Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Will trudged down the hall towards Jack’s office. The sound of his footsteps was uneven and paired with the muted sound of the cane he used.

He was used to the pain. He knew his students liked to compare him to Doctor House from television, because of the cane and his surly attitude, but he had little affection for that particular adaptation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s character, and had stolidly refused to risk an addiction to painkillers. Five years after the accident, and Will got through most days on nothing more than a few aspirin and the occasional glass of whiskey in the evening.

Will had been summoned to Jack’s office, a classic power play because Jack knew walking would hurt him. If it had been anything less serious, he would have come to Will’s classroom or office to ask for his help. The pain would be a motivator because Will wouldn’t want it to have been in vain and he would have less energy to argue.

Will knew what Jack would be asking him. He was aware of what cases the man had on his desk, and knew which the most pressing would be. He was going to agree to help, he knew that as well, but he fully intended to make Jack work for it.

Jack already had company. That surprised Will, but not enough for him to lose his edge at all.

The man stood tall and straight, impeccable in a three piece suit with a brightly colored window pane pattern. Will was impressed the man could look so comfortable and in place, wearing such a getup. He didn’t look like anyone Will would usually choose to meet.

“Will,” Jack said, catching sight of Will as he stepped through the doorway, “thank you for coming.”

Will grunted a greeting and hobbled to the desk in order to drop himself into one of the chairs, gripping his cane by the shaft, as if he intended to bludgeon someone with it.

Depending on how this went, it might be a temptation.

Jack sighed. He wasn’t surprised by Will’s attitude, but he wasn’t pleased with it either.

“Will, this is Doctor Lecter. He’s a psychiatrist, and he’s going to help us on the case.”

Will glanced up at the dandy, keeping the frame of his glasses blocking direct eye contact. He could see that Lecter was watching him with clear curiosity, but Will thought he knew better than to expect a friendly greeting. He hadn’t stepped closer or offered a hand.

“Forgive me for not standing,” Will sneered, “I have to recover as well as I can for the walk back to my classroom. Can we please get on with this?”

Jack sighed softly, offering Lecter an apologetic shrug.

“Alright. I want to warn you both that this case is serious, and disturbing. You need to prepare for-”

“It’s the damned Chesapeake Ripper, Jack,” Will interrupted, tapping his cane on the floor impatiently, “any adult person in the area who isn’t already familiar with the case is either an idiot or an optimist. Neither of which are helpful to you, so I assume Lecter isn’t one. Just get on with it.”

Jack pressed his lips together. He had clearly been hoping Lecter’s presence would convince Will to behave himself.

Will’s leg was aching, and he didn’t have the patience for any of it. He wanted to distract himself from the pain by getting to work on the case. He couldn’t do that if Jack hedged around it for hours.

“Alright,” Jack said, handing Will a file folder, “here’s everything the news couldn’t tell you. Every scene since the first, and every bit of evidence we’ve found. Freddie Lounds would give her teeth to see this, so I’m sure you’ll both be discreet.”

Lecter nodded amenably, sitting in the chair beside Will. Jack handed him a file identical to Will’s.

“Of course, Jack,” he said, “As a psychiatrist, discretion is habitual.”

Will snorted softly in derision, opening the file and beginning to flip through. Most of it was stuff he already knew, either from seeing it on Tattlecrime or from filling in the blanks. Nothing there surprised him.

“What are your thoughts on the killer, Will?” Lecter asked, turning towards him with an open and expectant expression.

Will raised an eyebrow, looking up at his chin.

“We’ve only just got the file, and you expect me to have a profile?” he asked.

Lecter raised his own eyebrow in response, as if Will was being unreasonable.

“I believe you have had at least a partial profile ready since the moment you walked in the door of this office. Likely long before. Nothing you see there seems to have surprised you.”

Despite himself, Will was impressed and slightly flattered. Lecter didn’t seem perturbed by his mood, and had clearly been paying attention. He was intelligent, which was more than Will could say for most people he dealt with on a daily basis.

Will flipped his file shut and turned in his seat to face Lecter more fully. His cane tapped the leg of his chair as he shifted, but he paid it no mind. He was curious about Lecter now, though he had made up his mind before to ignore him as best he could.

“The Ripper has been around for years,” Will began, tapping his fingers along the body of his cane, “he’s not about to be caught by us unless he so chooses. He never leaves any evidence we can use to catch him. All we have for this case is profiling. That’s why Jack’s so desperate to get both our minds on it.”

Lecter had also turned his body towards Will as he spoke, listening intently. Jack was resigned to his fate of listening to them discuss the case in this manner. He was listening, but with a passive type of acceptance. Will wanted to test Lecter, see what kind of mind Jack had decided they needed here, when he already had Will.

“He’s high brow, white collar, educated. History as a surgeon, but he’s probably moved on by now. I expect he’s still working closely with people, possibly in some sort of therapy. He will put himself in a position of power, where he can influence those he works with. He’s also a lover of fine arts and beautiful things. He appreciates classical literature, and he’s probably well traveled as well. Sound familiar, Doctor? Where’s your accent from?”

Jack shifted, as if about to stop Will from doing this, but Lecter shook his head gently to him and smiled at Will.

It was infuriating, but terribly fascinating.

“Lithuania,” Lecter said, “It’s true that I do fit the profile remarkably well. Do you wish to investigate me? You are welcome to search my home and office if you must. I have nothing to hide.”

Will scoffed.

