Chapter Text
Molly Graham wore her visitors badge like a medal of honor.
Stepping in to the halls of Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane was far from wise on her end but she was determined to take her white lies to a whole new level. The bullet wound in her shoulder still ached, the raw pain constantly reminding her of what had caused all of this. That cause had led her here, sinking into her mind like a sickness until she could think of nothing else. Molly had survived many things- the death of a husband, the uncharted territories of single parenthood, the fear of the unknown, and the embrace of a newcomer. Will had tripped in to her tattered life just as the tape and safety pins keeping it together began to lose their grip. He had offered her something stronger to hold it all together— stability. Will had come with hammer and nails clasped in his hands and secured everything in to places where they were sure to keep their hold.
Only now were the nails beginning to slip from the walls.
Molly’s arrival at the hospital was met with a variety of looks. She watched as unfamiliar faces begin to change shape as she spilled information about herself to the head of the department. In a matters of seconds and spoken words she watched as she went from being a stranger to a martyr, an unfortunate being tangled in the life of a broken creature. Will’s reputation cast a shadow over her strength and she found it harder to carry herself upright.
“Keep your hands away from the glass. If he tries to give you anything, refuse. Do you understand?”
Past the oak doors lay a cell unlike anything Molly had ever laid eyes on. The décor was set up in such a way that Molly felt as if she were walking into a zoo where the top specimen was kept on display to those willing to pay and view. Laid out on the cot near the back wall behind the glass was the body of the creature that had spilled into her life through the cracks of her husband and she approached the glass, staring at him with distaste. He was less handsome than he had appeared in the papers and she felt a sickening rush of glee knowing that this once proper and pampered man was wasting away in a make believe cell behind closed doors. His eyes were closed as if he were sleeping but Molly knew better than to mistake his lack of interest in her for slumber.
“I take it that you failed to rid him of that tasteless aftershave.”
Molly crossed her arms in front of her chest slowly. “Why put a good Christmas gift to waste? He likes it. Deal with it.”
A smile cracks his lips but Hannibal’s eyes stay still and shut. “I’ve been dealing with it much longer than you have, Molly. The memory of it is something I often visit.”
“That’s Mrs. Graham to you, Dr. Lecter.”
In the stillness of the room lay a heavy fog of tension that fed the fire that had started to smolder in the pit of Molly’s stomach. Here was this being that had screamed up at her from so many newspapers, in the flesh before her. How many times had she imagined meeting him? How many nights had she stayed up pushing a cold towel to Will’s brow after he had woken up shaking and screaming beside her? All of Will’s suffering had stemmed from the damage done by this man.
Like a statue coming to life, Hannibal unfolded himself from the cot and snapped his eyes open to take in the woman before him. Through the holes in the glass he could smell Will’s aftershave, the earthy sweetness of cedar and grass, mixed with dog hair and the sting of a child. Her skin still held the smell of the hospital where she had recently been released from and Will’s scent was even stronger on her than he had expected.
In the gaping holes of his eyes raged a storm of jealousy that Molly couldn’t help but feel proud of.
“Mrs. Graham.” Hannibal says the name slowly, sounding out each syllable as if the very words caused his tongue to swell. “What has brought you here to visit today of all days?”
“Look,” Molly wasn’t into word games and she knew Hannibal had the tendency to get cheeky. “I don’t know what your deal is but I want you to stop playing these games with my husband. Stop sending people out to kill us, stop making this investigation into a game. It’s over, Hannibal. It’s been over.”
“Tell that to Jack Crawford. The only person controlling this game is him, Molly. I warned Will not to get involved in anything Jack came to him for. Did you not warn him to do the same?”
Molly felt a stab of regret but she spoke through it. “I pushed Will because I wanted him to save those families. I never knew he would think to go back to you.”
The doctor smiled and he held his head higher, gazing through the glass at Molly like a lion staring down a gazelle. “Then perhaps you don’t know your husband as well as you would like to think, Mrs. Graham.”
Silence. A chill ran through the air and for a moment Molly felt like there was no glass between them and no rules. She wanted to run up and punch the smile straight off his smug face until he bled. “Will isn’t part of your world anymore, Dr. Lecter,” she glared at him, shoulder aching with the weight of her wound. “He’s done perfectly fine without you for the last three years.”
