Thank you the amazing feedback I have already gotten on this story! You guys rock!
When you read this chapter, keep in mind, that Hannibal is a manipulative little shit, who will do and say just about anything to get his way. Or, just remember that in general when it comes to Hannibal Lecter.
Beta: NemiNightingale
Closing the door to her apartment she turned around and leaned against the door, a small smile painting her lips.
She had officially made her first friend in Washington. Well, technically Will lived in Wolf Trap, but what was the point in getting technical about it? A friend was a friend. Or perhaps more of an acquaintance so far, but one with definite potential for friendship. After all, Will had more or less invited her over for Wolf Trap Starbucks coffee whenever she felt like coming around to 'try to convince him to sell the old place' as he had so delicately put it.
Even though she knew he was definitely not selling. No amount of persuasion, would convince him to sell the house, and that was what put Will Graham in the definite friend-potential section. He had granted her an excuse to visit, meaning he wanted her to visit.
And she could hardly wait.
Will had been more than amused the next time Ashland had shown up at his house, checkbook optimistically (and a bit ironically) in one hand, while the other mockingly grasped a bag of Starbucks coffee.
"You shouldn't have," Will said in that flat tone of voice Ashland was coming to recognize as being sarcastically amused.
"I know," Ashland replied in an annoyingly chipper voice. "I'm not sure what you put in the Wolf Trap brand of Starbucks, but it kind of needed a boost," she provoked, thoroughly enjoying how one of his eyebrows shot up at the quip at his coffee. He was so predictable sometimes.
"Two sugars and a splash of milk, if I remember correctly," Will shot back in the cool and collected way of a very self-assured man.
"There's nothing wrong with my coffee preferences, dear Will," she answered lightly, pushing the bag of coffee to his chest as she stepped past him to walk into the house.
"There's nothing wrong with my coffee," he said, sounding slightly affronted, before closing the door behind her, following her through the house into kitchen.
"I beg to differ," Ashland teased in a sing-song voice, inwardly snickering as it seemed to greatly annoy him when she was being unreasonably cheerful.
"You're worse than Hannibal," Will mumbled, inspecting the siren-logo on the overpriced coffee. Ashland scrunched her nose in confusion at the name. It sounded like a dog's name. Why would he be referring to a dog?
"Hanni-who?" she asked.
Did he have a new dog? He really needed to tell her if he had a new dog.
"Never mind."
Okay, no new dog then.
"Anyways, you're the one who's been boasting about practically being in the Starbucks franchise," Ashland explained, picking the conversation back up from where Will had trailed off. "I'm just making sure you're keeping up to standard," she reasoned, sending a quick wink at Will at the exasperated look he was sending her.
"Are we really still talking about that?"
"What would you prefer to talk about then? The weather?"
"Yes, it's terrible," Will drawled, clearly not very interested in the weather. "How about you tell me about yourself," he demanded more than asked, having quickly dismissed the tedious topic of the constant overcast weather in Washington in favor of satisfying his curiosity. He had yet to figure out why she was a blank spot on his radar, and he intended to find out.
Ashland shrugged.
"There isn't much to know," she warned, not wanting to bore him with the mundane details of her, so far, rather short life.
"Then I'm sure you won't mind telling me," he reasoned, pushing for information about her. Perhaps the answer to all of his questions lay in her past.
"Well, I just moved here..."
The next couple of months passed like the previous visits, with Ashland showing up uninvited on Will Graham's doorstep, a checkbook - which never found purpose - in hand. Sarcastic quips and comments were exchanged in place of pleasantries, and every time they learned just a little bit more about each other.
The name Hannibal was not uttered after that day, but that was about to change.
It was a dreary day as always in Wolf Trap. The winter air was crisp and refreshing, but the perpetual dusk left much to be desired.
It was on this day that Ashland had decided to visit Will, thinking he needed a good cheering up. The past couple of weeks he had seemed to have been in an even darker state of mind than he usually was, which was not boding entirely well, considering how he under normal circumstances had a slightly dark and bordering on depressing outlook on life. No matter how positive Will tried to be, Ashland could easily see it for what it was: a facade, a wall, a mask, a fog; obscuring the view for what was really hiding underneath.
