No title available
sheepfilms
noise dept.
Keni
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
will byers stan first human second
Monterey Bay Aquarium
NASA
Xuebing Du
oozey mess
No title available
hello vonnie
Product Placement
wallacepolsom
@theartofmadeline
h
styofa doing anything
occasionally subtle
DEAR READER
seen from Palestinian Territories
seen from Malaysia
seen from Japan
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Taiwan
seen from Netherlands
seen from India
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Pakistan
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Japan
seen from Malaysia
seen from Suriname
seen from Bangladesh
seen from United Kingdom
@hayleythecannibal
(It was about damn Time i did this.) This is a Hannibal X Will X reader.
Summary- What if Will had a partner that could do the same thing he did but feel the emotions on a deeper level.
WARNING ⚠️ this contains mature content such as; Violence, Mental Health, Gore, Sex, Alcohol, Cannibalism, Murder, Death, Trauma and Abuse.
Prologue
Act 1-
Chapter One: Aperitif
Chapter Two: Amuse-Bouche
Chapter Three: Potage
Chapter Four: Ouef
Chapter Five: Coquilles
Chapter Six: Entree
Chapter Seven: Sorbet
Chapter Eight: Fromage
Chapter Nine: Trou-Normand
Chapter Ten: Buffet-Froid
Chapter Eleven: Roti
Chapter Twelve: Releves
Chapter Thirteen: Savouruex (Act 1 Finale)
Act 2-
Chapter Fourteen: Kaiseki
Chapter Fifteen: Sakizuke
Chapter Sixteen: Hassun
Chapter Seventeen: Takiwase
Chapter Eighteen: Mukozuke
Chapter Nineteen: Futamono Chapter Twenty: Yakimono
Chapter Twenty-one: Su-zakana
Chapter Twenty-Two: Shiizakana
Chapter Twenty-Three: Naka-Choko
Chapter Twenty-Four: Ko No Mono
Chapter Twenty-Five: Tome-Wan
Chapter Twenty-Six: Mizumono
ACT 3-
Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Letter
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Primavera
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Secondo
Chapter Thirty- Contorno
Chapter Thirty-One- Dolce
Chapter Thirty-Two: Digestivo
Chapter Thirty-Three: The Great Red Dragon
Chapter Thirty-Four: And the Woman clothed with the Sun
Chapter Thirty-Five: And the Woman clothed in the Sun
Chapter Thirty-Six: And the Beast from the Sea
Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Number of the Beast is 666
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Wrath of the Lamb
Epilogue
Hey guys! just wanna come on here to celebrate the 4 years of Twisted Minds! I honestly loved writing it so much.
I really want to do more maybe with another fandom bc I don’t know what much else to do with NBC Hannibal other than one-shots or mini-series by request.
I decided that Sinister minds was a no go only because I love how I left Twisted minds and it took up so much of my time.
But I want to get back into writing so I’m Taking Requests!
To all my followers and fellow Fannibals and all 156k cross platform readers, Thank you for enjoying my content and being such a supportive community. 💜💋
TWISTED MINDS
reblog if you’re a sick fuck
Something about the shape of Bucky’s face and nose makes him the perfect candidate to right the face of. And he’s so ok being breathless, holds you down for like 3 straight orgasms
-🌻
rubbing your clit on the bridge of his nose while he tongue fucks you 🤭
Are you aware that almost all of your links for your Hannibal X Will X Reader series on your master list aren’t working? Act one chapter 1 link works but the rest of Act one doesn’t until you get to act 2 for some reason.
OMG I will fix that ASAP!!!!1
So, let me guess– you just started a new book, right? And you’re stumped. You have no idea how much an AK47 goes for nowadays. I get ya, cousin. Tough world we live in. A writer’s gotta know, but them NSA hounds are after ya 24/7. I know, cousin, I know. If there was only a way to find out all of this rather edgy information without getting yourself in trouble…
You’re in luck, cousin. I have just the thing for ya.
It’s called Havocscope. It’s got information and prices for all sorts of edgy information. Ever wondered how much cocaine costs by the gram, or how much a kidney sells for, or (worst of all) how much it costs to hire an assassin?
I got your back, cousin. Just head over to Havocscope.
((PS: In case you’re wondering, Havocscope is a database full of information regarding the criminal underworld. The information you will find there has been taken from newspapers and police reports. It’s perfectly legal, no need to worry about the NSA hounds, cousin ;p))
Want more writerly content? Follow maxkirin.tumblr.com!
Assassins
“Below are selected prices that are paid to professional assassins by criminal organizations and drug cartels for a contract hit.
In Australia, the median price to hire a hit man is $13,610 (9,800 Euros), with the price going up to $83,000 (60,000 Euros) based on the task.
In Mexico, the cost for a low level assassin is $208 (150 Euros), and up to $20,832 (15,000 Euros) for a higher profile target like a police chief.
The prices paid in Argentina are between $3,749 (2,700 Euros) to $5,555 (4,000 Euros) per hit.
Government statistics in Spain state that 40 assassinations take place each year, with prices for the hit ranging between $27 (20 Euros) to $69,000 (50,000 Euros).”
So cheap! I always thought things like this would cost more than $1 million…
This is super useful to know!
and not just for writing!!
@katherine-rose
HOLY FUCK
HOW MANY HOURS HAVE I WASTED TRYING TO FIND HEROIN PRICES ON THE INTERNET WHAT A GREAT DATABASE
I needed this
Actually useful. Sometimes incognito isn’t enough.
and suddenly my life just became much easier
I’ve heard of this before but the GIFs made it better
I have a lot of research on Cannibalism….
TWISTED MINDS: Epilogue
Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.
Taglist: @punkin-time @miaowkitty @gabriella-aesthetic @urlocalfanficwriter @dilfdemolisher
Twisted Minds Masterlist
There it is…There is my becoming…My rebirth…My satisfaction within my Life. And you my Little Love shall not strive to live my life. Live life the way you want to. Love greatly. Do what makes you happy and what satisfies you. You are Intelligent and Kind. But you are your parents child and for that I am sorry. I’m sorry you now have to Bare the Twisted Minds of those who came Before you.
You have Potential to do what me and your father couldn’t. Don’t become the monsters you hunt. Me and your Father failed that aspect of our job. We fell in love with it. But you. You have the best of all three of us. And the worst. Harness the worst so you can do the best.
I Cant tell you, How proud I am of you. I am proud to be your Mom. No matter where i am. You will always have me. All I can say is Good luck, the path I paved for you will not be easy but I know you my girl will conquer all the challenges in your way.
– Dr. Y/N Graham-L/N, PhD
AKA Your Mama
GRAHAM-L/N FAMILY HOME - BEDROOM - EVENING -
16 year old Brianna glances up from the Journal. She lets out a deep breath. She glances from the Journal to Her first PhD.
FORENSIC PSYCHOLOGY. DR. BRIANNA MISCHA GRAHAM.
She removes her Graduation cap. Theres a knock at her Door. “Come in!” Bri wipes her tears. Y/N Comes in with what seemed to be a gift. “Here honey…” Y/N leaves the gift on her bed, kisses the top of her head and then leaves.
Brianna takes the gift into her hands, its a small rectangular box elegantly wrapped. The tag reads : To Dr. Brianna Graham. You know who you are. Embrace it. - Papa
She unwraps the Gift, inside wrapped in a Handkerchief with the embroidered letters H.L., Is a Dagger.
TWISTED MINDS: Act III- Chapter Thirty-Nine Wrath of the Lamb
TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Implied Death, Death, Cannibalism, Mentions of Cannibalism, Guns, Mental Heath, Mentions of Death of Children, Illusions to Sexual Aggravation, Mentions of Attempted Murder
Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.
Taglist: @punkin-time @miaowkitty @gabriella-aesthetic @urlocalfanficwriter @dilfdemolisher
Twisted Minds Masterlist
HOSPITAL - REBA MCCLANE'S ROOM - DAY-
Reba lies in her hospital bed. Exhausted. Recovering from smoke inhalation and burns. Y/N sits beside her bed, a female POLICE OFFICER in the room with them.
“A man had tried to slap me once. I was quiet and he couldn't find me – he couldn't see either. This one could see. He was crazy. Crazy, all right. That's it: crazy.” Reba's hand brings more ice to her lips. “Crazy is a fearsome word.”
“He shot himself in the face. I put my hand in it. He set fire to the house. He shot himself. I put my hand in it. He was on the floor…” She trails off, trying to contain her emotions. “I won't put you through this again, but I'd like to come back by. Just to say hi and see how you're doing.”
“How could you help it? A charmer like me.” Bitterness and self-reproach evident in her voice. Y/N won't let her go there.
“Would you excuse us for a minute, Officer?” The officer leaves the room, then Y/N takes Reba's hand. “In the end, he couldn't kill you and he couldn't watch you die. The people who study this kind of thing say he was trying to stop.”
“Why?”
“Because you helped him. That probably saved some lives.”
“I drew a freak.”
“You didn't draw a freak. You drew a man with a freak on his back. Nothing wrong with you, don't let yourself believe there is.” Y/N says softly, knowing how she feels. “I know there's nothing wrong with me. In making friends, I try to be wary of people who foster dependency and feed on it. I've been with a few. The blind attract them.”
“Not just the blind. I'm coming back to see you in a day or so. I have to look at cops all the time, and I need relief; try to do something about your hair there.” She grins a little. Y/N quietly leaves.
NORMAN CHAPEL - DAY-
Will GOES inside the chapel. Standing at the altar, with his back toward Will, is Hannibal Lecter lighting candles. Lighting one candle after another.
Will turns to the rows of votive candles behind him andlights a stick to ignite a candle's wick.
A VOTIVE CANDLE It's lit. “Ding-dong, the Dragon's dead.” Hannibal's smile fades, genuinely disappointed by that news, but finding some possible shred of hope:
“Are congratulations in order?”
BSHCI - HANNIBAL LECTER'S CELL - DAY-
Will approaches Hannibal behind his glass wall. “I didn't kill him. Suicide.”
“Then he wasn't as strong as the Dragon after all.”
“He was trying to stop.”
“I was rooting for you, Will. It's a shame. You came all this way and you didn't get to kill anybody.
Only consolation is Dr. Chilton. Congratulations for the job you did on him. I admired it enormously. What a cunning boy you are.” Hannibal smirks. “Are you accusing me of something?”
“Does the enemy inside you agree with the accusation? Even a little bit?”
“I came back to stop the Dragon. He's stopped.”
“Your family was on his itinerary. Safe now. You and Y/N can go home again. If there's any point. Is there any point?” Hannibal comments, “I like my life there.”
“It won't be the same. You'll see it's not the same. The unspoken knowledge will live with you, like unwanted company in the house.”
“Y/N and I want it to be the same.”
“Mutual assurances you try to exchange in the dark and in the day will pass through some refraction, making them miss their mark. When life becomes maddeningly polite... ...think about me. Think about me, Will, don't worry about me.”
“You turned yourself in so I would always know where you are. You'd only do that if I rejected you. Good-bye, Hannibal.” Will turns and walks away, the doors BUZZING open. “Will...Was it good to see me?”
“Good? No.” And with that Will exits, the double doors closing behind him.
HOTEL - NIGHT-
Establishing. The hotel, lonely in the night, lights burning orange. Like an Edward Hopper painting.
HOTEL - THE GRAHAM'S ROOM - NIGHT-
Will enters the dark hotel room, weary. As he turns to close and lock the door, a SHADOW moves in the darkness behind him. He senses the movement just an instant too late. FOOTSTEPS rush up behind him. As he turns – FRANCIS DOLARHYDE
Seizes Will from behind and clamps a chloroformed washcloth over his mouth. Will kicks the door, propelling them both backward. Dolarhyde staggers, but maintains his vise-like grip.
Will thrashes violently in Dolarhyde's powerful arms. Kicking over a bedside table. Kicking against any surface. His struggles growing wilder, less coordinated. Will's legs flying up into the air, perpendicular, but Dolarhyde is so strong that he remains upright, absorbing Will's energy.
They smash into a mirror on the wall, crazing the glass, and, for a moment, both men are reflected side by side in the broken shards -- shattered and incomplete.
Will's eyes are wide -- panicked and furious. Gradually growing unfocused. Until they glaze as the chloroform does its work. WILL'S LEGS Kick feebly, then go limp.
Will's eyes close, Dolarhyde's face right behind his. As Will slides into unconsciousness, Dolarhyde relaxes his grip. Dolarhyde holds Will's limp body. Breathing heavily from the struggle. There is something subtly postcoital about it. this terrible lovers' embrace…
WATER It cascades through space in until...SPLASH -- it washes over Will's face. He groggily and jerkily blinks into consciousness. A dry towel is tossed INTO FRAME. “Are you all right?”
“Uhhhh…” We are --
HOTEL - THE GRAHAM’S ROOM - NIGHT-
Will's slumped in his hotel chair, eyes peeling open. Blurry shapes shuddering into focus...Dolarhyde stands over him, his silenced pistol in his hand. “Breathe deeply. Do you think you can sit up? Try to sit up.” Will scoots up in the chair, propping himself up on elbows. “You didn't break my back.”
“Not today.” Dolarhyde stares at Will a moment, studying him, then: “Your face is closed to me.”
“If I can see you, you can see me.” Dolarhyde is amused by Will in a curious way. “You think you understand, don't you?”
“"I understand that blood and breath are only elements undergoing change to fuel your Radiance." Hannibal said those words. To me.” Will pants softly, “I tried to share with Lecter, and Lecter betrayed me.”
“He betrayed me, too.”
“I would like to share.”
“You shared with Reba.”
“I shared with Reba a little, in a way she could survive. She had one flash of my glory.”
“You didn't change her.”
“I choose not to change her. I thought, "Dare I? Of course I do." I'm stronger than the Dragon now.”
“Dr. Chilton was just an annoyance to you and so am I, but Hannibal Lecter is who you need to change.” Will convinces him. “I want to meet Lecter. I want to tell him important things. How could I manage that?” Dolarhyde and Will's cabal…
BAU - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - DAY-
ZELLER and Price have the last remains of Francis Dolarhyde, and evidence from the house, laid out on tables. burned partial dental plate -- several distinct snaggled teeth still in place -- as Brian Zeller retrieves it from the skull.
“The only teeth we found in the skull were Grandma's dentures.” Jimmy nonchalantly holds the buckled and twisted shotgun by its charred grip. “The upper part was made of vulcanite instead of acrylic like they use now. Nobody's made vulcanite plates in fifty years.”
“Dolarhyde had a new acrylic pair just like them made to fit him. Chinese manufacture. The new ones were on his body. Grandma's yucky old ones were in his mouth.”
“Not his mouth, per se. We think it's a guy named Arnold Lang – he's missing. Worked at a service station near Dolarhyde. Found his car, but it had been wiped down.”
“Dolarhyde snuffs Lang and takes his body to the house, gives the blind lady this and that, you know, "Will I kill you?"/"Will I not kill you?"” Cutting Zeller off to land the plane: “"I can't stand to see you burn," he says, boohoo, and blows Lang's head off with a twelve-gauge.”
“The routine about the key hanging around his neck was to make sure she felt the body. So she could tell us she certainly felt a body.” Y/N turns her head, and only now do we see Will Graham stands alongside her, seemingly taking this in. “The Great Red Dragon lives”
BAU - CORRIDOR OUTSIDE EVIDENCE PROCESSING - DAY-
Y/N and Will confer quietly in the hall as Zeller and Price work over the charred corpse in the background. “The obvious thing is to try to get him to come to us. Bait him with something he wants more than me.”
“He'd be an idiot to go for it.” I groan softly. “I know. Want to hear what the best bait would be?”
I sigh “I'm not sure I do.”
“Hannibal would be the best bait.”
“Why in God's name would anybody want to meet Hannibal Lecter?” I rub my temple. “To kill him Honey The Dragon could absorb him that way, engulf him, become more than he is.”
“You sound pretty sure.” I run a hand through my hair. “I'm not sure. Who's sure? I'm not even sure Hannibal would draw the Dragon. I say it's the best shot.”
“Set up how?” I ask, knowing it'll be a pain in the ass to set up. “It would be hell to do, I know that. We'd take Hannibal into federal custody.” Will leans on the wall, taking my face in his hand.
“Because Alana would never sit still for what you're about to suggest?” I grab his arm softly. “We fake an escape.”
BEDELIA'S HOME OFFICE - DAY-
After a moment, she crosses to the bar cart by the window and chooses a drink, her mind spinning as she pours:
“We assign a moment to decision, to dignify the process as a timely result of rational and conscious thought. Yet what you propose is so thoughtless, I find it difficult to imagine that moment exists.” She crosses back to her chair, not offering Will a drink.
“Decisions are made of kneaded feelings. They're more often a lump than a sum.” Bedelia sits down, glass in hand. “However you think you're going to manipulate this situation to your advantage, think again.”
“There is no advantage. It's all degrees of disadvantage.” Bedelia fixes Will with a piercing stare. "Who holds the Devil, let him hold him well. He will hardly be caught a second time."
“I don't intend Hannibal to be caught a second time.” Bedelia studies Will. Sensing where he might be going. Hoping she is wrong. A flicker of alarm plays in her eyes. “Can't live with him. Can't live without him. Is that what this is?”
“I guess this is my Becoming.”
“What you're "becoming" is pathological.”
“Extreme acts of cruelty require a high degree of empathy.”
“You found religion. Nothing more dangerous than that.”
“I'd pack my bags if I were you, Bedelia. Meat's back on the menu.” Bedelia is enraged in a way we’ve never seen. “You righteous, reckless, twitchy little man. Might as well cut all our throats and be done with it.”
“Ready or not. Here he comes.”
BAU - DR. Y/N L/N'S OFFICE - NIGHT-
After hours, dimly lit, Y/N, Alana Bloom, Jack Crawford and Will Graham have gathered to plot against Hannibal. “Hannibal has tentatively agreed to the deal, as proposed.” Alana says antsy, I sigh. “What will make him less tentative?”
“He wants Will to ask him. He wants you to say "please."” She turns to him. “I'll say "pretty please."” Will says sassily, I smirk.
“We will have a stampede when people think Lecter is out.” Jack shakes his head.
“Let them stampede. Authenticity. And let them think I helped Hannibal escape. Let them think we Took Y/N as a Hostage.” Will says, his hand stroking my spine. My breathing hitches.
“Authenticity?”
“Someone has to be close. When the Dragon comes.” I say knowingly. “And then?” Alana questions, Will tilts his head. “How do you behave when you know the conventional honors have no value?”
“Is it possible to behave well then?”
“Desirable to behave well?” Will asks. “There is a wisdom longer than considerations of honor. We kill Dolarhyde. Then we kill Hannibal.” Jack says in a bloodthirsty tone.
“He has to die. He has to.” Alana shakes her head firmly. “To the Devil his due.” I say with dark eyes.
NORMAN CHAPEL - DAY-
Cruises between rows of chairs filled with nondescript MOURNERS to find Will and Hannibal sitting across from each other, whispering to each other over the aisle: “I thought you said your good-byes.”
“We've one last good-bye between us.” Will says softly, his head turning to Hannibal. “You didn't just say good-bye, though, did you? That little extra bit at the end. What was that you said?”
“You wouldn't have turned yourself in unless I rejected you.”
“Yes. That extra bit.”
BSHCI - HANNIBAL LECTER'S CELL - DAY-
“I believe that's what they call a "mic drop." You dropped the mic, Will, but here you are having to come back and pick it up again.” Will is inside the glass as Hannibal is being strapped to his vertical wheelchair by a PAIR OF NURSES. Will stares, then manages a small smile at getting called out as only a good friend can do.
“I knew you would keep running if I kept chasing you. I knew you wanted me to know exactly where I could find you. When I needed you.”
“And you did.”
Will sighs. “I need you, Hannibal.”
“Ding-dong. The Dragon's not dead.”
“He told you he wanted to meet you. Maybe that's a serious invitation.” Will quirks an Eyebrow. “Somehow, I don't think he was just being polite.”
“After the big escape, you send the Dragon a message in the personal ads, you ask him for a rendezvous.”
“He won't go near a mail drop.” Hannibal says knowingly, “But he might be curious enough to look at one to see if you sold him.”
“If he could do it from a distance.”
“We picked a drop that can be watched from only a few places a long way off, and we'll stake out the observation points.” Hannibal studies Will, then: “It sounds weak to you, even as you say it.”
Will doesn't blink. “Secret Service has a setup they've never used. They'll let us have it. We need you, Hannibal. Please.” Hannibal's smile at the magic word, the mask comes down…
PRISON TRANSPORT VAN - DAY-
A single cage inside, Hannibal securely shackled within. A bench seat outside the cage runs along the van's side, ending at a bulkhead separating them from the front cabin. A VAN DRIVER and VAN GUARD can be seen through a meshed window.
Will, Y/N, and an FBI AGENT sit on the bench, Hannibal in profile to them. The FBI agent holds a pump-action shotgun.
COUNTRY ROAD - DAY-
A third cruiser is accelerating up on the convoy. As it gets close, its lights begin to flash and it pulls out to overtake the convoy.
PRISON TRANSPORT VAN - DAY-
Will, Y/N and the FBI agent exchange a glance as the blue lights of the cruiser register in the back compartment. Hannibal turns to hold Will's gaze.
COUNTRY ROAD - DAY-
The cruiser pulls level with the lead cruiser. As the driver looks across, we see that Francis Dolarhyde is behind the wheel! Dolarhyde raises his gun through the open passenger window and fires.
PRISON TRANSPORT VAN - DAY-
Will, Y/N and the FBI agent are thrown violently sideways as the van swerves, and then more shockingly, they are hurled forward against the bulkhead as the van dips alarmingly down into a ditch and SMASHES TO A HALT.
Hannibal slams against the sides of his cage, but the enclosure saves him from the beating Will and the FBI agent take. The compartment is left angled upward, Will and the FBI agent sprawled at the bottom, toward the window, dazed and bruised. POP-POP, blood sprays against the windshield and through the meshed window as both men in the transport van cabin take bullets to their skulls.
Will and the FBI agent struggle to right themselves, the agent reaching for his shotgun – As the rear doors are thrown open. Silhouetted in the doorway, Dolarhyde shoots the FBI agent in the head as he raises his shotgun.
Dolarhyde removes the keys from the FBI agent, unlocks Hannibal Lecter's cage and tosses the keys onto his lap. Dolarhyde gives Will and Y/N one last glance and climbs out. Hannibal quickly unlocks his bindings and follows.
COUNTRY ROAD - DAY-
Hannibal pulls himself and Y/N from the van and surveys the scene. Dolarhyde is already in his stolen police car, ahead of the wreckage and driving away. There's a police car skid to a stop behind the transport van, inside are TWO DEAD POLICE OFFICERS shot execution-style.
Will Graham climbs out of the back, surveys the damage. He crosses to the police car. He opens the door and pulls the dead driver from the vehicle. “What are you doing?”
“You know, Will, you worry too much. You'd be so much more comfortable if you relaxed with yourself.” Hannibal leads me with him.
The lead cruiser -- sideways in the road. Blood splashed on it. TWO MORE BLOODY DEAD MEN in their seats. He hears a car engine start up and turns to see the rear cruiser starting toward him from down the road.
He sees – HANNIBAL Behind the wheel. Y/N in the Passenger seat. The side window is smashed, blood splashed across the inside of the windshield. Hannibal pulls up alongside Will, I open the Backseat door and shove a dead police officer out of the vehicle. He leans across the seat:
“Are you coming? He's not going to kill us here. What he wants to do requires something a little more private.” His hand Rests on my Thigh showing that I can indeed be shared. It wasn't an option.
Will takes the gun off the dead cop, then holds Hannibal's gaze -- should he kill Hannibal right now himself? Will glances at the chaos and carnage around them and then tucks the gun into the back of his pants and climbs into the car with Y/N. Hannibal puts the car in drive and pulls away. cranes back high and wide as the car pulls away from the wreckage and heads for the horizon..
BLUFF-TOP HOUSE - SUNSET-
Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter, still in his institutional overalls, approach the house. Will is drawn to the view. Y/N Leans against the car. “The bluff is eroding. There was more land when I was here with Abigail. More land still when I was here with Miriam Lass.”
“Now you're here with us.”
