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themissinggenius · 4 years

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Part 2/2

Another conversation was coming, but it was avoided for the time being. Clarice showered in the guest bathroom; earlier, she had tried peering around the house—still mad but a bit embarrassed by the outburst. The door had been put back into place since she showered, and the water had been cleaned off of the floor. Hannibal was nowhere to be found. I really did it this time, she thought. Her body relaxed, and her face softened. She didn’t think it was appropriate to laugh, but the thought still surfaced, prompting a sad smile. I pushed around the violent centerpiece of the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted list. And he just cried. Shithouse mouse. The smirk dissipated as she ruminated further... She had hit him. Being a domestic abuser wasn’t just rude; it was boringly common.

She moved the thoughts about violence to the side and shifted her attention to the cause of the scuffle. I don’t know what he expected. Hannibal knows the depth of my old relationship with Jack, as much as he hated him. He told me to say goodbye to my father, so why not Jack?

Your daddy and Jackie Boy aren’t the same, she reminded herself. At this moment, she was both grateful and resentful that her internal voice of reason was that of her husband. At least it was helping her see his view. Okay, so the relationship isn’t necessarily comparable. But why would he think I wouldn’t come home? Did he really read my intentions so incorrectly?

Clarice laid awake in the guest bedroom for hours.

Hannibal Lecter relies on his intuition; it may just be his most famous attribute. On rare occasion, though, his cunning will fail him. On the day that Jack Crawford died, it most certainly did.

However, he doesn’t know that yet. Instead, he is reclined in repose at the seat of his harpsichord which he does not play. As he is off in one of the ill-visited quarters of the home, Clarice would be unable to hear the notes carrying from her position in the guest room; even so, he does not play. Hannibal gleaned a look of disgust and frustration from her earlier, and thus, he was certain his Starling would take flight by the morning for reasons known but difficult to accept. There is no reason for him to play.

Poised on the bench, he disappeared to his memory palace without struggle. The difficulty came when he walked down the halls, closing each door that had belonged to her. Hannibal contemplated as he walked: There is a certain symmetry to this—an appreciable one. Clarice’s hotheadedness had been a defining feature of hers, whereas he relied on coolness. He chastised himself for his own emotional outburst; it was unlike him to breakdown, and though he had allowed himself to become vulnerable to his wife, with her likely departure, he had to withdraw from all this fragility. He had to shut down. He had to be the ice to meet her violent fire.

Thus, he closed her doors, sealing the emotional ties within each.

Hannibal emerged at the sound of her voice. He had not heard her approaching in nor had he smelled her.

A few paces away from the harpsichord, Clarice stood. Hannibal had been contemplating whether to address her as Clarice (Perhaps too informal at this point...), Agent Starling (But even when she goes back, she won’t be an agent...), or Miss Starling (Ummmm, I don’t like this one very much...) when she interrupted.

“Hannibal,” she started.

“Ah.” He paused but spoke again before she could continue. “I see you’ve finally decided to join me. Had enough tossing and turning up there, or did you come down to use me as your personal punching bag again?”

“No, no. I just think-”

He cut her off again. “You know what I think, Ex-Special Agent Starling?” Oooh. That works, he thought. “Well, actually I wonder. I wonder if that was how Daddy took care o’ Mommy when she wouldn’t shut ‘er yap.” His imitation of her accent—which she had long abandoned—made her flinch. “If Ma didn’t have dinner on the table at five-o-clock, yes siree, she’d be in some kinda trouble. And boy, does Clarice still wanna be like her Daddy! No matter what,” he emphasized with a drawl, “she’s gonna stand by him. It sure do seem that way tuh me!” Hannibal smirked, and his face betrayed no warmth.

The room had felt colder to Clarice when she had walked in. She had expected him to be upset, but she hadn’t expected this. The woman paused and considered the implications: her musings were correct. He really did misread her, and now he was trying to drive her away. Well fuck that.

In their years of marriage, the couple had picked up on a few of each other’s traits. For one, Clarice was not going to allow a bit of intimidation break her. He came close to doing so in Baltimore, but he would not again. She steeled herself, adopting a bit of his icy demeanor.

“No, Hannibal. My father did not hit my mother. I think I would’ve told you by now, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer right away; rather, he just pursed his lips and smiled.

Then, he began: “As you know, I don’t try to predict you because it often proves fruitless.” He looked off before setting his gaze squarely on her. “However, considering these... outbursts of yours and the contempt plain on your face, I have bought you a ticket back to Arlington in time for dear Mr. Crawford’s funeral. For my safety, I will also be leaving, but not to Virginia. I know how much you must miss Jackie; please, give him my regards when you go. Maybe if you scream and pound on his grave hard enough, someone will hear and they’ll finally find you... Three years after you were reported as a missing person.” Lecter’s eyebrows shot up, and he shrugged. “Though I doubt you’ll be reinstated, as you haven’t kept your resume up to date. It will be no problem for you, though, Clarice.” He gave her a kind, patronizing look. “You’re a very smart girl. When you rediscover that the FBI has no use for your intelligence, try showing off your trophies from the firing range. Maybe even tell them about your skills in hand-to-hand combat... I could write you a glowing reference!”

