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Will Graham prefers isolation. It’s the reason he lives in the middle of nowhere and gets a monthly unemployment check from the FBI. It’s the reason he’s so surprised when his phone wakes him up at three in the morning, blaring loudly from the nightstand beside his bed.
Still dazed, he reached for it and wiped the sleep out of his eyes before looking at the caller ID. His stomach dropped to his feet as he registered who it was and flipped the phone open quickly. “Jack?”
Surely whatever Jack Crawford had to say to Will after years without contact couldn’t be good, but the urgent tone in his former boss’s voice still shocked him, washing away the remaining grogginess from Will’s body, sending a chill through his spine and raising the hairs on the back of his neck.
“I know you’re not officially an agent anymore, but I – we need you to consult on this case,” Jack said, voice coated with anxiety. Will was off his bed and pacing the room before the other had even finished the sentence. His thoughts were going a mile a minute and a lump grew in his throat.
“Jack,” he choked, “I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” The thought of working another case with the BAU was not a pleasant one. The short time he had worked for the FBI had brought him one of the worst times of his life; even just talking to Jack now brought back years worth of memories and emotions that he had never fully processed. Plus, it was one thing to work closely with the BAU back then, when he was fresh off the field and teaching at the academy, but it had been years since he quit.
“Please, Will, just come in for a while,” Jack persisted, “I’ll give you the details of the case, and you can make a decision then.” He made a good point, Will thought. If the case was too stressful, or he didn’t think he would be any help, he could just leave.
“Alright,” he conceded, “When do you want me to come in?”
“Today, if you can. As soon as possible.” Without waiting for a response or giving so much as a goodbye, Jack hung up, leaving Will to stew in his thoughts.
He chuckled before heaving a sigh. Winston shot up when the man walked into the kitchen, trotting over with his tail wagging gently behind him. Will smiled and stooped to pet him. The rest of the dogs neglected to greet him when he poured them food, electing to wolf down the kibble and ignore him instead. He watched them for a bit before going on with his morning, making himself a coffee and searching his wardrobe for something at least semi-professional.
When he was sufficiently awake and prepared, he grabbed his keys and walked out to his car. The sun had begun to shine through the treeline and the light washed over him as the engine rumbled to life. While the heat began whirring, he leaned back in his seat for a minute and took a deep breath. For a fleeting moment, he considered calling Jack back to scrap the whole idea but thought better of it.
The drive to Quantico was a little under an hour, but the cold morning air and empty, foggy roads gave the impression that it was longer. Sitting behind the wheel, on his way to the one place he never thought he’d be again, he thought about his past and what had driven him back into isolation in the first place. Thinking about it made him want to turn around and go home even more, but he just kept driving.
Pulling into the parking lot, though, he almost did leave before he even entered the building. He sat there for a while, car off but keys in the ignition, contemplating. The BAU had gone through quite a few renovations since he had been there last. It was taller and a lot less inviting; he could only describe this new building as daunting. A lot had changed, and it made him nervous.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the window. He jolted and whipped around. Brian Zeller stood outside his dingy car with his hands stuffed in his pockets and an awkward smile across his face.
Will breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door. “Thanks for scaring the shit out of me,” he joked.
“Yeah,” the other chuckled, “I thought you got paid to stare into space on crime scenes, not in your car. So you got called in on this one, too? Must be a bad one, huh?” Their conversation continued while they walked into the building, the chilly air causing their breath to be visible and swirl between them. The new interior of the building felt intimidating and the elevator that they were pointed to was a new addition, but talking to Brian calmed him considerably. He was grateful for the familiar face.
Jack was waiting for them when the elevator door opened and ushered for them to follow him as soon as they stepped out. The three of them walked down a hallway bustling with people into what seemed to be Jack’s new office. The decor was strikingly similar to his old office, and the place calmed Will’s nerves enough for him to focus his full attention on Jack. The other man described the case in intricate detail while Will and Brian looked through the case file.
Apparently, the team had been tracking a serial killer across state lines for months, but they were always one step behind. Will, Brian, and Jimmy had been called in because the killer, or unsub, as Jack called him, started taking on attributes of the Chesapeake Ripper. That knowledge made his stomach churn and his heart pound.
“I’m sorry to drag you all back into this, but the four of us are the only ones with intimate knowledge of the Ripper case, so I thought that calling you in would be the best idea. Now, our tech analyst is working to get as much information about the case taken off the internet as possible, but it’s likely that the copycat already has all the details he needs, so we’ll have to stay vigilant.”
When Jack showed the first victim, Will turned his head. It had been years since he had seen a body, and he preferred it that way. Brian was strangely silent, though, and it worried him enough to turn back. He froze when he saw her, impaled on a stag head, just like Cassie Boyle.
“This was the victim that got me worried in the first place, but I let it go because it happened in Pennsylvania, but it turns out there were a few before that I didn’t connect until now. And there was another in Georgia,” a violent murder in all ways similar to Jeremy Olmstead’s death, he explained with another picture and moved on quickly, “but the most recent one –” Jack hesitated, breathing deeply through his nose before placing the next picture on the desk without looking at it. Will’s jaw dropped, but he couldn’t look away. He heard Brian vomit into Jack’s trash can from next to him.
He tried to find something, anything to say, but it felt as though all the air had been sucked from the room. Jack cleared his throat and spoke for him.
“This victim was killed in a similar way to… Beverly Katz.” And suddenly Will knew he wouldn’t be able to walk away from this case until it was finished. “This,” he paused, swallowing thickly, “this victim proves that Hannibal is involved . I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but he just is. We have to find his partner before things get any worse; nip this psycho in the bud now .”
Silence lingered throughout the office; none of them knew how to proceed. After a moment of pulling themselves together, Brian spoke, voice still coated with emotion, “You have a tech analyst?”
Jack seemed to be thankful for the change in topic, clearing his throat and gesturing for them to follow him out of the office, “I guess I should introduce you to the team.”
