'' Repeating History ''

'' Coping Mechanism ''

Finally returning to work the next day, the detective is a bit cagey, on edge, and constantly looking over their shoulder, wanting to avoid the psycho psychiatrist as much as possible, though he seems to just appear wherever they are without much, if any warning at all. Making it hard.

He was trying so hard to convince them to come to his office to finally have a proper, one-on-one session. And they weren’t having it for even a moment.

They tried to inform their boss about the man's pushy behavior, making them severely uncomfortable, but he just brushed them off saying the doctor was just trying to do his job, and for them to stop making it so difficult for him and everyone else. So they swiftly gave up trying to get his help, as he wouldn’t be of any use.

Finally, after being snuck up on all day, they managed to slip the cannibals' focus and hide away in their office, locking the door so no one would be getting in to bother them without breaking in. This brings them some level of comfort and security, even if they know it will be temporary. They have to leave eventually, and Hannibal knows where they live. Sooner or later their paths will cross again, and when they do, Bowie will be forced to confront the psychiatrist about his behavior.

For the time being, however, they get some work done. Mostly paperwork that they’d been procrastinating on and now had no excuse not to do. Then they decide to look online for local therapists. Hoping to find one for cheap that they can see short term just to convince their boss that they’re attempting to get help, and to make Hannibal useless, so he’ll hopefully leave them alone.

Come three o’clock, when Bowie is meant to be going on another field mission with their boss to investigate some case where a couple was murdered in their car off the side of the road just outside of town, a knock comes to their office door, followed by the jiggling of the doorknob, making them jump with surprise.

     “Boe? You alright in there?” their boss’s gruff voice calls out, laced with a vague concern which he’d failed to show prior when they came to him practically in tears about the harassment from the doctor.

They sit there for a moment, collecting themselves before they clear their throat and call back,
     “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute, pull the car around.”

It’s quiet for a moment before the man slowly walks away from the door without another word to the younger detective. They sigh softly and put their head down for a moment before getting up, wrapping things up in their office, and pulling their coat on.

They head out of the office, looking over their shoulder almost constantly for the cannibal psychiatrist that they suspect is still lurking around somewhere looking for them. Luckily, they don’t encounter him again on their way outside, getting into the car with their boss without much issue as it had begun to snow again; though much lighter than it had the last two days.

The moment the door shuts, an awkward stiffness encompasses the space. The detective goes rigid. Staring at their hands with quiet anxiety. Feeling the eyes on them. The silence in the car is intense and uncomfortable. Though. When their boss finally does speak up; it’s not helpful to the smaller individual's stress.

     “Are you seriously that, against, getting help?” the superior officer questions sternly.
     “Oh my god–” they’d begin with a groan.
     “No no, I’m serious. Because all you’ve done is complain about Hannibal since the moment he got here.”
     “Carter- I swear to god, would you just drive-”
     “No. Tell me what the fuck the problem is, Bowie. Why are you so--”
     “There is no problem!”
     “Why are you lying to me? Why are you–”
     “I’m not lying, for fucks sake!”
     “No, you are lying to me! And I don’t understand why!”