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desert-fern · 8 months

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A Gun Amongst Daggers - Jake “Hangman” Seresin X Fem!Navy Seal Reader

Part 22: Reunion

Summary: When Jake meets a woman at the Hard Deck, the last thing he expects is for her to be a Navy Seal. And not just any Seal, the Commander of Seal Team 3. She’s beautiful, smart, dangerous, and everything about her just makes him want to get close. Her name? Bear. When the Seals need backup, Cyclone puts the Daggers on their radar and now, Jake has to work with Bear and her team, all the while trying to stay professional. Can he do it? Or will he end up falling for the Navy sniper and mission Commander?

* image by Ilaria Ubinati, found on Pinterest*

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE! 18+ ONLY. MINORS & BLOGS WITH NO AGE/EMPTY BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Warnings: Bear gets a little existential, her team is amazing and supportive, really not much else imo

Word Count: 3.9k

Masterlist >> Part 21 >> Part 23

===

It had been nearly 5 months since Bear had left the deck of the USS Abraham Lincoln in order to meet with Admirals Will “Shark” Harris, Beau “Cyclone” Simpson, and Navy psychologist, Dr. Hazelwood. They had required her to take a mandatory leave effective immediately, weekly sessions with Dr. Hazelwood, and had barred her from engaging in discussions relating to the day to day operations of the US Navy and its members, as well as forbidding any contact with those directly involved in the investigation of what would be former Lieutenant Commander Colton “Hazard” Richards.

Needless to say, the third condition struck a nerve in the Commander. Her team was her family, as she had said numerous times, and in her mind, it was needlessly cruel. The rest of her orders she could understand. Hazard had been taken off the ship directly by NCIS agents along with the rest of his so-called team, and she knew that Bug, FAK, Daisy, Shrike, Jake and a few others would be crucial in building the case against these five. But that also meant she couldn’t talk to them until after they had finished up their parts for the agents and the prosecution.

She couldn’t talk to her family. Nor they to her, and it tore her heart to shreds.

But Bear just nodded, gritting her teeth in frustration. “Sirs, may I suggest a change to the conditions?”

Admiral Simpson looked surprised at her boldness, but her boss, Admiral Harris had expected this and motioned for her to continue regardless of the look on his colleague’s face. “You may, Commander.”

“I would like to request a psychologist not connected to the US Navy.” Bear’s tone was even, controlled. She knew what she needed and unfortunately this psychologist wouldn’t be it. “I mean no disrespect to you, ma’am. I have no doubt of your qualifications, but in order for me to be at the level I need to be, I require counseling from someone that isn’t going to sign off on me the second I show even a fraction of improvement.” This was a genuine concern. Bear knew that if they could slap an ‘all better’ on her file right now, then they would. However, for her sake, for the sake of her team, Bear had to be at her best and right now, she was far from it.

Harris raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “And who exactly is going to fill in for Dr. Hazelwood?” He had been caught off guard by Bear yet again. Both he and Cyclone had figured that Bear would want to be put back into the field as soon as possible. Neither one of them had considered this request as something that she would ever bring up.

“I’m sure that there are private psychologists who have been vetted by the Navy should this ever arise.” She met Cyclone’s gaze and held it, refusing to even entertain the idea of a compromise. Bear knew that she was damaged, that her experiences had broken something inside of her that couldn’t be fixed with three sessions and a bandaid. She needed help, and deep down, Bear knew that she would walk away from this life if she couldn’t get the help she needed. “This is one of those circumstances.”

Cyclone glanced at Shark before nodding. “We’ll see that that is done, Commander. And may I commend you for your professionalism at this time. It is a rare thing.”

Bear nodded in thanks, her jaw feeling like it had been wired shut. She shifted on her feet, ignoring the itchiness of a scab on her side while the Admirals talked at her, discussing item after item, barely taking more than a few seconds to ensure that the information was being absorbed. She had been in that office for far too long and her mind was nearly at its breaking point.

Now though, Bear sat on her couch, wrapped up in a blanket as she stared at the wall. Today’s session had left her emotionally drained and she wanted nothing more than to be with someone, to be near someone. She had gone home to Vermont almost immediately after her leave had been approved and spent two of the five months with her moms, both loving and hating the familiarity of it all.

She recognized the feeling as the same one that had hit her after her first deployment. Bear had gone home and the world had seemed different. The lush forests that she used to train in, the well-worn trails feeling foreign, the overall peaceful serenity unnerving. It was almost like she had stepped back into a life that wasn’t hers, a period of her history that had faded and been lost to time. She distantly remembered sobbing in her mother’s arms, the reason long forgotten to time, memory, and pain.

Since that time however, Bear had grown stronger and bolder, grown into who she was now. Rather, who she had been before Hazard and his goons tried to ascertain a command of their own. She knew that eventually the pain would heal, and thanks to Dr. Carter, her new psychologist vetted personally by Admiral Harris, Bear was well on her way to managing the nightmares, trauma, and the sting of betrayal brought in spades by Operation Hellfire.

So Bear sat, the silence filling her, bringing her a semblance of peace. She had recovered slowly; spending hours focusing on her breathing, going to the gym on nights that sleep eluded her, writing down what she could about her day, and just did her best to heal. She couldn’t recall the last time she had had so much time to do what she wanted and it was both scary and freeing.

The prosecution had finished with her main team three months after her leave had begun and Bear had cried after getting the email from Harris that she could chat with a few of her team, namely Fireball and Bug. The lawyers had wanted to spend longer talking to those who had been directly impacted by Hazard’s actions and those who had been crucial in putting together the evidence for them.

She had given her own initial testimony days after being put on leave, much to the anger of Admiral Harris who had demanded that his Commander be allowed time to recover from her ordeal. It had been difficult. She had barely been able to piece together sentences of her experience, the words getting lost in the fear and pain she had been through, but she had persevered. She pushed through it, tearing open the mental wounds she had spent weeks trying to heal and in her pain, her tears, Bear had found it within her to admonish the prosecutor who demanded answers. He had been stunned into silence from the force of her words as she stood shaking in front of him.

He had backed off. Given her time. He had requested time to speak with her again a month ago and she had felt ready, so Bear had finally worked through the apprehension and spoke with him, detailing what she could remember. He thanked her, offering his apologies for his brusque nature the first time they had met, and told Bear that he would call if he had any more questions.

And despite all obstacles against her, Bear was healing. Today’s session hadn’t made her burst into tears. It wasn’t much, but it was progress. Progress that she was immensely proud of. Bear had also heard from Dr. Carter that her mandatory leave was up soon, and that Cyclone and Shark wanted to meet with her in a few days.

She was ready. Bear was ready to see her team again, her family. Maybe if she impressed her bosses, they would let her train with her team. The mere thought had her smiling widely as she picked herself up from the couch and wandered into the kitchen to make dinner. It was nothing fancy, but Bear still found herself dancing as she cooked, the joy seeming to radiate off of her. “If only Jake were here,” she thought. “Then it would be perfect.”

===

The day of her meeting came quickly, and Bear had never been more excited to put her uniform on than today. It beat out the first time she had put it on by a mile and she didn’t quite know what to make of that. Each button fastened brought her closer to her goal: Harris and Simpson had to be convinced that she was better, that she wasn’t a risk.

Bear grabbed her backpack, keys, phone, and wallet and slipped out the front door of her house. The same house that had once stood out for being starkly unlived in, now seemed to blend in a little more. The flower beds were now full and blooming in colors they never had before, the lawn was clipped, and it looked like a home. With all the time on her hands, the work made her feel normal. It had been a source of peace for her while she recovered and it continuously made her grin as she drove the roads to the base.

The guard at the entrance to the base had shouted “Welcome home!” when she had rolled her window down and his enthusiasm made her laugh as she handed him her new ID.

“It’s good to be back.” Bear took back her card, waving to him as she drove into the base, parking as close as she could to the Admiral’s office and slowly made her way inside, passing colleagues and friends who each greeted her with smiles, handshakes and hugs.

“Commander. It’s good to see you.”

“Sirs.” Bear couldn’t help but grin a little as she saluted the two men before her. “It’s good to be back.”

“At ease, Commander.” Cyclone gestured for her to take a seat in front of him, eyes watching Bear as she did. “We received word from Dr. Carter that she feels you are ready to come back.”

“Yes Sir. I was informed of the same.” Bear shuffled in her chair, trying to get comfortable. The cold sterility of the meeting room they sat in never failed to make her uncomfortable and today was no different, especially when she was waiting desperately to see those whom she hadn’t seen in over five long months.

Admiral Harris glanced over at Bear. “And do you feel the same?” He could sense her eagerness to return to the job, his Commander was hardly subtle in that regard. Her love for her job and her people was something he hoped her successor would possess and from what he had seen from Bug, he knew that Team 3 was in phenomenal hands.

“I do. I don’t think I’m ready to be deployed immediately, but I feel ready to rejoin my team, to start training again.” Bear knew what she wanted from this meeting, and she could tell that the men across from her knew it too, but this was still a formality that they all had to go through.

“I see.”

And the conversation continued from there. By the end, the two Admirals had decided that while Bear still needed to pass a psychological exam by a Navy psychologist, she was essentially cleared to train again with her team.

