Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I always pass on good advice. It is the only thing to do with it. It is never of any use to oneself.

— Oscar Wilde

Dear Hanni,

I’ve never written to an advice column before, but yours seems less vapid than the rest of what I’ve seen. Generally, I consider advice columns the bane of modern journalism, a step up from the horoscope section. Are any of these letters even real? What kind of person sets themselves up as an authority on these topics, anyway?

I expect that if you ever read this, much less respond, you’ll want to cut that part. 

Anyway, onto the reason for this farce: what do you do if you think your therapist is coming on to you?

I’ve been in and out of therapy my whole life, and I hated it. They were always trying to squeeze me into little boxes and trim out the parts that didn’t fit. I’ve been through every kind of treatment known to man, and I’m just as neurotic as ever. 

Then I met my new therapist. At first, I thought he was an asshole. Actually, I’m pretty sure he actually is an asshole. He stopped apologizing for it weeks ago. But now I’m starting to kind of look forward to therapy. 

Except my therapist is confusing as hell. He’s European, so I’ve had to adjust my gaydar a few notches, but sometimes he looks at me like he’d eat me whole and lick the plate clean afterward. The way he looks at me should probably be illegal. His sketches of Saint Sebastian also look suspiciously like me, with gratuitous anatomical detail and arrow wounds. 

Don’t get me wrong, he’s been more or less a gentleman. He cooks for me, drives me to crime scenes, and almost never checks out my ass. If he weren’t my therapist and a man, he’d probably be my ideal partner, as much as I can have an ideal that isn’t living by myself in the woods with an infinite supply of whiskey and a horde of dogs.

What the hell should I do?

Sincerely,

Don’t Psychoanalyze Me 

Dear Psychoanalyze Me,

Your nom de plume is an excellent example of reverse psychology. It is clear from your letter that you are suppressing a number of uncomfortable emotions that could benefit from close analysis. The strongest is a sense of childish rebelliousness that could well be balanced by an older male influence in your life.

But let us get to the meat of the matter: this gentleman you describe is clearly fond of you, though I see no evidence of untoward behavior. Are you familiar with a phenomenon known as projection? Many, when faced with uncomfortable desires,  assume the belief that those desires belong to someone else. It seems entirely possible that it is not he casting longing looks at your physique, but you wish for him to do so. It is not his art that resembles you, but your yearnings that resemble his art.

While European men are no more likely to be homosexual than Americans (a common misperception), I must admit attitudes overseas are often more flexible. Tell me, what is it about his gender that disturbs you? Is it your identity as a heterosexual male? You do not seem the type to be bound by social conventions, or as you say, to allow your edges to be trimmed to fit into a tidy box.

Compatibility is a much greater concern in the hunt for happiness. It is clear you enjoy his company, and that he treats you well – above and beyond his occupational requirements as a therapist. I imagine he must see something worthwhile under your hostile exterior, perhaps some hidden depth that renders you so delectable. Such opportunities are undoubtedly rare for you—can you afford to let them pass you by?

Of course, we must consider the possibility of unsavory intentions. If you truly feel threatened by your therapist’s attentions, you must inform the authorities. His professional reputation may be ruined by your allegations, but a true predator is a blight upon the profession.

However, I do not think that is the case. You have already described his suitability as a mate, a very telling fact. It suggests that you have given much consideration to the topic and, lacking reasons to reject his affections other than occupation and gender, are now grasping for more. How many nights have you lain awake considering what he has to offer?

You stated your true ideal is a solitary existence with beasts and drink. For introverts, the best match may be someone whose presence is as comforting as solitude once was. Finding a partner who truly understands you is a rare and precious gift that provides nourishment to the body and soul. In this matter, it appears you have little to lose and very much to gain.

However, in advice as in therapy, only you can decide whether to taste life’s joys together, and be consumed by them.

Yours truly,

Hanni

Chapter Text

Dear Hanni,

It’s important to me that you understand one thing, if you understand nothing else: you are so full of shit.

First you tell me I’m projecting, then that I should give him a chance—which one is it? You don’t even know him, or me. You’re just throwing advice at the wall to see what sticks.

And I didn’t say Europeans are gay, just that they throw off my gaydar. If you saw the paisley ties, you would understand.

In theory, people seek therapy to become more functional. A relationship would completely undermine that goal; in my experience, romance is a distraction at best and a clusterfuck at worst. I would be better served with a therapist than a lover. Since he can be one or the other, the decision is pretty obvious.

And no, I don’t lose sleep over my therapist. That would imply I had sleep to lose in the first place.

Fuck you and the horse you rode in on,

Seriously, Don’t Psychoanalyze Me

My dear friend,

Like your therapist, all I want is your happiness. You know best where that lies. I cannot help but wonder why you felt the need to write to me again if you are so sure. Was it to hurl insults at me? I would be offended, were I not so concerned.

Have you discussed your misgivings about relationships in therapy? I wonder what has led you to have such a negative attitude toward matters of the heart. Here, I suspect, lies the root of your bitterness. You have known disappointment before, most likely due to a discrepancy between expectations and reality. Perhaps you imagined your partners would provide a source of normalcy. They could anchor you to the common reality others experience. When you remained as strange and apart as ever, it was hard to say which of you was more disenchanted.

