AN-
Here is yet another story of wandering thought and misguided intent. Nocturnes is by Frederic Chopin. I do not own it, Hannibal or anything else used in this story without permission.oOo
In a small house just outside of Wolf Trap, Virginia, there was a man tied to his living room chair. He had been stripped naked with his legs secured apart wide. It was all the better for Hannibal to relieve him of his testicles to replace his eyes with them.
The doctor worked in silence. Unlike others of his kind, he worked efficiently and noiselessly without the narcissistic penchant to chat up his victim. There wasn't anything Hannibal wanted to talk to this man about anyway, his brand of madness one that Hannibal only had a deep seat disgust for. No cut of meat would be taken from him. One did not eat rancid meat.
It was from this silence that Hannibal was able to pinpoint the exact moment when the two of them were no longer alone. Hannibal paused in his work, still having one more testicle to go, turning to study the shadows that gathered on the other side of the poorly lit room. His victim lived alone and had done so his entire life, the universe merciful in some small ways, not many but a few. There was company there in that darkness, a presence that watched them both with interest and intent.
"May I help you?" Hannibal politely asked the shade.
"Perhaps you can enlighten me as to why you feel the need to torture and I presume, end Mr. Milton?" the darkness said, sounding more curious than condemning, a touch miffed but yet slightly amused in tone. The obscurity spoke in a low voice of a man who had been cut in line but was willing to be diplomatic about it.
"Besides the fact he is molester, rapist, and more recently, murderer of small children?" Hannibal mused, tapping his scalpel against his blood covered gloved hand. The topic of conversation was very much awake, Hannibal had made sure of that when he started, and was trying to seek help from this new person of interest. He was beginning to make Hannibal regret not gagging him. Begging was only worth listening to for so long, the noise becoming tiring and repetitive after a while. A small, non lethal cut to Mr. Milton's vocal chords alleviated that particular issue. "He also does not feel the need to apologize when he runs into strangers and makes them drop their shopping."
"You're killing him because he was rude?" the voice was definitely amused now. Hannibal was beginning to regret the use of low light on his part and his flair for the dramatic. It deepened the shadows, making them more opaque. There was enough illumination though for him to notice the glints of metal as the other killer shifted. He was obviously armed and had come here for a reason.
"May I ask what business you had with him? Though I wager I can make a reasonable guess." Hannibal asked as he turned his back to Mr. Milton. The bound man was of no consequence, not while there was a true threat moving in the dark behind him. It was a truly unique experience for Hannibal not to be the deadliest predator in the room.
"You mean besides the fact he is molester, rapist, and more recently, murderer of small children?" the shadow man snorted. His eyes adjusting more the longer he stared into the dark, Hannibal could make out the dull outline of a man only a touch smaller than himself, but built more compact. He made little to no sound when he did move and the scents coming off of him was an earthen mixture of canines, motor oil, and cheap cologne, the type of which that came in a white bottle with a ship upon it. "Carry on."
Hannibal fought back the urge to smile as he was pleasantly surprised, the other killer making no move to hinder or threaten him, seemingly more content to stay out of the light and watch Hannibal work. "I have every intention to." he said slowly, Mr. Milton's desperate attempts at communication coming out as wet clicking. It amazed Hannibal that this pitiful waste of skin for a human being was still trying to ask for help.
"Well, don't let me stop you. I think in his final moments, Mr. Milton should fully experience the realization that not one but two psychopaths came for him tonight. It might put Hell into better perspective for him." the shadow man shrugged, Hannibal hearing the movement of his clothing, multiple layers of it from the sounds of shifting cotton. "Are you planning on keeping him alive to the end?"
"Of course. What would be the point otherwise?" Hannibal allowed himself a small smile as he turned his attention back to Mr. Milton who was doing his best to pass out. A shot of adrenalin to his heart kept this from happening. Hannibal felt a little thrill when his efforts were softly applauded.
Though he had considered himself an artist for years, Hannibal had never worked in front of an audience before. His victims didn't count. Meat had no right to an opinion. Even though this one remained faceless, Hannibal knew that every movement, every flourish with the blade he made was keenly watched. Furthermore, it was enjoyed.
The other killer stayed up to the very end of Mr. Milton's poor proof of life, present but allowing the space of silence Hannibal needed to work in, offering no other comment, insight, or suggestion afterward from his hiding place. Hannibal didn't know whether to feel disappointed or grateful.
What Hannibal did feel with a definite certainty was appreciated.
oOo
"Tasteless."
