Chapter Text
"You should see him, Doctor; he is beautiful now...peaceful... Like the Ripper had never butchered him. My mind can rest now that I can offer him and our family a proper goodbye."
This sentence was pronounced by his patient, Mrs. Miller, widow of David Miller, a mere pig elevated by himself, Hannibal Lecter, as a work of art. Mr. Miller was the owner of a high-end restaurant in Baltimore named Amaryllis, where Hannibal had sometimes been invited by Mrs. Komeda, who adored this place. During one of their dinners, they had witnessed a waitress being harassed by a vulgar client. When the poor girl had reported him, the late owner didn't help her at all, saying that the client was a wealthy and influential one and she should just let it go to avoid a scandal that could stain his reputation.
Hannibal had let 6 months passed to distant his venue and took care of the man. In the kitchen's restaurant, he recreated Caravaggio's painting "Narcissus." The man died slowly, looking at his reflection made by his own blood, pooling under him like he was admiring himself in the river. Hannibal was really proud of himself because he took care of distorting the man's expression on his face once he was dead to show how ugly this man was inside and had taken his useless lungs and heart. Mr. Miller had wasted too much air and had lacked heart, metaphorically speaking. He had embellished the gaping hole by disposing of a beautiful flower composition made of Aconite, gentians, hortensias, scabious, and, of course, Narcissa.
Hannibal had the chance to admire his art one last time before the FBI, who had called him to consult on the case, destroyed it, looking for evidence he had made sure to not leave behind him. Jack Crawford, the head of the behavioral analysis unit, summoned him when he suspected it was a Ripper's kill. If he wasn't so conscientious, this Jack, stubborn and logical as he was, could be able to arrest him some day. This unit was also made up of three other technicians he really appreciated: Jimmy Price, Brian Zeller, and his favorite, Beverly Katz. She was the smartest one, and without her, Jack would not be so efficient. He suspected she liked him as well because she always gave his number to the victim's relatives when they needed to be accompanied in their grieving.Unknowingly, she had offered him a new way to enjoy his kills, contemplating the aftermath of his actions.
Mrs. Miller had come to consult thanks to the sweet Beverly's recommendation. A delightful irony he fully appreciated, but to know his own artwork had been destroyed and now looked peaceful AND beautiful enough to have an open casket funeral, Hannibal was really bewildered by the news. Doubting her because of her grieving, he chose to indulge her: "The funeral will be a decisive step regarding your grief. Having a proper goodbye will benefit you and your family." He mechanically answered.
"Yes, thanks to him, I will." She cried and repeated how lost she was without her husband. Hannibal raised an eyebrow. Who was the "him" she mentioned? Right now he couldn't ask for more information regarding her state, so not wanting to dwell on it furthermore, he tried to put his growing curiosity aside for the moment. He focused back on her sorrow instead, patiently waiting for the end of their session.
Once alone in his office at the end of the day, his thoughts returned to Mrs. Miller. It had been a long time since a consultation had intrigued him. He definitely couldn't go see his own victim to verify Mrs. Miller's declaration without looking suspicious. Turning on his phone, he saw a vocal message notification from Mrs. Komeda. It has been 4 days since the murder, and the victim's identity was publicly revealed today, so he supposed she had called him as soon as she heard the news. Absentmindedly, he listened to it:
"Hello, Hannibal. I hope this call will not disturb one of your consultations, but I've just learned that David Miller, the owner of our beloved Amarillys restaurant, had been murdered! And by the Chesapeake Ripper! I am so shocked, Hannibal! I've called his wife to know the details of the funerals, and I wanted to ask you if you'll be willing to accompany me. I do want to pay him a homage, but I don't feel like going there alone. Call me as soon as you can. Bye!"
Hannibal smiled. How beautiful it is when the stars align so perfectly. He called her back immediately to accept her request, happy to help an estimated friend and to indulge his curiosity. He owed it to her to experience every step of his crime. From the stalking to the funeral, passing by the investigation. Truly, it was Christmas in November.