It was like she was flying at their words. Bear knew that what they were saying was important, but she was too caught up in the excitement of being able to see and talk to her family again. It would be awhile before any legal action came down on the people who had hurt her with their plotting, but they hadn’t won. She was sitting here, in front of her bosses, paying just enough attention to their words so she wouldn’t miss anything important, while her heart was doing backflips at the thought of just seeing her people.

“Congratulations Commander. You will be reinstated shortly.” The amused voice of Admiral Harris cut through her thoughts. “Go and rendezvous with your team, Bear. They have been clamoring at the gates trying to see you. I believe Petty Officer Hamilton sounded the alarm that you were back.”

Bear smiled. “That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest, Sir. He was all smiles when I arrived earlier.”

“He is the type to do so, Commander.” Cyclone was watching her carefully, amused by the humor in her voice. It was clear to him that Bear was ready to burst out of the room, so he dismissed her, nodding at her salute and watched Bear slip out the door. “Is she always like this, Harris?”

“Eager to get back to work? Yes. The type to tune us out? No, that’s likely from her not being able to help her team for the last five months.”

===

Bear raced out of the building, descending the stairs so fast she nearly fell down them. She closed the distance quickly, slowing to a walk as she quietly approached the empty training warehouse. Her heart was pounding, both from the exertion and because after five long months, she was oh so close to finally being near the people that had always had her back.

Her team was okay, definitely worried about her, but from the updates Fireball had been giving her over the last few weeks, Bear knew that they were alright. Bug was doing her best to keep their spirits up, and Bear couldn’t be more proud of Priya. She knew that her second would step up when needed and Priya did exactly that.

They had come together in her absence. Growing stronger as a team, they were all so excited that their boss, their friend, and to some, a maternal figure (not that they would ever say that to her face), was coming back to them.

And she was right outside the doors, listening intently to the cacophony of voices yelling over one another. Bear heard Bug shout over the noise, silencing most of the group, except for a few who kept chattering away excitedly. “Now! To the two newbies that joined us a few months ago, you only know me as your CO. You haven’t met Bear yet.” Bug stopped halfway through her sentence to swing her gaze over and stare down the new Seals. “And if you two would stop your yammering, maybe we can finish this up so you can meet her.”

“Sorry ma’am.”

“Yes ma’am.”

They both looked thoroughly chastised and Bug smiled. Her job had gotten a little easier as time had gone on. She still wished that Bear were here to help guide her, but Priya knew that this was the same way her commander had learned the job. Training wheels didn’t exist in the Navy and Bug was proud of just how much she had been able to do despite her hesitation.

“Good. Now,” she continued. Her smile had only grown wider as she felt the excitement of her colleagues grow with every passing moment. Everyone wanted to see Bear again, and thanks to Petty Officer Hamilton, the whole base knew that the Commander was back. “Bear is still in her meeting with the Air Boss and Admiral Harris, so did we have any questions about our training this week?”

A few hands were raised and Bug answered the questions as best she could. She was distracted and it had felt like time was crawling as she breezed through the last few questions, clarifying a few points and restating another four, much to her dismay. Bug had just asked if there were any remaining questions when a familiar voice echoed through the quiet room. “I have a question. What does a woman have to do to get a hug around here?”

“Bear!” The room erupted in chaos, Seals scrambling out of their seats to hug their Commander, pushing and shoving others out of the way to be the first to greet her. A cacophony of voices made Bug cringe at the volume and she caught the gazes of the other Lieutenants who had held back, letting their platoons hug their boss.

“Alright. Alright!” Bear yelled over the noise, her hands out in front of her. “I’m not running out on you guys. I will get to everyone, I promise.” The room immediately settled down, people shuffling out of Bear’s path as she walked up to the front of the room.

Bear had begun tearing up when the room exploded into shouts of joy. Her team was okay and the sheer weight of the emotions she had felt all week dissipated in a heartbeat. Each hug, handshake, and story shared seemed to lighten her heart in such a way that it felt like it was seconds from floating up, up, up into the sky to fly alongside the F-18s on base.

Each step towards Bug felt like miles. Bear had heard the endless praise of Priya since the moment she'd arrived back on base and it was comforting to know that she had chosen well. “Priya.”

“Bear.” And Bug was in her arms, holding her tight. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Bug.” She held the other woman for a moment longer, before letting go to wipe her tears. “You’ve done an incredible job with them. I couldn’t be more proud.”

A tearful thank you left Bug as she swiped at her tears, letting Bear turn to envelop F.A.K. into a tight squeeze. The medic mumbled something to their Commander, making her laugh despite her tears.

The rest of that morning and early afternoon was spent catching up, Bear found herself holding court as she answered question after question from her team, refusing to leave anything out. Her team weren’t children, they had all suffered from her disappearance and Bear felt that they deserved to know at least a fraction of what had plagued her over the long five months apart.

“… I did go home to Vermont,” Bear said, laughing when someone yelled out that a person couldn’t be from Vermont. “I’m serious. My moms live there, in a small town in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.”

A few more adamant shouts had the room dissolving into giggles and for what felt like the millionth time that day, Bear felt a lightness that she hadn’t felt in a while. Not since the early days in Riyadh with Jake.

Jake. Where was he? Come to think of it, where were the Daggers? Bear hadn’t heard a word from any of them except Rooster one time when he stopped by to lend her a book. She had yet to give it back to him, and she would be lying if she said that was the only reason she wanted to see the pilots who had become a third family to her.

Sensing Bear’s distraction, Bug jumped in to dissuade the next few questions, sending the Seals off to lunch, while keeping a close eye on the suddenly pensive Bear. “Are you okay?”

Bear nodded. “I’m fine. Honestly. Just missing people.” She was trying for nonchalance, but from the look Priya gave her, it was clear that she had failed miserably.

“The Daggers have been away since Monday for a four day intensive at Lemoore,” Bug began, a knowing smile growing wider as the seconds passed. “I hear that they should be back sometime today or tomorrow.”

Bear hummed her acknowledgment and continued staring out through the open doors at the planes taking off in the distance. “It’s strange being back,” she said after a while.

“Good strange or bad strange?”

“Is it bad if I don’t know yet?”

Bug shook her head. “I don’t think so. I would probably feel the same in your shoes.”

“And I hope that you never have to be.” Bear’s tone was dark. A firm edge that forbade Bug from ever following her path to the woman she had become. “As long as I am in charge, you will never have to make the same choices I did in that desert.”

“You can’t promise that.” Bug’s tone was soft, almost like she was trying to talk Bear down.

Bear turned, meeting Priya’s gaze. “What I had to do…” she trailed off, shaking her head at the thought. “I will do whatever I can to make sure that none of you ever face the demons I did. I can promise that much.”

“Bear, what happened wasn’t your fault. None of us have ever blamed you.” There was now urgency in Bug’s voice, pleading with Bear to believe her. “Not a single one.”

“I know you don’t. Only one person deserves the blame.” The words felt foreign in her mouth, like they didn’t belong to her. And for the longest time, they hadn’t. Dr. Carter had spent months ensuring that Bear knew that she had nothing to be blamed for. These words belonged to Dr. Carter, not Bear. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I knew I could survive what I was dealt. That I did what I did so that none of you endured what I did.”

Bug was silent. Bear wouldn’t be swayed from this belief that her sacrifice was a good thing. To Bug, however, it wasn’t. The choice had been made, but Bug was still worried that Bear would make the same decision if the opportunity presented itself. So she hummed, gathering her thoughts. “We did get new equipment earlier this week, wanna see?”

Bear seemed to snap out of her melancholy, standing up. “New equipment? Hell yeah.”

“Come on then. We get to test it out for the first time later today.”

===

Hours later, Bear arrived home. Her body hurt, unused to the rigors of training after being away for so long. It had been a sobering realization, but she had known that she wouldn’t be at 100% from the start. She had to take it slow. Well, slower than previously thought.

But holy shit had it felt good to line up her shots, to watch bullets punch through paper targets, to help T-Pot and Zero find the sweet spot to take their shots. She felt useful again.

So now, sitting on her couch in her pajamas with a bowl of mac and cheese on her lap as she scrolled mindlessly through her phone, Bear was content. Today had been good, save for her one moment with Bug. But when she wrote about her day in the journal she had been given, for once it didn’t feel like she was condemning her actions.

Today was progress.

She was startled from her couch potato state by a knock at the door. Glancing at the time in the corner of her phone, Bear frowned. Who the hell could that be? It was late and while she had the weekend off, it didn’t make sense to have visitors.

Groaning, Bear unwrapped herself from her blanket and stood, her knees and ankles popping as she moved. She made her way over, her socked feet sliding over the wooden floor of her home, and opened the door to see Jake standing on her porch.

It was like all of the air had been punched out of her body as she gazed upon him. Even in the darkness outside, his figure illuminated by the single porch light, setting fire to gold in his blonde hair, resembling a crown, he was beautiful. He always had been beautiful, but now, after five long months, here he was in front of her and Bear was left speechless.

Back where they had first begun. When her feelings had become feelings. Jake on her porch, and Bear standing before him, one hand on the open door. Only this time, there was no pizza.

They stared at one another for a moment, before Bear managed a strangled “Jake.”

“Teddy.”

