#ch. writings: holden ford

[cultfic]

⎯ @monstroum, dr. lecter : “ you can always talk to me. ”

it's been requested by bureau hierarchy that, for holden to reinstate his position as occasional field agent, he undergoes therapy for the mandatory period of a month ⎯ longer if deemed necessary by his psychiatrist. and here he sits in dr. lecter's tastefully decorated office, hands folded over his lap as if an inexperienced schoolboy facing his tutor despite his years spent analyzing minds himself. ❝  i, uh .. well, i suppose you want to hear about the panic attacks?  ❞ he smoothes his tie, ❝  i'm sorry, this is new to me, i've never been to therapy before.  ❞

[yourbeauties]

deleted scene from ch 16

This is a different version of the scene where Bill confronts the teacher about Holden’s Matchbox car. It’s far inferior to the scene I ended up posting, IMO, but if you are interested in my writing process, maybe you will find it interesting.

Some context:

- When the story was emerging and I knew that I wanted a toy of Holden’s to go missing and for Bill to investigate, I ended up going entirely the wrong route. I thought the principal would take it, because he was a collector of tchotchkes, and then I had to figure out what Holden’s toy would be based on that. So I spent a lot of time learning about Matchbox cars, only to throw most of it out!

- I wrote a very loose outline of the parent-teacher meeting with only the principal and not Mrs. Reid, that featured the things McNarland had collected in his office. He said he displayed them to show his students how to be patient, because the collectables gained value over time? Or something lol?

- I ended up deciding against this plan because a) collectables weren’t as big a field at this point in time, I think, and b) it wasn’t hitting the profiling theme as strongly as I thought it could. I wasn’t connecting how Bill could figure it out, or how he could “interview” the principal. Once I realized that the actual item didn’t matter, and it should just be about the theft itself, the rest fell into place. RIP all that Matchbox car research! Then I went and created Mrs. Reid and the Campus Creep to be mirrors of each other. (I also decided using the principal would be too close to the foot-tickling principal in canon.)

- When I was first outlining this story, I also kicked around the idea of Holden getting bullied by popular jock-types at school. At some point I was going to have him being hazed, and getting himself out of being hurt by offering sexual favours to the bullies. I was looking for a way to keep the sexual acting-out symptom of abuse that we saw in chapter two alive.

- Dealing with bullies at school was kind of stressing me out though, it seemed like a lot of pipe to lay for what was essentially a C-Story. And while I wanted to keep the thread of his sexual acting-out-ness alive, I didn’t want to go too deep on it. So at some point, it shifted to his teacher. Mrs. Reid was going to be a man, and I was going to have an off-screen scene where Mr. Reid asked Holden to stay after class because he had failed a test or something. Holden would panic and try to offer some kind of sexual favour, the way he panicked and touched Bill’s thigh in chapter two. Mr. Reid would shut it down, but NOT report it to anyone— until Holden got lost in DC on Mr. Reid’s watch. Then that would all come out in the parent-teacher meeting.

- However, because the parent-teacher meeting was going to have to cover 1) the book 2) suspension and 3) the Matchbox car, another element just seemed like too much. The consequences of something like that seemed like they’d take over the story, and again, I thought that wouldn’t strike the right tone with Holden’s symptoms of abuse. I’m not sure if I am reaching the right tone at all anyway, but I think less is more.

Anyway, with all that in mind, here is the scene!

—

Bill went to James Monroe to talk to the principal.

“Hey, about Holden,” he started.

“Mr. Tench, I know you’re in a tough situation with him, but policy is policy,” said Mr. McNarland.

Bill shook his head. “It’s not about the suspension. I totally understand. And I wanted to apologize for what happened yesterday, with Holden’s outburst. I was taken aback, and I shouldn’t have let it get so out of control.”

Mr. McNarland blinked. “Well. I appreciate that, Mr. Tench. Thank you.”