Will walked behind them, trying to keep a level head through the anger he felt. He decided to file away his emotions until after they dealt with this case, when he could go home and comfortably have a breakdown surrounded by nothing but his dogs and the forest. He managed to get out of his head when they entered a set of glass doors.
“This”, Jack gestured to the area in front of them, “is the bullpen. It’s where we do paperwork. Down the hall is the tech analyst's office. And those offices are for the Unit Chief and Senior Agent.” They then headed into a room with an oval-shaped table and a blank TV screen.
Jack gestured to each of the people already in the room as he introduced them. “Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, Senior Agent David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid, our press liaison, JJ, and the tech analyst – Penelope Garcia.” Will felt his heart working overtime again as the agents around them smiled and waved politely. He cursed himself internally, knowing he’d have to get over his fear of new people if he would be any help on the case.
“Alright, team, this is Will Graham and Brian Zeller, I know you already met Jimmy Price,” Jimmy, who Will guessed had gotten there first, waved from the wall he leaned against. “These fine gentlemen helped put the Ripper away, so they’ll be helping with the copycat.”
The Unit Chief stood, coming over to shake both of their hands. “You’re just in time, JJ was about to start going over the original Ripper case. You three can take a seat if you’d like?”
Will sat in one of the chairs against the far wall, as did Jimmy and Brian, but not before excitedly embracing each other. Brian greeted a couple of the other agents and slumped into the seat next to Will. Jimmy grinned at him when he sat on the other side of Brian, “Long time, no see, Graham. Glad you’re here.” Will smiled back at him and they all turned their attention to the press liaison as she pulled information up onto the screen.
“From what we know,” she started, “Hannibal Lector, or the Chesapeake Ripper, as he was called by local law enforcement and news outlets, was first recognized as a serial killer after he copied another killer's style, Garret Jacob Hobbs, or the Minnesota Shrike.”
—
Throughout the presentation, all of the agents seemed to refuse to use the term ‘Chesapeake Ripper’, referring to Hannibal only by his name, which made Will cringe at first, but he got over it. Other than that, going over the case was relatively painless, but Will could tell there were a lot of gaps in their information. Gaps that he could fill. Gaps he wouldn’t unless absolutely necessary because it was too painful.
Agent Hotchner, or Hotch, as he gathered, nodded and stood. “Our next step will be interviewing Lector. Even if we can’t get any information, we might be able to better understand how his brain works.” The proposition made the knot in his stomach twist again, but he figured it wouldn’t be him talking one on one with Hannibal.
One thing struck him, though. Something he had read in a thousand newspapers plastered in every store in Wolf Trap. “Jack,” he started nervously, “I don’t think –”. He cut himself off as his voice trembled, and started again.
“He’s still not talking to anyone, right?” He stared intently at the ground but he could feel all of the new agents looking at him . The question was aimed toward Jack, but another agent – Reid, he reminded himself – answered.
“That’s a good point,” he then turned to the team, their attention now on him, “Based on what we’ve heard, Lector hasn’t agreed to talk to anyone since he was caught.”
Morgan hummed in agreement and added on, “Plus, he was a psychiatrist, and based on his knowledge, I’m guessing he can be pretty manipulative.” Will thought that was a bit funny. They had no clue just how manipulative he truly was. How easy it was for him to get people to trust him. Manipulative was an almost laughable understatement.
“We’ve seen through plenty of manipulation tactics before,” Hotch countered, “I’m sure we’ll be able to do it again. We’ll send Emily and Rossi in first and go from there. We might have to switch out a few times to keep him on his toes.” He then went through who would stay and who would be split into two different government-owned SUVs to help with the interrogation.
During the drive up to Baltimore, Will thought anxiously of the information that had been kept out of Hannibal’s case file. A lot of it had been covered up or simply left out for Will’s sake. In fact, Will’s entire file had been promptly wiped clean after the other was imprisoned. They even managed to erase any trace of any TattleCrime articles that mentioned him. At the time, they had all decided it wouldn’t be a good look for Will seeing as he might’ve ended up on a watch list and he was in desperate need of the government check for his troubles. Now, he was glad none of these strangers knew what truly happened.
—
In the time between meeting the team and driving up to BSHCI, most of Will’s interactions with them had been incredibly awkward. That stayed true as everyone who wasn’t in the interrogation room observed from behind the glass. The room was silent save for the scene they were watching play out.
Will stood with his arms crossed, practically hugging himself. He hadn’t felt this vulnerable in a long time. The two agents in the room, Prentiss and Rossi, were going through a list of questions. Hannibal answered none of them.
After each question, they waited awkwardly in silence before moving on. After 20 minutes and 5 different questions, both agents were beginning to get frustrated. Their reactions were minimal, but seasoned profilers and detectives could tell. As could Hannibal, and he visibly enjoyed angering them.
Eventually, Rossi got up and started toward the door with a huff. And finally, Hannibal spoke, only he didn’t answer any of the questions. Instead, he looked through the one-way mirror and straight into Will’s eyes, and proposed his own.
“Say, is Will Graham with you? Whatever happened to him?”
Will froze, muscles locking up and breath catching in his throat. He tried to reason with himself, knowing that Hannibal hadn’t actually been looking at him, it was completely by coincidence that it had appeared that way. He tried to assure himself that there was no way Hannibal could know he was there. No matter what he told himself, he still felt fear clutch him, blooming through his chest and gripping his heart.
“I… don’t know who you are referring to,” Emily tried, “Answer the question please.” The lie was glaringly obvious and Will cringed. A sick smirk spread over Hannibal’s face.
“I want to speak with him.” Will’s eyes snapped to Jack’s and he stared, panicked. He could vaguely hear the Senior Agent arguing with Hannibal, but he couldn’t make out the exact words through the blood rushing in his ears. Hannibal’s voice cut through the fog though, “I will not say anything else until I see him.”
