lazy smirk. It was infuriating.

“Fortunately, I have time for a few
more lobs. You’re in my hospital. You’re my patient now, Will.” Chilton tried to reason with him through gritted teeth.

“I’m not talking to you, Frederick.” And with that, Will closed up shop, shutting down once again in the impenetrable bone fortress of his mind.

Glaring at his uncaring, uncooperative patient, Chilton was beginning to come around to Hannibal’s suggestion. If Gideon could antagonize Will and vice versa, it would give him something to work with, maybe even write an entire book solely based on their exchanges. He could call it ‘Devils Whispering In The Dark’.

Before Chilton could leave to implement this budding notion, he was interrupted by a member of his staff. Chilton believed his name was Matt, Mark, Matthew, or something like that. He couldn’t be bothered to remember such trivial things.

“What?!” Chilton hissed, “Everyone is under strict orders to not bother me when I am working with this particular patient.”

“Sorry, boss. I told him that, but he said that you’d be fine with it.” The man whose name was Matthew said. He spoke with a bit of a lisp, something that Chilton found annoying, but Matthew had managed to make himself somewhat useful. Chilton could listen in on all his more valuable patients now thanks to the man’s technical skills and electrical wiring ability.

“Do I look fine to you?” Chilton decided his employee better have damn good answer. Useful or not, this would be his last day here if Chilton remained displeased with him. “Who the hell is it?

“I think he said his name was Doctor Lecter. Sounds foreign when he talks.”

“Yes, yes, I know who Doctor Lecter is. Anyone of merit and education knows who he is.” Chilton said, getting hastily to his feet. “Take him to my office. I have a feeling that he is not here to see me.”

Will had the same feeling as he was walked back to his cell by Matthew, who was the usual day guard/nurse/crazy person babysitter. The night shift was ran by an older black man named Barney. He was soft spoken and polite, but very firm about the rules being followed. If you didn’t break the rules, Barney didn’t have a problem with you and wouldn’t cause an inmate any additional grief for simply existing.

Matthew…Matthew was different. For one thing, his lisp was exaggerated, a sort of smokescreen for him to hide behind. The lisp was some remaining remnant of childhood that Matthew either grew out of, or got help managing it. It was similar to what Will did with his glasses to avoid or minimize eye contact.

Matthew also walked with a limp, when he needed to. He used his voice and body language as a disguise, not wanting people to notice him. No, Will corrected himself. Matthew wanted people to notice him, but then he wanted them to immediately dismiss his presence, much like how pedestrians treated homeless people. This was a man who wanted to be perceived as invisible.

It was a brilliant strategy, hiding in plain sight. The next question about that would be the why. Why was Matthew hiding, staying hidden by choice?

“You sure do get a lot of visitors, Mr. Graham, but then again, you would,” Matthew said as they arrived at Will’s cell, “Being who you are and all.”

Will regarded him for moment, openly doing so. It made Matthew straighten his posture. Oddly bright, he wanted full Will’s attention upon him, intentionally sought it out. “And who am I?”

“A killer, one of the best.” Matthew said a bit breathlessly. “Society never understands someone like you. You hid for all those years. You even taught at the FBI.”

“I don’t think it’s wise for you to talk to me.” Will didn’t like where this was going.

“Of course you already figured out that the boss man is listening in on you.” Matthew chuckled, losing the limp and lisp to grin over at him.

“I had a hunch. Nothing definitive, but thank you for confirming.” Will said. He’d had a vague notion about it, but confirmation was always nice.

“You can talk to me all you. I’m the one who put in the system. I can turn it off and on like I did now.” Matthew wanted so much from him. Will resolved to sleep more during the day. “Is it all right if I ask you a question?”

“I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. What do you want to know?” This was all sorts of not good. Will knew he had to figure this new killer out fast, especially if Matthew ended up changing his mind about him.

“What do people taste like?” Matthew asked with shining eyes.

“It’s just meat. How it tastes depends on the skill of the chef.” Will said. Matthew could take from that generalization whatever he wanted. Apparently, it was a great answer, Matthew grinning back at him.

“I’ll bring your guest down, Mr. Graham. We’ll talk more later.” Mattew promised as he added more momentum to Will’s growing concern.

“Thank you.”

Apparently, he had an admirer, one that wanted to be like the perceived murdering version of himself. Fan-fucking-tastic. If this man hadn’t already murdered someone, Will could tell that it was only a matter of time before he did.

Wondering what the hell did they put in Maryland’s water, Will knew he didn’t have a lot of time to dwell on Matthew and his very probable homicidal tendencies right now. Will had to prepare, both mentally and emotionally for the incoming inevitable, the perfect storm.

“Hello, Will.”

Hello, Doctor Lecter.” Was an evisceration. Hannibal was not prepared for it to hurt so much. Will stood in the middle of his cell. He was cold, focused, and intent as he regarded Hannibal with a perfectly blank face and hard eyes.

“Lost in thought?” Hannibal asked lightly.

“Not anymore. Why are you here?” Will’s voice was placid and cool as any lake frozen over by winter. Yes, Hannibal knew that Will would be upset with him and his current living situation, but now as he studied Will, Hannibal was beginning to rethink some of his other predictions about his partner. Will appeared to be more than just merely upset.

“To see you.” Hannibal said.

“You’ve seen me. Please leave.” Will responded to everything in a flat lifeless tone.

“Will,” Hannibal tried. It got a response. Just not the one he wanted.

“I think it would be best if we didn’t talk or see each other for a long while, all things considered.” Will said, glancing up and over in a subtle yet significant manner. Chilton was listening in, even here, Hannibal noting the breach in their privacy. “I don’t enjoy you seeing me this way.”

“If it’s any consolation, I know you’re innocent.” Hannibal said. He marveled as Will barely reacted, only a slight nod given in acknowledgment to this.

“At the moment, I find I have very little to console myself with.” Will said, sounding hollow and disinterested in continuing this conversation, already turning away.

“Then I’ll see to it that you don’t stay here for longer than necessary.” Hannibal tried to assure, but the only response he got to that was a chilly silence. Turning his back to Hannibal, Will closed his eyes, and in an instant, he was gone again, retreating inwardly into his own mind. Hannibal was fairly certain that Will wouldn’t hear him, even if he were to shout directly into Will’s ears. His usually vibrant scent was diminished as well, no notes of spice or sweetness lingering in air around Will.

Will had dismissed him, leaving no room for argument about it. Hannibal found he didn’t know how to feel about it.

Settling on disappointed for now, Hannibal took his leave. Though it would have drawn the guard’s attention and ire, he had wanted to stroke Will’s cheeks before leaving, perhaps even hold his hand.

There so many many things that needed to be done, and Hannibal wanted them over with as soon as possible so Will would be returned to him. When it was all completed, Hannibal knew he would have almost everything he always wanted. The pinnacle of his victory was so close at hand.

He wasn’t planning on keeping Will in the man’s own personal purgatory for too long, especially now. Regrettably, Hannibal felt he needed to keep Will securely out of the way for the time being to finish a plan that was years in the making. Even with their agreement in place, Will was still too much of a variable to be left out and about.

Hannibal had considered altering his plan, but the whole Gideon incident had changed his mind. If Will had allowed him to deal with Gideon how he wanted to instead of shooting him, things would be different.

Though the arrangements for this endeavor were certainly not ideal, Hannibal was confident that Will would eventually understand everything. He would come around. Will would understand.

All this excitement had a heady feeling to it, Hannibal smiling as he set out to put the next part of his plan into action. His good mood was somewhat ruined as soon as he stepped outside though. Franklin blinked owlishly up at him through bloodshot eyes, the man thrown off by his sudden appearance.

“Hello, Doctor Lecter.”

“Hello, Franklin. Here to try and see Will, I presume?”

“Yes, if they’ll ever let me in.” Franklin said as he was met with another familiar face. It was the guard who followed Hannibal out.

“Not you again.” Matthew sighed, the orderly who had escorted Hannibal to and fro Will’s cell. Hannibal found that he did not care for the man, something peculiar about him.

