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BUREAUS STAR BLOODHOUND TURNED SERIAL KILLER: HOW WILL GRAHAM FOOLED THE FBI

WILL GRAHAM: FBI AGENT AND COPYCAT KILLER; AN EXPOSE ON A TWISTED MIND

FBI’S GOLDEN BOY WILL GRAHAM'S KILL COUNT REACHES DOUBLE DIGITS 

FORMER FBI AGENT TURNED KILLER WILL GRAHAM PLEADS INSANITY; SENTENCED TO LIFE AT BOSTON STATE HOSPITAL FOR THE CRIMINALLY INSANE.

Hannibal studied each of the framed newspaper clippings slowly, biting back the smile that threatened to spread across his face.

He already knew all these articles, of course. Each had been read, cut out and perfectly placed inside the binder he kept on the Copycat Killer.

He’d been interested in Dr.  Graham’s endeavors before even knowing it was Dr. Graham who was doing them. 

Regrettably, he’d never met the man before he was caught. Jack Crawford had contacted him to consult on one of the Copycat Killer cases after Dr. Graham had been put on medical leave, just before he was apprehended. 

Encephalitis, apparently. The condition that would eventually lead to his capture.

It was a shame, really. To see such an artist thrown behind bars. According to Dr. Grahams defense team, the infection is also what pushed him to kill in the first place. 

Hannibal was morbidly curious to see what the man could come up with when his brain wasn’t cooking inside his skull. 

It was because of this curiosity that he even found himself standing in the last place he ever wanted to be; Frederick Chilton's office. 

Doctor Chilton was extremely proud of his famous ward, as if simply running the institution Will Graham was kept in somehow gave him the respect and power that he so desperately craved. 

Which would explain the small shrine dedicated to Dr. Graham and his arrest.

The display was in poor taste, considering that, in a previous life, Dr. Graham and Dr. Chilton were technically colleagues. But then again, most of the things Frederick did were in poor taste. 

But intrigue had won out over his contempt, when Miss Lounds had posted an article about Dr. Graham’s pure empathy. Hannibal immediately knew he would have to find a way to interview Will Graham. 

The opportunity came not long after the Miss Lounds’s article had made the rounds. 

It was at the opera, where Hannibal had found the good Dr. Chilton regaling his friends with tales of the asylum. Will Graham had, of course, been brought up and that’s when Hannibal found his way in. 

Frederick, shockingly, had been less than thrilled to talk about his famous ward in a way that wasn’t intended to humiliate the man. Still, Hannibal wasn’t deterred. It only took a few well placed comments and some strokes to Frederick’s ego for the seeds to be planted.  

Two weeks later, he received the call.

Overpowering cologne and the bitter tang of jealousy filled the air, signaling Frederick’s arrival before he’d even spoken a word. 

“Admiring my accomplishments?” 

Hannibal turned to face Frederick, who was giving him a bitter smile. Where most people would at least pretend to appear more apologetic about being late to their meeting, Frederick kept his shoulders straight and chest puffed out like some sort of over confident peacock. 

“I wasn’t aware that Will Graham's arrest was one of your accomplishments. I’d wager that honor goes to Beverly Katz.” 

A twitch of irritation crossed Frederick’s face for a split second before being replaced by an arrogant smirk. “But to the victor goes the spoils.” 

“I suppose you’re correct.” 

“That’s why I called you here, actually,” He continued, moving to stand behind his desk. “To give you the opportunity to treat Will Graham.”

It was a great feat to keep his expression neutral. “Oh? For what purpose?” 

A faint tinge of red dusted Chilton’s cheeks. “He refuses to talk to me. Since he arrived in my care six months ago he’s been incredibly tight lipped.”

“Writing a new book, Dr. Chilton?” 

“As a matter of fact, yes. Another best seller in the works! But that twitchy little man refuses to speak to me.” 

“And you believe he will speak to me?” 

“It’s a theory I’m testing. You see, he’s always been intimidated by me and my intellect. And seeing as I am now his keeper, I’ve deduced the man is embarrassed and will not speak to me because of that. Therefore, I must bring in a non-threatening third party for his sessions.” 

“I see. And why not ask Doctor Bloom? I believe they were friends at one time.” 