“And the bluff is still eroding. We are suspended over the roiling Atlantic. Soon all of this will be lost to the sea.” Will lingers as Hannibal locates the spare key under a stone, opens the front door and disappears into the house.
BLUFF-TOP HOUSE - NIGHT-
Hannibal moves through the house, now dressed in his own clothes, carrying a bottle of wine and a wine opener. He notices Will at a window, staring out into the night.
“You're playing games with yourself in the dark of the moon.” Hannibal wipes down three wine glasses on a side table.
“Wasn't surprising that I heard from the Great Red Dragon. Was it surprising when you heard from him?” Will hesitates. Hannibal does not miss a thing. “Yes and no.”
“You intend to watch him kill me?”
“I intend to watch him change you.” Hannibal takes that in, a sad smile as he fingers the corkscrew, contemplating killing Will with it. Taking Y/N and leaving the country like he should have almost four years ago. Instead, he uses the tip to cut the seal on the wine bottle. “My compassion for you both is inconvenient.”
“If you're partial to beef products, it's inconvenient to be compassionate toward a cow.” I snort as I sip my wine. “Save yourself, kill them all?”
“I don't know if I can save myself. And maybe that's just fine.”
"No greater love hath man than to lay down his life for a friend or Lover." Hannibal Kisses my Temple. His hand slipping around my Waist.
“He's watching us now.” P-KEE A low sound and a dull impact on glass. A bullet hole appears in the large window, creating a spiderweb of cracks. THE WINE BOTTLE Shatters in Hannibal's hand.
He glances down and sees a wine stain on his sweater. A beat, and then the window shatters around the bullet hole, all at once, Hannibal's wine bottle drops from his hand. We see now that the large red wine stain on his sweater blossoms with blood. He has been shot.
Glass shards fall through the air; beyond them, the patio is black night. And then, striding out of the blackness, as if a shadow made human, comes Francis Dolarhyde. HANNIBAL Slides to his knees. Blood pumping from the gunshot wound in his abdomen.
Will watches as Dolarhyde enters, his gun in one hand, a black duffel in the other. A knife in his belt. Dolarhyde looks at Will and Y/N. “Don't run. I'll catch you. Both of you.” Hannibal glances up from his belly wound: “Hello, Francis.”
“Hello, Dr. Lecter.” Dolarhyde pulls a tripod from his bag and tosses it to Will, then points the gun at Will's head. Will begins to set it up. Y/N is still leaning against the wall, glass of wine in hand. Taking Hannibal’s role as observer, waiting to see what would happen.
“I'm so happy you chose life, Francis. Suicide is the enemy.” Dolarhyde squats to look at Hannibal on his level. “I had one rag of pride that Reba McClane gave me. It told me that suicide was a sorry end.”
“You were seized by a fantasy life with the brilliance and freshness and immediacy of childhood. It took you a step beyond alone.” Dolarhyde pulls a 16-mm camera from his bag, hands it to Will who fixes it atop the tripod, at gunpoint.
“I'm going to film your death, Dr. Lecter, as dying, you meld with the strength of the Dragon.”
“It's a glorious and rather discomfiting idea.” As Will backs away from the camera and tripod, he surreptitiously reaches for the gun tucked into the small of his back…
“Watching the film will be wonderful, but not as wonderful as the act itself.”
...and Dolarhyde suddenly slams a knife into Will's face. the blade pierces Will's cheek. Blood fills Will's mouth and pours down his face. He grasps at Dolarhyde's arms, trying to fight him off.
Dolarhyde lifts Will off the ground, driving the knife deeper. Will chokes on his own blood.
Dolarhyde picks Will up and bodily hurls him back through the broken window, onto the... PATIO
Will lands and rag-dolls across the stones. Will's blood as it spatters in thick drops to the stone. He gets to his hands and knees. Dolarhyde is coming, bearing down on Will.
“It'll be easy to break your back. Better than killing you. Break your back and twist it, just to be sure. They'll have to roll you to your next investigation.” Will pulls his gun out and Dolarhyde immediately disarms him, tossing the gun over the bluff.
Y/N doesn't bother with her gun. No. She wants to feel his blood run in her hands. The man that tried to slaughter her daughter. The beast who so foolishly thought he could kill her.
Will pulls the knife free of his face and stabs it in Dolarhyde's leg. Dolarhyde pulls the knife out of his leg and slams it into Will's collarbone, using it as a handlebar to pull Will's shoulders until his back snaps. Just as Dolarhyde is about to complete the "yank and snap," Hannibal, sans jacket, jumps on Dolarhyde's back, causing him to drop Will.
HANNIBAL as he tries to snap Dolarhyde's neck with his trademark swift twist, but the man's neck is too strong and Dolarhyde twists and swats at Hannibal, bucking to throw him off. They stagger across the patio. Dolarhyde reaching behind him for purchase on Hannibal. Dolarhyde tosses Hannibal off his back, like swatting a fly, and Hannibal clatters to the stones, rolling into the woodpile -- where he spies a rusted hatchet.
Y/N pulls the knife from her shoulder in a welter of blood. And runs and stabs Dolarhyde in the back with the knife. Dolarhyde roars in pain and rage, turns on Will once more. Hannibal drags himself to the hatchet. Comes behind Francis and slams it into his Achilles tendon and then his knee.
Flesh and sinew rupture. A brutal and underhand move. Dolarhyde is a bull, still charging despite his wounds. And he ignores Will's stabs as he beats on him. Dolarhyde goes down on one leg, a falling giant. Will and Hannibal watch him. This huge driven man, their enemy and also their equal. Y/N Stalks towards him like a Bloodthirsty Wolf.
Dolarhyde bleeding from his many wounds -- his leg destroyed -- Actively trying to Avoid Y/N – holds their gaze. And then he struggles back to his feet. He staggers as Hannibal jumps on his back, his leg buckling, and, in that instant, he's already too late to halt Will's move.
There is a sudden sickening sound and Dolarhyde looks down to see Will Graham has stuck the knife into his abdomen. And then Will jerks the blade downward and blood fountains onto him from Dolarhyde who bucks and arches, like a buffalo fighting off lions. He kicks Will away across the stones.
Dolarhyde reaches down and pulls the knife free of his own gut with a SCHLICK of innards. And Hannibal -- Leans in and BITES OUT DOLARHYDE'S THROAT. Y/N Twirls her knife in her hand as she watches the men she loves.
Dolarhyde arches back as blood fountains from his throat and belly. Will looks on as Hannibal falls from Dolarhyde's back and drops to the ground.
Y/N Smiles Darkly and repeatedly stabs Dolarhyde over and over. Dolarhyde staggers, blood fountaining from his throat and Abdomen. He stares up at the moon and drops to his knees, and then down onto his back.
Dolarhyde's profile as he breathes and blood bubbles from his throat. His head turns and he stares at Y/N as life slowly fades from his eyes. Dolarhyde, pulling away till he is centered, the pooling, spreading blood on either side of him becoming red dragon's wings.
The terribly-injured Will and Hannibal drag themselves to their feet, looking at one another over the dead Dolarhyde. Y/N drips in blood, the knife in her hand drops. SENSUAL SHOTS of the blood of the Throuple as it drops from their wounds, the blood black in the moonlight.
“It really does look black in the moonlight.” Hannibal staggers toward the edge of the bluffs and regards the ocean a moment before turning back to face Will. “See. This is all I ever wanted for you, Will. For all Three of us.” Hannibal pants, Holding Y/N against him.
“It's beautiful.” A moment as Will considers the brutal pack hunting he shared with Hannibal Lecter And His Wife. He genuinely feels it is beautiful.
A single tear cuts through the blood. And Will lunges at Hannibal and Y/N and PULLS THEM OFF THE BLUFF WITH HIM. A sudden shocking EMPTINESS OF FRAME -- they were there, and now they are gone. over the edge – WILL, HANNIBAL, and Y/N Falling away to the sea.
TWISTED MINDS: Act III- Chapter Thirty-Eight The Mark of the Beast is 666
TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Implied Death, Death, Mentions of Cannibalism, Guns, Mental Heath, Mentions of Death of Children, Illusions to Sexual Aggravation, Mentions of Attempted Murder
Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.
Taglist: @punkin-time @miaowkitty @gabriella-aesthetic @urlocalfanficwriter @dilfdemolisher
Twisted Minds Masterlist
BEDELIA'S HOME OFFICE - DAY-
Will sits opposite BEDELIA, mid-therapy. “I look at my wife and I see her dead. I see Mrs. Leeds and Mrs. Jacobi lying where Y/N should be.”
“Do you see yourself killing her?” Bedelia questions, “Yes. Over and over.”
“It's hard to predict when brittle materials will break. Hannibal gave you three years to build a family and a life, confident he'd find a way to take them from you. Either for himself or for death.”
“And he has.” Will almost sneers at the thought. “Aggression can be an effective means of maintaining order in a relationship.”
“What's he going to take from you?” Will asks almost elated. “Is it important to you that he take something from me?” Bedelia asks without emotion.
“Hannibal has agency in the world.”
“Hannibal has no intention of seeing me dead by any other hand than his own, and only then if he can eat me. He's in no position to eat me now.” Bedelia smiles a bitchy smile. “If you play, you pay.”
“You've paid dearly. That knowledge will lie against your skin forever. It excites him to see you marked in this particular way.”
“Why?”
“Why do you think?” Will studies her, amused/annoyed by the psychiatric game. “Bluebeard's wife. Secrets you're not to know, yet sworn to keep.”
“If I'm to be Bluebeard's wife, I would've preferred to be the last.” A moment as Will considers that, then: “Is Hannibal in love with me and Y/N?”
“Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you and find nourishment in the very sight of you? Yes.
But do you and your Wife ache for him?” Will doesn't answer, only stares. Finally: “Once you catch the Red Dragon, your Daughter can go home again. Can you and Y/N?”
BAU - DR. Y/N L/N'S OFFICE - DAY-
Will Graham paces before the desk. ALANA BLOOM sits in a chair, watching him. “Eight people dead in a month. We can't play a long game. I say we go for it. You know and I know it's the best way to bait him.”
“Got me on the hook, now Jacks dangling me to catch a bigger fish.”
“Against my directive, and You suggested it.” I give him a look, “You're thrilled you didn't have to.”
“You fooled yourselves once into believing you were in control of what was happening. Are you still under that delusion?” Will glances at Alana and Y/N , for a brief moment, her eyes and mouth are covered by JAGGED SHARDS OF MIRROR. He looks away. “The Dragon does have a certain abstract curiosity about me. All psychopaths are narcissists. They love to read about themselves.”
“Even Hannibal read TattleCrime.”
“We should Use Freddie Lounds.”
“She would need to interview you, Will. Take your picture.” I say, making sure he knows what we're doing. “I'm in it now. We Can't go home as long as he's loose. I really badmouth the Red Dragon in TattleCrime and then give him a shot at me.”
“It would have to be a pretty good shot. What about the setup?” I ask as I cross my arms.
“Something open. Someplace where he can get close. I don't think he'd snipe. He might fool me, but I can't see him with a rifle.” Y/N listens like an owl. Saying nothing. Will looks at him. “Feels like a trap to me. And it'll feel like a trap to him. Unless you have a professional voice to legitimize what you're saying.”
“Someone to hide the wire of the snare. Are you volunteering?” Now both of them are looking at Alana. She shakes her head. “No. I'd have to be a fool.”
BSHCI - HANNIBAL LECTER'S CELL - DAY-
Hannibal sits at his table, entertained by Frederick Chilton pacing before the glass. Chilton's anger is palpable. “Thank you, Frederick.”
“I just finished reading your most recent piece. Extraordinary stuff.”
“It's a particularly good one.”
“It, uh... it may be my favorite. I've seen a lot of hostility. But this was quantifiably bitchy. Do you think I'm your nemesis?”
“No. Nemesis? No.”
“You refuted my entire book.”
“It didn't hold up to scrutiny.” Chilton inclines his chin, goes on the offensive. “Of course it didn't, I was lying. On your behalf. To save your life. you refuted your insanity defense. I went out on a limb for you and you went up there and sawed it off.”
“"Wood burns because it has the proper stuff in it; and a man becomes famous because he has the proper stuff in him." You don't have the proper stuff, Frederick.”
“I'm a best-selling author. The journals only still publish you for the freak value of your byline.” A mercenary smile as Chilton relishes his next words. “Attention given to you is dwindling since you've been overshadowed by another creature. That book is writing itself. I think I'll call it The Dragon Slayer. All I need is the ending.” Hannibal smiles -- not the reaction Chilton hoped to evoke.
“Fate has a habit of not letting us choose our own endings, Frederick.”
“This is the ending fate has chosen for you. Your teeth will go and your strength. Nobody will be afraid of you anymore. After Dr. Bloom's reign, you'll be out in the ward. The young ones will push you around and use you for sex. All you'll get to read is what you write on the wall. You've seen the old ones. They cry when they don't like the stewed apricots.” Dr. Chilton stares for just a moment longer, then fishes a copy of Hannibal the Cannibal from his briefcase on the floor.
“I'm just going to leave an extra copy of my book right over here. I've personalized the inside cover.” Chilton places the book on the table by the doors as they BUZZ open. He takes one last glance over his shoulder to see Hannibal is still watching him even as the doors close.
BSHCI - CELL BLOCK - DAY-
Chilton straightens his jacket, glancing up to see Alana Bloom leaning against the far wall. “Are you here to remonstrate me with "I told you so"s?”
“That's not why I'm here.”
“She's here because we need someone who is less concerned about the whole truth than the best story.” I say With a calculated smile.
HOTEL - THE GRAHAM'S ROOM - DAY-
Y/N is referring to FREDDIE LOUNDS who is setting up a recording device in the room, equidistant between Dr. Chilton, Will Graham and herself.
Behind Will and Chilton is a window and, outside it, OUT OF FOCUS but visible, is a large city fountain on the street below; beyond it, the familiar dome of the Capitol building.
“You lay out your theories and then Will aggravates them on the record.” Y/N Explains, a guarded smirk on her face. “You're making statements no investigator would ever make and no straight newspaper would credit.”
“You're not a straight newspaper. You sell T-shirts that say, "The Tooth Fairy Is a One-Night Stand."”
“I can get you one, if you like. You small or medium? Small, I bet. They're not selling so well since you started calling him "The Dragon."” Freddie says with a drawl.
“The killer's objection to the name "Tooth Fairy" is likely grounded in the homosexual implication of the word "fairy." Tedious, I know, but if you really want to piss him off, that's what you should call him.” Chilton suggests.
“The Tooth Fairy it is.” Y/N leans on the wall. Freddie presses the "record" button. The LED readout begins to crawl as it begins to record. as he speaks authoritatively:
“The Tooth Fairy's actions indicate a projective delusion compensating for intolerable feelings of inadequacy. Smashing mirrors ties these feelings to his appearance.” Y/N watches with a python's patience. Knowing how it might unravel. Puppeteering through others.
“Not only is the Tooth Fairy insane, he is ugly and impotent.” Will's abrupt interruption and "interpretation" momentarily throws Dr. Chilton off, but he quickly recovers. “There's a strong bonding of aggressive and sexual drives that occurs in sadists at an early age.”
“He's a vicious, perverted, sexual failure. An animal.” Dr. Chilton stares at Will, then continues: “The savage acts aimed primarily at the women, and performed in the presence of family, are clearly strikes at a maternal figure.”
“The Tooth Fairy's the product of an incestuous home.” Freddie laps this up as she scribbles notes.
“This is the child of a nightmare.” The compassion of those words hangs in the air a moment, forcing Will to consider their weight, then: Freddie presses the "stop" button and it ceases to record.
“We need a key shot taken in your "Washington hideaway."” As she speaks, Freddie produces an ARTIST'S CONCEPT DRAWING of Francis Dolarhyde, something more akin to Frankenstein's monster, lurking in the shadows, with a cleft palate.
“I'd love something like you in a bathrobe, at the desk, poring over an artists's conception of the Fairy. Y/N behind you maybe?”
“We'll stand by the window. Make sure you can see the fountain and the Capitol dome behind me. The Red Dragon has to be able to find this place, if he wants to.” Will stands next to the window Holding his Wife, the Capitol dome in the deep background, as Freddie readies the lens on her camera.
The fountain below can be clearly seen behind them, as well as the Capitol dome. Will and Y/N take an awkward pose. Just before Freddie can shoot -- Will looks at Chilton. “Would you like to be in the picture, Frederick?”
“One for the dust jacket.” Dr. Chilton joins Will and Y/N, and adopts his best media pose -- but just before the shutter, Will raises his arm and places it round Chilton in comradely fashion. Chilton placing his hand on Y/Ns Lower back. The FRAME FREEZES on this shot of friends in arms. Will's location clear.
HOTEL - FOUNTAIN - DAY-
Will Graham and Jack Crawford walk past the fountain toward his hotel. “This whole procedure is too passive for my taste. We are playing games in the dark of the moon.”
“He thinks he can do anything. Maybe he thinks he can stop. If he can hold off until we catch him, maybe we can help him make it stop.”
“He almost killed your wife and daughter.”
“Hannibal almost killed them.” Jack studies Will, then notes the light in the sky changing. “Pedestrian traffic falls off around 7:15. You should go for a walk around 8:30 or so. He'll have to come over open ground to get close.”
“He'll want to get close.”
“I have snipers with night-vision on the roofs. You'll wear body armor.” Will smiles at Jack -- who's he kidding? “Seven out of eleven times, he's gone for the headshot, Jack. Do you even run things by Y/N before you present them?”
BSHCI - CORRIDOR - DAY-
Alana carries the padded envelope inexorably headed for --
BSHCI - HANNIBAL LECTER'S CELL - DAY-
CH-CHUNK! The delivery tray jerks open and the envelope lands inside it, address up. Another CH-CHUNK and it's gone. “Hand delivered.” Alana doesn't respond, just stares. “May I open it privately?”
“You may not.” Hannibal Takes it and sits, curious, examining the block capitals of the address. He tears open the envelope and a smaller envelope slips out.
Alana watches carefully. In the second envelope, Hannibal finds a gauze-wrapped bundle. He unrolls it, curiosity piqued, to reveal a pair of pink, leech-like PIECES OF FLESH. FREDERICK CHILTON'S LIPS.
Hannibal's at once intrigued and flattered. He considers the two wet offerings starkly vivid against the white bandaging, then shows them to Alana on the other side of the glass. Words written in a personal, emotional hand: "With These He Offended Me."
“Dr. Chilton often offended me with his ignorant drivel. So I certainly understand the sentiment.” l he is in a straightjacket, secured to his hand truck. We are –
BSHCI - HANNIBAL LECTER'S CELL - DAY-
Alana is inside Hannibal's cell, along with Jack. Hannibal is behind the table, which has been returned to the room, flanked by two ORDERLIES standing behind him in the shadows. On the table is the package and its contents. Alana has her eyes down on the card. Jack glances at the package contents.
“Where's the other one?” tilts down to the same gauze -- and the SINGLE LIP lying there.
“This one can provide you anything the other one can.” Hannibal smiles, the cat who ate the canary, or the lip. “I'm sorry, Jack. The tragedy of what's happened to Frederick has put me in an excellent humor.” Jack and Alana both stare a moment, then: “Frederick Chilton disappeared yesterday, under armed escort.”
“You pretended to burn Freddie Lounds in a wheelchair to flush me out. What were you pretending to do with Frederick Chilton?”
“He profiled the Dragon. For Freddie Lounds.” Jack says it in a tone that would make it seem any better. “We wanted to enrage him.”
“Congratulations. You could've provided anything Dr. Chilton could. That would've been your lip I was tasting. Again.”
“You publicly discredited Dr. Chilton. By refuting him, you orchestrated his end by proxy.” Jack scrutinizes.
“You orchestrated his end, Alana. You saw the hole and let him roll right into it. That's professional discourtesy.” Alana reeling from that clean, effective blow...
BAU - DR. Y/N GRAHAM-L/N'S OFFICE - DAY-
Lit by the changing images on the screen, Will, Y/N and Alana silently watch the film unrolling.
Chilton in Dolarhyde's house, secured to the wheelchair, facing camera. Behind him, a projector screen is silently playing footage Dolarhyde filmed of Y/N and Brianna at Will's cabin. Will stares, but says nothing. Chilton is frightened as he speaks, taking pains to stick to the Dragon's script:
“I have had a great privilege. I have seen with wonder and awe the strength of the Great Red Dragon. I lied about Him. All that was said was lies from Will Graham. He made me say them. I have blasphemed against the Dragon. Even so, the Dragon is merciful. He knows you made me lie, Will Graham. Because I was forced to lie, He will be more merciful to me than to you, Will Graham, Dr. Graham-L/N”
Chilton pauses and then continues. The group watches in horrified silence. Will's pulse pounds in his ears. He glances at Y/N and Alana -- both, for a brief horrifying moment, have mirror shards in their bleeding eyes. A blink, and they're normal.
“Reach behind you, Will Graham, Dr. Graham-L/N and feel for the small knobs on the top of your pelvis. Feel your spine between them; that is the precise spot where the Dragon will snap your spines. There's much for you to dread. From my own lips, you'll learn a little more to dread.”
The video image clips as the camera is paused, and then starts recording again. Dolarhyde's muscular back, with the Great Red Dragon emblazoned across it, looms INTO FRAME and Chilton begins screaming horribly.
“Turn it off, Y/N.” Alana looks away. Will slides down the wall to his haunches, head down. Over this, we hear: “No... 'o, 'ou 'romised... 'ou 'Romised.” Chilton's voice descends into wet, racking, agonized sobs.
“Turn it off.” The monitor clicks off, leaving them in dark silence. Alana is just as unsettled as Will is. More so. Bright flashes begin to ignite in the room as Will hyperventilates. He puts his head between his knees until the bright spots stop dancing in front of his eyes.
TWISTED MINDS: Act III- Chapter Thirty-Seven And the Beast from the Sea
TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Implied Death, Death, Mentions of Cannibalism, Guns, Mental Heath, Mentions of Death of Children, Illusions to Sexual Aggravation, Attempted Murder
Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.
Taglist: @punkin-time @miaowkitty @gabriella-aesthetic @urlocalfanficwriter @dilfdemolisher
Twisted Minds Masterlist
BAU - JACK CRAWFORD'S OFFICE - DAY-
Will staring across the desk at JACK CRAWFORD staring at the candid pictures, of the Jacobi and Leeds families, in his hand. “Nightly news countdown to the next full moon. Chicago and Buffalo police are under a media blitz.”
“He's not going to kill again in Chicago or Buffalo. He's moved on.” Will scoffs. “Let me fill you in on what's up for the twenty-fifth.”
“When he does it again?”
“If we have a problem on the twenty-fifth.”
“Not "if." "When."”
“Both times it's been on a Saturday. Jacobis were on a full moon on a Saturday night. Leedses, day short of a full moon, but also Saturday night. This time, full moon falls on a Monday. He likes the weekend, so we're ready from Friday on.” Jack says confidently
“Ready? We're ready? Jack. you're not even head of the BAU anymore.”
“We have a Gulfstream standing by at Andrews Air Force Base. Y/N, Me, you, Zeller, Jimmy Price, a photographer and two people to do interrogations, soon as the call comes in, we're on our way. Anywhere in the East or South, we can be there in an hour.” Will nods, taking it in, then: “People are going to panic. Householders will shoot relatives coming home late. Prowler calls will multiply, so will useless tips.”
“Despair's going around like the flu. Families are frightened. If Lecter can deliver, he'd better do it in your next conversation.”
“He's not going to deliver.”
“He wanted you to meet the Dragon. He nudged you in that direction.”
“That nudge is a smokescreen for something much more coercive.”
“You said he knows this killer.”
“Think I can leach it out of him? Hannibal's never going to walk, no matter what. He could raise the dead and they wouldn't let him out. All that's left for him is fun. So that's what he's going to have.” Will shakes his head.
FISHING CABIN - DAY-
Y/N as she comes out onto the porch, pulling on her coat. I had taken the day off. Brianna is yelling: “Mama! Mama!” I walk along the porch to find Brianna. “What? What?” She's squatting next to a couple of dogs lying on their sides. “Something's wrong with the dogs.”
VET'S OFFICE - DAY-
CLIENTS waiting with DOGS and PETS in carriers or on their laps. A RECEPTIONIST behind a small counter. SLAM! The exterior door flies open and everyone starts as Y/N and Brianna rush in, each of them carrying a sick dog. Brianna Cradling her Puppy, Sunny.