“Today is my day.” Franklin said with a confidence that no one believed in. He followed Matthew in, keeping much too close to the orderly, acting as if one could catch crazy

“Perhaps it is. Boss man says you can go in.” Matthew didn’t want to, but had to follow orders if he wanted to keep seeing Will. That meant dealing with this tenacious pain in the ass. “From the top, do not pass him anything but soft paper. No pens, no pencils. Do not accept anything he offers you. Do not offer him anything, even cheese. Hand that over.”

“Fine.” Franklin sighed, handing over the Parmesan. He wasn’t too worried though. Franklin had some Gouda in his back pocket for Will.

“Do not let him touch you.” Matthew warned, “Do not touch him. I’m going to be right outside. If you try to touch him, you will be removed from the building. Permanently.”

“I understand.” Franklin nodded along, bouncing excitedly as the privacy room and its occupant came into view.

“Do you? Because it doesn’t seem like you do.” Matthew glared at the rotund little man. He stood by the door, already having a growing feeling about what was going to happen.

“Hello, Franklin.” Will said in greeting, already counting down the seconds to his departure.

“Will!” Franklin burst immediately into tears, throwing out his arms wide as he lunged for Will. It was the hug that was never going to happen, especially on Mathew’s watch, the lean man catching Franklin around his waist to start hauling the wailing man out.

“Mr. Graham, I’m gonna leave you here. You’ve got another visitor so can I trust you to sit tight?” Matthew huffed.

“I’m properly dressed for the occasion.” Will said, shaking his shackles in answer.

“Don’t lose hope, Will!” Franklin managed to yell before being forced to depart. “I’ll wait for you!”

“Goodbye, Franklin. Good to see you too.”

Freddie Lounds was on her way to see Will when she ran into Hannibal who was on his way out. She saw him before he saw her so Freddie took the opportunity for what it was. Especially when Hannibal Lector of all people appeared to be distracted by something, or more likely, someone.

Hannibal looked over in time to see that his unexpected company was taking a picture of him. “Rude of you, Miss Lounds.” He said in greeting, remaining by the doorway. He needed information before he could let her run off to see his Will.

“Did you think I was above that sort of thing? You seem disappointed.” Lounds smiled shamelessly as she put the cap back on her camera.

“We evolved the ability to communicate disappointment to teach those around us good manners.” He told her as if the effort would magically make her grow a sudden conscience.

“Unfortunately for others yet fortunately for myself, I didn't evolve the ability to feel shame.” Freddie said.

“You should explore that in therapy.”

“The one time I saw a psychiatrist, it was under false pretenses.”

“Happy to entertain you for a more-
genuine conversation.” Hannibal envisioned snapping her delicate neck, took comfort in it. “So what brings you to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane?”

“I'm here to see Will Graham.” Freddie said, noting that Hannibal hadn’t moved from the doorway as of yet. Interesting. “There’s that look of disappointment again. I’m not lying. It was at his request. Imagine that.”

“I'm trying.” Hannibal was rarely surprised but Lounds had managed it pull it off with the confirmation.

“Lot of effort to get me through the
door. Will must have the chief of staff wrapped around his finger.” Lounds was her own kind of predator, small and fast and with very sharp teeth. She could bite where it hurts the most just like the rest of them. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, you’re blocking the way in.”

“Pardon me.” Hannibal said as he moved aside. Despite being a fan of her writing, he was becoming more and more enamored with the idea of ending her life.

Unable to resist, Lounds paused before entering. “I may take you up on that genuine conversation, Dr. Lecter.”

Watching her go, Hannibal realized that something else was going on here. Lounds shouldn’t be here. She flat out shouldn’t be here. The Will he knew and loved would rather chew glass than talk to her even in polite passing, and now Will was requesting her presence? Something wasn’t adding up. Will was asking for Freddie Lounds, but not for him.

“Please do.” Hannibal said in parting more to himself than her.

“Has anyone told you that there is a man sobbing outside for you?” Freddie asked Will as soon as she arrived. The distraught man had been particularly noisy and sounding wet from snot. “Loudly, I might add.”

“That would be Franklin. He just got kicked out.” Will shrugged.

“Do tell. Why?” Maybe a story there.

“For trying to hug me.” Nope, no story.

“What’s wrong with him?” Then again…

“Nothing. I’m very huggable.” Absolutely not.

“You should hire him to attend your funeral as a professional mourner.” Lounds said with a snort of contempt.

“That bad?” Will chuckled.

“I could hear him from outside the building before I walked in.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“What’s your relationship with him?”

“Ask him.” Was all Will said with a strange smile. He would say no more on the matter after that though.

Luckily for her, or so Freddie thought at the time, the commotion was still going on outside on the steps when she left. Chilton had come down from his office on high to personally deal with the still sobbing man who refused to leave their entranceway. Matthew had not been making any headway in that regard, phoning doe backup. Regarding the man who was miserably crumpled in a pile on the stairs, Freddie’s curiosity got the better of her.

“If you don’t stop this commotion, I will call the police.” Chilton said in a strained tone. The man shuddering at his feet only gripped his ankles in a tighter, vice-like grip.

“But I’m his best friend. Will needs me.” Franklin wailed.

“I’m a friend of Will’s too.” Freddie took her opening, slapping on her best fake friendly persona. “If you need to talk about anything, I was just about to go get a drink. Places like this really take it out of me too.”

“You want to talk to me about Will?”
Franklin sniffled as he sat up, letting Chilton go, much to the other man’s relief.

Bars were useful when trying to get information from men. If liquor alone didn’t work, sex usually provided enough leverage to get what she wanted. Freddie found most women responded better to questioning in coffee shops. In Baltimore, there was a British styled tearoom that served an excellent traditional high tea. Freddie would reserve a table there for special informants or more difficult older women.

Freddie figured that on top of getting a chance to pick Franklin’s brain for information, she could sow some seeds of goodwill with the man in charge here. The look of gratitude that Chilton sent her way cemented this notion.

“Only if you want to. I’ve been told before that I’m a good listener.” Freddie smiled sweet and pure down at Franklin, really laying the sincere charm on thick as peanut butter. It was just about the last thing that she got to say for hours.

“You piece of shit.” Was the first thing Freddie said to Will the next day. If he weren’t shackled to the table, Will would have fallen out of his chair from laughing so hard.

“Oh c’mon, he’s not that bad.”

“I wasted three hours of my valuable time on that blubbering waste of skin.” Freddie snapped. It only spurred on another laughing fit out of Will. “All he wanted to talk about was cheese and his fantasies about you, which I hope are just the byproducts of a disturbed mind and not in any way real.”

“What’s going on?” Beverly asked upon joining them in the Egg Room.

“She met Franklin.” Will wheezed as he wiped tears from his eyes.

“Yeah…he’s taking it pretty hard. Did he finally make it inside to see you?”

“Yes and no.” Will laughed.

“He tried to hug Will, and got kicked out.” Freddie supplied, sour and cranky.

“He does have a huggable shape.” Beverly nodded in agreement.

“I’ll take your word for it.” Lounds rolled her eye at the agent.

“On that note, I’ll head back to work. I just came by for a wellness check. Will, I’ll see you soon.” Beverly said. She was expecting to return to work, not get ambushed by her coworkers in the parking lot as soon as she arrived. Price and Zeller piled into her car as soon as it was unlocked.

“What are you doing? Get out of here.” Beverly said futilely, and they all knew it.

“You’ve figured out something.” Price felt no need to bury the lead.

“I’ve figured out that we need to work on establishing some boundaries.” Beverly shot back as her insides begin to twist. Whelp, this line of questioning wasn’t good.

“No, you don’t to get out of this so easily. You’re acting weird, and you just got back from seeing Will again.” Zeller said.

“So what? That’s doesn’t mean anything.” Beverly tried.

“Yeah, because I go visit serial killers on my lunch break and in my free time too.” Zeller made a face at her. “Nothing weird going on there at all.”

“Will’s a friend.”

“Will’s the main suspect for four murders in an ongoing case where he might actually be the Chesapeake Ripper. Yeah, I can see the appeal.” Price said dryly, “We’re not buying it. You wouldn’t be going to see Will if you thought he was guilty.”

