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Will looked up when he heard the doorknob lower and the voices behind the door becoming louder. He got up from the waiting room chair while the doctor greeted his patient.
"See you on Saturday, Mr. Adler. Contact me if you need. I always respond to urgent requests from my patients."
"Thank you," a mature man with short hair replied. " See you on Saturday, doctor. "
They shook hands, and Mr. Adler turned around and walked away. His footsteps wandered down the hall and the front door slammed. Hannibal looked at Will. A smile could be seen in his eyes as Will, his gaze shifting as usual, turned his attention to the office door.
The doctor backed away to let him in. He closed the door, and the click of the handle resounded.
"Good evening Will. How do you feel? "
He adjusted his suit, buttoning up his jacket. Will sat on the bench in front of the chair Hannibal usually occupied. He put his glasses down next to him and let out a sigh. The doctor sat down and crossed his legs with elegance.
" I'm fine. Well, I think I'm doing okay. "
Hannibal raised an eyebrow and tilted his head.
" I see." He clasped his hands together. "You are visibly tired, how is the investigation going? "
Will was staring at a point behind the psychiatrist's chair. He blinked.
"To be honest, Jack isn’t making any headway. There is nothing we can do, and the victim's family is putting pressure on us. I do not really understand why, their daughter died, they can wait a little longer." He replied, moving his jaw. "In addition, the opinions of the team differ from mine. "
Hannibal seemed interested.
"And does it make you upset? Waiting is a source of frustration. As for the suspect, he is a celebrity according to what Doctor Bloom told me."
"Yes," the professor said. "Everything is more complicated when it is a well-known person."
"In this case, it slows down the stages of the investigation, and opinions diverge because most people are no longer objective. "
Will nodded. The psychiatrist looked at him attentively, as he did during each appointment.
" It's fascinating. Each human brain is different. The physiology is the same, but the connections are divergent. Objectivity is just a matter of perspective, for some people. "
Will smiled, amused by the ease with which Hannibal drifted off to another subject. The latter stood up, still serious. He went to a corner of the room where a cabinet containing a few bottles was. He lifted one, read the label, and poured himself a glass, holding it gently. He turned around.
" Do you want to drink something?"
" No thanks." Will shook his head.
Hannibal put it all away and sat down at his desk, bringing his glass with him. He then began to sort out the very few unclassified papers. The curly-haired man vaguely watched his long fingers place the files in a meticulous order.
“Let's talk about this other case, the one of Baltimore. Still no leads?"
"No." He sighed again and massaged his forehead. "The solution is slipping away from me. No matter how much I put myself into the killer's skin, the personality remains incomplete and hardly understandable. I lean towards a personality disorder, which would explain the differences in behavior, while the team thinks that multiple people acted together. "
The doctor looked up from his papers.
"A personality disorder? Interesting. The crime is complex. Personally, I had thought of multiple people with similar thoughts. From the same family, or who share the same way of thinking. "
Will straightened up a bit and looked slightly impressed. The doctor had followed the same path of thought than him when he saw the crime scene for the first time.
Hannibal perceived this look. He tilted his head forward. Each gesture calculated, the reactions of his interlocutor analyzed.
"I only extrapolated a little, nothing useful for you, I guess. "
"Your opinion is always precious to me." Coming from Will, that sentence was a real compliment.
The professor massaged his neck, wincing. He was tired and the late meeting was not helping. Hannibal had finished his cleaning up and was turning a black pen between his hands, his gaze fixed on him.
"How's Doctor Bloom?"
"Fine." Will replied, fidgeting a little on the bench. " She’s fine." He bowed his head.
This behavior did not escape the psychiatrist.
"Are you still close? Work takes you away from each other, am I wrong? "
Will winced. Sensitive subject. He suddendly got up and went to the shelves full of books, his back turned to the doctor.
"Let's say we never really got close." He stopped there and Hannibal knew he wouldn't go any further tonight.
He touched his forehead, unconsciously, a second time.
"Do you need medicine? Maybe we can stop the session there, if you're not feeling well, Will."
"Everything's fine, Doctor Lecter. It's light, it will pass. "
But Will was already regretting his answer and was having a little trouble thinking. He suspected he had some fever. The consultation wouldn't last long anyway, he would be going home soon.
He couldn't help but think of this complex murder case. A group of people or just one? The uncertainty was driving him crazy. Everything was driving him crazy. He had been having an intermittent migraine since the morning, had slept badly and had been having foggy thoughts. Not a very good day.
Hannibal noted that the professor's fingers were shaking a little. On the verge of a crisis? Or had it become his normal state now? He could almost see the cogs of this incredible mind spinning.
"To be honest, I live with the permanent feeling of evolving in a dream. "
The doctor took his time to stood up and replaced a clipboard alongside his diary.
"The notion of reality is only a matter of point of view."
"And you pretend to want to help me distinguish the true from the false by telling me that? " Will replied smiling, his eyes still staring into space.
Hannibal smiled a little too.
"Well, your reality, Will, goes through your imagination. From this, the frontier between reality and dream is blurred. A fascinating way of thinking if you ask me. "
Will was hot, and was starting to sweat. His headache was pulsing under his forehead, but the remark amused him. The doctor walked without a noise in his direction across the room, his hands in the pockets of his flawless suit.
"From what I have seen, you are not outdone. Your hypothesis is interesting. Although it is false. "
Even in the state of exhaustion in which Will was, he was still who he was: haughty and clearly aware of his mental abilities. A misty mind, but one that always saw more than other men. He ran a hand through his hair. Hannibal stopped behind him, standing straight, staring at the still trembling fingers.
“Your consciousness is still there, you know where you are and who you are. When you have a seizure, you no longer remember this information. This means that, if you don't remember, your imagination has taken over. If it still happens, let me know."
"Understood." Will shivered. He certainly had a fever, as he thought. Hannibal leaned forward behind his back.
"I would like to ask you a question, Will. "
He leaned a little more, enough to smell the professor, who had frozen.
"Reality is a dream in which you evolve,"
Will could almost feel the doctor's breath on his neck.
"But is it a nightmare or a pleasant dream?" Hannibal whispered, bringing his face to the exposed skin of Will's neck.
Gentle, he kissed the skin, and Will violently shivered.