Chapter Text
In the early hours of the morning, Professor Will Graham and Jack Crawford, head of the Behavioral Science Unit, walked side by side along the campus of the FBI Academy. Graham, on his way to give a lecture, was listening to Jack with visible annoyance on his face. He stared straight ahead, hands in his pockets, clearly drained by having to interact with someone else. Any outsider would think that the two men were enemies; both were stomping along the field with furrowed brows, muttering angrily to each other.
"I'm afraid you have to do it, Will," Jack said. "I'm not letting you go any further without some help."
"I can take care of myself."
"No, you've already proven to me that you can't. You had a breakdown at the scene yesterday." Jack sighed. "You're talented. You've given me nothing but useful information. I just think you need a little guidance."
"I don't need to talk out my feelings like some troubled teenager." Will stared intently at the ground as he walked. "I just need to build up the calluses. It's been a while since I've been back on the field; you've gotta give me some time."
A group of young girls, all unrelated to each other and yet so similar in their physical traits, had gone missing over the past few months. They all shared the same dark hair and blue eyes, the same height and weight, and the same complexion. Whoever was going after them had a type, and he wasn't afraid to show it. He'd eluded the FBI for a long time, but then one of his victims turned up dead instead of missing. That had been Jack's final straw — he'd enlisted Will's help, despite Will not taking part in active crime scenes for a few years now. His profiling skills were everything Jack needed.
Although he would never say it, Will had forgotten about how terrible being on the scene made him feel. There was a reason he'd left in the first place, instead choosing to pursue the mundane life of teaching. Seeing that poor girl at the scene, the body of Elise Nichols, had made him tremble. Tears had slipped out against his will, but he quickly wiped them away. He was stronger than that— it had simply been a while since he'd looked at a crime scene. He could build up the courage again. He didn't need anyone's help.
Jack Crawford seemed to think the opposite, though.
"I'm not going to be the one to break you. I won't be responsible for it. Everyone could use a little help, Will. Nothing to be ashamed of." Jack nudged him. "Hell, I would love to get some free therapy."
Will held back a scoff of indignation. "I don't need to be coddled. I don't want any of that 'how does that make you feel' shit. Lying on the couch and talking about my problems. I don't even know how I feel most of the time."
"Don't be stubborn. Doctor Lecter isn't that type of psychiatrist."
Will raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't I be the judge of that?"
"You know I'd bring you nothing but the best. He's the top of his class, Georgetown and Hopkins. I trust him to take care of you."
"So you've already booked me an appointment."
"Hopefully many appointments. I want you to meet him on Thursday. He'll be stopping by to get a general idea of the situation. Not a session, just meeting you."
"Did Alana Bloom put you up to this?"
"I put myself up to it. But she gave the recommendation, and I think you should take it." Jack frowned at him. "Or else I won't let you back on the field. Not in the state you're in."
"Jack. I know how to take care of myself. How many times do I have to say it?"
"You need to give it a try. Unless you're looking for a way out — which, if you are, now's the perfect time to take it. Your refusal is a one-way ticket back into that classroom, and then none of us will find out who's killing all these girls." His voice raised, and a few bystanders turned their heads to look. They quickly swiveled away, though, once they saw who they were staring at; no one wanted to be in Crawford's bad books. "So, what's it gonna be, Will?"
Will closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'll talk to him," he agreed with a sigh, "but I can't promise we'll click."
"Doctor Lecter is very skilled at getting the results he wants. If he wants to click with you, he will."
"That's a little ominous, Jack. You can quit reading from Alana's script." The two came to a stop outside the lecture hall, and Will shifted the heavy bag on his shoulder. Jack took that as a sign to leave.
"Well, then, wait until you meet him." He put his hand on Will's shoulder. "We can take it a little bit at a time, okay? It'll all be good."
Before Will could object, Jack began to walk away, leaving him to his class. Will stood there for a long while with his feet planted firmly on the walkway, only turning away when he could no longer see Jack in even the farthest reaches of his vision.
~~~
That evening, as the sun was sinking into the ground and the moon was quickly approaching, Hannibal Lecter sat to himself and played his harpsichord. He had been playing since he was a boy. His hands were nimble and experienced, moving quickly along the keys to create a beautiful melody. It was his own creation, a song that he had pieced together in his spare time, and it was finally coming together. Music was something so pure to him, something that could capture and create so much emotion in mere seconds.
He reached the emotional climax of the piece, increasing in volume as the minor chords rang through his big and empty home. It was cold inside, just the way he liked it, and that combined with the music sent chills up his arms.
This piece was lonely. It was empty and heartbroken. He closed his eyes and let the vision of the past overtake his memory. The music continued; he didn't need to see to play perfectly.
He felt his heart sink. It was like he was falling through the deepest depths of the Earth, down to its core and even further. He felt a crucial part of himself dying all over again.
Hannibal opened his eyes, gasping faintly. The final chord of the song had finished ringing out a long time ago.
It was cold inside the house. Big and empty. Just the way he liked it.
He sat on the bench with his head buried in his hands, silent and unmoving for a long while.
~~~
Will awoke in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, his breathing rough and ragged. He wasn't sure what had disturbed his sleep. All of his dogs were asleep at the other end of the room, and he couldn't remember any bad dreams. Frustrated, he rubbed his face and peeked at the nightstand clock — 3:24 AM. Great. He needed every minute of sleep he could get nowadays, and this wasn't helping his mental state.