You imagined you had extinguished all traces of hope, but this man, this therapist, makes you hunger for things you’ve long denied yourself. This hunger is a rare and wonderful gift, my friend. Do not squander it.

Yours,

Hanni

To: Graham, W. 

From: Dr. Hannibal Lecter

Subject: Sleep disturbances

Dear Will,

I know you have strong feelings on the subject of medication, but I would take it as a personal favor if you were to reconsider. My sources tell me your sleep patterns are getting worse. Sleep enables us to process our traumas and prepare for new challenges. Without it, you can hardly expect to make progress in your therapy. As your doctor and your friend, I urge you to visit Blume’s Pharmacy and pick up the prescription I have called in. Side effects should be minimal, if any. You have my word.

Yours,

Hannibal Lecter, MD, PhD

Re: Sleep disturbances

hannibal the last time i tried sleep mediicine my head feltlike it was going to splt open, time seemed to move both faster and slowr at once, & i had a constant urge to lick mylips it was not an experience i wsh to repeat. thanks butnothanks

 —w.

Re: Re: Sleep disturbances

Dear Will,

I promise you that this medication is nothing like Seroquel. Attached you will find safety and efficacy data from several clinical trials. Were you aware that going as few as 17 hours without sleep is equivalent to a blood alcohol level of 0.05 percent? I shudder to think of what capacity you are operating at right now.

Please reconsider.

Hannibal

Re: Re: Re: Sleep disturbances

ok, ok.

—w.

Chapter Text

W. Graham [11:38 pm]: Hannibal this stuff

W. Graham [11:40]: Maks my head feel funny

W. Graham [11:43]: Wtf hannibal

W. Graham [11:45]: My dogs r looking at me like

W. Graham [11:45]: Shit wrong butn

W. Graham [11:46]: Theyre really confused.

W. Graham [11:47]: Youre confusing, too.

W. Graham [11:48]: But in a good way I guess

W. Graham [11:50]: Sometimes after a bad crime scen I have trouble gettng out of their heads.

W. Graham [11:53]: And I think about you instead. 

W. Graham [11:55]: The inside of your head is a lot nicer I think.

W. Graham [11:59]: But I don’t completly understand it.

W. Graham [12:03]: Is it wrong if I can empathze easier with the ripper easier than my friends?

W. Graham [12:08]: Only we’re not friends, youre my dr

W. Graham [12:10]: Do you even have friends?

W. Graham [12:11]: You always seem like youre alone

W. Graham [12:11]: Even when youre with people.

W. Graham [12:13]: Especially when youre with people.

W. Graham [12:15]: I dont want yuo to be alone.

W. Graham [12:18]: If you were a dog youd be a greyhound.

W. Graham [12:25]: See he even looks like you

W. Graham [12:30]: Oh duck

W. Graham [12:30]: *fuck

W. Graham [12:31]: It’s back again

W. Graham [12:32]: Why does it have feathers?

Dear Will,

My apologies. I should have advised you that it is necessary to lie down immediately after taking your medication, as unpredictable behavior may result. However, thank you for thinking of me. You should know that I consider you more than just a patient, and you needn’t worry about my being alone. Your friendship is invaluable to me.

I hope you had a restful night.

Yours,

Hannibal

Chapter Text

Hannibal,

Have you always signed your letters like that?

—W.

Dear Will,

I thought you would like to know that my jaw is quite fine. The bruising has improved substantially. I hope your knuckles are not too sore.

Yours,

Hannibal Lecter

Dear Hannibal,

Fuck off. Fuck all the way off. Then fuck off some more. When you think you’ve fucked off sufficiently, realize you’ve just gotten started. You fucker.

Fuck you,

W. Graham

Dear Mr. Graham,

Please be advised of my 24 hour cancelation policy, enclosed in the attachment below. This is your first warning. After subsequent violations, you will be responsible for the amount of your copay.

Regretfully,

Hannibal Lecter, MD, PhD

What copay?

W. Graham

Dear Will,

Touché.

Yours,

Hannibal

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Dear Dr. Lecter,

We regret to inform you that we were unable to deliver the following items:

• Nostalgie japonais: white and yellow camellias, lily of the valley, and white anemone, set off with a red rose center
• Elegant forgiveness: purple and blue hyacinths, white tulips, and forget-me-nots bound with white ribbon
• Heart attack: a blood-red varietal of Sweet William nestled in baby’s breath
• Fidélité: elegant hydrangeas, pink roses, and bright sunflowers
• Ammirazione: gladioli flanked by yellow chrysanthemums, freesia, and larkspur

We were unable to deliver your gift for the following reasons:

     [  ] incorrect address/missing information

     [  ] unable to access destination

     [x] parcel refused

Additionally, our delivery personnel inform us that we are unable to honor further requests to deliver to Mr. Graham. We will be more than happy, however, to assist you in spreading the gift of floral elegance to more amenable recipients.

Sincerely,

Rita Klein

Owner/Operator, Sub Rosa

Chapter Text

Jack Crawford [09:30]: Are you still seeing Hannibal?