“I got a lot of sick dogs here. There's more in the truck.” her urgency…
VET'S OFFICE - DAY-
Y/N is with a VETERINARIAN in a white smock coat. Brianna is in the background, watching as they talk behind the counter.
“They may have gotten into something they shouldn't have. Has there been any changes in their diet?” Y/N can feel Brianna's stare and tries to wrangle the guilt. “My husband usually makes their food from scratch. But Me and Him are in and out of town and it's a lot of work. So I've been feeding them canned food.”
“Was it canned food made in China?”
“Is it bad to be made in China?”
“If you're pet food. Dogs get poisoned by Chinese pet food all the time. Pet food safety isn't regulated the same way as human food. And it's barely regulated at all in China. There have been thousands of illnesses and deaths.” Y/N is mortified and Brianna, The poor sweet toddler is growing increasingly concerned for the lives of their dogs. “Thousands?”
“Thousands.” On the other side of the counter, peering over the top: “Are the dogs going to die?”
“No, they're not gonna– Are the dogs gonna die?” Y/N analyzes the woman. “No. You got them here fast and the activated charcoal should soak up whatever's in their system. But it'd be helpful if you brought me a sample of whatever they've been eating so we can run some tests.”
“I'll Have someone bring it by tomorrow.” The veterinarian smiles and puts a hand on Y/N's arm. “We'll keep the dogs overnight so we can monitor their recovery. They'll be fine.” Y/N as she nods her thanks. The veterinarian moves off and Y/N comes to Brianna.
“Are you going to tell Daddy?” The toddler tilts her head. “You know how I always said secrets were bad and you shouldn't keep secrets? Well, I have an amendment to that. And we're gonna keep this secret for now. Just you and me.”
“You want me to lie?” At times like this Y/N wishes her Daughter wasnt as smart as she is. “It's not a lie if you keep your mouth shut. Your dad has enough to worry about without worrying if I'm going to poison the dogs again.” Y/N walking Brianna toward the door, finds the FBI WARNING pinned to a cork board behind the counter. "Report immediately any pet mutilations to the FBI hotline." Fuck…..
BSHCI - HANNIBAL LECTER'S CELL - NIGHT-
The moon shines down the oculus in Hannibal's cell, creating a spotlight of soft silver that we find HANNIBAL standing within. He raises a hand to the light, turning it slowly. “I'm not fortune's fool. I'm yours. "Behold the Great Red Dragon."”
“And did you?”
“I had a random encounter.”
“Randomness is nothing intrinsic. Simply a lack of information.”
“The Brooklyn Museum is closed to the public on Tuesdays, but researchers are admitted. You knew that's when we'd both be going.”
“A sophisticated intelligence can forecast many things. I suppose mine is sophisticated enough. You're so close to him now. You and the Dragon are doing the same things at various times of the day.” Hannibal turns and we RACK to find Will Graham beyond the glass, Hannibal becoming an unfocused reflection. “He's contacted you.”
“How do you imagine he's contacted me? Personal ads? Writing notes of admiration on toilet paper?”
BSHCI - HANNIBAL LECTER'S CELL - NIGHT-
Hannibal and Will still face one another. “Alana thinks he's trying to stop.” Hannibal comes closer to the glass.
“To begin to understand the Dragon, to hear the cold drips in his darkness, Dr. Bloom would have to see things she could never see.” Hannibal moves back to the oculus and the beam of moonlight, stands in its glow and looks to Will in the shadows beyond.
“She would have to fly through time.”
FISHING CABIN - NIGHT-
Now comfortably wreathed in shadow. We follow his gaze from his vantage point in the trees to where Y/N and Brianna, having just gotten home, head from the car to the cabin.
BSHCI - HANNIBAL LECTER'S CELL - NIGHT-
Will regards Hannibal, connections forming into certainty. “There is a family out there who don't know he's coming. We could save them. Tell me who he is.”
“I don't know who he is.” Will studies Hannibal -- he's telling the truth. “When you close your eyes, Will, is it your family you see?”
“How is he choosing them?”
“How he's choosing them is not how you'll catch him.” Hannibal Chuckles darkly, “How?”
“Social media, I imagine. Can't be too careful with privacy settings.”
“Do you know who they are?”
“Yes.”
“You're willing to let them die.”
“I'm not letting them die, Will. You are.” Hannibal smirks, though who he chose, He would never sentence to death.
FISHING CABIN - NIGHT-
The full moon is bright and high in the sky. TRACK DOWN to the cabin silhouetted below, amid the snow and trees. Orange light burns in the windows. Flames from the fire flicker. Y/N and Brianna pass back and forth before the windows.
Reveal Dolarhyde. He watches them calmly. Patient now. The warm light from the house plays on his face. And then disappears as the lights go out.
DOLARHYDE A terrifying smile as he looks to the now-darkened cabin. It is almost time...moves around him until the moon seems to rest on his shoulder like a friend, sending him into silhouette.
FISHING CABIN - BEDROOM - NIGHT-
Y/N wakes up. Some sixth sense pinging in her brain. The darkness of the bedroom envelopes her, moonlight throwing shadows of the trees against the walls. Y/N looks to an alarm monitor on the wall, blinking a reassuring green.
The light goes dead. Fear slams into Y/N, which she controls. She peers into the darkness of the room, ears straining. As Y/N slides from the bed... Grabbing her Gun from her Nightstand.
FISHING CABIN - BRIANNA'S ROOM - NIGHT-
Brianna, asleep. Y/N rouses her gently, leaning in so she can see her. As he comes to, she puts her finger to her lips and Brianna nods.
Y/N motions her out of bed and quickly helps her into a coat and shoes, throwing tense glances toward the door. She moves to a window and pulls back the drapes, revealing a small dormer window set against the pitch of the roof.
Y/N carefully unlatches the window, as Brianna looks on, and slowly pushes it open. It jams on ice frozen in the frame. Y/N throws glances back toward the closed door, fighting her instincts. A CREAK from the stairs below. BLACK BOOTS Slowly come up the stairs.
Brianna Stares at Y/N in fear. The window frame stops moving, jammed. BLACK BOOTS Move along the hallway. Y/N Makes a snap decision and motions Brianna up and out. She helps her as she clambers onto the roof.
“Wait for me by the car. Count to a hundred. If you see anyone but me, run for the road.” Y/N Kisses her Daughters Head. “I love you so much.” The terrified toddler nods. “I love you too Mama.”
Y/N Turns as Brianna disappears from view. She has never felt so scared. Not since she was 16. Y/N as she turns back to the room and stops as a shadow passes by the crack beneath the door, moving toward her own bedroom.
As he moves down the hall toward Y/N's bedroom, his gun in his hand. Slowly, behind him, Brianna's door opens and Y/N as she sees the intruder in her home. Dolarhyde moves toward Y/N's bedroom. Carefully, ever so carefully, Y/N exits Brianna's room and slides down the hallway behind Dolarhyde. Loading her Gun.
FISHING CABIN - NIGHT-
Brianna's feet land in the snow as he drops the last couple feet from the roof and runs for the cover of the car. He drops into a crouch behind the car and turns to watch the house.
In Y/N's bedroom as he realizes the bed is empty. He turns and runs back into the hallway, slams open Brianna's bedroom door and sees the open window.
On the stairs as she hears the sudden CLATTER of Dolarhyde's footsteps and she rushes for the living room, knowing he is right behind her. Y/N exits. Two seconds later, Dolarhyde's boots CLATTER down the stairs. he moves into the living room. He sweeps the dark room with his gun. Moving toward the front door.
FISHING CABIN - NIGHT-
Brianna hides behind Y/N's car, shivering as She counts: “Forty-seven, forty-eight…”
FISHING CABIN - UNDER THE PORCH - NIGHT-
A log store door as it slowly opens. The log store is under the porch.
Y/N carefully emerges, dirty with dust. She moves under the porch, using stacked piles of firewood as cover. Through the gaps in the wood, she can see her car. She cautiously makes her way to the nearest woodpile and peeks out. Gun at the ready.
Brianna, Behind the car. “Seventy-one, seventy-two…” Her small little voice shakes softly. Y/N moves from behind the logs and she catches Brianna's eye. Her face lights up. Y/N waves her to her.
Brianna nods, but then freezes and hides again! CREAK! Y/N to reveal Dolarhyde is now a dark shadow on the porch directly above her. Brianna cowers behind the car.
Y/N, desperate to reach her Little Daughter. Mind racing, ever aware of Dolarhyde's feet above, moving toward the car and Brianna. Brianna's face appears under the car and Y/N holdsup a hand: "Wait for me."
DOLARHYDE is Moving closer and closer to where Y/N's car is. Only a matter of time until he sees Brianna's footprints.
Y/N Beneath the porch as she hurls a branch out into the dark woods beyond the cabin. DOLARHYDE hears a sudden CLATTER behind him in the trees. Dolarhyde spins and runs back to the other end of the porch.
As Dolarhyde runs left to check out the sound, Y/N is moving right.
Y/N's waving her out from behind the car. Brianna hesitates, but Y/N waves her on. DOLARHYDE Raises a flashlight and, suddenly, a harsh beam of light illuminates the woods to the left of the cabin. He scans the trees, gun at the ready.
Behind Dolarhyde, Brianna runs to Y/N from behind the car, and she grabs her in a fierce embrace. She holds her like she’ll never let go. She wont fail her Daughter like she did her brothers, Like she did Abigail.
.
Brianna holds Y/N's gaze. Above them, the CREAK of footsteps as Dolarhyde comes back their way. Now what?
Y/N pulls the car alarm fob from her pocket. Shows it to Brianna. She nods, understanding. Clever Girl. She presses the button. BARP, BARP, BARP, BARP! The sudden blare and flash of the car alarm cut the silence.
DOLARHYDE comes charging along the porch, making for the car, lights flashing in the dark. His boots land hard in the snow and he moves for the car, noting the footprints leading from the house. He rushes behind the car to find – NOTHING. Enraged, he casts the flashlight across the ground -- and sees footprints leading back under the porch...
WOODS - NIGHT-
Y/N and Brianna run hard through the trees, breathing hard, leaving deep prints.
ROAD - NIGHT-
Headlights cutting through trees. Y/N and Brianna are running for the road and Y/N motions Brianna to stay back as she steps into the road, waving her arms, causing the car's DRIVER to slow and skid sideways in a SCREECH of brakes. The driver gets out, engine still running. Y/N is already herding Brianna toward the car.
“I almost killed you! What are you doing?”
“FBI! Get back in the car. We have to go.” She Flashes her Badge and Gun. She pushes Brianna before her, into the backseat, past the bewildered driver.
“What are you -- you can't just–” P-KEE. THE DRIVER as a bullet hits him in the head, dropping him to the ground in a spray of blood. Brianna screams. Y/N risks a look behind her to see Dolarhyde coming. Totally focused on survival, she steps over the dead driver and gets into the driver's seat of the car.
DRIVER'S CAR - NIGHT-
Y/N jumps in the driver's seat and jams it into reverse. Dolarhyde opens fire and the side windows explode. Y/N Shoots Back. One leg still hanging from the driver's-side door, Y/N hauls herself fully into the car as the momentum of her turn swings the door closed.
Y/N jams the car into drive, Dolarhyde now looming in the back window. “Get down!” Y/N hits the gas and the car wheels spin away down the road. Dolarhyde fires and the rear windshield explodes as bullets hit it.
Y/N screams as at least one bullet grazes her. The front windshield shatters as a slug hits it and Y/N's blood splashes across it. “Mama!”
“Shhh…Its okay Baby.” Relentless, Y/N keeps the car on the road and drives away… ...leaving Dolarhyde standing in the road, amid the aftermath, enraged at his failure. He looks to the sky and screams in frustration and rage as Y/N's taillights disappear into the distance...
HOSPITAL - WAITING ROOM - DAY-
A view through the door to where Jack is sitting slumped against a couch. He watches for a while, part of him wanting never to enter. And then he does. Jack looks up at Will, conflicting emotions flashing across his face, but he says nothing.
“She's in surgery now.” Will is Cradling his Daughter, her head lays on his shoulder. Intuitively Knowing That her Daddy needs more Comfort than she does. She lifts her head. “Daddy is the bad man gonna try to get us again?”
“No Honey, We’re safe here.” He brushes hair out of her face. “Whats he want?”
“We don't know what he wants.
“Are you gonna kill him?” Will closes his eyes for a moment, His Daughter already has his and Y/N’s Mind, then: “No. I'm going to catch him. They'll put him in a mental hospital so they can treat him and keep him from hurting anybody else.”
Brianna Stares at her father. Noticing the tired anguish on his face. “When I married your Mama. I promised to keep Her safe. And keep you safe too..”
“One day I’ll catch the Bad guys too.” Brianna Says with a smile. Will Laughs softly. “And you will be the best.”
“you shouldn't put the bad man in a mental hospital, you should kill him.” Brianna Kisses her Daddy’s Cheek and lays her head back down. Will studies His daughter. Kissing her head softly.
HOSPITAL - CORRIDOR - DAY-
Will lets Brianna Fall asleep. “Is she Alright? I’m sure everything was alot for her.”
“She seems alright. She is Wise beyond her age. I dont even know how. She always just knows. I mean shes Three…” Will is visibly seething, letting a little out now that he's not trying to put on a stiff upper lip for the Toddler. “She found a Freddie Lounds article About me. She didnt say anything. But i know.”
“Resentment's raising a blister in you, Will.”
“You think you might lose me after this, Jack? You think I might go back to my family?” Jack stares at Will -- is this a challenge? “For a minute, I did.”
“Then you realized what I realized: I can't go home, and neither can Y/N and Bri, never, until the Red Dragon is out of the way.”
“As soon as we can we'll put Brianna at my brother's house on the Chesapeake. Nobody in the world will know where they are but you, Me and Y/N.”
“Y/N's not going to want anything from you, Jack. She'd be glad to see you in hell with your back broken. She feels as though you keep walking over her position within the bureau.” The quiet delivery of this hits Jack harder than anything. Will exits, leaving Jack alone.
We bring up his own PULSE, loud in his head, as he slows and stop outside a hospital room. Y/N lies within, bloody dressings across her torso, her face scratched and bruised. Eyes closed. Tubes and IVs attached. The slow, steady BEEP of electronic monitoring. Will moves into the room and just stands.
Finally, he moves closer, takes the chair and sits. Y/N's hand rests atop the sheet and Will strokes it. Y/N is unmoving, the steady BLEEP, BLEEP, BLEEP of her pulse is the only sound. A tear splashes onto her hand. And then another. his head on Y/N's hand, silently sobbing as he takes in his brave wife.
HOSPITAL - Y/N'S ROOM - NIGHT-
Y/N lies in her bed. Will asleep in the chair tucked under the television, Their Daughter Lay in his lap.
I watch Will a moment, a tear streaks my cheek. Will opens his eyes and we look at each other. Frank gazes, but the silence is awkward; so much love, guilt, rage. Will sets their daughter down and crosses to Y/N's side, taking her hand, kissing her gently across her face. “Hi honey…”
“Bri's safe. The dogs are safe. We're picking them up, bringing them in.” A weak smile, then: “You look exhausted.” I stroke his face softly. He laughs softly. I sigh. “I Shouldn’tve taken a day off. Bri wouldn't have had to-”
“Honey, you couldn't possibly take all the responsibility. He came after you and Bri because Hannibal suggested it, urged him to do it. Like he always does.” Will strokes my hair out of my face. “He knew We’d make it out. He’s not an idiot, Will. He wouldn't have suggested it otherwise. It was a warning.” I say knowingly, “I know it was.”
“Bri almost died. Our Daughter almost died. I almost died. I knew it was him. I knew it was him. I saw our picture in that paper and I knew it was him.” She takes a deep breath and when she lets it out, the anger seems to go with it, leaving her tired and calm. “Hell, I got mad there for a second.”
“I hate this, Care. I'm sorry.”
“Will, I allowed Jack to pull you back into this. And I knew- I’m the one who is sorry. You will not apologize for something that I caused.” I Shake my head softly. He grabs my face. “Y/N….”
“Bri’s going into protective custody?” I ask softly, “Yes.” I study him, I can sense he's still very haunted. “Tough to hold onto anything good. It's all so slippery.”
“Slick as hell.”
BSHCI - HANNIBAL LECTER'S CELL - DAY-
As Will walks toward the glass. Hannibal regards him from the opposite side. PROFILE ANGLE -- the glass centers the FRAME, Will and Hannibal equidistant apart from it. “I'm just about worn out with you crazy sons of bitches.”
“The essence of the worst of the human spirit is not found in the crazy sons of bitches. Ugliness is found in the faces of the crowd.”
“What did you say to him?”
“"Save yourself. Kill them all." Then I gave him your home address.” Will stares at him a moment, wrapping his head around Hannibal's simple, unapologetic reply. “Always scheming toward hurt.”
“How is Y/N?”
“How's my wife? She's lucky.”
“I Knew when i suggested it that they would get out- Y/N, Y/N is a very abnormal person. That's why she's so perfect for Us. She has a person suit. When you look at them now, what do you see?” Hannibal asks curiously, “You know what I see.”
“Before he became the Red Dragon, this shy boy would not have dared any of this.”
“Now he thinks he can do anything. Anything. Anything”. Will nearly sneers, “Fear brushes the walls of your chest, circling inside you like a bat in a house. Get hold of it.”
“The Dragon's gotten hold of his.”
“The Dragon likely thinks you're as much a monster as you think he is.”
“Is this a competition?”
“"Two souls, alas, are dwelling in my breast, and one is striving to forsake its brother." The Great Red Dragon is freedom to him, shedding his skin, the sound of his voice, his own reflection. The building of a new body and the othering of himself, the splitting of his personality, all seem active and deliberate. He craves change.”
“He didn't murder those families? He changed them?” Will furrows his brows. “He wants to change you, too. Don't you crave change, Will?”
TWISTED MINDS: Act III- Chapter Thirty-Six And the Woman clothed in the Sun
TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Implied Death, Death, Mentions of Cannibalism, Guns, Mental Heath, Mentions of Death of Children, Illusions to Sexual Aggravation
Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.
Taglist: @punkin-time @miaowkitty @gabriella-aesthetic @urlocalfanficwriter @dilfdemolisher
Twisted Minds Masterlist
LECTURE HALL - DAY-
BEDELIA DU MAURIER is on stage behind a podium, delivering an inspirational lecture to a capacity crowd.
“Day and evening again, the smell of fresh flowers and the vague awareness of a needle bleeding into me. Hannibal always stood at a distance, very still. There were days of talk. He never called me my name. It was strange at first, and then it wasn't strange. And then my name was Lydia Fell.” The audience watches rapt as Bedelia paces in front of a large Hieronymus Bosch mural.
“Deeply-felt truths of who I am as Bedelia Du Maurier were smoke and mirrors of the highest order.” In the rear of the theater, Bedelia can see WILL GRAHAM has just entered, quietly taking a seat on the aisle.
“What we take for granted about our sense of self, everything we see, everything we remember, is nothing more than a construct of the mind.” Bedelia walks down the aisle, placing a gentle hand on Will's shoulder as she passes, walking back toward the Bosch. He eyes her with an uneasy mix of skepticism and sympathy.
“Dante was the first to conceive of hell as a planned space. An urban environment. Before Dante, we spoke not of the "Gates of Hell," but the "Mouth of Hell." My journey of damnation began when I was swallowed by the beast.” She locks eyes with Will, and we –
MINUTES LATER
The lecture now over, people are filing toward the exit, past Bedelia who humbly accepts their congratulations, offers her thanks, shakes their hands. She closes the doors and turns. Will, who has patiently been waiting his turn, finally confronts Bedelia who puts on a friendly face.
“Poor Dr. Du Maurier, swallowed whole. Suffering inside Hannibal Lecter's bowels for what must have felt like an eternity. You didn't lose yourself, Bedelia, you just crawled so far up his ass you couldn't be bothered.”
“Hello, Will.” Will takes in the impressive space of Bedelia's lecture. “You hitched your star to a man commonly known as a monster. You're the Bride of Frankenstein.”
“We've both been his bride.”
“How did you manage to walk away unscarred? I'm covered with scars.”
“I wasn't myself. You were. Even when you weren't, you were.”
“I wasn't wearing adequate armor.”
“No. You were naked. Have you been to see him?”
“Yes.”
“Haven't learned anything, have you? Or did you just miss him that much?” Will considers, decides the question is rhetorical. “Have you been to see him?”
“I've seen enough of him. I was with him behind the veil. You were always on the other side.” The simplicity of that strikes Will. Bedelia gathers up her notes and her briefcase next to the podium. “Something we should talk about.”
“You'll have to make an appointment.” She heads off, out the doors and swallowed up by the crowd. OFF Will watching her go...
BSHCI - HANNIBAL LECTER'S CELL - DAY-
CAMERA PUSHES IN ON Hannibal as he writes at his worktable. He finishes the note and places it in an envelope addressed to: "Bedelia Du Maurier, c/o FBI."
BEDELIA'S HOME OFFICE - DAY-
Will is sitting opposite Bedelia in the patient's chair, which previously had been occupied only by Hannibal. “If he does end up eating you, Bedelia, you'd have it coming.”
“I can't blame him for doing what evolution has equipped him to do.”
“If we just do whatever evolution equipped us to do, then murder and cannibalism are morally acceptable.”
“They are acceptable. To murderers and cannibals. And you and your Wife.”
“And you. You lied, Bedelia. You do that a lot. Why do you do that a lot?”
“I obfuscate. Hannibal was never not my patient. Covert treatment suffers secrecy and disapproval.”
“Covert because Hannibal was an uncooperative patient?”
“Covert because I was a cooperative psychiatrist. "Do no harm."”
“And did you?”
“I did. Technically.”
“You dared to care.”
“Not the first time I've lost professional objectivity in a matter where Hannibal is concerned.” Will now sits across from Bedelia as she reminisces: “How is one patient worthy of compassion and not another?”
“I'm under no illusions how morally consistent my compassion has been. How is one murderer worthy of compassion and not another?”
“We're morally schizophrenic when it comes to Hannibal. And we both seem to keep getting away with it.”
“One of us is more scarred than the other. I was granted immunity from prosecution by the U.S. Attorney. Not a good way to learn a lesson.”
“All that time you were with Hannibal behind the veil, you'd already killed one patient, ever occur to you to kill another?”
“My relationship with Hannibal isn't as passionate as yours. You are here visiting an old flame. Are You aware how intimately your Wife and Hannibal know each other?” Bedelia tilts her head in curiosity, In italy, Many times she had found herself in conversation about Y/N. Hannibal always seemed infatuated? No. not the word she'd use. “I am Very aware.”
“You couldn't save Hannibal. Do you think you can save this new one?” Will is struck by the question, but doesn't answer. “Your experience of Hannibal's attention is so profoundly harmful, yet so irresistible, it undermines your ability to think rationally.”
Bedelia and Will, as before. “You're walking down the street and you see a wounded bird in the grass. What's your first thought?”
“It's vulnerable, I want to help it.”
“My first thought is also that it's vulnerable. Yet I want to crush it. A primal rejection of weakness which is every bit as natural as the nurturing instinct. Of course, I wouldn't crush it, but my first thought would be to do just that.”
BEDELIA'S HOME OFFICE - DAY-
Bedelia and Will, as before. “One thing Hannibal taught me is the alchemy of lies and truths. It's how he convinced you you're a killer. How convinced he is that your Wife is one.”
“You're not convinced?”
“You're not a killer. You're capable of righteous violence because you are compassionate. And your Wife….Well Dr. Y/N Graham-L/N is another thing entirely. She speaks as though you both put the stars in the sky.”
“How are you capable?”
“Extreme acts of cruelty require a high degree of empathy. The next time your instinct is to help someone, you should really consider crushing them instead. You might save yourself some trouble.”
BSHCI - HANNIBAL LECTER'S CELL - DAY-
Hannibal is studying a photograph of the symbol found at the Jacobi house as he and Will converse through the glass. “It was done carefully and cleanly, with a very sharp knife. It was not the work of a child.”
“It's a Chinese character which means, "You hit it," an expression sometimes used in gambling.”