===

A/N: This cut-off is only because this would have been longer than the last one if I had kept this and the next part together. I’m done hurting people. I promise. @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @dakotakazansky, you guys are incredible.

Taglist: @horseshoegirl @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @lavenderbradshaw @roosterforme @bobby-r2d2-floyd @bradleybeachbabe @footprintsinthesxnd @twsssmlmaa @fandomxpreferences @dempy @gizmodear @fighterpilothoe @chaoticassidy @eli2447 @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @djs8891 @rhirhikingston @sisterslytherinog @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak @sgt-barnesveins @taytaylala12 @urmom-999 @formulapierre @pinkpantheris @havlindzk @a-beaverhausen @killcomet @buxkybarnez @topgunruinedme @hangmanscoming @smoothdogsgirl @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby

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defectivevillain · 1 year

Text

this broken design

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader

summary:

“Dr. Lecter?” You blink a few times, convinced that you’re dreaming. The man’s gleaming eyes and concerned expression seem a bit too realistic to be conjured by your sleeping mind, though. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen him look worried. You quickly decide that you don’t like it.

“Hannibal, please,” the doctor responds nonchalantly. You stare at him in utter confusion. Just what is happening right now? You thought you were dreaming, but this feels a bit too vivid. “What are you doing out here?”

word count: 2.3k [ao3 version here]

Reader’s pronouns are unspecified but masc-intended. You take the place of Will Graham, essentially. [Will is the mf blueprint and I love him,, I just wasn’t creative enough to think of a way to fit the reader into the story without replacing him ;( ]

Since Hannibal is your therapist, the relationship [although ambiguous] is ethically questionable. That’s par for the course to many Fannibals, but I’ll put this here in case you’re new to the fandom.

warnings: canon-typical violence, dissociation, breach of doctor/patient boundaries, insomnia, sleepwalking, cannibalism, spoilers for episode 1.

Jack Crawford can’t take no for an answer. That’s nothing new, of course. However, it’s frustrating to constantly be on the receiving end of that disappointed glare of his. You can’t take it much longer. He seems to recognize that you’re beginning to break, because he calls in a doctor for your psychiatric evaluation: Doctor Hannibal Lecter. There’s one unspoken statement lingering in the air when you walk into the room: “You will pass this exam and return to the field.”

Against all odds, Dr. Lecter seems to be one of the more competent medical professionals you’ve worked with. He doesn’t poke or prod at things that make you uncomfortable, testing your limits to the maximum. He doesn’t look at you with the patronizing gaze you’re so used to receiving from your peers. Lecter looks at you and, sometimes, it feels as if he’s looking straight through you.

After passing the psychological evaluation—you have a strong suspicion that Dr. Lecter lied on those forms—you’re back on the field. Before long, Jack Crawford is ordering you to look at mangled bodies once more. You notice that it takes more out of you each time you look. Looking is exhausting and the longer you look, the more time it takes to return to your own body.

You’re able to cope until your encounter with the Minnesota Shrike. You feel your composure beginning to slip as you frantically look through files in the office of his construction site. Thankfully, you can finally put a name to the killer: Garret Jacob Hobbs. He’s a construction worker, a husband, and a father. The guy is entirely ordinary, almost scarily so.

When you arrive at the Hobbs’ residence minutes later, you can’t shake the feeling that he’s expecting you. The house is eerily silent and when you walk in, his wife is already dead. Dread churning in your stomach, you turn the corner, only to find Hobbs holding his daughter Abigail captive. There’s a knife pressed to her neck. The betrayed yet horrified expression on her face cements itself in your mind. You point your gun at him, but he slices her neck before you can shoot him. After firing one, two, three, nine shots, you kneel down and try to stifle Abigail’s bleeding. Your heart races in your chest and there’s a roaring noise in your ears. Amidst all the chaos, however, you can still sense Garret Jacob Hobbs staring at you with a sickening smirk on his face.

“See?” The man had asked, as the light faded from his eyes and his body slumped against the cabinets. You turn your attention back to Abigail, who is now gasping and panting heavily. Your hands shake as you desperately try to stop the bleeding. You’re too rattled to notice the sound of footsteps getting closer until there’s a hand on your shoulder. Dr. Lecter and you lock eyes and, even in the swirling mess of emotions running through your mind, there is overwhelming clarity. Dr. Lecter’s expression is far too calm. Just before you can contemplate that further, he’s gently pushing you to the side and tending to Abigail.

Everything after that passes in a blur. Abigail is taken to the hospital and Dr. Lecter accompanies her in the ambulance. Jack seems satisfied and disconcerted all at once. He pulls you aside and starts talking your ear off, but you admittedly can’t process anything of what he’s saying. Eventually, the agent gives up and leaves you to drive home. Even when you go to work the next morning, you can’t shake the grey haze that clings to your very being. “See?” Garret Jacob Hobbs’ voice rings in your ears. You did see; you only wish you hadn’t.

You begin to have weekly sessions with Dr. Lecter. Jack all but forces you to attend, but the sessions actually prove to be helpful. Dr. Lecter is certainly an eccentric character, that’s for sure. You’ve never quite met someone like him before, and you can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not. The therapist is certainly mysterious. You want to figure him out, but, at the same time, there’s a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that is still wary around him. You haven’t necessarily forgotten the strangely calm look on his face in the Hobbs house, the mechanical way with which he accepted the pervasive aura of death all around him.

As great as Dr. Lecter is, he can’t fix everything. Your sleep, for example, is continuing to tank by the day. Since your return to the field, it’s difficult to fall asleep and even more difficult to stay asleep. After the Hobbs incident, you’re plagued with nightmares of dark crimson rivers. A few times, you’re even forced to relive the encounter: the moment Abigail slumps to the ground, the moment you shoot Hobbs again and again and again-

The moral of the story is that you’re not sleeping well. Your sleep has never been great, but it’s also never been this bad. You muse on that thought as you lie reclined on your mattress, staring up at the ceiling. Exhaustion tugs at your very core, but your mind refuses to slow down for even a moment. A voice in the back of your mind tells you that you shouldn’t even try to go to sleep, unless you want to slip into a killer’s skin once more. After staring up at the ceiling for an immeasurable amount of time, your eyes finally begin to fall shut.

Shadows seep into your eyes, coloring your vision dark. For a moment, there’s nothing but darkness. Garret Jacob Hobbs greets you like an old friend, his whispers ripping through your skin and into your very core. You claw at your head and close your eyes, desperate to rid yourself of his haunting voice. Somehow, your effort seems to work and you can’t hear his murmurs anymore. You want to drown in the shadowed void that stretches around you but, suddenly, there are two lights ripping through the blackness. You put a hand over your eyes as the brightness burns holes in your vision. Your eyes water and it takes several seconds for the graininess around you to disappear. To your surprise, there’s a car parked just to your left. You take a step forward and squint at the driver. The window rolls down slowly and your breath catches. A shiver rolls down your spine, and it’s not just the cold air that causes it.

“I-” You try to say, but the words are stuck in your throat. His statement prompts you to look around and find out where exactly here is. Ultimately, you realize that you’re standing in the center of a road. It’s pretty dark outside. You look down and find that you’re still wearing your pajamas—a ragged shirt and sweatpants. Furthermore, there are scrapes lining your arms. You inhale sharply, beginning to feel panic seep into your bones.

Hannibal’s car door swings open and he moves to stand next to you. The therapist is dressed nicely, as always. You’d be more self conscious about your own attire if you didn’t feel so discombobulated. “What is the last thing you remember?” The man asks. You pause to ponder the question.

“Falling asleep,” you answer, after thinking about the past few hours. You were staring up at your bedroom ceiling. You must’ve fallen asleep at some point. There’s an infuriating lack of information- a gap from when you fell asleep to when you found yourself staring at the headlights of Hannibal’s car.

Silence settles in the air, thick and uncomfortable. You don’t know what to do or say, that could possibly justify this. Truly, one moment you were in bed and the next, you were standing in the middle of the road. You don’t exactly want to tell Hannibal that, but he seems to recognize the sentiment anyway. His brows are furrowed and his lips are pursed as he stares at you. His gaze is insistent and heated, so much so that you have to look away—lest you get burned.

“Come on,” Hannibal says. There’s an authoritative tone to his voice and you follow along instinctually. He helps you to his car with a hand on your shoulder. For a moment, you shiver in the passenger seat as he stares at you. Hannibal then shakes his head and takes off his jacket, putting it around your shoulders. You vaguely recognize that you must look truly pathetic, but you’re too cold not to burrow into the smooth fabric.

The moment he starts driving, you begin to remember your exhaustion. In actuality, you never got that much sleep. Judging from the radio in Hannibal’s car, it’s only two in the morning. You were only asleep for two hours and, yet, you walked all the way outside to the road. Gritting your teeth, you decide to look out the window. Despite your fatigue, your body doesn’t want to succumb to slumber. You have to settle for staring bleakly out the window.

“We’ve arrived,” Hannibal later announces. You blink dazedly, looking out the window to find a beautiful gothic home looming over you. Just before you can grab the door and get out, Hannibal is on the other side opening it for you. You fall in step beside him and allow him to lead you down the walk towards his home. He opens the door and allows you to enter first.

