#hannibal: tell me will did you like taking hobbs’ oranges? did it make you feel alive? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-avengers-ate-my-tongue · 5 years

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Speachless (part 1)

Summary: after a few days out visiting your mom in other state, Alana calls you to tell you Will was arrested for the murder of Abigail Hobbs and the victims of the copycat killer. You and Will are currently involved, and you know he’d never do something like that but, with consistent evidences and all fingers pointed to him, how would you prove the man you love is innocent?

Pairing: Will Graham x reader

Warnings: swearing, a little angst

Word count: 2843

A/N: Hannibal again! Haha, I’m still obsessed and managed to introduce a friend to the show, soon I’ll start a cult (just kidding. Or am I?). One of the things that bothered me and my friend the most at the end of season one was how everyone just turned their backs to Will so quickly. I understand, they’re FBI, there were evidences, but I don’t know, maybe it’s my favoritism for the character talking. My friend also said that she found unnerving how he’s treated like a machine, a tool, especially by Jack Crawford. That stuck in my mind for days, and I decided to write something at the end of season one to let my mind flow my frustration. Hope you guys enjoy it! Probably there will be a second part of this, I still have a few scenes in my mind and this was supposed to be a oneshot. Let’s see how it goes.

XXX

“What do you mean he was arrested?” My voice trembled while I drove as fast as I could back to Virginia. “Alana, you have to tell me what's going on. Will doesn't need to be arrested, he needs…”

“Some evidences where found in his house yesterday, Y/N.” Her voice faulted, and I could hear her sadness bursting out and reaching me like a breeze. “We really tried to contact you. The FBI found genetic material of the victims of the copycat. They... They think Will killed all those people”.

For a second, I felt my hands go numb. My eyes were wide, my mouth dry. I had no reaction. I lost my attention on the road, only to regain it by almost hitting a huge truck.

I yelled in anticipation, turning as much as I could. The car drove off the road, skidding on sand and finally stopping a few meters ahead.

“Y/n? What's happening?” Alana's voice sounded urgent and took me out of my daze. “Y/n, are you okay?”

“This is ridiculous!” I snapped, and Alana sighed with relief. “Will did not kill them! He wasn't even sick when Cassie Boyle or Marissa Schuur was murdered.”

“The evidences were substantial. And after Abigail, after today, there's nothing we can do for him... At least not anymore” Alana admitted with moderated grief. I felt my mouth dry at the same time I could feel my own sweat soak the wheel under my hands. I could also feel my nails digging so hard the pain woke me up.

“Fucking Jack Crawford” I tried not to sound so revolted, but I couldn't help it. “Damn FBI. We warned him. We saw Will lose his sanity over and over and we didn't do shit. We saw he was breaking. Goddammit... We failed him.”

“I know you two were...” She hesitated, looking for words to put it lightly. “Involved. He escaped custody while he was being taken to Baltimore State Hospital this afternoon. Just promise me you won't do anything stupid and will call Jack or me if he tries to reach you.”

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, uncertain of what to say.

“Y/n.” Alana tried again in a softer tone. “Will's not himself at the moment. He killed Abigail and maybe four more people. I... I don't want to worry about you too.”

I realized how much wrecked she sounded, and a small and unwanted smile crossed my lips.

“I'm a big girl, Lana. You don't have to worry about me, you know?” I tried to laugh it off, but it just came out as a cry.

“Jack wants to see you. You might need to give a statement.” She replied. “We tried to contact you sooner. How's your mom?”

“She’s fine, it was just a warning for her to stop eating junkie food all the time. I can't do this right now, Alana. I can't just chit chat like that and I can't see Jack being this affected. I need to clear up my head. I'll go home, have a shower and...”

My voice just faded as I rubbed my eyes. How was that happening? The last time I talked to Will, he said he was planning to take Abigail Hobbs to Minnesota. That was three days ago. How did so much happen in this short matter of time?

“What did Hannibal say in all of this? He was supposed to warn Jack if he'd seen Will would break. Where was he in all of this?” I couldn't hide my annoyed tone. Hannibal was an old acquaintance of mine as well as Alana's, and I'm sure he'd find my tone quite insolent if he could hear me right now.

“He was the first one Will called. He showed me a drawing he made of a clock two weeks ago. It was normal. Whatever it is, it's something that comes and goes and gives him episodes of instability.”

“Couldn't it be some sort of encephalitis?” I asked after a few seconds of silence, trying to see the evidences. “He had a lot of fever, especially by night time. It got worse after a while. Sometimes he'd like... Vanish mentally to somewhere I couldn't reach. I'd talk to him, but he wasn't really there, you know? In his own mind.”

“I thought about encephalitis, too. He escaped custody before we could run some tests. That's also why we need to find him as soon as possible. It's a dangerous condition, he needs treatment.”

“You're absolutely right. Of course, I'll... See what I can do.” I hated the way my voice sounded so unsure, and I knew Alana would notice it.

She sighed.

“Are you sure you're okay to drive? If you text me your location, I can pick you up.”

“I'm fine. Just half an hour and I'll be home safe and sound.” I said in a melancholic tone. “I'll call Jack later and see what I can do to help.”

She probably was relieved to see some sign of cooperation, even if I didn't really mean it. I hung up and, before I could even realize, drove to Will's place even knowing he wouldn't be there. Of course he wouldn't. I just needed to be sure.

A few minutes later, I parked outside, getting out of the car with my legs like jelly. Not even the dogs were there. That broke my heart even more, as if they extinguished all of Will's essence of the place. I went back to the car with my heart heavy, heading straight home. A shower would do me some good.