“Doctor Bloom is on her honeymoon. And she refuses to see Will. I’ve already approached her with this offer.” 

Hannibal hummed, turning back to the wall of newspaper clippings to hide his pleased smirk. 

“I suppose I can make some time in my schedule for a session today.” He replied, making sure to keep his voice even but still slightly disinterested. “Am I to assume this will become a regular occurrence?” 

“Yes. As long as Will Graham is willing to speak to you, you’ll have an all access pass to him.” 

Oh, the things he might accomplish with such access. He was nearly dizzy with all the possibilities. 

“I have other patients, Frederick. I cannot simply redo my whole schedule to interview Will Graham everyday.” 

Already he was mentally making changes to his schedule to make this work. He would cite unforeseen personal circumstances that require him to lessen his workload. This would give him the perfect excuse to refer his needier patients and stop accepting new ones, while moving everyone else to the morning and afternoon, leaving his evenings wide open for Will Graham. 

“Come now, Doctor Lecter. The long list of neuroses that infect his brain are like catnip to any psychiatrist worth their salt. You’d be a fool to turn this down.” 

If Hannibal were a different man, he’d roll his eyes at the fumbled attempt at persuasion.

“I will agree to today, Frederick. But anything more will require major changes to my schedule that I’ll have to consider.” 

Frederick had the decency to look at least slightly chastised by his boldness, but that expression was quickly replaced with forced indifference. 

“Follow me, Doctor Lecter. We wouldn’t want to keep Mr. Graham waiting.” 

***

They were keeping Will Graham in the maximum security wing. 

Most of the inmates were quiet. Some were lying on their cots, others watched them pass by with unseeing eyes. The rest had their backs to them. 

A few were crude. They shouted as he walked by, calling him a pretty boy and some even going so far as to threaten taking him by force.

They’re lucky, Hannibal muses, that they’re locked away out of his reach.

He’d love to cut out every one of their tongues and make them eat it. 

“For the first session, I request that you do so while he’s in his cell. He’s been known to…attack people who interview him. You know of Freddie Lounds I assume?” 

“The tabloid journalist?” 

“Yes. She had to get twelve stitches in her neck when he was done with her. You would not believe the deal our lawyers had to make so she wouldn’t sue.” 

Will Graham's cell came into view and Hannibal could feel the excitement bubbling in his veins. 

He was behind a thick wall of glass, unlike everyone else in the cell block who was shoved away behind iron bars. He was stretched out languidly on his cot with a book in his hands. Dante’s Inferno. 

Frederick was decidedly less happy at the sight. “Who gave you a book? Your privileges were revoked.” 

Will set the book down on his chest and smiled, sending all the air rushing out of Hannibal’s lungs.

The photos Freddie Lounds posted on Tattlecrime hadn’t done him justice. Dr. Graham was beautiful, probably the most beautiful man he’d ever seen; messy brown curls, square jaw with a brush of facial hair, large blue eyes, sharp cheekbones that Hannibal had the strongest urge to run his thumb across. 

“I can be very convincing,” Those icy eyes slid to Hannibal with poorly disguised indifference. “Whose this?” 

How interesting. 

He stepped up beside Frederick and tilted his head in greeting. “Good morning, Doctor Graham. I’m Doctor Hannibal Lecter.” 

Will stood from his cot, letting Dante’s Inferno hit the concrete floor, as he stepped towards the glass. He was tall, maybe a few inches shorter than Hannibal himself, and slightly more slender. But he could tell there was muscle hidden under that hideous green jumpsuit. 

“Doctor Lecter was generous enough to come down here today for a therapy session.” 

Will raised a dark eyebrow. “Come to psychoanalyze me, doctor? Did he tell you what happened to the last shrink he sent down here?” 

Frederick turned bright red. “Now, Will—“

“You didn't tell him?” Will clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I’m not sure that’s ethical Dr. Chilton. He should know what he’s getting into, after all.” 

“Did you murder your last psychiatrist, Dr. Graham?” Hannibal asked, desperate to have the boy's attention on him again. 

Will’s eyes shot to Hannibal. “I sliced his achilles tendon with a fountain pen.” 

Hannibal could feel the thick vines of obsession taking root in his stomach and growing tight around his heart. This boy was magnificent. A god amongst men left to rot in a cage. 