“Everyone has something to hide. The people who say they have nothing to hide usually have the darkest secrets. You shouldn’t tempt fate like that, Doctor. If you’re the Ripper, I’d be disappointed in your adherence to a stereotype, inserting yourself into the investigation. I don’t think the Ripper would be so foolish.”

Lecter smiled. As of yet, he was only amused by Will despite how rude and unpleasant he was being. If anything Will had done or said had even touched on annoying him, he didn’t show it.

Will wondered how long that would last.

“What does he do with the organs?” Lecter asked, tapping the list of missing organs from each of the victims with one long and elegant finger, “you understand their character so well, you must have some idea.”

Will scowled at the man, displeased with the question. He had a few theories, one he liked better than the rest, but he didn’t want to share them with Jack just yet. He didn’t want to give him so much all at once. He wanted to spread it out, trickle in the information he had, so Jack would slowly give him more and more access and trust with the case.

Lecter was putting him in a difficult spot, then. If Will didn’t share his theories, Jack’s faith in him might suffer. He would seem less knowing than he really was, and anything Lecter might guess would hold more weight with Jack. Will didn’t like that at all.

If Lecter had done it on purpose, he could not have done it more effectively. Will wondered.

“Why don’t you throw a guess out and I’ll tell you if you’re right,” Will shot back, and this time Jack did intervene.

“Will,” he snapped, “you could at least try to work together with Doctor Lecter. I need both of you in order to catch this one.”

Will would have liked to argue with him about that, but he thought having Lecter wouldn’t do anything but make this all more entertaining for himself. He wouldn’t mind having someone around who he could mess with. If Lecter pushed back a little, all the more exciting.

So Will took a deep breath, as if trying to calm himself down.

“Fine. Teamwork it is. The motto of the FBI. Because Jack Crawford, head of the BAU, would never encourage solo work.”

Will stared at Jack coldly, and watched as the man bit his tongue against a retort or admission of guilt.

Maybe it was cruel of Will to bring up Miriam. It had been cruel of Jack to make him walk all this way just to get a file and be introduced to a Lithuanian dandy. Will was making Jack pay for the help he would get.

—

The crash had been serious, but not bad enough to land Will in a coma. He had been badly concussed and his legs had been shattered. He was covered in scars from both the collision and the surgeries he’s needed in the aftermath. Pain would be a constant companion until he died, and walking with a cane was more of an inconvenience than anyone without one would readily believe. So field work was supposed to be entirely off the table.

That apparently wouldn’t stop Jack. Jack had asked for Will’s opinion on a few cases in the past five years, and had him consult on a fair few as well, but they had all been small and easy cases. At least as far as Will was concerned. Nothing more than puzzles to keep him entertained.

Will had wanted the Ripper case, if he would be perfectly honest, but he would rather die than ask Jack for it. So he had waited. He had known the Ripper wouldn’t let himself be caught, so it was only a matter of time before Jack would come to Will. Jack knew Will was good. Better than anyone else they had.

Will thought he could probably catch the Ripper. That was the hell of it. He knew it was proud and vain of him, but he also thought he was the Ripper’s match, their intellectual equal. But he didn’t want the game to end too soon. It would most certainly cost lives, probably more than a few, but Will intended to get his fill of entertainment before he would put the Ripper behind bars.

Doctor Hannibal Lecter was a wrench in the machine, though. Will didn’t know what his involvement might do for these plans.

Chapter Text

Doctor Lecter haunted the doorway of Will’s classroom for the last fifteen minutes of the lecture, not interrupting, but making his presence known so Will would be hard pressed to ignore him when the students had left and they were the only two left in the room.

Will idly mused over whether Lecter would give him this advanced warning if he were not confident in his ability to outpace Will in a chase. It was comical, imagining himself hobbling down the hall as fast as he could, while the prim doctor hurried behind, not so much as out of breath, but clearly exasperated. It was almost tempting, except for the immense pain he would have to go through to do it.

The lecture came to an end with Will setting an assignment for the students, and they began to file out. His leg was aching, but he didn’t take an aspirin. The pain would help to ground him and keep him from falling for any psychiatrist tricks Lecter might try. Hopefully.

“Hello, Will,” Lecter said smoothly, as if they were friendly, “I hope you are doing well.”

Will snorted and tapped his cane against the desk, stretching his legs out with a wince.

“As well as can be expected,” he replied, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Lecter smiled, likely thinking Will must be in a better mood today than at their last meeting. He was bound to be disappointed. Will was raised southern, but pain went a long way to untraining manners.

“As you have not contacted me yet, I took it upon myself to inquire if you would like to work on the profile.”

Ah. So that was it. Lecter wanted to do what Jack had asked them to, and he was frustrated that Will hadn’t been the first to reach out. Will wondered if he knew Will had the next several hours free, or had just come to schedule some time they would meet again to talk about the case.

“Do you have something to add to what I said?” Will asked, “maybe something that doesn’t sound exactly like you?”

Amusement flickered over Lecter’s features, puzzling Will further.

“How did you know of my background in surgery?” he asked, “Jack did not tell you, and I don’t believe you had the opportunity to research me.”

Will smiled wryly. Lecter was trying to flatter him, in this roundabout way. Get Will to show off so he could feel proud of himself.

“Would you believe me if I said I had no idea, but your failure to object told me so?” he asked.

Lecter actually smiled this time.

“No.”

Will huffed a laugh and shook his head. Lecter was more clever than Will would have expected of him. Will wondered how Jack had found him.

