Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a gruesome thing, the murder that he had seen laid out before him. It wasn’t the type of thing that normally came about in a closed-off town like this. Nothing strange- nothing unorderly or unusual. The most unusual thing that frequented the town was just him. He was one of the few things that turned heads and sparked whispers between church-going natives, he was a hermit, and he was unsociable. He was the best profiler they had for the job. They truly needed an outsider looking in, and he was made for peering through looking glasses. So that’s exactly what he did.

Her name was Lorraine Shrader, no file needed to tell him who she was, it was only there for legality. Personal information files are rarely needed in rural towns such as this. A wife and mother of three, active within the community. A pretty welcome commonality between locals here. She was the type of woman you found at competitional bake sales, not in the sloppy alley behind Benny Harille’s Dive Bar. Her corpse reeked of booze and rot. Who's to say if it’s her body or the location itself where the stench came from.

Her body was split and festering, organs hung out of her abdomen like a spool of unraveled thread. Pieces of intestines strewn above her shoulders mounted like and wrapped around her neck like a noose, nailed thickly into boards that cascaded the wall. Stakes were driven through both wrists and feet, almost to appear like a stylistic crucifixion. The cause of death was asphyxiation; he noted to himself as he pulled at the intestine around her neck to see marks of a rope. 

Her head was turned upward to the stairwells above… She was forced to look upward as the spoiling contents of her body splattered the pavement. It looked like a disgusting finger paint of blood on the garbage bins underneath. He raised the pads of his gloved hand to rest on her face, which made him realize that her closed mouth was holding something. In the cusp of her teeth, there were stems, shoved in her mouth haphazardly as the greenery and petals gave her a look as if she had salad stuck in her bloody oozing teeth.

“How you fairing over there Billy-” A stocky bearded man yelled from the entrance of the alleyway, briskly moving forward towards Will. Nervously fidgeting with the corner of his suit as he maneuvered around the forensic team.

“I’ve told you to stop calling me that, Marcus, it’s Will- I'm no televangelist.”

“That you are not.” Marcus let out a characteristically ugly snort, scrubbing his boot against the dirt. He gazed up at Will. Marcus seemed emotional but that didn’t deter him, upset at what he saw, but as calm as ever. He refused to look away, eyes boring into will. Did he want sympathy? Will didn’t think he could muster up any sympathy. 

Will peered down away from his eyes, but Marcus continued his gaze. Maybe his long stares are how he got away with being so unorthodox. People found Marcus likable, but Will didn't have that form of mastery. Eye contact made him uneasy, he never knew how long to stare to keep the normality of it, nor did he appreciate how much or little he saw out of the unsuspecting person. At that moment, the ground seemed very interesting, and Marcus definitely did not.

He began to feel nauseous as the man's eyes peered at the back of his head. He needed to say something. He didn't want to but if he didn't talk Marcus would and he thinks that would make it worse.

 “I'm fairing fine, if you give me some time alone without your lackeys cramping the crime scene I can probably tell you something,” He choked out as he covered his nose with one hand as moved the other up the corpse's jaw, “well something other than the fact her body smells like a sewage pipe and cheap beer.” 

Will hooked his gloved fingers behind her teeth to pry open her mouth. Her body was stiff and cold, her mouth was devoid of moisture. As the mouth was pried ajar he fished out the stems and crushed petals. They were the same petals that Mary Moseby kept planted at the front of city hall. 

“Huh- forget-me-nots, how poetic.” 

Marcus didn’t seem to be in a wonderful mood, surprising. 

“What are we thinking Will, jilted lover? Husband? It seems awful personal.”

Will left him to sit in his silence. Will was thinking, why would he leave her out here, where is the remorse, if there was any. This isn’t a kill of romantic passion, it’s something else entirely, but what could it be.

“Get the rest of the team out of here.”

The ruddy-faced man sighed out of resignation “—alright.”

“Everyone out!” He yelled across the alleyway. Gesturing out to the sidewalks, where tape covered the entrance, passersby gaped at the scene. The Forensic team and the police department don’t typically get along, so they looked over at Will, confused and aggravated as they followed outward to the crowd. 

The loud chatter turned into a mellow buzz.

Will closed his eyes and focused on the beat of his own heart, beat, beat, beat—-tick, tick, tick, consistent and quiet like the sound of a metronome. The muffled speaking around him fizzled away, he glanced up back at the bricks, and with that everything was silent. The once gruesome scene was empty.