Rossi sighed before nodding toward the door, motioning for Emily to get up and follow him out. The door to the room the others were in opened as the two joined them. “So,” Rossi cleared his throat in an attempt to break the tension, “are we sending him in?” Hearing the words aloud snapped Will out of whatever trance he was in, and he started processing things logically again.
He was thankful for Jack, who immediately started adamantly denying the suggestion, but he knew he would have to talk to Hannibal again sooner or later. Unfortunately, Jack seemed to be very passionate about not letting that happen.”No, I am not letting him in there with that – that monster. He –” Will knew firsthand how dangerous interrupting the older man could be, he just didn’t care at the moment.
“I’m fine, Jack.” He looked into the eyes of the other for a moment before his gaze darted away again. “He’ll talk to me, so I should just go in there. He’s in cuffs and you’re watching, so what can he really do?” Will knew there was a lot that Hannibal could do without lifting a finger. He could send them on a wild goose chase, reveal what was covered up, or give him an aneurysm from stress or something. Hell, he could probably land Will back in the prison cell right next to him if he wanted. Jack didn’t need to hear that, though.
Jack glared at him and he knew what was going to happen, but he still jumped at the loud opposition he was met with.
“Absolutely not! Do you seriously think that after everything , I would just let him talk to you? Alana was right, I shouldn’t have let you get close, and I will not make that mistake again.” Bringing up Alana was a low blow, and it pissed Will off enough to solidify his decision. He was going to talk to Hannibal. Jack kept going, “Maybe he’ll talk to me. He’s probably looking for a familiar face –”
“ Jack , he wants me and you know it. I’m not that naïve anymore, he won’t be able to pull the shit he did before.” Jack continued to glower at him, and Will glared back, only mildly regretting arguing in front of Jack’s new team. Finally, the section chief let out a deep breath.
“Let’s let him sit in his juices for a while before you go in,” he conceded, “Someone check in with Garcia and the others, Will, follow me.” As soon as the two were out of the room, the BAU team dropped their guard.
Morgan turned to look at the others, “Why the hell are they being so vague? It’s creeping me out.” He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he had a bad feeling about whatever was going on between their section chief and Graham.
“I don’t know,” Rossi agreed, “but I’d say something happened, and that something was probably traumatic, I mean, Graham hasn’t worked a case since they caught this guy.” He was still kind of shaken, this is one of the very few times he had truly felt that uncomfortable under the gaze of a killer — the predatory look had really freaked him out.
Hotch made a futile attempt to stop their gossip, but it was thwarted by Emily joining in. “Now that I think about it, there were some gaps in the timeline. Like pretty big gaps. We’re missing something.” She didn’t mean to make it sound so cynical, but the circumstances were suspicious.
“What?” Morgan asked incredulously, “You think Jack could be hiding something?”
The unit chief gave up on reining in their chatter for the sole reason that he was also a little wary. There were spaces in the chronology. Jack wasn’t telling them everything, and they knew. Hotch looked out the small glass window in the door to monitor the conversation happening on the other side.
Jack and Will both leaned against the wall adjacent to the two rooms. They kept their voices low so the noise wouldn’t carry over to either of the rooms. “Interrogations are difficult, Will, and you have to stay in character. If you show him weakness, he’ll try to use it, so you’ve got to show him how much you’ve changed.” Will felt numb; he was still terrified , but strangely eager to get in to talk to Hannibal. He finally managed to get himself back into the detective mindset. He was going to be afraid either way, he might as well use it.
He hummed and cut in, giving his own opinion. “I don’t think that’s the best option. He’s used to dealing with people of authority, but he might spill more information to someone he thinks he can manipulate. Even though he knows he’s being watched, he’ll open up - at least a little - when he thinks he’s the one in power.”
The agent placed a hand on his shoulder, “I knew you still had it in you. Go, get in there. I’ll be on the other side of the glass the whole time and if you need to leave, just do it. Now excuse me while I deal with my nosy subordinates.” The familiarity of the situation gave him a sense of relief even if he was walking into the figurative jaws of Hannibal Lecter once again.
He paused for a final time in front of the door to the interrogation room, allowing himself a moment of silence to breathe, and opened the door.
—
He gulped and fidgeted with his sleeves as he sat down, consciously playing up his nervousness. “It’s good to see you again, Dr. Lector,” the corners of his mouth twitched up into an anxious smile.
Hannibal smiled again, but this time, it was less of a predatory smirk and bridging on the affectionate smile Will was used to. “Ah, hello, Will,” the steely tone caused an uneasy feeling to settle heavily over him, “I see you’ve come for a visit.”
He gave a small chuckle, allowing his eyes to dart around the room as Hannibal’s bore into him. “I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions, is that alright?”
“That’s right,” he shifted in his seat, sitting on the edge and leaning forward, a pose he had seen a million times in his office, “the copycat.” He paused, no doubt for suspense, before continuing. “Well, I’ll tell you the same thing I told Miss Lounds – you ought to remember her –” he leaned closer to Will, “I had nothing to do with those murders,” he lowered his voice to almost a whisper, “If I had instructed someone to kill for me, they would have done it properly.”
He stared into Will’s eyes, still smirking at him. He was practically glowing, and Will knew why . Hannibal had been proud when Will killed Randall Tier. Hannibal thought Will was a killer; one of his creation, at that.
He chose to focus on the other information he had been given. He knew it was a trap, but pressed on anyway, knowing it was the only way to get the conversation going. “You spoke to Freddie Lounds? When?”
The inquiry pulled a genuine smile from Hannibal, which terrified the temporary agent. “Since you get to ask me so many questions, I should be able to return the favor. It’s only fair, right, Will?”
Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down his spine, but he kept a level head and continued playing his role. “Of course, doctor.”
Hannibal chuckled, but something about it was off in the way it always had been. In the way that had seemed posh then but sinister now. It was strange, to think of Hannibal as posh when he was chained to the table and dressed in a jumpsuit. Some things don’t change, though, and one of those things is the way that Hannibal presents himself.