Sometimes it unnerved her, but mostly it drew her in. Like most of her gender, the darkness brought out a maternal side in her, a need to nurture and to help. But despite these urges, Ashland knew she wouldn't be able to save Will from whatever was troubling him; only he would be able to do that, but she could be there for him while he was troubled. And be there she would.
It was with this thought in mind that she sped down the road to Will's house, another coffee-related gift sitting neatly on the passenger seat. One he didn't really need, would probably never use, and was actually much to expensive for her to be splurging on: coffee syrup. But the skeptically amused look on Will's face whenever Ashland innocently handed him a prank-gift with a neat silk bow wrapped around it was more than enough to make up for the cost of whatever she brought him.
She was humming as she pulled into the gravel driveway that led up to Will's house, in a good mood at the prospect of seeing her favorite dog-collector again. Normally, as the house came into view, Ashland would be focused on the settings of Will Graham's home, basking in the homely feel of the place. But this time, as the house came into view, her focus was swiftly shifted elsewhere.
She kept her eyes on the car in front of Will's house as she slowed down, parking behind the vehicle she had yet to take her eyes off and stepped outside, approaching the car with measured steps.
The object of her attention was what seemed to be a black Bentley looking distinctly out of place in its surroundings, much too fine and expensive to be parked in front of the quaint farmhouse. But the car's obvious expensiveness was not the only thing to put Ashland on edge. Will had never before during any of her visits had any other visitors than her. She knew he had other friends, of course. She wasn't naive enough to believe she was the only one, but somehow the physical evidence of Will Graham interacting with other people, was unsettling her. Given his standoffish attitude, Ashland figured Will was quite the lone wolf. He didn't exactly thrive on sociability.
Even though Ashland knew it was probably best leaving Will alone to deal with whatever person had showed up at his door, she couldn't help thinking back on her thoughts in the car. She had promised herself she would be there for him, and helping Will Graham did not involve running away with her tail between her legs at the first sign of trouble.
'Head up, chest out', she reminded herself and straightened up, walking towards the front door, her steps now strong and confident.
As she stepped onto the porch, a man - who was most definitely not Will Graham - strode out of the door, meeting her gaze straight on.
"Oh, hello," Ashland said in surprise, trying to mask her perplexed expression at the sight of the unnaturally immaculate person now standing in front of her. She gave him a quick once-over, taking in his impressive stature and unconventionally good looks.
His hair was neatly parted to the side, and his undoubtedly expensive suit was impeccably put together and perfectly pressed. She couldn't help but marvel at the exquisiteness of the almost otherworldly man in front of her.
And neither could she help but notice that he looked just as out of place here as the expensive car he drove.
"I don't believe we have met. My name is Hannibal Lecter, you must be Miss Vodall," he answered in a thick, indistinguishable accent, holding out a large hand in greeting.
"Will has told me a lot about you," Hannibal continued as Ashland smiled a light, but slightly strained smile while taking his hand.
He seemed like trouble.
"Indeed. Oh, he has? Should I be nervous?" she inquired in a slightly teasing tone, trying to conceal her very real nervousness. He was quite the impressive man, and his imposing figure was making her slightly unnerved, which was odd. Normally she thrived in the presence of other people, and especially connoisseurs such as the elegant man in front of her. Something was… off. Whether it was him as a person that had her flustered or the fact that he had clearly just been in Will Graham's house she wasn't certain of.
"Not at all, Will has been most generous in his praises of you," the stranger replied, closing the door behind him while reaching into his pocket. He withdrew a small key and turned around, locking the door before swiftly turning back to face her.
He had a key, meaning he had been in Will Graham's house without Will Graham in it. Definitely the latter option then.
"I am pleased to finally meet you in person. Will has somehow managed - and quite successfully if I may add - to keep me at a distance when it comes to you. I am most curious about you, Miss Vodall," he continued, putting Ashland in a further state of unsettlement.
Will had talked about her? And to this person of all people?