“Since you don’t think he’s guilty, that means you figured out something, so quit wasting our time. You’re not that sentimental.” Zeller said, “If you can find it, we can find it too.”

“Yeah! What he said.” Price nodded.

Crap, crap, CRAP! If the others went looking for evidence that could possible help free Will, then they would be technically meddling in the Ripper’s plans for Will.

There were three of them.

A perfect sounder.

Beverly swallowed hard, horrible realization creeping up on her. Is this what Will had been dealing with this entire time all by himself? Beverly’s heart broke anew for him as she tried to remain level and calm.

Beverly knew she had to make a life changing decision. She didn’t know if it was a good one. If fact, it was probably going to be a terrible mistake. Beverly really hoped that they survived this mess.

“You two need to come back to my place after work.” Beverly said slowly, worrying her bottom lip.

“But-“ the boys tried.

“This isn’t a suggestion. If you want to know what’s going on, you’ll need to take a test.” Beverly laid it down for them.

It went well in some ways and not so much in others. Zeller had been pacing back and forth across her area rug for almost an hour now, clutching his head while muttering to himself. Price asked for some tea if she had any. Beverly did not so Price was given hot chocolate instead, the kind with the mini marshmallows already in it. He just stared down at it. Beverly switched out all their beverages for beer and shots of Jack Daniels.

“We need to bring this to someone’s attention.” Zeller said when he could finally put two intelligible words together in a coherent manner. They had made some headway into the whiskey bottle.

“As in, inform the Ripper that we’re on to him? Brilliant idea.” Price said, “Did you happen to miss the part about him working for the FBI, or do you have a burning urge to lose your innards to an elite sadist serial killer?”

“Bruce.” Beverly corrected.

“What?” Zeller and Price jinxed.

“We’re not calling him the Ripper. We’re referring to him as Bruce.” Beverly supplied helpfully to receive blank faces back, “It’s a code name.”

“Yeah, we get that.” Zeller said while exchanging a look with Price. “It’s just a very good one.”

“Seriously? It’s Bruce?” Price looked disappointed in her sense of humor.

“What does Batman have to do with the Ripper?” Zeller asked.

“I thought she was referencing a Queen song.” Price said.

“Bruce is the name of the shark from Jaws, you movie heathens.” Beverly rolled her eyes at them both.

“It’s also the name of the vegetarian shark from Finding Nemo.” Price said offhandly, noticing the pause of surprise from his colleagues. “What? I babysit my nieces and nephews from time to time, and Pixar is a pure necessity if you want a moment’s peace. Worth every penny.”

“Okay, fine! Bruce it is then.” Zeller caved, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Why can’t we go to Jack or anyone else about this?”

“As Beverly has already explained, multiple times, he’s hiding somewhere in the FBI. We don’t know how high up the food chain he goes there.” Price said, “I don’t know about you, but I’ve always wanted to die peacefully in my sleep, preferably all in one piece.”

“So what then? We keep working with the Ripper?” Zeller spat out.

“Bruce.” Price corrected to get a sour look from Zeller.

“If you want to keep all of our current area codes above ground, yes, it is our best bet for right now.” Beverly “We’ll have to be especially careful around Jack and Hannibal.”

“Poor guy.” Price sighed.

“If anything happens to Hannibal, it will destroy Will.” Beverly nodded.

“Okay, I get it. Keep Jack and Hannibal in the dark. I don’t like it, but I get it.” Zeller said, “So what do we do?”

“Well, we’re not going to spaz out like you’re doing now.” Beverly said, “We’re gonna act calm, cool, and collected.”

“We’re working with the Ripper.” Zeller was not here for calm, cool, or collected.

“Bruce.” Price said, ignoring the answering glare.

“And we have been this entire time so calm down.” Beverly soothed.

“Face it. We’re just a trio of lab rats. We’re not even on the…Bruce’s radar.” Price said.

“You don’t know that.” Zeller grumped, but started to deflate.

“We know that Bruce doesn’t want to call attention to himself so he’s not going to start now. Killing FBI agents tends to do that.” Beverly said.

“Yeah? Tell that to Miriam Lass and Will. What are we going to do? End up like them?” Zeller scoffed.

“Nothing. We’re going to do nothing. Will seems pretty damn certain that Bruce is going to get him out when the time comes.” Beverly shrugged. Price and Zeller stared hard back at her. “I know how it sounds.”

“Are you absolutely sure Will hasn’t lost it?” Zeller said.

“A little gratitude for the man would be nice.” Price beat Beverly to it.

“What? Why?” Zeller looked back and forth between the two of them in confusion.

“Think about it for a moment.” Price said, “This entire time, Will has solely known about the identity of the Chesapeake Ripper for months while being watched by Bruce. He been trying to keep everyone safe from Bruce, which includes all of us.”

“Oh,” Zeller said, sounding as small as he felt. “Look where it got him.”

“Still alive and willing to help others despite that?” Beverly pointed as she stared them down.

“Crap. Fine, I’m all in.” Zeller groaned, “I had better live to regret this.”

“Does that mean we’re Team Shark Bait now?” Price asked.

“Works for me, but that means you gotta meet the rest of the team. Lemme call her to see where she is.” Beverly already knew that this wasn’t going to go over well.

“If I had known I would be having this much company, I would have set out dip.” Lounds said dryly, opening her hotel door just wide enough for them to all slip in. “Something wrong, Agent Zeller? Was that your name? Am I pronouncing that right?”

“You can’t be serious.” Price said as he turned to Beverly for some confirmation and mutual face journeys.

“Will Graham seems to think so.” Lounds’ saccharine smile turned Zeller’s stomach into knots from stress. “He asked for my help, specifically asked for it, I might add. Did he ask either of you? No? Shame really. Maybe if you’d had a little bit more faith in him, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“B-But,” Zeller started to stammer.

“Just keep it professional.” Lounds winked at him. Even under the threat of imprisonment or legal action, she would never give up an informant. It was one of the few things Lounds always kept her word on. Her snitches knew this, were loyal to her for it and all the money and opportunities she threw their way.

Zeller didn’t know that though. Information was truly power over others, and Lounds reveled in it. Which was why she was particularly cross with Beverly. “More importantly, why are they here? Will specifically told us not to tell anyone because it could mark them and us for certain and excruciatingly painful death.”

“Only if they interfere with his plans, or get perceived as a threat.” Beverly said guiltily. She wasn’t sure about this either.

“Three people can keep a secret if two of them are dead.” Lounds grumbled, shaking her head with a sigh. “This is on you if anyone gets killed. I hope you all appreciate the irony here. I was the one who actually kept their mouth shut for once.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Beverly winced, never thought she would be apologizing to Freddie Lounds. “But Will needs help, and I’d feel a whole lot better with someone close watching my back in the lab.”

“How lovely for you. You know you could have just swung a monkey wrench blindly into some very delicate machinery, right? Will Graham works on a high mental level that very few can reach much less manage. He doing all this from a cell while playing for lives against the…against Bruce, and he told us to, the one thing he stressed the most, was to not tell anyone. So what do you do? You tell everyone!” Lounds finished with a shout.

“In all fairness to Bev, we noticed that something was going on.” Price pointed out. “We wouldn’t be very good at our jobs without having extraordinary observational skills.”

“Exactly my point. Did any of you ever stop to think that one of you might be the Ripper?” Lounds snapped, pointing back and forth between Zeller and Price and then back to Beverly.

“Bruce.” The trio corrected.

“We need to see Will Graham right now before we proceed with anything else.” Lounds said sharply, getting a very bad feeling in her gut. This is why she preferred to work alone. “Someone flash a badge or make a phone call or fuck someone important to make this happen.”

“No, it’s not any of them.” Will assured as he repeatedly thumped his head against the metal table he was shackled to. He hadn’t known what or who to expect when he got rushed out of his cell to the Egg Room by Matthew, but a whole roomful of people waiting for him there was not it. “However, this certainly does complicate things. Thanks for that.”

“Told you.” Lounds sniped, Beverly flipping her the middle finger in response.

“Have a little faith in Team Shark Bait.” Price said.