Hannibal was perfectly still in his seat with his wife just beyond him. He waited patiently for her to break. He wanted no end to be left untied when she left. Your turn.

“I see you still try and lick tears after you’ve tired of tasting your own.” Clarice took a slow step toward him. She needed to crack his facade quickly. “Fortunately or unfortunately, I have no intention of moving back to the States. I find that I’m quite happy right here.”

Only she could have noticed the slight twitch of the doctor’s right eye upon this admission. And she did.

Starling inched closer. “Now, about this ‘contempt plain on my face’...” She mirrored his voice and flat expression; her imitation was even better than his had been. “Did ya happen to consider that it’s because you just tried to tear me apart—unsuccessfully, I might add? Let me tell you what I know, Doctor.” She hammed up the formality in her tone. “I know you’re not comfortable feeling worried about another person. I know that you felt vulnerable when I was gone, and I know you didn’t like that.”

She paused, remaining collected. She raised her voice a tad for this last bit. “Lastly, I know that you ASSUMED. And if there is one—just one!—good thing that goddamned Jack Crawford taught me over the years,” she laughed, “it’s that, when you assume, you make an ASS out of U and ME. Trust me, baby, you did just that. And despite what your intuition told you, I’m not going anywhere.”

She did it. The true stoic’s face had broken, and Hannibal the Cannibal sat, dumbfounded. He opened his mouth and then closed it. She continued.

“I’m sorry that you misread my motivations. I spent yesterday reflecting on how I had gotten to this point, and I had come home feeling glad. I was planning on going upstairs to find you, drawing a bath for the both of us, and then dancing later on in the evening. Your assumption got us a bit sidetracked, though.” Looking down at her watch, it was 2am. Holy crap. She focused back on him and noted that he was still unmoving but appeared less rigid than before. The room felt like it had finally warmed up.

Clarice took a last step towards her husband. Now above him, looking down, she said, “I am sincerely sorry for hitting you, Hannibal.”

Finally, he stirred. “Clarice, I have not once so much as laid a finger on you in anger...”

“I know. Ironic, right?”

“I don’t think so.”

His wife smirked at that, and he returned the favor. “No, I guess you wouldn’t. Anyway, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. You know what else won’t happen again?” She held his chin and spoke softly. “You doubting us. I’m with you for the long haul. Where the hell did you even think I was going?”

“Ummmm. To be candid, I’m unsure of what I thought your plan was. I assumeddddd,” he looked up at her teasingly, “that you were leaving because of a change in heart.”

“My, Dr. Lecter, you didn’t have every one of my steps planned out before I could even think of them? What have I done to you?”

“I can now definitively say that you bring out the worst in me.”

Clarice laughed and sat down next to him. “Crying? And worrying?” She was feeling more relaxed, placing her hand on his leg as she started laughing harder. “Why am I not surprised that you consider that to be Hannibal Lecter at his worst?”

Her husband just smiled back at her. She saw his cheeks blush almost imperceptibly, which then prompted a further fit. It wasn’t long before they were both laughing.

“You had better... go back... into that memory palace of yours... and open up my doors ASAP,” Clarice ordered while catching her breath.

“And how did you—?”

“You were sitting on that bench for quite a while before I called out to ya. Try not to forget about me so soon, huh?”

“I wouldn’t even think of it.” Never again, he added silently. “But I must ask... Would I be incorrect in assuming you still want to dance?”

Clarice smiled widely. Hannibal shifted in his seat and began to play.

#fluff+angst=whatever the fuck this is #THE FLUFF IS UNREAL OMG #it went from 100 to 0 so quick #clannibal #Clarice #clarice starling #hannibal #hannibal lecter

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wjldsage · 6 years

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tagged by the amazing @reylynch love u so much

1. coke or pepsi: coke 2. disney or dreamworks: disney 3. coffee or tea: tea (neither if i have to be honest, but ill drink tea if there are biscuits) 4. books or movies: movies 5. windows or mac: mac 6. dc or marvel: marvel 7. x-box or playstation: i dont know askdjalk 8. dragon age or mass effect: idk either 9. night owl or early riser: night owl 10. cards or chess: cards

11. chocolate or vanilla: chocolate 12. vans or converse: i hate both of them, but vans i guess 13. Lavellan, Trevelyan, Cadash, or Adaar: um? 14. fluff or angst: fluff 15. beach or forest: forest 16. dogs or cats: dogs 17. clear skies or rain: rain 18. cooking or eating out: eating out 19. spicy food or mild food: spicy (why am i thinking about sushi now) 20. halloween/samhain or solstice/yule/christmas: christmas

21. would you rather forever be a little too cold or a little too hot: little too cold, im already a little too cold 22. if you could have any superpower, what would it be? telepathy 23. animation or live action: live action 24. paragon or renegade: idk 25. baths or showers: baths 26. team cap or team ironman: team tony, without a doubt 27: fantasy or sci-fi: fantasy 28. do you have three or four favourite quotes, if so what are they:

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past. - the great gatsby (i cant think of others)

29. netflix or youtube: netflix 30. Harry Potter or Percy Jackson: neither?

