Disclaimer: I do not own NBC's "Hannibal" or any information pertaining to Thomas Harris' novels.
Warnings: Contains spoilers for all of Hannibal season one as well as Thomas Harris' novels, specifically Hannibal Rising. Contains as well canon appropriate violence, murder, emotional manipulation, and implied cannibalism.
No Visible Exit
Chapter One
"Miss Prudhomme." Hannibal greeted his newest patient for their first session. As an evening appointment, hers would be the last before he left for the night. "Please come in."
"Thank you, Dr. Lecter." She gave him a small smile as she entered the office, removing her burgundy peacoat and taking in every detail of its expanse while paying particular attention to the books lining his loft. "Your office is beautiful. Very… 'Sheridan Theatre'." The faint trace of French in her voice accented strange syllables, giving her speech a lilting cadence that most would find choppy but that Hannibal thought sounded natural and quite melodious to his trained ear.
Appreciation for the reference to the American realist showing in the slight smirk at the corner of his mouth, Hannibal replied casually as he moved to his desk to retrieve her file, "I can certainly see the relation, although Edward Hopper did not factor into the design; if he had, I might've forgotten the doors."
Her eyebrows raised lazily as her lips stretched into a minuscule smile, and she proceeded to her seat. "Not again."
They shared a look of mutual approval as he sat across from her, opening the file and reviewing the notes from his conference with her parents - while she was certainly old enough to handle her own affairs, her parents had insisted on the meeting. The file he scanned simply refreshed what they explained about her behavior and provided the paperwork from her prior psychiatrists - seven of them, to be exact.
In order to establish a foundation for his diagnosis, Hannibal began, "Tell me about yourself."
The preceding interest in her expression faded to a kind of quiet disappointment. When she spoke, her voice held a note of fatigue. "My name is Odette, I am nineteen years old; originally I'm from Pau, France, but we moved to America when I was about ten. Formerly, we lived in a house just outside of New York, but my parents thought a change of scenery would help me, so we now live in Baltimore." She shrugged, as if she had nothing left to explain.
"What of your education? " Hannibal inquired, recognizing that she would not willingly give up anything personal; she would simply continue to relay her history without addressing herself.
"I tested out of school when I was fifteen and began taking courses at Yale. At the end of the term, I'll have a bachelor's in music." She offered no further explanation of her interest in the subject, yet Hannibal understood that anyone willing to suffer through an Ivy League program, especially at the age that she had, would have to be both passionate and more than talented. As he theorized that music might be a method of reaching beneath her mask, Hannibal also felt his personal intrigue rise, wondering quietly if he would have the chance to listen to her play.
Continuing with his hypothesis, he questioned, "And may I ask what your instrument of choice is?"
Interestingly, she seemed to sense his manipulation and take it as a challenge. With narrowed eyes and a smirk, she answered ambiguously, "Asking a musician to choose an instrument is like asking a parent to choose a child."
Returning the repartee, he remarked, "Yet all parents play favorites."
Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she replied. "Ah, but they deny it to the very end."
Silently, he appreciated the natural banter, although it barred him from making his diagnosis. It was a type of companionship that he had not experienced in a very long time. While he knew a number of colleagues that came close, most regarded him at a distance, as if unconsciously responding to his natural predatory bearing. Alana Bloom would be the exception; however, even she had abstained from coming any closer than friendship.
But the young woman sitting in front of him either did not notice what others feared or chose not to respond to it; regardless, she seemed to view him… equally. She sat without tension, without watchful glances, without a note of apprehension. And that puzzled him as much as it pleased him.
He would need to be more careful, then, by both refusing his interest to cloud his diagnosis as well as keeping her at a distance. This young woman was clearly intelligent and perceptive enough to see through any cracks in his own facade.
Putting his mind back on the topic of her diagnosis, he made the deduction that she would most likely notice and ultimately thwart any of his sly methods due to the amount of psychiatry that she had already received. Perhaps going the direct route would be more prudent.