He heard a faint rustling coming from somewhere near him. It sounded like a mouse in his walls, a quiet scurrying that was easy enough to ignore. Soon, however, it turned into an audible creaking, a sound that Will recognized all too well: it was the sound of someone walking across his floorboards. He heard bare feet across the hardwood. He heard ragged breathing.
He wanted to sit up and run somewhere else, to grab a weapon or get out of the home, but he was completely trapped. He couldn't move a muscle. He chose to close his eyes instead, bracing himself.
Then, he felt a sudden weight sink onto the other side of the bed. It was heavy enough to make the springs creak, the weight of another human body.
He opened his eyes. The body of Elise Nichols lay supine next to him, her glassy eyes fixated on the ceiling. Will felt his chest tighten, and the stench of rotting flesh assaulted his nose. He could hear flies buzzing somewhere in the distance. His heart raced, but he couldn't get out of the bed. He couldn't move at all anymore.
Slowly, the corpse began to turn her head, the bones in her neck cracking one by one. Her face was grey, the skin waxy, and she parted her blue lips and sighed rancid, sour breath into Will's face. Will held back a gag.
"Help me," she rasped. "Help me."
He was used to this. It was a common occurrence, to see the ghost of someone lost. It always left him paralyzed, unable to do anything but stare. He watched the girl reach her arm outwards, grasping for something behind them.
He felt a freezing palm on the back of his neck. Her fingers crept towards the front of his throat, and before Will could react she had both of her hands around him, choking him. Will's body sprung into action then, and the adrenaline flowing through his muscles helped return the sensation to his limbs. He kicked out, trying to pry her hands away, but she was surprisingly strong.
"Help me!" She shrieked, her voice echoing loudly. Will coughed.
"No," he was able to rasp out. "I can't."
Elise began to scream. It rang throughout the room, an anguished, high-pitched sound that made Will want to cover his ears. She was in pain. She was terrified. Her screams multiplied, becoming the cries of many, many girls just like her.
"God, stop!" Will cried. "Someone please...just— just make it stop!"
Someone pulled a thick piece of wool over his head, and his vision and hearing faded away. The hands around his neck faded, and he could breathe again. His body was weighed down by lead, leaving him floating in a vast black ocean. Everything was silent. There were no screams. He was sleepy, serene.
Will.
Will opened his eyes at the sound of his name. He saw no one there. "...Hello?"
I am here, Will. Do you see me?
He couldn't figure out who was speaking to him. It sounded like a crowd of people, but when he focused on it hard enough, he could sense all of the individual voices combining into one strong tone. It wasn't male or female. He wasn't sure if it was even human.
He opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by the sudden sensation of something poking him in the back. He lifted his arms to see the velvety bones of infinite deer antlers creeping underneath him. Splitting apart and twisting like the roots of a rapidly growing plant. They were holding him up, carrying him. They stretched on forever, far past his line of vision, weaving underneath his legs now. He was sitting on a chair made of antlers, unable to move.
"I...I see something." Something tickled the back of his neck. Dark vines swept upwards through his hair, lining his scalp, and began to hang down over his eyes. He couldn't brush them away. The antlers began to pin him down, wrapping around his wrists and waist, but he made no struggle to get out.
Good. It sounded pleased. I know exactly what you need, Will. And soon, it will be offered to you. You will get everything you've ever wanted. But you must follow me.
"I don't — What?" Will's wrists were pinned down by velvety restraints. His waist was strapped to the chair. Still, his brain did not panic. This felt natural. "I don't understand."
It is quiet that you want. Yes?
"Yes." The word slipped out without any effort, like someone had tugged it out from his brain. It felt good to agree.
Peace and quiet wait for you. But you must accept the creature that inhabits you first.
"What do you mean? What do I have to do?"
You will know when the time comes. Remember the sensation of quiet. Remember how desperately you want it.
"Please, I just— can you tell me what any of this means?"
You will know very soon. When the stag grows its horns and the fog envelops all, accept what is offered to you. Do you understand?
"I don't know."
Repeat it for me.
"When the stag grows its horns and the fog envelops all, accept what is offered to me," he said, entirely compelled by some primal desire within him. It was pulsing through the middle of his chest, this burning need to follow, to comprehend.
Good. You will remember this. Soon, you will know everything.
Before Will could ask for more answers, the antlers rapidly withdrew. The screaming returned, piercing his ears after such a peaceful quiet, and he winced in pain and shock. It got louder, and louder, and louder, and--
And then he opened his eyes.
Early-morning sunlight spilled in through the window. Elise was gone. She'd never been there.
The horrid screeching sound was still going on. Will reached over and shut off his alarm clock, shrouding the room in silence. One of the dogs started nuzzling its cold nose into the palm of his hand, and he groaned. He was exhausted, as always. Sleep could never come to him anymore, not with visions like that.
But he'd never had one like that before. He'd never heard that voice, never imagined antlers and vines. The words the entity said were still ringing through his head, and he was desperate to know what they meant.
He must be losing his mind. And that meant he needed help as soon as possible. Something like this couldn't be ignored any longer.
He reluctantly picked up his phone, and with his knees curled up to his chest he called Jack.
"Hello?"
"I'll talk to Doctor Lecter," Will said. "But I need it to be today."
All morning, he couldn't shake the feeling of velvet against his wrists and vines creeping up his skull.