W. Graham [9:35]: What?

W. Graham [9:36]: No. I was never seeing Hannibal.

Jack Crawford [9:45]: Your therapist?

W. Graham [9:47]: Oh.

W. Graham [9:50]: No, I'm not seeing him. Why?

Jack Crawford [9:55]: Bartulis case. Grandmother only speaks Lithuanian.

W. Graham [9:56]: Isn't that what the FBI hires translators for?

Jack Crawford [9:58]: She won't talk. But if we had a countryman who also happens to understand psychology...

W. Graham [10:00]: Fine, why don't you ask him?

Jack Crawford [10:09]: New phone. I don't have his number.

W. Graham [10:10]: I could give it to you.

Jack Crawford [10:13]: Can’t, I’m in a meeting. Let me know what he says.

W. Graham [12:05]: Some psycho’s Lithuanian granny won't talk to the FBI. Jack wants you to give it a try.

W. Graham [12:10]: I'll text you the address.

W. Graham [12:45]: When are you coming?

W. Graham [1:15]: Is this about the other week?

W. Graham [1:45]: You're still mad about being punched.

W. Graham [2:41]: Look, in retrospect, I shouldn't have done that.

W. Graham [2:45]: But I also didn't report you to the state board, so we're even.

W. Graham [3:00]: For fuck's sake, Hannibal.

W. Graham [3:15]: People are dying. And you're mad about a punch.

W. Graham [3:26]: Whatever. I tried.

H. Lecter [4:15]: How nice to hear from you Will.

H. Lecter [4:16]: My apologies for not responding to your message. I was giving the keynote speech at a conference.

W. Graham [4:16]: Will you talk to the granny or not?

H. Lecter [4:17]: It would be my pleasure.

H. Lecter [4:18]: Thank you for the book as well. It was very thoughtful.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Dear Will,

I apologize for leaving without a farewell, but you looked far too comfortable to be disturbed, and frankly you could use the rest. I hope the sofa was not too hard on your shoulder.

It was a pleasure having you at my table again. I find few things are more enjoyable than the society of one’s friends over a warm meal. Perhaps you could join me again this Friday, if you are not too busy.

You will find breakfast on the kitchen counter.  

I would take it as a personal favor if you were to text me when you arrive at home safely

Yours,

Hannibal

H. Lecter [11:32]: I would ask a small favor of you.

H. Lecter [12:01]: If it is not too much trouble.

Missed call from H. Lecter [12:32]

H. Lecter [12:45]: Have you heard from Will Graham today?

A. Bloom [12:48]: No, why?

H. Lecter [12:49]: He is not answering his phone.

A. Bloom [12:53]: Does he have class today?

H. Lecter [12:55]: He does not.

A. Bloom [12:56]: Just a second.

A. Bloom [1:05]: I just checked with his neighbor. He isn’t home.

H. Lecter [1:07]: Please let me know if you hear from him.

A. Bloom [1:10]: I got the feeling you weren’t in his good books lately.

H. Lecter [1:11]: A small disagreement. It has passed.

A. Bloom [1:15]: I’ll let you know.

A. Bloom [1:18]: Will, are you okay? You don’t have to answer Hannibal, but I’m worried.

Missed call from A. Bloom [2:31]

Missed call from A. Bloom [3:46]

Missed call from J. Crawford [4:38]

Missed call from H. Lecter [5:00]

Missed call from B. Katz [5:18]

Missed call from F. Lounds [5:47]

J. Crawford [6:45]: Hannibal, call me.

Chapter Text

W. Graham [8:47]: Why does my hospital room look like a florist’s shop?

H. Lecter [8:52]: Perhaps you are hallucinating again.

W. Graham [9:01]: I thought they wouldn’t deliver to me anymore.

W. Graham [9:05]: Judging by the delivery girl’s face, they thought so, too.

H. Lecter [9:10]: I have no idea what you are talking about.

W. Graham [9:18]: Only you would be corny enough to send flowers that are fucking named after me.

H. Lecter [9:23]: You should be resting. I am surprised they let you keep your phone.

H. Lecter [9:24]: How is your arm?

W. Graham [9:30]: Prone to setting off metal detectors.

H. Lecter [9:35]: You are fortunate it was not worse.

W. Graham [9:42]: My arm is broken, my brain is on fire, and my car is totaled. But yes, tell me again how it could be worse. 

W. Graham [9:46]: Is this the best of all possible worlds, Professor Pangloss?

H. Lecter [9:48]: Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit. 

W. Graham [9:50]: I thought that was psychiatry.

B. Katz [2:45]: I’m bringing junk food and magazines. Playboy or Juggs?

W. Graham [2:50]: American Angler?

B. Katz [2:53]: Boo hiss.

W. Graham [3:00]: I would kill for some KFC.

W. Graham [3:05]: Don’t tell Hannibal.

B. Katz [3:06]: But the look on his face.

W. Graham [3:10]: On second thought, tell Hannibal.

B. Katz [3:13]:  >;3

J. Crawford [4:00]: How long were you walking around with a gun in your holster while seeing little green men?

W. Graham [4:15]: No little green men. Just serial killers and feathery stag monsters. 

J. Crawford [4:18]: That’s not making me feel better.

W. Graham [4:25]: I was never dangerous.

J. Crawford [4:30]: You should have told me.

W. Graham [4:48]: What would it have changed?

W. Graham [4:50]: You knew I was falling apart. Watched it happen.

W. Graham [4:51]: But if it makes you feel better, blame me.

H. Lecter [5:15]: What is this I hear about Kentucky Fried Chicken?

H. Lecter [5:!5]: I know dozens of methods for preparing chicken, any of which would be more satisfying and more healthful than that processed refused.

