#hannibal slow burn

[sad-endings-suck]

There is a certain type of ship dynamic that simply cannot be created or replicated artificially and it’s called “this couple was never meant to be a canon ship but their chemistry is just so incredible we had to do it anyway” and I love it more than anything.

[crimsondinnerparty]

We NEED to talk about that iconic line from Will in Season 1: *‘I don’t find you that interesting.’*

Like, first of all, Will Graham saying this to Hannibal Lecter—the most *charismatic*, *manipulative*, and *dangerous* man alive—is peak irony. Will may think he’s deflecting here, but we all know this is where Hannibal’s obsession really starts to take root. In reality, Will’s avoidance, his subtle ‘I don’t want to engage with you’ is exactly what pulls Hannibal in deeper. Will is a puzzle, and nothing excites Hannibal more than solving complex puzzles with human emotions.

At this point, Will’s already showing signs of mental instability and hyper-empathy, making him a fascinating case study for Hannibal. The tension here is so rich—Will is trying to distance himself from Hannibal, while Hannibal’s like, ‘Yes, please, make it harder for me to know you so I can dissect you piece by piece... emotionally, psychologically, and probably literally.’ 😏💀

Plus, Bryan Fuller confirmed that this is one of the first moments where Hannibal sees Will as a potential companion, not just a curiosity or a patient. He’s intrigued by Will’s resistance and the idea of drawing him closer. It’s classic predatory behavior—Hannibal can’t resist something that doesn’t want him.

Little does Will know, this disinterest is precisely what seals his fate. Hannibal’s curiosity is piqued, and he’s now on a mission to break down Will’s walls. The slow-burn of their relationship is ON.

[n1angi]

Shrouded in Darkness

CHAPTER 2 : AMUSE

previous chapter | next chapter

Will Graham x AFAB character x Hannibal Lecter (Polyamory)

Summary:

In the heart of Baltimore, forensic analyst Sidonie Renard navigates the shadows of crime scenes, concealing her loneliness behind a composed facade. Drawn into a web of intrigue, she captures the attention of profiler Will Graham and the enigmatic Hannibal Lecter.

Word count: 4,5k

Chapter Warning: Murder, Blood, Gore.

The dim sunlight spread across the field, accompanied by the soft chirping of birds. Sidonie tied her short hair into a lazy bun and draped a scarf around her neck as her dog barked with excitement for their morning walk.

“Lucy, easy there, it’s too early for all that,” she mumbled as she opened the door. Her dog bounded out and made its way towards the nearby forest.

Sidonie closed the door behind her, lifting her scarf to shield herself from the chilly morning air. While hugging herself for warmth, she observed her dog trotting ahead, occasionally pausing to investigate a scent.

This routine was familiar to her: a leisurely morning with a cup of tea or coffee, followed by a reluctant shuffle to the shower. She went for a simple breakfast of cereal or toast with jam before embarking on her daily walk with her beloved dog, the one who brought life to the otherwise empty house she lived in.

As she scanned her surroundings, Sidonie noticed her dog standing still, sniffing at something on the ground. Approaching to see what had caught its attention, she tilted her head and furrowed her brow in curiosity.

There, she found a dead crow lying on the ground, its wings spread wide, feathers shimmering in the sunlight. The bird had its head tilted at a peculiar angle, its feathers stained with blood, and its mouth ajar. She pulled her dog away, concerned it might catch something from the carcass.

“Come on, let’s go this way,” she urged. As she clicked her tongue, she guided her companion to go the other way, and they carried on with their walk across the field.

Will stiffly fired the gun, the sound echoing in his ears. Uncomfortably, he fixes his gaze on his target, remaining focused. Garret Jacob Hobbes’s body seems to approach him. Will’s heart races with unease, his eyes meeting the dead stare of his victim. A few knocks on the window jolt Will out of his dream. He glances around, puzzling over the surroundings.

“We’re here,” Jack informs him. Will nods as he adjusts his tousled hair. His deep blue eyes land on the rustic cabin that belonged to Hobbes. As he opens the car door, he follows Jack, examining the many police officers combing the area for evidence.

Both of them put on the gloves provided by the police. Before entering the cabin, they armed themselves with a flashlight.

Inside, Will noticed the dead stag on the table and several animal heads displayed around the room. While observing the scene, Jack’s face shows clear disturbance. Will spots a staircase and ascends, with Jack trailing behind. They enter a room encased in antlers, every surface adorned with them, including the walls, ceiling, and floor.

Will notices dried blood on one of the stags, creating a pool below. Jack’s eyebrows raise further, visibly perturbed.

“Could be a permanent installation in your Evil Minds museum,” Will remarks.

“Well, what we learn from Garret Jacob Hobbs will help us catch the next Garret Jacob Hobbs. There are still seven dead bodies that are accounted for,” Jack responds, scanning the scene with his flashlight.

“Because he ate them.”

“Had to be parts he didn’t eat,” Jack notes.

“Not necessarily.” Will lifts his brows as Jack blinks at his statement.

“What if Hobbs wasn’t eating alone?” Jack suggests. “It’s a lot of work. Disappearing these girls, butchering them, and then not leaving a shred of anything outside of this room.” Will considered his words for a moment.

“Someone he hunted with?”

“Someone in a coma, who happens to also be someone he hunted with,” Jack presses, referring to a conversation they had in the office yesterday.

Will blinks, remembering the young girl who lay in the hospital room whom he saw a few days ago. He sighs deeply, already knowing what Jack implied.

“Abigail Hobbs is a suspect?”

“We’ve been conducting house-to-house interviews around the Hobbs residence and this property,” Jack explains, watching Will closely. “Hobbs and his daughter spent a lot of time together. They spent a lot of time together here. She would be the ideal bait, wouldn’t she?” Will licks his lips, irritated at his words.

“Hobbs killed alone,” Will insists, meeting Jack’s gaze for a moment. Jack chooses not to respond, but he definitely takes notice of what he’s witnessing. Will glances at Jack for a moment before noticing something on the floor. He grabs it. It appears to be a long red hair.

“Someone else was here.”

Sidonie stepped out of the elevator and made her way towards the lab. She wore the same shoes and coat as yesterday, but today she added a cerulean-colored turtleneck with a delicate golden necklace paired with brown slacks. Her hair was already up. When she entered the office, Baverly greeted her.

“Hello there, Hawkeye,”

“Jack told us about the hair,” Jimmy remarked.

“And it’s only your second day,” Brian raised his eyebrows.

“Not as an analyst.” Sidonie clarified as she hung her coat and grabbed her gloves. “I have years of experience.”

“Leave something for us to discover, won’t you?” Beverly nudged him

“There’s always plenty of work, I’m sure you’ll find something.” Brian raised his hands, mumbling about it being just a joke. “Good job, by the way,”

“Thank you.” Sidonie looked at Brian, offering him encouragement. “We've all got our reasons for being here. All of us can bring something useful to the table, so don't let me discourage you.”