31. when you feel accomplished: when i finish something uni/school related and when i like one of my edits/paintings 32. star wars or star trek: star trek 33. paperback or hardback: hardback 34. horror or rom-com: rom com 35. tv shows or movies: movies 36. spotify or pandora: neither 37. zootopia or inside out: zootopia 38. favourite book: the great gatsby or brave new world 39. favourite flower: hydrangea 40. what field of study are you in (or aspire to be in): im studying philosophy and i dont know what ill do after uni

41. song lyric you really love?

Paint my kiss across your chest, if you’re the art I’ll be the brush - bad liar, selena gomez

Literally anything by AURORA, but especially: Under the water we can't breathe, under the water we die, under the water there is no one watching, under the water we are alone. So why do we jump in?

Only bad people live to see their likeness set in stone. What does that make me? - Still Sane, Lorde

I never watch the stars there’s so much down here - Yellow Flicker Beat, Lorde

Sky fits heaven so fly it, that's what the prophet said to me. Child fits mother so hold your baby tight, that's what my future could see. Fate fits karma so use it, that's what the wise man said to me. Love fits virtue so hold on to the light, that's what our future will be. - Sky Fits Heaven, Madonna

42. what’s your MBTI type?: intp 43. fave movie: the great gatsby and/or silence of the lambs 44. favourite tv show(s): the office, friends, stranger things, parks and rec, the good place 45. what fictional world is your favourite? marvel universe 46. favourite mythological figure? centaurs or mermaids 47. who’s your all-time favourite fictional character? tony stark, my b o y 48. confetti or glitter? confetti 49. five things you’re grateful for in your life: family, health, friends 50. last ficitonal character you fell in love with? stephen strange 51. If you could have dinner with any 5 people (real or fictional, dead or alive), who would you pick? rdj, madonna, elizabeth i, kant, plato

52. favorite villain: hannibal lecter my question: favorite painting/piece of art?

tags: @tonystarkz @shell-heads @lesbiansassemble @qhostfacers

#tag games

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psyclownsis-a-blog · 7 years

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cyberyond replied to your post

piri i need horror movie recs it's been too long since i saw a good oNE

this ended up becoming Piri’s Ultimate List Of Horror Recs (2017 Version) so i’m putting it under a cut rip

note: this list has trigger warnings but i am operating under the assumption that you are okay with the standard level of explicit sexuality, vulgarity, violence, and gore present in mainstream horror movies

horror

original nightmare on elm street series, but especially 1, 3, 4, 6, and freddy vs. jason (tw for implied pedophilia and explicit child murder, tw for rape in #6)

friday the 13th (original and remake)

honestly all the friday the 13th sequels are A Treasure but if you want The Core Canon watch 1-3

my bloody valentine (original)

psycho (original) and tbh all its sequels (tw for sort-of-kind-of incest vibes)

psycho ii and psycho iv are my favorites because (1) meg tilly is adorable in psycho ii and (2) psycho iv has a harley/norman cameo and nobody can convince me otherwise

child’s play, child’s play 2, bride of chucky, maybe some sequels after that idk i haven’t seen them yet :(

scream franchise

not the mtv scream series

i mean s1 is decent but there are definitely other horror shows that i would recommend more

1-3 are the best, 4 is worth watching if you really like the characters but as a concept the series has p much run its course by then

tw for rape mentions in scream 3

predator

peeping tom

kenneth branagh’s frankenstein (tw for a graphic depiction of death in childbirth)

james whale’s frankenstein

bride of frankenstein

the phantom of the opera (1925)

the phantom of the opera (1989) (tw for a much grosser depiction of the phantom story than the 1925 or 2004 versions; i wanna say all tws are left at implication but i haven’t seen it in a while so i’m not sure)

alien franchise

the wolfman (2010)

darling (tw for rape)

house on haunted hill (original and remake)

final destination franchise

medium raw: night of the wolf (tw for pedophilia and child murder)

the babadook

the final girls [horror comedy]

the shining (tw for implied child abuse)

the cabin in the woods

hellraiser

heathers (tw for eating disorders, suicide, everything high school kids are insensitive assholes about)

from dusk til dawn

an american werewolf in london

the guest

it follows (tw for dubious consent)

nightwatch (tw for implied necrophilia/descriptions of necrophilia, self-mutilation)

re-animator (tw for rape, pedophilia mentions)

carrie (original) (tw for child abuse, religion iconography)

the remake had some interesting like... subtext/imagery but other than that it was pretty *wet fart noise*

the awakening

the craft

the blair witch project

honestly i loved the book of shadows: blair witch 2 bc it kind of parallels the crucible but i can admit that objectively it is Terrible

elvira, mistress of the dark [spooky comedy]*

american mary (tw for rape, (consensual surgical) genital mutilation)

fright night (original and remake)

jaws

halloween franchise

1-5 are the best imo but no matter what skip #3 because it literally has nothing to do with any of the other movies

not the rob zombie remakes, those are awful

let the right one in [swedish (?) film, watch with subtitles]

rosemary’s baby (original)

night of the living dead (original)