W. Graham [5:18]: Have you ever eaten KFC?

W. Graham [5:20]: There’s enough for two.

H. Lecter [5:25]: Is that an invitation?

H. Lecter [5:26]]: I will be there in an hour. Please refrain from eating anything served in a bucket.

E. Pritchard [6:18]: Hannibal, talk to your patient about sitting the fuck down when he’s recovering from encephalitis, bruised ribs, and a fucking fractured arm.

H. Lecter [6:19]: Ah, Elizabeth. How wonderful to hear from you. Tell me, how is your wife?

E. Pritchard [6:23]: If I hadn’t just finished fixing him, I would drop-kick his ass myself.

H. Lecter [6:30]: Your concern for your patients is admirable.

E. Pritchard [6:32]: And tell him to let the nurses do their goddamn job. He made three of them cry yesterday.

E. Pritchard [6:35]: Not to mention the fucking residents.

H. Lecter [6:43]: A thicker skin will serve them well in life.

E. Pritchard [6:50]: And yet somehow, Davidson wants to know if he’s single.

H. Lecter [6:51]: He is not.

E. Pritchard [6:55]: Guess a pretty face counts for a hell of a lot.

Chapter Text

B. Katz [11:59]: Who’s Will shacked up with?

A. Bloom [12:05]: Who said he’s shacked up?

B. Katz [12:08]: I heard the nurses gossiping about it. Apparently half of them are heartbroken and half of them are stunned.

A. Bloom [12:10]: Stunned?

B. Katz [12:15]: Word on the street is he’s not the most tolerant patient.

A. Bloom [12:16]: I see.

B. Katz [12:16]: And did you see all those flowers? Holy crap.

B. Katz [12:17]: Somebody’s got it BAD.

A. Bloom [12:20]: How do you know they’re not from different people?

B. Katz [12:22]: They all had the same florist’s tag.

A. Bloom [12:30]: Weird. He hasn’t said anything about it.

B. Katz [12:31]: Who does he hang out with?

A. Bloom [12:35]: His hospital room’s been deserted. It’s just been you, me, Jack, and Hannibal that I know of.

B. Katz [12:50]: I think Price brought him a quiche.

A. Bloom [12:56]: Pretty sure he’s not dating Price.

B. Katz [1:00]: His loss. It was a pretty good quiche.

B. Katz [1:15]: Is it you? You can tell me if it’s you.

A. Bloom [1:28]: No. I’ve thought about it, but I’m still sort of reeling from a breakup.

B. Katz [1:30]: Ugh. What was his name?

A. Bloom [1:42]: Sarah.

B. Katz [1:43]: She sounds like a bitch.

A. Bloom [1:50]: She was a social worker for inner city children.

B. Katz [1:53]: Damn. I got nothin. How long has it been?

A. Bloom [1:55]: Three years.

B. Katz [1:56]: That’s it. If you won’t take a ride on the Graham Cracker train, I’m taking you clubbing.

A. Bloom [2:15]: …

B. Katz [2:16]: You know. As friends.

B. Katz [2:35]: Unless you’d like it to be the other thing.

B. Katz [2:48]: …I’ll be over here now, jamming my foot into my mouth.

H. Lecter [10:15]: I am told you are neglecting your recovery.

W. Graham [10:18]: Good morning to you, too. Who are you, my mother?

H. Lecter [10:25]: One does not need family bonds to worry about the welfare of a friend.

W. Graham [10:28]: Oh, god. You ARE mothering me.

H. Lecter [10:30]: I dislike that implication.

W. Graham [10:31]: You made me chicken soup.

H. Lecter [10:35]: Of which you ate every bite.

W. Graham [10:37]: What was I supposed to do? You threw out my KFC.

W. Graham [10:38]: You stole from a defenseless, injured man.

H. Lecter: [10:43] I could allow you to survive on hospital food.

W. Graham [10:45]: Bullshit. You looked at Price’s quiche like it insulted your suit.

H. Lecter [11:00]: The crust was clearly store bought.

W. Graham [11:02]: It was fucking delicious.

H. Lecter [11:05]: We really must train your palate.

W. Graham [11:06]: So I can hate everything good, too?

H. Lecter [11:10]: So you can fully appreciate the finer things in life.

W. Graham [11:20]: Are you one of those finer things?

H. Lecter [11:35]: I suppose I am an acquired taste.

W. Graham [11:39]: I’m not touching that with a ten foot pole.

Dear Hanni,

I find myself confused. Here I am, a suave, metrosexual psychiatrist whose only hobbies appear to be cooking gourmet meals, going to the opera in bespoke suits, and giving bad advice. Recently I made the most ridiculous romantic overture—at a colleague no less. Now I am beset with an urge to cook him chicken soup and nag him about his health. I’m also apparently determined to buy out the local florist. It’s obvious that I have no idea what I’m doing. Please help me make sense of this bullshit.

