Disclaimer: I don't own NBC's "Hannibal." Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: Fourth part of the "Right kind of monster" series. Sequel to "The (right) kind of monster," "Labascate (but never yield)" & "Theomachy." I wanted to write a bit of pre-slash Preller where after Beverly was murdered, Hannibal came after Zeller next, only – unexpectedly - he bit off a bit more than he could chew and now the aftermath of that scenario (told in "The (right) kind of monster"} is being continued.
Disclaimer: vampires, vampirism, blood drinking, gore, blood, canon appropriate violence, adult language, mild animal traits/behaviors, pre-slash, drama, angst, domesticity, psychological trauma, mild sexual content.
Charmolypi
Chapter Two
He didn't sleep.
Sleep was for people who had more self awareness then he did. It was for people who didn't fuck up a relationship that had barely left the ground. It was for people who didn't force their methods of coping with trauma on others. Then judge them when they didn't meet the same time-frame. Sleep was for people who didn't expect their closest friend, now romantic partner, to be problem-free less than two months after almost dying. Horrifically, he should add. Considering the Ripper's usual gauche, hedonistic style.
Will had been suspiciously mum on that front. Only saying that Hannibal wanted to honor him.
That Brian's death had been meant as a courting gift.
A creepy, post-mortem elevation of someone in Will's inner orbit.
So, instead of sleeping, he got up at four in the morning after not sleeping a wink. Forcing down breakfast and in the lab before it was light out. Determined to do something- anything. Even if he didn't think there was anything to be found. He had to try. If only to be able to look at himself in the mirror without wincing.
He dumped the crime scene photos across one of the metal tables. Spreading them until the entire surface was smeared thick with regurgitated blood, foot impressions and darkness.
What was he looking for?
He might not know the answer, but there was a reason he was looking. For Brian or because of him. It was his way of connecting. Caring. His therapist had pointed it out when he'd almost worked himself to death after they'd lost Beverly. About acts of service being his love language. He didn't know what he thought about all that crap, but he couldn't deny he wasn't trying.
If he could just find something-
He skimmed the glossy prints before spreading the photos again. Mixing them up so that every time he looked everything was fresh. Or at least presented differently. Eyes flicking from left to right as the images started to blend together.
Brian sitting on the ambulance hitch - washed out and pale.
A bloody screwdriver with Brian's prints on it.
Hannibal's tie, torn just below a strangled looking Winsor knot. Like whoever or whatever had snapped it had done it in a single, brutal motion.
Brian retching, throat convulsing. Teeth warped long by the shadows. Some macabre trick of the light.
Hannibal's body sprawled across the ground like inelegant marble - throat a ruin of torn skin and severed arteries.
Brian's shirt smeared so thick with blood and forest-mud that it came off in layers when one of the techs unbagged it.
The inside of Hannibal's sedan.
A strange partial of teeth impressions that didn't match Brian's dental records.
Butcher's paper.
Twine.
Brian's saliva drip-dried into the carpet of Hannibal's trunk. The chemical compound of the sedative proven without a doubt when the techs had analyzed the fibers.
The-
"How long have you been here?" Brian asked, suddenly behind him. Making him jump despite the way the words aired out soft and wondering. Like he was already forgiven. But that only made him feel worse.
He looked up, back aching. Squinting at the clock as he tried to make sense of the lost time.
Had he really been at it for four hours already? Jesus.
Brian winced at his expression.
"Don't answer that."
He palmed the back of his neck with cold fingers. Easing the sore muscle as they stood together comfortably. It should have been awkward, but there was no ill-will in Brian's expression. It was more like he was just waiting. Wondering which of them was going to break the silence first.
Ugh. He needed coffee.
And just like that, Brian shifted to reveal a take-out tray with their usual order balanced between muffins, napkins and individual tubs of butter. He'd even remembered the plastic knives. He blinked. Brian never remembered the knives.
"What is it?" Brian asked, catching on.
He sighed.
"I'm an asshole," he muttered. Admitting it surprisingly easily despite the egotistical part of him that pointed out he wasn't in the wrong. Not when it came to the facts, anyway.
"Congratulations, you're in good company," Brian responded gamely, smiling tentatively as his eyes darted over to the sea of crime photos before fixing on him again.
"No, I mean- I'm sorry," he said instead, hands braced on either side of the photos. "You're dealing with it. You're trying. You don't need me hanging over your shoulder pretending like I have any idea what you've been through."
