A/N: So I've been thinking a lot about Season 2 since the finale last night, and I have had a burning need to write things down. It is going to be multiple chapters, my first attempt at such, and I am pretty excited. There will be a few small differences from things established from the finale, the most significant being Hannibal is watching Will's dogs at his request, not Alana. Enough waiting. Onto the story.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I only wish these characters came from my head.
Hannibal walked down the hall of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. It seemed like a sick joke. He had walked down this same hall once before, preparing to confront his copycat murderer. He had been furious then, insulted that anyone had tried to duplicate his efforts, and done so poorly at that.
Now he was visiting his friend.
It was much harder for him this time. Alana had warned him that Will was hardly speaking to anyone. He occasionally sent out a note, Hannibal himself had received one, but for the most part he was silent. The acting director until Chilton returned, Hannibal hadn't bothered with his name, told him Will didn't cause any trouble, excepting their trip to Minnesota, but he wasn't doing anything to attempt to solve his problems either. Jack called in Hannibal, hoping the man would be able to even get Will to talk.
He couldn't refuse the request. Not only would it be out of character as Hannibal had never turned Will down before, but he needed to talk to Will. He needed to know how much Will remembered from that day in Minnesota. He needed to know what Will thought was true.
This was a selfish visit. If he didn't remember that day or wrote it off on the encephalitis, Hannibal would take Du Maurier's advice and leave; if he was speculative or remembered perfectly, Hannibal needed to stay and work to continue to work with Will, convince him everything in Minnesota was the encephalitis. From there, it would be difficult to make Will believe he had committed these murders, but it was definitely possible. He just needed to be sure Alana or Chilton did not interfere too much. He would need to be put down as Will's official psychiatrist.
That was all in the future. Today, Hannibal was here for answers. He was here for help solving a problem from the problem itself.
He paused in front of Will's cell, taking a moment to observe the man. He was bent over on his bed, thinking, just as Alana had said. Thinking was dangerous, Hannibal was more aware of that than most.
"Hello, Will."
Will rarely slept here. He went to bed when he was told, but he didn't want to risk breaking is train of thoughts with sleep. It was already too hard to think in here. If he did sleep, it was only because his body shut down on him.
The stag no longer haunted his dreams. It was replaced by the echoes of people. He never saw faces, but he could identify the new stars of his nightmares easily enough. Hannibal was there almost every night, always lurking in the corner of Will's eye. The rest were those that he was accused of killing. He followed them on endless hikes that lead only deeper into the mess of his mind.
Abigail acted as his guide. It was clear this was meant to make him feel guilty, but for some reason, he wasn't. Not in the way he should be. He regretted not being able to stop them, but he knew they were not his doing. After every forced sleep, he woke up shaking and damp, but more determined than before to prove himself innocent. That was his drive, what kept him going day to day.
He knew he should reach out to Alana, but he was the only one that could work this out. Part of him was afraid that if he was proven stable, he would lose his chance to be freed of the charges. He would lose his ability to see into the crime scenes.
He was sure of two things: he did not commit the murders and he was the only one that could prove it.
His thoughts were interrupted by footsteps coming down the hall. It was a practiced gait, the person giving the steps the perfect roll to prevent them from creating the typical echoing sound of dress shoes on concrete. His visitor would never adorn anything less, not here, not to see Will.
Will stood up at his name, walking over to stand in front of Hannibal. This man held all of the answers Will needed. The only challenge would be getting the truth out of him. Hannibal had been lying to him, manipulating him, but just as before, Will had no one else to turn to.
For the past several months, he had been sure Hannibal was trying to help him. He had trusted him completely, called him his friend. Now he didn't know what to believe. He could have done something, but instead he had used Will, taking advantage of him. Will just had no idea what he wanted out of it. He could have framed anyone.
Will looked up, meeting Hannibal's eyes with confidence. He was no longer afraid as he had been when Jack sent him to Hannibal's office for the first time, insisting his evaluation couldn't be done by a friend. If only he knew how far the pair would grow together. If only he could have seen how Will would snap. If only he acknowledged the fact Will was human, and he could be broken rather than just playing on the part of him that wanted to save lives.
"Hello, Dr. Lecter," Will answered, returning to the formalities he hadn't used since his first appointment.
Hannibal smiled. A smile that Will had never seen before. In countless sessions and trips to crimes scenes, hospital visits and shared meals, he had never really seen Hannibal look at him like this. Look at him like an equal.