“A lucky sign. The character also appears on a mahjongg piece. Marks the Red Dragon.”
"And behold a great red dragon..." Will eyes Hannibal for a moment, knowing tricks and manners. “Are you familiar with William Blake's The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed in Sun? Blake's Dragon stands over a pleading woman caught in the coil of its tail. Few images in Western art radiate such a unique and nightmarish charge of demonic sexuality.”
“The man who killed the Jacobis and the Leedses saw something in them that drew him and drove him to do it. He chose them because something in them spoke to him.”
“The Jacobis were the first to help him, the first to lift him into the Glory of his Becoming. The Jacobis were better than anything he knew.”
“Until the Leedses.”
“As the Dragon grows in strength and Glory, there are families to come.”
“I have to believe there is a common factor and we'll find it soon.”
“Otherwise you have to enter more houses and see what the Dragon has left for you. Eleven days to the next full moon. Tick-tock. I like this Dragon, Will. I don't think he's crazy at all. I think he may be quite sane. A magnificent thing, to watch the world through his red haze.”
BROOKLYN MUSEUM - MAIN LEVEL - DAY-
Will Graham is led by a TOUR GUIDE toward the elevator bank. “This way, Mr. Graham. You know, you're the second person who's asked to see the Blake today.” At that, Will grows anxious.
BROOKLYN MUSEUM - BASEMENT - DAY-
The GREAT RED DRAGON stands in the aisle where Dolarhyde once stood, back flexing, wings extending as it appears in The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed in Sun. We hear a trumpet blast of Dragon's ROAR and --
Dolarhyde, now wearing Grandmother's dentures, stares at the watercolor. It's unsettling. He opens his mouth and bites into the painting, tearing off the Red Dragon's head. In a surreal effect, his HEAD CONTORTS between seven different head positions, each time ripping another piece of the Great Red Dragon off and chewing.
A piece gets stuffed into his furiously-gnashing jaws. Dolarhyde stuffing the last of the painting into his mouth, swallowing it down. He stands there a moment, blood pumping, exhilarated. And then the DING of the arriving elevator at the end of the hall.
AT THE BASEMENT ELEVATOR The doors open and Will follows the tour guide out and down the aisle, past racks of paintings stored there. “Wait here. Paula, I have another visitor for the Great Red Dragon.”
The DING of the elevator doors behind him draws Will's attention. He turns to see the elevator doors open. Curious, he approaches with no particular urgency. The closer he gets, he starts to see a foot peeking out from just inside the doors, who it belongs to still obstructed. “Paula? Paula.”
The concern in the tour guide's voice causes Will to turn his head as the elevator doors begin to close. He glances back as the doors slide closed, and gets a brief look at Dolarhyde Inside.
Will glimpses Dolarhyde's cleft palate, and glimpses his averted eyes, only now glancing back above the brow and making eye contact. Will rushes the closing doors, catching the rubber release bar and sending the doors opening again.
Before Will can calibrate, Dolarhyde snatches him by the collar with a startling power. Dolarhyde slams Will into the roof of the elevator car and violently back down to the floor. BAM. BAM. And then tosses him right back out the doors.
Will slides to a stop outside the elevator, bloodied and bruised and dazed. Dolarhyde stares passionately back at Will as he presses the elevator's "CLOSE" button. Will tries to get to his feet, but is too wounded and slips briefly before finding his footing as the elevator doors close.
BROOKLYN MUSEUM - MAIN LEVEL - DAY-
An alarm is RINGING. Will clamors out a stairwell door, beat to hell; he runs into the main hall, desperately searching for any sign of Dolarhyde. He's gone. Slightly battered, but cleaned up. “He ate a painting.”
BAU - DR. Y/N GRAHAM-L/N'S OFFICE - DAY-
Y/N slams her door shut. Will and ALANA steel themselves for the coming storm. “Ate it?”
“Ate it up. The Art Squad in New York snapped to it when they found out what he ate. It's rarely displayed. Two-hundred-year-old watercolor. Light fades it.” I roll my eyes and sigh. “They got two partial prints off the plastic pass he used. No ID, but it's the same thumb that was on Mrs. Leeds's eye.” I explain, “What about the docent at the museum?”
“He had a sweet touch with her. She had to have four stitches. Mild concussion, but he didn't kill her.” Will says, Alana furrows her brows, “Why not? Would've been real easy.”
“He would have been better off to kill her. And you. Could have saved himself a description or two.” I say as i run a hand through my hair.
“Maybe he's trying to stop.” That notion lands with Will as he considers. “You think there's any way to push him to be self-destructive?” I ask them, “Push him toward suicide?”
“Suicide suits me just fine.” I say as i crack my neck, With a deep sigh. “If he's really trying to stop, he's not going to kill himself. How could he be sure his death would affect whatever's inside him?”
“You can tell something about him or you wouldn't have found him.” I say knowingly, I know my Husband.
“Watching my cork move against the current. You got me again. Hannibal told me where to find him.” Will says as I nod softly. “Interesting. What do you think?”
“He knows. He knows who the Dragon is. He probably treated him.”
TWISTED MINDS: Act III- Chapter Thirty-Five And the Woman clothed with the Sun
TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Implied Death, Death, Mentions of Cannibalism, Guns, Mental Heath, Mentions of Death of Children, Illusions to Sexual Aggravation
Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.
Taglist: @punkin-time @miaowkitty @gabriella-aesthetic @urlocalfanficwriter @dilfdemolisher
Twisted Minds Masterlist
BSHCI - HANNIBAL LECTER'S CELL - DAY-
the wall of secure glass, DRIFTING THROUGH one of the many holes that dot its surface, to find: HANNIBAL LECTER. He lies on his cot, asleep, his head propped on a pillow against the wall. Alexandre Dumas's Grand Dictionnaire de Cuisine is open on his chest. Eyes still closed, he takes a long slow breath through his nose, smelling the current of air. He opens his eyes.
“That's the same atrocious aftershave you wore in court.” Hannibal rises from the bed and approaches the wall as he is now standing face to face with WILL in profile; the thin line of glass between them makes it look as if they are disparate reflections in a mirror.
“Hello, Hannibal.” I adjust Brianna on my Hip. she lays her head on my shoulder. “Hello, Did you Two get my note?” My brows furrow, I stroke Brianna’s Hair
“I got it. Thank you.” Will says tightly, “Did you read it before you destroyed it? Or did you simply toss it into the nearest fire?” Hannibal Tilts his head. “I read it. And then I burned it.” Will says plainly, I look at him.
“And you came anyway. I'm glad you came. My other callers are all professional. Banal psychiatrists and grasping second-raters. Pencil-lickers trying to protect their tenure with pieces in the journals.” He sighs, his gaze moving from Will, to his wife and daughter.
“I want you to help us, Dr. Lecter.”
“Yes, I thought so. Are we no longer on a first-name basis?”
“I'm more comfortable the less personal we are.” Hannibal regards Will. His nostrils flare as he takes in the scents coming through the holes in the glass.
“Your hands are rough. I smell dogs and pine and oil beneath that shaving lotion. And your daughter. She eats alot of Raspberries doesnt she.” Hannibal turns his Gaze to me and Bri.
“Uh huh, I really like raspberries!” Brianna Answers when she hears Hannibal talk about her. Will Strokes her hair and smiles at her before turning back to hannibal.
“I'm here about Chicago and Buffalo. You've read about it, I'm sure.”
“I've read the papers. I can't clip them. They won't let me have scissors, of course. You want to know how he's choosing them.” He smiles amused. “Thought you would have some ideas.” I show the case files in hand, I let Bri down.
“You just came here to look at me. Came to get the old scent again. Why don't you just smell yourself?”
“I expected more of you, doctor. That routine is old hat.”
“Whereas you are a new man. Are you a good father, Will?” Before Will can reply, “I love my Daddy!” His daughter shouts. Hannibal smiles warmly at the child. “Let me have the file. An hour, and we can discuss it like old times.” Will pushes the file through the document tray, into the cell. Hannibal comes close to collect it.
“Thank you.”
“Family values may have declined over the last century, but we still help our families when we can. You three are family” A moment of sudden emotion for Hannibal he cannot name washing over him. He swallows it down and walks away.
BSHCI - ALANA BLOOM'S OFFICE - DAY-
ALANA and Will take seats in the "living area" of her office. “It's good to see you looking so well, Will. But I can't help wishing you weren't here.”
“Wishing and hoping.”
“How did it feel to see him again?”
“Like Hannibal was looking through to the back of my skull. Felt like a fly flitting around in there.” Alana understands all too well. “I had the absurd feeling that he walked out with me. Had to stop outside the doors and look around, make sure I was alone.”
“I know that feeling. At least Jack Crawford's pleased. I imagine Y/N is not.” Alana Knows how displeased Y/N is with the whole situation. “He showed me pictures of the families. I looked at Y/N and Brianna and couldn't say no.”
“And Jack was counting on it.”
“Are you still with Margot?”
“Yes. We have a baby. A Verger baby. A son.”
“Good for Margot.”
“Good for me. I carried him. He's my son. He's the Verger heir.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“There are only five doors between Hannibal and the outside. And I have the keys to every one of them. Hannibal has never been great with boundaries. "He who sups with the Devil needs a long spoon."” She shows her keys. “I am not letting him in, Alana. Don't worry about me.”
“Last time, it didn't end with you.” Bars CLANG behind him as he walks toward a pair of elegant double doors. A BUZZER sounds and the doors open automatically and dramatically to reveal we are
BSHCI - HANNIBAL LECTER'S CELL - DAY-
Will and Y/N approach the cell wall. Beyond it, Hannibal sits at his plain, bolted-down desk, studying the files, centered in the otherwise-empty room. MUSIC playing. He looks up at Will and Y/N beyond the glass, waiting.
“This is a very shy boy, Will. I'd love to meet him.” On the other side of the glass, Will is now standing in --
HANNIBAL LECTER'S OFFICE - DAY-
Hannibal is dressed in a plaid three-piece suit, standing above his desk, across from Will And Y/N, The glass wall between them gone. “I'm sure you would.”
“Have you considered the possibility that he's disfigured? Or that he may believe he's disfigured?”
“That's interesting.” Will says in a unenthusiastic tone.
“That's not interesting. You thought of that before.” Hannibal notes, his eyes Gazing at Y/N.
“He smashed all the mirrors in the houses, not just enough to get the pieces he wanted. The shards are set so he can see himself. In their eyes. Mrs. Jacobi and Mrs. Leeds. And their families.” I say as Hannibal pulls a picture of dead MRS. JACOBI from the file.
“Could you see yourself in their eyes, Will? Killing them all?” Will's image reflected inside. the mirror shards have been placed in Mrs. Jacobi. We are --
JACOBI HOUSE - BEDROOM - DAY-
Mrs. Jacobi lies in blood-soaked sheets pooling around her to create the billowing shapes of angel wings and flowing robes that were painted gold in Blake's The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed with the Sun, but here are crimson. Will and Hannibal stand over Mrs. Jacobi in her bed, taking the position of the Great Red Dragon in the aforementioned Blake illustration.
“The first small bond to the killer itches and stings like a leech.” Hannibal and Will glance at the broken mirrors of the bedroom -- Will looking at himself in the fractured shards. “Like you, Will, he needs a family to escape what's inside him.”
JACOBI HOUSE - GREAT ROOM - DAY-
Mirrors are broken and bloody footprints mark the floor as it was after the murders. Will regards the room as Hannibal picks up the fallen shard of mirror, examining it. “You know a fair amount about how these families died. How they lived is how he chooses them.”
“How is he choosing them?” I ask with a tilted head.
“How did you two choose each other? You both have made an extraordinary child. Something you both were afraid of was passing on the traits you both want to suppress. Lets just hope little Brianna Can handle what she’s been given.” Hannibal moves to the glass as if he might step through it. Will stares holes at the back of his head.
“Why are there no descriptions of the grounds? I see floor plans, diagrams of the rooms where the deaths occurred, no mention of the grounds. What were the yards like?”
CHICAGO, IL - JACOBI HOUSE - BACKYARD - NIGHT-
Will and Hannibal now in the moonlit backyard. “Big, fenced, with trees. Why?”
“If this pilgrim feels a special relationship with the moon, he might like to go outside and look at it before he tidies himself up. If one were nude, say, it would be better to have outdoor privacy for that sort of thing. One must show some consideration for the neighbors, hmmmm?” Hannibal turns his gaze from Will to the moon.
“Have you ever seen blood in the moonlight, Will?” Will raises a hand so that it's silhouetted against the moon.
“It appears quite black.” When Will lowers his hand again...
BALTIMORE STATE HOSPITAL FOR THE CRIMINALLY INSANE - DAY-
Will And Y/N exit the building and comes down the stairs, files tucked under his arm. Head down. Deep in thought. As he passes the hospital's main sign, he is frozen as a camera shutter CLICKS. REVERSE to find FREDDIE LOUNDS, bundled against the cold, smiling past a long lens.
BSHCI - HANNIBAL LECTER'S CELL - DAY-
Hannibal's hands are through the hatch and shackled. Alana is in the cell behind him, at the table, glancing through the drawings. TWO ORDERLIES stand nearby.
“Have you come to wag your finger?”
“I love a good finger-wagging.”
“Yes, you do. How is Margot?” Alana allows the remark to glance off her without a flinch, glancing at the picture of her as Botticelli's Fortitude. “Your cogs are turning, Hannibal. I can hear them clicking.” “Click, click, click, boom.”
“I don't know what you're planning with Will Graham. But you're planning something. Why wouldn't you be? You've already cracked the lid, can't resist peeling it back.” Alana says, but oh if she only knew, He would change that whole family. “Will came to me.”
“Yes, he did.”
“I advised him against it.”
“I'm sure.”
“Are you suggesting I don't have Will's best interests in mind?”
“I'm stating it as fact.”
“You've got Will dressed up in moral dignity pants, nothing's his fault.”
“I've been courteous and you've been receptive to courtesy. But these niceties are conditional. And the conditions are nonnegotiable.”
“I must behave myself.”
“I know what you're afraid of. It's not pain or solitude. It's indignity. You're like a cat that way. I'll take your books, I'll take your drawings, I'll take your toilet.” The orderlies safely out of the cell, Alana steps forward and unshackles Hannibal's wrists.
“You'll have nothing but indignity and the company of the dead.” ON HANNIBAL watching Alana walk away. As he turns back to his cell…
BAU - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - NIGHT-
JIMMY PRICE, BRIAN ZELLER, Y/N and Will surround the shoebox. Zeller lifts the lid revealing a DEAD CAT wrapped in a towel, a dead flower between its paws. “Found it behind the Jacobis' garage. Flower between its paws, wrapped in a dish towel, strangled.”
“The sonofabitch.”
“You're more upset by the cat than the children.”
“I am particularly fond of cats, and not particularly fond of children.” Jimmy glares at zeller, I snort. Will smiles at me and then asks, “What about the Leeds' dog?” Zeller nods and looks at the chart. “It had a puncture wound in its abdomen. Vet operated and the dog's all right. He thought it was shot at first, but they didn't find a bullet. Thinks it was stabbed with an ice pick or an awl.”
“The sonofabitch.”
“He feels compelled to hurt the victims' pets before he comes to Kill the family” Will points out. “Eliminates an early-warning system. He's not just getting off a bus. He's got a plan. He stays in town overnight. He knows where he's going a day or two ahead. He's got some kind of idea. Case the place, kill the pet, then the family.” I say crossing my arms. Its strange being my Husband’s boss.
“If the killer read a warning in the newspapers, he would probably change his method of casing a house. We should send a private bulletin to veterinarians and animal shelters, asking for immediate reports on animal mutilations.” Will looks to me, I nod at my husband. “Buffalo and Chicago are four states apart. And nothing has been found to link these two families.”
“They were both happy.”
JACOBI HOUSE - BACKYARD - DAY-
Will stands in the backyard. Looking for something, but not sure what, following an instinct. Hannibal's words playing on his mind. Will notes the door to the garage, deadbolted, heavy and secure. He turns and looks down the private backyard. Something nagging at his mind.
He slowly walks toward the trees. Climbs over the wire fence, into the trees beyond. Steps back among them. Watching the ground carefully. He sees – An APPLE CORE gnawed to the core. Withered. Amid a denser stand of brush.
He steps carefully around it, pushes branches back to reveal a hollow in the brush: like a hunting blind. In there is a rotted log lying on one side. He pushes his way into the hunting blind and bags the partially frozen, rotting apple. He sits on the log and looks though the foliage at the Jacobi house. Will sees the nub of a branch has been cleanly cut away to better reveal a view of the Jacobi house.
Sitting where the killer sat, Will sees a patch of bark on a tree trunk where bark has been shaved away, size of a playing card. Centered in it: A CRYPTIC CARVED SYMBOL (mah-jongg symbol of the Red Dragon) A rectangle with a vertical line through the middle. Done carefully with a sharp knife.
“I sat here. And I watched them…” Movement catches his eye, a FLASH OF COLOR, and he sees: FREDDIE LOUNDS. Will, carrying the apple core in an evidence bag, intercepts Freddie. He meets her at the wire fence. “Now are you just keeping America clean or is that evidence?”
“You're trespassing, Freddie.” Will glares, “I was trespassing before the blood dried. When did they call you in?”
“I'm not talking to you.”
“We're coconspirators, Will. I died for you and your cause.”
“You didn't die enough. You came into my hospital room while I was asleep. You flipped back the sheets and shot a picture of my temporary colostomy bag. You’re lucky Y/N was not there.” Will warns, “Covered your junk with a black box. A big black box. You're welcome.”
“You called us Y/N’s "murder husbands."” Will states incredulously.
“You did run off to Europe together. How does the Tooth Fairy compare to Hannibal Lecter? Haven't seen anything like this since the Massacre at Muskrat Farm. Funny thing about that massacre. Not only did Dr. Bloom survive, she got rich. Lecter's living in the lap under her care. What kind of arrangement you suppose they have?” Freddie raises her brows in amusement.
“A complicated one.”
“Couldn't be more complicated than your relationship with Hannibal. You paid him a visit? Before you lie, know that I know that you did. You and Your Wife. and you brought your child. What a Twisted little family.” She smiles.
“Good-bye, Freddie.” Will starts to walk away. She calmly starts narrating the article she's writing, to keep his attention: "Federal manhunters, stymied in their search for the Tooth Fairy, have turned to the most savage killer in captivity for help. 'It takes one to catch one,' a federal official told this reporter."
WILL GRAHAM
“"Takes one to catch one"? You referring to me or Hannibal Lecter?”
FREDDIE LOUNDS
“I'll let my readers decide. If you're smart, you'd use me. All psychopaths are narcissists. They love to read about themselves.”
GATEWAY - BREAK ROOM - DAY-
Dolarhyde sits alone, reading the issue of TattleCrime. Titled: "INSANE FIEND CONSULTED IN MASS MURDERS BY AGENT HE TRIED TO KILL." There are two pictures above the sidebar. One shows Hannibal Lecter pinned against the side of a state trooper's car at the time of his arrest.
The other is the picture of Will Graham and Dr. Y/N Graham-L/N, taken by Freddie Lounds outside the BSHCI. A small photograph of Freddie Lounds runs beside her byline.
FISHING CABIN - BEDROOM - NIGHT(MARE)-
Will wakes and turns, seeing the other pillow silhouetted andY/N lying beside him, bitten and torn, mirrored eyes and blood over her temples and ears.
Like Mrs. Jacobi, Y/N lies in blood-soaked sheets pooling around her to create the billowing shapes of angel wings and flowing robes that were painted gold in Blake's The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed with the Sun, the mirrors in her eyes and mouth reflecting a FANTASTIC GLOW.
Will naked, standing over Y/N, taking the position of the Red Dragon in the Blake illustration, covered in blood. Blood-soaked sheets give him great wings.
HOTEL - THE GRAHAM'S ROOM - NIGHT-
A soaked Will Graham bolts awake, startled by the wetness, throwing back the sheets which appear to be blood-soaked until he turns on the lamp next to the bed, revealing… ...the sheets are only damp with perspiration. Y/N groaning softly in her sleep. The Leeds' dog stares back at him inscrutably from the couch.
Will rises from the bed, his heart pounding, peeling off his damp T-shirt as he crosses into:
HOTEL - THE GRAHAM'S BATHROOM - NIGHT-
He throws the wet T-shirt into the bathtub and grabs a towel, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His face appears broken, but the glass is smooth, and we reveal it is Will's face that is FRACTURED and CRACKED. A blink and Will's face is normal, nothing cracked but his mind.
HOTEL - THE GRAHAM’S ROOM - NIGHT-
Will puts the dry towel on the side of the bed where he had sweated and lies down on it, propped against the headboard, with a stiff drink of whiskey in his hand. He swallows a third of it. And then the Leeds' dog hops down from the couch and up into the bed, curling up beside Will and Y/N and lying down. Will pets the dog as he throws back the rest of his booze. Wrapping his arm around his wife.
TWISTED MINDS: Act III- Chapter Thirty-Four The Great Red Dragon
TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Implied Death, Death, Mentions of Cannibalism, Guns, Mental Heath
Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.
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Twisted Minds Masterlist
THREE YEARS LATER
HANNIBAL LECTER'S OFFICE - DAY-
Hannibal sits behind his desk, across from ALANA BLOOM, the gorgeous white truffle between them. There's a playful yet slightly-challenging tone. “How I found you in Florence.”
“Betrayed by good taste. Is good taste itching at you in your daily rounds of institutional life?”
“An itch easy enough to scratch…” Alana takes a sip from her own glass of wine. “...when there's cause to celebrate. Congratulations, Hannibal. You're officially insane.”
“There's no consensus in the psychiatric community what I should be termed.”
“You've long been regarded by your peers in psychiatry as something entirely Other. For convenience, they term you a monster.” Alana snickers, Hannibal piqued with Curiosity. “What do you term me?”
“I don't. You defy categorization.” She takes another sip and makes a small "yummy" sound. “Do you still prefer beer to wine?”
“Stopped drinking beer when I found out what you were putting in mine.” She looks directly inhis eyes, finally seeing all of him. “Who.”
“Who.” At that, Alana SLOWLY TRANSFORMS from reality into art: A CHARCOAL OF BOTTICELLI'S FORTITUDE WITH ALANA'S FACE The drawing speaks: “This means you'll be spared the federal death sentence.” this drawing to reveal it is inside Hannibal's cell. Hannibal is now in BSHCI-issue garb.
BSHCI - HANNIBAL LECTER'S CELL - DAY-
Hannibal sits before the glass of his cage, facing Alana on the other side. His cell is a white canvas on which he can project his memory palace. A small scattering of books and drawings and articles that intrigue him, but minimal. On his table, a newspaper. Headline: "FAMILY SLAUGHTERED IN BUFFALO." We note it, but don't linger. “They had enough to convict you a dozen times over.”
“A baker's dozen. Lest we forget Mason Verger. You're welcome.” He smirks, amused. “You're welcome, Hannibal. The needle was guaranteed. But you beat it all on an insanity plea.” Alana says, she is amused with herself, having caged the creature. “I'm not insane.”
“You know that and I know that. A dozen or a baker's dozen, enough people have died.”
“You haven't.”
“A promise in waiting, isn't it? A promise you intend to keep.”
“I always keep my promises.”
MOOSEHEAD LAKE, ME - FISHING CABIN - DAY-
An achingly-beautiful view -- pine-forested hills surrounding a frozen lake beneath a vast blue sky softly painted with clouds. DOGS run among the trees, kicking up the snow. Down the
slope, a rustic fishing cabin sits overlooking the lake.
WILL GRAHAM, bundled against the cold, but enjoying the air on his face as he repairs a fence.
And then his face falls a little. He stands. A black SUV is coming down the track. He watches it, face inscrutable.
FISHING CABIN - VERANDA - DAY-
A mug of hot cider is set large in the foreground, steam rising from it in ghostly ribbons. Reveal it has been placed before Jack Crawford by Will Graham. The two men sit on the veranda overlooking the lake. Several stray dogs lie and mill at their feet. Will's posture is relaxed. He's unshaven. Jack is wearing a more formal overcoat, here on business. “Don't want to talk inside? Don't want to let me inside. Come too far to let the cold stop me, Will.”
“Why should the cold do something common sense couldn't?”
“You don't want to talk about it here.”