You feel extraordinary out of place here, as you usually do in Hannibal’s presence. The foyer has an elegant fireplace and deep blue accents. Paintings decorate the walls and there’s a vase of freshly trimmed flowers on one of the tables. You can see Hannibal having an internal debate with himself about giving you a formal tour or telling you about the pieces. He turns back to you expectantly and you follow him into the living room. You freeze in the doorway, upon realizing that you’re still wearing your shoes (which you don’t remember putting on in the first place). You quickly bend down and try to untie them, but your hands are trembling too much to do it.

“Allow me,” Hannibal says, getting down on one knee. To your horror and humiliation, he proceeds to help you untie your shoes. You avert your eyes, feeling as if your skin is on fire. He must sense your discomfort, because he arches an eyebrow at you before untying them a little faster. Thankfully, Hannibal doesn’t offer to fetch you clean socks- you’re certain you’d die of embarrassment. Instead, the moment your shoes are off, he guides you to sit on the finely trimmed settee.

For a fraction of a second, when you look up at Hannibal, you see the cold, calculated gaze of a practiced killer. “You’re freezing,” Hannibal remarks. You swallow hard and watch with bated breath as he leaves the room. Perhaps you just imagined that. You look around the room, unsurprised to see hints of animals everywhere—what with the mounted antelope head and various skulls resting on the table behind you.

The Chesapeake Ripper sees his victims as animals, as pigs. You’re not quite sure why the killer comes to mind now of all times. Even so, you try to think about what you’ve gathered about him so far. He’s a middle-aged man with no current family. His tastes are eccentric and his murders are artistic performances. Furthermore, the killer is slippery. You’ve only found clues because, you suspect, he wanted you to find them. The killer is narcissistic; he knows he won’t be caught and prides himself on that fact.

Your head aches with the sleep you haven’t gotten. You rub at your eyes roughly, unable to shake the feeling that you’re on the crux of a realization. The Chesapeake Ripper… The killer refuses to leave your mind. Why is that thought plaguing you here, of all places? You’re in Hannibal’s residence, staring at the rather macabre animal imagery around the space, when it hits you. Everything clicks into place: the conveniently timed dinner parties, the luxurious lifestyle, the entire lack of shock on his face at the Hobbs’ house.

It appears you’ve found the Chesapeake Ripper.

Hannibal chooses that exact moment to reappear. There’s a blanket folded over his arm and a mug in his hands. He seamlessly weaves through the room, coming to a stop over you. You look up at him from your position on the couch. “Are you alright?” You nod mutely, not trusting yourself to speak. The clock on the wall ticks ominously. Your hands are still trembling at your sides, so badly that Hannibal reaches out and cups them in his with a worried expression. You’re certain your teeth are chattering in your mouth. You’re going to die. You’ll be the next Chesapeake Ripper victim. When you close your eyes, you see your colleagues from the Behavioral Analysis Unit staring down at your corpse on the investigation table. You take a deep breath and try to remain calm. Your heart is thundering away in your chest and you know you must look suitably harrowed.

Hannibal extends a hand and you realize that the Chesapeake Ripper is giving you a cup of tea. You watch mutedly as an organ harvester gently cleans the scrapes on your skin. A coldhearted cannibal is placing a hand on your cheek and looking into your eyes, searching for something. A murderer is placing a blanket over your shoulders.

Hannibal sits down after his thorough investigation. Meanwhile, there’s one thought running through your mind: You can’t fall asleep here. You absolutely can’t let your guard down in front of the Chesapeake Ripper, the very cannibal you’ve been chasing for years. You sip the proffered tea and pretend that everything is alright. Hannibal seems content to sit with you in silence, although you can sense his gaze burning into the side of your face. Stay awake, you tell yourself. Stay alive.

Your eyes slip shut of their own accord

chapter two

Mwahahahah. AHAHHAHAHH…. Yes. I had to get that out, lol.

The untying of the shoes scene is a slight allusion to the Death Note scene in which L washes Light's feet. That's one of my favorite scenes in the series, as it hints at the parallels between L/Light and Jesus/Judas and the idea of recognizing betrayal before it comes. [Unfortunately, feet also gross me the hell out, so I settled for the untying of the shoes. Haha.]

This is entirely unrelated, but i got my dna results back and apparently i’m lithuanian 😏 [it’s not that significant or specific of a percentage, but just lemme have this 🙏]. hannibal, if ur reading this, i’m just like you frrrr 😮‍💨 except minus, yk, the cannibalism.

anyway, thanks for reading <3

#hannibal #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal x male reader #hannibal x masc reader #male reader #masc reader

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kiara66 · 1 year

Text

Small batch of gifs from episode 2 of Monkey Wrench

I thought I had more tbh ANYWAY watch Monkey Wrench!

#monkey wrench #ok going forever now byyeeeeee bitchessss #shrike sanchez #beebs #bulldog browns #dr agness #monkey wrench spoilers #my post #punti

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jaynadirart · 1 year

Text

i did it, i drew the meme

(shrike's first time getting arrested) (meanwhile dr. hecate lost count a long time ago)

#barbie and ken mugshot #barbie and ken meme #unmasked film #art #my art #animated film #student film #artists on tumblr #digital art #art meme #OCs #original character #OC art #Shrike #Dr. Hecate

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hayleythecannibal · 3 months

Text

Twisted Minds: Act II- Chapter Sixteen Hassun

TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Crying, Implied Death, Court Scenes, Lying, a smidge of Jealousy, Desperation, Slight Possessiveness

Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

Taglist: @punkin-time @miaowkitty @gabriella-aesthetic @urlocalfanficwriter @dilfdemolisher

Twisted Minds Masterlist

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY -

the speaker as MARION VEGA, prosecutor. She has the floor. A smiling assassin.

“Garret Jacob Hobbs, the Minnesota Shrike, killed young women who looked just like his daughter. He killed them and he ate them.” Vega pauses and looks at Will. He sits, shackled, with his attorney LEONARD BRAUER. JUDGE BERTRAND DAVIES straight ahead. An audience in the gallery. No jury. A bailiff stands guard.

“Will Graham understood how Garret Jacob Hobbs thought, which is how he caught him. Shot Hobbs dead as he cut his daughter's throat. Will Graham and his partner Dr. Y/N L/N saved Abigail Hobbs's life. But this profile he created of her father was so vivid, he couldn't escape it. In an unconscious state, he killed three more young women.” She has a remote for a projector in her hand and she CLICKS it. The LIGHTS DIM. KER-CHUNK -- the lights flicker across Will's face as a slide changes on a screen. SLIDE: CASSIE BOYLE MOUNTED ON ANTLERS.

“Cassie Boyle.” KER-CHUNK -- MARISSA SCHUUR IMPALED ON ANTLERS.

“Marissa Schuur.” KER-CHUNK -- ABIGAIL HOBBS. Will looks down.

“And Abigail Hobbs. Mr. Graham saved her from her father, but couldn't save her from himself. He killed her and ate her. At the very least, we know he ate her ear.” KER-CHUNK -- a ghastly image of the ear Will threw up.

“What he did with the rest of her is locked away in the recesses of Will Graham's traumatized mind, or so he would have you believe. Something else you should know about Will Graham. He's an eideteker. He has a remarkable visual memory. He is keenly insightful to the human condition and I would argue, the smartest person in this room. Capable of creating a psychological profile of a different kind of killer, one that would become his alibi.”

COURTHOUSE - HALLWAY OUTSIDE THE COURTROOM - DAY-

JACK CRAWFORD paces, waiting. KADE PRURNELL approaches. “Moment of truth.”

“If I knew what the truth was.” Jack says as he prepares himself to take the stand. “There’s nothing wrong with your instincts.” Prurnell says as she looks him dead in the eyes. “My instincts have not yet arrived at conviction.” Jack says as his head bows towards the sky. “Mine have. With the benefit of no prior involvement and no personal connections to the accused.”

“Meaning, I can't be impartial.” Jack says softly and with slight understanding.

“Of course you can be impartial. But right now, you're not. You have to believe something. As long as there is reason and evidence to believe. You have reason. You have evidence. Will Graham is playing a game.” Kade Prurnell is certain in her beliefs. The courtroom door opens and Jack turns, expecting to be called. His nerves evident. But it is just a bailiff exiting. Kade softens. “I understand why that would be hard for you to accept.”

“Let’s hear that theory.” Jack says with slight defiance and an unreadable expression, “It is easier to be a man who missed a friend's suffering than it is to be the head of Behavioral Sciences at the FBI who missed a killer standing right in front of him. There's a reason you're a witness for the prosecution, Agent Crawford.” Prurnell says with a cold gaze. “What reason would that be?” Jack says as he meets her eyes with a cold gaze of his own.

“If you can't represent your own beliefs, represent the Bureau's. Will Graham lied to the FBI. He lied to you. And you know it.” She holds his arm, reassuring, cheerleading. “Let yourself off the hook, Jack.”

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY-

Jack is on the stand. Mid-testimony. Vega in front of him, but Jack's eyes are on Will Graham. Will does not look away. There is a female bailiff on duty. I’m directly behind Will, I keep my eyes on Jack. “How did you meet Will Graham?” asks Ms. Vega

“I met him at the opening of the Evil Minds Research Museum. He disagreed with what we called it. He told me the title mythologized banal, cruel men who don't deserve to sound like supervillains.”