"Curious?" Ashland asked before further mumbling a short "I see," before swiftly keeping up the conversation.
"I must admit, I am flattered. I did not know Will had spoken so fondly of me, or even spoken of me at all. If I may ask, how do you know Will?"
"I am his psychiatrist," came the answer; one that had Ashland momentarily at a loss for words.
Will wasn't exactly the type of person to seek help from others, especially not when it came to such personal and delicate matters as the topic of his psyche.
"I wasn't aware he was in the need of a psychiatrist," Ashland replied shortly, making her underlying message clear: Does Will think he needs a psychiatrist?
"I believe there is a lot you are not aware of, Miss Vodall," Hannibal said, answering her underlying question: No, he doesn't, but someone else does.
'Interesting'
"I am not under the illusion that I know everything going on in Will's life," she acknowledged, the sentence translating easily to the unspoken conversation they were having: What do you know that I don't?
A short silence spread between them at the unspoken comment, signaling that there was indeed a lot Ashland did not know about their mutual friend.
"You should come to dinner. I always enjoy cooking for a new audience," Hannibal suddenly offered, the underlying promise of more information about Will shining clearly through the seemingly innocent offer.
"Is that an invitation?"
Will was sitting in one of the waiting chairs outside of the office as the door opened, revealing Hannibal and one of his previous appointments.
"Then I will see you next week, Franklyn."
Hannibal turned towards Will, ignoring Franklyn as he passed. Franklyn hesitated before walking out of the door, shooting one final look of jealousy at Will before leaving him alone with Hannibal. He was the man who had taken Hannibal from him. He would hardly ever look at him anymore. Not that Hannibal had ever been very attentive to Franklyn's need for companionship, but now that this guy was here Hannibal just ignored Franklyn as soon as they stepped foot out of the office.
"Will. Do you have an appointment?" Hannibal questioned, watching Will standing from the chair he was previously sitting stiffly in.
"No, I just needed to…" Will trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. He didn't really know why he was there; he just knew that he needed to be.
"Luckily, I have a cancellation," Hannibal answered, holding his door open for Will to pass him. "I would suggest to call ahead the next time," Hannibal said in a light tone, suggesting he did not really mind Will's surprise visit much. And as far as Will could see, the doctor had not looked surprised in the slightest at seeing Will in the waiting-room, as if he had expected to see him there.
Will shook the thoughts out of his head. Hannibal couldn't possibly have known he would be here.
Closing the door after Will, Hannibal followed Will into the center of the room, silently gesturing for him to take a seat while he unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down on the seat opposite Will.
"You don't look too surprised I'm here," Will stated with suspicion, a questioning tone coloring his statement.
"I had a feeling I would be seeing you soon," Hannibal answered enigmatically.
"Why?"
"You really must introduce me to Miss Vodall," came Hannibal's evasive answer.
So this was about Ashland.
"What does me being here have to do with her?" Will questioned, instantly going into a defensive position at the mention of Ashland. She was a bit of a sore point for him, and her being brought up made Will feel like Hannibal was deliberately poking a sore bruise.
'I suppose that is what good psychiatrists do; poke at mental bruises', Will thought, feeling annoyed with Hannibal's inquisitive nature all of a sudden. If the skill of a psychiatrist was measured in their ability to bring up unwanted topics, then Hannibal would be the best one out there.
"Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, Will. You speak of her so often, I merely wish to meet the woman who has you captivated," Hannibal asserted.
"What, so you can psychoanalyze her too?"
"I only wish to know what effect she has on you, but the fact that you are here speaks louder than anything I could possibly observe between you and Miss Vodall," Hannibal stated, sitting back into his chair with one leg crossed over the other as Will mirrored him, sitting back stiffly.
"Ashland. Her name is… Ashland," Will pointed out in a slightly strained voice. 'Miss Vodall' made her sound so… young.
"Perhaps it is time we finally talk about your mother," Hannibal said, seemingly letting Will off the hook and changing the subject.