“Well, alright then,” Will said, deciding it wouldn’t hurt to show off a little, just this once, “part of it was that you didn’t ask about the crash. Most people ask what happened to me, except smart doctors, who can tell. If they aren’t a surgeon, a doctor will usually see the scars from my surgeries and ask what operations I had done. Since you didn’t ask any of those questions, it wasn’t too big of a leap but your reaction did confirm it for me.”

Lecter nodded, as if he should have guessed as much. It was funny. Will couldn’t remember the last time he’d met someone who might just understand some things about him.

“You make connections others would not,” Lecter said, “I imagine that must be very helpful in your profession.”

Will offered another wry smile.

“Sure is, until someone asks me to explain and I have to spend hours drawing diagrams until they understand.”

Lecter smiled.

“I will refrain from asking for explanations, in that case,” he said, “was your deflection due to not knowing what the Ripper does with the organs, or because you did not want to share your idea with Jack?”

Will studied the man for a moment, turning his cane around in his fingers. He was once more impressed by Lecter’s ability to see more than others. After a moment, he sat forward in his chair, ignoring the complaints from his leg at the change of position.

“I have a theory, but Jack isn’t going to like it,” he said, half the truth, “I try not to tell him anything I’m not at least ninety percent sure of.”

He was about ninety-eight point nine percent sure of this, but he didn’t have to say that. He wasn’t technically lying. Just implying what he wanted Lecter to believe. It was one thing he was really good at.

Lecter nodded in understanding, likely thinking Will was playing politics with Jack, wanting to never be proven wrong. In some ways, Will was, but politics wasn’t his sole motivation. He didn’t care about his position in the Bureau, except that he needed access. No one would give him puzzles to solve if they didn’t think he could do it.

“Would you care to share it with me?” Lecter asked, “so we may both be on the same page where the profile is concerned.”

Will rolled his eyes.

“You know, so far I’ve done all the heavy lifting, and I have a note from my doctor saying I shouldn’t do manual labor. Tell me what you’re thinking about the Ripper, and maybe I’ll tell you what I think he does with the organs.”

In what was now a predictable reaction, Lecter appeared amused by Will’s roughness. He pulled up a chair and sat across the desk from Will, like a student would to go over an essay they thought Will had scored unfairly. Lecter didn’t seem in the mood for an argument, but Will thought he wouldn’t refuse a kind debate.

“The Ripper has no need to insert himself into the investigation, because Freddie Lounds manages to publish all the information he may want. I expect he would like to become involved, as many killers do, but his pragmatism and education keep him from making that mistake. His desires do not govern him in the same way other killers allow theirs to.”

Will nodded along with what Lecter was saying, not impressed by any of it, but pleased none of it was ridiculously inaccurate. Lecter might just prove himself useful.

“Where did Jack pick you up?” Will wondered aloud, “You’re not a profiler, and you’ve never been an agent. I doubt he just happened to stumble across you. I was trying to get a rise out of you by saying you’d inserted yourself into the investigation. I don’t think you came looking for it. Someone must have given him your name, but I can’t figure who.”

Lecter nodded, allowing himself to look impressed. Will had an idea he was very careful with showing emotions, wanting to control how people saw him. That was why his amusement had been the thing Will had seen when almost anyone else would have been fuming with annoyance.

“I believe it was Alana Bloom who recommended me for my services,” he said, “I was her mentor in Johns Hopkins. Jack had asked her to profile you, if I understand correctly, and she refused.”

Will’s own annoyance sparked at that, and he stamped his cane against the floor.

“So that’s what it is,” he said bitterly, “Jack asked you to evaluate my mental state. He’s worried I’m too unstable?”

Lecter tipped his head curiously, as if he hadn’t expected that reaction from Will. It would be funny if that was true, because Will thought he was telegraphing his reactions pretty clearly.

“Do you believe that?” Lecter asked, “honestly?”

Will frowned deeper. Lecter seemed to believe Jack had a more noble reason for wanting to have a psychiatrist come in and evaluate his profiler. As if there was any noble reason to do it behind Will’s back.

“Do you not?” he shot back, having honestly expected more of Lecter.

Lecter was silent for a moment, but he was considering Will, rather than the question.

“Regardless of what Jack thinks, I have formed my own opinion,” he said at last, “I think you are perfectly stable, but would benefit from a supportive presence in your life. Someone who you cannot frighten away with your abrasive attitude and sharp words, who can offer banter and opinions when you are working on a case, and who can see past your roughness to address what you are truly thinking.”

Will furrowed his brow. Lecter was making him sound like a charity case, but somehow wasn’t insulting him. He made it sound as if all that was entirely reasonable, and should be a simple problem to remedy. Again, Will found himself frustrated but fascinated. Frustrated, because he couldn’t quite make himself hate Lecter. Fascinated because he actually was beginning to like him, in a way. That had never happened to him before.

“You think I just don’t have enough friends,” Will said, unwilling to completely let go of his bitterness just yet.

Lecter’s smile gained a harsh glint, like a shark smelling blood in the water.

“I don’t believe you have a single person close enough you would honestly call a friend,” he replied.

Will was completely taken aback. He would have expected Lecter to try to soften the blow at least. Most psychiatrists wouldn’t risk making their patient resent them.

But Lecter didn’t seem to want to treat Will like a patient. That was curious, and made Will wonder what he did want out of this relationship.

“So you expect me to let you in, to become my one and only friend?” Will asked.

Lecter smiled cynically.

“I expect you to work with me on this case, regardless of your personal opinion of me, now that you know what I think.”