“I don't want to talk about it anywhere. You've got to talk about it, so let's have it. Just don't get out any pictures. Y/N and Brianna will be back soon.” He glances down to the shore.
“How much do you know?”
“Two families killed, in their homes, a month apart. Similar Circumstances. Y/N told me.”
“Not "similar." The same. You ever think about giving me a call?”
“No.”
“You know what it is.”
“I didn't call you because I didn't want to. I don't think I'd be all that useful to you, Jack. I never think about it anymore. I don't believe I could do it now.” Will looks down the lakeshore to where his Now wife Y/N and their 3 year old are walking toward them. Jack pulls two photos from his jacket pocket and flips them face up onto the table. Snapshots. Two happy families.
“All dead.” Will stares at them and then back down the lakeshore at his family closer now, laughing together. A good-looking, vibrant woman and a cute kid in winter clothes.
“This freak seems to be in phase with the moon. Killed the Jacobis in Chicago almost four weeks ago. Full moon. Killed the Leeds family in Buffalo night before last. One day short of a lunar month. If we're lucky, we have a little over three weeks before he does it again.” And then Y/N and Brianna are coming toward them, a little out of breath, chilly, their noses red. The dogs milling to greet them.
FISHING CABIN - WOODPILE - NIGHT-
Will chops wood as Y/N picks up the pieces. “Jack stopped by to see me at the shop before he came out here. He asked directions to the house.”
“He said he got lost.”
“Good. That was the idea. I tried to tell him you dont want to be apart of it anymore.”
“What else did he ask you?”
“He asked how you are. I said you're fine. Said, if you missed your other life, you'd talk about it. You never do. You're happy and we’re safe. And i’m more than capable enough to handle this case. Its my Unit and i should be mad at jack for involving you when i said no.” Will considers that and her, smiles. “Are you going to help him?”
“Helping Jack is bad for me.” Will as he splits another log… “I agree, i told him we didnt need you to consult.” A CRACKLING FIRE It burns in the hearth. We are –
FISHING CABIN - DINING ROOM - NIGHT-
The dogs wander up to Jack and flop to the ground around him and the modest dining table at which he's seated along with Will and Y/N. Cluttered and comfortable. The remains of a fine fish dinner sit on the table. There is a nearly-empty bottle of red wine. “Those are probably dogs. People dump small ones here all the time. We can give away the cute ones, rest stay around and get to be big ones.”
“We’re a sucker for strays.”
“You're not fooling anybody.” I smile at my husband, squeezing his hand tightly. “Got a nice life here.”
“I'm lucky here. I know that.” Brianna is reading a book on the floor by her fathers seat. “How old is she?” Brianna Perks up, “I’m three!” She holds up three fingers and goes back to reading. “And she’s already reading?” Will smiles at his Daughter.
“She’s very intelligent. Come on Bri lets go take the dogs out.” Will leaves the table and Brianna follos her dad happily. Will starts in corralling the dogs out the front door, leaving Y/N alone with Jack.
“Whatever he says he wants to do, you'll take him anyway, won't you? You’ll take both of us.” But we’re not his to take. “I have to. I'll make it as easy on him as I can. He's changed. It's great you got married.”
“Jack…we have so many on the case already- and we have Brianna now-” I say, technically i have the power to say no. it would be my final decision. “I know what I'm asking. And I wished to God I didn't have to. But you know as well as i that we need the help.” Jack quietly produces the pictures he showed Will -- the families, alive and happy. He slides them across the table.
FISHING CABIN - BEDROOM - NIGHT-
Y/N sits up in bed as Will pulls off his boots. She rests on his shoulders and he leans into her. She kisses his neck. “How bad is it gonna be if you stay here and read about the next one? If We stay here and there's more killing, maybe it'd sour this place for you. High Noon and all that.”
“Do you want me to go?”
“I'd have the satisfaction that we did the right thing. He kills families. We dont know how he chooses them and as much as i’m working my ass off on this case i do admit we need help. My team can only do so much.” I admit softly. I want him home, i dont want him to come. But it was inevitible that he would.
“Don't say that. If I go... I'll be different when I get back.” i cradle his face in one of my hands. “We won't. We will be as we always have been.” As Will kisses Me tenderly...
FISHING CABIN - DINING ROOM - NIGHT-
Will stares at the fireplace and then the letter in his hand. He tears it open and pulls a second envelope from within, the salutation written in charcoal.
Will considers it and then rips it open. He opens the folded paper and a CLIPPING falls to the ground. He traps it with one foot. Will regards the letter and its handwriting: recognizably Hannibal's.
"Dear Will, we have all found a new life, but our old lives hover in the shadows, like incipient madness. Soon enough, I fear Jack Crawford will come knocking. I would encourage you, as a friend, not to step back through the door he holds Open. Let Y/N handle this. It's dark on the other side and madness is waiting..."
Will ponders this note for a moment and then bends and picks up the clipping: the newspaper article about the Tooth Fairy killings. He tosses it into the fire, along with the note from Hannibal, and watches them both burn.
BUFFALO, NY - LEEDS HOUSE - BACKYARD - NIGHT-
Will approaches the sliding-glass door from the backyard, trees crowding over the high back fence behind him. He notices an empty doghouse tucked away from the house. Will tucks his flashlight under his chin and scribbles on a pad from his pocket: "Y/N - where is the dog?" Will pulls a POLICE SEAL off the door and steps inside, into:
LEEDS HOUSE - KITCHEN - NIGHT-
Quiet. The only lights are blue pilot lights on the stove. Will is silent and still, just feeling the house.
He crosses to the refrigerator and opens the door, bathing the room in pale light. Among the family-friendly array of healthy foods and bottles of milk is a peeled MINI CHEESE WHEEL with a jagged bite taken out of it. Then -- the thermostat CLICKS and the heat comes on. Will flinches. He shuts the refrigerator door and turns on his flashlight, illuminating the empty room.
WILL'S FACE lit from below in the backwash of his flashlight beam, in fluid SLOW MOTION as he ascends the staircase toward the upstairs hallway...
LEEDS HOUSE - BOYS' BEDROOM - NIGHT-
PANNING to see a dark bedroom in disarray. Two beds empty, the sheets flung aside on the floor. RED STRINGS, representing blood spatter, stretch out from origin points, one in each bed (one on a boy's pillow, one on the floor near his bed), to the headboards, walls and floor, like strange spiny flowers.
THE FLASHLIGHT BEAM As it passes over the strings and their origin points, the small balls on sticks become the DEAD LEEDS CHILDREN, but only within the core of the flashlight beam, like a wormhole through time, lying as they were found and photographed.
A SMASHED MIRROR In the upstairs hallway, its shards shining brilliantly as Will plays the flashlight over them -- we just glimpse Will's face, fragmented in the shards, behind the flashlight's piercing reflection. His eyes blink out of sync.
Follow the flashlight beam down the hall toward an ominouslyopen door at the end... On the outer edges of the flashlight beam, we can make out BLOODSTAINS and DRAG MARKS on the floor. A few RED STRINGS extending out from the bloodstains.
THE FLASHLIGHT BEAM As with the dead boys, the small balls on sticks projecting strings of red become DEAD CHARLES LEEDS lying as he was found and photographed by the police. Finally, Will reaches that open door and enters the...
LEEDS HOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT-
Darkness. Shapes of furniture. Glints of mirror shards. Ominous dark designs on the walls.
Will's face again. Steely. Finally, he flicks on the light, the switch smeared with blood and strands of Mr. Leeds's hair. RED STRINGS extend from multiple origin points (one stationary on the bed, one that rose from the bed and staggered away), turning the bedroom into a nightmarish, phantasmagoric forest of red tendrils. Because there is –
LEEDS HOUSE - BACKYARD - NIGHT-
Will steps back and looks at the house, closes his eyes. FWUM. The PENDULUM clicks into place.
WILL -- now in full FWUM mode, about to reenact the crime from the killer's POV. A focused intensity to his movements. Will licks a SUCTION CUP and, with latex-gloved hands, sticks it to the glass.
A GLASS CUTTER Traces a circle on the clean glass -- then punches the circle loose. Will reaches through the hole and unlocks the door. his smooth, purposeful glide through the kitchen, up the stairs, to the –
LEEDS HOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT-
Will strides in, his body language that of an entirelydifferent person -- large, aggressive.
He slashes Mr. Leeds's throat. BLOOD GOUTS. As the man rises, groping blindly and gushing blood:
“I cut Mr. Leeds's throat as he lay asleep beside his wife.” Will flicks the light switch, leaving a smear of blood. Mrs. Leeds wakes and Will shoots her in the abdomen with a silenced pistol, the MUZZLE FLASH illuminating Will's face.
“I shoot Mrs. Leeds. The bullet enters to the right of her navel and lodges in her lumbar spine. But she will die of strangulation.” Mr. Leeds is moving toward Will, losing great gouts of blood.
“Mr. Leeds rises, with his throat cut, and tries to protect the children.” Will shoves Mr. Leeds aside and he stumbles toward the hall. Will watches as Mrs. Leeds falls back in shock and pain. He turns methodically and walks out into the --
LEEDS HOUSE - UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - NIGHT-
Will moves into the boys' bedroom. Two more MUZZLE FLASHES wash across his emotionless features. “I shoot one of the two boys in bed. The other boy I drag out from under his bed and shoot him on the floor.”
Mr. Leeds staggers from the master bedroom, covered in blood, but collapses before he can reach Will, who doesn't react. “All of them are dead, except possibly Mrs. Leeds. The smashing of mirrors begins.”
Will smashes the hallway mirror. Sees himself in the shards. QUICK SHOTS -- MIRRORS BEING SMASHED: Bathroom mirrors, closet mirrors, vanity mirrors...the shard of glass is lodged over one of Mrs. Leeds's eyes. Mrs. Leeds's eyes and mouth have mirror shards wedged across and in, respectively. We are --
LEEDS HOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - NIGHT-
Will stands above Mrs. Leeds lying on her golden sheets. Something is wrong. He glances at the walls behind him.
Will Graham, in the bedroom, looking at all the bloodstains on one wall. A pattern among the mad spatters near the floor. “I moved the family after they were dead and then put them back the way they were when I killed them.” There are three tracks of bloodstains, smeared from the hallway to the wall where three bloodstains have soaked: a higher-source stain flanked by two lower patches.
Now Will stands in the same position he was in before, looking at the wall. But this time, MR. LEEDS FLANKED BY THE TWO BOYS The mirrors in their eyes glimmer while the rest of their bodies fall into darkness, almost disappearing entirely. They are all propped against the wall.
“I wanted them to watch.” He turns to the bed where Mrs. Leeds still writhes. “Talcum powder on the body... but there was none in the house…” the glove is snapped off... leaving his hand naked in the cool air. He stands in front of the bed, bathed in a warm light.
“I have to touch her…”
Her eyes and mouth glow with GOLDEN LIGHT emanating from her eyes, mouth and crotch chakra, reflecting off the golden sheets of the Leeds' bed. As he reaches out to touch the Woman Clothed in Sun, behind him, RED STRINGS fan into the air, creating his wings.
“This is my design.”
BAU - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - DAY-
Zeller and Price flank the illustration of the fingerprint on the wall behind them. They are staring quizzically at… “It's a partial. Probably a thumb.” Y/N and Will Stand in front of Zeller and Price who are mildly distracted by Will's presence. “Jimmy, you're the light of my life.” I smile, i take a look at the print.
“I know. The print's smudged. Came off Mrs. Leeds's eye. Never did that before. Never would've seen it, but it stood out against an eight-ball hemorrhage.” He can't help stealing glances at Will, finally: “I just... I can't believe you're back. I'm surprised you're back.”
“Welcome back.”
“It's good to see you.”
“Jimmy.” I warn. Price focuses back on the task, blows up scans on a screen. “The mirror pieces all had those smooth prints. Forefinger on the back of the piece wedged in the labia, smudged thumb on the front.”
“He polished it after he placed it, so he could see his face in there.” Will thinks, a hand cradling his jaw. “One in her mouth was obscured with blood. Same with the eyes. Ran an AFIS. He's not in the print index.”
“We could always do a Have-You-SeenThese-Teeth sort of APB.” Zeller wheels a trolley to them. On its surface is a Lucite stand displaying a set of teeth molded in resin, with a hinge. “They're distinctive.” They look at the mold -- a replica of Dolarhyde's dentures.
“Pegged lateral incisors. Here and here. The teeth are all crooked, a corner is missing from this central incisor. The other incisor is grooved, here. It looks like a "tailor's notch," the kind of wear you get biting thread.” Zeller points out. “Snaggletooth son of a Bitch.”
“He bites a lot. Six bad ones in Mrs. Leeds. Eight in Mrs. Jacobi.”
“He may have a history of biting in lesser assaults. May be a fighting pattern as much as sexual behavior.” Will leans against a nearby empty table. I look up at my husband, “What's he fighting, Will?” I ask softly as i adjust myself.
BAU - DR. Y/N GRAHAM-L/N'S OFFICE - DAY-
I look up from My desk to see Will standing before me. “You were asking about the dog. Last night, a vet called the police. Leeds and his oldest brought it into the vet the afternoon before they were killed.” I say softly. “What's going to happen to it?” Will asks me.
“Please don't worry about the dog, Will.” I sigh. I set my pen down and close the file i was looking over. “What do you expect me to do Care?”
“Best we can Honey. For Bri.” I stand and walk over to him. “There's something else I can do. I can wait until I'm driven to it by desperation in the last days before the full moon. Or I could do it now, while it might be of some use.”
“Is there an opinion you want, Will? I’m not Jack. I might’ve taken the mantle of his job but im not him. I want you home with me and Bri as much as you do.” I cup his face in my Hands. “A mindset we need to recover. We have to see Hannibal.”
BSHCI - CORRIDOR - DAY-
Will moves down the corridors of the BSHCI, Side by Side with his wife who is holding their toddler, behind an ORDERLY, hating being there. The hall begins to darken as Will walks, until we are now --
BSHCI - HANNIBAL LECTER'S CELL - DAY-
Hannibal stands on the other side of the glass, in his cell, facing Will and his Family. His surroundings are a converted space in the asylum. The windows and fireplace have been cemented over and the furnishings are minimal, but it's very comfortable.
“Hello, Dr. Lecter.”
“Hello, Will.”
TWISTED MINDS: Act III- Chapter Thirty-Three Digestivo
TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Implied Death, Death, Cannibalism, Guns, Mental Heath, Pregnancy, Forced Cesarean, Kidnapping, Stillborn birth
Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.
Taglist: @punkin-time @miaowkitty @gabriella-aesthetic @urlocalfanficwriter @dilfdemolisher
Twisted Minds Masterlist
MEAT TRUCK - DAY-
Twin rows of GUTTED PIG CARCASSES hang in plastic wrapping from a rail in the roof of the darkened space. The TICK and HUM of refrigeration can be heard in the metal box.
A sudden CLANG as the door is opened and a gust of frosted air is expelled into the dark space beyond -- unclear behind the beams of a powerful light. A WHIRRING noise can be heard.
Will is actually HANGING UPSIDE DOWN like the carcasses, Hannibal alongside him, similarly trussed. The WHIRRING continues and the carcasses swing sideways as a silhouetted shape moves through them to reveal – MASON VERGER In his electric wheelchair, looking at them both with great satisfaction.
Cordell behind him. A beatific smile. “Gentlemen, welcome to Muskrat Farm.”
“Your people might have assassinated me in Florence, Mason.”
“Where's the fun in that?”
“I see the first coarse bristles of revenge have brushed the ruin of your cheek and begun to excite you. Where’s Y/N, Mason?”
“I'm very excited. She’ll be joining us… though i doubt she’ll be very comfortable.” Mason produces a KNIFE in his good hand.
“I still carry my father's knife. Ever ready to slip into a pig's back to check the depth of fat.”
Mason slides close to Hannibal and presses the blade against the flesh of his lower back. Hannibal does not flinch. Mason puts his thumb against the blade and slides it into Hannibal. A thin TRICKLE of blood is released. Hannibal shows no sign. Disappointed, Mason slides the blade further. “A little on the lean side. Let's fatten you up, shall we?”
MUSKRAT FARM - PIG BARN - DAY-
The meat truck has been backed through the doors into the narrow end of a funnel made by two angled rows of STEEL PIGPENS. PIGS snort nervously in the pens, clanging the bars. Mason Verger, in his wheelchair, and Cordell watch as Inspector Benetti leads bodyguards bringing Hannibal and Will from the truck, bound securely to a pair of handcarts. Will's head is cleaned up and bandaged. But he is still groggy and in pain.
“It is more trouble physically to move a semi-wild pig against its will than to kidnap a man.”
“Pigs are harder to get hold of, and big ones are stronger than a man.” As Hannibal and Will are wheeled past, Mason speaks up for their benefit and his amusement: “There are the tusks to consider, if you want to maintain the integrity of your abdomen. Something worth maintaining, Mr. Graham? Tusked beasts instinctively disembowel.”
Will's and Hannibal's handcarts are shackled to the walls. Mason wheels closer to Hannibal, cocking his head up. “At swine fairs, I've seen exotic pigs from all over the world. For my new purpose, you are the best of all that I've seen. We will have some good, funny times, Dr. Lecter.”
As Mason wheels away, leaving Will and Hannibal Wondering…Where is Y/N?
VERGER ESTATE HOUSE - DINING ROOM - NIGHT-
Hannibal is wheeled up to the table and his upright dolly automatically folds into a seated wheelchair at one end of the table. Hannibal is sitting secured in his seat with one arm free.
Hannibal is resplendent in suit and tie. Looking very much his old self sitting opposite Mason Verger at the other end. “I snatched Will Graham right out of your mouth. You must be famished.” A BEAUTIFUL TRAY OF OYSTERS Cordell has just placed them onto the table. Hannibal glances at the mollusks before looking back up at Mason.
“There is an inescapable parallel between you and Jezebel, Mason. Keen Bible student that you are, you'll recall dogs ate Jezebel's face, along with the rest of her.” Hannibal slides an oyster into his mouth with his free hand.
“If Jezebel was right with the Risen Jesus, if she praised His name, the Riz would have provided her a new face. As He has provided mine.” Will sitting between Mason and Hannibal, bright new head bandage. Y/N glaring sinisterly at Mason. Mason glances at Will: “The transplant surgery is extremely skillful, which is why Cordell here will be performing the face-off.”
“Hello.”
“You boys remind me of that German cannibal who advertised for a friend, then ate the friend's penis with him before he died. Tragedy being, the penis was overcooked. Go to all that trouble to eat a friend, and you overcook his penis. They ate it anyway. They had to, they committed. But they didn't enjoy it. I'm committed to enjoying every bite of you.” Will looks to Mason: “You're gonna eat him with my face?”
“Yes. I got a taste for it after the two of you had me eat my nose.”
“You must be terribly proud that you could pull this off, Mason.” I say as I groan in pain. “An accomplishment comparable to the discovery of radium. I imagine you, the product of all my searching and expenditure, glowing in the dark like the vial in Madame Curie's laboratory. I imagine after eating you, my belly will glow like a lightbulb.”
“It's dangerous to get exactly what you want, Mason. What will you do after you've eaten me?” Will glares, “You could wreck some foster homes and torment some children…”
“Drink martinis made with tears. And that little fetus in your Belly Dr. L/N, Well I have promised my sister a baby and- I don't like breaking promises.” Mason looks towards me, My heart drops. No. He wont touch her. I wont let him. I look over at Will, tears of rage fill my eyes. As another contraction rolls through my body. Will has a very dark and sinister look on his face.
“But where, Mason, would the hardcore fun come from?”
“Foolish to dilute this ecstatic time with fears about the future. Cordell, Mr. Graham is looking very dry. A little moisturizer, please.” Mason taps his own cheek, indicating where to apply the moisturizer on Will, as he resumes the conversation.
“I'm curious, what will be the first cuts of me you'll serve?” Hannibal asks As Cordell is preparing the moisturizer, “The first course, of course, will be your hands and feet. Sizzling on a Promethean barbecue. The coal is white and very hard, makes a clear ringing sound when struck.”
“You've thought of everything.”
“After that, we'll have a pajama party, you and I. You can wear shorties by then. Cordell's going to keep you alive for a long time.” As Cordell leans in to apply Will's moisturizer, Will's head jerks up, fast, and he LOCKS HIS TEETH into Cordell's cheek.
Cordell growls, pushing a bloody-mawed Will off of him. Will spits a ragged piece of skin onto Mason's empty plate, where it leaves a RED SMEAR and lies like an insult. Cordell clutches a bloody cheek. Hannibal holds Will's gaze, amused. I look at him, if i wasnt in so much pain I’d Kill….
“No pajama party for you, Mr. Graham. We'll be feeding you to the pigs as soon as Cordell removes your face. In a much more civilized fashion than you just tried to remove his.”
VERGER ESTATE HOUSE - MASON'S BEDROOM - NIGHT-
Margot Verger is helping Mason out of bed, where he's been changed into medical pajamas, and into his wheelchair. “When I impulsively lash out, on the whole, I don't lash out randomly. I throw a very specific sort of fit.”
“You're nothing if not specific.” Mason stares at the eel swimming in the floor below his twisted feet propped in the stirrups of his wheelchair.
“I think I might feed the eel some delicacy from Lecter; his genitals, perhaps. Then when I watch it circling in a figure eight, I'll know the infinity sign it makes stands for "Lecter dead forever." How long have you and Dr. Bloom been an item?” The question gives Margot pause, but she doesn't want to betray any vulnerability to her brother. “Not long.”
“Longer than that, Cordell says. Does Dr. Bloom want children? I'm sure you've checked under the hood by now. How's the uterus? Intact? Are the hips childbearing? Roomy?”
“Land the plane, Mason.” Margot stops helping and Mason just lies there, helpless. “You have a big surprise coming to you, Margot. Do you like spoilers? I just love 'em. They don't spoil a thing for me. Would it spoil anything for you if I told you I already found us a surrogate? Not for my sperm, but for your eggs.”
“I don't have any. You took them.”
“I most certainly did, but I didn't humpty-dumpty them. I just went and found them a new basket.” Margot stares, afraid to believe him, wanting to believe him. “I told you I wanted to give you a Verger baby, our own baby. Yours and mine. But mostly yours.” Margot's voice goes cold, not to give her brother any leverage. “Where's the surrogate, Mason?”
“She's resting at the moment. Though if she fails I have a much more immediate solution.”
“She's here?” “She's on the farm.”
“I want to see her.”
First you need to prepare yourself... psychologically. This is going to be a very emotional experience for you. I have to think about the appropriate timing.”
“Don't think too long, smiley.”
“That's the spirit, Margot. Your maternal instinct is revving up.”
VERGER ESTATE HOUSE - DINING ROOM - NIGHT-
Will Graham sits alone at the table, blood still smeared across his lips and chin. A moment, then Alana Bloom enters. Will glances up and reacts, not expecting her. His initial fear for her safety melts into something more like suspicion. “What are you doing here?”
“I'm Mason Verger's psychiatrist.” A small scoff from Will, nothing but breath. “That part of his therapy or yours?”
“I think we're all working through some issues. I'm putting an emphasis on self-preservation. Jack's alive.”
“Good for Jack. You helped Mason Verger find us.”
“I helped Mason find Hannibal. We followed Bâtard-Montrachet when we should have just followed you.”
“Almost as ugly as what Mason wants to do to us is the fact that he can do it with the tacit agreement of people sworn to uphold the law. He's planning on ripping my Daughter out of Y/N’s Womb.” Will says darkly, oh how he wished he could be with his Y/N. “It's the way of the world.”
“I never knew the world to be that way within the reach of your arm. For the first time in my life I’m Terrified.”
“I was trying to get to Hannibal before you. I knew you couldn't stop yourself. So I had to try.”
“By facilitating torture and death.”
“I can abide the thought of Hannibal tortured, not necessarily to death. I'd say he has it coming, wouldn't you? Or maybe you wouldn't. By the time the FBI gets a warrant, you and any evidence of what happened would be burnt or roiling in the bowels of Mason's pigs.”
“Or Mason himself. What did you think would happen?”
“I thought Jack Crawford and the FBI would come to the rescue. But the Finer details of what I thought would happen have evolved.”