“May I interest you in some psychiatry, Mr. Graham?” Will pushed his hair out of his face and shifted in his seat, bouncing his leg just a few times before settling back in his chair. He barely had to think about purposely acting nervous because he was . Hannibal’s gaze was nearly nauseating, and his pulse was pounding in his ears.
On the other side of the mirror, Jack was considering pulling him out of the interrogation room but ultimately decided against it. They needed this information and Hannibal apparently hadn’t spoken a word since he was imprisoned – besides his apparent meeting with Freddie Lounds. The other agents got more confused as time went on. The two seemed to be speaking almost entirely through subtext, the conversation heavy with sarcasm and passive aggression.
“ After you tell me what you talked about with Freddie Lounds,” Will just about growled. Despite the tone, Hannibal took the bait with a wolfish grin.
“Not much, really. She just seemed to be toying with the idea of a book.” He said it to play with Will, but his pupils dilated the slightest bit. Will was satisfied by the thought of outsmarting the ex-psychiatrist once again.
“Will that book be about you… or me?” The doctor chuckled then, a dark laugh that made Will feel like he was back in that dreaded office again, vulnerable in Hannibal's shadow.
“Well, Will, we’ll just have to see, won’t we.” They had been staring so intensely into each other's eyes that Will’s head spun when Hannibal changed the subject. “How are the dogs? What do you feed them these days?” The mention of his dogs made an inexplicable anger flare back up inside him, so he put an end to that conversation.
“Well, I try to avoid feeding them long pig.” His smile was both shaky and an empty gesture. Hannibal gave him a fond look – something that made his skin crawl.
He tried asking more questions, but Hannibal was obviously satisfied with messing with Will for now and avoided them all in his own cocky way. With every passing minute, Will felt more exposed and uncomfortable. He felt laid bare in front of both Hannibal and the BAU. He eventually gave up and stormed out of the room with a sharp, "Goodbye, Hannibal."
After all this time, Hannibal still knew how to get under his skin, but it didn’t matter now. They had a lead – never mind how annoying she was. He was met by Jack and the BAU’s calculating looks as he entered the hallway.
“He fed human meat to your dogs?” It was the first thing said to him when he left the room – agent Prentiss was curious – and it took him a second to process.
“Jack – Wait, that’s your first question? – Nevermind; he knows who it is, but so does Freddie Lounds.” The team members looked surprised and confused.
“Wait a minute, I mean, we can question her, but how do you know for sure?” He looked over to Morgan, then the floor, then back to Jack.
“Uh, when he was talking about her, he was lying. I have no doubt that she’s still writing her book, but that's not all they talked about. I’m guessing either she talked to him about the copycat and he either told her outright or gave her pointers,” he paused, thinking, “I don’t think he told her outright, but she probably witnessed something to make her come here, and he gave enough clues for her to be able to figure it out herself.” The BAU members still stood, bewildered.
“Wait,” Rossi started, “why wouldn’t she report the information?”
Will scoffed and looked to the ceiling for a second before replying, “He might have threatened her. Or she wants the scoop for a new article or something.”
Jack contemplated it for a moment before turning to agent Hotchner, “I need you to get Garcia to find a phone number and call a reporter - Fredricka Lounds - in for an interview. Will, Morgan – we’ll visit the latest crime scene; Reid, Brian, and Jimmy will meet us there. Rossi, Prentiss, you two stay here and try to get more information. Hotch, I need you to interview Lounds back at Quantico.”
Each agent nodded as they were assigned a task and left to complete it. “And JJ, I want to hold off on the press conference for now.” The media liaison seemed nervous when she replied.
“Shouldn’t we alert the public as soon as possible?” She reminded him of a nicer Alana, one that offered friendship instead of judgment. Perhaps the bureau hadn’t changed so much.
“No, it will just spur him on. I’ll let you know when you can hold one, but for now, help Hotch with Miss Lounds,” he dismissed her worry. She showed a bright smile before turning on her heel to follow Hotchner.
—
The crime scene was spattered with dried blood, which made Will’s stomach churn. He looked at the photo of what the room had looked like before the coroner removed the body. There were tools sticking out at horrid angles, and the man was laid out in what could be considered an artistic manner. Brian was pacing, describing what happened. “C.O.D. was mutilation and no organs are missing.”
“Another copy of the Olmstead murder? I’m betting this guy is less of an artist and more of a sadist,” Morgan said, walking the perimeter of the room.
Will hummed in agreement, handing the photo off to Reid. “That’s not a lot to go off of.” Until Freddie was interviewed or they were able to get something else from Hannibal, they had hit a dead end. There were no fingerprints and seemingly no witnesses. They were all silent for a moment, trying to figure out their next step.
Reid was the first to break it, staring into space as he spoke, “Why the jumps in chronology?” he asked the room, “He’s been going through confirmed Ripper victims in order, but he then jumped to Beverly Katz, and now a repeat of another?”
“Hannibal did say something about the killer not doing it properly…” Will remembered aloud, still lost in thought.
Morgan made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat and turned to face them again, “Alright, if this guy is going off script, it is going to be ten times harder for us to find him. He’s jumping state lines, leaving no DNA, and now who knows who he’ll go for next? We’re totally screwed.”
“That’s not necessarily true. The last two murders were in the same state, which he hasn’t done yet. I think he might be devolving,” Reid said.
“We better figure this out fast,” Morgan sighed.
“Well, do I have news for you.” Will started at the new voice but recovered quickly and turned to his friend. Jimmy raised a hand in greeting, “The victim went missing almost 48 hours before the time of death. He was held here for about two days…” He paused with a grimace before continuing, “The tech analyst looked around and she found footage of the unsub stalking the victim.”
Morgan nodded and pulled out his phone. “Alright, I’ll ask Garcia to send us the footage.” As he walked away, Will could hear his voice faintly, “Hey, sweetness…”
—
They watched the clip enough times to give the short man a headache. The face of the unsub was only seen for a fraction of a second before the man turned away again. “Hey Garcia, can you blow up and sharpen this image?”