Will huffed. Lecter was impressive. He had to admit that.

“Then let’s work,” he said, pulling the file from one of his desk drawers, “I think you might turn out alright for the FBI, even though you’re not a profiler.”

Lecter raised an eyebrow.

“You said you might share your thoughts on the missing organs if I shared my thoughts with you. I feel I have more than met my side of the bargain.”

Will smiled.

What the hell. Might as well.

“He eats them,” he said, “our Chesapeake Ripper is a cannibal.”

Lecter was silent, watching as Will pulled pictures from the file and began arranging them on the desk. Will honestly didn’t know how to expect Lecter to react to this, and he was curious to see. From anyone else, he would have known exactly what they thought about it, but Lecter was managing to surprise him at almost every turn.

“This fits in your profile of the Ripper?” Lecter asked at length, “such an animalistic act, by someone you have so far portrayed as cultured.”

Will nodded, not reacting to it otherwise as he set out the last photo.

“Clearly, the Ripper does not see the victims as his equals, so I doubt he even considers it real cannibalism,” Will said, “to him, it’s just meat. No different than eating a cow or a pig. And it’s not sentimental, despite what media would want us to believe about modern cannibals. He doesn’t consume them out of any affection he feels for them, or a desire to have them with him. If anything, he does it just because he can. To show he truly is superior.”

Lecter was once more studying Will, completely ignoring the case file and pictures on the desk. Will should have expected that by now, especially from a psychiatrist, but he was used to people being interested in the murders and repelled by his abrasiveness. Even Jack preferred to ignore Will’s attitude on behalf of whatever case he wanted solved.

“Then, in your opinion, it is not an animalistic act at all. You might even call it... Elevated.”

Will chuffed and drummed his fingers along his cane again, anxious energy thrumming under his skin. He was enjoying this too much, and he thought Lecter could see it, more likely than not.

“Not when it’s the Ripper, no,” he agreed, “nothing with the Ripper is animalistic. Not that he lets us see, at least. No, the only things we see are his control, his grace, and his elegance. He’s not like other killers.”

Lecter smiled and nodded, sifting through the pictures on the desk.

“You are entirely certain of this,” he said, “you are keeping it from Jack Crawford for some reason other than uncertainty.”

Will thumped his cane against his shoe, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling.

“I can sound certain about anything I want,” he said flatly, “it’s part of my charm. If you plan to go to Jack with this theory instead of me, go right ahead. If he believes you, you get the credit for it. If he doesn’t, you lose all credibility with the bureau and Jack Crawford. Your gamble, Doctor Lecter.”

There was a clear smile in Lecter’s voice when he spoke again, and Will didn’t understand him.

“You are quite reminiscent of a character from television I have only seen recently,” he mused, “I do not indulge much in such shows, but the manners are striking.”

Will rolled his eyes and sighed. Typical.

“Let me guess, the doctor who calls all his patients liars and then cures them from mystery diseases?” he asked.

“No,” Lecter said, surprising Will into looking at him again, “I am not aware of that character. The one I am referring to is an expert in reading body language, particularly in regards to detecting deception.”

Will frowned, quickly flipping through all the television he was aware of and landing on only one possible option.

“Cal Lightman?” he asked, not entirely believing it, “the guy from Lie to Me?”

Lecter smiled, apparently pleased that he had gotten Will to speak with anything other than ire.

“Indeed. You say cutting things in order to get a reaction, so you can observe a subject. You have been trying to shock a reaction out of me since the moment we met. I hope I am being thoroughly entertaining to you.”

Will grinned, despite himself. For the first time since the accident, he wasn’t being compared to a random character who just happened to walk with a cane.

“That there’s a first, Doctor Lecter,” he said, “I can’t say it’s all that much more flattering than being compared to Gregory House, but at least you’re not focusing entirely on my limp and my cane. You’re definitely different, and that’s a break from routine at least. But why are you interested in me? This,” Will gestured between the two of them, “isn’t just obligation to work on the case. You want something from me, or you think you do. What is it?”

Doctor Lecter was pleased, and amused. Those were clear on his face. Will could usually see all the other, nitty gritty little emotions people tried to hide behind the obvious ones. But not with Lecter. Lecter only showed the emotions he wanted others to see. Even to Will.

Lot of good that Cal Lightman comparison was doing him now.

Oh.

Unless Lecter was a psychopath.

Wouldn’t that be interesting.

“Would you believe me if I say that I find you endlessly attractive?”

Will froze.

He hadn’t been expecting that. He had no reason to expect that was it. Even now, he wasn’t sure he could trust it. Looking at Lecter, he couldn’t see anything helpful. He could see Lecter’s interest, but he couldn’t tell if it was professional, psychological, or personal as he claimed. It might even be something else, but he just couldn’t see.

“I don’t know if I can believe anything you say,” Will answered honestly, and he saw a spark of surprise this time, “You think I can read people? Well, I can. That’s my whole schtick. I can read people even when they aren’t there. But you. I don’t know what’s up with you. All I see is a mask. Nothing about you is exactly real, is it? I’ve only ever seen that from psychopaths. Real ones. You can make people see what you want, but underneath it all, you’re empty. Or that’s what you want me to see, specifically.”

Lecter’s smile never wavered. There was something, though, that flashed in his eyes. Will couldn’t quite name it. It was there and gone too fast.

“Do you believe I am a psychopath?”

Will shoved all his papers back into the file and stood, beginning to pack his bag.