"What do you hope to accomplish with these sessions?" Hannibal inquired.
The slight up-twitch of her eyebrow told him she was surprised by his candor, yet she replied drily, "Apparently I need to be cured."
He addressed the clear ambiguity of her statement. "Of what, exactly?"
The note of fatigue crept back into her expression, and she answered, soft but harsh, "Myself, Dr. Lecter."
Hannibal assumed that notion derived from an authority figure - one that had obviously not gained her respect - as he noted the resentment in her voice. He managed also to define a quiet hope that she struggled desperately to staunch that perhaps someone might tell her otherwise.
But to be honest with himself, she appeared to have reason for her resentment; he had so far seen nothing to warrant the great sum of therapy she had received. At this point, he would only go as far as to say that she may have some form of depression considering the tired look that came over her at times. But it was a light depression at best.
In fact, her blasé statement about her education had told him much more than he had let on. He had seen no societal deviance; according to her academic record, she was nothing short of extraordinary. She appeared to have no dysfunction; she couldn't have while simultaneously progressing through close to four years in a prestigious music program. Currently, the only danger he could foresee was a danger to herself if her depression was allowed to progress.
With these inferences made, the only further diagnosis he could come to that included both the reasoning for her seven previous psychiatrists, her parents' desperate concern, and her seemingly quite normal appearance was that of psychopath.
That thought only increased his interest in her.
Nevertheless, she had no record of symptoms of Antisocial Personality Disorder emerging in her childhood, or even adolescence. No cruelty to animals, no legal altercations, no fire setting. The only symptom that fit with psychopathy was her trouble with parental authority. Strangely, authority figures other than her parents - teachers, employers, previous therapists - had apparently said nothing negative about her. Her parents were the only ones to raise a grievance.
Perhaps therein lied the answer he sought; he thought to observe her relationship with her parents.
Looking down at his wristwatch, he noted the remaining time and, deciding to use it proactively, he stated, "We have about fifteen minutes left in the session. However, I have no further questions for you. I do want to thank you for tolerating them, though, as I know it must be tedious to answer the same questions time and time again. I simply want to get to know you on my own terms, and I promise that next session will not be quite so orthodox." Standing, he gestured to the loft, remembering her earlier captivation with his collection. "You may browse if you wish; if anything catches your eye, please feel free to borrow it."
Her eyes lit up with gleeful anticipation, and she stood as well. "Thank you, Dr. Lecter." Crossing to the ladder, she climbed up and began to search for an intriguing tome.
Hannibal watched her habitually for a few moments before moving to sit at his desk for both paperwork and mulling over possible situations to observe her and her family in.
After finishing his paperwork, it took about two minutes to establish five different settings for possible examination. Another minute passed, and he narrowed the list to the obvious choice that would both allow him to observe and grant him the chance to gain more respect with his newest patient. Secretly, it was also a possible opportunity to listen to her play.
Coming to his decision, he watched her for the remaining five minutes of their session. She scanned the shelves with ease, a slight tilt to her head. Any selection that caught her eye was immediately snatched from the shelf and examined deftly by her scrutinous eye. It became a source of amusement for him as he began to detect more and more hesitation in her placement of the books back on the shelf.
Smiling despite himself, he scaled the ladder adeptly and plucked one of his favorites from the shelf. Her back was turned to him as he walked up to her. When he touched her arm to get her attention, she flinched violently and moved into the stance of one being attacked, her expression one of naked fury and fear.
Her expression caught his attention. While most people failed to notice his approach due to the near silence of his footsteps, he generally received apologetic expressions mixed with a chiding amusement turned inward at their overreaction. However, her reaction seemed to him so fluid and unconscious as to be qualified a habit.
Nevertheless, after a moment, he watched her eyes focus on his face in recognition, and she visibly relaxed, pretending - more to herself, he suspected - that she had not just prepared for an attack.