The peppy agent chirped a response, “Of course, boy wonder.” It took a moment, but soon you could make out a face.
“Alright, thank you, Garcia. You run that image through ViCAP and get back to us.” Jack pressed the ‘end call’ button and the atmosphere was filled with silence again. “Not much to do until we get a call back.”
Garcia’s call came in after another half hour. “Hello, lovelies, bad news, I couldn’t get a result on that face. The image was too blurry. However, in one of these shots, it appears he was speaking to one red-headed reporter, Ms. Lounds.”
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me. I should have arrested that woman when I had the chance, this is bull.” Jack’s reaction would have been comical to Will if he hadn’t been just as angry. Freddie had been the bane of his existence back in the day and seeing her actions - which never failed to skirt around the edges of barely legal - brought to justice.
But, no matter how much he despised the reporter, “Jack, why are you angry at her? She’s just nosy.”
Brian and Jimmy turned to each other as the two began to bicker. Morgan looked half scared and half like he was going to try to intervene. “Just like old times.”
—
Meanwhile, Hotch and JJ were having a wonderful time interviewing the woman in question. JJ considered herself a fairly patient person, but that patience was wearing thin.
“Miss Lounds, you are not being detained, we would just like to ask you a couple of questions.”
Hotch, frustrated as well, began his questioning. “Did you speak with Hannibal Lector about the copycat?”
“I did,” Freddie responded, sticking her chin up at them, “since when is that a crime?” JJ might have called her out on the childish behavior if not for the urgency of the case.
“We already told you, you weren’t arrested, but we do ask for your cooperation. Do you have any information on the copycat?” Aaron had dealt with a lot of annoying people during his career, especially annoying reporters, but never like this.
“Does that mean I can leave? I thought they recorded everything in that place anyway.” JJ could strangle her.
“Miss Lounds, you are fully aware that isn’t true. Now tell me what you talked about before I call Jack Crawford in.” At hearing the section chief’s name, she perked up.
“Crawford is still in the FBI? I thought he would have retired by now.” She reached for her notepad but Hotch stopped her.
He placed a hand over hers and gave a smile to mask his exasperation. “Answer the question.”
Something that Jack had warned them about was the fact that she probably wouldn’t give them any useful information unless it benefited her, so it was no surprise when she said, “I’ll give you my recording of what we talked about if … you give me full access to the copycat story.”
JJ would have stepped in, probably to tell her to off, but Hotch held up a hand. “Alright, give me the recording and I’ll give you a copy of the case file.” JJ gaped for a moment before realizing what the other was trying to accomplish. As soon as the reporter fished the recorder out of her bag and slid it across the table, Hotch was on his way out of the room, JJ on his tail. “You’re free to go.”
“Wait! What about the file?”
JJ turned to look at her, “Miss Lounds, it’s not illegal for an FBI agent to lie for information.” She heaved a sigh as she left the room and approached her boss, “So, what’s on the tape?” Hotch hit the ‘play’ button.
“Dr. Lecter, were you aware of the copycat that is replicating your style?”
“No, Miss Lounds, please, tell me more.”
“Here, this photo was taken from the latest scene.”
“There are no evidence markers. Miss Lounds, where did you get this photo?”
“I have my connections.”
“So you know something the police don’t? You could get arrested for that.”
“They won’t know unless you tell them.”
“What makes you think I won’t?”
“Because, I can get you what you want; entertainment.”
“And what do you get from this?”
“A story.”
“Well, that is certainly incriminating. Shouldn’t we get back in there and arrest her?” JJ was confused as to why the woman wasn’t already in cuffs.
“No, she might who’s doing this. I’ll send an agent to observe her” The two then parted ways. JJ went to talk to Garcia to ask the techie to access Freddie’s information while Hotch finished listening to the recording.
“Hey Garcia, I need you to look into Freddie Lounds’ phone records.” The other immediately got to typing.
“Of course, I can do that… oh, it looks like she has a bunch of calls to the same number, which is linked to one Bradley Miller. He is an editor for TattleCrime and based on his social media, a close friend of Freddie Lounds.” She sent the information to Morgan’s phone, who responded that he and Reid were on the way to the man’s address.
—
Derek and Spencer were silent for the first portion of the drive before they sparked a conversation. “So, pretty boy, instead of staring out the window, why don’t you tell me what you're thinking about.”
That got the younger agent to perk up. “The Ripper case; whatever was left out of it obviously has to do with Will Graham. There have been quite a few articles written about him. I read a TattleCrime article about him when I was in college that accused him of being just as insane as the people he was trying to catch, but I don’t think that’s true. TattleCrime wrote a lot of articles about the Chesapeake Ripper, which Lounds was able to accomplish through unethical journalism, but so many were taken down that half of it might not even be true.”
“I also attended one of his lectures while I was in the academy. He talked about a cold case that he had been a key part in solving, it was pretty interesting. I don’t know what they’re hiding, but it’s pretty obvious that Graham had a close relationship with Hannibal at some point.” He stopped as they pulled up to the address and stepped out of the SUV.
Morgan knocked on the door, but they got no answer. They walked around the side of the house, but gave up when they saw no car in the driveway.
Reid took his phone out, ready to call Hotch, when Morgan pointed out a cafe across the street had cameras pointed toward the road. “We should see if they got anything on their cameras, call Garcia.”
The woman picked up almost immediately, greeting them happily. “What’s up, lovelies?”
“Hey Garcia,” Reid spoke. “We need you to pull up the cameras from the coffee shop across the street.”
“Will do.” She forwarded through the security camera footage, notifying them when she found something. “Hm, after a conversation with the lovely reporter, he sped off in what appears to be a work truck. Maybe a security service company?”
“A work truck?” Morgan asked, “I thought he only worked for TattleCrime.”
“I thought so too,” Garcia agreed. “I’ll run the truck number, one moment.”