The funeral was two days later. He was not used to wearing a full black suit, so he opted for a pair of ruby cuff links, a discreet allusion to his victim's blood, as a subtle touch of color. He maybe was a murderer, but he was not devoid of a sense of humor. He just regretted having no one to share the laughs.
He arrived at the church 15 minutes before the ceremony would start, spotting Mrs. Komeda, elegant as always in a long black dress accessorized with a little veil falling on her eyes. He joined her, putting the mask of polite contemplation on his face. Together they went to the widow to express their sympathy. Not being relatives, they couldn't sit too close to the casket for Hannibal's frustration. But minutes before the beginning, Mrs. Miller came to see them, a sad but beautiful smile on her lips. She grabbed Hannibal's shoulders and whispered, "I'm very grateful to you two for being here; my dear husband adored you, Mrs. Komeda, and if I had known Doctor Lecter was a friend of yours and a regular client as well, I would have invited you. Do you want to see him before the ceremony start? You'll see how beautiful he is."
The fact that he had not burned as soon as he had entered the church confirmed that God didn't exist, but really? He can't believe his luck and started to think that maybe, he could start to doubt.
Looking at Mrs. Komeda, he asked her: "What do you think?" He could see she was hesitant: "I don't know Hannibal; I'm not sure that I can handle it."
He really appreciated her, but he would not allow her to be on his way. "My dear, It could be a good idea to pay a last intimate goodbye to your dear friend." She seemed unsure, but relying on her friend's words, she accepted.
He refrained himself to look too pleased by her decision. Mrs. Miller was relieved by it as well and led them to the casket. Hannibal didn't remember the last time he had been so expectant of something. The thrill is different from the killing's one; he was not in control of the result, and that made him feel uneasy. When his eyes laid on David Miller's face, he was breathless.
"How?" was the only thing that came to his mind. His victim was here, looking like he was sleeping peacefully. The cheeks were even lightly pink, and his hands delicately crossed on his belly. The tortured expression he had sculpted on the man's face was gone, the hole in his chest invisible.
He may have stared a little too long because he felt the questioning look sent by his friend. "I'm sorry, but I have to say you were right, Mrs. Miller. I could swear he's still alive".
Shedding a tear, she didn't answer but squeezed both of their hands and left to sit between her two daughters. The following ceremony passed in a blur for Hannibal. He kept wondering who had been able to undo his work so beautifully, erasing the Ripper's name to put his own instead. Hannibal had to discover it.
A week later, Mrs. Miller was back in his office, looking better than last week. His waiting would finally come to an end, and he was relieved. The world of thanatopraxy was not easy to wander in, and he hadn't found a lot of information. She was his last resort, and then after the polite greeting and predictable grieving speech, he waited for the right moment to ask: "Mrs. Miller, do you mind if I ask you who the thanatopractor who had worked on your husband was? I have to say he had done an outstanding performance, and to be honest with you, I could share his contact to help some of my patients."
He was pleased to see no judgment in her eyes when he asked; on the contrary, she almost looked happy to help.Unlike her late husband, she was a good person. "Oh, Doctor Lecter, It is such a good idea. He is such a talented man; he could appear a little rude at first sight, but he is a lovely man. I'm indebted to him. He's based in Wolf Trap, and his name is Will Graham."
After rummaging in her bag, she handed him a business card, a simple white one with just the man's name and his phone number written in black. Hannibal tucked the precious item in his inner pocket. "How did you find his contact?"
Because it is nearly impossible to find it by pure hasard.
"Thanks to Mrs. Caldwell. Her husband had also been killed by the Chesapeake Ripper's, and it seems Mr. Graham is well known in this particular circle. The legend said he had reached one of the Ripper's relatives years ago to offer his help for free, and since he had taken care of the poor families like mine to soothe their pain."
This case was becoming more and more interesting. Hannibal was the one who delivered pain and sorrow upon them, and this Will Graham offered to heal them by the same means: using the victim's body as a canvas to show their art. He had always thought his nemesis would be Jack Crawford, and he had never been so delighted to be wrong. "Are you saying he works for free?"