28 days later

suspiria

silent hill (tw for child molestation)

crimson peak (tw for incest)

the lost boys

interview with the vampire

the ring

one missed call

the raven (2012)

repo! the genetic opera

teeth (tw for rape, incest, t’s??????? about a girl who has razor-sharp teeth in her vagina and how that coincides with her sexual awakening as a very straight-laced religious person???? so idk like watch it for The Wild Ride if you want but watch at your own discretion)

american psycho (tw for rape, general misogyny)

sweeney todd

speaking from experience, this is much better live, the movie sucked out all the fun and humor that wasn’t literally written into the lyrics, so i recommend watching the original broadway cast on youtube or something

there’s also a 1936 movie but i haven’t seen it so i can’t speak to its quality BUT i would recommend it on the basis of it being made before the musical was created and thus being based more directly on “the string of pearls” novel which is where the sweeney todd urban legend was originally documented

abott and costello meet [insert universal horror monster here] [spooky comedy]

little shop of horrors (original and remake) [spooky comedy]

the last man on earth (1964)

adapted from the same book i am legend (2007) was adapted from but the last man on earth stays much closer to the original book

c. h. u. d.

ghostbusters (1984 and 2016 versions) [spooky comedy]

ghost ship

sick girl (tw for bugs, pregnancy horror)

misery (tw for torture)

puppet master (tw for rape)

the haunting in connecticut

zombieland [horror comedy]**

jurassic park series

lizzie borden took an axe

*spooky comedy: a comedy movie with a spooky premise that i am categorizing with horror movies due to the genre overlap, but that lacks the intense violence, gore, etc. of a horror movie

**horror comedy: a spooky comedy that does not lower the level of violence, gore, etc. that is standard in a horror movie

thrillers

stoker (tw for incest, has a scene in which the protag’s mother verbally abuses her)

m [german film, watch with subtitles] (tw for themes of pedophilia/child molestation/child murder, but it’s worth noting that the whole point of the movie is to condemn and demonize pedophilia)

also one of if not the very first detective movies

nightcrawler (tw for rape)

the vvitch/the witch/however the fuck it’s spelled

rear window (original)

zodiac

hannibal lecter franchise (tw for cannibalism, obviously)-- the silence of the lambs, hannibal, red dragon, manhunter

manhunter is adapted from the same book red dragon is (red dragon) except manhunter was made before anthony hopkins became The Iconic Hannibal Lecter(TM) so it focuses much more on will graham and francis dolarhyde

hannibal rising is worth watching for gaspard ulliel’s performance but the book was much better

the hannibal movie adaptation changed the ending of the hannibal book while still maintaining a really good and really compelling storyline so the book and movie are definitely both highly recommended by me

gone girl

shutter island (tw for asylum horror)

pan’s labyrinth

documentaries

cropsey (documentary on child murders)

urban legends (another documentary, by the same people, talks about how real-life crime affects the american psyche and lives on as urban legends/horror tropes)

the poisoner’s handbook

h. h. holmes

nightmares in red, white, and blue

his name was jason

never sleep again: the elm street legacy

television

bates motel

ahs s1 (tw for... literally everything)

slasher

similar basic premise as ahs, but imo ahs is v exploitative and builds the plot on violence and vice, whereas slasher builds the violence and vice on the plot

supernatural (LISTEN........ LISTEN....................... conceptually it’s the bees knees okay)

penny dreadful (tw for constant explicit sexuality, religious iconography/sacrilege, asylum horror)

criminal minds

bbc broadchurch

bbc river

bbc sherlock but literally only ep. 3.4 “the abominable bride”

rosemary’s baby (2-part made-for-tv movie)

podcasts

the black tapes podcast

small town horror

alice isn’t dead

king falls am [spooky comedy]

limetown

welcome to night vale [spooky comedy]

video games

until dawn

outlast series

#outtajokes.#cyberyond #@ anyone reading this on mobile: I AM SO SORRY #piri's ultimate list of horror recs

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elfnerdherder · 7 years

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The Fault in My Code: Ch. 8

You can read Chapter 8 on Ao3 Here

Chapter 8: Two Baby Blues Pt. 2

Reba Dolarhyde-McClane had rich, sepia brown skin and a smile like a 100-watt bulb. Her matching brown eyes fixed where she heard the voice come from, and if Will hadn’t known better, he’d have sworn she could see right through him. Perhaps, being blind, she saw better than most.

Not enough, though. Not enough to see Francis Dolarhyde.

“He’d always been reclusive at work, but that suited me fine. People sometimes were rude to him, but he was always kind to me, always nice,” she said. She sat in her seat across from Jack and next to Will, hands clasped on her knees. “He never coddled me for being blind the way a lot of people do. He always respected my independence.”