“This job pays me well enough not to be discouraged,” Brian retorted as he grabbed the files from the table. “But documenting all of this is the worst,” Sidonie smirked in agreement.

“I agree.”

“I don’t mind it. It’s quite relaxing.” Beverly rolled her eyes.

“Jimmy, don’t lie.”

“I’m not,”

“He is,” Brian whispered to Sidonie, earning a glare from Jimmy.

“You sigh all the time while you do it,” Beverly countered.

“It’s out of pleasure,”

“It doesn’t sound like it,” Brian chimed in, causing Sidonie to chuckle. Jimmy was about to argue back when Jack entered the lab. All eyes turned towards him.

“We’ve got the alibis from the cabin if that’s what interests you,” Jimmy noted, and Sidonie looked at Beverly, puzzled.

“It’s from the previous case. Minnesota Shrike,” Beverly explained, and Sidonie recalled the news that had been all over the place these past few days. Seven missing girls were victims of cannibalization.

“Anything leading to Hobbs's daughter?”

“Nope.” Brian shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Maybe she wasn’t involved after all,” Jimmy suggested, but Jack didn’t seem to like that answer.

“Sidonie, I want you to look at the case.”

“I’m not familiar with the case, so I’m not sure if I’m—”

“Will Graham is giving a lecture about the case in an hour. Get familiar,” he ordered. “I’m sure he will mention the copycat case too.” She cast a quick look around as her colleagues signaled her to go.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she said as she removed her gloves, grabbed her lab coat, and left. Silence fell upon the room.

“And here I thought I would pile her up with documenting the evidence,” Brian commented, and Beverly rolled her eyes.

“And then you dared to complain about not having something to do.”

“Go back to work,” Jack pressed as he turned around to leave. As the door closed, Brian spoke again.

“Jimmy you seemed to enjoy documenting, right?”

Sidonie quietly entered the lecture hall, noting it was already half-full. She found an empty seat near the front and sat down, crossing her arms as she observed the room. Some students were chatting about the case, while others passed around the papers. No one seemed to mind her presence, perhaps because she was wearing her lab coat. As more students arrived, the hall filled up quickly.

After a few minutes, Will Graham walked in, and the students stood up, clapping enthusiastically. Sidonie stayed seated.

“Thank you. Please, stop,” Will gestured for them to quiet down, clearly uncomfortable. He placed his briefcase on the desk and dimmed the lights, bringing up a slide showing Hobbs’ resignation letter. He paused, studying the slide.

“This is how I caught Garret Jacob Hobbs,” he began, capturing everyone's attention. “It’s his resignation letter. Does anybody see the clue?” He scanned the room, but ignored the raised hands, leaning on the table as he continued. “There isn’t one. He wrote a letter, left his phone number… but no address. That’s it.”

Sidonie leaned in slightly, her eyes drawn to the image of Garret Jacob Hobbs’ lifeless body, pierced by ten bullets. She blinked at the number, then glanced back at Will.

“Poor record-keeping and dumb luck,” he sighed, turning back to the slide. He stared for a moment, recalling the image of Abigail Hobbs lying on the floor, her neck cut, struggling to breathe, surrounded by a pool of blood. His hands shook as he tried to stop the bleeding, cradling her head in his lap.

The room fell silent as Sidonie shifted her gaze between Will and the picture. Given his recent arrival at the B.A.U., she pondered the reason for his behavior, like why he fired ten bullets. She guessed it might have been due to adrenaline.

Will looked back, seeming to return to the present, and shifted uncomfortably. He clicked to the next slide, showing a photo of Garret Jacob Hobbs and his daughter Abigail smiling after a hunting trip. Sidonie leaned back, her jaw tightening slightly.

In the photo, Abigail, a young girl with long black hair and blue eyes, appeared happy, a stark contrast to the likely reality of her life.

“Garret Jacob Hobbs is dead. The question is how to stop those his story is going to inspire,” Will remarked, leaning away from the table as he observed the next slide. “He’s already got one admirer.”

Sidonie’s eyes narrowed slightly at the image of the woman posed with the stag’s antlers. It was him.

“The Copycat.”

The lecture progressed slowly, with Will presenting more images related to the case while the students discussed it among themselves.

Sidonie listened attentively, but her thoughts kept returning to the copycat. She understood why Will referred to “The Painter” as careless. This murder was distinct—it felt like an insult. The killer was skilled, likely experienced, meticulous, and astute. The motive behind the girl’s murder remained unclear, aside from the resemblance to Abigail.

“I wonder why her lungs were removed…” a woman murmured behind her.

“Perhaps a tribute to the Shrike,” a man whispered in response, eliciting a disgusted noise from the girl beside him.

When Will announced the end of the lecture, the students began gathering their belongings and heading towards the exit. Sidonie made her way down and approached Will slowly. A student ahead of her attempted to engage with him, but he appeared too eager to depart to acknowledge his surroundings. He shuffled his papers.

“Interesting lecture,” Sidonie remarked, and he glanced up, mildly surprised by the unexpected compliment. His gaze shifted from her lab coat to her face. Recognizing her, he looked away, continuing to sort his papers.

“Um, thank you. I wasn’t expecting to see you… at a lecture.”

“Me neither,” she confessed, slipping her hands into her coat pockets. “I’ve been intrigued by the copycat ever since I learned about the lack of evidence.” Will furrowed his brow, searching for the right response.

“I’m sure the analysts are examining the evidence—the visible ones,” Sidonie nodded, seemingly unaffected by Will's sarcastic remark.

“The copycat isn’t the reason why I’m here, though,” she added. “Jack asked me to dig into the Garret Jacob Hobbs case, see if there's more to uncover.” Will paused, averting his gaze. He tightened his grip on his briefcase, seizing it as he sat up, chuckling softly.

“Tell him there is nothing to find. He is only wasting your time,” his voice was subdued, and his demeanor noticeably shifted. Sidonie blinked at Will's tone as he prepared to leave, but before he could depart, someone intervened.

“Hi, Will.” Will nearly stumbled back against the table. Sidonie looked at the black-haired woman, noticeably shorter than her, with soft blue eyes and a slight smile. She wore a red pencil skirt and a white and black plunging neckline shirt.

“Hi,” he sounded resigned.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” She glanced at Sidonie, offering a small smile, which was out of politeness. Sidonie shook her head, sensing the atmosphere.

“No, um, I was just about to leave. I have to get back to work.” Sidonie waved as she turned to depart.

“Stay,” Jack’s voice echoed through the hall, and the woman glanced back. Jack greeted her, whose name turned out to be Alana. He stood next to her, while Will walked around the table, gathering his files.

“How was the class?”

“They applauded, it was inappropriate,” he said, avoiding eye contact, evidently irritated.