“I think you’re something that’s pretending to be a psychopath, pretending not to be. I’m not sure there’s a name for what you are. I need to go get something for lunch. I’ll see you later.”

Will started for the door, grinning to himself as he heard Lecter rise and follow.

“Allow me to cook for you, Will,” Lecter said, “I can’t imagine you’re eager to indulge in the delicacies of the cafeteria here.”

Will snorted, his bag swinging against his hip as he swung the door open. His leg already ached, but he didn’t show it.

“You think you can offer something better?” he asked, “Narcissistic tendencies. Checking off the boxes for my diagnosis?”

Lecter chuckled softly, holding the door for Will and then following him down the hall.

“It’s a bit soon to call me narcissistic, seeing as you have not tried my cooking,” he said, “if you find my confidence unearned, then I will concede to your expertise.”

Will glanced at the man, who was looking at him intensely. He really did want Will to join him for lunch.

What harm could it do?

“Fine. I’ll bite. You driving? I try not to drive more than I have to these days. The leg, you know.”

Lecter grinned widely, and Will thought he was genuinely pleased. Even under the mask, and the shell underneath, he did want Will to go with him.

“It would be my pleasure.”

Chapter Text

Lecter’s place was just as pretentious as the man himself, but at least he didn’t have a lot of stairs. That was what Will thought as they stepped up to the front door and Lecter let them both in. There were only four stairs to the front stoop, and they were shallow things. Will was only in minor agony as he climbed them.

No handrail, though. The bastard.

Lecter had the decency not to comment on Will’s visible pain. Either that or he was saving it for a time when he could use it to his advantage.

Will allowed Lecter to take his coat and hang it up, leaning on his good leg to let the other rest for a moment. Truly, he didn’t consider either of his legs particularly “good”. It was just bad and worse. Limpy and gimpy. Not that he had ever told anyone that. It was one of those little jokes that sounded better in his head.

“Do you have any dietary requirements?” Lecter asked, leading the way further into the house.

Will chuffed, looking around to try to get a better grasp of who this guy was. Or at least who he wanted his guests to believe he was.

“I don’t expect you to present me with anything I won’t eat,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean I’ll know what it is you cook. You have fancier taste than I do.”

Lecter was pleased. At least, he wanted Will to think he was pleased. Will had to be at least half-skeptical of everything he read off the man, given what he had already seen. He didn’t think Lecter was a true psychopath, but he was something entirely new, and Will couldn’t help but be curious about him. It very well might be the death of him, but he was curious.

“Be that as it may, I hope you will enjoy it. Please, take a seat while I prepare our food.”

Will stepped over to the table in the corner of the kitchen, decidedly not embarrassing himself by trying to get onto one of the high bar stools at the island. He could tell just from looking that that would be both a challenge and far too painful to be worth it. He slumped down into one of the chairs, stretching his legs and biting back a groan at the ache.

“You were fucking with me when you said you think I’m attractive, weren’t you?” Will said, hooking the handle of his cane over his shoulder to knead some tension from the muscles there.

Lecter hesitated in his actions, just a moment, long enough for Will to know he had caught him off guard.

“Why would you believe that?” Lecter asked, instead of answering the question.

Tricky.

Will shrugged.

“You don’t like rude people, and I’ve been rude on purpose since the moment we met,” he said, “not to mention, you laid it on pretty thick with that “endlessly” bullshit. People don’t like me on a good day, and we definitely didn’t meet on a good day.”

Lecter nodded thoughtfully, continuing with his work.

“What makes you so sure I dislike rude people?” he asked, again not addressing the actual issue at hand.

Will waved his hand vaguely around.

“It’s obvious,” he said, “but you’re still not answering the question. You’re slippery. Typical psychiatrist.”

Lecter smiled.

“To answer your question, then, no. I was being sincere. I am attracted to intelligence and competence, which you possess in abundance. While I do value courtesy, I am also familiar with the signs of chronic pain. You do not take medication for it.”

Will snorted, rubbing at his thigh and wincing in pain.

“What gave it away? Was it the short temper or the visible pain every time I move my legs? I take aspirin. Sometimes.”

“You fear addiction?”

Will twirled a finger in mocking celebration.

“Give the man a cigar. I’m avoiding hard drugs because I don’t want to become dependent. You’re the real genius between us. Jack should replace me with you, not have us work together.”

Lecter huffed a soft laugh at Will’s sarcastic remarks, and the way the skin around his eyes crinkled made Will inclined to believe it. That didn’t get him any closer to understanding him, though. He didn’t make sense.

“As flattering as the notion may be, I have no desire to replace you, Will. You are entirely unique.”

Will sighed.

“So I guess when Jack asks you to become my therapist, you’re going to decline,” he said, “on account of you finding me oh so attractive and interesting.”

Lecter raised an eyebrow, tipping his head curiously.

“You are certain Agent Crawford intends to make me your therapist?” he asked, “for what reason?”

Will shook his head.

“Oh, no reason. Jack just likes messing with my head. Or, asking other people to mess with my head. He’s of the opinion that I’ve got something wrong with me, and it’s only a matter of time before I break. He wants someone standing by with duct tape for when that happens.”

Will gestured vaguely at Doctor Lecter.

“Happy promotion to handyman.”

Doctor Lecter was enjoying this. Will was basically doing everything in his power to make Lecter dislike him, but Lecter just liked it all. He liked Will. For seemingly no reason.