By the moment I turned the key on the keyhole I felt the atmosphere changing. Like electric sparks in the air that made all possible hair in my body stand up. I could barely assimilate the hand gripping my pulse and pulling me inside, another firm hand shutting my mouth.

I tried to gasp for air so I could scream but, as I realized the smell that came inside my lungs, my whole body relaxed and I felt relieved.

Will. He was there.

He smelled like pine trees, wet dirt, aftershave and sometimes fish. And dogs, always dogs. A smell that was far from bad and reminded me of him. My eyes were filled with tears as I saw his state. He was pale, sweating and wearing an orange uniform. His breathing was accelerated, he was trembling.

I took his hand off my mouth and pulled him close, throwing myself into his arms. I hid my face in his neck, taking a deep breath. His smell, his essence was still there indeed. I closed my eyes as I felt my tears wet my face, and he hid his face in my hair, grabbing myself in a hug so tight I could feel my bones cracking. I stood away only to see his face. He had this feverish complexion that only made me more worried as I recalled of Alana's words.

“Talk to me, Will. What's happening?” I practically begged, pulling him to the sofa. “God, you're burning up, Will. You have to see a doctor.”

“Y/n, you have to hear me now. Someone is framing me.” He started while refused to sit, his eyes a little wide. “Someone is trying to make it look like I committed the crimes of the copycat. We find him, we find the copycat. It's someone who's close, who knew the case and the evidences, someone in the bureau. Someone we know.”

I felt the shivers go around my body like an electric shock, taking a few steps behind as I covered my mouth with one hand. He sounded very sure, and I couldn't help remember the confusion that stroke his mind in the past few weeks. My mind worked fast and I evaluated all the information I had so far on the cases, trying to make connections. I could see Will was agitated but he allowed me to take my time, and his confidence on me gave me more strength. Even if you could separate the fact that Will was unstable from evidences and informations I had, for me there was still a gap. Missing data.

So I decided to trust him. Trust the man I knew he was, the man I cared deeply about. The selfless, kind man I could see under his armor. Took me a long time to break through the thick layer, and I wouldn't turn my back on him now. He was not the "catching bad guys machine", and I felt like I was the only one that could see it at the moment. There must be an explanation.

“Someone that had easy access to your house, knew your routine, knew exactly what was happening to you...” I felt my heart pumping through my chest like a hummingbird. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was someone close. Probably someone I knew, someone wearing a social mask I couldn't see beyond it. I started searching for clues in my own mind, but i suspected any single little thing would seem suspicious if I didn't get more information. I looked to Will one more time, and saw a little pity in his eyes. No one wanted to find out that someone they know, probably someone close could commit those horrible crimes.

I sighed, scanning his face. In spite of the fever, he seemed more conscious that I'd seen him in the past few days. His eyes were darker, more vivid, glowing almost sickeningly. His hair was a mess, all over his face and gluing on his forehead because of the sweat. He was sharp. I could see it.

“You know who it is, don't you?” I licked my lips, biting my bottom one nervously. He followed my tongue with his eyes, and they seemed to grow even darker.

“I might.”

“Tell me.”

“The less you know the better. If I'm right... I... I don't wanna be right.” He closed his eyes for a few seconds, probably choosing the right words. “It's serious, Y/n. You don't want me to be right, trust me.”

“I do. And I want you to trust me.” I pulled his hair out of his forehead, caressing his defined jawline.

He held my wrists abruptly, pulling my hands down. I didn't even blink, and he smiled lightly. He'd never scare me. I knew the man standing in front of me. I knew he'd never hurt me.

“You don't think I've murdered all those people.”

“Of course I don't. That was never in question.” I replied in a petulant tone. Will opened his mouth to speak, then closed it without making a sound.

“You seem to be the first.” He said, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice and eyes and avoiding to look at me. That broke my heart in a way that almost made me feel sick.

My eyes filled with tears and I tried to smile, probably grimacing.

“Maybe I know you too well. Beyond you boundaries and everything else. Did you ever consider that?” I asked in a playful tone. He didn't smile or laugh, though. He just came closer, touching my lips with his in a sweet, caring kiss. They felt hot and a little bit dry, probably due the fever. I could feel all the gratitude in his kiss, the way his hands held my face with tenderness.

He broke the kiss only to keep his forehead on mine, his eyes still closed. My hands caressed the sides of his face as I tried to stop the tears from falling.

“Will. Listen to me. I know you want to catch who's doing this to you, and I think it's only reasonable. But escaping custody will only make you look more guilty, and that's the least you need at the moment. You need treatment.” I tried to sound sensible, but I knew he didn't need to listen to that. He knew I was right, of course, that was obvious.

“You're right. And I will turn myself in. I just have one last stop.” He seemed so certain I knew I wouldn't convince him otherwise.

“Then promise me something, Will Graham.” I held him by his orange uniform with a pleading look. "Promise me you won't do anything reckless. Promise me you won't get hurt".

He didn't reply, taking a deep breath, his face getting sweeter.

“I have no idea what I've done to deserve someone like you.” He said, kissing me again. I held him by his neck as he touched my waist, pulling me closer, his agile fingers marking my skin. The kiss started to get deeper and deeper as I could feel a certain agitation below my abdomen.

“Well...” I pulled away, trying to regain my breath. “Let's get you out of this clothes.”

He was breathing hard, taking a moment to absorb my words. His eyes were darker than ever.

“Y/n...” He started with an uncertain tone, making me laugh a little.

“Well, you can't move around the city in this orange uniform, can you?” I explained in a false innocent tone. “What did you think I meant? You left some clothes here.”

He lowered his eyes, turning slightly red. But the cynic smile was still in his lips.

I climbed the stairs and he followed me. We entered my room and I went straight to the closet, searching for a few clothes I knew he'd left there. As he changed, I took the orange uniform and hid it in a large shoebox I had, putting it behind other boxes.