“You can’t be serious.” Lounds said flatly with all the energy of an annoyed cat. “Are all you idiots drunk?”

“Maybe.” Price shrugged.

“C’mon, you gotta admit it’s a little clever.” Beverly said.

“I try to never admit to anything, and we’re not calling ourselves that.” Lounds said, wondering how she had become the voice of reason.

“Team Graham Cracker Crumbs?”

“No.” The room groaned in response.

“Team Science!”

“Not a scientist.” Lounds reminded.

“Crap, what now?” Will looked up long enough to groan as Team Shark Bait turned as one toward the door.

‘Crap, what now?’ Was Will referring to a very confused looking Alana entering the Egg Room with an unknown man. Lounds had never met with him in person, but knew of him in passing. Lounds quietly approved, the man’s reputation proceeding him. He was an impressive choice for legal defense. That, and he didn’t look half bad in his expensive suit either.

“What is she doing here?” Alana snapped, also surprised by the amount of people coming to visit Will in the privacy room. She was especially displeased to see Lounds in the mix.

“It’s fine. I invited her here.” Will’s voice was being slightly muffled by the table, but he didn’t care. Sometimes Will could not believe the strange state of his life and luck. He had somehow gone from dog loving hermit who taught to asylum socialite with a death wish and groupies, one of them murderous. Matthew certainly didn’t look like he approved of anyone gathered here.

“If you all could please give us the room. It looks as though Alana has found me a lawyer.”

Chapter Text

“God, I love it when they’re this pretty. Makes my job so much easier.”

Leonard Brauer was confident, more than just a little cocky, and he looked damn good in a suit. Will disliked him immediately on principal. He did not work for the FBI though or had their best interests at heart so it almost made up for the rest. Plus, Will really needed a damn lawyer and time was running out for that.

“You’re gonna need a shave and haircut. Please tell me you have a somewhat decent suit.” Brauer said as he looked Will over like a car he was considering to buy.

“Is custom made by the most expensive tailor in Baltimore ‘somewhat decent’ enough for you?” Will shot back.

“Amazing. I wish all my clients made it this easy.” Brauer grinned.

“I’ll get them from Hannibal.” Alana said, already pulling out her phone to make that call.

“Blue would be ideal. Grab a red tie for it too. The color will make his eyes pop, and it never hurts to subtly reinforce a patriotic color scheme.” Brauer said, “Avoid black. If we have to go with black, get a bright tie, something gold. We want him looking like a model, not an undertaker.”

“And just how is that going to help my defense?” Will asked.

“Sex sells, even in the courtroom.” Brauer said, “The FBI wants this to go away. They want you to plead guilty. I’m going to presume that we’re not taking that direction.”

“I’m innocent.” Will said, “I don’t care what the FBI wants. I’m not pleading guilty.”

“Innocence isn't a verdict, Mr.
Graham. ‘Not guilty’ is. This isn't law, it's advertising.” Brauer said, “And we’ve gotta sell your brand, and right now, it’s a pretty damn hard sell.”

“Advertising trivializes, it manipulates, it's vulgar.” Will grumbled. It did nothing to dampen Brauer’s spirits.

“Boo-hoo. So's the law. We have to
create the desire to find you ‘not guilty’, which as far as I can tell, does not exist. When we enter that courtroom, we’re trying to manipulate the consumer, meaning the jury and the media, into buying something they don't need. They don't want your innocence. They don’t care about that right now so we gotta sell them on something tantalizing. The end game is for them to give a damn about you.”

“And how do we do that?” Will sighed.

“Well, first we gotta doll you up. Next, you are going to charm the pants off of the judge and jury.”

“Something I’m well known for.” Will stated flatly.

Brauer was not detoured in the slightest by the sour attitude. “You wanna live? Yeah? Fantastic. Then make Casanova look like some wallflower, and we’ll be halfway there.”

“Give them the ole razzle dazzle?” Will said sarcastically with jazz hands for emphasis.

“Whatever makes them reach to tickle their pickle.” Brauer said, “Mr. Graham, if I take the moral high ground with you, I'll get you killed so I’m using every trick I can think of for our little dog and pony show. Why was Freddie Lounds here with the rest of your fan club?”

“She writing my story and she wants me to consult on cold cases for her.” Will said, waiting for the fallout.

And there it was.

“Will!” Alana said upon rejoining them. Ignoring her outage and surprise, Will hoped that his suits arrived by themselves and not with a Hannibal attached to them.

“No, no, this is good. He’s neutralized one of his most vocal critics.” Brauer smiled like he had just won a prize.

“You can’t be serious.” Alana said, clearly dismayed.

“Not always, but on this, deadly, as in your friend’s life is riding on it. I know Lounds well enough that she’s not going to endanger her current and future meal ticket. Will is worth more alive to her than dead, and I am elated about that. As long as he stays that way, we got a member of the media with some decent numbers in our corner. It also means the prosecution can’t use her against us.”

After some more trivial back and forth, their meeting ended, but Alana and Brauer were not the last of Will’s visitors for that day. He hadn’t been back in his cell for more than twenty minutes when Matthew returned to take Will up to the cages in what was laughable deemed the therapy hall. The sharp clicking of heels on tiles alerted Will of his incoming mystery company. The high heels belonged to a rail thin woman with a heavy serious air about her, someone Will had never seen before. She wasn’t a reporter though, or a doctor for that matter. Will knew what she must work for the FBI. If he had to guess, this woman was their designated damage control.

“Will Graham.” The woman said as Will looked up at her. “Kade Prurnell. Office of the Inspector General. FBI oversight.”

“Am I still an FBI employee? Or is that pending the outcome of my trial?” Will decided to go for shits and giggles fun with her.

Kade was a killer in the other sense of the word. Her job was to make inconveniences for FBI go away. If that meant putting a needle in Will’s arm to do that, guilty or not, then so be it. “Point of the trial isn't so much whether or not you did it, it's whether or not you knew you were doing it... when you did it.”

“Sounds like I'm unemployed.” Will said, much to his own amusement and to Prurnell’s annoyance.

“Dr. Bloom is hard at work on your
unconsciousness defense.” Prurnell said.

“The FBI made me do it.” Will nodded. Alana was not a fan of the ‘not guilty’ plea because it didn’t offer much flexibility if they failed. That was something that they would have to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt, and the evidence currently wasn’t making that a strong possibility.

“The FBI made you a murderer, yes. That is Dr. Bloom's position. As you can imagine, she's not popular.” Prurnell said, looking at Will like it was his fault for that.

“What's your position?” Will asked, genuinely curious.

“Our point of view is, you were
already a murderer.” Kade stated coldly, “The prosecution is going to paint you as an intelligent psychopath.”

“Intelligent enough to work for the FBI for years, all while killing completely unnoticed while employed by them.” Will summarized.

“Which is what everyone is going to hear when you take the witness stand, regardless of what you say.” Prurnell said.

“Oh my. What's to be done about that?” Will said, “That’s not a good look for the FBI, having such a prolific killer hiding in their ranks.”

“Let's discuss it.” Prurnell finally getting to the real reason why she was there talking to him in person. “If you plead guilty, you will spare us all a trial and I will see to it personally you're comfortable here.”

Which was a load of horse shit.

“I'm pleading innocent.” Will said in the tone of “go merrily fuck yourself with something long and rusty”. The FBI was really trying to piss on his leg and tell him that it was water.

Prurnell was disappointed with his response but remained unbothered by it. “You very publicly lost your mind. Some would argue, theatrically. The prosecution certainly will.”

“All part of the performance. Just not my performance you're watching.”

“You're going to be found guilty and you'll be given the federal death penalty. That is the inevitable conclusion we are rocketing toward.” Prurnell said, “I'm trying to save your life.”

“The hell you are.” Will laughed.

“I'll have to save my own life.”

Chapter Text

Something unexpected…practically miraculous was happening. Will Graham was enjoying a conversation with Freddie Lounds.

“Seriously? You think it’s aliens?” Will said.