“I suppose I’ll keep my fountain pens at home during our sessions.” 

Will’s responding smile is almost feral. “Party pooper.” He turned back to Chilton. “Fine. I’ll do a few sessions, but not today. He can come back tomorrow.” 

Frederick sputtered angrily, clearly seeing the declaration for what it was: a power play. Will was allowing Hannibal to become his psychiatrist. He was taking control the only way he knew how.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, then.” 

Chilton looked like Hannibal had slapped him but Will looked pleased. 

“I’m looking forward to it, doctor.” He purred, letting his eyes trail down Hannibal’s body slowly. 

Hannibal was already counting down the minutes until they could see each other again. 

Chapter Text

“Stay behind the line. Do not pass him anything, not even paper. If he attempts to pass you anything, alert the nearest guard. Your conversation will be recorded and reviewed by a staff member so if Graham makes any threats of bodily harm or mentions anything about an escape, the premises will be locked down and your interview will be over. Understood?” 

Hannibal nodded at the gruff orderly, who appeared to have made this speech about Will Graham several times before. He couldn’t help but be terribly curious about the others that came before him. How many incidents had to happen for these specific rules to be created? 

A thick manila folder was pushed into his hands and the orderly nodded. “Good luck, Dr. Lecter.” 

There was a loud buzzing, then the door to the maximum security wing creaked open. Hannibal kept his head high while the vulgar inmates from last time continued to shout their profanity at him. He almost scoffed at the lack of originality. These prisoners were brutes. At least the inmates that babbled incoherently about God and the devil provided some form of actual entertainment. 

When Hannibal finally reached Will’s cell, he bit back the smile threatening to break through. Will no longer had a book and was instead laying on his cot with his eyes closed and his fingers laced behind his head. His legs were propped up, one crossed over the other, and his foot was moving along to a tune only he could hear. 

Hannibal took the seat that had been placed behind the glaring red line painted onto the floor, crossed his ankle over his knee and began flipping through the folder. 

The first page was basic information he knew already, thanks to his association with Jack Crawford; height, weight, birthplace, even his blood type. Hannibal was far more interested in the following pages. Frederick’s notes. 

02/21/2014-Patient claims to have pure empathy, unclear if that diagnosis is true or manufactured by the patient as a manipulation tactic. 

03/02/2014-Violent incident today. Patient bit through orderly Matthew Brown's mouth and cheek. Eye witness reports state that the patient forced Matthew Brown to swallow the chunks of his own flesh before snapping his arm in half. I will attempt to interview the patient on the inciting incident for this attack but the patient hasn’t spoken a word since he’s been taken to the infirmary. 

03/14/2014-Patient is unresponsive after violent incident with orderly Matthew Brown. My recommendation to cure him of this silence is electroshock therapy. I believe the patient could benefit from this sort of therapy both in regards to his violent tendencies and empathy diagnosis. 

03/20/2014-The first session of electroshock therapy was a success. The patient has now resumed normal speech although the patient still refuses to speak about the violent incident in detail. 

Hannibal’s lip curled in disgust. In part because Frederick has been so reckless as to leave a paper trail of his unconventional therapy but also the ham-fisted attempt at treatment. Electroshock therapy would turn Will’s beautiful brain into soup. And if that happened, Hannibal would have to kill Frederick. 

God knows what other sorts of therapy he’s doing behind closed doors. Will is lucky Hannibal found him before he ended up as a brain dead vegetable. 

“Back for more Dr. Lecter? I’m surprised.” 

Hannibal looked up to find Will standing next to the glass, watching him closely with those sharp eyes. 

It seemed in the twenty-four hours since Hannibal had last seen Will, he’d forgotten what a heady drug it was to have the man focus wholly on him; no more Frederick buzzing at his side to ruin the moment and pull Will’s attention. 

He almost felt lightheaded.  

“You’ll learn that I am a man of my word.” 

Will snorted. “Then you’re a rare breed, doctor.” 

“I’d have to agree with you in that respect. I find fewer and fewer people keep their promises these days.” 

“What a cynical view to have of the world. Do you have some trust issues, doc? Did someone close let you down and now you’re jaded?” 