—--------------------------------------------------

It was empty when we were there.

I walk at a brisk pace behind Lorraine, unafraid if she sees me following her path, this meeting was long overdue. This means either Lorraine was already at the bar or the alley was a location of circumstance. I take my left hand to her neck and squeeze. Then push her against the fading brick effectively bashing her head into the wall, this disorients but does not stop her struggling. She does not go away quietly. Kicking and screaming I grab a cloth and gag her. Not before she takes a bite out of my hand. 

This enrages me. I take a quick swing to the left of her jaw, toppling her to the ground. I straddle the body as Lorraine looks me in the eye. I want her to see her mistake. Lorraine has made an unforgivable mistake. As my hand bleeds and contaminates the crime scene I wrap it with another foreign cloth, it’s the best I can manage in the situation. Lorraine has a look of fear and confusion as I tear into her body. I want her to be alive while she watches. If she didn't remember me before she will now, remember remember remember. This kill was a promise. She refuses to recognize me and cries out into the cloth. I just wanted her to learn. She just looks up at me confused, struggling, does she really not know what she has done to me?

 I am giving her a second chance through death to truly understand, hands deep in her abdomen. Remember, remember, remember. My resolve begins to teeter. I take the rope that I meant to tie her legs, and instead wrap it around her neck and pull, I pull until the gasps and groans are silent. Until her eyes go blank. 

She doesn't remember, so I nail her to the wood, the loud sounds of the busy night start to dwindle, and I get nervous about being seen. That’s when I get sloppy, metal stakes don’t drive through bones easily. My technique has room for improvement, but it doesn’t matter because she needs to be forgiven and this is how I forgive. I tie her neck with her soiled intestine and hang it on the gutter hooks. Handfuls of flowers from my pocket I decidedly stuffed in her mouth, they were a gift but now it’s just another preamble. Jesus died for their sins, but she died for her own. She is forgiven. I have forgiven her. 

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The air goes cold, the dark orange sky desaturates to the faded grey-blue of the brick alley. Will looks at Marcus and urges him over as he rubs his hand, it pinches and aches.

“So?” Marcus mumbles gruffly still shooting worried glances toward the body.

“It doesn’t seem to be out of romantic inclination, I may be wrong. Whoever did this thinks she deserves a punishment. It Could be a mirror of the punishment they were given—one they think she deserves. Lorraine is just the means of achieving a promise. The killer doesn’t love Lorraine in that sense, but they are remorseful. They are explaining the consequences of something. They weren’t allowed to forget their disobedience, so neither can she. She definitely knows the killer.”

“You got all of that out of thinking and looking at a corpse?”

“I got that out of interpreting evidence and high empathy Marcus, you didn’t have to send for me you know I do field work and speeding tickets. Not whatever the hell this is.” Will stammers, nervous sweat falling off his brow line.

“ I just want to make sure that you ain’t pulling some hogwash, Graham.”

“I wish the things I feel with people like this were a bunch of hogwash, I’m not lying I assure you, ask any therapist I’ve visited, oh wait yeah, there are none.”

Marcus took that moment to run his hand through his thinning red hair. The forensic team flooded back into the scene, giving both of them a once over before they began to bag evidence.

Marcus goes quiet around them and chokes out a whisper, “You know you’re my plan Z, Billy.”

“This is what the FBI is for Marcus, both you and I know that. If there’s anyone else in his ‘line of punishment’ this will be serial. They’re gonna take it out of our hands.” Will states hoarsely adopting Marcus’s tone. 

“Word gets around we are calling the FBI down here, the people will riot Will. This isn’t a big city and these ain’t government people.” Marcus gestured widely to the markets nearby.

“That’s out of my hands and you know it.”

Marcus took his gaze off of Will and stapled it to the ground, Will understands how defeated he feels. He puts his hand on Marcus’ shoulder for some act of kindness he can manage, whatever works to get him off Will’s back.

Marcus begins to clear his throat and takes a look at Will. “I-I know alright, I just don't know how anyone will keep their doors unlocked after this”. Marcus began to contain himself and then asked Will with an almost groan. “Consequences of what-”

“Huh?”

“You said He was punishing her, what is he punishing her for?”

“I’m not sure- something that can’t be forgiven by normal terms.”

“Well if it was something like that we both know damn well no secrets stay secret in a town like this. I’m gonna need a person interviewing in every volunteer room, every book club, every bake sale, someone has to know something.”