“The review board disagrees. You’re up for a commendation, and they approved your return to active duty,”

“The question is, do you want to go back to the field?” Alana interrupted. Will looked between them, torn between satisfaction and apprehension.

“I want him to go back to the field. And I’ve told the board I’m recommending a psych eval,” Jack responded to Alana instead of Will. Will opened his mouth slightly, a realization dawning on him.

“Are we starting now?” Alana raised her eyebrows.

“Oh, the session wouldn’t be with me.”

“Hannibal Lecter is a better fit. Your relationship isn’t personal. But if you’d be more comfortable with Dr. Bloom…” Will gripped his chair slightly.

“I’m not going to be comfortable with anybody inside my head,” Jack looked away.

“You’ve never killed someone before, Will,” Alana’s tone softened. “It’s a deadly force encounter. It’s a lot to digest.”

“I used to work homicide. I’ve got a good metabolism,” he defended as he began to walk away, only for Jack’s voice to halt him.

“The reason you currently ‘used to’ work homicide is that you couldn’t stomach pulling the trigger. You just pulled the trigger ten times,” Sidonie absorbed that information, recalling the body of Garret Jacob Hobbs.

“So, the Psych Eval isn’t just a formality?” Will’s voice lowered.

“No, it’s so I can sleep at night. I asked to get close to the Hobbs case, and I need to know you didn’t get too close,” Jack’s voice was cold. “How many times have you spent the night in Abigail Hobbs’ hospital room?”

Sidonie blinked at the sudden revelation, slowly understanding where Will stood. Will's emotional nature was a defining aspect of his work, often making him overly empathetic. Jack kept a close eye on him for this reason. However, their differing viewpoints led to a lack of harmony between them.

Will likely felt sympathy for the potential suspect, considering he had killed her father. But without evidence, nobody could make any accusations against Abigail Hobbs, or anyone else for that matter.

The room fell silent for a few moments.

“Therapy doesn’t work on me,” Will said firmly.

“Therapy doesn’t work on you because you won’t let it,” Jack implied, moving closer to him. Sidonie leaned back on the table as Alana sighed.

“Because I know all the tricks,” Will corrected.

“Perhaps you need to un-learn some tricks,”

“Why not have a conversation with Hannibal? He was there. He knows what you went through,” Alana suggested as Will removed his glasses and began to walk away.

“Come on, Will. I need my beauty sleep!” Jack shook his head as he glanced at Sidonie from the corner of his eye. He turned to her. “Did you get familiar with the case?” Sidonie nodded as she stood tall.

“I did.”

“How likely is it that Abigail Hobbs was involved in those crimes?” he asked her, and she remained silent. She glanced at Alana, who also appeared to be interested in her response.

“I am not a profiler, I can’t profile Abigail Hobbs,” she told Jack. “I only came here to get familiar with the case and see if there could be potential evidence or clues.”

“So, are you saying there are none?”

“The house and the cabin mentioned earlier were empty. From the looks of it, there is close to no evidence that points to Abigail,” Jack crossed his arms at the answer. “For now, I can’t offer much insight on the case.”

“She’s right, Jack,” Alana told him. “Until Abigail wakes up, we need to be patient.”

“Until she wakes up.”

“Don’t push it,” Alana advised. “And talk to Hannibal.”

“I will.”

Will peruses the books neatly arranged in Hannibal’s mezzanine. He wasn’t entirely certain why he had come here. Perhaps he was genuinely considering Alana’s advice. Hannibal had been present when he killed Garett Jacob Hobbs, the only one he could confide in.

However, Will didn’t view this as therapy, nor did he consider Hannibal a friend. Their connection was based on sharing a traumatic event, at best. Friendship? Certainly not.

Hannibal's gaze flickers over Will's contemplative posture, a subtle smile playing on his lips as he retrieves a paper from the file, drawing Will's attention.

“What's this?”

“Your psychological evaluation. You’re totally functional and more or less sane. Well done.” Hannibal remarks, prompting a subtle furrow of Will's brow.

“Did you rubber-stamp me?”

“Jack Crawford may lay his weary head to rest knowing he didn't break you and our conversation can proceed unobstructed by paperwork,” Hannibal clarifies as Will paces along the mezzanine, his hands slipping into his pockets. Hannibal's eyes track his movement.

“Jack thinks I need therapy.”

“What you need is a way out of dark places when Jack sends you there,” Will falls silent for a moment, the straightforwardness of Hannibal's response igniting something within him.

“Last time he sent me into a dark place I brought something back,”

“A surrogate daughter?” Will remains silent. Hannibal scans the book on his desk, his tone taking on a slightly lighter note. “You saved Abigail Hobbs' life. You also orphaned her. It comes with certain emotional obligations, regardless of empathy disorders.”

“You were there. You saved her life, too. Do you feel obligated?”

“Yes,” Hannibal's voice is firm. “I feel a staggering amount of obligation. i feel responsibility.” Will gazes at him, listening intently. “I've fantasized about scenarios where my actions may have allowed a different fate for Abigail Hobbs.”

Will nods, recognizing his feelings mirrored in Hannibal's words. He bites his cheek.

“Jack thinks Abigail Hobbs might've helped her dad kill those girls,”.

“How does that make you feel?” Will almost rolls his eyes at the predictable therapist question. He arches his brows at Hannibal.

“How does it make you feel?”

“I find it vulgar.”

“Me, too,” Will quickly agrees.

“And entirely possible,” Hannibal adds.

“It's not what happened. Yet he is persistent,” Will recalls the events of the morning. He knew Sidonie wasn't part of Jack's agenda, yet her sudden involvement still irked him.

Was Jack trying to push him further by sending people to plant ideas in his head? Making him doubt Abigail's innocence? Will refused to entertain the thought.

“Jack will ask her when she wakes up or he'll have one of us ask her,” Hannibal suggests. Will furrows his brow.

“Is this therapy or a support group?” Hannibal's face twitches upward slightly, finding Will's comment amusing.

“It's whatever you need it to be,” he reassures. “and Will. The mirrors in your mind can reflect the best of yourself and not the worst of someone else.”

Sidonie packed the equipment into the bag and took a deep breath. It had been a few years since she last worked in the field. She felt a mix of nerves and excitement about what she was about to witness. Putting the camera, kits, and measurement equipment into the bag, she glanced at Brian and Jimmy, who were also getting ready. Looking around, she felt a bit puzzled.

“Where's Beverly?”

“She went to fetch Graham,” Brian's voice carried a hint of frustration, eyebrows raised. Sidonie nodded, noting his tone.

“I'm ready,” she announced, closing her bag.

“We're all set,” Jimmy smiled as Beverly entered the room, with Will trailing behind her.

“All right, the car's ready. Have you packed everything?” Beverly asked, and they nodded. She glanced at Sidonie, winking at her. “Are you excited?”