“Has he now?” Hannibal stepped closer to the glass and his eyes appear to glint in the dim light of the room. “Has it ever occurred to you Molly that perhaps the only reason you are even in Will’s life is because I’ve allowed it?”
“That’s no-“
“Your husband, your child, your dogs, the entire life you’ve built together has only been possible because I saw to it that Will achieved a false sense of freedom by allowing myself to be locked away. Turning myself in provided Will with constant knowledge of my whereabouts, musings, and antics. He would never be able to free himself from the thought of me.” He fastened his eyes on her, pupils dilated. “How well do you think you know your husband, Mrs. Graham?”
The flames in her stomach swelled and she felt sick at the feeling of those eyes on her, staring straight through her in to the very core of her skull. Her jaw clenched and she kept herself still, refusing to lower her guard in any way. Hannibal was a subject Will had avoided talking about during the last three years and Molly had pardoned him from providing an explanation due to his history of loss. “I know my husband, Dr. Lecter.”
“Do you? Has Will informed you of his trip to Italy? Has he explained to you the reason for the scar on his belly and the cut along his brow?”
“Yes, all of that was you.”
“But did he explain why? What type of victim has Will managed to paint himself as in order to win your devotion, Molly? What stories has Will whispered to you in the dead of night, like fairytales? What uncomfortable details has he left out, I wonder?”
“Head games, Dr. Lecter. I’m not playing them,” she snapped. “No more games; not from you, not from Jack Crawford, no one.”
The louder her voice rose the wider the smile spread across Lecter’s face. She was just the sort of person Will would pluck out of the crowd to hide behind. She was the perfect addition to his person suit, and Will had fashioned his to mirror hers stitch by stitch. It made it easier to live day by day waking up beside a person who appeared to be just like you when in reality (beneath the child, the dogs, and the wood workings of a secluded country home) was a monster.
Molly was incapable of seeing beneath the surface.
“Any person who chooses to keep Will Graham in their life is an immediate player, dear Molly. It’s only a matter of time before Will realizes that this life he’s built with you is not the life he wants for himself.”
“And what kind of life does Will want then? To be with you? To murder people?” Molly’s voice rose and she stared at the creature in disgust.
“Not murder. To change.” Hannibal can smell the blood from the hole in her shoulder and hear the elevation of her pulse. She was strong but her strength was nothing but a whispered prayer in a chapel filled with hymns. This was his palace and she had no power here. “Will is only ever truly himself when he’s with me. When the paper mache rots off, will you be able to love what resides underneath?”
“He’s not your art project, Dr. Lecter.”
“You’re right.” He raises his chin a fraction higher, staring unblinking at Molly Graham with a high sense of satisfaction like a demon who had won a bet. “It’s you that’s his.”
He was like a wall made of steal but held the illusion of glass. Hannibal radiated elegance and strength but something bright and terrifying shun from inside him, hot and blinding as the sun. The longer Molly stood before him the more likely she was destined to burn. With a heavy breath she took a step back from the glass, head still held high despite her desire to retreat. “I’m more than just scraps, Hannibal. I know I didn’t marry a stranger. Will’s a good person, he would never harm me.”
“Not harm. Change.” He reminded her quickly. “You claim you are more than scraps but you fail to see how much Will has already been forced to swallow. Or what he is willing to.” Hannibal paused, taking a long moment to stare Molly down and commit her to memory before he turned his back to her. He carefully made his way over to his bunk and picked up his book, no longer giving her his full attention. “Run along now, Molly. I would enjoy what moments of your borrowed life you have left before the dragon strikes again. I would see to it that you also keep this meeting between us private or risk upsetting your husband.” He smiled lovingly down at his book and deep inside Molly’s gut she felt a twist of jealousy. “He always has a habit of coming to me when he’s upset.”
There was no use continuing the conversation. Anything Molly said the doctor deflected and she felt more aware of her physical form than she had upon entering. A deep rage twisted itself in the pit of her stomach and she felt the urge to plunge her hand through her skin and rip it out. Tired and speechless she turned and walked out through the double oak doors in to the florescent-lit hall. Everything outside of Hannibal’s cell felt like a rude awakening from a fairy tale.
Molly returned her badge to the desk and left, feeling unworthy of the honor it had given her upon entering.