"Please, call me Hannibal. There is no reason to be formal. We are friends"
"Friends. You aren't here as my friend. You are here because someone asked you to be, Jack or Alana more than likely. There is something more than that, though. You couldn't turn them down because you can't resist me," he chuckled. "You never could."
"I am here for no reason than because I want to be, you are correct. You have asked me to care for your dogs. You have come to me," Hannibal replied, his calm mask returning. The smile replaced by the empty one that he was familiar with. The game was back on.
"I know exactly why you are here. You came to say goodbye, you are afraid of me. This was supposed to be the last time you saw me until my court date, and then indefinitely after that."
"You have nothing to worry about when it comes to court. It is unlikely they will prove you were stable enough to remember the murders. You will still be charged with their deaths, but you will remain in a facility such as this one."
"There is no reason for me to stay in court," Will countered. "So I do have to worry about it. I am not going to take responsibility for murders I did not commit."
"Will, you need to accept that it is very likely you did commit these murders. You may never remember them, probably for the best, but all of the evidence points to you," Hannibal explained. Will wasn't buying it. He knew these crimes were not his. They were Hannibal's. He couldn't make that accusation now, not until he had more substantial evidence. He had to wait.
Will grabbed the bars that separated him from Hannibal with one hand. He may not be able to expose Hannibal, but he could try and draw information out of him. It was an unlikely gamble, but even if it failed, there were resources Will needed access to that only permission from his therapist would allow him. Alana would never go for it, but if Hannibal signed on his case it was another story.
"We are playing the same game you have been for months, only now I know the rules," Will said, a smile on his face now. He saw the allure of the manipulation. "You were feeding me answers, convincing me they were the truth and you were the only one I could trust. You were wrong. Maybe I can't trust Jack or Alana or Bev, but I can decide that for myself. If you taught me anything, it was that I can trust Will Graham."
Hannibal was silent, so Will took it as a cue to continue.
"You couldn't have thought I would simply surrender. You of all people know me better than that. You have another player now. Someone to challenge you. It was exactly what you wanted. At the same time, you were hoping I wouldn't know and you could just walk away. You made me too perfect, an equal instead of a challenging opponent. But I do know. So what are you going to do? It isn't like you to give up. We are both stubborn geniuses."
Hannibal's smile returned, and Will released the bar. He had the upper hand here. That was the benefit of sitting at rock bottom; there was nowhere lower to go.
"I don't see why you are so insistent on labeling me your enemy," Hannibal finally said.
"I'm not. I'm looking at myself as the enemy. I'm just not sure what team you are playing for." There was a short silence as the two considered what Will had said. He had planned out this conversation, but that was not a part of it. He was still afraid of seeing himself as the murderer.
"I should go," Hannibal suggested, taking a step away from the cell, breaking the bubble that had formed between them. For a moment it was like the bars had disappeared and they were back in Hannibal's office, Will wandering around, searching for answers among his therapist's trinkets.
"I need you to convince them to give me a pad of paper tomorrow, fresh pens, and images of the victims."
"Images of the ones you killed?"
"That I am accused of killing. That is a dangerous thing for you to insist on looking over."
Hannibal paused. "What makes you assume I am returning?"
"You can't stay away from the game. You have invested too much in it already. Too much in me."
"Say I do return. What do you want the supplies for?"
"I can't tell you that. Right now, I am the only one I can trust."
Hannibal nodded to himself. "Goodbye, Will."
"Until tomorrow, Dr. Lecter."
Hannibal sat in the familiar leather chair, his hands resting on the corners of the armrests. He sat in the same spot in the same way, but something was off. There were certain things he didn't speak about with Dr. Du Maurier and she did not ask. He was nervous that he had broken this barrier when he brought her dinner the other night.
Today, he had asked for a last minute appointment to ask her opinion as to what he should do about Will. He knew her answer, but it seemed more concrete coming from someone else. There was someone else to let part of the responsibility fall on. The pressure of a choice, his body count. They were both good things to share. They elicited a reaction.
"You couldn't stay away, could you?" she asked, leaning back in her own chair. Her fingers were intertwined and her hands rested on her crossed legs. The knowing smile on her face made him chuckle and look down. Of course she knew. There were some things he couldn't hide from her; if he tried he would risk letting bigger secrets slip out.