“How long did he go to Dr. Lecter?” Jack asked. Will wasn’t supposed to ask anything, merely observe.

“About six months, and he said he’d gotten better. After Dr. Lecter was imprisoned, he took it pretty hard. He tried another therapist, but that fell through, then he said he’d be okay.” Her teeth bit over her bottom lip. “…I thought everything was okay.”

“What happened the night that he…lost control?”

Tactful, Jack. Will chewed on a hangnail and slumped lower in his chair, watching her. He felt Lecter’s indignation and mild unease like an ill-fitting suit. Four days strong without him. Will liked to pretend that he was doing just fine, like he didn’t wake sporadically and have to run himself to exhaustion on the treadmill at the hotel at 2 AM just to fucking sleep.

“He wanted to be intimate.” She said ‘intimate’ like she’d had to practice the sound of it not feeling so intimate to say in front of strangers. “I sat on the bed, but he left the room, and when he came back, it felt wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Serious. Dark. I asked what was wrong, and I smelled the gasoline…he said he had to. He loved me, but he had to. Then…” She nodded to herself, thinking of the timeline, “then the room went up, and a gunshot. I went to him, but he…his face was…”

She stopped, hands clenched. Will tasted sorrow on the tip of his tongue, followed by a hint of bitterness.

“I got out. I got to the neighbors, and they helped me call the police for a fire truck. It was all gone, though, all of it…” She sighed, composing herself. Reba had the poise of a Michelangelo painting, the grace of an angel. Will envied Dolarhyde’s time spent with her. “I miss him. He was troubled, but he was…he was so sweet. So gentle.”

Will and Jack exchanged a glance, and Will nodded. She wasn’t lying.

“Did he ever mention his eyes changing color, Ms. Dolarhyde-McClane?” Jack asked.

“…His eyes?”

“His eyes were different shades of brown.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, and Will felt the befuddlement, the confusion. That they would bother to tell her, after all this time…

“What’s that mean for me?” she asked.

“We ran a test, and the shades of brown in the left eye correspond to a 92.4% match of the color of your intermediate family members whose eyes are on record due to filing their soulmate eye color,” Will said, speaking up. Reba looked to him, and it pierced him in the chest. “We believe he had a partial soulmate bond with you.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Jack waved a hand sharply in his direction, but Will ignored it. He leaned closer to her, studying the way her lips quivered, her hands fluttering to the necklace at her neck before falling back to her lap. She knew. She knew.

“You knew.”

“…He’s not dead, is he?” she asked, a mere whisper.

“He’s not,” Will said, “but he loved you enough to leave you. He loved you enough that when he started talking about red dragons and you got scared, he let you think he was dead rather than drag you into the mire he’d made for himself.”

“Will,” Jack warned.

“He said he was going to be okay,” Reba suddenly cried, and she covered her mouth with her hand, like she could hold back the words she’d kept to herself for so long. Like a wave cresting the breakers, tears began to fall, and she buried her face in her hands, sobbing soundlessly.

Will leaned back into his chair and stared at the desk leg. His stomach settled a little, now that the truth was out in the air, ugly in its reality. In that moment, Jack both loved and hated him.

Molly called him while he was getting lunch, and he sat outside, picking at a questionably soggy sandwich. Soulmates had half-off prices on Saturdays at the sub shop, but that hadn’t been enough for him to pull one of the contacts from his eyes. For what he’d paid for too much mayo, he wondered idly if he should have just bit the bullet.

“You should have told me, Will,” she said when he picked up. There was as much accusation in her voice as there was worry.

“Maybe,” he agreed. Then, “No, probably not.”

“Have you been to a doctor?”

“Yes,” he lied. Then, “No, no I haven’t.”

“Will,” she admonished. His ears grew hot at the lie, and he chewed morosely on the bread, gritting his teeth against the texture. If that’s how she sounded when he lied about a doctor, he wondered the tone she’d take when he finally showed her his eyes.

What did you do to your eyes, Will?

“I’m fine, Molly.”

“Is he going to try and kill you once he knows who you are?” she asked.

“Maybe,” Will admitted. “I’ll have people on me. SWAT.”

“They’re calling him Red Dragon in the news now, Will. Did he really eat that painting?”

Will laughed and looked up at the sky. Something inside of him was tearing, and he coughed at the shortness of breath. “Yeah, yeah he did.”

Silence. Will listened to her breathe as he chewed his dismally awful sandwich, and he wondered just what she’d say if he begged her to come visit. He thought of Red Dragon seeing her with him, though, and the thought was struck from his mind. He thought of Reba telling them everything she knew, how he’d found the painting one day by coincidence and began obsessing over it. How he’d wake her in the night sometimes, growling into a mirror in the upstairs spare bedroom. Guttural. Animalistic. He loved her, therefore he left her.

“I miss you,” he said, desperate. “You haven’t mentioned the news casters once.”

“Their eyes haven’t changed,” she assured him. “Not since the new guy.”

“Good, good.”

“Do you think about Garrett Jacob Hobbs a lot, now that you’re up there and alone?” she asked.

