Chapter Text
Hello. Will Graham here. Though where is here. I ask people, but no one will tell me where I am. So I cycle through my memories, what memories I have to put together the puzzle.
And all I can think is I am sitting in a room and there he is, all put together, his voice coaxing me out of my shell. The shell I have worn for everyone else for as long as i can remember. Coaxing me into the light of truth. His and mine. Where we could forge a new place together. And I do. Staring into his eyes I bare my soul to him little by little.
I have nothing but fragments now. But they say I cannot have him. He is wild and a beast. A force of evil. Would i give up my soul to sit at his table?
But he is always there in my head purring, you cannot me. You and I are the same. And in the upper planes, we will always together.
Today I woke up in the field next to my house covered in blood, with a small cayote on my lap, limp. Funny. I just dreamed I tore a cayote up with my hands and knife, Blood pooling out of it, and here it is. Did that really happen? I killed in my sleep?
I gently set the animal down on the dirt, burying it quickly. Then jogging back to the house.
Jack could be here anytime to come take me away. So I clean myself up quick. As though I was just the same person as ever before. And it's not that hard to do. I believe it myself.
There is a small lump of dirt bulging out the ground near the house as Jack and I drive away. I watch it grow small in the distance, as Jack focuses on the road.
~
Jack takes me to a man who has carved wings out of the flesh of people to watch over him. Angels. Peace in the sight of death. Peace and horror together. I can hear the room screaming, but he was resting soundly.
But no one but me seems to be able to hear the cries. Coming out of the walls, the floors, everywhere. Their ghosts circling around me, trying to strangle me, cut off my air.
I am pushing my hands in the air to get them off of me, they are sobbing, but the sound is also mixed with relief. His. He found redemption in their cries, and could rest.
I lay on the bed and from here I feel the decay inside me, eating me alive, which is his cancer. Loss of control, a universal fear. But now he has found peace, while other ghosts are left screaming. Was it worth it?
I have never been so angry at Jack as i am today. I can't do this anymore. I can't. I have to get out of this, or else.
~~
In Hannibal's office. Hannibal's facing Will, chair faces each other, confronting.
"What purpose do these violent instincts serve?" says Hannibal.
"I don't have violent instincts."
"If you don't get at the bottom of what is the cause, something terrible may happen," Hannibal let's that linger. "You may get overwhelmed with these and act out on them."
"And you'll help me from this?"
"Maybe. I'm not really sure yet. Would you tell me your dark fantasy?"
"Will you tell me yours?"
"No. I am here to talk about you, not me. That is what is appropriate in a therapist client relationship?"
"Have you ever crossed boundaries on a therapist client relationship?"
"No."
Will stares at Hannibal, but he doesn't budge. Will turns his head and breaks contact.
"Do you think I'll get better?"
Will says sadly.
"I think so. But only time will tell. It always does. Will draw me a clock."