That was not his area of expertise, Aka that was his cue to leave.

“Alright, you call if you need me then I’m headed out.”

“Headed back to work?” Marcus regained his wide showy smile. Found himself amused once more as he prodded at Will. It’s almost impressive how he shook off his work persona, but Will decided to not dwell on it too closely. 

“I’m taking a half-day and an aspirin, gotta fix dinner anyway.” 

“You live on her road don't you, Will ?” 

“I don't converse with neighbors, Marcus.”

Well if you don’t mind breaking that tradition I’d like it if you checked on the family before their home is filled ear to ear with law enforcement.” 

“I am law enforcement.”

“humor me Will.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but you got the reins on Allan.” Will voiced back as he made his stride off. 

“His wife died, what the hell am I supposed to say to him?” Marcus snapped back, stepping around an irritated forensic. Did all of them wake up on the wrong side of the bed? Will wondered.

“Talk about your dead wife, see, common ground.” Will joked, still trying to ease away from the conversation. This is way too much talking to his liking and now he’s going to have to comfort crying kids. This is not how he wants to spend a Tuesday afternoon.

“That’s cold Graham.”

“You can invite him to drink his sorrows away after we mark him off the suspect list, though I would choose a bar a town away, maybe two to be safe,” Will said as he gestured pointedly to the bar surrounding the alley. He grinned at Marcus expecting a laugh and a shrug back.

There was no returned courtesy, Marcus didn’t seem to find his joke all that funny.

The silence was deafening.

“You really are an oddball, Will, you know that?” 

That shouldn’t have set Will off the way it did; Because of course it's fine to morbidly joke until he does it, then it’s not a joke it’s unnerving. I guess even Marcus isn’t immune to being unnerved. At least this is where he can stop the conversation where he likes it, on agitated disappointing terms.

“I do happen to get told that every day I come to work, I should have kept tinkering with boat engines.” 

Marcus may have responded to that, who knows? Because Will took a quick brisk pace to his truck before he could get any form of response. Slamming the car door for good measure, he started the engine and methodically tapped the wheel as he drove off into the dusk.

Chapter Text

Will brushed his hand against the Georgian-style columns of the house, culminating in noticeable dust and pollen on his fingertips, leaving a yellow residue. He should walk in. He should definitely walk in. Instead of standing outside of his own house like an idiot. Though the alternative was walking inside and dealing with Beau Graham. Who most likely is up playing cards with some of the town bishops that he would rather not have in his house. That or he will bitch at Will for something that is wholly insignificant. He is not looking forward to either of those outcomes, but staying outside on his porch and looking out on the nearby houses makes guilt pull at his skin.

 He really should have checked on the Shraders, but they would probably try to just interrogate him. He was already cornered at the department by Marcus Barett this morning and that went so well. Will was not looking for a repeat offense. He should at least get a cigarette out of his truck, and give his porch standing a purpose. 

He all but stumbled over to his truck and opened the passenger door, rummaging through the dash and the shoulder rest compartment. His Marlboros were hidden under a stack of car insurance papers. He hadn’t remembered placing them there. He slid open the top as he pulled his lighter out of the side door. That’s when he found a slip of paper inside in the place of his cigarettes. 

He took a loud tired sigh, “ Dad…”, Then proceeded to pull out his flip phone. He frantically typed a message in the box and hit send before he remembered that he was starting a conversation with the man he was purposefully trying to ignore with his cigarettes. Now he is starting an argument about them, ironic.

Will: “ What did you do with my cigarettes?”

Oddly enough, his response was almost immediate, which was rare when it came to his father, who either called to speak or didn’t respond altogether.

Dad: “Pocketed a few to burn off the edge of my whiskey, you were supposed to be quitting anyhow- consider it a favor.”

Will: “Well next time you feel like doing a favor, notify me before you do so I can make a stop by the gas station.”

Then of course instead of giving a simple apology or any acknowledgment whatsoever, his dad responds instead with:

Dad: “Are you heading home from the department in a bit? Jerry and Lin are asking if you want to be dealt in”

…

Dad: “ We are playing Rummy with an old friend of mine.”

Cards, It’s always cards with that old man. Will sighed as He grabbed his wallet and empty box out of the seat, and walked over to the garbage cans. Pulling out his phone again.