If it was true, Hannibal was offended to see such talent unrecognized. "Not really. He never asked for money, so every family had paid him depending on their heart. I've heard this occurs only for the Chesapeake Ripper's victims. For most basic interventions, he rates like every other thanatopractor." Money is a taboo subject in society, so Hannibal didn't ask how much the Miller family had paid Will Graham, but he hoped they had been generous; this man deserved it.
At home, his mind was totally focused on how he could meet this man, a glass of Chateau Moulin du Cadet in his hand and the business card in the other. The obvious way was to kill someone else; he had a rodolex full of pigs awaiting, but how to proceed then? Request to assist at the embalming process due to medical curiosity? Maybe it was a little too much. Stalk the man until he finds the right moment to enter his life? Too tedious, especially if the man reveals himself completely uninteresting.
Trying to stay logical, he focused on what he already knew and advantages he could take from it. He deduced Will Graham certainly operated directly at the morgue once the forensic exam was complete and released by the police and just before the said body was placed in the casket. When he consulted for the FBI, he often passed by the morgue. Maybe he had already seen him?
His best shot for now was to investigate the name with the lab team of the behavioral unit, who worked closely with the medical examiner.
One week later, Hannibal was in the FBI's lab surrounded by the famous trio, examining Hannibal's most recent victim, Mrs. Anne Barry, an incompetent real estate agent who had tried to sell him a house full of hidden malfunctions. It was years ago, but he thought the occasion was perfect to finally take his revenge. He took care of altering her appearance as much as he could in a way that made it very difficult for anyone to give her face back but not impossible. Lacerating it or removing parts like her lips wouldn't be a fair game.
Once they had finished their meeting, he lingered, feigning to study the body furthermore. The lovely Beverly took her chance to ask, "Hey, Doctor! Have you seen Mrs. Miller? I gave her your contact."
Oh yes, dear Beverly, I owe you a great gift for this. He smiled at her. "Indeed, she had reached me, and I had also been invited to her husband's funeral. You should have seen the body; Mr. Miller had been remarkably restored.” The bait had been launched.
"Oh, Will had done a miracle again?" Zeller asked from the other side of the room. The bait had been successfully bitten.Now Hannibal was sure God was among us. "Hum? Will? Who is it?" He asked with a feigned innocence.
It was Price's turn to enter the discussion: "Will is the best thanatopractor I've known. And the sexiest. He is so good we recommend him to every family who had a loved one too damaged by death. He is even able to restore missing parts! A genius!" Really? Now Hannibal was frustrated to have restrained himself on Barry's face. Never mind; he would verify this allegation with another body. "Don't mind his enthusiasm, Doctor Lecter; he's his number one fan, but he is right; Will is really talented, and I think he will soon perform another miracle," Beverly said while caressing the hair of the woman lying on the table. If only she knew she was not worth it.
Anyway, Hannibal jumped on the occasion. "You made me curious. Thanatopraxy is a noble profession where art and medicine work together. Empathy and love for beauty are valuable qualities in this field." While pulling a white sheet on the body, Beverly gave him some priceless information. "You couldn't be more true, doctor. Will has an empathy disorder, and he uses it to restore the body perfectly and without a picture sometimes." Impressive.
"Do you think I could meet him? or assist at one of his operations? Novelty in knowledge is always welcome, moreover when it is taught by the master of the art." Beverly and Jimmy exchanged a look, unsure of the answer. Jimmy spoke first: "Will is very secretive and prefers to work alone." Hannibal was disappointed, and it must have shown on his face.
Beverly saved the day by saying, ”But we can also invite you while he is here, and you can accidentally meet him during his coffee break."
Maybe Beverly was God.
Hannibal waited for Beverly's call with impatience, and it was unusual for him. Two days later he finally saw her ID appearing on his screen, and by chance he could take the call immediately. She arranged to meet him tomorrow at 5 pm and strongly advised bringing two lattes, one Americano, and the same homemade pastries he had brought once. When he asked if it was not suspicious to bring the exact number of coffee, he could hear her smile through the phone. "Zeller will be absent tomorrow; he will testify at a trial, but Will doesn't know it. The Americano is for Will, by the way; make sure to bring the best one you can find. Price and I will play along. Don't worry; it's just that we prefer latte".