They found that the truck had been stolen and she got a hit on the license plate number. It was last seen on a traffic cam parked at a shut-down psychiatry office. “Oh…” The two agents looked at each other questioningly while Garcia processed the information she was about to relay. “The office was formerly owned by one… Hannibal Lecter.”
Morgan nearly choked on his tongue in surprise. He coughed out, “What the hell?” He immediately pulled his phone out to dial Hotch.
“Alright, when you get there, wait for backup,” their boss instructed. They thanked Garcia and rushed back to the SUV.
—
Tires squealed as they came to an abrupt stop. Jack and Will had gotten there first and the older was leaning against the vehicle while the other paced. “Get your vests on, we’re going in.”
After shrugging on their vests, the four walked up to the entrance guns drawn. Spencer glanced toward the van. The doors hung open and there was another body inside. “What happened?”
He didn’t get an answer because Jack was kicking down the door and making his way inside. It took them a few minutes to clear all of the rooms, and when they returned, Will stood in the doorway. He was zoned out, looking at one of the chairs with spite in his eyes. He flinched when Jack came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Woah, are you alright?”
“I’m fine, it’s just… you know,” He motioned to the room while Jack nodded solemnly.
“There’s no one here.” The section chief pinched his nose and furrowed his brows.
“I’ll call in a team to check for DNA and prints in the van, but I’m certain we have our guy. You three head back to Quantico and go over the evidence again.” Will looked at his friend nervously. He wasn’t really prepared to be alone with a bunch of FBI agents he didn’t know, but Jack just flashed a sympathetic smile.
He climbed into the backseat of the SUV that Reid and Morgan got into and pulled out his phone. Jack had texted him a simple thumbs up, which made the corners of his lips turn up. “What are you smiling about, pipsqueak?”
The jab at his height made him chuckle, “Eh, just a friend.” He returned to silence and bounced his leg to calm his nerves.
—
Will, Brian, and Jimmy were busy reviewing each piece of evidence to find where the suspect may have gone next. Jack was still at the most recent crime scene, and Hannibal refused to talk anymore. That gave the BAU members ample time to gossip.
“That man is very fucking creepy. I felt like he wanted to take a bite out of me the entire time we were in there.” Emily sounded grateful to be out of the situation and they could hear Rossi laughing in the background.
“Did you get anything useful?” They put their discussion on pause while the two left the prison, but soon Emily was talking again.
“No. Nothing about the copycat, anyway, but he did mention something suspicious about our ‘on-call agent’.” She wavered again while she got behind the wheel, fumbling to turn the phone on speaker. “He said something along the lines of, ‘I hope you're not planning to put him in here’, but it was… oddly condescending.”
“I know we shouldn’t pry, but when have we ever kept our noses in our own business.” Garcia smiled at the proposition masked as a rhetorical question.
“I’m on it. William Graham… there’s nothing. His file reaches the early 2000s before he completely drops off the map. There’s no record of his time with the FBI after teaching, no job listing, purchases, phone calls, just… nothing. Either he stopped existing or this is a cover-up.” Everyone shared looks before Hotch cleared his throat sharply.
“We can’t jump to conclusions. Even if it is a cover-up, we have to assume there was a good reason until proven otherwise. Dave, Emily, we’ll see you soon.” He leaned down to end the call and glared at the rest. “JJ, Jack just called me with more information for a press conference. You guys should help Graham and the others.” The agents scrambled to follow orders.
“Brian, I haven’t worked a case in years, you can’t just expect me to solve this in a day!” The agents were surprised to walk into the lab to see a fight. Will was pacing, dragging a hand down his face. Brian stood glaring, and rolled his eyes. Jimmy was sorting through a box of evidence, looking displeased.
They all looked angry, which made the agents freeze in their tracks. “Yeah, well, you seemed pretty good at it back then.” Will’s pacing stopped and he rounded on the other.
“I had just been removed from the field! I was working homicide for like 5 years before that, but I didn’t make a point of looking at dead bodies while I was ‘retired’.” Everyone was astounded to see what was happening, but Reid jumped to a conclusion. Brian must have said something - most likely jokingly - that genuinely annoyed Will, and it escalated to this.
He decided to jump in at the pause. “Hello,” he waved awkwardly, “uh, sorry to interrupt, but how can we help?” Jimmy looked thankful for the assistance and motioned to the boxes.
“Well,” he pushed a box toward them, “let’s start with making a connection between any of the Ripper victims with the copycat’s victims. It might take a while because pretty much none of the files from then were digital and there are a lot of victims to go - are you actually reading that fast?” Spencer had already grabbed one of the boxes and started flipping through files.
“Yeah, he does that,” Emily smirked, pride evident, as she removed the lid of another box.
Jimmy was right, hours passed before they found a similarity. Morgan was considering taking a break to grab a coffee or stretch his legs before noticing something. “Garcia, were any of the unconfirmed victims doctors? Look for anyone that made house calls.”
There was a response of keyboard clicks and humming then, “Uhm...yes! I have a Joseph Benitez; he is a physician who graduated from John Hopkins very recently.”
“Alright, can you look into one of the Ripper victims, Andrew Caldwell?”
“Of course, I can. Catch you in a bit.” There was a beep as the call ended and Morgan stood up with a groan.
“I’m gonna grab a coffee while we wait, do any of you want a cup?” Reid absentmindedly raised a hand and Zeller hummed in place of a ‘yes’.
Not long after Morgan’s return, Garcia called back, “Hello my furry friends and lovely acquaintances. This Andrew was quite the type, I mean he has multiple complaints about being homophobic and or simply an ass to his patients. Plus, his myspace page, which is now deleted, obviously, was full of remarks and personal details of co-workers; he was a real dick.”
Morgan opened his mouth, but the woman on the other end continued, “Before you ask, I am searching through Joseph’s social media and… nothing of the sort. He was a real upstanding guy.”
Frustrated, Reid sighed. “If the connection is primarily linked to occupation, and he stopped going chronologically, what do we have?”