Will: “Yeah deal me in, I’m five minutes out.”
…

Dad: “ Saw you pull in fifteen minutes ago son”

“Damn it,” He muttered, embarrassed as he closed the lid which snagged on his cotton work shirt. Of course, he noticed that Will pulled up, his luck.

Dad: “But I’ll play along with the ‘five minutes’, feed the dogs while you’re out there though.”

Will muttered a string of curses, pocketing his phone for good. Then padded underneath the awning that his father kept their boat under, effectively opening one of the two containers propped against the metal stabilizers. He doesn’t understand why they can’t just keep the kibble containers in the pantry, most of the dogs opt to stay inside anyway. His dad always attested and said that pantries, “Are for people's food and people's food exclusively.”

 That pissed off Will of course but he still compromised, he wishes he could keep his Dad’s food outside. Would serve him right. 

His house feels less and less like his space every day. He couldn’t exactly blame his dad for needing help after the car accident he had, wheelchairs are shit to deal with. It’s just that Beau is even harder to deal with. Will is in his late thirties, who would have thought the teenage angst would come back with a vengeance. He took one more audible sigh for good measure, then took two scoops of food and found his way back up to the porch. 

He tried to peer into the windows to see who this “friend” of his father was and to see if he has any recollection of him. The blinds were half shut and his widows were visibly neglected when it came to cleaning, so that proved to be useless. His curiosity got the best of him. He hurried back to the awning to place the metal scoops back to their rightful place, passing each of his dogs and only petting each one briefly, stopping Langston to pet him a bit longer to calm him down as he stood in front of the screen door.

He grabbed the handle and slowly entered to make the least amount of noise possible; the less acknowledgment, the better, he thought. Will hung his keys up on the key rack and slid his wallet onto the counter. Nothing so far, maybe he can take a seat at the table and it not be a big deal. They can play a game and ask about his day with annoying small talk and be done with it. This is good, he grabbed a water bottle from the case on the ground and looked at the wooden table.

“Will!” His dad craned his neck as he swiveled in his direction, “nice of you to finally join us.” He rushed towards him and grabbed his arm grinning wide.

There goes that.

His look of obvious discomfort didn’t deter his father, never has. “Now boys you’ve met my old work friends and let them chat your ear off so I’ve decided to cut you some slack and let you meet the silent one of the bunch.” He nudged his elbow into Will’s side. 

“This is my son William,” He stated as he confidently rushed Will to his seat, almost threatening to run him over. He then pointed out a man sitting at the left side of the table. “And this is my old colleague, ol’ ‘Union Jack’ Crawford.” 

“Jack is fine,” A stern-faced but pleased man reached out to shake his hand. Will shook back then looked pointedly at the door wondering hopelessly if Langston or any of the rest of his dogs would save him. 

They did not.

“I’ve heard many good things, Will, I’m glad we can finally meet.” Jack looked like he was about to begin rambling loudly to Will, much to his dismay when–

“Don’t mind me of course” Will took his eyes off the table and peered toward the oddly accented voice. Sat next to Jack and Lin was a thin man with broad pointed shoulders and sunken eyes. He was undoubtedly foreign, not only from his voice but from the old-world charm he had about himself. His smile was curled upwards in a smarmy manner. People like him were one of the reasons he hated eye contact, this man stared directly into his soul.

Jack either unknowingly or purposefully broke the intense stare the two had been holding to clap a large hand on Hannibal's shoulder,  “Ah yes how inconsiderate of me,” his eyes looked down to the man, “This is my dear friend Hannibal Lecter.”

Then to make his unease worse the man, Hannibal, spoke again. “Not very fond of eye contact are you, Will?”

Will had heard that one before from less antagonizing-looking people so he was prepared, but before he could give his planned ‘eyes are distracting’ speech his father quickly interrupted his words and fuzzy train of thought.

“Hasn’t been since he was a kid, I used to think he was just sensitive to scolding but he’s managed to keep it up until now. Makes me feel like I yelled at him a little too much,” he joked. Giving a noticeable long glance in Hannibal’s direction. “Quite the observationist Hannibal.”

“It happens to be another part of me I can’t control…much like my sense of smell,” Hannibal replied, starting up a chain reaction of laughter and general guffawing. It must have been some weird inside joke he missed while he was mourning his Marlboros outside.

After taking a few huffing breaths his stiff controlled laughter ceased as Hannibal glanced back up at Will, handing him his cards. “Though I suppose I came off as abrupt Will, I apologize.”

“No apologies needed.” Will choked out.