“What was your first impression?”

“He was intelligent. And arrogant. And very likely on the spectrum.”

“Which is why he was never real FBI. He failed the screening procedures.”

“Yes.”

“But you felt he was qualified to work in the field.”

“Under my supervision. And with a Partner.” I look down at my lap with a clenched jaw.

“You believed he was valuable because he can think like a killer?”

“He can think like anybody. He has pure empathy and projection. He can imprint profiles on the blank slate of his mind for us to read. Its one of the reasons I though Dr. L/N and him would work well together” I smile softly at the thought.

“Sounds like a supervillain. She points to a table in front of the bench. It is laden with marked evidence bags, dozens of them, including five fishhooks, for each of the victims.”

“Five horrendous murders. Over forty different pieces of forensic and physical evidence. That tell us Will Graham knows how to think like a killer because he is one.” Jack looks up at Prurnell and then at Will. Vega presses.

“Rather than being tormented by the work he did, Will Graham enjoyed the cover his role at the FBI gave him to commit his terrible crimes.” Jack looks at Kade Prurnell. Then Jack looks at Will. “I don't believe that to be true.” Marion Vega is thrown off guard by that.

“Agent Crawford?” For Jack, this is a moment of clarity; he looks at Will, talking to him; committing to what he feels to be true. “Will hated every second of the work. Didn't fake that. He hated it and I kept making him do it.”

“Why then, when you gave him the opportunity to quit, did he refuse?”

“Because he was saving lives. I was warned by more than one person, including his partner Dr. L/N, if I pushed Will, I would break him. I put checks and balances in place, then ignored them. And here we are.” In the gallery, Prurnell looks saddened. She exits. Will stares at Jack on the witness stand, and Leonard Brauer can't hide a smile as he makes a note.

A PADDED ENVELOPE -- MARKED URGENT -- CARRIED BY A PARALEGAL - COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY

Where Will Graham is at the defense table with Brauer. Brauer is late 40s, cocksure and aware of his own abilities. “What does Jack Crawford drink? Because whatever it is, I need to send him a very expensive bottle.” Brauer says with a shiteating grin on his face. “He said I'm a killer because he drove me insane.”

“He paved the road for your defense.”

“He didn't say Will was innocent.” I say as I approach Will and His Lawyer. Brauer shakes his head. A pragmatist. “Innocence isn't a verdict, Dr. L/N. "Not guilty" is. This isn't law, it's advertising.” Brauer says as he looks to me.

“Advertising trivializes, it manipulates, it's vulgar.” I say for Will. “Boo-hoo. So's the law. We have to create the desire to find you "not guilty," which does not exist in this courtroom. We're manipulating the consumer into buying something they don't need. They don't want your innocence. Unconsciousness in a pretty package, that I can sell.” The paralegal brings the envelope down to Brauer.

“Thank you.” The paralegal turns to leave and Brauer opens the envelope and takes out another envelope. He pulls open the second envelope. Shakes it over his legal pad.

“If I take the moral high ground with you, I'll get you killed.” SLO-MO as flakes of DRIED BLOOD drop like snow onto the pad – WILL GRAHAM -- his face falls -- BACK TO REAL TIME -- a HUMAN EAR drops onto the pad. Gray, spotted with DARK BLOOD around the rough edges of the incision. I gasp loudly and cover my mouth.

“I think I opened your mail.”

BAU - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - NIGHT-

Hannibal and Y/N stand beside Jack, watching him thoughtfully. Jack absently listens as BEVERLY KATZ, BRIAN ZELLER, JIMMY PRICE work on the ear and the envelopes, reporting their findings. Lips move WITHOUT SOUND until their VOICES SLOWLY FADE IN. “Shrunken capillaries. The ear was cut from a corpse no more than forty-eight hours ago.” Zeller says as he gestures towards the ear.

“Before the trial started.” Bev says. “We fumed it all -- ear's clean, no prints on the envelopes besides the courier, paralegal and the lawyer.” Jimmy says as Hannibal leans over the ear in fascination. “One thing's for sure. Will Graham didn't do it.” I say from next to Hannibal.

“Although, I wouldn't be surprised.” Zeller says with a distaste for My recently incarcerated Partner. “The timing is deliberate, choreographed to drop the ear at the start of Will's trial.” Jack points out as he ignores the distastful Zeller. “Such a gift has great significance.” Hannibal says as he place a hand on my Lower back, causing my breathing to hitch.

“A "gift." From who?” Jack asks with a furrow of his brow. “Will claimed someone else committed the crimes he's accused of.” I say, “He said that someone was Hannibal.” Jack says with a raised brow. “Perhaps he was half right.” Hannibal says as Jack looks at Him, considers what he is saying. “You gotta be kidding me.” the angry, impassioned Zeller --

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY-

...the DOORS OPEN and FREDDIE LOUNDS ENTER. Without ever fully revealing her face, leads her to the witness stand, favoring Will as she makes her way down the aisle. “I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth.” Marion Vega questions Freddie Lounds, mid-testimony.

“Would you please describe your relationship with Abigail Hobbs?”

“It was sisterly. We were very close. I was helping her write a book about surviving her father.”

“Did you ever discuss Will Graham with Abigail?” Did they ever when i spent time with Abigail she’d tell me about her interactions with Freddie Lounds.

“Yes. She bonded with him after her father's death, even saw him as a father figure. Which he took advantage of until Abigail began to feel threatened by him.”

“Did Will Graham ever threaten you?”

“He told me it wasn't very smart to piss off a man who thought about killing people for a living. I believed him. I was terrified.” Bitch please. I was there, i could feel the cockiness and Arogance, but never fear nor terror. “You spend a lot of time with murderers and their victims. Why were you terrified?”

“Will Graham never struck me as a victim. He was something else.”

“Why was Abigail so afraid of him?”

“Her father killed young women as substitutes for her. She told me she was worried Will Graham wasn't interested in substitutes.” A catch of breath as Freddie's emotions suddenly catch her. What a wonderful Actress she is, able to get even the jury to choke up. I roll my eyes and Will turns around and looks at me then back at the stand.

“This is all hearsay, your honor.”

“We'd argue excited utterance–”

“I'll allow it.” The judge remarks

“Abigail told me she believed Will Graham was going to kill her and cannibalize her like her father wanted to do. She was right. I should have listened to her.”

“You blame yourself for her death?”

“I blame Will Graham.” Freddie wipes her eyes. STARES Will down. And I almost walk up there and Knock her the fuck out.

“Your witness.” Brauer stands. “Miss Lounds, I've only been recently retained on this case, so forgive me for not having all the details. Can you remind me how many times you've been sued for libel?”

She Hesitates “Six.”

“Six. How many times did you settle?”

“Six.” She sighs her farce fading. “Six. Thank you. Nothing further.”

COURTHOUSE - CORRIDOR - DAY-

Jack Crawford standing in the center l he is blocking Freddie Lounds's path. “You and I spoke at length about Abigail Hobbs. You suspected her of complicity in her father's crimes.” Jack says with anger and suspicion. “I remember our discussion.” she says as she crosses her arms

“Just chose not to mention it.” Jack says with annoyance for the red head. “No one asked.” Freddie looks at Jack, deadly serious now. Real emotion. “Abigail was a frightened girl, who put her trust in Will Graham. And he killed her.”

“Your testimony made her death sound like it was premeditated.”

“Murder, Jack. Her murder.”

“Did that conversation with Abigail Hobbs ever happen?” Freddie stares, then: “You're looking after your friend. I'm looking after mine.”

BSHCI - WILL GRAHAM'S CELL - DAY-

Hannibal and Y/N face Will standing on his side of the bars. “It seems you have an admirer.” Hannibal says with a amused smile.

“You think someone sent me an ear because they admire me?” Will asks confused, I look at him with soft eyes. “The boundaries of what's considered normal are getting narrower. Outside those boundaries, this may be intended as a helpful gesture.” I say to him. I want to reach out a hand but i know the guards would most likely stop me. And Hannibal keeps gracing his hand on my back.

“How far would you go to help me?” Will asks as he turns his head towards Hannibal. “It hadn't occurred to me to send you an ear. But I'm grateful and intrigued that someone has.” Hannibal says and he inconspiculously runs his fingers up and down my spine.

“Gratitude has a short half-life.”

“So can doubt. Our ideas are not set in stone. When exposed to new thoughts, they adapt into their most potent form. I have new thoughts about who you are. There may very well be another killer.” Hannibal says as him and Will lock eyes.

“I want there to be.” Will says as he looks at me. “Some part of you still suspects me.” Hannibal says as he looks down at me then to Will. “I don't know what anyone is capable of anymore. Even myself. I know there's no evidence against you.” Will says, i close my eyes and sigh.

“There never was.”

“Accusing you makes me look insane. I'm not insane. Not anymore.”

“You may not be guilty. Tell Us about your admirer, Will.” I ask as i step forward slightly. “He's experienced. A sophisticated killer. He has a wit and a whimsy. Parodied the crimes We investigated so well We didn't know he was there. He's connected to me somehow. He knows me. Or thinks he does. He certainly knew about the cases.” Will says, i nod in agreement.

