Psychoanalyze My Deductions.

By: Colvin

Chapter Four: Hannibal: Not Daddy's Favorite.

Tap. Tap. Tap. The impatient sound of my foot hitting off the floor drove both of us mad. It made the same constant rhythm and pitch again and again. When you listened to it closely it would start to engrave itself into your mind. Tap. Tap. Tap, there's not any sound. Tap. Tap. Tap, when everyone is around. Tap. Tap. Tap, your mind is addicted to the frequency of waves. It was stuck there for you to derive over your mental stability. Repeating words, phrases, sounds, imagines and feelings can make a person lose their sanity and the sound of my foot tapping made me question his.

He could sit there so still for ridiculous amounts of time. Leg folded over the other ever to quaint. Hands brought together, prayer style. The angle he chose to sit made my own spine crack several times. He kept the same stupid, emotionless stare on his face. You couldn't tell what he was thinking or feeling. I hated it. How could someone be so robot-like? However, the tap. Tap. Tap. Tapping of my foot would sure create a reaction out of him. I'm sure it would. I loved watching him getting annoyed, flustered, and aggravated. His head would twitch to the left, and his foot bounced up slightly. His eye muscles would contract, forcing him to blink. He tried his best to not say something but God, he wanted to. It was right there at the tip of his fancy tongue. The truth of how my foot tapping made him feel. Say it, you know you want to. I want to watch your composer crumble.

Of course, i wouldn't question my sanity. I was in control. I controlled the sound, it's intensity and the ability to stop was one of few things i had power over. If this was one of those mindless test he'd want to me do he'd be the subject this time. Forced to endure my test for as long as i wanted too. I am the commander. He, the compliance and obedience.

Why am i tapping my foot you may wonder. Because my stare was deep as i glared at the man in front of me, tapping my foot, waiting. No one was saying anything. That's why i was tapping. God, i fucking hate waiting. So as some kind of unknown punishment for coming to a halt all the sudden i tapped. Punishment, stress relief and a game all in one. What fun! Normally five minutes into our appointment's i'm running around the room, touching things i shouldn't and being places i don't need to be. Acting like a child. This time though, i tried to sit still, in one place. Copy him, but five minutes in and i was antsy, tapping and staring. What was next? Fast! Speak!

"Is… there something you want to talk about James?" He asked me.

I sat up, which made the tapping disappear and the tension relax to completely nothing. Just my eyes looking intently into his. Silence, unless you count the internal taping still going on in our heads.

"I know i told you to never psychoanalyze me out loud and i still stick by my word, but for this moment i give you permission to."

"Why do you want me to?"

"'Cause you're boring me to madness." I said jumping up into my seat, "Go on."

Hannibal, the poor man, continued to sit there, pulsed, unsure if i'd actually given him permission or not. Was it a game? To him and i, everything is a game, however sometimes there are no winners.

"...Well, in this present moment you seemed to have a great deal of bottled up energy for an unknown reason. Maybe you have something to share or just happy to be here. I think i know the answer. You aren't asking me to psychoanalyze you because you want to know your current mental status. That's not something you worry yourself with. But you ask because you want hear what i have to say and how i say it. I must be careful with the words i speak though, you wouldn't want to hear an ugly truth." He head tilted to the side, "James you know you've stayed too long in the darkest part of your subconscious and now you've brought something back with you. The oppressed invented memories of your father. Those invented memories cause you to have episodes that are increasing each time. Why did you bring them back James?"

He leaned forward in his chair, not taking his big hazel eyes off me. Eager for my answer. Proper to the man for trying to look like he cared.

I shrugged my shoulders, throwing up my arms carelessly.

"I'm stressed. This new movie and location has my world ablaze Doctor Lecter. It's apart of the job."

"I see."

"Continue."

"You don't adapt well with changes it seems. You feel vulnerable, weak and a easy target. Yet, you crave adventure, adrenaline inducing activities and a desire you fulfill your father's expectations, no matter the cost. But you don't have much of a choice do you?"

