A. N. : I am taking a break from angst to bring you, uh... murder ? But yeah, I had fun imagining how things would go if Hanibal was a (relatively) normal psychiatrist while Will was the cannibal serial killer. Might work some more on this verse someday. The title means "ode to the fisherman". It is also a play of words with "pécheur" - sinner. (For once my speaking French comes into use...)
It all starts with a shrike.
Young women disappearing, one found dead, a professor recruited by the FBI to profile the killer, and Alana Bloom wants Hannibal to make sure said professor doesn't break. That's the information Jack Crawford gives him.
Will Graham is an interesting person.
Pure empathy, and an overactive imagination. The ability to put himself in the shoes of the worst of killers, the ability to feel like a killer does. It's fascinating. A terrible gift, yes, but what Hannibal wouldn't give to – get closer – learn more – see more –
Hannibal has never hidden his interest in violent personalities to his colleagues anymore than to himself. Psychiatric circles love to discuss patients, in terms more or less respectful of professional confidentiality, and everyone has their favorite kind. Dr. Lecter enjoys watching the cruel minds, hearing the struggles they have with morality, imagining what could happen if he were to just give a little push in a certain direction.
He enjoys it like one enjoys walking in a museum, taking in the artworks like a delicate perfume, different and bizarre, nothing understandable using one's mind, but oh so fascinating.
His imagination could never match up to what Will Graham sees. He feels almost jealous of that.
(If he were a fish, Will Graham would no doubt be a very alluring fly.)
(He hopes the hook won't be too bitter.)
When the shrike mounts a girl on a stag head, Hannibal gets a taste of what his imagination never allowed him before.
It's beautiful. Being asked to work up a profile almost feels like a honor.
He can't resist knocking on Will Graham's door at the first occasion, thermos of coffee in hand. He thought about bringing breakfast too, but decided against it in the end. He does offer to cook though, or at least buy him a little something, especially when he sees Will Graham's half-asleep face.
Hannibal's help is politely turned down. Seems like Will Graham shares a hobby with him – with the addition of hunting and fishing for his food himself. A picky eater, it would seem.
The sausages are handmade, supposedly with deer meat but – Hannibal knows deer, knows his palate, and this, whatever this is – this isn't deer.
(He doesn't ask again.)
(The meat tastes delicious.)
The shrike isn't the Shrike. A shame, truly, but something tells him he will meet both of them sooner or later. Staying close to Will Graham is his best bet for that, and he doesn't mind at all. The company is pleasant, and there's something in his eyes that just… speaks to Hannibal.
They investigate a construction site. It's almost ironic how the simple lack of an address can lead to such devastating consequences – devastating for the Shrike at the very least.
Devastating for many more, Hannibal discovers soon enough, as he presses his hand against the throat of Abigail Hobbs and wishes the blood would flow in reverse. He doesn't want to let her die, not this young and innocent lamb – the death of children never sat well with him, especially young girls, especially when he was the one to fail them.
Garret Jacob Hobbs looks at him with dead eyes, and Hannibal wishes he could've been the one to pull that trigger. It's the second time in his life the urge to kill someone has been this strong, and yet once again he can't do anything – the dead can not die a second time alas.
Hannibal feels horribly weak.
(Will Graham looks at him and they truly see each other.)
(He can't wait to taste Will's cooking again.)