Sidonie stared. Jimmy and Brian looked at Beverly with a questioning look, while Will just slightly looked their way. The question was odd on its own.

“You have no idea,” she smiled slightly, feeling warm in her chest.

When they arrived at Elk Neck State Forest, they were the first ones to step into the area. Four of them gazed at the bodies unearthed from the ground. In each of the nine bodies, one hand was visibly out, connected to a tube, with mushrooms growing out of them. Some bodies seemed more decayed than others.

“Wow…” Brian snapped a photo.

Sidonie stared, then glanced at Beverly. Beverly nodded in reassurance, prompting Sidonie to take out her equipment as well. Jimmy and Brian began taking pictures while Sidonie and Beverly focused on gathering physical evidence. They retrieved extra gloves, tweezers, kits, and swabs, and got to work.

After nearly two hours, they finished their work.

Beverly peeled back the ripped skin from the victims as she examined the teeth, looking disgusted. She glanced at Sidonie, who was observing the victim's nails.

“I doubt I’ll be able to eat after this,” Beverly muttered. “Especially mushrooms.” Sidonie remained silent, her attention still on the victim. Beverly looked back at the approaching figures. Will and Jack stepped onto the crime scene. Beverly tapped Sidonie’s shoulder, causing her to jolt. She noticed Jack and Will approaching.

“Seven bodies, various stages of decay, as you can see, all very well fertilized,” Jimmy reported to them.

Sidonie reached into a grave containing a partially uncovered, fungus-ravaged corpse, its eyes, nose, and mouth covered in duct tape, its palms filled with black soil.

“He buried them in a high-nutrient compost. He was enthusiastically encouraging decomposition. A patient way to dispose of a body,” Beverly remarked.

“They were buried alive. Whoever it was, they wanted to keep them that stuck there. At least for a little while,” Sidonie spoke up, standing next to Beverly.

“Line and rebar were to administer intravenous fluids after burial. He was feeding them something,”

“No restraints?” Will asked.

“Just dirt,” Jimmy responded.

Beverly pointed at the other end of the air supply system.

“The other end of the air supply system comes up over there. It isn't a very considerate clean air solution, which clearly wasn't a priority. Because he's not lazy,” Will reflected.

“No, he's not.”.

“Let's clear the scene,” Jack instructed all four of them. As they stepped over the scene, Will lingered. Sidonie glanced at him.

“Did you find any shiitakes?” Beverly asked her as Sidonie raised a brow.

“Isn’t he coming?”

“That’s his preference,” Sidonie nods acknowledging the information. As they move away from the scene, she pauses and looks back at him, observing with curiosity. Beverly stops walking, watching Will from a distance with a knowing expression.

Sidonie observes him as he walks around the grave, stopping as he starts to speak to himself. She can’t hear what he says, but his expression is stoic, yet entranced. He gets closer to the ground and sits down, still murmuring to himself.

Sidonie’s crosses her arms, taking in the sign.

Will's empathy was a double-edged sword. While it allowed him to understand complex minds, it also took its toll on him, keeping him distant from others. But what intrigued her most was whether he could truly relate to those he empathized with. Was it his imagination, cognitive functions, or something deeper?

Observing the scene was captivating, yet she sensed a subtle flutter of unease. He pauses for a moment, his expression shifting. Suddenly, the supposed corpse grabs Will’s hand, and he jolts back to reality with a slight shout.

The victim breathes in harshly as Beverly calls for an EMT. 

Sidonie steps into the scene along with the others, checking the victim's pulse.

“Don’t touch him!” Zeller shouts at Will as the man stands up, leaning against a tree far away. His face is pale. As the EMT arrives, Sidonie clears the way, looking at Will. His whole body is shaking.

Glancing around, she notices that no one seems to be acknowledging his state. Contemplating whether to approach him, she briefly considers her options before making a decision.

“Are you okay?” her voice is calm. He looks at her for a moment, swallowing. His eyes narrow, and he moves away. It's a sign he doesn’t want to be disturbed. 

Her eyes follow him. As she turns around, her gaze catches a familiar figure on the other side of the police. A red-haired journalist, disguised as one of the victim's mothers.

Sidonie stares at her, and the woman seems pleased with what she sees. Her blue eyes are filled with intrigue, almost sparkling.

“Looks like you got a live one,” red-haired tells the policeman next to her.

Sidonie decided to leave the office ahead of schedule today after completing her tasks earlier than expected.

Seeing Freddie Lounds at the scene so soon after leaving law enforcement was annoying. She knew Lounds had a knack for meddling where she didn't belong, stirring up trouble with her pointless chatter. It was just another irritating encounter she could do without.

“Hawkeye?” Beverly's voice brought her back to reality, causing her to blink repeatedly. She looked at the black-haired woman next to her, relaxing her jaw. Beverly gave her a knowing look. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay. Why are you asking?”

“You seem a bit off since the case,”  Beverly noted as Sidonie glanced down, silent for a moment.

“I guess the victim... caught me off guard.”

“Yeah, I understand... It's been a while, after all,” Silence fell over them for a few moments.

“I should head out. My dog needs to be fed,” Sidonie grabbed her coat as Beverly nodded in understanding, stepping back slightly.

“See you tomorrow then.”

Returning home, she received a warm welcome from her excited dog. Stooping down, it showered her face with affectionate licks. Sidonie grinned at the gesture, patting its head lovingly.

After slipping off her shoes, she headed to the kitchen to prepare some tea. While filling the kettle with water, she glanced out the window. The night was falling, painting the sky in shades of dark blue.

A sudden movement outside caught her attention, drawing her gaze to a tree branch. There perched an owl, its sizable form blending into the shadows. Sidonie squinted, leaning closer. It seemed strange; despite living so close to the forest, she rarely spotted owls.

Suddenly, as if sensing her presence, the owl locked eyes with her, its yellow eyes fixed on her. They locked gazes for a moment before the owl hooted and flew away.

[itolerate]

shows where two guys are just emotionally edging each other for an hour at a time>>>

[the-rad-pineapple]

la douleur exquise

ao3

Will’s fallen in love. With an artist. It’s a terribly dangerous and stupid thing to do, and it’s ruined his life entirely. Will can pick out his artist’s work among his peers’ with ease. No one else can. Otherwise his artist would be caught. Imprisoned. Where he’d never be able to make another beautiful work again. That would be the ultimate tragedy. More tragic than the method Will’s artist uses to create his art. 

Because that is the catch, isn’t it? Creating art out of murder. Murdering to create art. Will wonders which of those his artist did first. Murder or art. 

Or, Will knows Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper and is completely in love with him, but he's convinced himself Hannibal will never reciprocate his love.

update post about this fic

[pastelwell]

Hiiii ✨

Hinterland is now complete 🦊🌲 I can’t even believe it’s all over! Thank you to everyone who has read it and enjoyed it and left me a gorgeous comment. I’m so grateful 💜 now I have to decide what to write next!