He was forced to admit that something about her expression disheartened him.
Ignoring that thought, he offered her the novel, going along with her game of pretend. "As our time is up, I thought I might make a recommendation. It is a personal favorite." She took the book from him willingly, without any hesitation at all, smiling appreciatively. He wondered what thought had convinced her to ignore her previous fear and anger.
After quickly scanning the back cover, she looked him in the eye, conveying her gratitude. "Thank you very much, Dr. Lecter." A wide smile stretched across her face, and he was struck by the contrast that happiness provided in comparison to her customary expression that seemed to convey a great weight on her shoulders.
He smiled back, once again filing a thought that he was not prepared to consider at the moment and escorting her to the top of the ladder. Climbing down first, he offered his hand for balance on the last few rungs. She took it without hesitation, offering another grateful smile; her hand felt like ice.
They both crossed to the door, which he opened for her as he would for any patient. She exited - he smelled a delicious blend of lilac, almond shampoo, and a refreshing perfume as she passed - and before she could go too far, Hannibal put his potential solution into action. "Miss Prudhomme." She stopped and turned to him curiously. "I would like to invite you and your family to dinner, if I may. Tomorrow at 8 o'clock."
Her expression turned to one of pleasant surprise and puzzlement, but she nodded. "I'll let them know."
As she resumed her departure, she made it halfway down the hallway before she halted. Spinning on her heel, she began, "You haven't given me-" He watched as an idea crossed her face, and a suspicious smirk appeared on her lips as she cut herself off. Opening the front cover of the book he had given her, she found what he had left her and smiled to herself, turning once again and proceeding to the exit, waving without looking back.
Finally closing the door to his office, he sat down at his desk for last minute paperwork and allowed himself a satisfied smile.
A / N : Thank you for reading & please let me know what you think! All reviews and constructive critiquing are welcome. The next chapter should be up within a week!
References : Firstly, the Edward Hopper reference - In an article from the LA Times, Patti Podesta, the production designer of "Hannibal", explains that Edward Hopper is one of the artists featured as inspiration for the set design (I believe his painting The Sheridan Theatre to be the most influential). Furthermore, Edward Hopper has simply forgotten to portray a door in a few of his paintings, most famously Nighthawks. When asked by a Chicago Tribute reporter about the philosophical meaning behind the diner having no clearly visible exits, Hopper responded "Sh**. F***. I did it again," and slammed his hat on his leg.
Secondly, in clinical psychology, modern judgements of abnormality are are not based on any one criteria; instead they are influenced by interaction of the Four D's - dysfunction, distress, deviance, and dangerousness. The Four D's together make up mental health professionals' definition of behaviors or feelings considered abnormal. They capture what most of us mean when we call something abnormal while avoiding some of the problems of using only the cultural relativism, unusualness, distress, and illness criteria. When Hannibal factors in Miss Prudhomme's outstanding academic records, this is the system he references.
Finally, Antisocial Personality Disorder - otherwise known as psychopathy. Personality disorders are unlike other mental disorders in that the distress addressed by the Four D's is actually experienced by the people who associate with the patient, rather than the patient himself, which is one reason why Hannibal is more inclined to believe her to possess a personality disorder over, for example, a mood disorder. Like most personality disorders, there are many factors that may contribute to the development of symptoms of this disorder. Because the symptoms are long lasting, the idea that symptoms begin to emerge in childhood or at least adolescence is well accepted. These adolescent symptoms (age 15 and under) include difficulty with authority, legal altercations, cruelty to animals, fire setting, and a dislike or anger toward authority. Some argue that a major component of this disorder is the reduced ability to feel empathy for other people. This inability to see the hurts, concerns, and other feelings of people often results in a disregard for these aspects of human interaction. Irresponsible behavior often accompanies this disorder as well as a lack of remorse for wrongdoings.