They were currently discussing the missing 411. There were thousands of missing persons, unsolved cases centered around America’s national parks. The circumstances of the cold cases were almost always strange with the sudden disappearances happening to unlikely people. Lifelong hunters, ex-military, firefighters, experienced hikers, and such were some of the few examples. These were people with years of training, and more than enough survival training, people who wouldn’t have just disappeared into thin air without a trace.

Children would be taken too, but the oddity about those cases was that if the child was ever found, dead or alive, they were discovered in impossible places. A toddler might end up ten to thirty miles away from their last sighting or the intended search area, having traveled impossibly fast over rough woodland terrain. It was a feat that a fully grown adult would find taxing. It was a stark impossibility in regards to a small inexperienced child.

“How is that any worse than your other green little men theory?” Lounds countered, “Tinkerbell taking them to Neverland is somehow more plausible?

“The Fae are far more believable making people disappear than visitors from outer space.” Will said.

“In the grand schemes of the infinite universe, you really think Earth is so special to be the only planet in the entire universe to support life?”

“No. That’s not it at all.” Will waved that notion off. “I just don’t think other intelligent life would come here.”

“Ah. Firm believer that we’re the Deep South in our corner of the galaxy then?” Lounds settled down, apparently ready to fight him over the existence of otherworldly visitors.

“If Earth had theme music, it would be that song from Deliverance.” Will said.

“You ever think that we’ll get to Star Trek?” Lounds asked. The question was stated neutrally, but Will could sense some wistfulness to it.

“After seeing what I’ve seen and knowing what I know?” Will sighed, “I leaning more towards ‘Mars Attacks’ rather than ‘ET’.”

“God, you’re bleak. Remind me to never drink with you.” Lounds snorted.

“I’ll have you know that I’m a delightful drunk.” Will lied.

“I don’t see the appeal of 50 shades of morose bastard.” Lounds called his bluff.

“Yeah? Well, I bet you’re the kind of drunk that never shuts up.” Will said, “You seriously believe that we’ll eventually get Captain Kirk and the Enterprise?”

“I’d rather hope for something than nothing at all, even if it is some silly pipe dream.” Lounds shrugged. “Why are staring at me?”

“Nothing. Sometimes you surprise me with a nugget of gold after wading through an ocean of shit.”

“And sometimes you say things that make me think you’re not a complete lunatic.”

“All humans are a little crazy. We just are.” Will said, pointing up with a wink. Chilton, of course, on upon realizing that Will would be seeing most of his visitors in the privacy room had the whole thing bugged by Matthew. Will and Freddie took it upon themselves to make Chilton regret that.

“If you start saying things like ‘normal is a setting on a dryer’, I’m going to write something incredibly embarrassing about you.” Lounds was always down to clown, and even better, she was an expert at it.

“Why? Is it because I put the fun in dysfunctional?”

“Keep going. The world needs to know about your stuffed animal and vomit fetish.”

“Ouch. How do the two correlate?”

“They don’t. They’re two separate kinks. What’s most disturbing is that you spend about the same amount of money on both pastimes.”

“I take it that it’s not my own vomit I’m amassing then.”

“Absolutely not. You pay prostitutes, make and female, to eat a fancy dinner and then puke it back up for you in a trash bag. Try to keep up.”

“Do I have sex with them before, during, or after?”

“No sex.”

“I presume due to my crippling erectile dysfunction issues?” Will nodded sagely.

“Yes, and it makes you feel too insecure to actually ever want be with anyone. They upchuck dinner, and then you send them away for some sexy alone time with what you paid for.” Lounds said, before arching a brow at him. “During?”

“People who are into anal sex claim the experience to be euphoric, the way everything clamps down on the male’s genitalia when food is actively being expelled from the female.”

“Euphoric for one of them.” Lounds grimaced, “I bet you’re vanilla in bed.”

“Depends on my partner. Empath, remember?”

“So anyone you’re with is guaranteed mind blowing sex?” Lounds was obviously not convinced.

“It all depends on the confidence of the other person.” Will said as he adjusted his entire persona to match Lounds perfectly, from the tilt of her head to the tone of her speech to the twist of her lips.

“Ew. Stop that.” Lounds glared at him, Will relaxing back into himself.

“At least for them. It’s rarely a fair trade off of enjoyable experiences.” Will finished.

“Did I mention before that you’re bleak? I was being too nice. Add tragic to that. Tragic and bleak.”

“I enjoy being a pessimist. I’m either right all the time, or pleasantly surprised when I’m not.” Will said as the two continued to play ‘waste his time’.

“I believe I already told you what would happen if you keep quoting Hot Topic bumper stickers at me.” Lounds said, “I can add that you dress up as an infant whenever you play or ‘play’ with your stuffed animals.”

“There’s actually a huge growing market for paraphilic infantilism, no pun intended.”

“I’m well aware about adult baby syndrome.”

“Something I should know about? You’re too flat to be a Milk Maid. So are you wearing the diaper instead of changing them?”

“You wish I was into something like that.” Lounds smirked, “Let’s just say most politicians aren’t worth the money they’re paid.”

“Noted.” Will said, “Worst way to die in your opinion?”

“Scaphism.” Lounds said, not missing a beat.

“Damn, you skipped old school and went straight for ancient.” Will was impressed despite himself. Scaphism used to be the preferred method of the Persians when it came to executions in the very early ADs. Some poor soul not long for this world would be strung up between two boats, suspended over water. They would then be forced fed milk and honey so they would shit themselves. More milk and honey would be used then to cover their body. It would takes around two weeks for the person to be slowly and excruciatingly consumed by bugs, rats, and other vermin.

“Ever seen it in person?” Lounds asked.

“Thankfully, no.” Will shook his head, grateful for small favors. “Don’t tell me you have.”

“Oh yeah. Guy was tied up and put inside a tree. You never forget that smell, decomp and rancid dairy with some bright notes of honey and shit.” Lounds said tightly, Will happy that particular death wasn’t burned into his senses and memory. “What’s yours?”

“I got more of a top 5 that’s revolves its order based on my mood. Killing a king without leaving a mark is up there.”

“I haven’t heard that one yet.”

“King Edward II of England really screwed the pooch in the political sense so he had to go, but killing royalty can be tricky for everyone involved, especially when it is perceived that the king derives his power from a divine source. They needed to do so without leaving any sort of mark.”

“How did they manage that?”

“By hollowing out a piece of deer antler so it forms a tube. The hollowed horn was then inserted into the king’s rectum. It was immediately followed by a red hot poker and some vigorous thrusting motions.” Will said, “It’s said that you can still hear the king screaming at his castle. Being skinned alive and then drawn and quartered is up there too.”

“Anything from personal experience stand out?”

“Too many, each one more horrible than the last.” Will shook his head.

“You’re such a drama queen.” Lounds sighed, rolling her eyes at him.

“Call me that after you’ve seen a collection of taxidermy children, or would you like me to go into precise detail about the DollMaker’s methods? How long he kept them alive during the process? How much of an expert he was at his craft? How lifelike all those dead children were?” Will leaned in, letting Lounds see how dead he was behind the eyes from the memory.

“Okay, you win.” Lounds shook her head. “Unpopular opinion you have that you don’t talk about to other academics?”

“I don’t know if it’s unpopular or just more unproven, but I think there have been a lot more female serial killers than we give the gender credit for.” Will said after a moment of thought.

“Why? Because we’re smarter?” Lounds smiled while ridiculously batting her eyes.

“Yes, actually.” Earned Will a look of surprise, Lounds dropping the coy act as she honed in on him. “I believe the gender is more resourceful due to social conditioning.”

“Explain.”

“Think about it. Ignoring the exceptions to this, the female gender has been at a tactical disadvantage globally for practically forever on every cultural level. The smarter ones learned how to adapt and succeed in such a constant limiting environment, all while dealing with the obstacles of unwanted marriage and childbirth.”

“I agree with you, but more so because poison has historically been a women’s answer to obstacles in life. Makes it harder to keep track of all that.” Lounds said.

“It would be though. The mushroom pickers were generally women.” Will said, settling into teaching mode. “When we were still living as hunters and gatherers, the men would be sent out to hunt, but not because women were incapable. It’s because if you send five guys out and only two come back, you can still continue the human race. If you send out a hunting party that includes all your women and all the women get killed, it’s game over for everyone. Gender roles back then were more about having the common sense to survive another day.”

