Chapter Text
Through a white haze of shock Will Graham felt himself be processed. It was a familiar experience, though this time he didn’t have the aid of a fevered mind or the cold comfort of familiar faces around him. The officials spoke in French, but he hardly listened to their words. Feigning a catatonic state wasn’t difficult. He could hardly summon the strength to breathe. Nothing felt quite real to him.
Only when he was back in the US, in the custody of the FBI, did he speak. Psychologist after psychologist poked and prodded his mind, and he gave them the right answers. He shook and wept when it was appropriate, and he didn’t have to reach far for inspiration. He felt simultaneously hollow and filled with sharp edges, like if he moved wrong, his grief would pierce his skin from the inside and tear him apart. He stayed awake days at a time to avoid the nightmares, but they always came for him in the end.
Every time someone came to his cell, he expected to hear the news he feared most, that Hannibal Lecter was dead. Even the solace of his stream had been destroyed. He’d wade into the water and glance back to see Hannibal on the shore, right before a sniper blew his brains out. Will hardly ate, didn’t speak unless someone asked him a question two or three times. He should have been worried he’d end up trapped in the psychiatric hospital forever.
The haze lifted, slowly. Will heard Hannibal had recovered and gone to trial, again, and confessed to every murder they’d committed together. He also confessed to coercing Will into silence and obedience. He was sentenced to life in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Again.
One morning Alana Bloom came to see Will. He’d been taken from a cell to something more akin to a hospital room, though the doors still locked from the outside. Her heels clicked on the cheap tile floor as she walked down the hall, and she was wearing a suit that cost more than Will’s old car.
For the first time since his incarceration, Will smiled. “Alana. You’re looking well.”
“And you’re not. They tell me you haven’t been eating much.” Though she’d cultivated an aesthetic that oozed dangerous power, her eyes were as kind as they’d always been towards Will.
“I can’t eat anything unless I’m sure I know what’s in it,” Will lied.
“I thought you might want to know, we found your dogs. They’ve been with me, but I’m sure they miss you.”
Tears stung the corners of his eyes. “Thank you.”
“I had to give them names, though. They didn’t have tags.”
“Baleia is the chocolate lab. Wolf is the sheepdog.”
“Baleia, that’s lovely. What does it mean?”
“I don’t know. He—Hannibal named her. He gave them to me in an attempt to keep me docile.”
Alana sat by his bed, moving the chair close to his side. “You don’t have to lie to me, Will. I saw the way you looked at him. I know you don’t have Stockholm.” Will started to speak, but she raised her hand. “Don’t bother. He deserves to take the fall for it. He didn’t force you, but he may as well have. Before him, you weren’t—”
“A monster?”
“Lost. He led you astray. You’re a good man, Will. I don’t think you’ll hurt anyone else.”
“Freddie Lounds will be disappointed. I’m sure she was hoping for a few sequels.”
They laughed together, and Will felt reality settle for a moment. The world lost its dreamlike quality. Alana stayed for a while, and they talked about her child, and the future. Then visiting hours were over, and she stood to leave.
“You can’t see him again, you know. It’ll be a dead give away if you’re ever in the same room together.” Alana gave him a mournful expression from the door. “He’s as good as dead to you.”
“I know.” Will felt a scream build in his chest, clawing to get out. “Goodbye, Alana. Don’t be a stranger. You’re the only shrink in this place I don’t despise.”
“When you’re better, I’ll bring you your dogs.”
Two years after Hannibal Lecter had been recaptured, this time for good, as Dr. Frederick Chilton would assure anyone who asked, Jack Crawford made the drive out to Will’s house in Wolf Trap, Virginia. Will had returned there after his release. He’d been legally dead for a while, but Molly hadn’t wanted the house. It had still been on the market when Will became a free man. She’d sold it to him for one dollar, then asked him never to contact her again. Will could hardly blame her.
Baleia started barking before Will heard the crunch of gravel in the driveway. She ran outside as soon as Will opened the screen door, but Wolf was more wary. Will invited Jack in and made coffee.
“Where are the pictures?” Will asked, once they were both settled at his kitchen table, mugs in hand. The spring hadn’t yet taken away all of winter’s chill. Will wrapped his hands around the ceramic, soaking in the warmth.
“Pictures?” Jack had aged ten years since Will had seen him last. He had more gray hairs and the lines around his eyes were etched more deeply.
“Of the crime scene. Why else would you be here?”
Jack grimaced. “I’m not here about a case, Will. You’re not ready for that. Probably won’t ever be. Jesus Christ.” Jack took a sip of coffee. “I want to offer you your old teaching post. It’s vacant, and a new class starts in a week.”
“I’m not sure the FBI will want me molding the impressionable minds of new recruits.”
“You’re one of the best, even—” Jack stopped himself.
“Even as damaged goods.” Will gave him a wry smirk. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“What do you say? Gonna stay out here making a living fixing motors until you die?”
“I just do that for fun. Freddie Lounds actually gives me part of her royalties.”
“You asked her for that?” Jack straightened up, eyes wide in surprise.
“I tried to refuse, but she insisted. Apparently once word got around that I was—” Will grimaced, “—Hannibal Lecter’s last victim, there was public outcry in my defense. Freddie was trying to placate the Twitterverse. It pays the bills.”
“I read they offered her a movie deal, but she refused.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard in a while.”
“So?” Jack put his coffee down. “I need an answer.”
For a long moment Will stared out the window at the expansive fields. In the shadows of trees snow still lingered. “Alright. When do I start?”