“When fine china breaks, the cracks are not fixed with something as crude as tape, Will,” he said, carrying two plates over to the table and setting them down, “rather, they are filled with gold in a method called kintsugi. The result is as delicate as before, and the beauty has been accentuated. Jack Crawford sees you as fine china, meant for only special guests. In that case, I will gladly lend my hand for the repairs. It is an artform, and I do enjoy the arts.”

Will considered that. He was surprised, but he wasn’t entirely sure why. Part of it was Lecter’s ability to turn his crude metaphor into something that sounded elegant. Part of it was his desire to do so. There was some element of familiarity, though, as if he knew Lecter in some way. As if they had met before.

“you’re fucking weird.”

Will saw the slight jump of the muscle at Lecter’s jaw, betraying his dislike for crude language. It was a delicious loss of control. Just a touch.

Another thing that was delicious: the food.

“You’re also a good fucking cook.”

The compliment smoothed over the small hurt caused by the swearing. Lecter visibly preened. He was proud of his food.

“Thank you, Will. I’m pleased you are enjoying it.”

Will chewed carefully, studying the other man.

“You know, you still didn’t answer my question. I wish you would stop doing that. It’s irritating.”

Lecter inclined his head, a silent admission to the trick.

“If Agent Crawford asks me to officially serve as your therapist, I will decline, yes,” he said, “However, I believe he will take a slightly different approach. I expect he will sign me on as an official consultant for the cases you work, and encourage a more casual relationship between us.”

Will frowned as he considered that.

He should have thought of it first, honestly. Should have seen it coming. The reason he hadn’t was because it was the second most likely option coming from Jack. Lecter knew something Will didn’t.

“You mean that you’re going to encourage him to take that route,” he accused, “you’re going to offer to be an informant on my fluctuating mental status, which you can only do if you’re not beholden to doctor patient confidentiality clauses. That way, you can claim nothing improper occurred if you do manage to make me like you enough that a relationship develops. Is Jack Crawford just a plaything to you?”

Lecter huffed a soft laugh.

“That question makes sense, seeing as you view me as something masquerading as a psychopath. Is this another attempt to liken me to the Ripper, who sees others as nothing but mere meat?”

Will smiled. He couldn’t help it. Lecter was keeping up with him, which not many people could do. Additionally, he wasn’t offended by any of it. That was entirely unheard of. Will made a career out of offending people and being hated, second to his career for seeing what other people couldn’t. He was good at it. But it wasn’t touching Lecter.

“Psychopaths can be found everywhere. Healthcare and psychiatry are very popular with them. I guess I’d like to make you uncomfortable by making the comparison, but you’re disappointing me.”

Lecter nodded.

“I shall work harder to live up to your expectations.”

Chapter Text

Will hissed as he stretched out his legs, feeling the ache in his bones that never went away. The dogs ran back, all rallying around Max, who had retrieved the tennis ball Will had thrown. They all scrambled up onto the porch to crowd around him, carefully not jostling his legs as he took the ball from Max and chucked it again.

They all took off, and Will sighed. He had a glass of whiskey with him tonight. The walk around Lecter’s house had made the pain flare up and he was aching now.

At least Lecter hadn’t chided him about clearly not being diligent in his physical therapy. Another point for him.

Will didn’t know what to think of Lecter, all in all. He was outwardly charming and intelligent, but there was that aspect of detachment that Will had seen. The emptiness beneath the facade. He didn’t think Lecter was a psychopath. He stood by his earlier statement that Lecter was something unnamed.

It was a bit unnerving that he was so curious. It had been a long time since an actual person had interested him. He had been dying to get on the Ripper case, and that had made all his interpersonal relationships seem boring in comparison.

He was in for some entertainment, now. He had Lecter and the Ripper both to look forward to.

So long as Lecter didn’t try to cause problems.

It might be cause for concern that it looked like Lecter wanted to establish himself as Jack’s trusted source of information when it came to Will’s mental status. If he succeeded, he might eventually hold power over Will, and there was no telling what he would do with that when he had it. Will wasn’t even entirely sure what the man was, much less what he planned to do if he could control Jack’s precious bloodhound.

But Will had an idea that wasn’t the draw, though. There was something about him Lecter found interesting, and it wasn’t his reputation. He didn’t know what yet.

Will took a drink from his glass, humming at the burn of the alcohol and the anticipated relief from the intoxication.

The dogs all bounded back up onto the porch, and this time Zoe had the ball, which made Will smile. She was small, but she had managed to wrestle the ball from the larger dogs and was bringing it back to him with her tail wagging proudly.

Lecter knew Will believed the Ripper was a cannibal. Whether or not he would tell Jack about that theory had yet to be seen, but Will had an inclination that he wouldn’t. Maybe it was his psychopathic mask that made Will think so, since it would be more entertaining for him to keep information to himself. He certainly had no altruistic motivations to act, and Will thought he would be more driven by amusement and entertainment than anything else. He was a man who didn’t want for much.

Maybe that was all Lecter wanted from Will. Entertainment.

Or maybe Will was projecting, because that was what he wanted from both the Ripper case and Lecter.

But Will wasn’t a psychopath.

Neither was Lecter. Not really.

Will tossed the ball again, smiling as the pack of dogs ran after it. He took a long drink from his whiskey and leaned his head back, thinking of many potential outcomes of these games. As with most games, there would be a winner and a loser. Will was in the habit of winning, but he had never faced anyone quite like the Ripper, or quite like Lecter. He was facing them both at once, and that made it all the more dangerous.

What a thrill.