Will continued. “The women were the gatherers, but they were also the testers. Would this new berry taste good, would it make you shit yourself, or end up dead? Will this mushroom allow you to talk to gods, taste delicious with eggs and bacon, or make you go blind? Is this unknown plant even edible, going to make you sleep, or cause your skin to itch and burn upon contact? Women learned all about poisons long before men did.”

“Aqua Tofana, springs vividly to mind.” Lounds said.

“You would like murder with an entrepreneurial side to it.”

“If you do something well, you should get paid for it.” Lounds shrugged, “You said want to talk number games? Giulia Tofana is a serious contender. We’ll never known her exact kill number, but it’s around 600. It’s probably, definitely more.”

“Interesting thing about that is we know what Aqua Tofana was made of, but not how or in what way.” Will said, “It was said to be odorless and colorless, mixing perfectly unnoticed in food and wine.”

“And it took only one little idiot with morals to bring that all down.” Lound sighed.

“Are you really upset with some long dead woman for not murdering her husband?”

“Yes, I am. She took a valuable tool away from the women of her time. Giulia Tofana vetted and sold her ‘perfume’ to women in abusive or violent relationships.” Lounds said, “If she didn’t have it in her to murder her bastard husband, she shouldn’t have ruined it for everyone else.”

And then Will was reminded that his time was not his own, himself and Lounds bristling up like slighted cats by a sudden intrusion.

“What’s she doing here?” Jack said in greeting as he breached the Egg Room.

As long as Will refused to speak with Chiton, the man had no issues breaking rules to allow Will to have all the visitors that turned up. Come Hell or high water, Chiton was determined to write about Will, even if it was only his conversations other people.

That unfortunately included Jack.

“My presence was requested and, more importantly, welcomed,” Lounds said, barely bothering to look up from her notes at Jack. “Unlike some people.”

“Will,” Jack said in a voice that was supposed to do something. Will wondered if it even crossed Jack’s mind that he didn’t work for him or the FBI anymore.

“She’s not lying. I want her here.” Will mirrored her tone and body language, making it blatantly obvious just how unwanted Jack’s company was. “Unlike you.”

“I don’t believe that.” Jack argued.

“Shocking. I tell you something and you chose not to believe it. At least you’re consistent.” Will said with a shrug.

“And what if she writes about you?” Jack remained miffed and unrelenting.

“So what if she does? Will I end up unemployed, on trial for quadruple homicide, and placed in an insane asylum?” Will said dryly, gesturing around them. “Oh no, not that. Anything but that.”

“Will has already agreed to help me coauthor a series.” Lounds said saccharine sweetly, twisting the proverbial knife. “After I tell his story to the world.”

“His story?” Jack was certainly not liking that.

“About how the FBI made one of its most brilliant profilers a scapegoat, and ruined an innocent man’s reputation and career.” Lounds explained as she watched Jack grimace with open delight.

“Strange. I remember not too long ago you telling the world that Will was crazy and a killer.” Jack tried to rally.

“A skilled journalist always needs to keep an open mind.” Lounds smiled bright and sharp as a knife. “I’m flexible.”

“You can’t trust her.” Jack stated the obvious.

“I trust Freddie Lounds more than I trust you.” Will snorted, staring down Jack’s confusion with open distain. “I’m not in here because of her.”

“The evidence,” Jack started.

“The evidence is a pile of garbage my lawyer is about to set alight in the courtroom.” Will said. If Hannibal decided to play his little game too long, Will’s backup plan was to help his lawyer decimate any evidence presented to the court. If he couldn’t get off completely free and clear, Will could settle on surviving this ordeal.

“I don’t see how.” Jack said, clearly at a loss.

“No, you wouldn’t, would you? Doesn’t matter in the long run.” Will sighed, “Go away, Jack. As you can see, we’re busy.”

“Talking to her about cases.” Jack was back to being angry and self righteous.

“What cases?” Will asked lazily just to see the other man fume.

“You know what I’m referring to.” Jack said tightly.

“Can’t say that I do.” Will paused as if in openly feigned thought. “Oh! Those cases. I’ve been so busy here, must have slipped my mind. Ms. Lounds is just a concerned citizen chatting me up about the latest news, and I’m merely stating my opinion about them.”

“You can’t fault him for being right.” Lounds said.

“We’ve also been working on some cold cases that anyone can look into to.” Will said.

“I’ll talk to Chilton.” Was supposed to be a threat.

“Go ahead. He loves it when I have visitors. Get all gossipy about them.” Will smiled.

“I’ll take you to court if you do.” Lounds said, making Jack’s head whip over to stare her down. She basked in his anger like a weed in the sun. “He’s a client with whom I am discussing a book about his life with. We’re not doing anything illegal. I’m here at Will’s invite, the head of the facility has given me full permission to be here, and all the information we’re discussing is readily available to the public. I would love to hear you explain in a court of law what we’re doing wrong.”

Will grinned up at Jack’s answering look of dismay. “She’s just using you because Abigail is gone.” Jack said.

“And what exactly are you doing about that? About Abigail? She doesn’t seem to be here so maybe you should try looking elsewhere for her.” Lounds continued. “Agent Crawford, if you want to embarrass yourself in court by throwing a tantrum over Will not wanting to talk to you, I won’t stop you. In fact, my readers will lap it up, much like how they are right now.”

Lounds continued, holding up her phone to show off the notice. While she did so, Jack’s phone went off. It kept going off. “That wasn’t an idle threat, Jack. I updated during this darling little tête-à-tête. You might want to answer your phone. I think it’s safe to say that it’s your boss calling you.”

“Have you met Kade?” Will asked, Jack leaving them without another word. They watched him leave with his phone pressed hard to ear.

“Can’t say I’ve ever had the displeasure.” Lounds said, “I’ve heard lots of things about her though, none of them warm and fuzzy.”

“Lucky you.”

“I take it she’s charming?”

“If she were an animal, she’d eat her young unprovoked and while they were still alive.”

“I bet she loves you.”

“I’m sure I’ve made her Christmas card list.”

Chapter Text

Will had no idea how Brauer pulled it off since he wasn’t supposed to be around sharp objects, but a tiny ancient woman of unknown origin showed up early in the morning to prepare his look for court.

After Will was strapped down to a chair under the watchful eyes of several guards, the woman went to work. From what Will could tell, the woman understand yet spoke no English other than “yes” and “no” and “hold still”. She ignored any of Will’s input, going about her task with a focus surgeons would have envied. Most impressively, she handled a straight razor better than Hannibal. She left as quickly as she had arrived, making Will feel like a freshly shorn, slightly confused sheep.

Will might have thought that his new look lacked gravitas, but the courtroom’s reaction to his freshened up appearance stated otherwise. There was a definite pause in the proceedings when he entered the courtroom. Will did his best to ignore all the unwanted staring and sudden desire for him.

Hannibal’s mouth went bone dry upon seeing Will arrive. Someone else had dared to shave him. The suit looked painted on, highlighting Will’s trim figure and best features front and back. It was a pity Hannibal’s first time seeing the outfit on Will was here. He wanted to cut that ridiculously expensive suit piece by piece off of Will like a present for himself.

Hannibal tried to catch Will’s eyes as he walked past. It was a futile effort though, Will determinedly focused forward as he joined his lawyer up front.

“You turned out better looking than I hoped for. With any luck, you might not have to talk that much.” Brauer quietly assessed as his client joined him.

“Just sit here and look pretty?” Will grumbled back.

“If you could work on a quiet smolder to distract the jury, I’ll be a happy man.” Brauer said, “Is it safe to assume the guy trying to stare holes in the back of your head is the illustrious Hannibal Lecter?”

“Yes.” Will answered tightly, refusing to react to the other man’s presence here, or turn around to confirm.

“Mmm…he might be useful.”

“Absolutely not.” Will snapped before regrouping. “I mean, his career and reputation have already been so negatively affected by all this.”

“Judging by the cut and cost of both your suits, I think he’ll survive.” Brauer said, “I have to say that you’re remarkably calm and overly opinionated for someone whose possible final verdict could be the death penalty.”