“Well I find there’s one in order,” He flashed his teeth at will, it gave him the same look like a feral dog that bared its teeth at an intruder, not the polite gesture that it was.

Hannibal continued, “and I would hate to be rude.”

Will’s anxiety spiked to new levels, that crime scene was getting to him.

That or there something was very wrong with Hannibal.

Chapter Text

Will held to his cards with an unrelenting grip, partly out of fear and mostly out of the exhaustion today had brought him. He was too tired to deal with all these people in his house, especially without anything to take off the edge and soothe his mind. Maybe he should go up to the medicine cabinet and grab an aspirin. He wasn’t contributing very much to the conversation or the game itself anyway, but even that seemed impossible. Especially with the feeling of that man’s eyes peering at his neck, raking him over.

 He was frozen and a little nauseous at the thought. Had his father not seen anything wrong with him, nothing discerning or off-putting? The one time that using his prejudice for “social elites” would have been useful it seemed to slip his mind because the man was accompanied by Jack Crawford. Will looked over at his father with an expression of annoyed misery, trying to get him to understand the sheer amount of distaste he had for his “old friends”. Though instead of noticing his gaze for long, in a moment Will could only describe it as a sheer act of sympathy, Beau let out a shrill whistle and called out into the living room.

“Winston!” He called with a beckoning motion, “Winston come here boy!” 

A bark in response and the sound of rustling came from the corner of the room. Will had not noticed the dog before because the kitchenette wall shielded the view out, but it’s possibly the most gratitude he’s felt for his dad in months, years even. Winston padded across the room in content unawareness up until he sat in front of Will, to which he then shifted his demeanor. Winston always knew when something was wrong with Will, well when something was more wrong than usual. He then began to survey the room, as his dad huffed humorously about the dog’s antics, Will knowing better, stayed silent. Then after what seemed like ten minutes, Winston began to lose his restlessness, not being able to find the cause of Will’s discomfort, he promptly laid across Will’s feet underneath the table. Not even he could find what was wrong with Will. Which was a rare occurrence.

“A curious dog you have there Beau,” Jack remarked softly, opening his palm and letting Winston shift underneath the table to nose at his hand, “looks out for you I’d imagine.” 

“And he’s good at his job,” Beau said, then paused for a moment.

“Great service dog, great hunting dog too.” The older man solidified his reply, shifting his peppered and graying hair out from the front of his eyes as he looked down at Winston.

Jerry then broke his uncharacteristic silence “He may be a good service dog to you Beau, but we all know he’s an even better one for Will.” He chuckled, patting Will on the back. “That dog is more friends with him than any person he hangs around.”

“You would honestly think he would be around me considering I fed him every day and trained him since he was a few months old, but Nah,” Beau said gruffly in response to Jerry, then more pointedly to the rest of the table. “That darn dog picks favorites and that favorite ain’t me.”

That got a laugh from most of the men, Jack in particular, and though slightly offended at the observation that he doesn’t have many friends, it cracked a smile from Will. He looked down at Winston, who noticed his gaze and returned to his rightful place at Will’s feet. Will then grabbed the discarded card pile in the middle of the table and straightened the cards with a loud thump against the wood.

“How about a game of Blackjack,” Will muttered, he hated Rummy. 

Mostly hums of agreement at the table, except for Jack and Beau. Will peered over and his dad looked like he was holding back a heavy laugh while glancing at Jack.

“If you make the joke you’re planning on making I swear that I will send my shoe flying right into your nose Beau.”

“Come on Jack you know it’s a little funny”

“It’s never been funny, you're just an idiot.”

“Fair.”

Jack just huffed in amusement and looked squarely at Will.

“Well, are you gonna deal, kid?”

It took a few seconds to process what just happened, then he nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, Yeah of course.” He said passing out two cards to each person laying one face down out of sight of the other players. Jerry nodded towards him and Lin patted his cards three times like he was performing some sort of ritual. He probably was, superstitions radiated off Lin like heat from a stove. Will slid over cards to both Jack and his father still holding a look of nostalgic amusement. 

Then got to the final player, and his sudden forgotten anxiety crept back in his throat like a vice.