Sincerely,

Psychoanalysis is the Lowest Form of Wit

Chapter Text

H. Lecter [2:23]: Is there something you wish to discuss?

W. Graham [2:28]: No, why?

-

A. Bloom [5:38]: I’m not much for clubbing, but there’s a Louise Wheatley exhibit at the BMA I’ve been meaning to see.

B. Katz [5:40]: Who?

A. Bloom [5:48]: She does tapestries.

A. Bloom [5:49]: They’re beautiful.

A. Bloom [6:01]: I’m not actually very good at this.

B. Katz [6:05]: Neither am I, obviously.

B. Katz [6:08]: Omg, I just looked it up and there’s a Guerrilla Girls exhibit, too! I’m so in.

A. Bloom [6:10]: I’m free on Saturday.

B. Katz [6:13]: I am, too, as long as no one gets murdered.

A. Bloom [6:15]: Let’s hope no one gets murdered.

A. Bloom [6:16]: I mean, not that I’d normally want people to be murdered.

A. Bloom [6:17]: I just especially don’t want them to be murdered on Saturday.

B. Katz [6:20]: I got ya.

-

B. Katz [1:23]: …so about that…

[http://www.tattlecrime.com/story/2134…]

A. Bloom [1:38]: Shit.

-

CHESAPEAKE RIPPER STRIKES AGAIN!

Tattle Crime EXCLUSIVE! by Freddie Lounds

The FBI has really gone to the dogs, once again giving the Chesapeake Ripper free reign to terrorize citizens. It must have something to do with resident psychopath Will Graham’s established hard-on for his favorite killer. Now that Graham is out of commission, perhaps the FBI will use real agents to put an end to this mockery of an investigation.

Sources familiar with the case say FBI reject Will Graham is being hospitalized with encephalitis, a condition that can cause mood swings, hallucinations and violent outbursts. Delivery specialist Cindy L. spoke with us about Graham’s erratic behavior at his Wolf Trap, Virginia home:

“He was freaking scary,” she said. “All I did was try to deliver some flowers. Who doesn’t like flowers? Boss had to give the guy his money back. He’s blacklisted now. Do you know how hard it is to get blacklisted by a florist?”

Nurses responsible for his care confirm Graham’s unstable behavior, as well as further floral deliveries from an as-yet unidentified boyfriend, who must be willing to look past his multitude of personality disorders.

Putting aside Graham’s many issues, this latest murder is a doozy. Louisiana resident Teddy Boudreau was found early Friday morning in a New Orleans animal shelter—that is to say, parts of him were found.

(Read more…)  

-

J. Crawford has sent an attachment. [Click to download]

W. Graham [5:14]: What the fuck, Jack? It’s 5am and you sent me someone’s heart on a platter.

W. Graham [5:15]: Literally.

W. Graham [5:20]: …Is that dog eating what I think he’s eating?

J. Crawford [5:21]: Yes.

J. Crawford [5:22]: I need to know if it’s him.

W. Graham [5:24]: Who?

J. Crawford[5:25]: You know who.

W. Graham [5:30]: A grainy cellphone photo isn’t much to go on.

J. Crawford [5:31]: Great, I’ll bring you the hard copies.

W. Graham [5:45]: Aren’t you afraid I’ll see little green men?

J. Crawford [5:50]: That was hitting below the belt. I apologize.

W. Graham [5:55]: Because I’m useful to you now.

W. Graham [6:01]: If you’re coming, you’d better bring fucking coffee.

-

J. Crawford [6:15]: I need access to Will Graham.

E. Pritchard [6:25]: How did you get this number?

J. Crawford [6:26]: I’m FBI. Your nurses are hampering a federal investigation.

E. Pritchard [6:30]: Is Mr. Graham a suspect?

J. Crawford [6:32]: No, he’s a highly valuable resource.

E. Pritchard [6:35]: He’s not going to be anyone’s resource if you don’t leave him the fuck alone and let him recover.

J. Crawford [6:36]: What part of federal investigation do you not understand?

E. Pritchard [6:43]: The part where you don’t have a warrant.

-

E. Pritchard [7:01]: You were right. Fucker tried to wake Graham up at ass-thirty in the morning.

H. Lecter [7:05]: You barred him from entry?

E. Pritchard [7:11]: With pleasure.

H. Lecter [7:15]: I appreciate your commitment to Mr. Graham’s recovery.

E. Pritchard [7:35]: Anything for a friend.

-

Dear Wit,

I am sure you are more complex than the manner in which you have presented yourself. There is certainly no shame in appreciating the finer things in life. You sound like a gentleman of distinction.

It is clear that you have made every effort ensure your colleague feels safe and desired. However, romance requires two, and your colleague is an unknown factor. If he is indifferent to your advances, you may drive him away by forcing the issue.