“What do you care? Win or lose, this case is going to make you famous.”

“I prefer my clients alive and free to sing my praises. I find it’s better advertising. I also like to win so if you could possibly stop making that more difficult, that would be great.” Brauer said, “I tell you what. I’ll only put Lecter into play as a last resort.”

“And I’m telling you that is a terrible idea, especially if you’re so keen on winning this.”

“I would love to know why we can’t use your wildly rich and successful boyfriend whose also a widely respected psychiatrist. The one behind us who’s staring at the back of your head like you hung the moon and stars just for him.”

“It’s your funeral.” Will shrugged.

“Why do I feel like you don’t mean that figuratively?” Brauer gave Will a long hard look, before turning his attention back to the front. “Alright, get ready. It’s showtime.”

The judge entered the courtroom, and the three ring circus began.

“Why am I not in court covering one of the biggest trials of the century?” Lounds asked, glaring at Beverly from across a scarred table.

The two were on a dive bar, the kind of place where the bartender ignores you, the regulars wouldn’t care if you dropped dead in your seat, and sex toys were sold out of a vending machine in the bathrooms. For three whole quarters, someone could be the proud owner of a French tickler or warming lube that should probably never come into contact with skin much less any private parts. It was dark, it smelled like piss and sour beer, the floors were permanently sticky, but it was also the kind of place where you could slide the bartender a C note to ensure that no one would come near the one table in the far back corner.

“Because I got one. A case, and it’s a doozy.” Beverly said.

“A doozy? Can I directly quote you on that?” Lounds snarked.

“If you don’t want to know about six lacquered bodies and the address to the scene, I can take my chances and just go straight to Will with this instead.” Beverly said as she set aside her full glass. They had ordered drinks to appease the bartender, but neither of them was going to risk putting their lips on the glassware. The surfaces somehow managed to be simultaneously sticky and greasy, much like the table they were hidden at.

“You should have opened with that.” Lounds said as she reached out with ‘gimme’ hands for the file. She glared at Beverly as it was held away out of reach.

“Remember- no surprise stories that gets us all in trouble.” Beverly reminded, “Like fired and in jail sort of trouble.”

“You don’t trust me.” It wasn’t a question.

“You haven’t exactly given me much reason to.” Beverly sighed before relenting. “But I do trust Will.”

“You can trust in the fact that I want to be rich and famous, and Will is my golden goose that’s going to make that all happen. If he’s found guilty, that’s just one huge story that will be forgotten and replaced by the next big thing. If I can help pull Will’s ass of this fire, he’ll owe me. I’ll be set for life.” Lounds said, feeling like a kid at Christmas as she peered down at legit, honest-to-god FBI evidence.

“You want me to trust in your greed?” Beverly asked incredulously, already regretting this.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Lounds said as she studied the gruesome photos. “How long have they been in the water like that? What is that on their skin?”

“Hard to say. Somebody went to a lot of trouble to preserve them. They’ve been coated with some kind of resin.” Beverly said as she too studied the photos. “Big guy there was only partially sealed. Rotting from the inside out. Other three look like they were more embalmed”

“What do they have in common?” Lounds asked.

“Nothing in common except they lived alone and disappeared from their homes with their vehicles.” Beverly said, “And they all had large amounts of heroin in their systems.

“Was overdose the COD, or was it used to incapacitate them?” Lounds asked as she mulled it over.

“Yes, yes, and then some.” Beverly said.

“There is unusual skin discoloration in these bodies. What’s causing that?” Beverly had to give it up to her. Lounds knew her shit and asked good questions.

“We found traces of BHT, which is a
color preservative.” Beverly told her, unable to keep the excitement of sharing information and discovery out of her voice.

“He wants them to look alive?” Lounds hazarded a guess. Beverly nodded back.

“We think so. He shoots them up with a little china white, and then injects preservatives.” Beverly said, “Next, he fills their bodies with a silicone based substance so they don't emaciate, and then seals them in a hard resin shell.”

“Sounds like he's trying to make mannequins out of real people.” Lounds grimaced, “What are these puncture marks here?”

“Eyelets. Something was threaded
through them. Bodies were likely strung up. Mounted or presented.” Beverly said.

“Gotta love a serial killer with a gimmick.” Lounds sighed, “Do you know how he’s choosing them?

“We've got nothing. Appears random.” Beverly’s enthusiasm petered out as they hit the same roadblock from earlier. “But if this is the discard pile, I'm curious how many were keepers.”

“If these are the rejects, it must mean that he’s still trying to figure out his process.” Lounds said, tapping one of the pictures thoughtfully with her nails. The large man rotting from the inside out cast a huge contrast when compared to the other more neatly embalmed corpses.

“We’re currently amassing a list of any missing persons who disappeared with their vehicles in the surrounding states.”

“But you might not find him in time before he dumps another discard into the drink.”

“Yup. We need to know where and why he’s doing this.” Beverly said, “Good thing we know a guy, right?”

“It's good to see you’re still all in one piece. Looks like you survived the first round of court.” Lounds said in greeting to their guy.

“Don't know how I feel about seeing
you with such a jubilant look on your face. I'll let you know when I do.” Will told the table, exhausted from earlier. For once, Will just wanted to be back in his cell. He turned his head to stare at her. “Is that a file with you?”

“Yes.” Lounds grinned as she passed it over, “And pictures.”

“Lucky me.” Will said as he opened it up to stare down at the six victims pulled from the turgid water.

“The first six bodies ended up in
the same place. Dumped in a river, caught in a beaver dam.” Lounds explained.

“What does he do to them?” Will asked as he studied the pictures. Despite their lurid content, he wished there were more of them.

“He targets loners, follows them home, abducts them and preserves them.”

“What is he injecting them with?”

“They were injected with something silicon based.”

“There is a technique for making resin-coatedmodels out of fish. The process helps the body retain a lively shape in death.” Will said, “The long and short of it is that he’s making human models.”

“Models are generally made out of something you would keep. These were tossed in a river.” Lounds said.

“Of course they were. These models aren’t perfect in their creator’s eyes.” Will said as he pointed to various flaws on the bodies, “I take it that you want to know how he's choosing them?”

“If you have some ideas about it, yes, that would be helpful. I’m not here for my health.” Lounds said, “Tell me what you see?”

“You’ll need to be quiet for this next part.” Will said before closing his eyes to let his pendulum swing.

Lounds hadn’t known what to expect, but Will sitting there with his eyes closed like he was experiencing a waking dream was not it. She knew that she needed to respect the process even if she didn’t understand it, but she found the much anticipated experience was boring as hell. Just as she was about to pull out her phone to kill some time, Will rejoined the land of the present.

“It’s a color palette.” He told her, simple as that. Like that was supposed to make perfect sense.

“What?” Was the best she could do with that sort of unexpected answer.

Will rearranged the pictures until they were laid out from light to dark. “He’s making something, and these people were meant to be the building material for it, something that needs color coordination.”

“What’s he building?

“I don’t know. I’m observant, not omniscient.” Will shrugged, “You’ve got part of your why.”

“Any idea about the where?”

“No, but if I were to hazard a guess, it would have to be somewhere upstream from the river, remote and uninhabited. If he’s kidnapping this many people, whatever he’s making is large and he doesn’t want anyone to find it until it’s complete.” Will said, “Get me a report from trace, and we’ll see where we can go from there. There is only so much I can do with pictures.”

“I’ll let the gang know.” Lounds said as she gathered up the photos.

“The team?”

“The gang. It feels like we have more in common with Scooby Doo than Mission Impossible.”

“I feel so better about my chances when you put it that way.”

“Well at least you don’t have to go galavanting in the woods to look for a crime scene.”

“Not an outdoors kinda person?”

“Do I look like I want to become one with nature?” Lounds gestured down at herself in exasperation. With the exception of her boots, most of her outfit was made up of knockoff high end brands, but they were nice, barely noticeable as fakes.