“There you go. All packed” I said, trying to hide how nervous I was lowering my eyes and staring at my shoes as if they were very interesting. He noticed, of course.

“Y/n…” He started.

“Stay.” I hated the way my voice cracked, that made me feel so weak. I was a very emotional person, while Will was more rational. Nevertheless, I knew he had his moments, I’d seen it.

He sighed, coming to me and lifting my chin with his index while caressed me with his thumb. I closed my eyes, rubbing my face in his hand like a kitten and cursing myself mentally for the tears that stained my cheeks. I felt so desperate. That was serious, he was being framed for someone else’s crimes, someone dangerous that all of us knew. And I had no idea how to prove it, just my blind belief that wasn’t useful for nobody but us. I was facing it; maybe, the following days, even months, would be seeing Will mostly behind bars.

“You know I can’t.” He said in a condescended tone, his deep blue eyes studying my face. “I wasn’t even supposed to be here. It was reckless. I’m sure Jack has eyes for me everywhere, including here. I’m already running out of time. And if he knows about us, then I shouldn’t have even come here in the first place.”

“I know. I’m just being silly.” I agreed, wiping my tears away with a little smile. “And Will, honestly, I think everyone knows about us by now. We weren’t exactly good at hiding it.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Alana was the first to find out, you know?” I told him as I avoided staring at his face, feeling my cheeks burn a little. “She noticed how I looked at you. She says I look like a fool. A beautiful little fool. I asked her not to tell a soul about it, but I’m terrible on hiding my feelings, as you may know. Especially… Especially when it comes to you.”

He listened to my words in silence, his hand still caressing my chin. I noticed how wet they were, he was sweating. I tried to imagine those hands committing violent murder, carving a macabre smile on Sutcliffe’s face, putting Cassie Boyle on the top of those stag antlers. That felt… Wrong. Inadequate. Maybe it was my feelings talking, but I just couldn’t see it.

“So, probably the whole bureau knows by now.” I continued, stepping away and breaking any physical contact. It would be easier to let him go, and he knew it, he saw it in my eyes. I held my body as a form of solace, staring at the floor. “You should go, Will. You’re right. This is dangerous, my house may be under surveillance right now as we speak. Just… Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

He hesitated, opening his mouth to answer at the same moment my phone rang. I startled with the high-pitched sound, taking the goddamn thing out of my pocket and checking the name on the screen. Jack.

I turned my back on him, picking up the phone.

“Jack. Yes. I’m here.” I tried to fight back the tears, sounding convincing enough. I didn’t even had to turn to know Will was gone. His smell slowly began to fade, and in a few seconds, I felt completely alone.

Part two

#Hannibal #Will Graham #mads mikkelsen #hugh dancy #will graham x reader #will graham imagine #hannibal imagine #will graham headcanon #hannibal oneshot #hannibal season one #will graham oneshot

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dont-be-rude · 7 years

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.:. I Will Smite All Thy Borders With Frogs .:.

The Story so Far with @unstableempathy

Summary: After solving the Stammets case, Will quickly finds himself working on another case with a violent killer. The deaths center around frogs found in the victims’ throats, and Will embarks on a journey of violence through the mind of the killer. He’s losing himself in the anger, and quickly finds himself discussing the case with Hannibal. The doctor has a choice: help Will find himself grounded once more in reality or encourage the young male to embrace this new violent nature.

unstableempathy

A simple decision is all it took to possibly change one’s life forever. From the first day he accepted Hannibal’s invitation for breakfast that one morning, he hadn’t expected anything in his life to change so drastically. It had just been a simple breakfast and it was nothing more than that. However, as the day crawled on, he found himself in the most precarious situation and by the end of that afternoon, the Minnesota Shrike had been killed. He had killed him. What suddenly had clicked within Will Graham’s mind proved that he could inflict pain upon another? He didn’t understand what had suddenly clicked within his mind to suddenly trigger such a horrific reaction from him. Before that incident, he hadn’t even been able to pull the trigger, so what had changed? He didn’t know and the fact that the question remained unanswered was another factor that continued to irritate him.

The sensation that flooded his veins upon seeing his shots make contact with Hobbs, had filled him with pure glory. It raced through him like liquid fire and slight acted like an addiction. He had been craving to kill again, with the beast that had been planted within him roaring in an answer over the fact that he was resisting. Maybe had been wise to allow this to happen but how long could he really hold off such a powerful force that resided inside of him? Hopefully for as long as he lived. Upon shooting Eldon Stammets, he felt that rush of gold through his blood again and it made his mind sing in pleasure. It almost made him sick to realize that he was enjoying this. But he did not kill Stammets. Again, he stopped himself from allowing the beast free.

Exhaling deeply, he waited outside of the door that lead to Hannibal’s office, with a mind full of questions and statements that had been eating away at his mind. There was something about his own doctor that intrigued him and constantly drew him back with his curiosity perking every time he set foot in the room. There was a sort of elegance to Hannibal Lecter that was unique and it attracted him like a curious fish to the light of an angler fish. His chocolate curls had remained in their usually slightly disheveled state and his eyes still contained the glimpse of someone who had seen way too many horrors of the world. His expression was worn and laced with exhaustion that never left him. The rim of his glasses that rested upon his nose bridge were perfectly positioned to block eye contact from others and he was still not feeling comfortable enough with Lecter to remove them yet. His glasses acted like another barrier that protected his mind against those who wished to peak into the horrors that rested within his mind palace. He shifted lightly upon his feet before the sound of the door being opened grabbed his attention and Will’s gaze slowly rose.

dont-be-rude

As the doctor opened the door, he gave Will the smallest of smiles. He could see the man before him was beginning to fall apart, recognize the darkness inside of him. It left many different pathways for him to follow, and Hannibal was curious what directions he’d go down. What directions he himself could encourage William to follow. William: a resolute protector; willpower. Would he be able to resist even Hannibal’s influence and persuasion? So few could. Perhaps that was part of what made will so fascinating.