Turning from the board of dead girls he had been studying, Hannibal regarded the only man in the room worth noting, one who sat slumped in his seat like the weight of the world was upon him.
Hannibal had only agreed to work for the FBI because declining Jack Crawford's offer might have drawn negative attention to himself. The thought of working closely with the man devoted to his own capture and incarceration held its own allure as well. At the agent's request, he had gone into Jack's office with every intention of giving a professional but brief analysis of the profiler in question. Hannibal never expected to meet his murderer from the dark there.
The shadow man's name was Will Graham who turned out not only to be a teacher at the FBI academy but a profiler as well, one with unique abilities and insights. If they only knew how unique those abilities and insights were, how they had been obtained and honed.
"I think the saying 'It takes a thief to catch a thief.' applies here. Or sadist in this case." Hannibal thought to himself as he appraised the unexpected gift he had been presented with. The man's scent alone confirmed who he was though the initial visual of the man was disappointing. Thick glasses that were too small for his face pressed into skin, hiding eyes that would have been beautiful to look at if they ever lost their look of distrust and discontent, Will all but glaring at Hannibal.
"Do you have trouble with taste?" Hannibal poked, unable to resist. He could feel the long side glances that Will had been throwing his way since their introduction. Hannibal knew he had been recognized as well but for some strange reason, it thrilled more than it bothered him. It made him want to spar with this man, see how far he could push this or how many buttons he could press with them having an audience.
"My thoughts are often not….tasty." Will said, picking up on the game to poke back. Hannibal deemed it would be inappropriate to smile while looking at murdered girls, though the urge to do so was there.
"Nor mine." Hannibal told him, making of show of studying the board though he could perfectly recall every minuet detail of it now. "No effective barriers?"
"I build forts." Will said, taking a sip of his tepid coffee.
"Associations come quickly." Hannibal verbally jabbed.
"So do forts." Will countered. A glance over at Jack found the man intent upon their conversation but having no real idea what it was truly about, which was part of the point and enjoyment.
Deciding to up the ante, Hannibal took a seat next to Will and tried to catch his eyes, only to find the other man's gaze darting about wildly. "Not fond of eye contact, are you." was more of a statement than a question, one that Hannibal made as he pretended to drink what was laughingly passed for coffee in the Quantico headquarters.
His efforts were not appreciated. "Eyes are distracting. See too much. Don't see enough." Will drawled out, turning to fully face Hannibal for the first time, at least in the light. He met the doctor's gaze head on, letting Hannibal know just how un-amused he was by all this. "And it's hard to focus when you're thinking 'Are those whites really white?" or 'He must have hepatitis.' or 'Is that a burst vein?'."
Hannibal was smiled at the underlying insults, pleased that he had gotten Will to sink to this level with him so easily. Something about it felt off though, Hannibal's quick mind working to dissect the other man's words. "So….yeah. I try to avoid eyes whenever possible." Will finished, turning bodily away to break their point of contact. "Jack."
As brief as the exchange was, it had been more than enough personal insight for Hannibal to fuel to his own sets of gifts. Will had not been talking about himself. 'When you're thinking' was in reference to other people, how other people saw him, what they thought of him from their perspective of him. Hannibal knew now that Will had a very good reason for avoiding eye contact. He was a being of pure empathy.
The idea of it almost made Hannibal giddy when the knowledge applied itself to what else he knew of Will. It was of no wonder to him now why Will had stayed to watch Hannibal geld and blind Mr. Milton. There was no need for him to offer any input because he had already become the killer without even having to lift a finger. As exciting as the discovery was, it left Hannibal feeling a little used.
"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 at your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for the things you love." Hannibal lashed out in controlled anger. Will's eyes narrowed in answer, obviously offended as the remark's whip left its vivid mark.
"Whose profile are you working on?" Will snapped at Jack before turning back to Hannibal to ask him properly. "Whose profile are you working on?"
"I'm sorry, Will." Hannibal apologized without doing so at all. "Observing is what we do. I can't shut mine off any more than you can shut yours off." He knew that the blow had landing bloody as Will made his parting complaints and all but ran out of Jack's office.
"Maybe we shouldn't poke him like that doctor…" Jack started to gently reprimand, the rest of it lost as Hannibal tuned him out. On the contrary, Hannibal intended to do just that.
oOo
"I'm very careful about what I put into my body. Which means I end up preparing most meals myself. A little protein scramble to start the day. Some eggs. Some sausage."
