Will Graham approached the plexiglass slowly, and stood awkwardly, with his hands dangling at his sides. Hannibal Lecter knew he was coming shortly after he arrived, giving him time enough to quell his anticipation.
"Will, I'm surprised and delighted by your visit." He looked up from his bed, and stood. "What brings you here?"
Will Graham was breathing deeply; he bit his lips.
"Is it that you need some sort of closure? Resolution? You were quite confused, I'm sure, at the trial's conclusion. Are you still? That seems like years ago." He closed his dark eyes and inhaled deeply. "You're still wearing that atrocious aftershave. Disguises your scent almost entirely. How are you feeling-now that you've been treated? I've been concerned about you."
Graham was silent; his breaths were quick and loud.
"I'm being so rude; I'm rambling. It's been so long since I've had… human contact. Please, sit. There's a chair in that closet behind you."
Finally, Graham, voice nearly cracked, spoke.
"Don't act friendly with me, Lecter. We were never friends."
"That hurts my feelings, Will. It was a sad predicament to be in. But given the choice I'd rather live a lonely life than none at all. Unfortunately even the former didn't pan out."
"They couldn't give you the death penalty," said Will angrily. "You're here." He gestured to the cell. "You don't consider this to be living?"
"No, not at all," replied Lecter in an almost facetious manner. "I'm so bored. The food here is dreadful. They don't allow me to draw. I can't even admire a view from a window." He smiled. "I think I'm being driven to insanity."
"Insanity?" Choked Will. "You're already insane."
Lecter's eyes shifted. "You would define insanity so loosely, Will? As anything abnormal?"
"As anything that's sick," he said, visibly shaking, "as anything that's morbid, cruel, disgusting-"
"Will, where is that empathy of yours? What seems sick, morbid, cruel, and disgusting to you may seem natural, just, kind, and beautiful to someone else."
Will felt strange tears well in his eyes. He shook his head.
"I don't want to understand someone who thinks like that."
"You could understand. You're the only one in the world I do believe could get in my head, Will. Why don't you want to?" Lecter's lips were pursed together; he was nearly smiling. But his voice was tinged with emotion, and something strangely similar to desperation.
"Is it because you're afraid, Will?"
He continued. "Afraid you would find that we are more alike than we are different? That we are, in fact, very alike?"
"I'm nothing like you," he spat.
"It's been very good to see you," said Hannibal. "But I do imagine you'll be leaving now. Please do visit me again, Will. The only visitors I see are dilettante students and lonely sycophants."
He watched as Graham heaved a large sigh and trudged slowly, lifelessly down the hall; he did not say anything else that might have bothered the man. He knew it would be a long time before he saw him again.