“Ah, William. Right on time. Please, come in.” He stepped back, holding the door open for his friend, patient… An hour or more of pleasant conversation. Graham was always the last appoint of the day for just that reason. An appointment to look forward to. Discussions, a dance, a thought here and influence there to help encourage Will to reach his true potential. He lead Will into the room, and took his usual seat. At times, Will sat. Others, he stood. Rarely, he paced. He allowed the other to decide on his own while he flattened the front of his plaid suit: blue hues, with dark red pieces, an eggshell pocket square, and matching shirt. One of his more muted, though colorful ensembles, contrasting with the dread falling so easily from Will’s expression and hitched, erratic movements.

“You have something on your mind.” It wasn’t a question, such was obvious. “Was there another case?” There was. He’d read about it already, thanks to a certain nosy reporter, but reading facts were often far different from what William could concoct in his mind. That, truly, was far more interesting.

Though he couldn’t deny the interest in the murders, so unlike his own. There was a flare of poetics to the diabetic bodies buried and meant to become one with nature. Hannibal was taken by art, the majesty of it. Humans couldn’t connect with nature, just as they couldn’t with art. Not truly. Art was something that only one person could see, create, and hope the viewer could get a glimpse of their world. Their own nature. This man was more interested in being a part of what was already there.

Certainly a different motive, and one Hannibal had no desire in recreating. There were some crimes and murders that inspired him, or sickened him to the point of needing to correct. This was not one of them. Instead, he found himself with yet another person shot by Will’s hand, and the male slowly sinking further into darkness. Beautiful.

He pressed his paintbrush into the dark charcoal color, hints of red and oranges, of passions Will had yet to fully accept, painting the other’s mind in a way to leave lasting influence.

“Tell me what happened.”

unstableempathy

Cases were always an interesting topic when it came to these sessions and if he wasn’t being forced to attend therapy by Jack, Will would have kept the information to himself. However, he discovered that maybe sittings were just another opportunity to allow his thoughts free. As an introvert, he found inspiration within himself and he occasionally took the ideas of others to add into the equation.

He never liked being called by his first name. He was never sure why but he assumed that he never particularly enjoyed how it sounded. As a result, he preferred being called the famous nickname that others with his same name had been addressed by. It’s just what he preferred, but he wouldn’t necessarily complain if one didn’t. For now, hopefully, it would just be Hannibal who called him by such a title.

Stepping into the office, he allowed his gaze to survey his surroundings. Nothing had changed since the last time he was here and everything still had its orderly place. The books were still placed neatly upon the bookshelves, with a few of them in a different position since he last remembered them. But there was nothing too jarring. The room was still extremely organized and it held a certain tone of elegance to it, like it’s owner. Will was orderly, but tended to stick to smaller atmospheres.

Like clockwork, the daily sessions were always at the same time and the schedule never shifted unless there was a sudden cancellation. It was another hopeless routine that Will had fallen into and Jack wouldn’t allow him to allow the habit to break. For now, the empath would have to carry on and soldier through the meetings.

“Stammets was taken into custody,” he started slow before taking several steps forward until the notion of walking fell into place again. He settled to take a slow approach to getting closer to Lecter. There was still something that was pricking at his nerves about this man that made him feel slightly uneasy. The feeling would most likely fade over time so for now, it would have to advance at a steady pace. “But I assume you’re already aware of it.”

Journalists. Damn reporters. Damn them all. They were just a pesky fly that bothered a water buffalo. One of them in particular seemed to take a special interest in him and in all honesty, he had already had enough of her. If her body was suddenly found in a roadside ditch, Will would be silently applaud the killer who had done it. She was a vulture that was ruthless in her ways of gaining information on him and there would come a time when her determination would eventually get her killed. Being a journalist in this field was not something someone should ever take lightly.

“He was only captured because of what I did.” Stammets had made a careless mistake in going after Abigail Hobbs and Will had been exceptionally quick to react when Jack phoned him to give him a warning. “Now, that’s not what I’m here to discuss, I mean it is, but,” he paused slightly as if to collect his thoughts, with his stride stopping in place. “Reports had flooded in this morning about bodies being found with a…rather peculiar lump within their throat. When Zeller and Price decided to dissect one of the said bodies, a toad was found in the esophagus. The rest of the corpses had the same assessment.” The empath swallowed hard before exhaling. “And the toad is what ultimately what the victim choked to death on.”

That was the highlight of his day. A toad in the throat. One could hardly find that amusing, but somehow Price managed to make a joke about it that had the whole room groaning. But the beast inside of Will was stirring again and it was flashing an outcome across his mind of this killer meeting a rather gruesome end by his own hand.

dont-be-rude

Hannibal was patient, as he always was when it came to the other. Will had a tendency to be flighty, and anxious when it came to sharing information. However, after the first step when Will began to talk, when a conversation began between the two, he would settle into himself and the rhythm that so naturally beat between them: two of a kind, simply separate sides of a coin.

His eyes trailed after the man, waiting for him to look around and grow used to his surroundings. Hannibal was sure in some way he felt out of his element, and yet Will was straightforward enough to not let it stop him. Will’s connection to his environment wasn’t the problem, it was the people within it. It was part of why Hannibal was always so calm around the other: attempting to be the rock, the solace within the crushing waves that surrounded Will’s unique mind.