“You could be describing me.” Hannibal says as he steps behind me. “I once thought I was.” Will says as he watches as Hannibals hands grace my shoulders. “This ear you were sent presents an opportunity, Will. If someone else is responsible for your crimes, perhaps he now wants to be seen.” I say, i know the killer is close. You could say they’re right behind me.

“Why would he want to be seen now?” Will asks confused on this situation put at hand. “He cares what happens to you.” Will Graham holds Hannibal's gaze.

BSHCI - THERAPY HALL - DAY-

Y/N sits in a solitary chair opposite Will Graham locked into his therapy cage. Shafts of sunlight giving the space a cathedral feel. Leonard Brauer paces to one side. “I don't want the first time you do this to be in court. Dr. L/N, weren't you and the accused romantically involved?” I dont blink.

“How is that relevant to the case?” I ask, i really dont want my love life out into the court. “It's relevant to your testimony. In that court, your affections, your pro-anything Will Graham will be on trial. Get all starey and non-blinky like you did and it'll undermine you and me, but mainly him.” Brauer says as he looks at me.

“My testimony is based on my professional–” I say but am cut off “You're smitten with the accused, Dr. L/N. It's adorable. But not our brand of defense.” Y/N looks caught.

“Marion Vega will smell it on you like you stepped in Young Adult and tracked it into the courtroom. Were you and Will Graham romantically involved?” I look at Will, then at Brauer; this is all so painful. “There was a Blooming relationship between me and Mr. Graham, yes.”

“How was it?” I again can't avoid looking at Will. Then at Brauer. “The advance came from Will. And i initially rejected it.”

“Because he was dangerous?”

“Because he was unstable.”

“What made you change your mind” I look at Will. My eyes say one thing, My words another. I looks at Brauer -- definite. “I don't have romantic feelings for Will Graham Anymore. I have a professional relationship.” That sits in the air. Brauer breaks it. Pleased. “I like "professional Relationship." It's so... indifferent. Unless you look like you're lying when you say it. And you didnt, which will fool the jury. But we all know…”

“She was lying.” I am looking at Will, the painful truth of this hurts. The fact i have to lie or pretend that i dont Lov- is this what love is? Protecting with no remorse of the others that are affected. All i want is for Will to be Free. so that we can try to move on from this. We save lives together. But there's gonna be a day and age where we wont be the most innocent when it comes to blood shed. Like I even am at all.

BAU - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - NIGHT-

Jack Crawford, Zeller, Price and Katz are gathered around the ear. Looking seriously concerned and energized. “You've identified the ear?” Jack asks who is actively wondering where Y/N is. “We ID'd the knife that cut it off.” Zeller says with a shrug of the shoulders.

“It's Will Graham's. The blade matches the cuts on Abigail Hobbs's ear and on this one.” Beverly says as Jimmy Price zooms images of the two ears on a SCREEN.

“It was presenting in court as evidence. And then it went to the courthouse evidence room.” Beverly says. “It was checked out by a bailiff at the courthouse. Andrew Sykes. And it never went back.” Price says as JACK as certainty grows in him. Energized.

FBI SUV - NIGHT-

Jack sits in the passenger seat of an FBI SUV, looking at a neat tract home, all lights dark. He raises a HANDSET.

“Go.”

BAILIFF'S HOUSE - NIGHT-

Shadows move out of shadows as two FBI AGENTS pause on either side of the front door. One nods at the other and he crowbars the lock – As the door FLIES OPEN – A BLUE SPARK A small electrical relay taped to the doorjamb is thrown and we follow the WIRE, taped down the floor and through the hall, into the next room.

The wire reaches a black shape in the room and FLAME BLOOMS, blue and yellow, beautiful as it quickly spreads. A ROAR and a BURST OF ORANGE LIGHT as flames suddenly surge --

CLOSE -- the blossoming fire as it spreads, reflected up close in a staring EYE...

FBI SUV - BAILIFF'S HOUSE - NIGHT -

Sudden glow of fire fills the car window next to Jack's face, reflected, bathing Jack's face in HEAT and LIGHT as the darkness is chased from the windows of the house and FLAMES

can be seen -- Jack bursts from the SUV and the reflection disappears.

CRASH! The house windows shatter outward as the heat and flame inside builds. Jack shields his face as we hear the ROAR and RUSH of the fire --

BAILIFF'S HOUSE - NIGHT -

QUIET and a muted stillness -- the calm after the storm. A FIRE CREW is leaving, their job done. The house is still intact, but the windows are gone and the place is smoke-damaged. LOCAL COPS are putting up incident tape and turning it into a crime scene.

The house still SIGHS and GROANS from heat contraction. The interior is dark, eerie shadows thrown by work lanterns. Smoke hangs in the air and water drips. Jack navigates the burned home with a flashlight. His feet splash through gray puddles. Jack turns his flashlight into the lounge and his face tightens in grim horror. In his FLASHLIGHT BEAM we see a horrific tableau -- the CAUTERIZED BODY of the DEAD BAILIFFhas been IMPALED on the rack of a huge STAG'S HEAD.

JACK CRAWFORD -- he stares at the body like it is a personal insult. SMOKE-BLACKENED FACE Torn into a permanent clown's mask. Burns can't hide what was done to the dead bailiff's face. Right ear missing, Glasgow smile cut into his cheeks. BEVERLY KATZ, up close

to the body --- as she tweezes trace evidence into a bag.

WORK LIGHTS now illuminate the mutilated corpse. His uniform is fused to his charred body. A badge and name tag, "Andrew Sykes," melted into his chest. Brian Zeller taps it with his tweezers. Jimmy Price comes from the front door, walking Jack, Y/N, and Hannibal through.

“Wanted to give us a warm welcome and still leave something to find.”

“An arresting piece of theater.” Hannibal says as he runs a gloved hand against the SOOT on the wall. Rubs it in his fingers and smells it. Hannibal approaches the body closely. Jimmy Price steps back to let him take it in. Hannibal slowly walks around the corpse on the stag's head.

“It's Will Graham's greatest hits.” Zeller says and i Glare harshly at him. “Are we addressing the elephant in the room? The charred, mutilated elephant right over there.” Jimmy says as he gestures towards the corpse. “Could we have been that wrong?” Jack asks us. I look at him with empathetic eyes.

“About Will Graham? No. We couldn't. He practically took a selfie with each of his victims.” Zeller says and quite frankly im ready to knock him out…….or shoot him in the foot at the very least. Because his very biased opinion on Will Graham is gonna interfere with this investigation.

Hannibal watches the proceedings like a polite dinner guest watching a family argument, but not engaging in it. “The evidence we found was immediate and almost presentational. May as well have been gift-wrapped.” Bev says, she’s uttering the words of me and Will.

“That's what You and Will said about Cassie Boyle when she was found in that field. "Field kabuki."” Jack says as he faces me. I nod as I try to keep cool. The utter amount of fear, Betrayal and grasping to life the victim had in his last moments was extremely hard to ignore. And Zeller pissing me off does not help in the slightest.

“There wasn't any evidence before Will was apprehended and there hasn't been any since.” I say with narrow eyes towards Zeller. “He ate a girl's ear. It was inside his stomach. God knows how much else of her was in there.” Zeller says as he stands up and leans towards me trying to act all menacing. But all it makes me feel is like he needs a good ass kicking.

“Should've taken a stool sample.” Jimmy says softly. “Knock it off.” Jack says to me and Zeller.

“Tell me, Jack. What impact could this have on Will's trial?” Hannibal says as Jack considers the implications...

COURTHOUSE - DAY-

Jack Crawford and Kade Prurnell stand before the large, ornate desk of Judge Davies as he gets into his robes. “This murder raises serious doubts about the case against Will Graham.”

“Your team provided the evidence.” Judge Davies says with furrowed brows. “The overwhelming evidence.” Prurnell says with narrowed eyes. “Then you understand how significant it is for me to question it.” Jack says with gusto. “We heard your testimony, Agent Crawford. Are you sure you're not trying to assuage your own guilt.” Prurnell asks sarcastically and rudely. “Yes. I'm sure.”

“I'm not.”

“Why is it so important to you that Will Graham be found guilty?”

“I have no agenda here. What is important to me is the truth.”

“Andrew Sykes was mutilated in the exact manner Will Graham allegedly mutilated his victims. In ways that have not been made public.” Jack says as he is looking positive about his findings. “Will Graham isn't saying he didn't kill those people. His lawyer's running an unconsciousness defense. In effect, he's admitting the acts, just not the responsibility.” Prurnell says with large arm gestures

“Will has always maintained his innocence, despite gaps in memory. Whatever Brauer's strategy, this would offer a new line of defense.” Jack says almost Happily. “That's for Mr. Brauer to tell me, Agent Crawford, not you.” Judge Davies says, “Yes, your honor.”

“If Mr. Brauer does bring up this murder, I will give him leeway to present it in evidence.”

“Thank you, your honor.” Jack risks a glance at Kade Prurnell, who meets his gaze.

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY-

“...Will Graham manifests publicly as an introverted personality. He would have us believe he places on the spectrum somewhere near Asperger's and autism. Yet, he also claims to have an empathy disorder.” Dr. Chilton is on the stand.

“You choose your words very carefully, Dr. Chilton. You chose the word "claims."”