—-

“Agent Graham, do you have some time?”

Lecter had managed to show up exactly at the end of the lecture this time, carrying a bag with him that Will eyed suspiciously. It was his lunch period, and he thought it more likely than not that Lecter had managed to get his schedule from Jack so he could bother him at the best times.

“I have a sneaking suspicion you know I have time right now, Doctor Lecter,” he said, dropping into his chair and grimacing at the pain in his leg.

Lecter walked all the way in, stopping beside Will’s desk and setting the bag down on a clear portion.

“Jack was kind enough to tell me when you take your lunch hour, and I thought you might appreciate something to eat that is not cafeteria food. May I join you for lunch?”

Will’s mouth watered at the idea, because he knew whatever Lecter had in that bag would be miles better than what he could get in the cafeteria. The man was being presumptuous, basically inviting himself to lunch in Will’s lecture hall, but he had come with an offering, and Will was tempted.

“Jack’s really interested in having you be my keeper, huh?” he asked, clearing papers from his desk to make room for the food, “And I haven’t managed to scare you off yet, either.”

Lecter smiled, taking out plates and utensils before unpacking the actual food.

“I worked in an emergency room for several years, Will. Very little scares me these days. By all means, continue trying. How you work to frighten me will allow me insight into how your mind operates, which will please Jack, if nothing else.”

Oh, Lecter was playing dirty. That was interesting, and Will was only too happy to meet him there. Playing dirty was his specialty.

Lecter knew Will didn’t want to give Jack anything if he didn’t have to. That subtle yet clear threat of actually being Jack’s informant, when Will could clearly see that wasn’t why he wanted to prolong this dalliance, was just to see how Will would react.

He was curious what would happen.

Will studied Lecter, accepting the plate when it was offered. It was only just short the display he had made at his home, due entirely to having to make it portable Will assumed. It smelled amazing, and Will was honestly grateful for it. He didn’t do a lot of his own cooking anymore, just because of the time spent standing at the stove or the counter that it required, and he had been getting tired of the cafeteria food.

“You have some kind of grudge against cafeterias?” Will asked, “twice in as many days, you’ve been disparaging about them. No, wait.”

Will chewed his lip, fighting a smile as he considered it.

“No, you’re just overly conscious about what you eat. You’re careful about what you put into your body. You don’t trust hardly anyone to feed you, I bet. At least, that’s what you tell people when they ask.”

Lecter smiled mildly.

“You don’t believe you can see my true motivation, but you can see all the reasons I pretend by?” he asked, “would you believe me if I say those are my honest reasons for cooking for myself?”

Will scoffed.

“Not a chance. I think there’s something else. Maybe you don’t trust others to feed you, but I doubt that. I think...” Will stretched his leg and winced at the pain as he looked for Lecter’s secrets, “I think you like feeding others. But it’s not altruistic. I don’t think you ever do anything without a reason. Even if that reason is just curiosity. Maybe you just like the power you feel when you feed someone, especially when they enjoy it.”

Lecter huffed softly, pleased, as he began to eat his food.

“Some would say that your dedication to scaring me away is akin to biting the hand that feeds. If I wanted to exercise that power over you, wouldn’t you be afraid of the repercussions of your actions?”

Will shook his head, starting to eat as well.

“Nope. Because you’re not upset. Nothing I’ve said to you has actually made you angry, or even annoyed, except when I cursed before I complimented your cooking. But you didn’t hold onto that for long. Maybe because I complimented you. The worst you would do is stop giving me food, which I was clearly surviving without before. You wouldn’t poison it.”

Lecter lifted a brow.

“Why not?” he asked.

Will shrugged.

It wasn’t because he feared being caught. Will was sure he would find something untraceable if he did choose to poison him. Lecter was smart, and he had a lot of practice with medicine. Even if he wasn’t a psychopath or a killer, he wouldn’t be taken down that easily.

Will still didn’t know what he was.

“It would be disrespectful to the food,” he said simply.

Lecter seemed pleased by that answer.

Chapter Text

“I hear you and Hannibal Lecter are getting along.”

Will instantly straightened up, turning to offer his least confrontational smile to Alana Bloom. She was the one psychiatrist that he respected, and even liked. Even though she was the one who had incidentally set Lecter on him, she had refused to evaluate him and he appreciated that.

“As well as we can be, given the circumstances of our meeting,” he answered, choosing not to mention that he had basically accused the man of being a serial killer and in return he had claimed to find Will attractive. “what brings you all the way here today?”

Alana smiled, looking beautiful in a wrap dress and sensible heels. She always looked beautiful, and Will wished he was more of a romantic man whenever she was around. He also wished he wasn’t so obviously broken, so she wouldn’t look at him with such pity all the time.

“I just wanted to check in on you,” she said, coming to a stop on the other side of his desk. Keeping that professional distance she always did. “The case Jack has you on is pretty intense, and I wanted to make sure you’re holding up.”

Will nodded, pressing his lips together as he twirled his cane. That figured. She didn’t stop by for purely social reasons, not anymore. She was just here because she was worried he was going to have a breakdown.

“Well, at least you came right to me instead of trying to circumvent me and ask Doctor Lecter himself. Unless you did, and he didn’t tell you anything. All that doctor-patient stuff.”

Will grimaced at himself. He shouldn’t be rude to her. She didn’t deserve it. Habit. Oops.

“You know I wouldn’t do that, Will,” Alana said, and she sounded mildly hurt, though she had the presence of mind to at least attempt to not hold it against him personally, “but you’re worried. Is it because you think Hannibal is going to tell Jack everything you say to him?”

