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Hannibal awoke, a noise that shouldn't have been there rousing him from his rest.
Silently, he pulled on the red sweater he'd draped over his shoulder, aware of the chill in his home in those first moments.
Then, reaching the kitchen, he stood there, wide-eyed and shocked.
Will Graham was cooking for him .
A Cajun breakfast, judging by the smell.
"Will, this is a surprise," Hannibal said, keeping his voice even, noticing how confident Will moved in Hannibal's space .
Did he do this in every house he visited at least once, identifying with the person who lived there?
Or was it only in Hannibal 's space?
"Hannibal!" Will smiled, looking at him. Hannibal was surprised by the use of the name, but decided not to focus on it. It was simply surprising and not unwelcome. "I'm not going crazy, I'm just sick." Will gestured to his bag sitting on a chair. “There’s the treatment. You were a surgeon, right? Can you… uh… take a look?”
Hannibal felt his heart warm. “Sure, Will. And maybe you can tell me what led up to this visit. You don’t have to cook me breakfast to spend time with me.”
“Funny you say that, Doctor , considering that’s what you did when we first met!” Will retorted, making Hannibal smile both at the familiarity with which Will treated him and at the memory of eating Cassie Boyle with the person the gift was dedicated to.
“Copycat murder, how can I forget that?” Hannibal asked rhetorically.
“I don’t think it’s a Copycat, I don’t know,” Will shook his head. “Sorry, confused thoughts.”
“I didn’t know you had them,” Hannibal said, checking the treatment and approving the plan Dr. Solace had laid out. Unlike Sutcliffe, unless Will complained about his presence, Solace hadn't bought the right to be exposed as an inferior being.
"These ideas are starting to develop," Will explained, cracking eggs into the pan. "I know something's wrong , but I don't know what yet."
"The Copycat isn't a Copycat." Hannibal muttered. "It's a little unusual."
"The Copycat has been making fun of Hobbs, the FBI, and other serial killers," Will said. "He's not a Copycat, it's… like he's playing chess and making everyone think it's checkers."
"You admire his intelligence," Hannibal said, feeling the monster inside him purr.
"Well, to be honest," Will narrowed his eyes, "and you can't tell Jack, he's one of the most interesting serial killers."
"Not the most ?" Hannibal felt his mood drop. “That’s a little disappointing.”
Will snorted. “Sorry, Doctor Lecter, but if anyone ever managed to beat the Chesapeake Ripper, I don’t think he would last very long.”
Hannibal smiled. “You admire the Chesapeake Ripper, then. That’s… interesting , to be honest. I didn’t think FBI agents would admire a serial killer.”
“Well, I’m not an agent , am I?” Will smiled slightly. “And he’s… well, let’s just say he’s different from other serial killers.” Will tilted his head. “I did my thesis on him. Excellent profile, if I may say so, although I was told it couldn’t possibly be true.”
“You profiled the Chesapeake Ripper,” Hannibal said, a flash of concern. “That’s… unexpected.”
“They didn’t take it for granted, but only because I took murders with a completely different MO and said they were his,” Will rolled his eyes. “I mean, the precision, the elevation of unworthy to worthy? It was all there. But they weren’t exposed, so…”
“He didn’t make his tableaus,” Hannibal muttered. He wanted to read Will’s thesis, see how close his precious wolf had come to hunting him, at such a young age.
Hannibal was sure that, if Will had walked into his office instead of Miriam, Hannibal would have spent a lot of time exploring the boy’s mind, talking to him, getting to know him.
Will snorted. “Tableau. You know I used that in my thesis? And then Jack explained it to me, like I didn’t know what it meant.” Will shook his head. “Not that it matters.”
“What?” Hannibal asked, approaching Will, stopping right behind him.
“They’ll never catch him,” Will said, something confident in his voice. “He’s too smart to be caught and too amused to be caught. That’s half the fun, you know? Watching the FBI wander around like mindless idiots , trying to figure him out. Like there’s a word that can be used to describe him. Miriam, he had nothing against her, it was just humiliating Jack, added fun. I’m surprised he hasn’t tried to kill me yet, honestly.” Will wrinkled his nose. “Maybe even offended.”
Hannibal smiled. “You want the Chesapeake Ripper to kill you?”
“It would be kind of you to acknowledge that I’m smarter than the rest of the FBI,” Will said, looking back and blinking when he saw Hannibal so close. “Woah…”
“My apologies,” Hannibal said. “You didn’t put on your aftershave.”
“And it’s no less creepy now that I realize what you do.” Will blinked, before sighing and saying. “What are you, some kind of karma? I’m creepy, and I find myself with an equally creepy psychiatrist?”
“I didn’t remember you being so talkative, Will.” Hannibal smiled, amused.
He would have killed anyone else for those remarks, but there was Will who recognized that they were on the same level, that they were the same thing .
“I was sick,” Will said, pointing to Hannibal. “Come on, sit down, I made breakfast.”
Hannibal complied, looking expectantly at Will.
“What do you want?” Will asked, pausing from eating his portion.
“What are we eating?” Hannibal asked. “I’ve never cooked Cajun food; it’s too complicated for my skills.”
“I can teach you. I cooked for my dad and myself.” Will shrugged. “And I was one of the few college students who didn’t live on ramen.”
“Impressive.” Hannibal bowed his head.
“It’s a Cajun skillet. You need two potatoes, 200 grams of andouille sausage, preferably smoked, chopped red onion, diced bell peppers, a minced garlic clove, two or three eggs, and olive oil for cooking.” Will explained, taking a bite of his breakfast and saying, “And since we’re from Louisiana and we love our food spicy , we use a lot of spices. Smoked paprika, cayenne pepper, dried thyme, dried oregano, garlic powder, black pepper, and salt.” Will glanced at Hannibal. “They already sell you a spice mix. If you want real results, don't use it. If you just want something edible but fake, they're fine.”
“I never want to lose authenticity.” Hannibal smiled. “Can you tell me how?”
Will nodded. “First, blanch the potatoes in boiling, salted water for five or six minutes. Then, heat the oil in a pan, add the sausage, and sauté until golden brown. Add the onion, peppers, and garlic until softened, which takes about three minutes. Add the potatoes and spices and cook for about nine minutes, until the potatoes are nicely browned and crispy around the edges. Make room in the center between the ingredients and crack the eggs. Cover with a lid until the whites are cooked, but the yolks should remain soft.” Will grimaced. “This is the Cajun recipe, but there are different variations, you know, for flavor.”
“Variations that undoubtedly detract from the validity of the recipe itself.” Hannibal commented. “I’m glad you’re here, Will. It’s a pleasant surprise.”
Will blushed. “You gave me the key and said I could come over anytime. Was I wrong to take that literally? Because I know everyone says you can come over anytime, but they don’t really mean it. It’s just a figure of speech. But you’re different, so…”
“I meant it with all my heart, and I’m glad you took it as true.” Hannibal smiled. “You can come over anytime.”
Will smiled. “Then I will.”