“I believe we’re all disappointed by those we love sooner or later.” 

Will tilted his head to the side and Hannibal couldn’t shake the image of a predator playing with its food. “Who let you down, doctor? Was it your mother? It’s always the mother.” 

“Would you like to discuss your mother, Dr. Graham?” 

Will bared his teeth in what Hannibal assumed was meant to be a smile. “That’s some lazy psychiatry, Dr. Lecter. And I’m pretty sure they stripped me of my doctorate when I was declared legally insane and sentenced to life in this shitbox.” 

“And how does that feel, to be declared legally insane?” 

“These are all very softball questions, doctor. I’m shocked, given your reputation.” 

“My reputation?” 

Will nodded, his curls bouncing against his neck as he did so. Hannibal wanted to bury his fingers in them and pull.

“I wasn’t always in prison, you know. We’ve run in the same circles for a while.” 

Hannibal was intrigued. He was so intrigued he almost missed the obvious bait for what it was: a distraction. Will didn’t want a therapy session and was willing to stroke Hannibal’s ego to get out of it. Clever boy. 

He would bite, if only to gain more of Will’s favor. “And what is my reputation according to our shared social circle?” 

Will smirked. “Are you sure you want to play this game? Most people don’t like it.” 

“I think we have established that I am not most people.” 

Will hummed in agreement. “You’re a bit of a snob but somehow exasperatingly polite. More of a tough love sort of psychiatrist rather than one who coddles their patients. A former surgeon. I even heard that you were a count or a duke or something, is that true?” 

Hannibal couldn’t help but notice Will was relaying gossip, not his actual analysis of him. Interesting. He was so curious to know what the man himself thought of him but there would be other times for that conversation. 

“Technically, yes, I am a count. But those sorts of titles hardly matter anymore, especially in America.” 

“I’ve also heard about your very exclusive dinner parties. I almost went to one, you know.” 

Hannibal was nearly dizzy at that idea. He could see it now; Will Graham scowling in the corner of his home while the rest of Hannibal’s acquaintances unsuccessfully vye for his attention. His sole focus would be on the man brooding in the corner because how couldn’t it be? A beautiful, angry Botticelli angel in the flesh standing before him would be too much temptation to ignore. 

And when Will ate the dish Hannibal so carefully prepared? He might have never let the boy leave. 

“Oh? I don’t remember extending you an invitation.” 

“I would have been Alana Bloom’s plus one. I always was back in those days. Until she met Margot.” 

There was a hint of bitterness in his tone that had Hannibal’s blood boiling. Were Will Graham and Alana Bloom once involved? He sincerely hoped not, otherwise he might have to cut off Dr. Bloom's hands for ever daring to touch something that wasn’t hers. And considering that he sincerely enjoyed her company, it would be a noticeable loss in his social circle. 

Still, he couldn’t help but pour salt in the wound. 

“Ah, yes, Dr. Bloom. I hear she’s on her honeymoon with Miss Verger as we speak.” 

“So she is,” Will muttered. “Did you go to the wedding?” 

“I did.” He’d even bought them a decorative vase from their wedding registry. It was hideous but it would have been rude to arrive without a gift in hand. 

Will’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “So you met Mason, then.” 

Hannibal had known Mason Verger before the wedding; an unfortunate side effect of being a part of the inner circles of the Baltimore elite. The man was crass and rude and to make matters worse, loud. Hannibal had never enjoyed Mason’s company like he did his sisters and often found himself fantasizing about the ways he would flay the young man alive every time he opened his mouth. 

When he heard about young Mr. Verger's accident, he smiled. 

“I’ve known Mr. Verger for quite some time before the wedding but, yes, he was there.” 

“Is his jaw still wired shut? Or what’s left of it, anyway?” 

“Yes.” It was the most enjoyable time Hannibal had ever spent with the young man. 

“It’s unfortunate, what happened to him,” Will continued. His words were contradicted by the utter glee on his face. “Can you imagine that? Being mauled by pigs?” 

Oh, this beautiful, wicked boy. Hannibal desperately wanted to dig through his brain just to see what other secrets he could find hidden within. 

“Were you and Mr. Verger close?” 

“Hardly,” Will snorted. “We only met a few times before his accident.” The permanent smirk on his face grew wider. 