"Again with the lazy psychiatry, Doctor Lecter," Will muttered, finally letting down his shoulders a bit at the change in subject, allowing himself to relax into the comfortable leather chair.
"It being lazy does not make it any less insightful," Hannibal pointed out diplomatically.
Will tensed visibly as he realized what Hannibal was getting at. He hadn't changed the subject.
"I fail to see how a mother complex could have anything to do with Ashland. She is younger than me," Will pointed out, failing to see Hannibal's point, but knowing he most likely had one. He usually had a theory lined up whenever he approached a subject like this.
"You care for her. You seek her approval," the psychiatrist stated, looking Will in the eyes, daring him to deny it.
"Am I that transparent?" Will asked sarcastically. He was really not in the mood to have this sort of conversation with Hannibal.
"No, but your troubles have been getting steadily worse after having met Miss Vodall. I am worried you are only seeing her to appease a need for female acceptance," Hannibal continued, stubbornly pushing his point.
"Could just have been the increasing amount of murders Jacks sends me off to look at. The crime scenes aren't exactly PG-rated," Will reasoned. "Why are you assuming I have a need for female acceptance?"
"I know trouble pertaining to women when I see it," Hannibal replied ambiguously, making Will pause before answering. Ashland wasn't trouble, was she? She didn't seem like it, even though she was partly to blame for his recently troubled mind.
"What do you suggest, Doctor," Will asked, not certain about what Hannibal was getting at. What did he want him to do about it?
"That you stop worrying," Hannibal answered "And perhaps talk to me about your mother," he added cheekily, already knowing the answer to that request before he had even voiced the inquiry.
"I am not talking to you about my mother," Will stated calmly. That was just not going to happen, no matter how many times Hannibal asked. "And it's not like I can just turn off a switch," Will added. "You of all people should know that the human psyche doesn't work like that," he continued, before mumbling a quiet "I would have done it long ago if it did," to himself.
"If you will not talk to me, then I suggest you go straight to the source of your worries," Hannibal concluded, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward to rest his forearms on his legs.
"You're suggesting I tell her," Will stated, mirroring Hannibal and leaning forward to rest his elbows right above his knees, drawing a hand to his face, trying to hide his frustrations behind his hand as his mask of indifference was cracking.
The prospect of talking to Ashland about his feelings was daunting at best.
"Not necessarily, but if that is what will help you clear your mind, then that is what you must do."
"And you're an expert on love all of a sudden?" Will asked. He dragged his hand down his face and let both his arms rest on his legs in a mirror of Hannibal, looking at him skeptically.
"I strive to be an expert on whatever separates humans from animals. Including, but not limited to love. And of course our distinctively good taste," Hannibal replied in a light and slightly teasing tone, gesturing towards the general surroundings of his study.
"Yes, I suspect you wouldn't find this sort of interior design in a fox den."
"I suppose that is lucky for the sheep. It would be far too easy to lure them in."
Ashland hesitated outside of Hannibal Lecter's house. She was nervous. After Hannibal had invited her for dinner the other day, they had decided on her coming over the day after, as Ashland wanted to get it over with. She didn't say that, of course, that would be rude, but she wanted to know what he wasn't telling her about Will, and she didn't want to wait any longer before finding out.
On one hand, she felt bad about going behind his back and talking to his psychiatrist about him, but on the other hand, he never really talked much about himself, even though he pretty much knew her life story by now. And it wasn't because she didn't ask - she did - he was just a very private person and was generally very evasive whenever she asked him about himself. She hadn't realized it before now, but as she stood outside Hannibal Lecter's house she came to the realization that it annoyed her. It annoyed her that Will wouldn't confide in her. And that annoyance had driven her to accept Mr. Lecter's dinner proposal, even though what she wanted most of all was to turn around and leave.
No matter how guilty she was supposed to be for doing this, she really couldn't bring herself to feel bad about it. Not when Will was unwittingly making her do stupid stuff by staying silent and keeping her in the dark.