Or perhaps it is fear that motivates him. Many hesitate to cross the boundaries of propriety, believing incorrectly that a safe and comfortable life somehow surpasses a life thoroughly lived. Perhaps he guards his heart knowing that it is both softer and bloodier than he wishes to believe.

You have done all you can. The ball is, as they say, in his court. Does he have the courage to play? That remains to be seen.

Yours,

Hanni

Chapter Text

E. Pritchard [7:38]: TALK TO YOUR FUCKING PATIENT, LECTER.

H. Lecter [7:43] Good morning, Elizabeth. How pleasant to hear from you.

E. Pritchard [7:50]: FUCKER CHECKED HIMSELF OUT AMA.

H. Lecter [7:54]: That is most distressing.

E. Pritchard [8:01]: Does he WANT his fucking brain to fry? Because he's obviously not using it.

H. Lecter [8:05]: I'm afraid Will is more concerned with his work than his safety.

E. Pritchard [8:07]: He can't profile assholes if his brain's a fried bologna sandwich.

H. Lecter [8:14]: If you send me his discharge instructions, I will do my best to ensure he follows them.

E. Pritchard [8:15]: If he doesn't, I'm shoving that AMA up his ASS.

H. Lecter [8:22]: I will apprise him of the situation.

E. Pritchard [8:25]: Will Graham should be in bed, you fucking asshole.

J. Crawford [8:33]: I am not responsible for Will Graham.

E. Pritchard [8:35]: You're responsible if he ignores fucking medical advice.

E. Pritchard [8:36]: If he collapses in the fucking field, that's on your head.

J. Crawford [8:37]: I have faith in Will.

E. Pritchard [8:43]: He can't willpower his way out of fucking encephalitis, G-man.

J. Crawford [8:45]: You know there are other words you can use besides “fucking,” don't you?

E. Pritchard [8:47]: Not to my fucking knowledge.

H. Lecter [9:01]: As your physician, I must advise against this.

W. Graham [9:05]: You're my therapist, not my doctor.

H. Lecter [9:08]: I am responsible for your wellbeing.

W. Graham [9:15]: No one asked you to do that.

H. Lecter [9:18]: Is it so hard to believe I would care for you?

W. Graham [9:20]: Yes. Yes, it is.

W. Graham [9:21]: Have you always been obsessed with giving unwanted advice?

H. Lecter [9:25]: Whether you believe it or not, my advice is actually in high demand.

W. Graham [9:38]: How did you end up being “Hanni,” anyway? It's not the most subtle pseudonym.

H. Lecter [9:45]: It was an error on the part of the publisher. By the time it was detected, the column had already achieved a level of notoriety.