“Nothing,” Will stated. “That’s the point.”
Confused, Morgan asked, “What?”
“Hannibal isn’t just some run-of-the-mill killer. He – he uses psychological warfare . He did this for decades without being caught and now, somehow, he’s doing it again.” He started pacing again. “Hannibal knows who it is. We just- We need to figure out how he’s contacting this guy.”
“We can try to get the hospital’s security footage, but they usually keep that stuff locked up tight,” Garcia responded.
“Sounds good, baby girl,” Morgan agreed, “you get on that, we’ll see what else we can find.” He ended the call, and they returned to their files.
—
After another hour, they all headed home. Jack was the one who ordered them all to go and get rest, yet neglected to take his own advice. He had decided that it was ‘just one of those cases’ that you shouldn’t leave, even for a second. That proved to be true when he got a call in the early hours of the morning, before the sun rose, from the State Hospital. By the time he finished going through the footage and compiling information, the agents were already filing in.
The team and its new additions were gathered in the briefing room, and Jack started presenting his findings. “I have no clue how this wasn’t noticed before - definitely the work of that idiot that replaced Bloom - but Hannibal has had one person that visited over 10 times. Despite the security of the prison, I guess that background checks are no longer procedure, because he was visited by,” he turned to look at Will, who narrowed his eyes, “Abigail Hobbs.”
Will’s expression was blank, but his breathing became uneven. He threaded a hand into his hair and began to pace.
“Abigail Hobbs… she was one of the Ripper’s victims, right?” Reid wondered aloud.
“Yes, they had a somewhat close relationship before her murder and she was killed as part of a larger scheme. Will, what’s up?” The section chief kept in mind that he had to make sure his friend was alright to avoid something like last time.
“Jack, think about it; why is he doing this?” He looked up at Jack and the older saw the same confusion and fear he did during the first Ripper case. “Why now, after almost a decade?”
He paused, locking eyes again, “He’s playing with us again. Inflicting maximum damage.” When his colleagues remained confused, he sighed. “I mean, first Beverley, now Abigail… He’s not looking to kill, he’s looking to fuck with us.” Brian gave an angry exhale, clenching his fist. There was a lot to hate about Dr. Lecter.
At the puzzled looks of the BAU, Jack gave an explanation, “Beverly was one of our best agents. She got pointed in the direction of Hannibal and ended one of his victims. It was a great loss to the team, but we pulled through. What does he hope to accomplish?”
Prentiss gave her thoughts, “We’ve seen a lot of people with the goal of causing chaos and Hannibal definitely reads as such. He is instructing our unsub on the kills but leaving out enough details to keep us off his trail. He might not know that his new associate is giving him away with the name he gave.”
“He knows,” Jack deadpanned. “Now we need to find this Miller guy before he hurts anyone else.” After wrapping up the presentation, he turned to his agents, telling them to resume their research. He then turned to JJ.
“I think it’s time for the press release,” he instructed her on what to say before retreating to his office. Will followed. Once in the privacy of the room, he spoke.
“Jack, you don’t even have a psychological profile for this guy. How do you know that Hannibal isn’t manipulating him? How do we know that this isn’t –”
“Will, stop,” he cut him off sternly, “Don’t even say it. I will have no choice but to take you off this case.”
“I’m just saying… You know what he did. You know what I did.”
“Damn it, Will! Go home.”
“But Jack, I –”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, just go home .”
Will sighed, deciding to listen to Jack. He left silently, head hung low.
—
“Now we would like to warn everyone, just as we did with the original Ripper, to be mindful of who you come in contact with, where you are, and people you see. This copycat is trying to create panic, so I will ask that you stay calm in these trying times. We also think that his next target may be a customer service worker, possibly working for a tailor. If that applies to you, please, be cautious. Thank you.”
JJ stepped off the pedestal and pushed through the crowd of rowdy reporters. She approached Hotch, annoyance clear on her face. “What now?”
“We should visit local tailoring companies to see if they have any suspicious clients. It’s just a start, but it’s all we have right now.” JJ nodded grimly and followed him to the SUV.
They visited the shop where Hannibal’s victim, Caldwell, worked at first, but got nothing. The visits to each shop went by as a blur. Some owners were kind and others were offstandish, but they did find a shop with a suspicious customer. They found almost weekly purchases; all of them were inexpensive and insignificant and the gentle old woman behind the counter had described him as threatening, but unfortunately, the description didn’t match.
“The only thing left is to try to get something else from Hannibal, then,” Hotch sighed, calling Jack.
—
“So,” The next morning, Jack sat down across from Hannibal, “this does not sound like the Abigail Hobbs I know.” He played one of the recordings from a visit with the unsub.
Hannibal huffed a laugh. “No, it does not.”
“There is some pretty incriminating stuff on these tapes. Now, you’re already here for life, but I would like to know how to find this man.” Even Will, who was very used to the intimidating glare of agent Crawford, shrunk at its presence.
“Now Jack, you know me, I like to keep things interesting. That has proved difficult inside a prison.” The man across from him grunted in acknowledgment. “I can show you where he will be, but I will not tell you .”
Jack restrained himself from yelling, ‘bullshit,’ and stood up. The metal chair produced a grinding noise as Hannibal stood up as well. It made Will wince and Jack raised an eyebrow. The doctor whispered something into the agent's ear.
“Huh,” somehow, the older man managed to keep his cool, “I’ll think about it.” Whatever Hannibal said meant something to him, because the disgruntled look painted on his face was gratifying.
Jack burst into the room in a flurry, “He just told me he knows exactly where the next dump site is and when Bradley will be there.”
“We should try to take that offer, right? I mean, we’ve petitioned for it in similar circumstances,” Emily observed.
“Is that really a good idea though? This case is much more public, if a civilian were to see him, we could get in big trouble with the press.”
“Spence is right, we’d have a lot of reporters like Lounds on our hands, not to mention angry families.”