You can read Chapter 6 here :)

If you haven’t read it yet, but would like to, here is the link from the beginning and here is a random preview:

~

“Are you familiar with the concept of original sin?” Hannibal says softly behind him, and Will wants to laugh. He had known as soon as he’d brought it up that Hannibal would latch onto this random little thought and try to exploit it for his own gratification. Will is fully aware that he’s been manipulated, toyed with, coerced, but for some reason he doesn’t seem to care.

“Familiar enough,” Will says, eyes slowly opening again. He calmly searches for landmarks in the room to ground him. Paperweights, books, fountain pens, armchairs, building a list to occupy his mind.

“Were you taught about it in school?”

“I can’t recall.”

“Perhaps your father attended a church—“

“What point are you attempting to make…”

He can’t see it or hear it, but somehow he can feel Hannibal’s smile, the one that he wears when Will isn’t looking.

“It is the belief that humans inherit a tainted nature from birth. We are predisposed to sin because we are born sinners.”

Will licks his lips. His skin feels tight and hot. He realises that at some point he titled his head, no more than a fraction, but enough to draw Hannibal in. His nose is close to the shell of his ear now, tracing it gently. He can’t be any more than a centimetre away from pressing his chest against Will’s spine — he can feel the heat of him through his clothes.

“Inheritance does not condemn,” Will says, “There‘s always room for resistance. Even redemption. Or so I was told.”

“Resistance or abstinence?” Hannibal asks, dripping with intent.

“Resistance through abstinence,” Will says, clenching his jaw when Hannibal drifts in closer and closes the gap between them, hands gently resting on Will’s hips.

“Priests and theologians have often equated original sin with concupiscence. Hurtful desire. An ardent longing. The tendency of humanity to misuse the natural survival needs of the physical body.”

“Nothing is inevitable,” Will says weakly as his eyes close again.

“Everything is inevitable,” Hannibal counters, his voice close and tempting as Will turns his head, not much, but enough for Hannibal’s mouth to find the shelf of his cheek, “Everything.”

[hamlettheedane]

chapter 4 of island of dolls (my hannigram fic where they move to cuba, adopt a puppy and try to keep their hands off each other and fail miserably) is UP

[part-time-zombie]

[zer0expektation]

there is,, no fucking way I'm 29 chapters into a 33 chapter ongoing fic that is already 230k words AND THE AUTHOR SAID WE'RE "ALMOST HALFWAY THROUGH" ????? HOW THE FUCK

[creepazoid69000]

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Hannibal (TV), Charlie Countryman (2013), Adam (2009), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, Spacedogs - Fandom Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Nigel (Charlie Countryman)/Adam Raki, Bella Crawford/Jack Crawford, Darko (Charlie Countryman)/Beverly Katz, Darko's Parents (OCs) Characters: Adam Raki, Nigel (Charlie Countryman), Beverly Katz, Elizabeth Buchwald, Hannibal Lecter, Darko (Charlie Countryman), Mischa Lecter, Abigail Hobbs, Harlan Keyes, Franklyn Froideveaux, Bedelia Du Maurier, Dr. Frederick Chilton, Original Lecter Character(s) Additional Tags: Misunderstandings, RIP Adam, slowburn, Rom-com, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Almost Kiss, crackship, Crack Treated Seriously, characters are very OOC, Inspired By While You Were Sleeping (1995), Implied Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter - Freeform, that happens at the end tho so unimportant, this is not a hannigram fic, its spacedogs, Hannibal Extended Universe, My First Fanfic Summary:

A fic inspired by the 1995 movie 'While You Were Sleeping' where Adam Raki is a ticket booth operator and develops a semi-crush on a handsome stranger he sees during his shift. He would very much like to have a conversation with him, but the idea itself is extremely intimidating. Fate, however, has extremely distinct plans for our dear Adam and it involves a whole lot of misunderstandings...rip.

[superiorkenshi]

If I see another tiktok putting Azirphale/Crowley or Hannibal/Will in the queerbaiting ship category I'm going to kill everyone and then myself I swear

[hauntedandmurdered]

Vanitas – A Hannibal Lecter & Clarice Starling fanfiction

Witness them sharing an adorable moment in twosomeness. To be fair, it took them quite a while for this step. But keep in mind I promised you slow-burn...🔥🔥🔥

[crimsondinnerparty]

"Hannigram? More like the Slowest Slow-burn of All Time"

This ship isn’t just slow burn. It’s a molten lava burn. By the time these two admitted their feelings, I was closer to finding Atlantis than they were to finding each other!!!

[n1angi]

Shrouded in Darkness

CHAPTER 3 : BOUCHE

previous chapter | next chapter

Will Graham x AFAB character x Hannibal Lecter (Polyamory)

Summary:

In the heart of Baltimore, forensic analyst Sidonie Renard navigates the shadows of crime scenes, concealing her loneliness behind a composed facade. Drawn into a web of intrigue, she captures the attention of profiler Will Graham and the enigmatic Hannibal Lecter.

Word count: 3,9k

Chapter Warning: Murder, Blood, Gore.

The following day arrived, and the routine remained unchanged. They examined the found evidence and documented it together.

It was a peaceful day, thankfully devoid of any new murders. The four of them split into pairs to examine the bodies.

The lab door creaked open, revealing Will Graham with a cup of coffee in hand. He approached Brian and Jimmy, observing the corpse. Will donned gloves and joined them.

“What were they soaking in?”

“A highly concentrated mixture of hardwoods, shredded newspaper, and pig poop. Perfect for growing mushrooms and other fungi,” Jimmy explained, as Brian pointed at the kidney.

“It wasn't the mushrooms though. They all died of kidney failure,”

“Dextrose in all the catheters. He probably used some kind of dialysis or peristaltic to pump fluids after the circulatory systems broke down,” Beverly suggested, moving closer to the group. Will glanced briefly at Sidonie, who seemed to be engrossed in her work.

“Force-feeding them sugar water,” he concluded, turning back to Beverly.

“You know who loves sugar water? Mushrooms. They crave it” Jimmy chimed in.

“Recovering alcoholics crave sugar. Uh, don’t take that personally,” Brian teased Jimmy, prompting a smile from Beverly.

“I'm not recovering,” Jimmy retorted with a smirk.

“But alcoholics aren't the only ones with compromised endocrine systems.” Will mumbled as his expression shifted into a realization. “They all died of kidney failure? Death by diabetic ketoacidosis?”

Beverly to raise an eyebrow at Brian.

“Did you know they were diabetics?” she inquired.

“We don't know.”

“No, they are all diabetics,” Will confirmed, shaking his head. “He induces a coma and puts them in the ground,” Beverly couldn't help but smile at his deduction.

“How is he inducing diabetic comas?”