"I have to help Will. I cannot stand to see my friend suffering," Hannibal replied, his voice steady, meeting her eyes again and leaning back in his own chair.
"You say that, but I suspect it isn't true. I do know some about this case, from what you have told me and from what I have figured out from Jack's questions. Will is doing well; he is cooperating with the hospital. He may not be responding to treatment, but I am sure Dr. Bloom can handle it."
"I am his doctor. Dr. Bloom refused his case, and I know more about Will's disorder as a result. I need to help him walk free."
"You do not think he is guilty?"
"I cannot tell," Hannibal lied. "However, I do think he is capable of great things. Things he cannot accomplish behind bars."
"You are willing to fight to free a serial killer on the grounds that he has potential?" Hannibal turned to face the window, offering no comment. "You have turned him into you. That poor boy."
"You were my only companion. I saw an opportunity and I took it. Nothing more."
"You were looking for an equal. Someone that could compete with you mentally. I couldn't because I wasn't willing. I was too stable." They hadn't discussed this topic since Hannibal asked why they weren't friends. It was relegated to the list of avoided topics. It was the only way for them to maintain a steady relationship. It allowed Hannibal to keep returning. "Why did you save my life?"
"I like speaking with you. It helps me clear my head. I cannot keep everything to myself," Hannibal paused again. "I had grown fond of you."
"You sift through the thoughts of so many others, sometimes it is hard to listen to your own," Dr. Du Maurier translated. "I can understand that. The best therapists always see one themselves. I stopped that practice when I stopped seeing patients."
"You think it is time for this to stop?"
"I think it is time you stop seeing unstable cases, people that you cannot fix."
"Specifically Will Graham."
"Yes," she said before checking her watch. "Our time is almost over. Can I interest you in a glass of wine?" It was the usual routine, but tonight Hannibal had other priorities.
"I do not want to be rude, but I must decline. I have to talk with Jack Crawford. Will made a request today he will need to hear about." He stood to go. "Thank you for your time. It has been a pleasure as always."
"I am not your friend, Hannibal, and I never can be, but if you won't listen to me as your therapist, then do so as you would your acquaintance, whoever you would listen to. You need to stop seeing Will. I worry about what it will do for you."
"I trust and listen to Will, and he wishes for me to return. How can I deny him that?"
"You and I both know it wouldn't be that hard. You are in his head, but are you sure he has not found his way into yours?"
"I will keep that in mind when I call Jack and make my decision about tomorrow. Thank you."
She rose also, following Hannibal to the door. Hannibal turned to shake her hand and offer his regrets at turning down the wine once again, but she spoke before he could.
"If I am asked to testify against Will Graham and the dangers an unstable patient presents, I will not hesitate to tell them how I escaped my attacker," she stated. There was a warning in her eyes, and Hannibal knew it was to be taken seriously.
His downfall would be Will. He was as aware of that was Bedelia. He could not let this drop, though. He was far too invested. She was right, Will had gotten into Hannibal's head, and he needed a way to get him out. He was perfectly aware he was too invested. It was just helped to hear someone else say it before he called Jack and asked to be written a pass to see Will daily as his psychiatrist.
"I will keep that in mind. I will see you next week."
"And please make it a week," she replied with a small smile. "No more house calls. Your dinner was excellent, but unexpected."
"I understand. It was a moment of weakness. Goodbye."
"Good night, Hannibal." She shut the door behind him. He stood there for a moment before walking to his car. He had a long night ahead of him. Jack was not going to take Will's requests for the photographs well, but Hannibal needed to ensure their delivery.
He could not tear himself away from Will Graham, his most beautiful creation. He had come too far to give up on him now. The risk of being revealed was not enough to deter Hannibal. No, this was something much greater. This was his masterpiece, the defining creation of his career. His murders would be remembered as long as the Chesapeake Ripper, in the gruesome way one could not look away from a car accident, but passing out one's mind as soon as they reached their exit.
Will Graham would serve as something much stronger. What that was, he wasn't sure yet, but it was going to be glorious. He had no desire to be remembered, but he still felt a desire to leave something behind. For him, it was as simple as enjoying the killing, the manipulating. It was a game, just as Will had said, and it was Hannibal's favorite.
The public would want a reason why. They would not understand the thrill of killing, not like Hannibal, nor like Will had with Hobbs. That was what made Will so perfect. He would be expected to explain, but he couldn't. Not because he didn't know the answers, but because they would haunt him, terrify him, and that was enough.