Joining the enabling castmates drive for exitvoid

[eidetikerwill]

[Gin swirls in a slow circle in his tumbler, joined by the weak tonic water that went over a long time ago. Isn't like Will is picky by this point.]

The nightmares are getting worse. I'm starting to wonder if they're creeping in during the daylight now or if I'm really seeing the things I do. It's an experiment in fear. I get that much.

[A sigh, drawing the glass to rest against his forehead with eyes closed - but only closed for a short time. Tiredness is etched on every line of his face but better to be awake until some sort of safety comes around.]

I know there could be two of anyone here like there were two Sherlocks. Or two of me. Two of anyone. Two of him. That doesn't make me feel any better. Just let me have another drink and try to keep everything from killing me. There's a lot willing to.

Comments

[avoirfaim]

You don't look well, William.

[ one of the many traits of someone with a mind like Hannibal's is the ability to accept the unusual as not only possible, but potentially true. So this Will Graham has a different face, is from a future where he's been caught, so what? Perhaps the fact that things are seemingly different means that he won't end up in a similar situation with the face he does know.

Well, a serial killer can hope. ]

I can't imagine your liver would fare particularly well pickled.

[eidetikerwill]

[A glance up meets the voice, eyes needing a second to focus in on the man across the room. Instead of sitting up straight, he slouches in his chair. While he's heard tales of what another version of himself or Hannibal Lecter might look like, he hasn't seen him.]

[Instead of looking away, he meets the doctor's gaze head-on, lifting the tumbler to his mouth for a drink in defiance.]

Could ask how you know me. Doubt you'd tell me. You don't look like the sort.

As for my liver, does it matter? Here on the Charon, no one stays dead for more than a few hours. Isn't often we get good alcohol.

[To his knowledge, Hannibal Lecter is the man left in the cell he saw only a few days ago, not this man before him.]

[avoirfaim]

[An interesting development indeed, direct eye contact and the idea that people don't stay dead. In a world where people don't stay dead, his lifestyle would need a rather radical change.

Interesting.]

You don't know who I am. Why do you think I wouldn't tell you?

[eidetikerwill]

[Will Graham doesn't hesitate to make that contact with liquid courage running through his veins. If the glint of maroon disturbs him, he shows no sign of it. While he lives side by side with fear more often than not, he's gotten better (or so he believes) at not showing it. After all, he's stood before Hannibal Lecter without the benefit of glass and chains, lived to tell the tale after Lecter's knife cut into him. Few others can claim the same.]

Information is scarce around here. None of us give much out unless we have to or feel like it. [FBI special investigator? Him? Oh no. Most think he's simply Will Graham, engine repairman.]

Knowing who you are wouldn't make a difference. Not here. [Strangers he can deal with. It's that one face he's looking for that he hasn't seen yet.] If you wanted me to know who you were, you'd tell me instead of asking me why. Wouldn't you?

[avoirfaim]

[Ah, there he is, underneath the alcohol, the years, the different face. There is Will Graham, staring right back at him, and Hannibal will leave it to Will himself to break their eye contact. He doesn't himself, watching, listening, smiling.]

I would say that reluctance to give much out about ourselves is a human condition, rather than one specific to here. As for knowing who I am, I think it would make quite a difference indeed.

[eidetikerwill]

[Time healing all wounds was a lie in the world of Will Graham. He watches Lecter still, reaching for that silver line. When he speaks, Hannibal's own accent that slides off his tongue, twists around his words instead of Will's own bayou Louisiana.]

That depends on who you are. Some like to have others know about them.

[Not Will, no. Not when he's often looked at as the king snake left along to keep the cottonmouths away. There's that twitch in his mind, that deeper gaze into the bloodclot maroon of Hannibal's eyes. And when you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you flickers through his mind. A swirl of gin, a swallow of the juniper liquor with sharp eyes watching him over the rim.]

I think you want to tell me. Don't know why.

[avoirfaim]

[ Not a shift, not a change in maroon eyes, as the king snake assesses the bird of prey. Not even a blink. if you stare into the face of evil, evil is going to look right back at you. ]

I think you know, Will.

[ Knows who he is? Knows why he wants to tell him? Well, that he leaves to Will's spectacular brain to mull on. ]

[eidetikerwill]

[He has to give a short laugh. He must. It's better than the sigh of a scarred mongoose who endured a dance against this cobra once already. The sharpness of Lecter's accent leaves his words, forced out while Graham still can.]

Doctor Lecter. You look different.

[Younger and stronger, not good things in Will's opinion. They must be the same age now instead of Lecter a decade or more his elder. He has to wonder if this Lecter is fast, so damned fast, as his Lecter had been.]

[avoirfaim]

[Still a decade or so older than his own Will, but alas, time will take it's tole eventually. It's unsettling to know this Will's story (there aren't many secrets his mundane can keep from him, after all), to know that he gets caught, to know that his well constructed life would come tumbling down due to his own achilles heel.

Or perhaps it won't. Perhaps knowing what might happen means that he can change it, so that it doesn't. Something to think about.

At being identified, Hannibal's smile softens, not in affection so much as a victors playful relaxation.]

As do you. I did mean what I said about your Liver; a surprisingly unpleasant organ when pickled.

[eidetikerwill]

[There is a part of Will Graham that would like to believe that the cycle could be interrupted in Hannibal Lecter, but the piece of him that walked behind the eyes of the Chesapeake Ripper knows better. He had told his Hannibal that he was insane, but Will knew that wasn't true. It had been more right when Will said that Hannibal Lecter was a born monster, one that they fed and kept on life support but would never be one of them.]

[There was no more stopping Hannibal Lecter from being what he was with kindness or medication than there was shouting at a storm to slow its destructive force. It hadn't been a kind realisation for Will.]

The Doctor Lecter in my world once asked me what I would do if I could go back, do things differently.

[The gin brought to his lips, a drink taken in defiance. His eyes were tired and glazy with alcohol but knowing. Fear is at his side, always there, but it made him sharper. A scarred mongoose but one every bit as dangerous as he had always been. Would stand toe to toe with the knowledge of who Hannibal Lecter was no matter the mask he wore instead of the Will this Hannibal knew.]

I told him I'd put two rounds in his head. Meant it too.

[avoirfaim]

[ The laugh that passes from his lips resembles a scoff, as he turns his head away from Will. It's the actions of a man offended, despite the upwards curl of his lips. Offended that Will would mean that, offended that Will would assume that he didn't know that will meant it.

He would do the same, or at least he tells himself. Or at least this Will's past echoes for his future. They are alike, Graham and Lecter, two sides of the same coin, one scuffed and one shining bright.

That smug little smile doesn't leave his lips when he looks back at Will, nor does it reach his eyes. It rarely does. ]

And what would doing that do to you in the process?

[clothedinsun]

[ she laughs, the weak laugh of a strong woman trying]

So you have nightmares too, huh? About Francis or about your own demons?