“I do.” Molly was the only one to be able to get away with asking that, and she knew it. He wondered if Alana had called her.

“I want you to come back down here. Forget what I said about helping people, I’m scared for you, Will.”

“Oh, Molly,” he sighed. “I think it’s too late for that.”

“Fuck Jack Crawford, just come back home. You want to come home, don’t you? Aren’t you already tired of this? You were tired before it even began.”

“My darling Molly,” he murmured to her. “I wish that I could. I really, really do. We’d get the boat and go along the coast, getting fat off of beer and mangos.”

“You hate mangos.”

“I’d eat a thousand mangos if you asked me to,” he vowed.

Another prolonged silence. He thought about Reba crying in Jack Crawford’s office, the stench of despair. She’d mourned Francis Dolaryhyde, but now she feared the Red Dragon like everyone else did. Jack promised to relocate her, that way she’d be safe in case she was the final product of his ‘transformation’. He wondered if in Reba’s dreams, she saw Red Dragon devouring her the same way Will did.

“Please be safe, darling,” she said. She’d never called him that before. Stud, dear, honey-bunches, and sometimes William, but not darling. He didn’t care for it. Too many new names; Red Dragon, darling, dear Will, my Will.

“I told you,” he said, and somehow she knew.

“You did,” she agreed. “You said you’d be different, and god dammit if you weren’t right.”

Will avoided the alcohol cabinet out of a stubborn need. He paced his room that evening, thought about Hannibal, cursed himself. When it began to rain, smeared images of a dark city with occasional bursts of light, he slumped into his chair and stared at the image of the Red Dragon next to The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed in Sun, trying to blend the two together. In the picture of Red Dragon, his cleft pallet was less noticeable due to the turn of his head, like he was used to trying to hide it. He didn’t look at the camera. Whoever had taken the photo, they’d done it against his will.

“I’m trying to see you,” Will said to him glumly. “Beneath the pixels, the blood, the mirrors, the photos, the…textbook analysis. One part of a whole that never finished, and you’re trying to fill in the pieces.

“How’d you talk to Hannibal Lecter in prison? How'd you get past the screening of letters? What’d you say that made him so delighted to pit you against me? Is that it? Is it a competition?”

Red Dragon didn’t say anything in return. Will laid his head on the small desk, staring sideways out of the window as the rain fell, mocking him with its steady pace. He wished he could be so steady. With every flash of light that leapt across the sky, he wished he could be so steady, able to catch the guy and keep the girl in the end.

He got a call early in the morning, a few days later, and he supposed he should get used to running on only a few hours of sleep. Seven days without Hannibal. Seven days with sleepless nights. He glared at the shadows under his eyes, and he resented them, resented the bastard that’d given them to him.

“Dr. Graham, there’s something of urgency that I think you should see here,” Dr. Chilton said. “I’ve already called Jack Crawford, and he’s on his way.”

Will didn’t realize he was wearing the same clothes as the day before until he walked into the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane –Jack’s facial expression made it painfully apparent. He looked down at his plaid shirt, brushed off a few crumbs from an English muffin, and followed Chilton into his office. Still two brown eyes.

“We were doing our cell-to-cell inspections, as we normally do, when Barney found this in Hannibal Lecter’s cell, wadded up inside of a roll of toilet paper.”

On the table, written in a short, neat script, was a letter.

“Is that toilet paper?” Jack asked, eyebrows lifted.

“Yes, very biodegradable from the feel of it. Not ours,” Chilton said with a sniff. He looked from the two-ply and fixed Will with a stare that he avoided. “Someone has been writing your ‘witness’ little love notes, Dr. Graham.”

My dear Dr. Lecter,

I wanted to tell you how happy I am that you’ve taken an interest in me, after all this time. I thought I was nothing more than a blip in your timeline, a mere shadow within the memories you no doubt hold dear from the time when you were free to do as you wished and conquer your small portion of the world.

When I heard from you, I thought, dare I? Of course I dare. It is of no consequence the body in which I am bound to, now, for this shell is not important –what is important is what I am becoming, and that is of greatness. You of all understand the power of transformation.

I keep cutouts of you whenever you are in the press. We have a lot in common, you and I, from our ways to the unfair names they sling at us. They call me Soul Stealer, like a thief in the night rather than a creator. I thought of you seeing such crude attempts at naming, but I know it is of little consequence to you. You who was also slurred in the newspapers, first Chesapeake Ripper, then Hannibal the Cannibal…

Dr. Will Graham interests me. He’s not very handsome, but there is something purposeful about him, even as I held him by the throat. He was not afraid as he looked at me. There was no fear in his eyes as he snarled. Perhaps he is a dragon, too.

How you managed to warn me of his scent on my artistic depiction gave me the time to do as I will; I hold myself indebted. Perhaps one day we will meet, and I will share with you the ways that I am utterly grateful to you.

Though the papers of this letter are insufficient, I thought it best under the circumstances, should you need to eat it. Your own note was on far better cardstock, something smacking of connections beyond your cell. I applaud your grace and wit, even as I learn from and ascend beyond it.