“Then you have to evolve, Alana. You have to spill blood. By your own hand or someone else's.” Cordell enters, approaching Will in his wheelchair. “We're ready for you, Mr. Graham. You’re Fiancee is already sedated and prepped. Please keep your teeth to yourself.” Alana watching Cordell wheel Will away...
MUSKRAT FARM - PIG BARN - NIGHT-
past one pig in a cage after another, until finding Hannibal bound in his own pigpen, the brand burn stands raw and livid on his back, his arms and legs bound in the cage. He glances over his shoulder at an ITALIAN COP near the door, a tranquilizer gun on the table beside him. Margot enters.
“Buonasera, signor.”
“Buonasera, Signorina Verger.” Margot takes a breath and approaches Hannibal in his pen. “Thank you for coming, Margot. Hasn't been that long since I treated you. Have you started taking the chocolate, as Mason likes to say, after you fought him for so long?”
“Are we in therapy now?”
“You tell me.”
“Mason promised to give something back to me. Something he stole. There was a surrogate all along. It's a Verger baby. My baby.”
“You think Mason will just give you what he promised?”
“It's here. On the farm.”
“He’s about to tear a newborn away from a mother who never consented. I can imagine lots of ways to be a Verger baby that are unpleasant. I'm sure your brother can, too. Especially for a baby thats not a Verger.” Margot's eyes brim with tears as her face goes still. She knows Hannibal is telling the truth. “Listen to me, Margot. Mason will deny you. He will always deny you. You know you'll have to kill him.”
“Are you saying you'd do it for me? I could never trust you.”
“No, of course not. But you could trust me never to deny that I did it. It would actually be more therapeutic for you to kill him yourself, Margot. You'll remember I recommended that in session.”
“Wait until I can get away with it, you said.”
“What difference would one more murder charge make to me? I'm the only other suspect you've got. You can do it when it suits you, and I'll write a letter gloating about how I enjoyed killing him myself.” As Margot considers his offer… Sitting by the door. Alana enters carrying a smart handbag. She approaches, smiling.
“Buonasera.” He stands to greet her, she places her handbag on the table and, in one movement, picks up the tranquilizer gun and shoots the Italian cop in the throat, and he drops. Margot stares, dumbstruck.
“He has a pocketknife.” Alana retrieves the pocketknife from the unconscious Italian cop and crosses to Hannibal in his pigpen.
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Yes. I thought I could save Will and Y/N from you, but right now, you're the only one who can save Them. Promise me you'll save them. Please.”
“I promise, Alana. And I always keep my promises. Just cut the ropes on one arm, give me the knife and leave. I can do the rest.” Alana gets uncomfortably close to Hannibal, their faces very close to each other. Alana puts the blade on the rope. “Are you going to kill Mason?”
“Margot is. Snatch some of my hair, back from the hairline, if you don't mind; get some skin. Put it in Mason's hand after he's dead.” They are close enough to kiss. Alana looks into his eyes.
“Could I have ever understood you?”
“No.” Her hand slides into his hair -- and then pulls his head VICIOUSLY to one side. as hair tears from Hannibal's scalp. In the same moment, Alana slashes a knife at the cable ties used to bind him. He rises out of the pigpen -- the Kraken awoken.
VERGER ESTATE HOUSE - CORRIDOR - NIGHT-
OPERA plays. CAMERA follows the blood spray back to its source – A BODYGUARD falling backward, his throat cut. the glint of a blood-flecked BLADE wielded by – Hannibal Who is already moving on to the second of THREE BODYGUARDS he has ambushed. He wears the clothes of the man Alana shot with the tranquilizer gun. Second bodyguard is drawing a HANDGUN from beneath his jacket. ON HIS FACE as he realizes he is too slow.
Hannibal smashes the CLAW HAMMER in his other hand into the second bodyguard's chest. He coughs blood. The gun falls from his hand as Hannibal slams him against the wall and then ducks to the ground as --
BLAM, BLAM, BLAM. The third bodyguard fires. Bullets stitch holes in the wall. Hannibal pulls his hammer from the second bodyguard with a SUCKING SQUELCH. BLAM, BLAM. Hannibal rolls under the line of fire and slams the third bodyguard THROUGH THE FOOT with the hammer.
Third bodyguard SCREAMS and tries to bring his gun to bear on Hannibal, now right below him, but Hannibal holds his wrist. A moment, and then Hannibal rips a KNIFE across the third bodyguard's abdomen. Third bodyguard sways before Hannibal – dead, just doesn’t know it yet -- as Hannibal stands up.
Hannibal reacts as doors SLAM and TWO MORE BODYGUARDS come charging into the corridor, guns drawn. Lightning fast, Hannibal hurls the bloody hammer. THE HAMMER as it spins in the air, blood trailing from it, and then -- THUNK -- it strikes one of the new arrivals, spinning him to one side. Hannibal then spins the third bodyguard and drives toward them.
BLAM, BLAM, BLAM. Bullets drive into the third bodyguard, Hannibal hidden behind him. Third bodyguard rag-dolls in Hannibal’s arms as the bullets explode into his torso. fourth bodyguard's fear as Hannibal meets them in the center of the corridor and slams third bodyguard’s face right into his.
Fourth bodyguard flies backward, nose SPRAYING BLOOD, and tangles with the fifth bodyguard. the knife in Hannibal’s hand, as it FLASHES amid the fourth and fifth bodyguards. Blood splashes the walls.
TWO MORE BODYGUARDS -- six and seven. As they enter the corridor and pause. Guns in their hands.
The bloodbath that is the corridor -- six bloodied bodies splashed up and down the walls. GUN SMOKE hangs in the air. Blood DRIPS down the walls. Six and seven breathe deep. Tense. Guns at the ready.
They move forward... Stepping through the bodies. their shoes as they move through the carnage. Nothing moves except for the blood sliding down the walls. Six and seven move away toward the end of the corridor. And then a bloodied figure rises from the floor
VERGER ESTATE HOUSE - OPERATING ROOM - NIGHT-
He is strapped to a gurney under the bright light of an OR, his head in a surgical vice holding him absolutely still. A shadow falls across Will's face as Cordell leans over him. “Good news and bad news. The good news is, until recently, a full face transplant was almost unthinkable.” Cordell fusses around Will, checking his monitors. Whatever else, he's a perfectionist at this.
“But medical science is a fast-moving train. First, I'll lift your pretty mush right off, and then I'll expose the blood vessels and major connections of Mason's face, then lay yours straight on top.”
The full horror of that lands on Will. “You really are done, you know. That's the bad news. Although i will grant you one thing.” Cordell moves away, leaving Will strapped to the gurney.
Cordell brings over a small bundle, a baby. His baby. “You have a beautiful baby daughter Mr. Graham.” Will's eyes move to His baby girl. He struggles to move his limbs. Nothing doing. We see the first panic in Will's eyes.
MUSKRAT FARM - NIGHT-
An open doorway filled with DARKNESS. A blood-splattered Hannibal looms from within to fill it. The open fields and woodland of Muskrat Farm beyond. The huge moon hanging above and a myriad of stars. Freedom.
He could run and no one would catch him. Leave Will and be free. The thought crosses his mind. But Y/N….She didn't deserve to suffer. He takes a deep breath of night air. And then he turns back into the house, and the shadows within envelope him once more…
VERGER ESTATE HOUSE - OPERATING ROOM - NIGHT-
Will Graham turns his head slowly sideways as Mason Verger is pushed in beside Will, on a gurney, by Cordell
“Cordell told me, if I waited long enough, he could grow me a new face from my own cells, but I was adamant it was your face I wanted. I was looking at your face while you were watching me cut mine off. I thought, "That's a nice face." and Now your Baby will see the face of Her father everyday of her life.”
“You're going under now, Mr. Verger, and when you wake up, your face will be bound and uncomfortable.” Cordell adjusts Mason's dosage and Mason begins to drift off: “Have you accepted Jesus, Mr. Graham? Do you have faith? I do. I'm free. Hallelujah…” And he's out. a needle enters Will's flesh. Cordell adjusts the IV bottle it's connected to.
“This will immobilize your body, but you'll feel everything. Im first going to Finish sewing up your Fiancee and then I'm going to cut off your face without anesthesia, Mr. Graham.”
VERGER ESTATE HOUSE - BABY SUITE - NIGHT-
Alana and Margot move into a tiled room with a lot of hightech medical equipment. They both stop dead and stare. In the center of the room is a large table. On top, lying on its side, is a large, unconscious FEMALE PIG with IV lines and drips filtering into it, medical monitors BLEEPING quietly… The pig's belly is SWOLLEN by a pregnancy.
Alana and Margot move around this bizarre sight. As they do, a MONITOR mounted on the wall comes into vision – AN ULTRASOUND IMAGE in grays and blacks. It shows a human fetus, almost full term, legs tucked up… Alana and Margot stare -- stunned.
“Is he alive?” Alana reacts first, moves to check the monitors. Her face falls. “There's no fetal heartbeat.” As this lands on Margot... “Take it out... take it out.”
VERGER ESTATE HOUSE - OPERATING ROOM - NIGHT-
Mason Verger, face mask off to reveal his hideous, mutilated visage, lies back, eyes closed, awaiting his new face.
Cordell's back, to find that he is hunched over Will Graham. Fully conscious as Cordell leans over him and finishes drawing a black line in marker around the line of Will's face and jaw. He leans into Will with a SCALPEL.
“You'll be sure to let me know if this hurts, won't you?”
He starts to cut around the marker line. Blood slides from the pencil-thin incision. FEELING EVERYTHING -- teeth clenched against the pain he knows is coming… -- A SCALPEL slides through skin. -- A delicate thin flow of BLOOD. -- HANDS, in surgical gloves, gently lever skin away from facial bones, revealing teeth and jaw beneath -- a face coming away from its moorings.
We are watching two interconnected operations: a face being removed and a face being sewn onto someone else. And now we add a third procedure to the mix, this one rough and violent in comparison --
the sudden BIG INCISION of a CAESARIAN SECTION across a pig's hairy belly. TIGHT FOCUS as a LAYER OF BLOODY SKIN is laid down over Mason's raw, waiting face, smearing blood where it touches.
Hands delve deep into the pig's belly, surgical gloves slick with blood. The CLOSE-UP gleam of a suture needle as it moves under bright lights, stitching the new face to Mason. Beyond, we can just make out the bloody red mess of the donor's face.
VERGER ESTATE HOUSE - BABY SUITE - NIGHT-
Margot's desperate face as she forces herself to look at Alana holding her dead child.
“I want to hold him.”
She slowly takes the bundle Alana holds out to her as Alana wraps her arms around Margot as she sobs. MARGOT -- focus moving in and around her face. Enormity of her grief slamming into her. HER EYES as she squeezes them shut, holding her child tight.
VERGER ESTATE HOUSE - MASON'S BEDROOM - NIGHT-
Mason is propped up in his wheelchair, the eel moving its ceaseless patterns in the floor. We hear Mason's voice, weak at first: “Cordell?” Croaking, a whisper. Then louder: “Cordell? Cordell?!” His senses are going off, pain hitting him, fear and dread. Something is not right. His hand pumps at an ALARM BUTTON on the arm of his wheelchair. His good hand crab-walks up his chest, pulls the neck piece away.
the mask as it is pulled away from Mason's face, not yet revealing his surgery. He grabs the mirror and holds it up. He sees that he now IS Cordell... kind of. Cordell's face has been removed and placed over his own. As Mason stares at himself in horror, Cordell's face slides off his own, leaving smears of blood before it lands on Mason's lap. “Cordell!”
Mason's good hand fumbles with the knob, pulling the drawer open, revealing a Walther PPK. He turns his wheelchair and rounds the bed toward the door and stops short at the aquarium when he sees Alana enter. “Hi, Mason.”
“What the hell's happening out there? Where's Cordell?”
“Cordell's dead. They're all dead out there. Hannibal got away.” Margot emerges from the shadows behind Mason. “Get on the horn to Washington and get four of those bastards with guns up here. Send the helicopter.”
“I found your surrogate, Mason.”
“Your surrogate, Margot. Told you I Would give you a Verger baby.”
“I'm taking what you promised me. I got everything I need from you now.”
“You can't kill me, Margot. You'll lose everything. In the absence of an heir, the sole beneficiary is the Southern Baptist Church."
“But we are going to have an heir, Mason. A Verger baby. Our baby. Yours and mine, but mainly yours.”
“Do you know what happens if we stimulate your prostate gland with a cattle prod? Y/N and Hannibal do. They helped us milk you. Maybe you shouldnt try and steal a mothers child.”
“You're dead, Dr. Bloom.”
“Oh, Mason. We all are. Didn't you know? But these aren't.” She holds up a vial of a pearly, cloudy fluid. Mason produces his pistol. Margot sees it and moves first. Crashing into Mason as he fires.
BLAM! The aquarium's glass top SHATTERS! Margot's momentum carries the wheelchair onto its side and she and Mason fall into the aquarium.
Margot and Mason fight. His goodarm pinning her under the water. His body is dead weight against her. her swirling hair, their SILENT SCREAMS. Alana joins Margot wrestling Mason. As the two HUMAN FACES plunge down into the water. Mason's face sending blood out like a mist.
ALANA rushes to help Margot. Grabbing at Mason. as she comes out of the water with a GREAT GASP. She holds Alana's gaze and they bear down with relentless force. Mason's hands claw at their hair. The two women hold him down.
Cordell's transplanted face undulates in the water, blood flowing from beneath it. The eel agitates within its lair. Alana's eyes lock with Margot's. SLAM -- the eel comes up and bites at the bloody wounds holding Cordell's face to Mason's... Mason SCREAMS and swallows water as the eel tears at Cordell's face.
As it comes free, the eel thrusts itself beyond, into Mason's open mouth, seeking softer meat. Cordell's bitten and torn face -- backlit -- as it slowly sinks to the bottom of the tank. still holding Mason's good hand. She reaches into a pocket and pulls out the HANK OF HANNIBAL'S HAIR. Presses it into Mason's palm…
MUSKRAT FARM - FOREST'S EDGE - NIGHT-
Of green grass in the dark. see the moon and the stars above the field. We CRANE DOWN to find Hannibal Lecter carrying a bloody and barely-conscious Will Graham over his shoulder as he walks toward the forest's edge Where Y/N and Her daughter await.
Out of the shadows behind Hannibal, two Verger bodyguards appear. Moving swiftly upon him, raising their RIFLES to fire – the two bodyguards looming on either shoulder. PFFT! PFFT! Both of their heads fly backward as a red mist EXPLODES from them and they crumple to the ground.
CHIYOH In the bough of a large tree, looking down the sights of her hunting rifle. Hannibal Lecter now fixed firmly in her sights…
GRAHAM/L/N HOUSE - DUSK -
Chiyoh stands on the porch alone, her rifle resting in the crook of her arm. After a contemplative moment, Hannibal emerges through the front door.
“Will you go home? Can you go home?”
“No more than you can.”
“We all form frameworks from our early experiences through which later perceptions are understood.”
“Perceptions are understood when you look harder. I've looked into you. I thought you should be caged.”
“Would you watch over me?”
“I will watch over you. Not in a cage. Some beasts shouldn't be caged.”
“Your obsessive and successful hunt, whose plight was it driven by? Mine? Y/N L/N’s? Will Graham's? Yours?”
“Mischa's. Did you eat her?”
“Yes, but I did not kill her.” Chiyoh breathes a sigh of relief. “One quality in a person doesn't rule out any other quality. They can exist side by side, good and terrible. Socrates said it better The best of you and the worst with steady hands and a slow heart.”
“The most stable elements, Chiyoh, appear in the middle of the periodic table, roughly between iron and silver. Between iron and silver. I think that is appropriate for you.” Chiyoh studying Hannibal, not taking her guard down.
GRAHAM/L/N HOUSE - DUSK-
Will Graham sits up in bed. His head stitched to match the neat, expert black sutures following his jawline. He glances at the chair near his bed, a writing pad on the seat. It's filled with symbols and signs of astro- and particle physics. Hannibal enters and Will hands him his writing pad. “Do we talk about teacups and time and the rules of disorder?”
“The teacup is broken. It'll never gather itself back together again.”
“Not even in your mind? Your memory palace is building. It's full of new things. It shares some rooms with my own. I've discovered you there. Victorious.”
“When it comes to you and me, there can be no decisive victory.”
“We are a zero-sum game?” Will takes that in, considering his home and the strangeness
of Hannibal Lecter standing in it now. His Fiancee and newborn daughter in the other room.
“I miss my dogs. I'm not going to miss you. I'm not going to find you. I'm not going to look for
you. I don't want to know where you are or what you do. I don't want to think about you anymore.” The cold, even flatness of Will's words strikes Hannibal. “You delight in wickedness and then berate yourself for the delight.”
“You delight. I tolerate.” A sting of rejection. “Tolerance is a fig leaf to hide your ravenous self from the world.”
“I don't have your appetite. Good-bye, Hannibal.” Hannibal stands there a moment, rejected. Will sighs and averts his eyes. Hannibal finally goes, leaving Will alone.
GRAHAM/L/N HOUSE - BEDROOM - DUSK -
Hannibal enters the room to say goodbye to Y/N. A woman who truly matched himself. He finds her sitting on her and Wills shared bed, rocking the small infant in her arms. “You’ve done well. She’s beautiful.” He approaches and sits beside her.
I rest my head on his shoulder, I admire my daughter. A creation of my own. A sense of solemness runs over me. “You’re leaving arent you?” I ask, already knowing the answer. “Will has made it clear he does not want me here any longer.”
A stray tear falls, I sniffle softly. “Right..” He pushes my hair out of my face, “Come with me.”
I look at him, “I can’t-” He nods already knowing. “I know.” He softly kisses me, its not passionate or Sexual, its a goodbye. He leans down and Kisses Brianna’s Head. “You’re a very special girl mažasis drugelis. You’re Mother and Father are very special too.” He stands and kisses my forehead and leaves.
GRAHAM/L/N HOUSE - NIGHT
FBI VEHICLES drive at speed toward the house and AGENTS jump out. They move toward the house, guns out and ready.
The front door opens and Will emerges Holding his Baby daughter. Something he thought hed never get to do, JACK CRAWFORD Steps out of the lead vehicle, on crutches. “He's gone, Jack.”
“I'm here.” He steps out of the trees, arms outstretched, almost welcoming. Agents move in, yelling commands. He kneels as the FBI agents surround him.
All eyes turn to me as I exit my house, Limping, I place the handcuffs on Hannibal. And before I pull away I whisper “Thank you.”
CHIYOH watches through her rifle scope from the distant tree line, her sights on Hannibal. Jack moves to Hannibal, Will staying on the porch, watching. “You finally caught the Chesapeake Ripper, Jack.”
“Didn't catch you, you surrendered.”
“I want you to know exactly where I am. And where you can find me.” A sly glance toward Will watching from the porch, Cradling his Daughter, Brianna.
A SEMICIRCULAR CAGE within a canopy of nylon mesh stretching outside the bars. This cell stands alone in a large space, the walls rising up high to a glass ceiling. Gantries hold armed guards. Light shines down. Hannibal's every move and action will be observed. He is under a microscope. he is looking at Alana Bloom and DR. CHILTON who regard him from outside the cage.
TWISTED MINDS: Act III- Chapter Thirty-Two Dolce
TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Implied Death, Death, Cannibalism, Guns, Mental Heath, Pregnancy
Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.
Taglist: @punkin-time @miaowkitty @gabriella-aesthetic @urlocalfanficwriter @dilfdemolisher
Twisted Minds Masterlist
PALAZZO CAPPONI - ATROCIOUS TORTURE EXHIBIT - DAY-
Jack, Will, and Y/N move through the shattered interior of the Atrocious Torture Exhibit where Jack and Hannibal did battle. “He's wounded and worried.”
“Hannibal doesn't worry. Knowing he's in danger won't rattle him any more than killing does.” Jack examines the vintage WOODCARVING of Pazzi's ancestor hanging, disemboweled. “If Rinaldo Pazzi decided to do his duty as an officer of the law, he could have detained Dr. Fell and determined very quickly that he was Hannibal Lecter. Would have taken thirty minutes to get a warrant.”
“All those resources were denied to Pazzi. Once he decided to sell Hannibal, he became a bounty hunter.” I say as I clip a TEMPORARY FBI badge on Will, Handing Jack his. “Outside the law and alone. Here we are: outside the law and alone.” Jack claims, I shake my head. The best thing about “not being apart of any of this” is that I still have my resources, and my job.
“Again.”
“We know how that usually turns out. Mason Verger is trying to capture Hannibal himself for purposes of personal revenge.”
“Have you told la polizia they're looking for Hannibal Lecter?”
“They're motivated to find Dr. Fell inside the law. Knowing who he is... and what he's worth, will just coax them out of bounds.”
“It would be a free-for-all.” I say, softly concerned. “And Hannibal would slip away. Would you slip away with him?”
“Part of me will always want to.” Will says as he brushes hair out of my face. “You have to cut that part out.” Will looks around the displays of torture instruments.
“Of course you would find him here. Not because of the exhibit, but because of the crowd it attracts.” Jack watches Will as he moves behind a STARVATION CAGE, appearing as though he's trapped inside. “You had him, Jack. He was beaten. Why didn't you kill him?” Jack considers that a moment, then: “Maybe I need you to.”
HANNIBAL'S FLORENCE APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - DAY-
Bedelia sits opposite Jack Crawford who pulls out one of the ampoules, studying it, while Will observes behind Jack. “My husband's a doctor. He's treating my condition.”
“What condition is that, Mrs. Fell?”
“I get confused.”
“Please. You need to get over yourself, whatever self this is... Bedelia.” Will scoffs and paces.
“My name is Lydia Fell.” Will’s image FLUTTERS in fits and starts as the room around him continues to PULSE and VIBRATE.
“You expect us to believe you somehow got lost in the hot darkness of Hannibal Lecter's mind? That Lydia Fell is some construct?” I ask as I take a seat, a hand resting on my belly.
Jack pulls out his cell phone and calls up an image he shows to Bedelia: a MISSING-PERSON poster displaying her likeness. She stares through it. “Now I'm very confused.” Will leans in close to Bedelia and, in a distorted reprise of her words to him, he mockingly whispers: “I don't believe you.”
“You're not confused, Bedelia.” Jack says slightly frustrated and impressed. “That's not my name.”
“You know who you are and what you are doing, and you know exactly how you're going to wiggle out of it. What is this? Sedatives? Hypnotics? Ethanol? Scopolamine? Midazolam?”
“Same cocktail Dr. Lecter served Miriam Lass? You've been freebasing your alibi. I'm not even mad at you. In fact, I'd say I'm fairly impressed.”
“Mostly because you're still alive. When this fog of yours clears, I'd love to hear how you managed that.” I say as I cross my feet.
Bedelia maintains her front, but there is an almost imperceptible glint in her eye. She turns to Jack: “You say my husband murdered a Chief Investigator of the Florentine Questura. Where are the polizia? Shouldn't they be questioning me?”
“They will.” I let out a deep breath, it's almost nauseating how good she is at playing the part that's been given to her. “They sure are taking their time. What could possibly be the delay? I have an idea. Do you?”
“They're being bought. By whoever bought Rinaldo Pazzi.” Jack says as he stands from his seat. “Interest in my husband seems to be getting very competitive.” Jack becomes aware that Will is no longer in the room.”
“Will?”
“I wonder who will find him first.” I take Will’s hand and let him guide me out of the room, leaving Jack and Bedelia alone in the room…
UFFIZI GALLERY - DAY-
Hannibal is sitting on a bench before the Primavera, quietly sketching the painting THE GARLANDED NYMPH is being drawn to look exactly like Dr. Y/N L/N. THE PALE ZEPHYRUS is being drawn to look exactly like Will Graham.
Will and Y/N lay eyes on Hannibal for the first time since Hannibal gutted Will. All three battered and bruised. He comes forward and lays a gentle hand on Hannibal's shoulder.
Hannibal looks up at Will and smiles -- pleased to see him. Will and Y/N sit beside Hannibal on the bench in front of the glorious painting. A moment as they absorb.
“Good to see you.”
“If I saw you both every day forever, Will, I would remember this time.”
“Strange to see you in front of me. Been staring at afterimages of you in places you haven't been in years.”
"To market, to market, to buy a fat pig. Home again, home again, jiggity-jig."