Ground him first, and make sure he was the one to leave the other changed.

With the first jarring statement, Hannibal simply nodded. The disappointment of such had already been felt, as it would have been preferred for the man to be dead. However, it did leave him being able to focus on Will’s first victim, and the benefit of having been able to witness such occasion.

How lovely it would be when the two could hunt together.

“I am aware, but I don’t care much what the reporters have to say, so much as your interpretation.” His words were soft, easy, helping to surround the other with what little comfort he could manage. Something he wasn’t particularly good at, but years of his psychiatric practice had drilled other methods into him. And Hannibal always strove to be the best at whatever he did, no matter how small the action.

He could see the anger brimming within the other, and knew it had to be a mixture of Stammets and reporters. It didn’t take much to assume his mirth was directed at one reporter in particular; one rather rude Freddie Lounds. Hannibal couldn’t quite blame the other for it, and wondered if one day he’d be coaching Will through the death of the reporter that seemed just as fascinated by the empath as he was. Though perhaps wonder wasn’t quite the right word, as he found himself devising patterns and words to help lead William down that road in particular.

“And what did you do?” he asked, leaning forward slightly, head tilted and eyes taking in the expression playing so easily over Will’s face. “By all accounts, it seemed as if you’d shot him and protected–” our “– Abigail. Something we are both thankful for.” Though who was included in ‘both’ he left up to Will.

It seemed that the empath didn’t wish to focus on the crimes recently solved, wishing to move ahead to another one entirely. A shame, really, as Hannibal wished to help hone that defensive instinct within Will until he was less merciful with his protection.

Hannibal was a patient man, however, and knew they could easily cycle back to it. Pushing too hard too soon would merely leave Will on the defensive, calculating, aware–all things necessary to avoid for proper movement.

Instead, he stood as Will began to go over the crimes, giving the other the illusion of privacy as he went to pour them a drink. Scotch, two fingers, nothing he was sure the empath couldn’t handle, and something to help loosen him up. “It surprises me how quickly Jack can find cases to bring you on,” he offered with a smile, lightening the mood before he returned to the seating area. He stood for a moment next to Will, before holding out the glass to him. Even this much was part of it. Making small jokes and smiling while discussing the horrors of crime. Not that Hannibal viewed death or massacres as such, he merely needed to lead Will down that path as well.

“What did your instincts tell you about this killer?” he asked, as he moved to take his normal seat.

Drinking with a client was usually something that was never to be done. But, as Will kept insisting that he was not Hannibal’s patient, he thought to play into that slightly.

He pressed the glass to his lips, allowing himself a little sip before resting the glass on the table next to him, on a black coaster to match his chair. Perhaps if Will grew used to taking drinks with their appointments, he could slip him something here or there to help encourage a looser tongue.

“A rather creative death,” he started, allowing Will to see his own humor in the act. “Perhaps not a graceful one, and lacking in the beauty of the death Stammets provided, but interesting all the same. How many bodies have you found?” And where? While he’d shown no interest in repeating or bettering Stammets’ work, this had a certain biblical element to it. How interesting would it be to involve some of the other plagues of man?

The Copycat Killer may yet have something to contribute.

unstableempathy

Oh questions. The world would stop rotating if it weren’t for questions that were always asked on a regular basis. If the number of inquiries could fill jars, there would be thousands upon thousands of them that held unanswered questions. But they were apart of the equation when it came to getting certain answers. They were a powerful aspect of what helped solve a case, but they could also make one doubt what they thought was correct. It was a dense maze with the only exit being the one that stood beyond many obstacles. One would have to carefully navigate through the winding paths and traps that may litter the path. He was a maze-master and this sort of puzzle was something that he had strengthened his ability to solve over years of putting it into use.

His empathy made this possible. It was more of a curse than actual gift for it gave him the ability to access the mind of a killer, but it made him vulnerable to manipulations and certain ways of the murderer. This was his burden to bare and he would deal with it as long as no one else had to. His mind worked in a very different way and it was impossible for others to profile him. He would rather someone not attempt to draw a psychological description of him. He knew he had certain issues, but didn’t wish them to be voiced by those who didn’t fully know him. It was just another way of setting off his anger that rested deep within him and stirred occasionally. Maybe this was what made him so unpredictable. He had a very strong handle on his emotions, but there were very rare instances when he would lose control over them. He was just a highly emotional person.

Instincts was like a little voice that whispered to him from the depths of his mind and added either an outcome or a detail to cases. He usually relied heavily on them and they helped steer him on a course that lead to success when it came to his occupation. He rarely ignored his instincts. “I feel like we should be checking pet stores to see if any missing toads have been reported.” It was a dry joke, but it earned himself a slight chuckle as the statement slipped from his lips.

The words from Lecter circled through his mind and he slowly was able to come up with proper answers. He recalled information like he had memorized them purposefully and the pieces popped into the front of his thought process on command. “We’ve found four bodies and they lack a pattern in location. Two women, two men.” He rubbed his temples slightly for a moment before allowing a long breath to escape from him. This was a rather peculiar case and it wasn’t like any others that he had been investigating. Each assessment had their own numbers of odd things, but this one was certainly high on his list. It would make the book of the ‘Strangest Things You Will Ever Find As A Criminal Profiler.’

Jack had a certain skill for assigning him to cases that represented one’s intense madness. Will, himself, appeared like a magnet to the insane and it followed him around everywhere. He couldn’t escape the madness that resided within humanity, revealing the darkened side of such a flawed race.

His steps continued as his mind clicked and turned constantly. Details swarmed him like a flurry of mosquitoes and he steadily attempted to sort each one out into their own proper category. The lack in pattern when it came to locations was something that most cases lacked so that wouldn’t be much assistance. As for the toad situation, as much as Will found it slightly amusing, he knew this madman had to be stopped.