'I will never know what is wrong if I don't take this into my own hands. And if I don't know what's wrong, I won't be able to help him,' Ashland reasoned, taking a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. She took a step back, releasing a shaky breath before the door opened, revealing the handsome Hannibal Lecter in a fine dress shirt. The sleeves were rolled up, and he was wearing an apron, making him look substantially less intimidating than he had looked the day they had first met. She liked this more approachable demeanor, despite her appreciation of a well-tailored suit. But, despite looking more approachable, it didn't put Ashland at ease. It seemed she would forever be uncomfortable in Doctor Lecter's presence.
"Good evening Doctor Lecter," she said pleasantly.
"Good evening, Miss Vodall, please do come in," he said, stepping to the side to allow her into his home.
She gave him a slight smile, stepping past him into the entrance hall.
He silently took her coat and hung it on a coat stand beside the door, walking towards a door leading towards the rest of the house and gesturing for her to follow him.
"I see you have exquisite taste when it comes to interior design," she commented, as they passed through the rooms. Everything he owned seemed to be so modern, yet with a classical twist. What she wouldn't give to have a house like this.
"Thank you. Though I do believe my tastes are far more exquisite when it comes to the culinary arts. But you will have a chance to be the judge of that in just a few short minutes," Hannibal answered as they entered the dining room where a table was set for two. "Please, take a seat," he added, holding out a chair for her.
"Thank you," Ashland said quietly, as she sat down in the offered chair, looking over the table that was set in front of her. It didn't surprise her that the table was set with several very expensive-looking flower arrangements and a multitude of wine glasses and plates. She looked up again as she noticed Hannibal rolling down his sleeves, and lifting a wine glass from the table, pouring in a blood red wine, suggesting they would be having something along the lines of beef or something else equally rich in taste.
She nodded at him in thanks as she lifted the glass from his hands, taking in the aroma of the wine before taking a small sip. It was good. Very good. Of course it was.
At her look of approval, Hannibal vanished out a door she had yet to enter, probably to finish dinner. She caught a short glimpse of what did indeed look to be the kitchen before the door closed behind him, and settled back in the chair, satisfied to just sit there and quietly sip wine until dinner was served. It was a luxury she wasn't used to, and one she couldn't normally afford. So what if it was with an unnerving psychiatrist? She was going to enjoy this, she decided.
He came back into the room a couple of minutes later, now with his suit jacket back on, and with a plate in each hand.
He set down a plate in front of her, afterwards setting his own down by his seat opposite her before sitting down by his plate.
"It looks delicious," Ashland complimented, in complete awe of the meal in front of her. It looked mouthwatering and like a piece of art, all at the same time. "What are we having?" she questioned, finally getting control over her salivating mouth.
"Filet mignon with a balsamic glaze and steamed asparagus," Hannibal answered, a slight smile on his lips at the look of pure awe painted on Ashland's face.
Few words were said as they ate. It seemed Hannibal was not going to make this easy for her. It took 10 minutes of silence, with no words filling the air but the customary "It tastes amazing," before Hannibal decided he wanted to start the conversation Ashland had been waiting for since Hannibal had opened the front door to greet her.
His first words shocked her.
"Will is quite infatuated with you."
"Excuse me?" Ashland asked, in complete shock after almost choking on the small sip of wine she had so unwisely decided to take just as Hannibal decided to speak up.
He didn't dignify her question with an answer, knowing fully well she had heard him, given her reaction.
"Infatuated? And may I ask how you know that, Doctor Lecter?" Ashland continued, as she realized that she had indeed heard him right, and would not be receiving an answer unless she said something.
"He told me. We talk quite frequently, if you remember Miss Vodall," came Hannibal's answer, as he casually looked down on his plate, cutting out a small piece of filet mignon.
"I do remember Doctor Lecter. Though I am surprised you are telling me this. I was under the impression you have a doctor-patient confidentiality agreement you have to uphold as a psychiatrist," she subtly accused. Well, perhaps not so subtly. But compared to the very bold statement Hannibal had just made she could easily classify her accusation as subtle.
"Of course. This was not told under the confidentiality between a doctor and his patient, but rather during a conversation between friends," he answered, not rising to her bait, and calmly but firmly disregarding the accusation.