“Everybody quiet! We’re going to petition for it. I don’t care what the press thinks, I care about finding this guy,” Jack dialed his superior’s number and walked out. The team looked to Will, searching for an answer to their boss’ anger, and the man looked like a deer in headlights for a good moment.
“He has every reason to be pissed; that case did a number on all of us. Jack is the only one that stayed with the bureau after the case.” There were different reactions, all in sympathy for their boss.
Giving in to his friends’ curiosity, Hotch asked, “Why was this case different from any other?”
“It’s… classified, but, maybe you’ll know someday.” He left the room and there was a muffled conversation before they returned to silence.
With Hannibal brooding on the other side of the glass, Morgan mumbled, “That sounds… heavy.” Various sounds of agreement followed the statement, then they returned to a lighter note of conversation.
—
After a brutal, but thankfully, short court case, the BAU had clearance to take Hannibal out of prison so he could show them where to find the unsub. Every time the bastard listed off the next direction, Will felt the urge to pull out his gun. It was an instinct deeply ingrained in him; probably also by Hannibal. The older had insisted that they be in the same vehicle, which was permitted under strict regulation.
“Right here. That park.” Agents soon swarmed the scene and Jack dragged Hannibal out of the SUV, the criminal having the audacity to complain. He shoved him forward, Hannibal stumbling to regain balance.
“Uncuff me,” he replied coolly, “and I’ll show you precisely where.”
Jack growled, “Are you shitting me?” All he got was a smirk, so he took a shaky breath. The keys jangled as he stuffed them into the lock, freeing Hannibal. Before either of them could blink, his gun was against the asshole’s back. “One wrong move, and you’re dead.”
“That tree. I think you can leave me be to go investigate now, there seems to be enough of a police presence.” The smile he flashed was something that haunted his nightmares for too long.
Right on time, a voice called from where Hannibal had pointed, “We’ve got a body! Shit… sir, we have multiple bodies.” As he trekked the short distance, he saw the rest of the BAU’s vehicles pull up. The slamming of doors followed and Jack was now confident that the killer was in good hands.
The BAU hadn’t come across many cases this complex, but they usually ended up feeling like fish out of water. This though, was something they could handle. As Reid closed the door behind him, gun drawn, he looked into the tree line.
Hannibal had Will by the arm, pulling him close and talking into his ear. The other looked close to tears, the terror visible in his features. His chest heaved and he was trying to pull away, so Spencer interrupted, “Hey, hands off!” The taller man let go of Will, who shrugged off the touch. Hannibal was put back in cuffs and hauled to the prison transport van, fangs showing in his grin. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. I’m gonna…” he pointed over to where the local P.D. was setting up an excavation sight.
They found 6 victims that weren’t listed previously, each corresponding with a Ripper victim, and a shattered teacup, repaired with gold – which probably irked Will more than it should have. Bradley Miller was arrested a block away from the run-down park and promptly shipped off to the Milburn Correctional Facility, where the team could keep a close eye on him for a while.
—
Sitting in a room that you have become acquainted with over the past week, surrounded by people that you will probably never see again is usually a sad thing. Even worse was that seeing Jack, Brian, and Jimmy again sparked a feeling of loneliness in Will. He found himself dreading returning home with the knowledge that any one of them was a phone call away all these years and none of them had the courage to contact one another until a tragedy did it for them.
He was lost in his own head, Hannibal’s voice ringing in his ears, ‘I know the most intimate parts of you, Will. You are trying, but you can not hide from me. Sooner or later, time reverses, and the teacup comes back together. You will become what you were meant to be, and when you do, you will know where I am.’ He kept thinking one thing, did Hannibal do all of this just to get him alone? It was a probable explanation, he thought.
He heard laughing and someone calling his name, which cleared the haze, and he looked up. “Jack was asking you something,” Brian chuckled.
“I want to know if you’d like a place on the team full-time. You don’t have to make the decision now, but I think you’d make a fine addition.”
“I don’t know, I mean last time you had me working cases, I got encephalitis. Is it really a good idea,” he joked.
“You are infuriating , Will Graham, but I would love you here. Plus, the other two idiots have already signed on.” The younger laughed and ducked his head.
“I think I’ll take you up on your offer, Chief Crawford.”
“Call me that again, and I’ll fire you.” In their joking, Will had pretty much forgotten that anyone else was there. The BAU, which he would soon technically be a part of, were tucked into a corner of the room, immersed in their own conversations.
“Hey, now that you’re going to be one of us, I think you told me that you would spill details on the Ripper case,” several whoops came from the team, who hadn’t expected Hotch to be the one to ask.
“That is a long story. I guess it starts when Jack walks into my lecture hall after class - he was kind of fucking rude - asking for my help on an investigation. Long story short, Dr. Lector was called in, too - to ‘keep an eye on me’. He was my physiatrist, kind of. But we were also friends.”
—
At the end of the story, which was a collaborative effort from the four agents, the others were shocked into silence.
“I… I am so, so sorry that this happened to you!” Garcia had been holding back an ocean of tears, which fell onto the shoulder of a very stiff Will. He stood pencil straight as she embraced him, which pulled Zeller and Price into a fit of hysterical laughter.
“Why don’t we go out for dinner? My treat, to welcome our new friends.” Rossi’s suggestion sparked a discussion on where to go. Spencer, Derek, and Brian vouched for Chinese while everyone else chose something more elegant. They ‘met in the middle’ - which was not at all the middle, really - and went with Olive Garden.
Everyone was beginning to say their goodbyes, Brian passing behind him to ruffle his hair with a, “Glad to be working with you again,” so he excused himself. He picked at his nails as he walked to the front of the restaurant. He explained to the poor teen working the register that he would like to pay his own bill, did so, and left.
As content as he was to live with his dogs, seldomly leaving his home, he was also fond of having people to talk to and laugh with again. Starting the next Monday, he would be thrown back into the job that had almost gotten him the death sentence and broken his psyche, but this time, he felt better equipped to handle it.