"Some Cassie Boyles?" Will assessed the meat in question with morning grumpiness before deigning to eat it. From the look of surprise that followed Hannibal could tell that Will hadn't expected the food to taste as good as it did. He tried not to feel too insulted. They were still in the early stages of whatever this was turning into to between them. "It's delicious. Thank you."
"My pleasure." Hannibal all but purred. He was pleased that Will was not a finicky eater. His particular brand of madness was not to everyone else's taste. Still, it would have been disappointed to have to kill Will even before he had the chance to enjoy one of Hannibal's meals.
"I would apologize for my analytical ambush but I know I will soon be apologizing again and you'll tire of that eventually so I have to consider using apologies sparingly." Hannibal offered in exchange for the compliment, meager as it was.
"Just keep it professional." Will snapped, taken out of the enjoyment of his breakfast to Hannibal's regret, the older man hiding his sigh behind a bite of food.
"Or we could socialize like adults. God forbid we become friendly." Hannibal taunted lightly back.
"I don't find you that interesting." Will said flatly, giving Hannibal a very unimpressed look.
"You did and you will again." Hannibal shrugged even as the back of his neck prickled with irritation.
"What? Your field kabuki? Hardly. It was the homicidal equivalent of fecal smearing." Will dismissed, rolling his eyes as he waved his fork at him. "It was a cry for attention."
Hannibal ignored the blatant insults, tapping down his anger. There would be time for all that later. Their current conversation was too intriguing to end just yet in blood. "Agent Crawford tells me that you have a knack for the monsters. I wonder what he would think about the one he is currently working with."
"I tried to dissuade him for seeking my insights." Will sighed. "He is a stubborn man."
"You couldn't resist mocking them anymore than I could though." Hannibal pointed out to be met with a world-weary look, Will obviously judging him for missing a point.
"It's not mocking. I have every intention on catching this killer. This cannibal who tucks girls he has no use for back into bed." Will corrected.
"But not the one who sits across from you? Why is that?" Hannibal asked, curiously. So far Will had not given any indication that he meant him harm or capture.
"I told you already. I don't find you that interesting." Will said in a dry tone. Hannibal made a point of setting down his silverware to keep from reacting negatively, instead folding his hands to lean his chin upon them. Will arched an brow at the gesture but remained watchful, eating his eggs and people sausage.
"Have you already reconstructed this strike fellow's fantasies? What kind of problems does he have?" Hannibal decided to was time for a change in tactics.
"He has a few." Will gave away nothing, telling Hannibal in a so few words that he didn't want to play.
"Ever have any problems, Will?" Hannibal pressed.
"No." Will smirked, knowing that he was being annoying as he poured himself more coffee.
"Of course you don't. You and I are just alike. Problem free. Nothing about us to feel horrible about." Hannibal said, drawing a dark chuckle from Will, who grinned openly at the psychopath's assessment of them. "I do appreciate the efforts you have gone to though, hiding yourself in plain sight."
"Like you have, Doctor Lecter?" Will said, putting special emphasis on Hannibal's title.
"I think Uncle Jack sees you as a fragile little teacup, the finest china used only for special guests. It is a wonderful misperception you have cultivated." Hannibal taunted and complimented all in one go, earning him a bout of rough laughter from Will.
"How do you see me?" Will asked, still laughing.
Hannibal waited until the other had quieted down before answering. "The mongoose I want under the house when the snakes slither by." Hannibal answered, possibly the most honest thing he had stated to another human being in a long while. It had the effect he wanted, Will sobering up to regard Hannibal coolly from behind half lidded eyes the color of tempest moving over open water.
"Mongooses kill snakes." Will said without any particular emotion attached to his words. Hannibal noticed that the knife was missing from the table. He could safely presume where it was.
"And vice versa." Hannibal smiled, nodding toward the remaining food. "Finish your breakfast."
oOo
Killing Will outright would have been too risky so Hannibal decided to come at the profiler from the side by enlisting the help of Garret Jacob Hobbs to do so. Unfortunately the man turned out to be more unstable than either Will or him realized. Will took him down like a rapid dog but not before the man murdered his wife and daughter with time enough to link his psyche to Hobbs in his dying moments. If not for the siren's call of backup to the scene, they might have had it out between them. As it was, the pair of killers quietly studied each other as they waited for the everyone else to arrive.
Tense and intense as it was, Hannibal couldn't help but admire the blood spray that patterned itself across Will's face and clothing as delicately as the lace on a bride's veil.
The look of quiet murder in Will's eyes was just as refined, and it was all for Hannibal.