“Changes their medication. He's a doctor or a pharmacist or works somewhere in medical services,”

“He buries them, feeds them sugar to keep them alive long enough for the circulatory systems to soak it up,” Beverly summarized.

“So he can feed the mushrooms,” Jimmy added.

“We dug up his mushroom garden,” Brian lamented.

“He'll want to grow a new one,” Will remarked before leaving the room to inform Jack about their discovery.

Sidonie gently pulled a red hair from the corpse, recognizing it immediately.

“What's that?” Beverly asked, taking a step towards Sidonie.

“Freddie Lounse,” she replied, storing the hair in a small container. Brian glanced up at the name.

“How did she get there before us?” Beverly wondered, looking around.

“She has her ways…" Sidonie shrugged. “It’s a surprise she hasn’t been caught for contaminating the crime scene. It’s not like she hasn’t done this before.”

“Wait...” Jimmy stepped closer, examining the hair. “Doesn’t it look like the one found in Minnesota?” Everyone turned to him. Beverly groaned slightly.

“She was there too.”

Brian stayed silent, listening to the conversation unfold.

“Should we inform Jack, or...?” Jimmy wondered aloud.

“It will be wise to report it,” Sidonie suggested, her gaze returning to the corpse. A suspicion crossed her mind. “Maybe there's someone in B.A.U. leaking information. How else would she know about the locations?”

“You are right.” Beverly nodded. “It’s best if Jack knows.”

Jack Crawford and Will Graham, accompanied by other agents, approach the serene-looking pharmacy. Jack briefs Will.

“She's the chain’s 10th diabetic customer to disappear after filling a prescription for insulin, second from disappear from this exact location.”

“The other eight.”

“All over the county. One pharmacist has been all over the county, too,” Jack replies.

“A floater, huh?”

“Floater's floating right there. Still logged into his workstation,” Jack remarks, as the armed agents approach the pharmacy counter. Upon noticing the FBI agents, individuals raise their hands. Some of them kneel, others lean against the wall.

Jack displays his badge and announces loudly.

“Everyone. Stop what you're doing and put your hands in the air.” Will stands behind him as the pharmacists comply.

“Special Agent Jack Crawford. Which one of you is Eldon Stammets?” The pharmacist glances at his colleague beside him, looking puzzled.

“Eldon was just here. Just now,”

“His car still in the parking lot?” Will asks. The pharmacist falls silent, and Jack raises his voice, insisting.

“His car!”

Beverly and Sidonie arrive at the pharmacy, announcing their intention to review the documents and potential evidence. Brian begins examining the medicines while Jimmy and Sidonie focus on the prescriptions nearby.

Beverly checks the computer, her eyes scanning the screen until she notices something familiar recently accessed. Opening it, she discovers an article, causing her eyes to widen.

“Jimmy,” she calls out, gesturing to the screen as he approaches. He reads the title.

“I’ll go and get Jack.”

“What’s the matter?” Brian asks curiously.

“It's Freddie Lounse,” Beverly informs. Sidonie's attention is piqued upon hearing the name. Brian reads the article title. His eyes slowly look up at Sidonie.

“It’s about Will Graham and… you.”

“What?” Sidonie's brows knit together, blinking. She approaches the computer, standing between the others as she reads the article.

The headline reads, “EXCLUSIVE: 'MATCH MADE IN HELL,”. Beneath it, she comes across a picture of her where she tries to approach Will.

She continues reading about what Freddie wrote about him. The article portrays the FBI as paying a psychopath to catch another, essentially painting them as one of them.

“The esteemed profiler seems to have found himself a fitting counterpart, who is, not so surprisingly, the daughter of a murderer. What a charming pair, don't you think? After all, why else would she choose such a career path? Her knack for murder runs in the family!

Oh, but let's not forget her delightful habit of falsely accusing her colleagues, leading to their unfortunate job losses. Such dedication to spreading chaos surely speaks volumes about her upbringing. Is this how she channels her impulses? By wreaking havoc and ruining lives for sheer entertainment? Just ask her former coworkers who fell victim to her blame game, leaving them out of a job. Looks like her idea of therapy involves a little collateral damage. Daddy issues, anyone?”

Jack and Will approach them.

“Freddie Lounse,” Brian speaks hesitantly. Sidonie takes a step back from the computer. Her expression shows a hint of a frown, but she quickly smoothens it, maintaining a composed demeanor.

Beverly informs Jack she can’t read it out loud because it goes into detail, so Jack reads it quietly. Will does the same. As Jack finishes, he curses.

“Son-of-a-bitch,” he mumbles. Silence falls upon the group.

Will looks at Sidonie, curious about her reaction to the article.

Without a complete understanding of her history and actions, likely exaggerated due to Freddie Lounse's article, the potential parallels between Sidonie and Abigail Hobbs provided a faint sense of comfort.

Jack hadn't factored in Sidonie's past, but regardless of this Will couldn’t help but relax slightly at the thought of her hastily judging Abigail.

Sidonie sensed Will's gaze on her. Looking at him, their eyes locked. His deep blue hues met her olive green ones for the first time.

A wave of anxiety and discomfort washed over her. Quickly averting her gaze, she excused herself, stepping back to catch some fresh air.

Hannibal sat at his desk, his posture upright but his gaze downcast as he read a recent article by Freddie Lounds. His attention lingered on the image of the unfamiliar woman depicted in the article.

After reading it through, he closed the page with a slight shake of his head.

“You are naughty Miss Lounds.”

Sidonie sat at the table, pen in hand, diligently jotting down the evidence they had gathered from the pharmacy earlier that evening. Her gaze drifted over the paper as she wrote, though her mind wandered elsewhere, causing her to shift in her seat and blink, trying to refocus.

With a firm grip on the pen, she clenched her jaw slightly, meticulously labeling the evidence and noting its details, such as location, custody, and packaging.

As she glanced at one of the photos of the evidence, memories of Will Graham's acknowledging look after reading the article flooded her mind, eliciting a sense of irritation.

She disliked the sudden attention drawn to her past, especially due to Freddie Lounse's article. It seemed history was repeating itself, and she found the notion unsettling.

The door creaked open, and Jack Crawford entered the dimly lit lab, the sound of his footsteps echoing.

Sidonie's eyes darted to him, surprised by his sudden presence, which put her on edge.

“Agent Crawford.”

“I took care of Freddie Lounse. The article has been removed,” he informed her, prompting Sidonie to relax her shoulders slightly, unaware of how tense she had been. “I ensured she won't write about you again.”

“Thank you,” she replied, though her gratitude was tinged with doubt.

“She confessed she was in Minessoda.” Jack continued, recalling the earlier report the team gave him on the case. Sidonie nodded as silence loomed over the room.

“I assume you've had dealings with her before?” Jack inquired, prompting Sidonie to sign, as she crossed her arms.

“Unfortunately,” Jack mirrored her posture, prompting for more information. “She wrote an article about me, back when I worked in law enforcement.”