Until then, I remain your,

-Avid Fan

There were places ripped out, small spots where bits had been removed. Will had to resist reaching out to touch it, get a feel for the texture of the paper Red Dragon had so lovingly leaned over. He wondered if the smell of him was still ingrained in the fibers. Probably not.

He could hear him, though. In person, his speech would be slurred, rough. On paper, no matter the quality, his eloquence was far beyond the physical shell he thought himself doomed to.

“He bears screams like a sculptor bears dust from the beaten stone,” Will said quietly.

“What?” Chilton said, a curt burst of noise. Jack waved at him to be quiet, and Will found himself wandering over to the window, rubbing the sleep from his yawning mouth. Hannibal was close. Hannibal was so close, but not close enough. If anything, Red Dragon was closer. He wanted neither one of them close, but he needed both of them to be close.

“Is that what you get from this, Will?” Jack asked.

“Avid fan, indeed,” he muttered, staring out at the early morning. It already looked like midday due to the brightness, and he squinted at the wraparound parking lot at the front entrance. “He knew what Lecter was, even as he saw him for treatment. He knows Lecter relates to him.”

“Lecter reached out to him first,” Jack said.

“He knows we are not the sum of our parts. We are light, dust, spirit, the many parts of a whole that furthers his growth. His transformation.” Will fiddled with the blinds, knotting and re-knotting the pull-string. Red Dragon thought he was a dragon, too. Will noted the fact that he said a dragon, not a great dragon. One of potential many, but he was The, and Will was a.

Chilton opened his mouth, and Jack lifted a hand to silence him, staring at Will. “How’s he going to finish his transformation, Will?” he asked gently.

“Hannibal Lecter would be the final death. Beautiful. Glorious. Like John the Baptist taking a knee when Jesus waded into the water.” Will glanced to an orderly stepping outside to meet someone pulling up. “Did you read it? ‘Even as I learn from and ascend beyond it.’”

“How did he get the correspondence out?” Jack asked.

“Ask Chilton’s orderlies, Jack,” Will said with a snort. He abruptly dropped the pull-string and gave him a wan glance. “Enough money or persuasion, and he’d be able to get whatever letter out wherever he needed it to go.”

Matthew Brown was the easiest catch Will ever had while consulting with the FBI. Under the pressure of Jack, Will, and an indignant Chilton, he cracked and admitted to sending out letters unscreened for not only Lecter, but other inmates, too.

The last one confused him, though, he admitted. Lecter had it sent to the newspaper, Tattler, as a personal ad. It ran just yesterday, he said, an odd request for meeting a single young lady by the name of Molly.

Will Graham had to be held by back by Jack and Chilton both, fist halfway to Matthew Brown’s face before they hauled him out of the room. It took a while for him to realize, pacing the hall, that the ragged, guttural wheezing was coming from him and not the smoking, fiery maw of a dragon.

“Molly, my Molly, please answer the phone. If you get this, call 907-XXX-XXXX immediately. Find a safe space to hide in until they call back and give you further instructions. You know where I put the gun; find it and put one in the chamber, like we practiced. Please tell me you’ve still been practicing.

“I’m so sorry…my Molly, I’m so sorry. I love you.”

They were on a plane to Florida when Jack got a call from one of the guys at HQ. It was a skip code, and a rather decently complicated one at that.

‘Save yourself, kill Molly –Graham’s love,” Jack said. Will paced the length of the jet, turned around, eyed the liquor cabinet. Told himself no.

When they got another call that Molly had crashed a car into the hospital parking lot before falling out of the driver’s seat, unresponsive, he broke down and made himself a strong, strong drink. Three years sober, indeed.

He woke to someone finger-combing the back of his head, mindful of the rather large, ugly scab at the crown. Will lifted his head blearily, and at Molly’s pained, drawn face, pale but very much alive, he grabbed her hand and wept.

“Those aren’t your eyes,” were the first words out of her mouth to him.

“No,” he said hoarsely. She didn’t draw away from him, stuck as she was with a gunshot wound to the shoulder. She let him hold her hand and kiss it, pressing his face to her palm with a need border-lining on desperation.

“What’s underneath those eyes, Will?” she asked him. “What colors am I going to see?”

“One blue,” he said, and he dropped his gaze to the fine lines along her palm. He traced her life line, then the heart line. “The other’s maroon.”

“Do I want to know who it belongs to?”

“No…no, you really, really don’t.”

In his dreams, he took out both of his eyes and tried to crush them, a raging grief that took the breath from him, left him gasping for air that would not come. Before he could destroy them, someone reached out and took them from him. They held regret and sorrow with equal weight, and their kisses tasted like rotting flesh.

Once she was well enough to be moved, Jack had her taken to a safe house with a round-the-clock guard. Will would have thought about going with her, but the need to see Red Dragon dead burned him with such a fury that he didn’t offer to go. The look she gave him, equal parts betrayal and equal parts unease at his mismatched eyes was enough to send him after Jack’s heel like a well-trained dog to the master’s boot. She didn’t tell Jack about his eyes. He didn’t tell her about Hannibal. Thankfully, with her injuries, she didn’t ask.