H. Lecter [9:47]: It was also the nickname given to me by my sister. They had no way of knowing that, of course.

W. Graham [9:51]: You miss her.

H. Lecter [10:05]: She has been gone for decades. Longer than she ever lived.

H. Lecter [10:08]: Yes. Every day.

W. Graham [10:10]: I'm sorry.

H. Lecter [10:13]: Her memory does not pain me anymore.

H. Lecter [10:15]: I only ask that you take care of yourself, so that I do not have another loss to regret.

W. Graham [10:22]: What am I supposed to do, let people die?

H. Lecter [10:23]: You are my friend, Will. I don't care about the lives you save.

H. Lecter [10:24]: I care about your life.

W. Graham [10:35]: I'll be careful.

H. Lecter [10:36]: See to it that you are.

B. Katz [11:08]: I heard you busted out of jail.

W. Graham [11:10]: The hospital isn't jail, it just feels like it.

B. Katz [11:13]: You sure all your screws are still in one basket?

W. Graham [11:15]: I'm pretty sure that's not how you say that.

B. Katz [11:20]: Says the neuro patient.

W. Graham [11:23]: Your sensitivity and concern are overwhelming.

B. Katz [11:25]: Yeah, yeah. There's a reason I work with dead people.

B. Katz [11:28]: What's this I hear about you having a boyfriend?

W. Graham [11:30]: I don't have a fucking boyfriend.

B. Katz [11:31]: So are you a homophobe?

W. Graham [11:31]: NO.

W. Graham [11:35]: I'm just tired of being asked. I wish I'd never met Freddie Lounds.

W. Graham [11:42]: Fuck, I'm bad at this. You're not hitting on me, are you?

B. Katz [11:45]: I like a little less leg hair.

W. Graham [11:46]: Fair enough.

B. Katz [11:50]: And facial hair.

W. Graham [11:55]: Okay.

B. Katz [12:01]: And penis.

W. Graham [12:04]: …when you say “a little less,” should I be offended?

B. Katz [12:05]: Would it make you feel better if I said “a lot less” ?

W. Graham [12:07]: Yeah, probably.

B. Katz [12:10]: Then let's pretend I did.

W. Graham [12:15]: Was there a reason you texted me?

B. Katz [12:22]: Making sure you didn't wrap your car around another tree.

W. Graham [12:31]: I think it's safe to say that I haven't.

W. Graham [3:15]: Fuck.

H. Lecter [3:21]: Hello, Will.

H. Lecter [3:22]: Are you back to pelting me with obscenities?

W. Graham [3:22]: Fuck. No.

W. Graham [3:23]: It's just... I knew him.

H. Lecter [3:25]: Knew whom?

W. Graham [3:26]: The victim. Teddy Boudreau.

W. Graham [3:27]: We talked about him.

H. Lecter [3:35]: His name does not ring a bell.

W. Graham [3:36]: I never called him by name.

H. Lecter [3:40]: In what capacity did you know this man?

W. Graham [3:40]: We went to school together.

H. Lecter [3:42]: You were friends, then?

W. Graham [3:43]: You know me. I didn't have friends, I had people who hated me less.

W. Graham [3:44]: He wasn't one of them.

H. Lecter [3:46]: I see.

W. Graham [3:47]: That story I told you about the dog at the docks... that was him.

H. Lecter [3:52]: Do you suppose he's maintained a similar pattern of violence since his youth?

W. Graham [3:53]: That's what I'm going to find out.

W. Graham [3:54]: What was he even doing down here?

H. Lecter [3:58]: The victim?

W. Graham [3:59]: No, the Ripper.

H. Lecter [4:04]: I'm afraid I do not know.

W. Graham [4:05]: Right, sorry. Just... thinking aloud. More or less.

H. Lecter [4:06]: I am always glad to assist a friend.

W. Graham [4:15]: Right. A friend.

Chapter Text

J. Crawford [8:15]: We've got another one.

W. Graham [8:35]: Another what?

J. Crawford has sent an attachment. [Click to download]

W. Graham [8:39]: Jesus. Louisiana again?

J. Crawford [8:42]: No, Tennessee.

W. Graham [8:45]: First a heart, then a liver. What is he trying to prove?

J. Crawford [8:49]: That's what I have you for.

-

W. Graham [9:45]: Something came up. Can you feed the dogs for a few days?

H. Lecter [9:50]: It would be my pleasure. I daresay they enjoy my cooking.

W. Graham [9:52]: You're going to spoil them.

H. Lecter [9:57]: I could hardly exacerbate the situation.

W. Graham [10:01]: Who uses words like “exacerbate” over text?

H. Lecter [10:06]: I believe that would be obvious.

W. Graham [10:49]: Any clue why someone would give a liver as a gift?

H. Lecter [11:00]: It is hardly a traditional choice, but the liver has significance in a variety of cultures. Some religions viewed it as the seat of the soul, more vital than the heart or brain. It has been depicted as the site of courage, anger, and other strong emotions.

W. Graham [11:09]: I see.

W. Graham [11:15]: Thanks.

-

J. Crawford [6:45]: Is there something you're not telling me?

W. Graham [6:51]: Are you accusing me of something, Jack?

J. Crawford [6:54]: No.

W. Graham [6:55]: There's nothing I'm not telling you.

W. Graham [7:01]: Do you really think I took down two men with a broken arm? From a hospital bed?

J. Crawford [7:05]: You know how this looks, Will.

W. Graham [7:08]: If I were going to murder someone, I'd be a lot smarter about it.

J. Crawford [7:15]: Maybe don't say things like that from now on.

W. Graham [7:19]: For fuck's sake.

J. Crawford [7:25]: I think it's best if we take you off the case.

W. Graham [7:27]: Tell me something I don't know.

-

H. Lecter [7:45]: Do you anticipate being home by Friday?

W. Graham [7:51]: Tomorrow morning, actually.

H. Lecter [7:56]: So soon? You must have made excellent progress.

W. Graham [7:59]: No. I'm off the case.

H. Lecter [8:04]: Has Jack finally decided to keep his teacup in the cupboard?

W. Graham [8:08]: No.

W. Graham [8:15]:There's a conflict of interest.

H. Lecter [8:20]: What sort of conflict?

W. Graham [8:23]: I knew him.

W. Graham [8:24]: Just like I knew Teddy Boudreau.

W. Graham [8:27]: He was my teacher in eighth grade. Always used to complain about government handouts while staring at me.

W. Graham [8:28]: Everybody knew I was poor. That I got lunch for free.

W. Graham [8:30]: Someone jammed a stack of quarters down his throat. His esophagus burst.

H. Lecter [8:35]: That sounds like a horrific death, even for one so heartless as he.

W. Graham [8:38]: Jack is acting like this is somehow MY fault.

H. Lecter [8:43]: You could hardly have been in two places at once.

W. Graham [8:46]: Anyway. What was that about Friday?

H. Lecter [8:51]: I would love to have you for dinner, if you're amenable.

W. Graham [9:05]: Not like I have anything else to do.

Chapter Text

IT TAKES ONE TO KNOW ONE...A LITTLE TOO WELL!

by Freddie Lounds

Resident psychopath Will Graham has been taken off the Chesapeake Ripper case. The FBI refuses to make a public comment on his dismissal, but sources familiar with the case report a series of incredibly suspicious connections between Graham and the victims.

When asked for comment, Graham gave the following statement: “If I am a killer, you should be more concerned about your safety. Or is dismemberment a standard job hazard for someone like you?”

We look forward to covering Graham's trial any day now.

To: Graham, W.

