S1 E9: Trou Normand

1.7K 40 37
                                    


Companion Song: "The Ghost on the Shore" – Lord Huron

"I'm just a man but I know that I'm damned

All the dead seem to know where I am

Till it began on the night of my birth

We'll be done in a turn of the earth

Lie where I land let my bones turn to sand

I was born on the lake and I don't want to leave

Every eye on the coast ever more

Will remember the sight of the ghost on the shore"


This "cut unscene" occurs after Will ends up in Hannibal's waiting room having lost over three hours of time. Hannibal tells him that viewing the human totem pole on the beach in Grafton, Virginia caused him to disassociate as a psychological defense mechanism. He questions why Will didn't quit consulting for the FBI when Jack gave him the chance, considering they both know the damage the job is doing to Will's psyche. At this point, it's very possible that Hannibal knows Will has encephalitis, and knows that's what's causing the lost time (perhaps on top of the work he does). But either way he's very keen on blaming Jack (driving a wedge between him and Will), and chastising Will for not quitting, even if it saves lives. The scene ends with Hannibal saying, "I don't want you to wake up and see a totem of your own making." The following assumes that Will left after the conversation ended. A few days later, Will loses time again during a class. He finds himself lecturing to an empty hall as Alana drops by for their first private interaction since they kissed. She admits she has feelings for him, but won't pursue anything because he's "unstable." This scene occurs the next day.

There was no sound except the waves. Will stood in the frosty mix of mist and snow, sweeping the desolate but serene expanse of winter beach with his gaze. He stood at the top of a dune, his bare feet nestled in damp strands of half-frozen grass that stubbornly grew at the apex. The sun was a vague, distant being, featureless in the sky. Snowflakes drifted lethargically past.

Will didn't feel the cold, only the terrible ache of a loneliness that felt as inevitable as a mortal wound, a pain that would only be sharper over time until the blessed end of suffering.

Down the beach, wading through the tide in defiance of the cold were a pair of female figures. They strolled lazily, as if enjoying themselves, kicking up water or stopping to admire their toes in the sand. He could hear their laughter on the edge of the wind.

Will broke into a run to catch up with them. It was Alana Bloom, with Abigail Hobbs at her side. They noticed him and began to move quickly away, their expressions now serious. "Wait!" Will called, trying to run faster. But the sand was deep, heavy and wet, sucking at his ankles.

"You killed my father," Abigail said solemnly.

"You're unstable," Alana added, with an apologetic smile.

They turned their backs on him and disappeared into the mist.

"Wait," he pleaded, his rib cage folding in on itself, crushed by their absence. He gave up, stopped running.

His dogs were there, he realized, and a flicker of warmth spread through his chest. They raced playfully down to the beach, each choosing a spot to dig. His pack dug and dug, sending sand flying in all directions. An icy dread crept over him as he realized what the dogs were doing. Each was digging a grave. And when they finished, each dog fell over dead into the hole they'd made, the sand filling in over them of its own volition.

Hannigram -- Cuts UnsceneWhere stories live. Discover now