The media hadn’t yet titled the murderer and the empath was silently regretting to hear whatever title was given. Even Price’s nicknames for the alleged killer were cringeworthy. Surely, journalists would think of something even worse, but until then, he had time to carry on before having to hear the statement.

Hannibal seemed to have a massive adornment for wine and it was something that Will could never understand. He didn’t have the particular palette for such a alcoholic beverage that he rarely consumed. Sticking to something stronger, whiskey and occasionally scotch was what he went for. The burn the liquids left as it traveled down his throat was satisfying and his tolerance was moderate, however he never found a reason to drink himself senseless.

dont-be-rude

Hannibal didn’t take his eyes from the other. While Will had, at times, problems meeting other’s eyes, Hannibal had no such reservations. ‘Eyes were the windows to the soul’, and Will’s soul was something he was very curious about. Whether he spoke or not, Will, in many ways, wore his emotions easily on his shoulders. It was part of why he found the autistic spectrum analysis incredibly wrong. However, it didn’t surprise. Perhaps the only person who truly understood Will’s abilities, and where it could lead him, was Will himself.

At least until Hannibal came along.

Removing himself from a field of power was certainly a way to help Will maintain some semblance of control, but Hannibal had every intention of fixing that.

William had been playing a game of chess his entire life against himself. Now he had a proper opponent, he just simply hadn’t realized it yet.

He paused as the other began to speak, raising an eyebrow at the little pattern that Will had stumbled across without realizing it.

Two genders, four bodies. Perhaps this was far more biblical than he thought, as that was rather Adam and Eve. Now that God was no longer administering punishments, maybe this killer was. Humanity’s punishment was truly never-ending, though some deserved it more than others. Hannibal found himself far more curious now, and decided that, in this case, the Copycat Killer would certainly make an appearance.

It was interesting watching the frustration on Will’s face. So few killers left Will confused and uncertain. He must have, on some level, recognized and identified the pattern. There must have been something in himself he saw in these kills, as the only time Will hid information from himself, it was to continue his ever-present denial on his own darkness.

There was the possibility that Will understood and agreed with this killer, on a level only his darkness recognized, and it left the conscious portion of his brain wishing to remain unawares.

If Hannibal was able to see the connections without even seeing a picture of the corpses, there was no reason Will shouldn’t. Though, Hannibal did have the upper hand in that he was also a killer. It wasn’t entirely difficult for him to follow the mentality of those who perform such acts, even if his were better.

The design, the desire: it was all very much present.

“I’m certain you’ll find him,” Hannibal offered, and it was true. His eyes expressed as much, and it wasn’t so much a statement of encouragement as one of fact.

He turned then, glancing to his own glass and letting his fingers brush along the outside of the glass where the amber hue of the scotch shone through. Hannibal’s lips parted, taking in a breath before seeming to change his mind and turning his hardened eyes to the other once more. He thought of William Blake’s art, particularly his Judging Adam piece. He wondered if Will would appreciate it for what it was, but Will seemed to lack the appreciation for that particular knowledge. That would change, in time, or so Hannibal was working towards. All knowledge, whether realized or not, was useful.

“Melius enim iudicavit de malis benefacere, quam mala nulla esse permittere.” He smiles at the joke and reference within, unsure if Will will understand, but it’s relevant regardless. He lifts his glass, places it to his lips, and finishes the liquid inside. “Would you care for another?” he offers, though he doesn’t plan on drinking more himself, he won’t stop the other.

Instead, he crosses his legs, undoes the buttons of his jacket to reveal the matching vest beneath it, and returns to observing the frustratingly interesting gentleman sitting before him. “You seem more frustrated about these murders than the last. Why is that?”

unstableempathy

He was one for literature. He did quite a lot of reading in his spare time when he wasn’t paying attention to his dogs. In the winter, he enjoyed cosying up with his furry companions in front of the tiny fireplace. He had a collection of Robert Frost’s poems on his shelf at home and he’s basically been able to memorize all of the works, like-by-line. It may have been one of the reasons why his speech sometimes took on such a poetic life. Similes and metaphors can easily to him and he often was able to create a very lively sentence with ease. He was educated in various other literary works such as the Bible and the Odyssey and could easily understand a reference that was spoken from the novels that were said within the lab. It was usually Zeller who incorrectly match a line to a poet or an author.

He wasn’t a massive fan of art though, but respected the pieces, nonetheless. The colors that were used to create such vivid masterpieces blended together and created an image that seemed all too real to him. The pictures seemed to remind him of the very scenes he saw within his mind on a day-to-day basis. They seemed too real and one could say that he was bothered by them. They might have been right, but he would never confess no matter how many times he was asked.

He was educated in Latin and was able to understand French and Italian, as well as speak the languages, but he wasn’t completely fluent. He could easily get by with a several words and a simple phrase, but he didn’t think he would be able to carry on a whole conversation. He was fluent in Latin though and even though it was said to be a dead language, one would be surprised to see how frequently it was used today. It served as many roots in English words and easily created ties between the other Romance Languages. Maybe that it was made the tongues of the word so elegant. They were all related to each other in some manner and it was truly beautiful to see and hear how certain phrases in different tongues escaped the mouth of others.

Even though Hannibal attempted to reassure him, Will couldn’t help but worry. It was astounding to see how quickly a killer could murder certain people. How could one simply set aside their humanity and resort to gruesome methods of killing another? He understood that certain events in one’s past could easily trigger violence within someone and cause them to react violently. There could be hatred towards certain races of people or genders for a reason that remained all but personal to the murderer. But no crime scene was erased fully of the evidence that a killer left. Will could always find the hidden aspects that were thought to have been buried.