“And when was this?”

“A few years ago,” Sidonie replied, her tone curt. “After I reported some of my coworkers for misconduct, including breaking protocols and involvement in drug-related offenses. Agent Lawson ensured everything was documented. You can check if you are curious.”

“You sure do have a knack for reasoning everything with evidence,” Jack remarked with a lighter tone.

She chuckled softly, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

“It just comes naturally to me, I guess,”

“I'm not questioning you. I trust Harold's judgment of you. That's why you're here,” Jack assured her.

Her former boss had always spoken highly of her, acknowledging her hard work, and she was grateful for the recognition.

“However, I don’t get one thing. Why would they speak ill of you?” Jack inquired, taking a step closer.

“Because it's easier to shift blame onto someone else for your own mistakes,” she replied, meeting Jack's gaze. “Especially someone with a background.”

Jack's expression tightened slightly, a hint of discomfort flickering across his features.

“Did they know?”

“When you're looking for someone to blame, you'll dig up anything you can find.”

A heavy silence settled over the room as Jack nodded, his eyebrows raised in understanding.

Sidonie turned to her notebook, her handwriting from earlier appearing shaky as she glanced at it.

“I'd like to ask you a favor.” Jack began, catching her attention. She had a suspicion of what he might be hinting at after their conversation. “You and Abigail Hobbs share some, overlapping aspects in your past. I want you to talk to her,” he requested.

Bingo.

“You have Will Graham, a man with an empathic mind who can understand anyone. I'm sure he can determine if Abigail Hobbs was involved in her father's actions,” Sidonie reasoned.

“Convincing him to see things differently is a challenge. You've seen it yourself,” Jack responded, causing Sidonie to lean back on the table, feeling hesitant about the idea.

“Why do you doubt Will Graham?”

“I doubt his judgment regarding Hobbs's daughter, not him. Guilt can cloud anyone.”

Sidonie looked away slightly, acknowledging the truth in his words. Guilt was indeed a powerful blinder.

“According to the regulations, Abigail should have a psychologist,” Sidonie pointed out.

“She will.”

“Agent Crawford It’s beyond my duties to accept such a request. A psychologist should be able to figure out if she's hiding something.”

“Would you have more faith in someone who has experienced similar circumstances or someone attempting to understand them? Or are you perhaps also convinced that she is innocent? Is this something personal Agent Renard?” Jack countered, raising his eyebrows and inclining his head slightly.

Sidonie stared at him for a moment, aware of the implication.

Despite her irritation at Jack's request, she knew better than to let her emotions cloud her judgment, especially when dealing with someone in authority. She sighed deeply.

“I'm certain Will Graham won't be pleased with this plan.”

“I'll talk to him. Or I'll get Hannibal to do it.”

Sidonie shook her head slightly, as she turned around. She had deduced that Hannibal was a psychiatrist who had been present at Hobbs's death with Will.

The idea of an unknown presence unsettled her.

“I doubt he'll warm up to the idea,”

“He'll have to adjust,”

“Accusing someone without evidence is just as serious as proclaiming a killer's innocence,” she reminded him, giving him a meaningful look. “I don't want my professional reputation to suffer because of actions I took while I was asked to fulfill certain duties,” Sidonie stated firmly.

Jack observed her, biting inside his cheek.

He admired how she stood her ground while staying professional. He got why she hesitated. Her reputation had taken hits from her dad and old colleagues. More rumors or hostility could harm her credibility, affecting not just her job now but what comes next.

“I'll ensure history doesn't repeat itself,”

Rejecting Jack's proposal didn't seem like the wisest choice for her. She understood that refusing him could potentially strain their professional relationship, especially given Jack's reaction to Will Graham's statement about Abigail.

As Sidonie pondered the copycat killer and its potential link to the Hobbs family, she wondered if there could be some connection there.

She recalled Will mentioning an unidentified phone call during the lecture.

She collected her notebook, signaling the end of the conversation.

“You won't be able to repair my reputation if things go wrong.”

“It won't,” Jack asserted confidently.

"Goodnight, Agent Crawford," Sidonie bid farewell as she left the office, her footsteps echoing on the ground.

Jack watched her go, knowing she had accepted the offer.

In the dimly lit hospital room, Will Graham sits quietly, his gaze fixed on Abigail Hobbs, who lies comatose in her bed. Suddenly, the sound of hooves echoes through the hallway, drawing Will's attention to the door. A large black stag passes by, ignoring him completely.

Will rises from his seat and follows the animal's path. It disappears into one of the rooms just as the hallway lights begin to dim. Will remains still, closing his eyes slowly.

When he opens them again, he hears a soft, familiar voice.

Alana is there, reading a book to the unconscious Abigail. Will looks around the room, noticing a blanket draped over him that he doesn't remember putting on. He rests his head on the arm of the couch, listening quietly to Alana.

After a moment, he sighs softly, interrupting her.

“What are you reading?” Alana glanced back at Will, then returned her gaze to the book.

“Flannery O'Connor. When I was Abigail's age I was obsessed. I even tried to raise peacocks because she raised peacocks, but they're really stupid birds.”

“You could be reading to a killer,” Will remarked lowly, shifting slightly.

“Innocent until proven guilty and all that,” Alana replied, closing the book nervously. Will noticed her hesitation. “I'm about to broach the subject of that “match made in hell” article.”

He briefly glanced at Abigail, recalling the discomfort he and Sidonie had shared over the article. Will shifted in his seat.

“Oh, that. Did Jack send you?”

“No, I send me,” she smiled, causing a slight swell in Will's heart.

“I don't think we've ever been in a room alone together. Have we?” Will remarked.

“I haven't noticed. Have we?” Alana's voice was lighter. She glanced between Will and Abigail, smiling. “Not that we're necessarily alone now.”

Will lifted his head, stretching slightly. His hair was tousled, and his eyes were partially closed.

“Back to… Jack Crawford's crime gimp,”

“It certainly creates an image, I don't need to talk about it if you don't.”

“No, no we can talk about or not talk about whatever you want" he assured her, smiling slightly and signing with a hint of uncertainty. Alana looked at him, puzzled by his statement.

“Honestly… I was enjoying listening to you read,” he confessed, leaning back and flashing a smile, revealing his teeth.

Alana allowed herself a genuine smile in return.

“Abigail Hobbs is a success for you.”

Will remained silent at her statement, his gaze fixed on Abigail and her condition. His voice softened.

“She doesn't look like a success.”

“Don't feel sorry for yourself because you saved this girl's life.”

“I don't,” Will insisted, running his hands over his face. “I don't feel sorry for myself... at all,” he added after a moment, furrowing his brows as a realization dawned on him.

“I feel... good.”

Freddie Lounds, visibly shaken and blood-spattered, is attended to by paramedics while a police officer's body is wheeled toward an awaiting ambulance. She calls out to Jack.