"They'll kill me if i don't successfully exceed my yearly goal."

"I'm aware. Last year you drug your feet to accomplish your said goal James."

"Living in someone else's image is hard." I said nonchalantly.

"I doesn't have to be." He sighed, "You only did it to test the limits of our relationship."

"You pasted so it doesn't matter. You're always five fucking steps ahead of everyone else."

His eyes scanned around the room. Picking up, focusing on particular objects then his attention returned back to me. Language.

"All of that is behind us now, isn't it?" Hannibal faintly smiled.

"Of course." I laughed.

Believe it or not Hannibal was a loyal man. He stuck to his word. Whether he wanted to or not he kept to it. I could trust him. Then again, i didn't have much of a choice. My father hired him more than anything to be my 'guardian angel'. Protecting me, guiding me, watching me and most of all he was sorta my version of God. If every year i failed to reach my set goal i was to be eliminated by Hannibal Lecter. The only man able to walk away with a free conscious. The only man able to get away with it. My father trusted him so i have to as well.

But just because i had to trust him doesn't mean he isn't tested time from time. Just like the refresh button on the internet trust has the same thing. You have to test people. What is new. How much faith can you really put in someone? I wasn't stupid. I was going to find out. Hannibal has yet to fail me and personality, with his high standards for the elements i don't think he ever will. Yes, he may have a strong dislike for me and my intellect but i know he'd miss it if i wasn't around. Who wouldn't?

"You've spent most of this session staring at me, tapping your foot to tempt a reaction out of me but you know i have a high tolerance. And..."

"It's ridiculous." I quickly interrupted but waved for him to continue.

"...And by the looks it this psychoanalyze was mainly to help us ease into a avoided conversation." He leaned back into his seat, propping his leg on the other, licking his lips quickly then speaking slow to me as if i was a child, "What's on your mind?"

Hannibal you loyal, smart yet fake man.

Suddenly, i shot up from my seat and paced around my chair. Watching my steps intently. Sitting was impossible. I had so much to say but little time to say it! My quickness made Hannibal cringe. He hated how unpredictable i was.

"What was my father like?" I said, clearly and cleanly coming out with it.

Hannibal was almost surprised at my bluntness. His eyes widen a bit and his head cocked to the side. He wasn't sure how respond. I wasn't going to beat around the bush with this. Maybe it wasn't my place to ask such a question and maybe… i didn't care.

"Forgive me, it's been well over twenty years since our last gathering. I was only a few years older than you."

His face looked to be thinking immensely hard but i knew he remembered quite well for it effected him for the rest of his life. He was just playing heedfully.

"He was an... erratic man. Much like yourself. It was only in brief moments we actually coincided. But in moments we intelligently discussed our opinions on certain matters. His demeanor was twisted in nature and i'm not sure i understood what he wanted to accomplish. I remember he had a strong desire to toy and terminate a English detective. I don't remember his name now. Tragically, our friendship only lasted for a very short amount of time."

"Did my father ask you to basically become my mentor or did you honorably place yourself in that position?"

"He mentioned it."

I drug my feet over to the cot Hannibal had in the middle of his room, throwing my body onto it with a deep sigh. It was like laying on a brick, "I think he'd be disappointed, don't you?"

"I'm not disappointed."

"Yes you are. You're disappointed you were the one to get stuck with me. I'm sure anyone would be, i'm not exactly peaches and cream to navigate." I smiled at the ceiling, "You're disappointed at the possible risk i put you at."

"I owe your father James."

"True, but doesn't mean you have to pretend to enjoy it."

Flustered, Hannibal adjusted in his seat, doing his best to level out his comfort and discomfort. He didn't want to have this talk. It made him remember exactly why he can't simply kill me until told to do so. He hated me, hated this.

"May i ask you something James?" Hannibal said in fake curious voice.

"Knock yourself out." I reply playfully.

"Why do you view me as a fatherly figure rather than your therapist?"

I turned my head toward him, matching my black eyes with his drowned hazel eyes. Sweetly, i smiled, "Because, i'm not daddy's favorite."