The fair-haired older man just held a thin-lipped smile, keeping his gaze. Will knows he should look away, but the fact the man’s eyes seem so clouded, he had to keep an intense focus. Every person he saw looking in their eyes was almost an open door to what kind of person he was dealing with. Then there were the rare cases, the people Will couldn’t decipher for the life of him, the presenters, the entertainers, the ones with deep-crafted personas. Some people were too layered to crack open on looks alone. This man seemed so calculated it was almost robotic, and it angered him because he knew he did it on purpose. His stuffy demeanor and measured emotions, presented an air of professionalism because it’s what he wanted Will to see. Where Will was a quilted patchwork of people's emotional responses and thoughts that he couldn't control, this man was something different entirely. It was like he was zipped tight in a replica of a person, an uncanny valley teetering the line of real humanity. He felt like he was empathizing with soot in a chimney, all while the man kept his thin cold smile.

Will broke out of his trance and looked back at his cards. He held a queen of hearts on his outward card, then flipped his inner card toward himself to reveal a five of clubs. Fifteen, he could work with that.

A series of “Hit me”s echoed through the kitchen all with Will sliding a card to each player as they called out. Well, all except the man, Heath? Hendrix? Hampton? He wasn’t paying attention to his introduction, maybe that was rude of him, but the man didn’t exactly make it easy for him to focus. He just sat back comfortably, happy with his set. Will flipped a card for himself, four of spades. Which wasn’t half bad. 

“Staying,” He stated, waiting for the rest of the table to confirm or bust. His father and Jerry both busted at their third card, leaving Will, Jack, Lin, and the other man set for victory.

But instead of folding, Lin let out a determined huff.

“Hit me.” Lin gave Will a pointed smirk, holding up four cards. They always played the “rule of fives” as his dad liked to call it. If Lin didn’t pass twenty-one with five cards he won automatically. Lin seemed confident in his victory, so Will slid him a final card.

A moment of silent counting and-

“Shit” Lin muttered, looking mildly upset at his set, “I thought I could pull it off this time.”

“You say that every time.” Will’s dad shot back.

“I know, but I could feel it, in my bones ”

“Well, keep those “feeling bones” far away from me alright.”

“Oh, shut up, Beau.”

Enough bickering , Will thought to himself, “Ante up.”

Jack folded to show an Ace and an eight of spades, nineteen points, just like Will. Will let out a small smile, and in a tie, the dealer wins. 

“Alright, next time I think you should let me deal, Beau.”

“That would be a tempting offer to a man who hasn’t seen you try and fail to shuffle,” He clamped his hand on Crawford’s shoulder in a gesture of patronizing complacency. “Now let’s see what you got, Hannibal.”

Hannibal, Will noted dutifully, no wonder he couldn’t remember his name, it was like European aristocracy personified.

“Well, I hate to break up such competitiveness, but,” Hannibal turned his cards outwards to show an Ace of clubs and a Jack of hearts. “It seems I have won.” He let out a look of indifference, but then his expression shifted into something foreign as he looked at Will.

“Sorry to surpass your accomplishment.”

No, He’s not, Will thought to himself annoyed at losing.

“No, you’re not.” Jack laughs, jabbing at Hannibal’s side. “Polite bastard.”

“That won’t get you anywhere with my boy,” Beau added. “He finds niceties tedious.”

“When have I ever said that?” Will almost whined in annoyance.

“You don’t have to, you just have to bring yourself to any celebration ever and It’s evident buddy.” Beau smiled back, a sharp thing.

“Well, if that happens to be the case William, then I admit, even in a game of blind luck, beating you pleases me,” Hannibal said with a snide look flashing his sharp teeth.

“Atta boy!” Beau says, giving Hannibal an honorary pat on the back, “We don’t need the modest here at the Graham house.”

Maybe not in Beau Graham’s house, Will thought, but I’d appreciate a lack of blatant showy attitudes in mine. 

Will then reached out for the cards to deal out the other hand, his body mostly on autopilot at this point. He got up and grabbed water out of the case resting near the door. Then taking two and placing them in the old white fridge, his dad prefers cold waters, it will save later bickering. 

He then turned back and took his seat, petting Winston’s back before he flipped his inward card to continue playing. 

“You never exactly told me what you’re doing in town, Jack.” Beau remarked, glancing upward at Jack, “North Georgia isn’t exactly a vacation spot for most, especially considering it’s not a beach town, It ain’t exactly Savannah here.”

“Sadly, I’m not here off the clock Beau, a case has caught the bureau’s interest.”

“I forgot about your promotion, how does that go, head investigator.” Beau poked at Jack with an amused huff.