From: slickking32

Subject: U KILLED MY BRUTHER U SICK FREAK

I KNOW WHER U FUCKIN LIVE

UR GONNA GET RIPPED

FUCKER

To: Graham, W.

From: Smith, Jane L.

Subject: Tremble before GOD

GOD knows what u have done!

REPENT SINER or BURN IN HELL!!!

GOD ***HATES*** MURDERING ****FAGS****

 To: Graham, W.

From: kristiroxxx

Subject: hey there :-)

Dear Will,

I've never written to someone like you before, but I find you really fascinating, and...well...more than a bit sexy. ;-) It sounds like those people got what they deserved.

I can tell you're really intelligent. I am, too. Do you want to meet up?

xxx,

Kristi

W. Graham [4:35]: Did you have to give out my email address?

F. Lounds [4:48]: Did you have to stuff that guy full of quarters like a pinball machine?

W. Graham [4:50]: Jesus, Freddie.

 J. Crawford [6:13]: I could still use your input on those crime scene photos.

H. Lecter [6:15]: It would be my pleasure.

J. Crawford [6:16]: I'll bring them by your office tomorrow after work.

H. Lecter [6:18]: Actually, I will be working from my home tomorrow. Would you mind bringing them to me there?

H. Lecter [6:18]: Perhaps you could join me for dinner.

J. Crawford [6:20]: I wouldn't miss it.

W. Graham [7:01]: Do you need me to bring anything tomorrow?

H. Lecter [7:06]: Only yourself, my dear friend.

W. Graham [7:15]: You keep using that word, but I don't think you know what it means.

H. Lecter [7:20]: I think you'll find I am an excellent friend.

W. Graham [7:22]: Right. What's on the menu?

H. Lecter [7:27]: I don't wish to spoil the surprise. A hint of suspense adds savor to a meal.

W. Graham [7:28]: Either that or you haven't figured it out yet.

H. Lecter [7:33]: Trust me, Will. I put a great deal of thought and effort into this dish.

W. Graham [7:35]: Thanks, I guess?

Chapter Text

GAY SERIAL KILLER NIGHTMARE!

by Freddie Lounds

Resident psychopath Will Graham appears to have kidnapped his psychiatrist, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, and mutilated his boss in the same house. The two men had previously consulted on Graham's own crimes during his tenure as a special investigator with the FBI.

The house, located in a quiet Baltimore suburb, was a grizzly scene, with Agent Jack Crawford found eviscerated in front of a table set with figs, honey, and heart tartar. Lecter has been confirmed as Graham's secret admirer from his recent hospitalization for encephalitis. “He sent, like, a crazy amount of flowers,” our source confirmed.

It appears Lecter was blinded to Graham's murderous nature and interpersonal deficiencies. Unfortunately, in this case, he seems to have paid the ultimate price for his poor judgment. For more on their ill-advised affair, see the [Tattle Crime Message Boards].

Agent Crawford is currently in critical condition at Baltimore General. FBI officials have declined to comment on the astounding failures surrounding this investigation.

A. Bloom [3:17]: Will?

A. Bloom [3:35]: Are you ok?

A. Bloom [3:59]: Please answer.

My dear readers,

For over three years, you have trusted me in matters of the heart, and I have done my best to earn that trust. It is with a deep regret that I must tell you those days are at an end.

You see, I have taken my own advice. For many years, I thought my lot was to counsel others on their romantic decisions. I considered myself immune to the depredations of affection. However, recent events have shown me even I am not armored against the prick of Cupid's arrow.

The individual fate has chosen for me is not what I expected. He is brash, unkempt, and frequently rude. He would likewise tell you that I am pretentious, overbearing, and almost wholly without morals.

He would also be correct.

There is no accounting for taste.

I leave you, dear readers, with advice I have given in the past, but which still holds true: only you can decide whether to let love consume you. I hope you choose to do so.

Yours,

Hanni

Unknown number [9:15]: Don't try to find me, Alana.

Unknown number [9:18]: Give Beverly my best.

The beach is nearly empty at this time of day, save for a man sunburnt man watching the tides with a shaggy dog sprawled across his lap. Two more dogs lie curled by his feet, and another runs along the shore, snapping at the waves. A newspaper lies forgotten beside him as the shrill cries of gulls ring overhead.

After some time, another man approaches. His tailored suit is not appropriate for the beach, but he wears it with ease and grace.

“You're looking a tad overcooked,” Hannibal says.

Will shrugs, watching the dog playing in the surf.

“I made us breakfast,” Hannibal adds.

He makes as if to reach for Will, then stops, fingers curling in on themselves.

“I suppose you are not hungry.”

Will blinks slowly, then looks up as if noticing Hannibal for the first time.

“Are you coming?”

“Yeah,” Will says, pulling himself to his feet. “Let's go home.”

Before they go, Will takes a last look at his newspaper, a lurid thing with exotic headlines and doctored photographs. He glances at the cover one last time before crushing it into a ball and tossing it into the sea.

As the men leave the beach with dogs in tow, their hands brush slightly. Neither of them appears to notice.

Behind them, the cheap newsprint dissolves in the crashing surf.