He shook his head, inhaling the familiar smell of Brian's aftershave. The scent itself barely there over the aroma of half-decent coffee.
"Whatever you're working through? You're doing it. And I haven't been- well, I haven't I've been supportive. I'm selfish, alright? I was so focused on you being okay- on keeping things the way they were, I forgot to notice if you were keeping your head above water."
Brian opened his mouth. Somehow managing to look attractive despite the dark shade of exhaustion he was wearing under his eyes. Palming the back of his neck in a tell he knew all too well.
"Getting that call was the best and worst night of my life. Best, because it meant you were still alive. And worst because you had to go through that and I wasn't- I wasn't there," he admitted. Aware it was probably going to cost him. Maybe not today, but in the future. "I dealt with it by prioritizing one of them over the other and I'm sorry."
He thought about the last time he'd seen Hannibal. It had been outside Jack's office a week after Beverly's funeral. More to the point, he thought about the way he'd never thought twice about Hannibal stopping them on their way back from lunch. He'd carried on to the lab, focused on a piece of evidence for their current case. Vaguely remembering Hannibal wanting to know something about Brian's new car. Was that how Hannibal had known he was alone that night? How he'd known where Brian lived? Was that how he'd placed the tracker they'd found in the wheel-well without anyone being wiser? The parking garage was video-monitored, but two guys lifting the hood and chatting amicably? Both with approved passes and familiar faces?
Retrospective was ridiculously cutting.
"It doesn't matter how you're dealing with it. I shouldn't have said what I did yesterday. I don't think I even meant it. Not all of it anyway."
Brian cleared his throat, like the next few words might come out pitchy and strained. It would have been endearing if he hadn't looked like he was facing a firing squad.
"I don't-"
He cut him off in a rush. Frustrated and maybe panicking a little. Needing him to understand this part, if nothing else. That he meant it. That the world wasn't so set that he was willing to take anything for granted anymore.
"I'm trying to say I want to help. Whatever it is you need to figure out? I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. So, lets do it together."
Brian's expression was gentle and flayed open. But also terrified for some reason he didn't understand. Like there were layers to the reality they were in and Brian was able to see more than one.
"You'd do that?" Brian questioned after a moment, soft like he didn't believe it. Eventually ruining the allusion of maturity by arching a brow. Familiar enough that it made him want to smile back, regardless if he felt like it or not. "I thought you were worried my therapy wasn't taking?"
Brian's eyes were a little like they'd been the night he'd brought him home. Watching him pad around in too short sleep pants and soft, spiky hair he'd only ever seen when the man was fresh from the shower. Dissociating and unsteady as the muscles in his legs twitched with after-shock shivers.
Like the ground they were standing on was far from hallowed.
But they were still here.
Still trying.
"Maybe it isn't," he shrugged. Deliberately skirting away from what he thought before focusing on what he'd been chasing since his shitty little euphony. "Or maybe that's just me being an asshole again. But I'm still here."
Brian sighed.
"Jimmy, there's something I need to tell you- probably show you, honestly. But-"
He was about to say something. Like this was a: 'one emotional bomb-shell per day zone, thanks.' Or maybe just break the tension and kiss the shit out of Brian's stupid face, when his phone rang.
"Price," he answered, clipped and professional. Like he wasn't looking into Brian's eyes, hoping the apology he hadn't gotten around to completely unpacking was at least understood.
"We have a case," Jack barked. Making Brian wince like he was the one with his ear to the phone and not him. Expression caught somewhere between relief and irritation. "Call Zeller. Pick him up if you have too. I want you both here in under an hour."
The man hung up before he could reply.
"Duty calls," Brian murmured, sending him an off-center grin as he knuckled the back of his head and stepped back. The first move of separation as they slowly spiraled away from each other. Slipping into their usual professional rhythms as Brian crossed the room and pulled out their field kits.
"Duty sounds crabby," he commented darkly. Rubbing at his temples with a jaw-cracking yawn until Brian jammed a coffee and muffin into his hand. Completely ignoring his stream of indignant, uncaffeinated protests as they headed towards the door.
"At least some things don't change," Brian quipped. Stealing a hit-and-run kiss as he lifted the keys to the SUV from his pocket. Already crowing shot-gun.
Asshole.
He grinned the entire way to the car anyway.
A/N: This part of the series is now finished. There will be another. Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think.