“This business with the Matchbox car, though,” said Bill. He coughed, and shifted. “Holden’s been through a lot.”

Mr. McNarland nodded. “I know. He’s not the only child in care that I’ve had as a student. I know it’s a unique challenge.”

“Yeah. It is.” Bill nodded in return, mirroring the principal’s movements. “He doesn’t have a lot of his own possessions. We only recently started giving him an allowance and he doesn’t even seem to know what to do with it. But he had those cars since he was little. They mean more to him than a typical kid’s toys do. And you’re a collector, Mr. McNarland.” He nodded at the display shelf of aging trinkets. “You know how important a kid’s toys can be to begin with.”

Mr. McNarland sighed. “That’s unfortunate. My heart goes out to him. But…” he shrugged. “Screaming at school staff, and his foster parents, and trying to destroy someone else’s property is not the right way to deal with his problems.”

Bill nodded, frowning, trying to look like he was taking in what the principal was saying. “I’m just trying to help him figure it out. Because he’s very organized. It’s not like him to lose things.”

Mr. McNarland sighed and shook his head. “Well… even the most organized kids lose things, Mr. Tench.”

“Yeah,” Bill conceded. “But not Holden. Not really. You don’t live with him. He’s meticulous. More than any adult I know. And if he says he never took those Matchbox cars out of that plastic bag, I believe him.”

Mr. McNarland fiddled with his tie uncomfortably. “I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at here, Mr. Tench.”

Bill leaned forward. Let his face get a little harder. “Holden didn’t lose his Matchbox car at home. And I seriously doubt he would have taken it out at school. Do you think he would have?”

Mr. McNarland frowned. His fingers fiddled with his tie faster.

“You always wear such cute ties?” Bill asked. “The little boats yesterday. Planes today. The Matchbox people make boats and planes, too. But you knew that, didn’t you?”

Mr. McNarland looked taken aback. “Are you… insinuating something?”

“I’m not insinuating shit,” Bill spat. “You know exactly what Holden was talking about when he had his tantrum. And you know that the only time his backpack was out of his sight was when <I>you</I> were searching it.”

“Mr. Tench—”

“You said you knew how hard that particular car was to find. You said <I>Matchbox wasn’t the same after Superfast.</I> Because you knew <I>that’s</I> why they don’t make Holden’s car anymore.” Bill leaned one arm on the principal’s desk. “I wonder if you happen to know how much a late ‘60s, pre-Superfast, brown Ford Cortina with doors that open is worth these days. Probably not a fortune, but at least two or three times what was paid for it, right?”

The principal sputtered indignantly.

“But the trick is to wait,” Bill said, staring McNarland straight in the eye, “for the value to mature.”

McNarland’s lip quivered. He broke the stare, and shook his head rapidly. “Mr. Tench, this is really out of line.”

“Oh, is it?” Bill stood. “You know what I think is out of line? A teacher that doesn’t <I>do anything</I> about a student trying to trade sexual favours with him, and a principal who steals from poor foster kids.”

“Excuse me!” McNarland stood too, trying and failing to match Bill’s height. “If you have an issue with how we’re handling Mr. Reid, you’re welcome to take it up with the school board. But I won’t stand here and let you accuse me of—”

“You’re fucking right I’m gonna take it up with the school board,” said Bill. “Where’s the car, McNarland? Or do you want me to get the Bureau involved, too?”

McNarland laughed in disbelief. “Mr. Tench, you are not the only law enforcement parent who’s tried to pull strings.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m the only law enforcement parent whose foster kid you were dumb enough to steal from. Give it back.”

“I don’t have it,” McNarland said forcefully, hands fisted in his tie, dropping his gaze on the last word.

“Then maybe it’s not just me who goes to the school board,” said Bill. “Maybe I’ll round up all the other law enforcement parents and tell them how Mr. Reid let a kid make sexual passes at him for over two months and nothing was done about it. Maybe I’ll call all the military parents I know, too. I know some Marines who would be thrilled to hear it.”