He glanced up at the sound of the phrase with recognition could be seen in his optics before he exhaled deeply. “For God judged it better to bring good out of evil than not permit any evil to exist.” The phrase flowed easily from his mouth and he was able to speak the translation as if he had been rehearsing it for ages. Shifting his eyes to the glass that Hannibal was holding, he gave a gentle nod. Another drink couldn’t hurt and he was fine with accepting the invitation. “Yeah…sure.” Usually, he’d be more cautious when it came to receiving a beverage from another, but he needed to get his mind out of the state that it was currently in.

He slowly approached Lecter with a slow gait and his arms loosely crossed over his chest, but his appearance clearly showcased a high level of irritation about a combination of subjects that he was currently investigating. “This killer is so frustrated with not only himself, but the world around him. It’s like every person he’s able to rest his eyes on, becomes a possible target to his anger.”

dont-be-rude

Hannibal paused, giving the other a rather bright smile. Though was no surprise hidden within, as he was very aware of how intelligent Will was, otherwise the older male wouldn’t find him fascinating. There was a draw, an attraction to those who could verbally spar as easily as Will could. Yes, Hannibal did, in fact, have a type. Even his temporary companions were all intelligent, though not all could be as brazen.

He poured another drink, and turned to hold out the refilled glass. Will was suddenly much closer, something the psychiatrist did not mind, though he wondered how aware of this Will was.

The frustration that rolled off of Will was rather palpable, and Hannibal found himself delighting in it, however minute. “Why do you think he’s acting out of anger? Outside of the necessary force to do the work, of course.” He didn’t move away from the other, not bothering to return to the chair he’d abandoned. Instead he found himself leaning slightly against the wall, letting his arms relax in front of them, one hand collapsing the other’s wrist as he tilted his head to take in Will’s expression.

It was interesting to think of Will’s particular talent, something usually reserved for children or people who grew up in rather unfortunate circumstances. He was aware, at least partially, of Will’s background, though it didn’t account for the talent he was able to retain through his life. To so easily be able to connect with other’s mind’s, to see the very darkness a murderer holds within them, as if he committed the acts as well. There were certain mental scars to be had from said act, and each death, each crime scene he witnessed, only helped to feed his own disconnect and ever-growing abyss.

For all purposes, it was rather perfect for his own intentions. It was a direction Will would fall into eventually, even without Hannibal’s pushing and influence. Though at least in this regard, he could ensure Jack continued to use Will’s talents.

Eventually, it would break the other. But the pieces– how lovely they would be. Though it would be nothing in comparison to what Will would become. Breaking does not necessarily mean something has broken, merely that it has evolved. He was curious to see what Will would become and had every intention to be there to witness it.

“Is that why you’re so angry, Will?” Perhaps this level of empathy was stronger than even Hannibal predicted, or perhaps Will identified more with this one. Hannibal didn’t act out of anger, as anger lead to mistakes. His intentions were of a more simple intention– the matter of value. There was little a rude person could add to the world, but as his own canvas, a piece of art, a beauty could stand in their place. A unique mixture to create something new in the world.

He stepped closer to the other, head turned down in an attempt to capture the other’s eyes (as while Will claimed to have problems looking other’s in the eye, he certainly didn’t seem to have any issues looking at Hannibal’s). “You see the anger within him, and your unique ability allows you to feel it so intimately?” he whispers, as if to suggest the very implication is a secret between the two. And it is intimate knowledge, as knowing another’s mind so thoroughly. Even in his position, where he understands the brain’s function both as a trauma surgeon and as a psychiatrist, he could never truly understand a person as Will does. Only guess, manipulate, persuade; but never fully see their perspective so clearly.

Perhaps that is why Will avoids eyes. He doesn’t wish to see their perspective, yet Will has already seen his on several occasions, though he is unaware of it for the moment.

unstableempathy

Intelligence was what seemed to make the world spin. Without such a trait, the human race would fail to evolve as Mother Nature commanded them to. It also assisted in placing one on the social hierarchy, but Will could careless of where he placed on such a chart. He didn’t believe in rankings that placed people above one another.

Taking the glass with careful fingers, he held it correctly, with the neck of the crystalware. He swirled the liquid before watching it create a small whirlpool before he returned to his thought process. Raising the glass to his lips, he took a tiny sip, holding back a slight grimace as the bitterness washed over his tongue.

He didn’t believe in a figure who deserved the title of God. If there was a such person, then there wouldn’t be this much suffering in the world. If God really did exist, then he wasn’t doing anything to assist this world. It was either that or…a such figure did exist, but was just refusing to do aid anyone because it was inelegant. Beliefs in religions were something that Will lacked and he avoided conflicts that involved such trouble.

“There’s a possibility that he’s lost control of his emotions and are allowing them to suddenly burst from his being. Like a volcano, calmness can only last so long.” Randomness was never expressed within a killer’s actions and there was always a pattern, rather one wanted one or not. Sometimes, these sequences held hidden details that could be the key to solving such a mystery and he seemed to be the only one who could figure out these difficult traits within one’s work.

Anger was clearly laced the doings of this particular murderer’s masterpieces and the tendrils of such a powerful emotion were beginning to infect his mind like a virus. Spreading quickly through his habits and taking hold of the control center that accessed his own emotions. He seemed to be irritated more easily and even Jack had noticed the slight change within his agent’s attitude. However, even when he was suggested that he should step down from the case, Will refused to do such a thing. His determination drove him and pushed him to continue. It was clear that without him, the murderer would never be caught. He would deal with the changes that were happening within him later even if the outcomes were timely to fix.