“Will Graham has never been diagnosed. He won't allow anyone to test him. He has carefully

constructed a persona to hide his real nature from the world. He wears it so well, even Jack

Crawford couldn't see past it.”

“But you did?”

“Mr. Graham and I had no personal relationship for him to manipulate. I have objectively studied him and the crimes of which he is accused. These murders were measured and controlled. The confused man Will Graham presents to the world could not commit those crimes. Because that man is a fiction.”

“You discount the encephalitis he was suffering as a cause?”

“He managed his illness with the help of his neurologist, whom he murdered for his trouble.”

“Is Will Graham an intelligent psychopath?”

“There is not yet a name for whatever Will Graham is. He kills methodically and I believe he would kill again, given the opportunity.”

“Thank you, doctor. Your witness.” Brauer stands up.

“Dr. Chilton, Will Graham spent his time catching murderers for the FBI. You don't see a contradiction between that and the cold-blooded killer you describe?”

“No, I don't. Will Graham is driven by vanity and his own whims. He has a very high opinion of his intelligence. Ergo, he caught the other killers simply to prove he is smarter than all of them, too. Saving lives is just as arousing as ending them. He likes to play God.” Chilton smiles. Certain in his damning testimony.

BSHCI - WILL GRAHAM'S CELL - DAY-

Will Graham lies on his bunk. Somewhere off, a demented soul begins screaming in a repetitive wail. A mind in torment. Will stares into the ceiling as the wailing continues, unabated... Will closes his eyes. The cell block lies in darkness. Silence. A SUDDEN hollow CLANG as the bolt slides back in the CELL DOOR. Will Graham's EYES OPEN. Instantly awake. He looks to the cell door, which slowly opens. An invitation.

BSHCI - CELL BLOCK - NIGHT-

A sound rises -- the hollow CLOP of hooves. Will peers and sees the BLACK STAG, night on night, as it slowly fades into the shadows at the end of the hall. Will follows it into the darkness, past empty cells, toward the end of the cell block where he can now see the GATE stands open. Will peers into the NURSES' STATION. Empty. Will walks toward the open GATE and up the stairs beyond.

“Will?” Will turns to see Hannibal, amidst the shadows, standing at the door of his cell, pointing him back inside. A KLAXON SOUNDS, harsh in the silent dark. now behind Perspex. He is --

BSHCI - PRIVACY ROOM - DAY-

Hannibal and Y/N stand outside the doors. Will shackled to the table within. The doors open and Y/N and Hannibal both ENTER. He pulls Y/N a seat then sits and pushes a file across the table to Will.

It slides across the table until it COMES INTO FOCUS. It's a wide shot of the BURNED HOME of Andrew Sykes -- his body on the stag's head in all its glory. Will looks at Hannibal, long and slow. Then he pulls the photo toward him, shackle chains rattling on the table. “My admirer?”

“What do you see?” He begins reading a forensic report and then turns back to the image of the crime scene: A WIDE SHOT of the burned room. Will grabs my Hand and closes his eyes. I've realized we ground each other in our moments like these. Not just physically but mentally and emotionally as well. I close my eyes as I feel his thumb stroking my hand.

IN THE DARKNESS OF HIS MIND, A PENDULUM SWINGS. FWUM. The PENDULUM is now outside his head. It swings, wiping away Hannibal. FWUM. And the privacy room PLUNGES INTO DARKNESS. The CRIME SCENE PHOTO FILLS FRAME. Pull up and away from it to reveal Will STANDING IN DARKNESS. HE NOW STANDS IN THE ROOM in the picture, pre-fire/pre-murder. Hiding in shadow. We are --

BAILIFF'S HOUSE - NIGHT-

The bailiff ‘Y/N’ enters in her uniform, turning on a light. His Mind is playing tricks on him again, a cruel trick but a trick indeed. She sees Will. She KNOWS Will.

The STAG's HEAD stands in the center of the room. The bailiff looks confused. Before she can speak – “I shoot Mr. Sykes once, collapsing lungs, tearing through his heart's aorta and pulmonary arteries.” Will Graham raises a silenced handgun and SHOOTS the bailiff ‘Y/N’ square in the chest.

“He will die believing we were friends. It is his last thought.” The bailiff's face falls in shock and blood blooms on the chest of her uniform... Will moves to the dying bailiff and, as she would fall, Will grabs him. LIFTS HER BODILY as Will swings Her, high and hard, down onto the stag's head. RAMP back to NORMAL SPEED as the antlers burst brutally from the bailiff's chest...

“His death isn't personal.” Will's hand, gloved, removes WILL'S POCKET KNIFE from the evidence bag. He stands over the gruesome dead bailiff ‘Y/N’. Will's face knots in effort as he starts to cut, ETCHING a GLASGOW SMILE. “He is merely the ink from which flows my poem.” He stands to reveal he has now cut off the RIGHT EAR. As it drops into an EVIDENCE BAG --“My tribute. This is my design.” Will Graham stares down at his work.

BSHCI - PRIVACY ROOM - DAY -

Will Graham as he looks up from the photographs to Hannibal stroking the back of a hyperventilating Y/N. Her Head buried into the crook of his neck. Obviously coming out of a panic attack. Will looks worried and goes to say something but Hannibal shakes his head.

“It's not the same killer. He murdered his victim first, then mutilated him. Whether it's me he thinks he's copying or someone else, that's not how we roll.”

“How do you roll?”

“Cassie Boyle's lungs were removed when she was still breathing. Georgia Madchen was burned alive. What I found of Abigail was cut off while her heart was beating.”

“Then this is blunt reproduction?” Hannibal asks as he runs his fingers soothingly up and down Y/N's Spine. “You knew that already.” Will responds as he watches Hannibal's hands on his lover's body. “Would've liked to have been wrong.” Hannibal says as he watches Will’s eyes curiously.

“Occam's broom. You intentionally ignored facts that refute your argument and hoped nobody noticed.” Will says with a raised brow. “You noticed. I wanted to dispel your doubts once and for all.” Hannibal admits as he strokes Y/N's Hair, “My doubts about what?”

“Me. I want you to believe in the best of me, Will. Just as I believe in the best of you. This crime offered us both reasonable doubt.”

“It offered us a distraction.”

“Maybe this acolyte has given you your path to freedom. Even Jack Crawford is ready to believe, Will.” Hannibal suggests

“It would be a lie.”

“No greater than the lie that binds you here, that claims you are guilty.” That lands on Will. “I must admit to selfish motives. I don't want you to be here.” Hannibal says shamelessly. “I don't want me to be here, either.” Will says as he reaches a hand to stroke Y/Ns arm, (Because that's what he could reach).

“Then you have a choice. This killer wrote you a poem, Will. Are you going to let his love go to waste?” Hannibal says as he smirks on the inside as he smells the sweet aroma of Y/N’s hair. WILL GRAHAM ponders that choice as he Looks at his lover, His Butterfly --

BSHCI - PRIVACY ROOM - DAY-

Y/N is mid-discussion with Will Graham and Leonard Brauer. “We were heading one direction and now, we are heading another.” Brauer says with an enthusiastic smirk. “You're going to abandon your defense strategy, the entire case you've built... mid-trial.” I say flabbergasted at the current situation.

“Exciting, isn't it?” Brauer says without a care. “This seems reasonable to you?” I ask completely and utterly once again Flabbergasted. “Not only reasonable, fashionable. There's a killer on the loose, demonstrating all the hallmarks of Will Graham's alleged murders. Somebody out there likes you.” Brauer says as he turns his attention to Will.

“You suffered an illness whose brutality was matched only by its perversity. This happened to you, Will. We all saw it happen. Me and Hannibal saw the most.” I say as I grasp his hand softly.

“I didn't see all of it.” Will says as he strokes my hand with his thumb. “I didn't see any of it.” Brauer says as I eye Brauer and decide to remain calm.

“It was cruel. And it was real. Do you think this killer committed the murders you're accused of?” I ask Will seriously, now i dont think this killer committed Will’s ‘Crimes’. But I do think another killer did. “Don't answer that. Not in front of me. It's inconsequential.” Brauer says as he shook his head.

“But is it true?” I ask, “You're being awfully high and mighty, Dr. L/N. Adorable, but high and mighty. Very ivory tower. Very reductive. Very far from the point, which is the exoneration of your ‘friend’ Will Graham.” What the actual hell is that supposed to mean.

“And the point you're trying to make is reasonable doubt.” I say incredulously, “That's a win.” Brauer smirks. “Best you can hope for is mistrial.” I say confused at his motive. “Will Graham's alive. Also a win.”

“You won't be able to plead unconsciousness again.” I say worried about this. I dont want anything bad to happen to Will. I don't know what I would do if something did. “Your fast, triumphant diagnosis of unconsciousness was the best play we had. Now we have a better play. Needless to say, I won't be calling you to take the witness stand.”

“Who's taking the stand in my place?” I ask confused, I’m Will’s partner. What the hell is this fucker on about.

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY -

Hannibal’s Eyes are straight ahead. As he walks forward – We hear the hollow CLOP of hooves coming closer... Will turns his head and sees only Hannibal in his smart suit as he moves past and toward the witness stand. Stay on Will.

“I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God…” Will turns

Brauer stands before Hannibal Lecter. “Describe your relationship with Will Graham.”