“Happy hunting. Avoid leaves of three.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Oh you’ll find out. I would change your boots if I were you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Realizing too late that she should have taken the advice, Freddie Lounds decided that she was going for a drink or several after this horse hockey of a search. It was getting dark, she already wasn’t fond of nature, the water flowing nearby was smelly, she now knew what leaves of three did to skin when touched, and there was nothing newsworthy out here worth taking a picture of. Lounds had just about given up when a huge splash coming from near the waterfall caught her attention.

A newly arrived lacquered corpse bobbed in the water like rotting driftwood. Looking around, Lounds quickly found a branch almost long enough to guide the dead man to shore. Almost meaning that she ruined a pair of Chanel boots in doing so. Will was never going to let her live this down if he found out, Lounds grimaced.

“You’re going to be the thumbnail to pay me back for these.” Lounds told the corpse as she took the cap off of her camera. She could almost hear the future phone call she was going to get from a certain agent.

“Jack,”

The man’s name was said like a gun being cocked by Kade. “Can you explain to me why some irrelevant tabloid reporter is solving FBI cold cases? Even better, why there is already a story up on TattleCrime about your current case? Or how she was miraculously at your crime scene in time to discover a seventh body?”

“I take it this is about Freddie Lounds?” Jack sighed.

“She’s making the FBI look incompetent.” Prurnell snapped, “How is she managing that?”

“She’s working with Will Graham on old cases.” Jack said.

“Put a stop to it.” Prurnell ordered without hesitation.

“She’s technically not doing anything illegal,” Jack sighed, “For once.”

“Figure it out. This is insult on top of injury.” Prurnell despised this entire time wasting cockup, “Where is she getting the information about the new case?”

“It’s not from Will Graham.”

“Are you sure about that?” Prurnell asked, “What about Hannibal Lecter?”

“What about him?”

“Could he be responsible for the breach in information? Could he be feeding Graham and Lounds details about the case?” Prurnell pressed.

“Hannibal Lecter is currently being invested, offering himself up freely for us to do so. He’s been vetted. Hannibal Lecter is an asset. I may not care for the man, but I trust him implicitly.” Jack assured.

Something that Hannibal continued to be very thorough about as he handed off a signed piece of paper to Bedelia.

“I'm giving you informed consent to
discuss me as your patient.” He told her.

“With who?” Bedelia asked as she studied the paperwork.

“Jack Crawford.” Was not what she wanted to hear.

“Disclosure of patient information
should always be limited to the requirements of the situation.” Bedelia said after a moment of deep consideration. “What's the situation, Hannibal?”

“Jack's merely being thorough.” Hannibal told her, pleased by her growing annoyance. What little he could detect slipping through her icy facade anyway.

“You're keeping Agent Crawford close.”

“We share an obsession.” Hannibal said, “I got to be Will Graham today.”

Earlier, he had been called out by a desperate Jack to a scene of human soup and lacquered bodies. The experience had invigorated Hannibal, the Ripper reveling in the newness of it. “I consulted at an FBI crime scene. I stood in Will's shoes. I looked through his eyes. And I saw death how I imagined he would see it.” He continued, giddy with excitement. Hannibal watched as Bedelia narrowed her eyes at him.

“What are you up to?” She finally asked.

“I'm being as open and honest as I
know how. As a reasonable person.”

“As a reasonable person, why are you inviting the FBI's scrutiny?”

“It would seem Jack Crawford is less
suspicious of me than you are.”

“Agent Crawford doesn't know what
you're capable of.”

“Neither do you.” Hannibal reminded, giving Bedelia reason to pause and reevaluate her responses before she said something extremely regrettable for her continued wellbeing.

“Clearly there are areas of your
therapy that I won't be discussing with the FBI or anyone else.” She decided.

“Yes, I know.”

“You maintain an air of transparency while putting me in the position to
lie for you,” Bedelia was angry and resentful, but being very careful not to express it. “Again.”

“You're not just lying for me.” Was said casually but Bedelia saw straight through the veneer to find the threat hidden within those words. It cooled the flames of her anger. She couldn’t afford to make a mistake or say the wrong thing.

“How far is this going to go? Your
flirtation with the FBI?” Bedelia asked cooly.

“I'm curious about that myself.” Made Bedelia want to throw something at Hannibal’s head.

“Was there anything else you wanted to discuss with me today?” Bedelia really wanted to crack open a nice bottle and go lie down for a bit, but Hannibal was all about politeness, pomp, and circumstance.

“Yes.” Was his overly short, unusually short answer.

“You seem hesitant. What is it?” Odd, Hannibal didn’t typically have things weighing too heavily on his mind, or in such an apparent manner.

“I may have not explained some plans to the best of my abilities.” Hannibal allowed himself to admit. Will’s indifference and constant rejection was beginning to weigh on him. It didn’t feel like Will was appreciating or participating in his plans.

“Plans that are not turning out how you predicted?”

“Yes.”

“Plans that have affected another person besides yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Directly, indirectly, or both?”

“Yes.”

“Would it be safe for me to say that the person affected is Will Graham?”

“Yes.”

“Are your plans part of the reason why he is currently in jail?”

Hannibal allowed his silence to answer that. As per usual, he would confirm or deny nothing.

“As you already know, but I’m remind you again, healthy communication is a vital key to any successful, long lasting relationship.” Bedelia said, “If you can’t be honest with him, how can Will be able to trust you in return and vice versa?”

“Hannibal, I don’t need to tell you that you’re highly intelligent.” She continued, “As is Will Graham, but his intelligence paired with his excessive empathy does not translate into him being psychic. He may understand how you feel better than anyone else, he may even be able to work out your motives to some degree, but that doesn’t mean he completely knows why you do what you do when you do it.”

“He should trust my judgment.” Hannibal said in a tight voice. The dawning realization that something was going horribly wrong was beginning to choke him.

“Why should he? Trust is earned. It’s only very rarely handed over, and Will Graham is not one of those people who would do so lightly to begin with.” Bedelia said, “Have you begun to see Will as an equal?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then why don’t you treat him like one?” Bedelia was fascinated by a rendered speechless Hannibal. It wouldn’t last long, but she was experiencing the rarity of it now so Bedelia pressed her advantage. “If your positions were reversed, if Will had schemed and implemented a plan that greatly disrupted your life, if Will Graham took your freedom away without asking or talking about it with you beforehand for some plan, how would that make you feel?”

Hannibal’s silence was a glorious win, her unwanted patient leaving her in peace as he stalked out of her house without another word. Allowing herself a smile now that she was alone again, Bedelia decided to open a special bottle of red that she had been saving for momentous occasions.

Bedelia knew she was going to have to make a permanent, life altering decision sooner rather than later. She couldn’t afford to put it off for much longer.

Chapter Text

I’m taking a break from this story for a while because I’ve gotten some very nasty and absolutely unnecessary comments. I want to produce work for a different fandom for a little while.

I will return to this after I work in some other projects for the Good Omens fandom. I’m not doing this to punish my nice loyal Fannibal readers. I will also never let anyone stop me from writing because they have their own issues and feel the need to take that out on other people.

Just a reminder, I don’t get paid to do this. I spend a lot of free time writing, editing, and proofreading absolutely FREE CONTENT. I mean, hell, my word count alone is 1,252,369. If you don’t believe me, go look at my stats. A book has around a 80,000 word count. I’ve written basically the equivalent of 16 books for FREE.

If you don’t like a story, don’t be an ungrateful dick about it. Move on and read something else, and get over yourself. Get therapy. Take a walk. Take a nap and drink some water. No fanfiction writer deserves to be abused because you have an issue with how the characters are portrayed, or if you have an issue with the story direction.

Leaving a comment like “this sucks” or “I don’t like this” is NOT CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM. Cussing and threatening a fanfiction writer is beyond unacceptable. It’s just you being an asshole because you want some sort of control back in your own life.

A GOOD example of constructive criticism is “hey English isn’t my first language and I don’t understand what’s going on.” Or “I like your story but you’re not using punctuation correctly and it’s really confusing me.” Or even, “thanks for writing this but there seems to be a major plot hole. Character A didn’t have this object or this ability and now they suddenly do, and it’s a little jarring.”

Anyway, that’s all I gotta say. I’ll see ya’ll on the flipside of life.