“I looked up at the night sky there. Orion above the horizon and, near it, Jupiter. I wondered if you could see it, too. I wondered if our stars were the same.” I say, the first words in months. “I believe some of our stars will always be the same. You entered the foyer of my mind and stumbled down the hall of my beginnings.”
“I wanted to understand you before I laid eyes on you again. I needed it to be clear what I was seeing.” I say, softly.
“Where does the difference between the past and the future come from?”
“Ours? Before you and after you. Yours? It's all starting to blur. Mischa. Abigail. Chiyoh.” Will scoffs, Hannibal smiles. “How is Chiyoh?”
“She pushed us off a train.” I laugh softly resting my head on Hannibal’s shoulder. His hand rests on my belly, a soft kick emits under his hand. “Atta girl.” Will studies Hannibal a moment, then: “We all have begun to blur.”
“Isn't that how you found me?”
“Even as the possibility of free will dissipates, my experience of it remains the same. I continue to feel and act as though I have it.”
“The worm that destroys you is the temptation to agree with your critics, to get their approval.”
“Every crime of yours feels like one I am guilty of. Not just Abigail's murder, but every murder stretching backward and forward in time.” Will says softly, Hannibal's hand strokes mine. “Then what's left to do? Freeing yourself from me and me freeing myself from you, they're the same.”
I release a breath i'm holding.
“We're conjoined. Curious if any of us can survive separation.”
“Now's the hardest test: not letting rage and frustration, nor forgiveness, keep you from thinking. Shall we?” Hannibal rises pulling me up with him; Will follows suit.
“After you.” Hannibal leads me out of the gallery by hand. Will follows behind in suit. His Harpy knife inconspicuously slides into his palm. Behind us Will’s own Harpy knife slides into his palm.
UFFIZI GALLERY - COURTYARD - DAY-
The reunited Trio emerge from the museum, out into the bustling courtyard.
A TELESCOPIC RIFLE SIGHT FROM THE ROOF Finding Hannibal in its crosshairs…
UFFIZI GALLERY - ROOF - DAY-
the rifle's silenced barrel, its opening resembling the entrance to a dark tunnel pregnant with danger. a gloved finger twitching on the trigger. Reveal it belongs to Chiyoh. Deliberately moving from Hannibal to Will. As she pulls the trigger and FIRES. Causing a FLOCK OF PIGEONS to burst into frightened flight...
UFFIZI GALLERY - COURTYARD - DAY-
As WILL IS HIT IN THE SHOULDER. And is thrown off balance against Hannibal who catches him. Holds him up as if Will is drunk or faint. Will's blade falls from his hand and Hannibal picks it up.
Hannibal looks around quickly and then throws an arm around Will, dazed and bleeding, and quickly hustles him though the courtyard toward the riverfront.
SOGLIATO'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT-
As Hannibal brings Will into the room. Will's shirt beneath his coat is soaked with blood. It runs
down his sleeve and drips from his fingers. Hannibal maneuvers Will onto the couch, where Will lies back. Dazed and dizzy from blood loss. I grab his Hand tightly as Hannibal moves away and comes back with water in a glass. He tenderly holds it to Will's lips.
“The bullet is still inside you. This will hurt.” He pulls Will forward and strips Will's coat from his shoulders, exposing the bullet wound and also effectively trapping Will's arms.
Again, Will watches as Hannibal cuts Will's shirt away and we see the ugly bullet wound. Still oozing blood. Will endures the pain beneath Hannibal's touch. The intimacy is striking.
“Chiyoh's always been very protective of me. Did she kill her tenant or did you?” Hannibal looks toward me. “She did.”
“Excellent.” Hannibal places Will's knife in his limp hand. “You dropped your forgiveness, Will.”
Will stares at the blade in the nerve-damaged hand of his trapped arm. They look at one another for a tense moment. “You forgive how God forgives. Would you have done it quickly, or would you have stopped to gloat?”
“Does God gloat?” I ask softly. Hannibal looks me in the eyes, “Often.”
Will furtively glances down, and Hannibal pierces Will's bare arm with a sharp needle, giving him an injection. The effect is instantaneous: Will drops the blade neatly into Hannibal's waiting hand. Will's eyelids flutter; we hear the THRUM-THRUM of his circulatory system as the drug courses through his veins.
As Hannibal looms IN AND OUT OF FOCUS, his voice slow and low. “Give that a moment.” Getting up pulling me with him, Hannibal moves through an archway, into the kitchen, where he starts unpacking a grocery bag.
The perspective fluttering ominously. “What you're experiencing is the first flush of fear.” Will is…Unsteady. As Hannibal approaches again, a shimmering giant looming overhead. He is now the WENDIGO. “Intense fear will come in waves. The body can't stand it for long.”
SOGLIATO'S APARTMENT - DINING ROOM - NIGHT-
Will Graham's eyes open and he looks to where Hannibal can be seen, only feet away, yet it seems a great distance. His image GHOSTS in a conscious replaying of Hannibal in the
Teaser. Both men are battered and bruised.
Will sits in front of Sogliato's fine white linen, china and silver, leaving GHOSTLY IMAGES of his slow progress behind. Hannibal produces a fine syringe and injects Will's arm once more. Will swoons, and Hannibal uses a strap already fastened to the chair back to pinion Will to the chair.
As the room swims and Hannibal's face MORPHS INTO WILL'S OWN FACE and then back again.
“I do not indulge much in regret, but I am sorry to be leaving Italy. There were things in the Palazzo Capponi I would have liked to read.” Hannibal returns and places a small tureen in front of Will.
“I would have liked to play the clavier and perhaps compose. I might have cooked for the Widow
Pazzi, when she overcame her grief.” Hannibal moves out of sight and Will. Doped. Room blurring around him.
“I would have liked to have shown you Florence, Will.” Hannibal raises a spoon to Will's lips. Will sips. “The soup isn't very good.”
“It's a parsley-and-thyme infusion, and more for my sake than yours. Have another sip, let it circulate.” Will does so. Pliable to Hannibal's wishes. Will notes a Fourth place setting at the other end of the table. I approach The two men, Hannibal Takes my hand kissing it softly.
“Are we expecting company?”
SOGLIATO'S APARTMENT BUILDING - LOBBY/ELEVATOR - NIGHT-
Jack enters through the front door. Checking a directory displayed on the wall, he finds the name "SOGLIATO -- 7B." Then he gets into an elevator.
SOGLIATO'S APARTMENT BUILDING - ELEVATOR - NIGHT-
Jack presses the button marked "7." As the door begins to slide shut, a hand suddenly reaches in to stop it. CHIYOH Steps into the elevator with her rifle case, standing right beside Jack, both of them looking straight ahead. The door closes again.
Chiyoh reaches to press "7," realizing it's already pushed. She glances surreptitiously at Jack. The elevator LURCHES upward. Jack looks at her. Chiyoh looks at Jack. Sees the gun under his coat.
SOGLIATO'S APARTMENT BUILDING - HALLWAY/ELEVATOR - NIGHT-
A cheerful DING heralds its arrival. The door opens. Jack holds it open for Chiyoh who reluctantly walks out. Jack watches her go. He allows the elevator door to close and follows Chiyoh. She moves down the hall and, as she approaches the stairway landing, she pauses. She glances back at Jack.
“Wrong floor.” Chiyoh casually descends the stairs, aware that Jack is watching her suspiciously. He considers a moment, then continues down the hall. As he approaches Sogliato's door. He touches the door... which swings open. He sneaks inside.
SOGLIATO'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM/DINING ROOM - NIGHT-
Jack enters, careful. Draws his gun. Hearing the soft music coming from the dining room, he heads through the archway... The sight of Will sitting at the table -- drugged and bound, his head dropped -- stops Jack cold. He creeps into the room, listening for any sound of Hannibal. All we can hear is the sizzle of butter.
Jack cautiously approaches Will, puts a hand on his shoulder. Will stirs, focusing on Jack, blinks, then: “He's under the table, Jack.” An arm JUTS OUT FROM UNDER THE TABLE, a blade FLASHES. Jacks Achilles heel is slashed. Jack DROPS HARD.
SOGLIATO'S APARTMENT - DINING ROOM - NIGHT-
The music is still playing softly as Jack comes round to find himself seated way down at the opposite end of the table from Will. Y/N Sits near Will. Not far from Jack, Hannibal is busy at his burners, scraping minced caper berries into the sizzling pan. Jack makes to move and his face falls in frustration and then sudden fear as he realizes he cannot move.
“I've taken the liberty of giving you something to help you relax. Won't be able to do much more than chew, but that's all you'll need to do. I didn't have an opportunity to ask you during our last encounter, but did you enjoy the exhibition? A different kind of evil minds museum.”
“Not so different.” Hannibal smiles and pours Will a glass of wine. Will raises it and sips. Jack stares, the incongruity of this beyond belief. Hannibal comes up from behind me, brushing my hair away from my neck.
“The promoters are failed taxidermists who formerly got along by eating offal from the trophies they mounted. Things that bring people together.” Hannibal smiles then, leans down and kisses my neck.
“We were supposed to sit down together back in Baltimore...the four of us.”
HANNIBAL
“You were to be the guest of honor.” Hannibal pours himself a glass of wine now and takes a leisurely sip. “But the menu was all wrong.”
HANNIBAL
“Yes, it was.” Putting down his wine, he picks up a diabolical-looking electric BONE SAW, addressing Will: “Jack was the first to suggest getting inside your head.”
Hannibal looks down at Will. Then, fondly, and with real regret: “Now we both have the opportunity to chew quite literally what we've only chewed figuratively.” My breath hitches, I gaze at Hannibal.
With the flick of a switch, Hannibal REVS up the bone saw. Wielding the bone saw, Hannibal approaches Will, the elegant music playing in ironic counterpoint. A tear falls down my face.
Will's drugged POV makes this hellish, the blade spinning in “Hannibal…”
Hannibal brings the SCREAMING bone saw, with its madly spinning, serrated blade, toward Will's head… “Hanni- ah-” I clutch my stomach pain…No…No….NO! I tear up severe pain.
we hear the unmistakable, sickeningly high-pitched sound of metal SLICING Blood begins to trickle down between Will's eyes. Jack's screaming face -- but no sound emerges. Blood floats upward in floating BUBBLES suspended over the table and, in them, he sees reflections -- Jack, Hannibal, himself and the Wendigo.
Will's huge pupils -- the room reflected within them isheye-style as Hannibal leans over him.
still, as the room seems to SPIN faster and faster round him, as if the WHINE is of the room spinning, not the blade. He glances over at Y/N, she’s crying…She’s in pain. But why? And as his eyes finally close...
MEAT TRUCK - DAY-
Twin rows of GUTTED PIG CARCASSES hang in plastic wrapping from a rail in the roof of the darkened space. The TICK and HUM of refrigeration can be heard in the metal box.
A sudden CLANG as the door is opened and a gust of frosted air is expelled into the dark space beyond -- unclear behind the beams of a powerful light. A WHIRRING noise can be heard.
Will is actually HANGING UPSIDE DOWN like the carcasses, Hannibal alongside him, similarly trussed. The WHIRRING continues and the carcasses swing sideways as a silhouetted shape moves through them to reveal – MASON VERGER In his electric wheelchair, looking at them both with great satisfaction.
Cordell behind him. A beatific smile. “Gentlemen, welcome to Muskrat Farm.”
TWISTED MINDS: Act III- Chapter Thirty-One Contorno
TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Implied Death, Death, Cannibalism, Guns, Mental Heath, Pregnancy
Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.
Taglist: @punkin-time @miaowkitty @gabriella-aesthetic @urlocalfanficwriter @dilfdemolisher
Twisted Minds Masterlist
TRAIN - WILL GRAHAM'S SLEEPER CABIN - DUSK-
They sit opposite one another in a sleeper cabin -- two chairs beside the window with a table, bunk beds and a small bathroom. Old wood. A taste of a Europe from days gone by. The train's RATTLE and CLACK is a constant background. “Hannibal would burn all kinds of barks and incense for me to identify by scent alone. He was charming the way a cub is charming, a small cub that grows up to be like one of the big cats.”
“One you can't play with later.”
“The day I met Hannibal, he was an orphan. I was meant to meet him with his sister, but he was alone.”
“How did you meet him?”
“I was his aunt's attendant. My parents sent me to learn from Lady Murasaki when I was just a girl. I learned from Hannibal, too. He had all the wisdom in miniature.”
“He comes in the guise of a mentor, but it's distress that excites him.” I say, in all the years ive known Hannibal lecter ive known this statement to be true. “I'm not in distress.” I laugh softly, silly girl. “Not anymore. You had a strict rule about taking life and you broke it. Is it on your mind? Do you see killing him over and over?”
“No. I see you. How do you know Hannibal's in Florence?”
“Botticelli.” Will hands her an Uffizi Gallery POSTCARD of the Primavera.
“When we find him, I will have steady hands and a slow heart. Will you?” Will offers a faint smile, glances out the window. She stares at him a moment, then glances outside herself. “I've never been to Italy. I never expected to. Birds eat thousands of snails every day. Some of those snails survive digestion and emerge to find they've traveled the world.”
“In the belly of the beast.” Chiyoh stares at The Couple, then her attention drifts back to the
window and the passing landscape. through the window, the landscape is revealed to be…
PONTE SANTA TRINITÀ - EARLY MORNING-
The arch of the bridge is still quiet as we find JACK CRAWFORD moving across the span. The splendor of ancient Florence around him. The calm waters of the Arno reflecting the gaily-yellow
buildings crowding either bank. Jack walks to the center of the bridge, the Arno River stretching in either direction. The Ponte Vecchio downriver from him.
We now see Jack carries an URN, and he rests it on the edge of the bridge. Watches sunlight dance on the water. A wistful smile. And then Jack lifts the lid from the urn, dips in a hand and
lifts out Bella's ashes. some escape on the light breeze. He leans out and drops them into the water. Watches as they dapple the surface and disappear.
Another handful. And then another. And then he tips the urn and the ashes fall in a sudden rush to the water below… As he releases Bella's remains to the sun-kissed waters. Ponders his hand stained with her ashes, then removes his wedding ring and tosses it into the river. The wedding ring drifts away into dark waters.
PAZZI'S APARTMENT - DINING ROOM - NIGHT-
Jack sits at a table with PAZZI and his beautiful wife, ALLEGRA, in the midst of setting the table. She notices Jack's ring finger and the depression above his knuckle. “You've recently stopped wearing your wedding ring.”
“You've just started wearing yours.”
“I have a young and lovely wife. Her efforts have ground twelve pounds off my frame.”
“La Vita Nuova.” She kisses Pazzi and pours wine. “Divorced?”
“Widowed. I met her in Italy. It's strange being here without her.”
“What was her name?”
“Bella.”
“To Bella. Cin-cin.” They drink and Allegra moves back to the kitchen. Pazzi glances at his wife through the door. “I look at her and I think about all the things I want to give her…”
“How you want to appear in her eyes.”
“Certainly not in my present role at the Questura. I perform menial errands found for me by my former subordinates. Interviews in missing-person cases. They've enjoyed my fall from grace.” Jack considers that and realizes: “You weren't in Palermo on official police business.” Pazzi blinks, caught. “Neither were you.”
“Are your subordinates at the Questura aware that you're investigating Hannibal Lecter?”
“Questura headquarters is located in a former mental hospital. Madness still lives there. I'll tell them when I know it's Lecter that I'm investigating.”
“You already know.”
“I need to be certain. I am disgraced and out of fortune. I have been waiting for the whisper of the ax for far too long.”
“It's inclined you toward a dangerous game outside the law. I've played that game. I lost.” Allegra enters with a bowl of beautiful pasta.
“How do you behave when you know the conventional honors have no value? Is it possible to behave well then? Desirable to behave well then?” Allegra eyes her husband as she takes a seat at the table. “Let's eat.” Jack as he studies Pazzi...
TRAIN - WILL GRAHAM'S SLEEPER CABIN - NIGHT-
-- lying in his bed, staring into middle distance. Stroking Y/N’s hair as she rests on his chest. The lights are dim as they ready to sleep. The water closet door slides open revealing Chiyoh in a robe. She quietly enters and crosses to her bed, climbing inside without a word. She stares into middle distance just as Will had been doing. A long moment of silence, then: “Do you want me to talk so you don't have to? Or would you rather I not talk at all? Can talk or not talk.” Will says as he strokes my hair, “Are we obligated to talk?”
“No.”
“Strange to talk so much. Not used to hearing voices outside my head.”
“I hear voices from all directions.”
“I become aware of words no one is saying. Words that spoke to me in the gnawing sameness of my days.”
“In the gnawing sameness of your days, did you look at the shape of things? At what you were becoming?”
“I wasn't becoming anything. I was standing still. Exactly where he left me standing. Like taxidermy.”
“Hollowed out and filled with something else.”
“Not something else. I'm not as malleable as you both are. You have a taste for it now.”
“A taste for what?” I ask as I sit up, With the help of Will. Chiyoh looks me in the eyes,“Harm.”
She's right but that's at no fault of Hannibals’, I had violence and bloodshed boiling inside me since i was born. Guess that's What happens when your mom was a serial killer. And you know what. I’m glad I killed her, my motivation for killing her wasn't out of self preservation or defense. No. If anything it was out of rage and spite and revenge.
My motivations toward my mother were similar to Hannibal’s with the Caged man. Both took people we were supposed to protect. I had 6 younger brothers, and not one survived my mother. “Do you?”
“I was violent when it was the right thing to do, when I was obliged to do it. But I think you like it.” She continues to stare daggers at me, I smile simply. “Violence can be a powerful means to regulate someone's behavior.”
“Are you regulating Hannibal's behavior or is he regulating yours?”
“We all afforded each other an experience we may not otherwise have had.”
“You've afforded me an experience I would not otherwise have had. If you don't kill him, you're afraid you're going to become him.” And that's where she's wrong. If anything, I'm afraid of becoming my mother. “No.”
“There are means of influence other than violence.”
PALAZZO CAPPONI - ATROCIOUS TORTURE EXHIBIT - DAY-
Chiaroscuro light. Display cases containing the tools with which to inflict savagery on the human body. Various WORKERS, dressed in coveralls, unpack torture instruments from crates. Pazzi as he crosses toward a silhouetted figure overlooking the exhibit. “Dr. Fell?”
“Yes.”
“I am Inspector Pazzi of the Questura di Firenze.” As Hannibal turns, his face is illuminated in a fine shaft of sunlight. White curator's gloves on his hands. He almost staggers. It's been twenty years since he last saw his prime suspect for the il Mostro case, and here he is. Hannibal's eyes betray no recognition. “I was wondering if you ever met your predecessor?”
HANNIBAL
“Never met him. Read several of his monographs in the Nuova Antologia.”
“I know the officers who first investigated checked the Palazzo for any sort of note -- farewell note, suicide note -- found nothing.”
“The going assumption is, he eloped with a woman and her money.”
“What is the going assumption regarding Professor Sogliato?”
“Still no word?”
“You may have had the last word with Sogliato. Your colleague…Signor Albizzi, tells me no one has spoken to Professor Sogliato since he declined your invitation to dinner. He is the second to have disappeared from the Palazzo.” Pazzi is keenly aware of the workers in the background, giving him some semblance of safety with il Mostro.
“Like any good investigator, I'm sure you're sifting the circumstances for profit.” Pazzi's wheels spin as he surreptitiously studies Hannibal. “Both were bachelors, well-respected scholars with orderly lives. They had some savings, nothing much.” Hannibal reacts, recognizing something in Pazzi. "Commendatore Pazzi?”
“Yes.”
“I think you are a Pazzi of the Pazzi, am I correct?”
“How did you know that?”
“You resemble a figure from the Della Robbia rondels in your family's chapel at Santa Croce.”
“Ah, that was Andrea de' Pazzi depicted as John the Baptist.”
“Then there's the most-famous Pazzi of all: Francesco. He attempted to assassinate Lorenzo the Magnificent in the cathedral, at Mass, in 1478.”
“Yes, the Pazzi family were all brought low on that Sunday. If you come upon anything, Dr. Fell, anything personal from the missing men, would you call me?”
“Of course, Commendator Pazzi.” He nods to Hannibal and then walks away, plucking a brochure on THE EXHIBITION OF ATROCIOUS TORTURE INSTRUMENTS as he
Exits. Hannibal as Pazzi WIPES by, leaving us on a still Hannibal watching him go.
TRAIN - CABOOSE PASSAGEWAY - NIGHT-
the darkened corridor, finding the door to the rear platform. A silhouette framed against the night
outside. Will moves smoothly along the passageway, in slippers, a coat covering his nightwear.
TRAIN - CABOOSE REAR PLATFORM - NIGHT-
Chiyoh stands with Y/N, braced against the railing, staring out into the darkness unfurling behind the train. Will watches The Women from inside the caboose a moment, then joins them. The wind whips at them both.
“I like the night. It's more than a period of time; it's another place. It's different from where we are during the day.” Chiyoh comments by his arrival
“We're different from who we are during the day. Little more hidden, little less seen.” I say as I stroke my belly, feeling a soft kick from within. “When life is most like a dream.” Will stares at her a moment, studying her. Coming up next to his Fiancee. “Why are you searching for him? What are you hoping to find?” He asks the Woman beside us.
“I'm not searching for Hannibal. I know exactly where he is.”
“Is he in Florence?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell us you knew?”
“I told you there are means of influence other than violence. But violence is what you understand.” And with that, Chiyoh shoves Will violently over the railing, sending him ass over teakettle into the night. Before I can register it I’m shoved Overboard as well. Who the fuck shoves a pregnant lady off a train?!?!
PALAZZO CAPPONI - ATROCIOUS TORTURE EXHIBIT - DUSK-
Strauss does his best to provide a relaxing blanket of sound over the cacophony of restorers working in the background. He enters with a wood case under his arm. There's no sign of Hannibal as he glances around the room, nodding to the restorers who stare back at him, absent of any friendly demeanor.
A cloth rests on a display case in the middle of the room. On it -- a small picnic. A glass of wine, some good cheese, a beautiful pear with a single bite taken out of it. “Buonasera, commendatore.” Pazzi looks up. Hannibal is standing perfectly still on the other side of the room. Was he there all this time? “Buonasera, Dottor Fell.”
“Back so soon?” Pazzi sets his wooden case on top of Hannibal's desk as Hannibal approaches, carving another bite mark out of the pear in slices and eating them. He watches Pazzi's face. “Given the nature of your exhibition and the content of our last conversation, I brought something I thought you might like to see.”
Pazzi opens the case. Inside there is A SCOLD'S BRIDLE -- a Renaissance torture device that resembles an ornate-butgrotesque metal mask fitted with a wicked, barbed mouth bit. “It was supposedly worn by Francesco de' Pazzi when he met his end. My family's guilt cast in iron.”
“A scold's bridle. May I?” Pazzi watches closely as Hannibal goes to pick up the mask. His fingers will leave prints all over the burnished metal. “Of course.
Hannibal sets his knife down and produces soft curator's gloves, slipping them on and taking the bridle from its case. “A wonderful heirloom.” As Hannibal studies the piece, the restorers in the background leave the room.
“I'm so glad you stopped by, Commendator Pazzi, as I found another family heirloom for you.”
Hannibal goes to a low cabinet under a display case. Pazzi watches Hannibal's back to him as he unlocks the case, watching Pazzi's reflection in the glass. Pazzi notices the Harpy knife Hannibal has left by the halfeaten pear.
There, on the hasp -- Hannibal's fingerprints. Pazzi eyes Hannibal, then smoothly picks up the knife with his handkerchief and slips it quickly into his pocket. Hannibal produces an OLD WOODCARVING of a man hanged by his neck -- his entrails snaking down around his feet.
“Beneath the figure is written his name. Can you make it out?”
“It says, "Pazzi."”
“This is your ancestor, Francesco, hanging outside the Palazzo. This particular illustration is bowels out. I've seen others bowels in. By all accounts, Francesco was led astray by thirty pieces of silver from the hand of the Papal banker.”
Yes, the archbishop, in all his holy vestments, hanged beside Francesco and provided no spiritual comfort.” Hannibal looms behind Pazzi. A dark, unfocused figure, pointing at a detail on the woodcarving.