“Not as glorious as they painted it, that’s for sure, It makes me actually miss the marines” 

“Wow, it must be real shit then.”

“It’s definitely not roses, but I can’t say it’s been all bad, especially the pay, I’m hoping if I save enough Bella and I can go back to Italy for our twentieth.”

Beau took both his cards and pressed them dramatically against his chest, “Twenty years, Jack you’re making me feel awful old here, I’m still trying to convince Lin that I’m actually fifty-five.” He lamented placing his head and hands on the wood of the table.

“You ain’t succeeding old man” Lin laughed knocking a knuckle on Beau’s exposed hand, Beau yanked it back, shaking it as a form of self-soothing.

“Is that where your friend came from, Crawford?” Beau remarked again, “He definitely doesn’t seem like a local, our rich ones are more southern sounding than a spoonful of molasses.”

“Ah yes, Dr. Lecter is helping consult on the case as a psychological profiler.”

That’s when Hannibal spoke up again, “My main job happens to be psychiatry.”

And with that, all the ill will toward Hannibal in Will’s mind started to make sense.

“You certainly dress the part,” Beau remarked, “If you don’t mind me asking, where exactly are you from? Your voice has a certain twang, son.”

“Baltimore, Maryland currently, though Lithuania is where I was born, if that's what you mean.”

“Lithuania isn't a very restful place from what I’ve heard.”

And at that moment Will looked up at Hannibal, his breath seemed to catch, deep in thought. He paced himself before he responded. His facade seemed to crack, if for only a moment. 

“No, No Mr. Graham it is not. I thank the circumstances that I experienced to find myself where I am now.”

“I appreciate a hard-working man, glad you were here to join us to make my acquaintance.”

“Oh, I assure you, Mr. Graham, the pleasure is all mine.”

His look was a slight contrast to his actions, which were stiff and rigid. He seemed to age at that moment. His actual age seemed to be in some gray area between his father’s and his own, mid-forties at the most, but his calm demeanor made it look otherwise. Will took the rest of the cards in his hand, growing tired. The dusk had completely faded into dark now, and the holster around his waist seemed heavier with each game they played. He didn’t want to socialize anymore. He just wanted to sleep. The heaviness of his eyes was almost too much to bear.

“Maybe it’s time I head back to the hotel,” Jack murmured, standing up with a loud popping sound. “Bella is waiting for me.”

“Phyllis is with you? Why didn’t you invite her, Jack? ” Beau said with a bit of an edge, “You know I haven’t seen her in an age either.”

“She had some business to attend, and anyways, I don’t need you nipping at her heels.”

“Oh Bella, Bella, Bella” He called to Jack in a singsong voice, “My dearest Belle~” Beau snickered, but then composed himself. “Seriously Jack, if you need a place to stay I promise you Will and I won’t mind.”

Will wished his father would stop stating what he would and wouldn’t mind. 

“I know, I know,” Jack said, patting the back of Beau’s wheelchair. “I’ve missed you too Beau.”

“Talk to you soon!” His dad called out while Jack had one foot out the door.

“I’ll definitely keep in touch,” Jack replied, tipping his hat as he closed the screen door behind him, petting the dogs as he made his way out to a black Sudan parked on the other side of the road.

Most everyone after that proceeded to get up and say their goodbyes, nodding at Beau and Will before they headed out the door, forming back into their normal routines. The quiet of the room was welcome, so welcome in fact, he didn’t even notice that one of the men never left. Hannibal sat still quietly in his seat at the table speaking with his father. He must have not noticed them as Lin and Jerry both jabbed loudly at each other heading out the door.

“I just felt it was needed that I thank you again for your hospitality, Mr. Graham.”

“Oh anytime Doctor, I find it nice that even though I’m well retired, I’m still needed for input and a good conversation," His dad seemed to think to himself for a moment, picking at the spindle on one of his chair wheels “speaking of, would you like to stay here for the night? It’s awful cold out and unlike Jack, you don’t have a warm body to battle against that shitty hotel A/C unit.”

“I simply couldn’t Beau, you’ve already offered so much tonight I couldn’t intrude.”

“It’s no intrusion Hannibal I insist.” His dad gave Hannibal one of his famous glares and Will saw how Hannibal’s resolve slowly crumbled.

 Will then watched in horror as Hannibal then nodded in agreement, and went to retrieve something out of the Bentley outside, coming back with a sleek black case full to the brim.

The man was going to stay the night in his home.

Will was going to kill his father.