"What do you mean?"

I pulled myself up off the cot, swinging my legs to the opposite side away from Hannibal. My vision fixed itself on the slightly swaying curtains in front of me. Innocent white curtain swaying carelessly in the breeze.

"It's like somehow he knew i'd end up this way." I pulsed, taking a deep breath, "Then again, he controls ninety percent of my destiny. I'm the one who has to get their hands dirty. It's not fair i'm the one who had to live the poverty stricken life. Crawling on my hands and knees to complete my goals. He made them nearly impossible to finish. He didn't want me because he knew, somehow he knew i'd just fail him."

There was an awkwardly long pulsed silence between Hannibal and i. Rarely did we have meaningful talks. We both looked at them as glimpse of our weaknesses. Frailty. I hated talking about real things while he hated listening. Win-win-winning.

"Are you sure you just haven't disappointed yourself James?"

I snorted, "I met Ethan Hawke last week, we had coffee together. I'm far from a letdown to myself. In two years time i'll be having brunch with Julia Roberts, John Travolta and Kevin Bacon in italy, on a forty million yacht, drinking wine dating back to the civil war."

"What if this acting career is temporary?"

"I hope not. I'm really enjoying stepping on people."

"I think you have the charisma to be successful."

"I know." I sighed.

Just like every actor you have to start at the bottom, the very bottom. Practically begging for a part in a local play, an add on in a spaghetti western movie or faceless man in World War Two. It takes many years to get to the top. The things some people have to do in order to get there end up ruining their career, or killing them. Those kind of people don't belong in Hollywood.

I was pretty gifted though. I had what it took to shoot, not to the top but somewhere comfortable. In the middle. Form there i could only grow. And here i am, working on a movie that could possibly put me at the top. I wasn't the most important character in the film but it's be enough to do some damage. God, it was pleasurable just thinking about it. I was going to be big.

"I don't view you as a father figure, you are really all i have left of my father."

I stood up, turning back around to find Hannibal sitting exactly where he was in the beginning. So calm it burned to look at it. Nausea.

"I'm nothing like your father." His voice utter in a deep, dark tone. Hannibal was insulted. My, my.

"Oh but you are," I smiled, "Because if you weren't maybe i wouldn't come second best to a middle aged man who can't even pretend to act normal. Will Graham. Doctor Lecter didn't your mother ever teach you not to play with your food?"

Hannibal stood up slowly, straightening himself out as he arose. He did his best to collect his composer. It was never a good idea to talk about Will. But i couldn't help it. I was tired of fighting for his attention. I'm what's important to Hannibal, not Will. Fuck him! He's in an asylum rotting away just like he should be.

"Will Graham is not food James." Hannibal said slowly.

"Right, he's your little prodigy." I chuckled obnoxiously.

"You can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink."

"Then you can always drown it. A stubborn horse is worthless.."

"That doesn't mean you have to kill it. A horse can be broken."

Swiftly and without much movement i put on my coat, looking at Hannibal from under my lashes.

"Will Graham is already broken, you're just having fun shattering him into little, undefinable pieces."

I headed for the door, leaving Hannibal behind me. Normally he would lead me out, but not this time. Talking about Will Graham made his skin crawl, burn and his 'person suit' dissolve. Their relationship was unhealthy and for the solid reason Hannibal was getting attached. Shame. I never saw what he seen in Will. Maybe a large helping of emotionally unstable broken burger with a side of crazy fires.

I opened the door to exit his office, but was stopped by a thought i think i'd to share;

"Man," I sighed, "I wish someone would fuck with my sanity like that. Maybe i'd know what it was like to be special. Even to someone that only had bad intentions."

-End.

Careful what you wish for! James is so jelly of Will! What do you think, does James view Hannibal as a father figure from what you know so far? What kind of relationship should i create with James and Will and Hannibal and Will? How was the psychoanalyze? Reviews, please! Please Favorite, favorite ^.^ back to Sherlock next chapter.