A mirror could only take so much of a beating before the pressure of the blows became too much. Slowly, shard-by-shard, pieces would fall from him in jagged edges that were sharp enough to cut through diamonds. He would refuse for anyone to aid him in placing himself back together, for he still believed he could do this task on his own. His own shards would bite into his skin as he attempted to replace them, creating cuts that bled crimson and inflicted a soft burn.

“I feel his rage like it’s my own,” He took another sip before exhaling deeply. “Except it’s been maximized, like someone had gathered my wrath into a contanime to and released it all at once.” This particular case was affecting him more than others had been and part of this was a combination of the outcome of the Minnesota Shrike. Will would never be the same after he pulled the killing shots that ended Hobbs’s life.

Eyes were a complicated instrument with a fair amount of positives and negatives. Emotions could be easily showcased within one’s optics and only a skilled mastermind could hide such reflections of the feelings that flickered within their soul. Perspectives could be easily given away by the look in one’s eyes. They were portals to another world that was all but foreign for intruders.

dont-be-rude

It wasn’t quite a possibility, as Will losing control of his emotions and his brief outbursts were apparent even to the doctor. The younger man always had a bit of a spark, a deep whit and sarcasm that made him quite interesting to talk to. One could never be certain if they’d receive an interesting quip, sarcasm, or a mixture of the two while also being entirely honest.

“Are you suggesting you’ve begun your own explosion? The ash before the fire?” He could see it. Even Will’s normally calm demeanor and gestures were becoming rather erratic. Jack was wielding his new weapon far too frequently and would soon push Will into a breakdown if he wasn’t careful.

There were several options he could take advantage of. Many points and suggestions to make, though he wasn’t entirely sure what to start with. Will never reacted how he wished him to, but again that was part of what made the man interesting. The anger and agitation were growing by the second, and his frustration with himself was exacerbating it. Will was becoming unfocused, drowning within his thoughts and Hannibal allowed it for the moment.

He listened as Will admitted the rage felt like his own, only maximized and unable to be contained. “Passion,” he offered. “It will be this man’s downfall. You’re well aware that this will probably be a quick case for you.” It wasn’t his decision whether Will would continue or not. Jack was pushing Will beyond his capabilities, but it was his job to put him back together. In a way.

He made his decision then, stepping ever closer while Will seemed to zone out in thought. Gently, he reached out and put his hand on the younger man’s cheek to draw his attention. “Will?” he asked, concern in his eyes. “I’ve been calling your name for some time. Did you not hear me?” He hadn’t been, though Will didn’t know that. “You were very deep in thought, William. Where were you just now?”

After realizing his hand was still lingering on the other, he pulled it away from the soft warmth of Will’s cheek. With a quick thought, he stepped back as well and put his hands in his pockets. It was crossing the lines of patient and psychiatrist, but William was, on occasion, very vocal on the fact that they were simply friends who talked, whether in his office or not. A grey area, so to speak, and one that Hannibal may be taking advantage of. He needed to be more careful how he pushed with Will, otherwise there was the risk that Will would run.

Besides, the touch was selfish, for his own pleasure, and he wished for Will to decide on his own to instigate that between them instead of himself.

unstableempathy

He relied heavily on his emotions and intelligence to guide him through the world and he knew that his feelings were what made him powerful. They could be used in different situations and even be the fuel for something much darker. He had the potential to be overly sarcastic and he often got into trouble because of it. Jack didn’t take too fondly of his wittiness and scolded him. But Will found no need to fear his supervisor, who had intruded into his mind and demanded for assistance.

His thoughts provided a sanctuary where he could disappear into and block out the world around him. He could easily duck into one of the rooms and have reality be nothing more but a world that he wished to depart from at the time being. It was a perfect escape and he used to find solstice within his mind, but now, his thoughts seemed to be much more sinister. It was as if they adapted the darkness that he felt within him and was slowly attempting to convince him to allow the beast free. Something he couldn’t risk doing.

Departing from the current situation, he found himself walking briskly through the halls of his memory palace. The walls were bare and built of dark brick, which gave the surroundings a much eerier presence. It was home for him and behind every door rested a memory. The darker ones resided deeper within the fortress, locked with chains and locks to keep them safe. However they always seemed to find a way to escape and invade his consciousness. He couldn’t do anything to stop them for they had a mind of their own, which couldn’t be controlled. His nightmares were caused by these wandering scenes and they kept him from sleeping.

The sight of the toad that was extracted from the most recent victim’s throat lingered within his attention. The poor amphibian’s belly was exposed to the world and the limbs were spread out like someone had pinned it up on a dissection board. It’s eyes were dilated and widened in shock. Surely, this creature had no idea what was happening to it until it was too late and it was submerged in a massive wide tube. The toad eventually croaked of astonishment. Price’s words had become nothing but background noise that was drowned out as the empath eyed the deceased animal with a curious glance.

Someone was calling him but he found himself temporarily trapped behind the door the memory’s containment. The terrors would come soon. His imagination would take over and drown him in scenes weren’t even real. He had to escape. But how? The door wasn’t opening.

Blinking, he slowly became aware of everything that was happening around him. He was still standing, but the hand on his cheek was warm and stable against his own skin. He used the sensation to grapple onto and pull himself into the reality that was awaiting him. Exhaling, he eyed the other as he withdrew his hand. “Sorry,” he muttered, unsure of what had just occurred. “I must have zoned out.”

He rubbed his temple, realizing that his brain had begun to hammer against his skull, causing him strong discomfort. At that given moment, Will didn’t chose to make anything of the touch, but he stored it away in the back of his mind to examine later. He took another sip of wine and lowered it before setting it on the small table. “Did you ask me something?”

#unstableempathy #Smiting With Frogs #Story So Far

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