Delighted by her playfulness, he worked hard the next morning to cook the most delightful pastries he had ever made and brewed his best coffee beans to offer the most savory Americano this Will Graham would drink in his life. He arrived at the lab at 4:45 pm, and Beverly greeted him warmly. Hannibal could tell she enjoyed their Machiavellian plan as much as he did. "Hello, Doctor Lecter. Will is here; he usually takes his pause around 5. He said this body was particularly challenging. Let's wait here if you don't mind."
She took her latte and one pastry, moaning in pleasure for Hannibal's pride. "Do I have something else I should know about our dear Will? I don't want to appear rude to him."
She laughed, "You? Rude? Oh Doctor, I can't believe you have so little confidence in yourself." Jimmy has joined them and talked happily about Will, and so far he had learned the man was living with seven dogs, was once a cop for several years in Louisiana, and had never accepted their invitation to drink after work. When the door opened at 5:10 pm, his heart missed a beat. His expectations were high, and he found himself praying.
A chocolate curly-haired man was looking at his phone as he entered, but Hannibal could discern long eyelashes behind his glasses. He was thin and pretty tall with broad shoulders. Will passed one hand in hair when he raised his head, and Hannibal's heart fluttered when their eyes met. These crystal blue eyes sent butterflies in his stomach, and if Hannibal was not in total control of his body, he would have fallen to his knees before this perfect human representation of the Greek god Apollo. They stared at each other until Beverly coughed discreetly to bring them into reality. "Ah, Will! This is Doctor Hannibal Lecter. He often consults with us on the Ripper's case, and he brought us coffee. I hope you don't mind." Hannibal offered him his hand. "Nice to meet you, Mister Graham. Jimmy and Beverly were praising you." When Will slid his hand in, it sent an electric shock through Hannibal's body.
This hand was warm, soft due to the powder inside the gloves, and he felt Will's slender fingers reaching his wrist. "Hello, Doctor," he mumbled while lowering his eyes. Hannibal remembered Mrs. Miller's words: "He could appear a little rude at first sight," so he decided to not take offense. "I'm very interested in your work, Will. I have seen Mr. David Miller at his funeral, and I was blown away by your talent. Mrs. Miller, who consulted me to help her with her grief, is very fond of you."
Will's face shifted into a resentful expression, and his eyes turned cold as ice. "Are you a shrink?" Hannibal glanced at Beverly to understand the sudden mood shift, but she avoided him, and Jimmy looked suddenly captivated by his coffee.
He tried to diffuse the tension: "I guess you are not in love with my profession."
Will scoffed, "People of your kind made me lose my job as a police officer. Unstable, they said. When I explained I wanted to engage in thanatopraxy, they looked at me like I was definitely lost. They judged me instead of helping me. They were just delighted to poke into my broken brain. So no, I am not a fan." Putting on the mask of understanding, he calmly answered, "I do understand, Will. I deplore this kind of low psychiatry that had hurt more than it had healed, but I assure you I am not like this. I'm merely fascinated by your profession and your techniques and would be immensely pleased if you agreed to make me discover it."
Will seemed to relax and looked at Beverly and Price, thinking hard. "Is this encounter a pure hasard, or do you two have something to do with it?" Will would have been a great detective; good for Hannibal he was not in law enforcement anymore.
Beverly looked remorseful, and after an apologetic look, she admitted the truth. "I'm sorry, Will. Doctor Lecter had truly been impressed by your work, and when we told him we knew the artist, he was sincerely curious about you as a thantopractor. We thought it could be great if you could meet each other. I hope you are not too mad at us." She made a cute face, and Will sighed, apparently weakened by it.
He turned his attention back to Hannibal. "Are you really only interested in my work? You are not here to study my mind like other shrinks, you promise?"Hannibal could feel insulted, but he was too pleased by the turn of the event to mind. With his most sincere smile, he answered, "Even if I am sure you are entirely interesting, I promise my curiosity is for your work only." For the moment.He'll not let this amazing creature slip away from him.
Sipping at his coffee, Will let a smile pass on his beautiful lips. "Alright, doctor. Let me drink this amazing coffee, and you can come while I am working on Miss Barry."