“I was asked by Jack Crawford to monitor Will's emotional well-being while he consulted on cases. I was never officially his psychiatrist.”

“If you weren't his psychiatrist, what were you?”

“I was meant to be another part of Will's stability. I failed him in that.”

“How did you fail?”

“I was unable to determine if Will's condition was due to mental illness or stress from his work at the FBI.” Hannibal looks straight at Will. Holds his gaze. Jack and Y/N are in the gallery. Prurnell to one side of them. “My mistake was never considering his innocence. Until the murder of a bailiff from this courthouse.” Hannibal looks at Will and then at Jack. In the gallery, Prurnell turns to Jack Crawford. Hannibal locks eyes with Will. “How do you know this, Dr. Lecter?”

“I have been asked to consult on the case by Jack Crawford. He wanted a profile of the bailiff's killer.”

“You believe the bailiff's murder was committed by the same person guilty of Will Graham's alleged crimes?”

Marion Vega stands. “Profiles aren't evidence, they're opinion. This is hearsay.”

“I'll allow it.”

“Thank you, your honor.”

“I believe there are alarming similarities in the crimes.” Hannibal says as he looks at the judge. “Will Graham accused you of the crimes for which he stands trial. And yet, here you are, testifying on his behalf for the defense.”

“Will rightfully couldn't accept these actions as his own. A mind faced with the possibility of committing such deeds finds an alternative reality to believe in.”

“You don't blame him for that?”

“No. Will Graham is and will always be my friend.” Hannibal holds Will's gaze. “Your witness.”

Vega stands. “Dr. Lecter, what was the cause of death in the bailiff's murder?”

“A bullet to the heart.”

“And Will Graham's victims, alleged victims? Their cause of death?”

“Mutilation.”

“That's different than a bullet.”

“No two crimes of any killer are going to be exactly the same.” Hannibal says as he looks to Y/N, she’s looking at Him. Hoping that he does not damn her lover, Her partner. “Is it common for a killer's mode of operation to be wildly divergent?”

“Not common. Not unheard of either.”

“Your honor, the witness's personal beliefs and biases are driving his conclusions. These are clearly two different killers, two different cases. The prejudicial impact outweighs the probative value.”

“There is sufficient similarity to consider this defense on the issue.” Brauer says as he stands.

“I'm ruling this defense inadmissable, Mr. Brauer. All previous testimony on the matter will be stricken from the record.” Judge Davies says. “Thank you, your honor.” Jack, Y/N react to the finality of the judge's statement. Hannibal glances at Will, an apology, then averts his eyes.

COURTHOUSE - HALLWAY - MORNING-

JANITOR pushing a motorized circular floor scrubber down the hall. He wears headphones and tinny ROCK MUSIC can be heard. He stops at the doors to our courtroom. Pushes them open and FLICKS ON THE LIGHTS. They illuminate the room and the janitor GASPS!

Where the mighty seal once adorned the wall behind the bench, a terrible sight now is revealed. Judge Davies -- MUTILATED, hanging suspended from the hook that once held up the heavy plaque. His arms out sideways in a Christlike pose, supported by a wooden rod. He has been made into the iconic statue of Justice -- the top of his head is missing and bandages cover his eyes. He is holding a set of scales in one hand.

Judge Davies’s BRAIN sits in one scale, his HEART in the other. The janitor stands, stunned, the tinny music still rapping a beat against his ears…

COURTHOUSE - COURTROOM - DAY-

A CRIME SCENE in progress. Katz, Price and Zeller are processing the dead judge, Jack observing. Hannibal and Y/N are walking down the aisle, awestruck by the tableau. “Not only is justice blind, it is mindless and heartless.” Hannibal says as he looks ahead, I nod my head “No kidding” I say as I gaze at the macabre beauty of the literal metaphor of the image before me.

“Judge was killed in his chambers, then hauled out here for display.” Jack says as he approaches me and Hannibal. “How did the killer get so close?” Hannibal asks. “There was no signs of a struggle. Mutilation was postmortem.” Bev says as she points it out.

“He was shot in the chest just like the bailiff. Can't find the entry wound because he removed the heart.” Zeller says from beside the body. “But there's an exit wound. No slug. Must have took it with him.” Jimmy says smiling like he almost always is. “A trophy.” I say as Jack averts his eyes from the death tableau. He speaks privately to Hannibal and I:

“I didn't know how much I wanted this to end, until it didn't. No verdict. No ending. It starts over. Right from the beginning. Like the trial never happened. Why?” Jack asks us, the psychiatrists.

“Psychopathic violence is predominantly goal-oriented, a means to a very particular end.” Hannibal says and i nod in agreement. “The killer wanted a mistrial?” Jack asks with furrowed brows.

“It's an elegant, if rather unorthodox, solution.” I say with a straight face and honestly im quite satisfied with the result because I now have more time to prove Will’s Innocence. “To what?” Jack asks me and Hannibal.

“He spared Will a guilty verdict and, for the moment, spared Will's life.” I say calmly and I feel shivers up my spine as Hannibal’s Hand grazes my lower back. “Is this the same killer? Or is Will still on trial in your mind?” Jack asks Hannibal, “I feel like St. Peter, denying Will a third time. Like you, I fear my hopes about him were wrong. I don't think it's the same killer.” Hannibal says as He looks past him and Jack turns to see Kade Prurnell in the doorway to the court. Taking in the terrible sight.

“Excuse me.” Jack leaves Hannibal and me and goes to join her in the doorway to the court. They are silhouetted in the doorframe, as the crime scene work continues behind them.

BAU - FORENSICS LAB - DAY-

A WEB PAGE clicks up on screen. "Murda-bilia." It is a website dealing in murder memorabilia -- killers' signatures, former belongings, etc.: amateurish paintings, handwritten notes, creepy vials, that sort of thing. Jimmy Price turns away from the screen to reveal Jack, Y/N and Hannibal with Zeller and Katz.

“You want a signed Gacy painting, this is the guy who'll get you it. Name's Jonathan Mullion. I went through all of the bailiff's email traffic. Three messages he replied to were using a nym server which furnishes an untraceable address.” Jimmy says with a amused smile.

“Belonging to this guy Mullion.” Jack says as Beverly Katz looks at Jack, Hannibal, and Y/N. “We found an old partial print in Sykes's house. Not enough points to stand up in court, but it came back to Mullion. He was arrested for breaking into a murder scene and stealing artifacts.” Bev says as Zeller points to a report.

“Look at the date, Jack.” Zeller says as Jack looks at the report. His face falls. “Mullion was arrested in Florida. Same day Cassie Boyle was killed. There's no way he was in Minnesota.”

“Will Graham was in Minnesota.” Zeller says and i scoff, “Me and Hannibal were also in Minnesota when Cassie Boyle was murdered. But i don't see anyone throwing accusations at us.” I say angrily at Zeller. Jack looks at Hannibal. Saddened. “We got an address?”

MULLION'S APARTMENT - NIGHT-

A weird, dim single-room-occupancy apartment. We SLOWLY PAN over the walls and see strange outsider art- type stuff, amateurish paintings, handwritten notes, creepy vials; it’s serial killer memorabilia. A desk sits amid the clutter. A green glow from the laptop that sits above it. The SCREEN SAVER winks: "JUST SAYING HI TO THE FBI." Take in the crumpled paper on the desktop.

Y/N, Hannibal, Zeller, Price and Katz are now in the room. Zeller, Price and Katz are

cataloging evidence. Beverly hands Jack a bound book. He opens it. Monograph on Time of Death by Insect Activity, by Will Graham. It is signed by the author. Jack sighs deeply. Hannibal stands over the laptop. Looks at the message winking on there.

“Poor Will. I fear his new friend has condemned him.” Hannibal moves away from the laptop. Just like that, as if by magic, a pair of folded EYEGLASSES sits by the laptop. Hannibal walks to the foreground as, behind him, we hear --

“Are these the judge's eyeglasses?”

BSHCI - PRIVACY ROOM - DAY -

A shaft of light. Will's hand wafts through it, turns as if to catch the light. Y/N sits opposite him. “I was hoping a verdict would've Helped. I can't exactly blame your lawyer.”

“Faith in any sort of legal justice has never been any more comforting than a nightlight.” Will says as he gazes Lovingly at me.“There are so many miscarriages of justice when it comes to identifying psychopaths. You could have easily been misdiagnosed.” I say as I bring my chair next to him rather than opposite of him. I’m tired of being away from him. “I've already been misdiagnosed.”

“Not by the court.”

“Not yet.”

“How are you feeling, Will?” I ask as I brush his hair out of his face with my fingers.

“I'm numb except for dreading the loss of numbness. I walked out of that courtroom and I could hear my blood like a hollow drumming of wings. I had the absurd feeling whoever this killer is, he walked out of that courtroom with me.” Will says as he places a hand on my thigh. “He didn't.”

“He's going to reach out to me.”

“What does he want?”

“He wants to know me. What do you want?” He strokes my Thigh softly. She considers the question before answering simply: “I want you.” I say softly as i look him in the eyes as a single tear falls.

#hannibal nbc #hannigram #hannibal x reader #fem!reader #hannigram x reader #will graham x reader #twistedminds

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