There was something else Will was hiding, lurking just beneath the surface waiting to come out. Based on the expression on his face and the elation he showed towards Mason’s predicament, Hannibal would wager that the Verger heir's accident was less accidental than everyone believed. 

Knowing what he knew about Will Graham, he wouldn’t lash out like that without cause. Which could only mean one thing. Hannibal always had an inkling about Mason Verger and now his suspicions were confirmed thanks to dear Will. 

He wanted to press more but with Frederick listening in, he couldn’t risk it. He chose a safer path instead, one that would distract Frederick from the Mason Verger subject entirely. 

“Tell me, Will, how did Dr. Bloom react when she learned of your crimes? I gather you two were quite close. It must have been quite a shock for her.” 

Will’s expression soured, he began tapping his fingers rapidly against the glass. “She said she was relieved.” 

“Relieved that you were a killer? That doesn’t seem like Dr. Bloom.” 

Will’s eyes flashed. “She said they all thought I was the Chesapeake Ripper. She was relieved that I wasn’t a cannibal on top of being a serial killer. Then she slapped me.”  

While this new revelation of Alana Bloom's skewed moral compass was certainly interesting, he couldn’t help but focus on his moniker coming out of Will Graham's mouth. 

“Why would Dr. Bloom believe that you are the Ripper? If I recall correctly, he has been operating in Maryland before you even joined the FBI.” 

There was a tension in Will’s shoulders that wasn’t there before but the smirk returned. “I think that’s enough for today. Don’t you agree, Doctor?” 

Hannibal knew, without checking his watch, that they had hit an hour. Likely on the dot. He wanted to protest, but Will Graham had drawn his line in the sand and Hannibal was going to respect his boundaries. 

At least for now. 

He stood and buttoned his suit jacket while Will watched, his head tilted once again. Predatory, studying. 

“When shall I see you again?” 

A brief look of shock flitted across Will’s face before the carefully created mask was back. “Are you asking when I’ll be available? I’ll have to check my calendar, I’m just so busy these days.” 

“These are your sessions, Will. We will schedule them based on your needs.” 

Will stared at him, the smirk now gone and replaced with a painfully neutral expression. But Hannibal knew better. He could see the game of cat and mouse unfolding between them. The only question was, who was the cat and who the mouse? 

It was unsettling to realize he wasn’t quite sure. 

“Don’t come back till next Monday. Same time.” 

Will was testing him, seeing just how far he could push Hannibal before Hannibal would push back. That was fine. He was a patient man. He could wait weeks, months even, if it meant getting Will to open up to him. 

“As you wish. I will see you on Monday, Will.” 

“Goodbye, Dr. Lecter.” 

***

“Certainly you’re joking. You cannot be serious!” 

Hannibal watched Frederick with a raised brow, utterly unamused at this man's tone. “I assure you, I am not.” 

Frederick scoffed and a small vein in his forehead bulged. “That session was nonsense! Talking about the Vergers, your dinner parties! You called him doctor!” 

“He is a doctor.” 

Frederick stood from his chair, slamming his fists against his desk. “What a colossal waste of time this was! What do you propose I write my book about, Dr. Lecter? Will’s tenuous relationship with the Vergers? Or perhaps what recipe you’re serving at your next get together?” 

“I’m establishing rapport.” 

“You’re letting him push you around!” 

Hannibal buried the urge to smash the man's face into his desk. “It is important for Will to feel in control of this situation. The more control he feels, the more he will open up. And is that not what you wanted this entire time?” 

“I wanted something usable. Instead, I got you two dancing around each other and talking like you’re writing for the society pages.” 

“Be patient, Frederick. Will Graham is a very particular man. It will take more than one conversation for him to reveal his secrets.” 

Frederick glared at him for a moment before letting his shoulders droop in defeat. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I believe I am. I suppose I’ll see you next Monday, yes?” 

“I suppose so.” Frederick grumbled. 

Hannibal left Fredericks office feeling supremely satisfied, despite the irritation Chilton had caused. How could he be anything less than ecstatic when he had an upcoming appointment with Will Graham? The week would pass by slowly but it would be worth it in the end. 

Will Graham would be his, one way or another.