“Miss Lounds?” Jack approaches, dismissing the officer beside him. “Are you alright?”

“Where's Will Graham?” Freddie's gaze searches the area anxiously.

“We have an eye witness to the murder. We don't need Will Graham,”

“No, that’s not why I am asking,” Freddie shakes her head, her expression troubled. Jack realizes this and instructs the officers to find Will Graham as Freddie begins to explain. “He was talking about people sharing the same properties of a fungus. Thoughts leaping from brain to brain. They mutate. They evolve.”

“What does he want with Will Graham?”

“Someone who understands him,” Freddie replies, causing Jack to pause. “Graham was right. Stammets is looking for connections.”

“What did you tell him?” Jack's tone is firm, demanding answers. “I need to know exactly what you told Eldon Stammets about Will Graham.”

“I told him about the Hobbs girl,” Freddie admits, her eyes distant.

“What exactly did you tell him?”

“Everything," Freddie confesses. “He wants to help Will Graham connect with Abigail Hobbs. He's going to bury her.”

The hospital elevator doors slide open, and Will Graham steps out. His phone rings, and he answers it, listening intently to Jack's voice. His expression shifts, a hint of concern creeping in.

He quickly tucks his cell phone into his back pocket and reaches into his pants, retrieving a revolver. With measured steps, he makes his way into Abigail's room.

The room is empty. No Eldon Stammets. No Abigail Hobbs.

Will's thoughts race as he backs out into the hallway and approaches the reception desk. He looks at the nurse and asks for answers, his tone urgent.

“Where is she? Abigail Hobbs. The girl in this 408. Where is she?”

“They took her for tests,” she stammers nervously.

“Who took her? Who took her?!” Will's frustration mounts, his face turning to annoyance. Without waiting for an answer, he dashes down the hallway, gun in hand.

Bounding down the stairs, Will rushes through the hallway, his eyes scanning for Eldon.

“Hey!” he shouts upon spotting him, aiming. Eldon turns, and his shoulder is suddenly struck by a bullet.

He falls to the ground, clutching his arm in pain as his gun tumbles from his grasp. Will swiftly kicks the weapon out of reach before checking Abigail's pulse, his gaze never leaving Eldon.

“What were you planning to do with her?” he hisses through his teeth.

“We evolved from mycelium. Only reintroducing her to the concept.” Eldon explains, his voice strained with pain.

“By burying her alive?” Will's tone is sharp, his disbelief evident.

“The journalist said you understood me,”

“I don't,”

"Well, you would have. You would have. If you walk into a field of mycelium, they know you're there. They know you're there,” Eldon desperately tries to explain. “Their spores reach out for you as you pass by. I know who you're reaching for. I know,” he adds, his gaze shifting to Abigail. Will listens in silence as Eldon continues.

“Abigail Hobbs. You should have let me plant her. You would have found her in a field where she could finally reach back.”

Will’s anger is evident in his gaze, although upon hearing footsteps approach he quickly presses the emergency stop button.

He leans against the doorway as the cops, nurses, and paramedics approach.

Will stands in Hannibal's office, his back turned to the elegant man.

“When you shot Eldon Stammets... who was it that you saw?” Hannibal inquires as Will's gaze shifts nervously.

“I didn't see Hobbs,”

“Then it's not Hobbs' ghost that's haunting you, is it?” Hannibal's tone softens slightly. “It's the inevitability of there being a man so bad that killing him felt good.”

“Killing Hobbs felt Just,” Will asserts firmly, recalling the act.

“Which is why you're here. To prove that sprig of zest you feel is from saving Abigail not killing her dad.” Hannibal explains. Will closes his eyes, struggling with his thoughts.

“I didn't feel a sprig of zest when I shot Eldon Stammets,” Will argues

"You didn't kill Eldon Stammets," Hannibal clarifies, meeting Will's gaze calmly. Will clenches his jaw, reluctantly admitting.

“I thought about it. I'm still not entirely sure that wasn't my intention of pulling the trigger,” he confesses, turning to look at Hannibal, searching for his reaction. Hannibal remains composed, offering no visible response.

“If your intention was to kill him, it's because you understand why he did the things he did. It's beautiful in its own way. Giving voice to the unmentionable.”

Their eyes meet for a moment. Will shakes his head.

“I should have stuck to fixing boat motors in Louisiana,” Will jests, taking a seat. Hannibal chuckles softly.

“A boat engine is a machine. A predictable problem, easy to solve. You fail, there's a paddle. Where was your paddle with Hobbs?” Hannibal inquires, moving to sit directly across from him.

“You're supposed to be my paddle,”

“I am,” Hannibal affirms, mimicking Will's gesture.

“It wasn't the act of killing Hobbs that got you down, was it?” Hannibal pauses, letting the question linger.

Will contemplates for a moment, his thoughts racing.

“Did you really feel so bad because killing him felt so good?”

“I liked killing Hobbs,” Will confesses.

Hannibal leans in, a sense of satisfaction evident in his demeanor. Though his expression remains unchanged, there's a subtle understanding in his voice.

“Killing must feel good to God, too. He does it all the time, and are we not created in his image?” Will avoids the question, looking down at his hands.

“That depends on who you ask,”

“God's terrific. He dropped a church roof on thirty-four of his worshippers last Wednesday night in Texas, while they sang a hymn.”

“Did God feel good about that?” Will asks.

Hannibal pauses, locking eyes with Will and tilting his head slightly.

“He felt powerful.”

Jack entered the lab, taking in the busy scene of forensic analysts at work. Beverly greeted him and informed him that the evidence had been handed over.

Jack scanned the room and spotted Sidonie, who was conversing with one of the clerks about handling specific evidence.

He called her over, and Sidonie excused herself from the clerk and approached Jack and Beverly.

“Follow me,” Jack instructed, leading the way. Sidonie glanced back at Beverly, who gave her an encouraging thumbs up.

Sidonie quickened her pace catching up with him. She stayed quiet, sensing it likely pertained to yesterday’s discussion.

As Jack opened the door to his office, she stepped in, her gaze immediately falling on a man she didn't recognize, dressed in a dark blue suit with brown stripes.

Jack closed the door behind them, ensuring it was locked.

The man turned to face them as he heard the door close, his eyes meeting Sidonie's with a hint of recognition from a photograph he had seen.

“Dr. Lecter, this is Special Agent Sidonie Renard,” Jack introduced, gesturing towards Sidonie.

“Sidonie, this is Dr. Hannibal Lecter. He will be assisting us with insights on the Painters case.”

[hannigrarnrecs]

each according to its kind by chaparral_crown (m, 192k)

will does the only reasonable thing that someone fresh out of a mental hospital with no support system does - he leaves, and goes on a road trip to the pacific northwest.

[the-rad-pineapple]

in a bit of a writing slump, but here's a little sneak peak into the last chapter of la douleur exquise.