McNarland huffed. “You think— you think I don’t see bullies like you day in and day out? You think I didn’t grow up with kids like you, who are used to— to making threats to get what they want?”

“Oh, I’m sure you were well acquainted with <I>bullies like me</I> when you were a nerd in high school,” said Bill. “But the difference between <I>us</I>, Mr. McNarland, is that I grew up and got my head out of my ass. While sad twerps like <I>you</I> grew up into the kind of adults who would steal a toy from a child.” He shook his head and turned to leave. “I guess we’re done. You’ll hear from the school board.”

“Wait.” Mr. McNarland’s voice was strained. He shakily opened a drawer and slapped a little Matchbox on the desk. The brown Ford Cortina.

Bill sighed, half disbelieving. “You’re pathetic,” he sneered, taking the Matchbox and slipping it in his pocket.

“Get out of my office,” McNarland snapped.

“Gladly,” said Bill. “You should get started on your resume, Mr. McNarland.”

He stepped out of the principal’s office and closed the door with a shaky sigh. The secretary stared at him, wide-eyed.

“I think I may have made your life a bit harder, Miss. Sorry about that.”

[cultfic]

⎯ @mortange, armand : “ the more you know, the shorter your life will be. ”

in his line of work, special agent holden ford should be used to threats and verbal aggression and yet he can't help the obvious surprise in the raise of his brow, in the freeze of his hand as he plugs his recording machine. ❝  i just want to ask you a few questions. but you don't have to reply if you're not comfortable with any of them, armand.  ❞ good or bad, first name basis always serves to build a rapport with interviewees. he settles himself in his chair, smoothes his tie, rests both elbows upon the table between them and sets bright eyes upon the eerie figure in front. most of the agents who have interviewed him have deemed the man to be impenetrable but holden's somewhat unorthodox methods have been known to pay off.

he presses PLAY on the device and readies himself. ❝  you've been linked with a string of disappearances in various cities all across the globe. dubai, san francisco, new york city, paris .. people disappearing without leaving a trace and bodies found entirely drained of blood.  ❞ he's reading the last words from a file when he looks up with a wrinkled brow. ❝  that's odd, isn't it? each of the victims, drained of blood ..   to what end? ❞

[monstroum]

the corners of his lips curl at holden's willingness to do good ㅤ─ ㅤsadly there was no score when it came to therapy . no grades , no golden stars to be added to his resume ... dr. lecter sat and watched the young agent with what many would mistake for compassion . ㅤ" i want to hear about whatever feels most important to you at this moment . " ㅤhannibal explained . when he spoke again , his voice sounded much firmer than before .

ㅤㅤ" holden . " ㅤthe leather of his chair squeaked as doctor lecter leaned forward . ㅤ" your situation has been made aware to me . i do not care for the opinions or thoughts of those who coerced you into therapy . i care about yours . " ㅤthere was a sharpness to his features which sought to reassure his patient that they were allies . hannibal could not work properly if the people sitting across from him did not trust him . and poor agent ford had been toying with that very same concept during his interviews ... oh , to earn a killer's trust must have been exhilarating to a young man like him . but not everyone could navigate through the debris of broken boundaries . doctor lecter , however ...

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ" would you like to talk about the panic attacks ? "

⎯ @monstroum, dr. lecter : “ you can always talk to me. ”

it's been requested by bureau hierarchy that, for holden to reinstate his position as occasional field agent, he undergoes therapy for the mandatory period of a month ⎯ longer if deemed necessary by his psychiatrist. and here he sits in dr. lecter's tastefully decorated office, hands folded over his lap as if an inexperienced schoolboy facing his tutor despite his years spent analyzing minds himself. ❝  i, uh .. well, i suppose you want to hear about the panic attacks?  ❞ he smoothes his tie, ❝  i'm sorry, this is new to me, i've never been to therapy before.  ❞