Will sighed and knocked his cane against his shoe, shaking his head.

“Doctor Lecter doesn’t want to be my therapist,” he said, glancing up to see the confused surprise on Alana’s face, “he wants to be my friend. He thinks I lack genuine connection.”

Will spread his hands, bidding Alana to draw what conclusions she would from that.

Alana let out a long breath, leaning against his desk. She brushed her hair out of her face and offered him a slight shrug.

“If you want me to say I disagree with him, I’m afraid I can’t do that,” she said apologetically, “Unfortunately, I think he’s right. You push people away, because you fear vulnerability. Your time in the hospital, and the lingering effects of your accident made you worry people saw you that way, so you wear emotional armor. In a way, I think you and Hannibal are a lot alike. If you can actually connect to him on an emotional level, it could be really good for you.”

Will snorted, but it came out less derisive than he had intended. Maybe because he liked her too much.

“Exactly what I expected you to say,” he said, “You always look on the bright side. It’s what makes you so easy to like. How well do you know Doctor Lecter?”

Alana blushed, and that gave Will some idea of how well they knew each other. Or, at least, how well Alana believed they knew each other. She wished she knew him better.

“He was my mentor in Johns Hopkins,” Alana said, and the admiration was basically a physical aspect of her words, “He’s my friend, and he’s brilliant.”

Will nodded. He definitely wasn’t going to tell her he thought Lecter was potentially some kind of monster. She wouldn’t appreciate it.

“He does give the impression that he’s used to being the smartest person in a room,” he said, “He’s clever.”

Alana laughed, her light and pretty laugh.

“In most rooms, he is,” she said, “but I don’t know between the two of you who would win. That’s one of the ways I think you two are alike. I’m glad you’re getting along.”

Will offered a smile, but he didn’t feel it. He was a bit on edge, honestly. If he figured out what Lecter was hiding, he didn’t have anyone he was sure would believe him. Jack didn’t trust Will enough, and Lecter was working to earn his trust, and Alana liked Lecter much too much.

“Well, we’ve been put on an impossible case together. Either we’re going to keep getting along, or we’re going to end up killing each other.”

Alana shook her head.

“For your own good, I would suggest you try to play nice,” she said, “you really could use someone you trust.”

Will nodded, but he highly doubted he was going to end up trusting Lecter. Not until he learned what was under his layers of masks. Once he figured that out, stared at the raw core of the man, he would have to decide if what he saw was worth trusting or not. At the moment, even Will’s powerful imagination was coming up empty when he tried to picture what he might find under it all.

“I trust you,” he lied, trying to flatter her.

It worked. She blushed again and laughed. She was beautiful.

“No you don’t,” she said, “but I wish you did. I’ll see you soon, Will.”

And she walked away. Will couldn’t even walk her out, because his pain was flaring up today, and she would look at him like he was broken if he tried to limp alongside her. He hated when she did that.

So he sat, like a useless fool, and watched her leave. He whacked his cane against his shoe a couple of times, hard enough to send a jolt of pain up his leg, before he sighed and set it aside.

At least Alana hadn’t tried to say the Ripper case wasn’t impossible. She was too smart to make claims she didn’t feel educated enough to know for sure. She was as smart as anyone, really, but her optimism often blinded her to reality. She could be fiery if she was crossed, and could hold a grudge as good as anyone, but she was slow to anger and always tried to see the best in people.

Maybe that was why she hadn’t seen that Lecter was just a mask on top of a mask. She saw his charm and intelligence and took it all at face value. Because that’s what she wanted to believe.

She was definitely interested in Doctor Lecter on a more personal level. Will doubted they had ever been romantically involved in the past, but she was still holding out hope that it might happen.

Maybe she had been trying to get with Lecter by referring him to the FBI. If she knew him well, as she certainly believed she did, she would know he would find it interesting and entertaining, which he seemed to find strong motivators. Any psychiatrist with access to Will would be tempted to use him as a bargaining chip in that way, though he had thought she was above it. He could at least be glad she hadn’t sold him to someone like Fredrick Chilton, if she had decided to sell him to anyone in return for romantic feelings or regard.

He was almost sorry for her, in that case. That kind of thing really was beneath her. She shouldn’t be trying to impress some dandy who didn’t care about her. Because it was clear to Will that Lecter didn’t care about her, at least not in that way.

No, he was too busy trying to flirt with Will, who he had no reason to be attracted to. Will didn’t understand him yet, but he hoped Alana wouldn’t end up hurt by him. Hopefully, she would never know that Hannibal had tried to flirt with Will. She might feel betrayed by both of them if that happened. It would sting, for her to realize she was the reason they had met, and in that way she had created a new obstacle for what she wanted without even knowing it. 

This entire situation was fucked, but Will would be damned if it wasn’t intriguing. He wasn’t sure if it was all due to Lecter, or if his interest in the Ripper case was compounding his interest in the guy who had appeared with it.

Lecter could be useful, if not just entertaining. Psychopaths think differently than other people, so he might have valuable insight into the Ripper case. If Will could just get him to share those ideas. So far, he seemed far more interested in getting things out of Will. Will would have to be on his guard every time Lecter was around.

Alana thought they were alike. Will wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On the surface, they couldn’t be more different. Lecter was refined, and Will was anything but. He doubted the only reason she thought they were alike was because they were both intelligent. She knew plenty of smart people.

Will would have to ask her. Next time he saw her.