“I’ve got my best guys on her, Will. Molly’s going to be okay,” he assured him. “She outsmarted the bastard. He tried to get her, and she got away.”

“He outsmarted us,” Will said after a prolonged pause. “Lecter outsmarted us.”

He felt a disquieted, uncertain sort of thing, and he wasn’t sure if it was Lecter’s pain at the distance, or if there was something more to it than that. He relished in the way that his skin burned, the way that he felt small cracks in the shell around him. Every time the pulsing pain faded, then returned, he reminded himself that if he was hurting, Lecter was, too. In the hotel room before they flew back to Baltimore, he drew idle designs with his finger on the table beside a glass of whiskey and his gun, staring for a long, long time. Only the burning need to see Red Dragon dead keeping him from doing something permanently destructive.

Chilton didn’t want to let Will see Hannibal; he said it wasn’t wise, what with the way he’d been able to put people in legitimate danger, even while incarcerated. It wasn’t until Will leaned over the desk at him, contacts burning holes into him, that his stubbornness was quelled and he relented.

“He almost killed Molly,” he said, a low growl. “I’m owed some answers.”

“Perhaps he supposes that one-sided soulmate relations are enough for him to claim you,” Chilton said, leading him towards maximum. He tone was petulant, even as he relented.

Will didn’t reply.

He let Barney set up the partitions and the chair alone, his skin on fire. It’d been three weeks, and the time away burned, blistered, and reeked of bruises that sunk too deep. He reveled in the pain. It was his bedmate, his food and his water. He reveled in the destructive thoughts it lent him, in the bleak way that it made him stare at a wall for minutes that stretched to hours until he realized just how much time had passed, uncaring in the zombie-like manner that it lent him. Molly almost died because of him. Molly almost died because of his games. Molly almost died because of Hannibal-Fucking-Lecter.

“Poor Dr. Graham,” Gideon said. He leaned against the bars of his cell, and if not for the nonchalant swing to his arm that hung, he’d have seemed truly piteous. “Word gets around quick.”

“Does it?”

“Matthew Brown; fired for smuggling contraband inside of these walls and willfully endangering the life of a person,” he said, ticking the acts off on his fingers. “Compromising a current investigation, impeding justice, and accessory to attempted murder. Quite the little naughty blend of illegal behaviors for an orderly of such a prestigious place as this, don’t you think?”

“Do you think so?” Will wondered. “You sound like you’re not surprised.”

“Oh, I’m really, really not, Dr. Graham,” Gideon said. He huffed a short laugh, lip quirking into a smile. “The orderlies here call this row the deadly crazies, but it’s here that they walk, isn’t it? Wouldn’t one of us, with practice, learn to walk as they do? Talk as they do?”

“Do you think he’s like you then?”

“No, he’s far uglier, far less sophisticated.” Abel shook his head, deep in thought. When one came to him, his eyes lightened and he looked back to Will. “I will say, though; he often condescended to have small little chats with Dr. Lecter, much like you do. Whisper on the row is that he’s going to find himself back here, in a uniform like mine rather than a uniform like Barney’s.”

“Justice at its finest,” Will found himself saying.

Gideon liked that. A lot. “Irony, too. I do feel bad for your girlfriend, though.”

“That word got around too?”

“Oh, yes,” he said with a somber nod. “When I was a surgeon, I was informed that I had hands that were just nimble and quick enough to do what other surgeons couldn’t do. If I was at that hospital, I’d have ensured she was taken care of.”

“That’s honestly very kind of you, Dr. Gideon,” said Will. If he’d been at that hospital, Will would have shot him dead.

“I think it’s because you have the ability to be just as rude, just as dismissive to me as the orderlies around here, but you aren’t. You give politeness where politeness is due, Dr. Graham, and I think about things like that.” Gideon smiled, dragged a finger along one of the bars of his cell. “I think about politeness, about who is and isn’t kind, about the people that show kindness even when they don’t have to.”

“The world is nasty enough, I think; me being rude would just add to a problem.”

“The world is nasty enough,” Gideon echoed. “Yes, with people like Matthew Brown lurking about, profiting from your woes, the world is nasty enough. I’m glad there are upstanding individuals like you to offset it.”

“Dr. Graham?”

Will looked over to see Barney hovering by the partitions, like he’d been there for quite some time. Will cleared his throat, looked to Abel, then back to Barney.

“You have business to take care of, I think,” Abel said slyly. He moved away from the bars, settled down on his cot. “Thank you for the chat, Dr. Graham. Thank you for always being kind.”

“Have a good day, Dr. Gideon,” Will found himself saying. He nodded to Barney, resisted the urge to press down on the indignant impatience curdling inside of him.

“He’s awake,” Barney said as Will went to the partitions. Will nodded, already well aware of that.

When Barney left, he walked around the partition and stared at Hannibal, his vision going red.

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