"With all due respect, Doctor Lecter, I am his friend too. I believe he would have told me if he felt this way," Ashland said, setting down the wine glass she just realized she was still grasping tightly.
"As I have expressed earlier, there is a lot you do not know about Will. Under these circumstances I thought it prudent to inform you that Will has a fragile mind," Hannibal answered, getting right to the point.
'Finally we're getting somewhere', Ashland thought in relief, focusing all of her attention on the man in front of her.
"He has what you would call pure empathy," Hannibal continued, stopping his explanation for a second to see if she was following.
"Go on, please," Ashland urged on.
She wasn't quite following, but she figured Hannibal to be a very thorough person when explaining things and would question him later if need be.
"Every single word we speak, every choice we make, all contributes to how the world perceives us, and reflects how we perceive it; Will is simply better at interpreting these signs. He understands emotions and intentions better than anyone I have ever met or even heard of," Hannibal continued, proving her suspicion right. With Hannibal doing the explaining, she would not leave this house uninformed, that was for sure.
"If I may ask, why are you telling me all this?" Ashland asked. There didn't seem to be a logical reason for him to tell her. After all, she was just Will's friend, and a pretty newly appointed one at that.
"Will's mind is very vulnerable, and as his friend I merely seek to inform you of what you should expect, should you choose to enter a relationship with Will," Hannibal elaborated.
Had Ashland been drinking anything, she would have choked again as he mentioned the word 'relationship' in the same sentence as Will Graham. He didn't seem like the type to date. Anyone. Ever.
He seemed to be the type of person to grow old alone, with no one but his dogs to keep him company.
"As his psychiatrist however, I ask you to reconsider your relationship with Will. He does not need anymore worries than he already has, and a stable environment is detriment to ensure he remains stable," Hannibal continued, yet again shocking her with his bluntness. This guy didn't beat around the bush, did he?
"Which you don't believe I can provide him with," Ashland stated flatly, very much insulted at his assumptions.
Who was he to say that she couldn't give him a stable environment? He didn't even know her! Okay, so no, she hadn't really given much thought to being in a relationship with Will, as they had only known each other for a couple of months, but that didn't mean she hadn't imagined it once… or twice. Will Graham was an attractive man, any woman in her situation would have thought about it. And now that his psychiatrist pretty much told her to stay away from Will, her defiant side decided to show itself.
"While I know Will, I do not know you, Miss Vodall. Which is why I merely ask you to consider your relationship. It is not my place to ask you to leave Will alone, but as his friend I only want what is best for Will, as I am sure you do too," Hannibal elaborated, but the damage was already done. He might as well just have tried to save the conversation with a meek 'it was a joke' or 'no offense', but both knew he was very serious, and did mean at least a bit of offense. He seemed oddly possessive of Will, for one reason or another.
'Perhaps he's gay', she reasoned. It would make sense, with his clean, handsome looks and interest in interior design.
"Of course," she answered stiffly, deeply intent on staying very close to Will from now on. Hannibal Lecter would not win this fight. She did not care if she was coming between Hannibal and his man-crush, she would not be bullied away from her only friend in the whole state of Virginia.
"But how can you be so sure Will hasn't already told me about this... gift of his?" Ashland replied, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
"Will is not a person who willingly asks for help, no matter how much he may need it. If I know him as well as I believe I do, then I doubt he has told you anything about his condition," Hannibal met the challenge right on.
'Ouch.'
"And I do not believe you would have agreed to have dinner here tonight, had I not had information about Will," Hannibal finished off, finally deciding to eat the last, thin slice of filet mignon on his plate, effectively ending the short discussion.
"You're very perceptive," she remarked stiffly, looking slightly uncomfortable at the fact that he definitely knew she wasn't too fond of him.
"And you are very protective of Will. A trait you share with the other woman in Will's life," it came from Hannibal, giving yet another very clear signal for her that he knew Will better than she did. Better than she probably ever would.
She said nothing, but merely raised an eyebrow in question.
"I told you, there is a lot you do not know about Will Graham, Miss Vodall."