“It's hard to see, but here's where the archbishop bit him. Eyes wild as he choked, the archbishop locked his teeth in Pazzi's flesh. On a related subject, I must confess, I've been giving very serious thought to doing the same.” Pazzi turns and Hannibal SNAPS INTO FOCUS. With one hand, hesmothers Pazzi's face with an ether-soaked cloth.
Francesco de' Pazzi hanged by his neck -- his entrails snaking down around his feet. The reflective light of a candle dances across the surface of the illustration, giving the appearance of the hanged man swaying in a light breeze.
Over this, we hear SHALLOW BREATHING growing louder, along with the subtle SQUEAKING of a dolly truck's wheels. The candlelight flickers to darkness, out of which emerges: Hannibal.
“Can you hear me, Signor Pazzi?”
PALAZZO CAPPONI - WINDOW - NIGHT-
Pazzi is strapped to an upright dolly by Hannibal who is positioning him in front of a large window. Pazzi's mouth is taped and his eyes blink slowly, trying to focus. “Take some deep breaths while you can and clear your head.”
Hannibal's hands are busy as he talks, rolling a big floor polisher into the room and working with its thick orange power cord, tying a hangman's noose in the plug end of the cord, making the traditional thirteen wraps.
“I haven't had a bite all day. Actually, your liver and kidneys would be suitable for dinner right
away -- tonight, even -- but the rest of the meat should hang a week in the current cool conditions. I did not see the forecast, did you? I gather that means "no."” Hannibal completes the hangman's noose with a tug.
“If you tell me what I need to know, commendatore, it'd be convenient for me to leave without my meal. I'll ask you the questions and then we'll see. You can trust me, you know, though I expect you find trust difficult, knowing yourself.” The noose tied from electrical cord is passed over Pazzi's head and secured around his neck.
“When the police didn't come, it was clear that you had sold me. Was it Mason Verger you sold me to? Thank you, I thought so. I called the number on his "wanted" site once, far from here, just for fun. Have you told anyone in the Questura about me? Was that a nod?” Pazzi shakes his head "no" as his cell phone begins to RING. Hannibal removes it and answers.
“Pronto.”
VERGER ESTATE HOUSE - BALCONY - SUNSET-
Alana speaks quietly into her cell phone: ”Inspector Pazzi. My name is Alana Bloom. You don't know me, but I Know your benefactor–” Hannibal smiles as he hears Alana Bloom's voice.
“Hello, Alana. I'm afraid the inspector is otherwise occupied.”
“Hannibal. Is he dead?”
“There's nothing I'd love more than to be able to chat with you, but you caught me at an awkward moment. It's nice to hear your voice.” He hangs up and stuffs the phone back into Pazzi's pocket.
“Hannibal, please. Wait–”
PALAZZO CAPPONI - WINDOW - NIGHT-
Hannibal and Pazzi, as before. “Which do you think, commendatore? Bowels in or bowels out? Bowels out, I think.” In a fluid movement, Hannibal turns, his Harpy knife flashing up Pazzi's front; he calmly tips Pazzi forward, out the window.
PALAZZO CAPPONI - NIGHT-
Jack looks up just in time to see Pazzi's body tumble forward from the window high above the square. Pazzi falls to the extent of the electrical cable. It pulls whip-crack taut with a loud CRACK -- Pazzi's neck snapping. Only Pazzi's bowels continue the descent, ribboning from his
abdomen and raining down onto the ancient cobblestones below.
PALAZZO CAPPONI - WINDOW - NIGHT-
He peers down at Jack in the square. Inhales the hollow shock from the TOURISTS milling below. The rising murmur as people begin to notice Pazzi's body. Pazzi's body dangles above jack. His head lolls at an unnatural angle. His intestines hang, entangled around his feet. A grisly puppet.
And -- above -- is Hannibal. Hannibal and Jack hold their positions for a long moment, and then Hannibal moves back inside. It breaks the moment and galvanizes Jack who rushes for the entrance. Around him, the cries of surprise from the crowd turn into screams of horror.
PALAZZO CAPPONI - ATROCIOUS TORTURE EXHIBIT - NIGHT-
Hannibal walks briskly through the hall on his way out. There's the BANG of a door shutting and Hannibal stops, listens. He glances around the room, but sees no one. “Hello, Jack.” Hannibal listens for any sound to betray Jack's position. “Did you get my note?”
No response. Hannibal carefully edges into the room. “I am truly sorry about Bella. For her, night and day would be very much the same in the end.” The room is a miasma of shadows. The only sound -- the recurring CREAK of the upright trolley jamming against the window frame as Pazzi's body swings far below.
“When she could no longer stir or speak, did you speak for her?” Half his face concealed behind one of the display cases. The other half reflected in it. An alien symmetry. “I imagine you were capable of giving any medication Bella may have needed in the night. Did you practice injections on an orange?” finds the Harpy blade, easy in Hannibal's hand.
“What medication did you give her in the end, Jack? Was it too much?” Shoes off, Jack moves quickly and carefully toward Hannibal. “Or just enough?” JACK reflected in a glass case -- there, and then gone. Hannibal whirls and... SLAM!
Jack grabs Hannibal from behind and hurls him through a display case in a SHOWER OF GLASS. as glass falls and sprays, and the heavy implements within fall slowly -- in a CLATTER of iron and TINKLE of glass. Hannibal's Harpy knife is thrown clear into the shadows.
Cut and shaken, Hannibal crawls toward a vicious-looking AX. Jack sees his intent and uses a MEATHOOK -- swinging it into Hannibal's calf and dragging him back toward Jack. Hannibal's hands grasp and miss the ax. Jack slams him with heavy fists, concussive blows.
Jack throws Hannibal who falls against the BREAKING WHEEL. Hannibal stares at Jack, blood staining his teeth. Jack slams Hannibal with his fist, again and again. Hannibal's head rocking back against the wheel. Arm strained to the breaking point.
But he lets the blows come. Regards Jack: “I brought Bella back from death and you returned her to it. Is that where you're sending me, Jack?” Jack hits him again and Hannibal has his answer -- yes.
Jack YELLS in primal rage and releases the breaking wheel, and Hannibal sags forward. Jack wheels him and hurls him through another cabinet and into the scaffolding and packing cases beyond. Another SHOWER OF GLASS. Hannibal lands, face stung with a hundred tiny cuts. Not even trying to fight back. He slowly gets to his feet and begins to limp away halfheartedly.
Jack grabs Hannibal and drags him through the packing crates, toward...
PALAZZO CAPPONI - WINDOW - NIGHT-
Jack drags Hannibal toward the window. “How will you feel when I'm gone?”
“Alive.” Jack hurls Hannibal backward out the window. knowledge of his own
certain death there -- and then, he lashes out an arm and – SEIZES HOLD OF PAZZI'S BODY.
Snags his hand on Pazzi's clothes and belt. His other hand grasps the electrical cord from which Pazzi is suspended. Hannibal hangs there, looking up at Jack. And then, he slides down Pazzi's body and lets himself drop, past the hanging entrails, and he lands hard and falls in the street.
One last look up, and then he staggers away.
Hannibal is gone.
TWISTED MINDS: Act III- Chapter Thirty Aperitivo
TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Implied Death, Death, Cannibalism, Guns, Mental Heath, Pregnancy
Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.
Taglist: @punkin-time @miaowkitty @gabriella-aesthetic @urlocalfanficwriter @dilfdemolisher
Twisted Minds Masterlist
VERGER ESTATE HOUSE - MASON'S BEDROOM - DAY-
“Each of us whose life intersected Hannibal Lecter lost something. A limb here, a lung there. A few feet of intestines. The dead–” In the background there's an unpleasant SUCKING sound. SLKGHHH. SLKGHHH. Chilton pauses, masking his irritation. “The dead at least have the luxury of being done with what they lost. But you and I, we still itch.”
Sunlight slants through from a balcony. The only other light comes from MEDICAL EQUIPMENT surrounding Mason's bed; but the bed itself and its occupant are shrouded in shadow.
“That little itch should be telling you something.” A large print of Blake's Ancient of Days is on the wall beside it. At Chilton's feet, the EEL swims in restless Möbius designs. Chilton faces the bed. He's speaking to – MASON VERGER Who listens, bored. Propped up in bed, rudely sucking some kind of smoothie through a straw in the mouth hole of his face mask. SLKGHHH.
“Would you like to discuss what that little itch is telling you?” Mason stares, studying Dr. Chilton, then: “Are you wearing makeup? How long does it take you to put on your face in the morning?” Chilton shows no sign of anger. Allows a slight smile. “Now that I've got the routine down, no time at all.”
“Tell you what. You show me yours and I'll show you mine.”
Chilton hesitates... then starts removing his cosmetics: A CONTACT LENS Pinched off his left eye, revealing a DEAD, WHITE EYEBALL. A LAYER OF MAKEUP Wiped from his cheekbone, revealing the PUCKERED BULLET SCAR. It pulls his face down at the corner of his mouth.
Finally, Chilton stands before Mason, with all his damage exposed. Defiant. Almost... proud.
Mason chuckles. His one mobile hand creeps up to remove his mask, revealing his own GROTESQUELY-DAMAGED FACE. The flesh below his cheeks is tight and raw, his nose absent. Mouth pulled back in a rictus grin. “There. Now we can talk face to face.”
“I understand you've offered quite a substantial reward for any kind of relevant information on Hannibal Lecter, not just the usual apprehension and conviction.”
“Yes, a million dollars. One million. We advertised worldwide. A high price for a fancy pig.”
“Hannibal would be a prize pig if I had him in my hospital, but you do not intend to see him institutionalized, do you?”
“I'm saying nothing that would force you to break the bonds of doctor patient confidentiality.”
“You don't want a therapist. You want a profiler.”
“I want to understand Hannibal Lecter, to better understand myself.”
“You survived him. That is chief amongst what you need to understand.”
"Survived him"? That implies fortune or skill on my part that somehow allowed me to live. This is exactly how he intended me to live.” His LIPLESS MOUTH contorts into what might be a grin. “I know somewhere Dr. Lecter is going to and fro in the earth and walking up and down in it, and very likely having a good, fun time.”
“How do you relieve the agony of waiting for Dr. Lecter's capture? What do you fantasize about? I wonder what would happen if Hannibal Lecter was in your hands.” Mason studies Chilton an amused beat before offering a small laugh and a limp-yet-delighted slap to his thigh.
“I worry we're heading into territory not secured by your fee. I think I need to look elsewhere
for someone to tend to my emotional well-being. Good-bye, Dr. Chilton.” Dr. Chilton replaces the plate in his mouth and stands. “Happy hunting.”
Mason watching Dr. Chilton exit…
HOSPITAL - WILL GRAHAM'S ROOM - DAY-
WILL GRAHAM'S EYES Slowly flutter open. He gasps, wincing as he draws air into his rib cage. He takes in his surroundings to find he is… A hospital bed holds him. Glowing monitors flank him. His abdomen is freshly bandaged and stitched.
His eye finds a WALL CLOCK. In his shifting, blurring vision, the numbers sag and drift onto the wall. Will stares a moment -- until the minute hand CLICKS. Time is passing and will continue to pass. This is no fiction of his mind. He gazes over at a Sleeping Y/N, One hand on a small bump and another holding his.
A FIGURE Until now unseen, moves at the foot of Will's hospital bed. A DOCTOR Inspecting Will's chart. He replaces it and turns and smiles, pleased to see Will is conscious.
“How do you feel?” The man's question seems almost alien in its simplicity. “Thirsty.” The doctor hands Will the hospital-issue cup next to the bed, and Will drinks slowly through the straw.
The doctor looks to the open door of the ICU; an indistinct shadow indicates someone standing just around the corner.
“Feel well enough for a visitor?” The doctor exits through the door…and the visitor enters. But instead of Abigail Hobbs it is – DR. FREDERICK CHILTON. Will reacts, mildly disappointed by who he isn't, moderately disappointed by who he is. “Hello, Frederick.”
“Were you expecting someone else?”
“I was hoping for someone else.” Chilton approaches Will's bed, pulling up a chair right next to Y/N. “He knew exactly how to cut you. They said it was surgical. He wanted you to live.”
“He left us to die.” For a brief moment, Will sees ABIGAIL HOBBS, not Chilton. “But we didn't.” Will blinks and Chilton is all that remains of Abigail.
“Couple of suckers we've been. He set us up and knocked us down. What bothers me most is, I think it was easy for him. Shooting monkeys in a barrel. You had encephalitis. I don't know what my excuse was.”
“Compulsive imitation.” Dr. Chilton suppresses a snort. “I'm just living out what I observed in your experience with Dr. Lecter? How dull. But maybe. I am learning all sorts of new things about myself these days. I'm learning new things about you, too.”
“Imitation allows us to better understand the behavior of others.”
“I have great empathy for you, Will. Both of us eviscerated and accused, I have literally felt your pain.”
Will scoffs amused, “We have matching scars.”
“By the way, I can recommend some excellent macrobiotic yogurt. You need a friend, friend. When you leave this hospital, it will be under a cloud of suspicion.”
“Not a cloud. A fog.”
“Clear the air. I can help you get Hannibal Lecter out of your head.”
“And into your hospital.” Will raises his brows and strokes Y/N's Hand. “As good a place for him as any. Of course, it would be preferable to study him in his natural habitat.”
“I doubt you're the psychiatrist he would afford that opportunity to.”
“There is an opportunity here. For both of us. We can catch the man who framed and maimed us.”
“There's no opportunity here, Frederick. Not for you.” Dr. Chilton isn't terribly dissuaded.
“The optimist believes we live in the best of all possible worlds; the pessimist fears this is true. This is your best possible world, Will. Not getting a better one.” Chilton gets up and turns to leave before looking over his shoulder. “Oh- And Congrats on the baby.”
GRAHAM/L/N HOUSE - A FEW WEEKS LATER - DAY-
Will Graham is hunched over a large boat engine on a bench, alongside a thirty-six-foot sailing yacht, the NOLA, which peeks out of his shed. Will's hands are grimy, work clothes oil-stained. He is carefully reassembling engine parts.
Jack Crawford is approaching from around the side of the house. He takes Will in, says nothing till Will notices his presence. Will is surprised to see Jack, not sure he's happy about it. “I had hoped you would come find me. I understand why you didn't.”
“What can I do for you, Jack?”
“I'm here to make sure you don't contradict the official narrative. We're officers of the FBI, wounded in the course of heroic duty. “ Will scoffs, “That's not true for either of us.”
“We were supposed to go together. That's on me. That's my foul.”
“I'm not sure it would've turned out any different if we had.” Jack studies Will, then: “We assign a moment to decision, to dignify the timely result of rational and conscious thought.”
“Not all of our choices are consciously calculated.”
“Our decisions are. Y/N is being promoted to head of the Unit.” Will smiles proudly, “She told me. Decisions are made of kneaded feelings. They are more often a lump than a sum, Jack.”
“Do you remember the moment you decided to call Hannibal?” Will goes still. “I wasn't decided when I called him. I just called him. I deliberated while the phone rang. I decided when I heard his voice.”
“You told him we knew.” Will sighs deeply, “I told him to leave. I wanted him to run.”
“Why?”
“Because he was my friend. Because I wanted to run away with him.” Jack as he considers Will's admission…
HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - DINING ROOM - DAY-
Blinds are drawn; streaks of sunlight cut through the darkness, illuminating motes of dust hanging in the air. Alana Bloom ENTERS FRAME, moving into the room. Alana is in a wheelchair.
Alana stares at the spot where she remembers Hannibal throwing himself against the pantry door. Alana moves through the room. One hand slides along the table, leaving a trail in the accumulated dust. Silence. And then, a faint WHISPER:
“You were so afraid of me. That last time I saw you... before the last time I saw you…” The wheel of Alana's wheelchair SQUEAKS on the wood floor and the whispering ABRUPTLY STOPS.
HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY-
Alana wheels into the darkened kitchen. “Hello, Alana.” Alana startles as it reveals not Hannibal, but Will Graham sitting on the bloodstained floor, leaning against the kitchen cabinet where he fell after Hannibal gutted him.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I guess I'm looking for you.”
“That's a good guess.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Visiting old friends. Constructing an exhibit in my mind, well-spaced and lighted, keyed to the memories of what happened here.
“You're not tempted to forget?” Alana tilts her Head in curiosity. Will sighs almost frustratingly amused. “I don't want to forget. I'm building rooms in my memory palace for all my friends.”
“Friendship is blackmail elevated to the level of love.”
“A mutually-unspoken pact to ignore the worst in one another in order to continue enjoying the best.”
“After everything he's done, can you still ignore the worst in him?” Will considers for a long moment, then: “I came here to be alone, Alana. If you wouldn't mind.” He holds Alana's gaze. Finally, she moves away, disappearing into the dining room, leaving Will alone.
reveal Abigail leaning against the wall next to Will, her throat cut, covered in blood. As she offers
MUSKRAT FARM - DRIVEWAY - DAY-
Alana gingerly gets out of her car, leaning on a cane. She wears a trouser suit, very stylish.
MARGOT VERGER Is dismounting a horse and is approached by a GROOM. She watches Alana getting out of her car, with interest. “Hello. I'm Dr. Bloom.”
“You're the new psychiatrist.”
“I went one exit too far on the expressway. Came back along the service road. I'm not sure if this is my entrance.”
“This can be your entrance. Isn't easy to find, first time you come. Walk him back., I'm Margot Verger.”
“A witchy beauty about this place.”
“Yes, there is. You should see it in the spring. Riot of lilacs in the wind smells nothing at all like the stockyards and slaughterhouses one usually associates with the Verger name.” Alana steers the mild flirtation back to business at hand: “Can you please let your brother know I'm here?”
“He knows.”
VERGER ESTATE HOUSE - MAIN ROOM - DAY-
Margot Verger leads Alana Bloom toward a large, open room with a stone balcony that looks out over miles of national forest. Silhouetted in his wheelchair, in front of the balcony doors, is Mason Verger. They pause at the entrance. “Some people have trouble talking with Mason. If it bothers you, or you can't take it, I can answer any questions you might have.”
“Thank you.”
“Margot, you can leave us now.”
“If my brother offers you chocolate, politely refuse.” She moves off. And then turns to watch Alana, intrigued. As she turns away, it is Alana's turn to look back -- she turns back to Margot, thoughtful, as she watches her walk away. “Good afternoon, Dr. Bloom.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Verger.”
“Have a seat.” As Alana approaches the chair beside Mason, the angle slowly reveals his destroyed face in all its glory. Alana does not blink. Merely takes her seat. “I thank God for what happened. It was my salvation. Have you accepted Jesus, Dr. Bloom? Do you have faith?”
“I was raised in a religious atmosphere, Mr. Verger. Whatever that left me with, it's not religion.”
“Left me with more. I'm free, Dr. Bloom. I'm right with the Risen Jesus and it's all okay now. Nobody beats the Riz. He will rise me up and smite mine enemies and I will hear the lamentations of their women. That was once you, I'm told. Dr. Lecter got deeper inside you than he did any of us.” Mason chokes on saliva, stops talking. Alana stares.
“Would you like me to get the nurse?” Alana rises, but Mason's voice stops her before she can. “I'm fine. It's all okay now.”
“You're supposed to share any relevant information you find on Hannibal Lecter with the FBI. Have you always done that?”
“I want you to understand, this is not a revenge thing, Dr. Bloom. I have forgiven Dr. Lecter as Our Saviour forgave the Roman soldiers.”
“Forgiveness isn't all it's cracked up to be, Mr. Verger. I don't need religion to appreciate the idea of Old Testament revenge.”
VERGER ESTATE HOUSE - MASON'S BEDROOM - DAY-
Mason Verger's major-domo nurse, CORDELL, hovers behind him, applying pressure to the mask. “Ow.” Cordell carefully peels the warming mask off, discarding it in a tray. His hands now move across Mason's scarred face, gently massaging the tight, hard skin. Mason winces in pain. “I'm saying "ow."”
“Blood is flowing. Nerves are intact. Pain is a good thing.”
“This is why you can never legally work in the health industry again, Cordell. They were going to throw you away. Would have been wasted. You have witnessed suffering that would have moved anyone else to rage or tears. But not you. Ow.”
“Scar tissue is an awesome demonstration of self-preservation. The flesh's fight to exist, down to the most basic cell, is a wonder.” Cordell lifts the bedcovers, squeezes lotion into his palm and begins massaging it into Mason's withering legs. “At Communions around the earth, the
devout believe that, through the miracle of transubstantiation, they eat the flesh and blood of Christ.”
“It's an impressive ceremony.”
“I need to prepare for an even-more impressive ceremony with no transubstantiation necessary. Cordell, I've known you to be absolutely reliable and capable of most anything. Is that true?”
“It is not untrue.”
“I pay you a large salary to be responsible for my care and feeding.”
“And all that entails.”
“And all that entails. I would like you to begin arrangements for Dr. Hannibal Lecter to be eaten alive.” Cordell doesn't pause, just continues massaging Mason's legs. Do you have a preference for how you would like him prepared?”
“Oh, Cordell... if I had lips, I would smile.”
VERGER ESTATE HOUSE - BALCONY - DAY-
Mason Verger sits in his wheelchair on the balcony, gazing out upon the acres of forest. Mason's weak fingers operate the joystick that rotates his wheelchair. He swivels to take in more of the view. Alana Bloom appears over his shoulder, limping on her cane. “All this time he eludes us, got away clean. It's as though Dr. Lecter has dropped off the earth.”
“Hannibal obviously has good papers and money. Europe is where a man of his tastes would settle.”
“His tastes are very specific.” She takes a seat, speaking calmly, therapeutically. “That's how you'll find him. The wine... the truffles. Taste in all things will be a constant between Dr. Lecter's lives. His name will change, but his taste will not. And he is not a man who denies himself.”
“Of course you know what he favors. Did he favor you, Dr. Bloom?”
“I think I amused him. Things either amuse him or they don't. If they don't... well, you didn't.” Alana sighs with amusement. “Do you ever feel that he genuinely cared about you?”
“I have no idea how Dr. Lecter genuinely feels about me. The last we spoke, he promised he'd kill me.”
Mason laughs, “That's fairly definitive. How does it feel to use understanding as a predator's tool?”
“I'm using it as I've always used it. As a psychiatric tool. Bâtard-Montrachet. A pretty rarefied Chardonnay. I would check importers and dealers for case sales or regular purchases. You
can set up the search fields in the International Commerce Database.”
“Why not take this to Jack Crawford?”
“Jack's done at the FBI. A footnote in his own Evil Minds Museum. They’ve Appointed Y/N as Head of the BAU. And I can't tell her because she Tells Will everything. When your father died, he left you with a U.S. congressman and a member of the House Judiciary Oversight Committee who just can't seem to make ends meet without you.” Alana Crosses her feet.
“I'll look through my pockets and see who I can find. I'm curious,Dr. Bloom, how have I found you in my pocket? Tell me, I'm all ears. They've just been redistributed.”
“You're preparing the theater of Hannibal's death. I'm only doing my part to get him to the stage.”
OFF Alana…
WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - A FEW MONTHS LATER - NIGHT-
ANOTHER CAR sits outside. Jack strides to the house, seeing – LIGHTS inside. Someone's home. Jack climbs the front steps and THE DOGS start BARKING from inside the house. As he approaches the front door, it opens and – ALANA BLOOM Emerges from inside.
“Where's Will?” Jack looks at the house, a sense of defeat and disappointment coming over him. Knowing he's lost Will.
“He's already gone, Jack. Will knows what he has to do. Do you?” Jack doesn't answer; he turns and strides to his car. Sending Y/N with will Might be one of the worst mistakes hes ever made, or one of the best. OFF Alana watching him go…
ATLANTIC OCEAN - DAY-
BLUE WATER The ocean. Morning. No land in sight. A balmy day. Light waves, small whitecaps forming and disappearing. A BOAT'S PROW Slices the water, cutting the waves at a good clip.
It's the NOLA -- the sailing yacht we saw Will working on. And at the helm, find – WILL GRAHAM The wind tousling his hair. Looking to the horizon, an intensity in his eyes. He looks almost... hungry.
BSHCI - BASEMENT - DAY-
A CAGE This is what was being built. A fearsome cage for a fearsome prisoner. And now it is finished. The only thing missing is the prisoner himself. DR. CHILTON AND ALANA BLOOM Standing before the cage, side by side. Alana and Chilton admiring the cage. Partners in this hunt…
