FOUND: A Hannigram Devil AU

8

     Will got two more nights of restful sleep before he drove back to work on Monday. He had spent the days recuperating, fishing and resting and trying to think about dead girls as little as possible. When the sun would set and the house got dim, he looked forward to the moment he pulled the blankets over him and the dark encompassed him. It was like sinking into quicksand, and he would sleep uninterrupted for hours.
     He'd been waiting for a moment to catch Hannibal alone, but Jack had ushered him into a meeting room as soon as he walked into Behavioral Science. There were some officers Will didn't recognize, as well as Dr. Alana Bloom. She sat next to Hannibal, whose eyes flickered with interest as Will walked in. It was clear he was no longer listening to what Alana had to say.
Jack's presence quieted the room's chatter. He stood at the end of the long table, placing his hands down on it. He surveyed the room, silently opening a file.
"We've gotten insight into the girl who escaped." He pointed out a picture of a smiling girl, one who resembled Katie so much that Will's stomach churned. He swallowed a lump in his throat as he felt Hannibal's gaze on him. "Her name's Abigail Hobbs. Aged nineteen. On a gap year, going to college this August, living alone with her father. Her father said she went out to run an errand for him, and she never came back. We have footage of her entering a gas station at about 4:30 PM, driving her car— she comes out with a bag, drives away." Jack pointed out various pictures: the car, the gas station footage, pictures of the home.
     "Where's the car now?" Someone asked. Will was too busy staring at the picture to notice who.
     "Found not too far from where she stumbled out of the woods. For now, it seems likely that someone lured her into pulling over, attacked her, and she ran."
     "Any fingerprints on the car?" Will asked. "Or Abigail?"
     "Nothing but her and her father."
     "Possibly a Bundy situation?" Price chimed in. "Acts like he's in danger and needs help, taking advantage of these girls' kindness?"
     "I'm willing to believe that in this situation, but it doesn't explain how there's been so many girls who all look exactly the same. And we'd have more witnesses."
     "Maybe he couldn't bring himself to kill Abigail, and that's why she got away?" Will examined the pictures again. "He hesitated?"
     "I believe the theory that he's checking these girls off some sort of list. Building up to his golden ticket, as you put it." Hannibal stood to get a better view of the file. "Perhaps Abigail is the ticket. The time finally came, and he hesitated enough to let her escape."
     "What would that mean? Abigail has a relationship to her killer?"
     The room was silent. This was now their conversation. "Boyfriend. Family member." Hannibal furrowed his brow. "Does the father have an alibi?"
     "He was at work. Construction. He needed Abigail to run out and grab something for him." Jack flipped over to another page. "We have witness testimony that he was at work that day. Clocked out around six. Abigail was found at 5:30."
     "Then I suggest looking into friends, partners, former classmates," Will replied. "We're looking for a man with an obsession."
     "There's going to be a vigil Wednesday night at the family home." Jack raised his eyebrows at Will and Hannibal, now leaning rather close to each other as they both bent to look at the file. Will understood the assignment before Jack could even speak.
     "I'll go," he said. "Take a look around."
     "I'd like for Doctor Lecter to go with you. You two look after that, while here we chase the lead on Cassie Boyle."
     "Yeah, anything on that?"
     "Her closest family member is her brother, Nicholas. Quite frankly, he hasn't been very cooperative— he's already been charged with a misdemeanor a couple years ago. Petty theft. Doesn't like cops. We're going to try and get the most casual interview possible with him, since we have to ease him into things."
     "As far as he knows, the Shrike killed his sister, too," Hannibal said. "Do with that information what you will. It can be an advantage."
     "Got it." Jack closed the file. "Good work, men."
     The room dispersed, with Hannibal and Will staying behind. Jack gave a rare smile.
     "And by men, I mean you two," he said.
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     "So you've been sleeping well."
     Hannibal looked rather pleased with himself, sitting with his legs crossed and watching Will pace. He wore a soft smirk. Will picked at the skin around his fingernails, a nervous habit.
     "What the hell did you do to me?"
     "Are you unhappy with the results?" Like it was some medication. Some treatment.
     Will sighed. "No. No, I'm..I'm great, actually. I just don't like the idea of you toying with my head like that. Of anyone doing it, actually."
     "I didn't do much— I just took away the visions. Anything else you feel is of your own volition." He studied Will. "What does it feel like when you sleep now?"
     "It's..it won't make any sense."
     "I believe we crossed a sensible line a long time ago."
     "It's soft. Soothing. I feel like there's a weighted blanket on me, and once I'm asleep, I float. I'm alone in an ocean."
     "You feel safe because the girls are gone now. And you're rested when you wake?"
     "More than I've been in decades."
     Hannibal listened with rapture. His expression was sly, as if he was completely aware of what he'd done. Will was indebted to him; more than that, actually. He had no choice but to fulfill his end of the deal. He didn't want to know what his punishment would be otherwise.
     "Do you like to talk about yourself?" He asked. "Because I have more questions than I can even store in my brain."
     "I like to talk about you." Hannibal raised an eyebrow. "I like to learn. Even the Devil can learn new things."
     "I want to learn about what you are. What you're doing to me."
     "I'll give you information when I feel like it." He steepled his hands under his chin. "Honestly, I'm not required to tell you anything. You're the one who owes me information, Will."
     "I don't have anything to say."
     "Oh, you have plenty to say."
     "I'm not gonna be fixed. I'm a mess. It takes divine intervention to even get me to sleep well."
     "You're scrambled. Torn in two. Just pottery who needs to be repaired." His eyes were piercing. "And I will repair you. I will mend your cracks and fill them with gold, Will. You simply have to trust me."
     "I'm not an object. You have to understand my apprehension."
     "Of course. But we need to fix it. The first step of therapy is a willingness to change. A surrender of trust."
     "What's even the point of therapy if you can mess with my brain all you want? Why not just save some time? Mold me like clay instead of fixing the pottery?" Will snapped, immediately regretting it. Hannibal, however, didn't seem to mind. In fact, he chuckled coldly.
     "Oh, Will," he laughed, "you're delightful. I could absolutely do that to you. But where's the fun in that?"