Chapter Text
Will knows, logically, that buildings cannot possibly be sentient, but as he stares up at the flat, dull grey brick edifice standing tall before him like an obelisk, he could swear that it looks down on him in kind and leers.
Hannibal’s hand touches his shoulder, a familiar comfort that reminds him to keep moving forward and makes it easier to do so without chickening out at the last second. Together they are swallowed by its gaping maw, a set of double doors that clang loudly shut again with an echo that reverberates throughout the unnecessarily huge lobby. He swears he can feel it salivating around them, eager to digest its newest visitors and deposit them into its deepest bowels, never to emerge. Will inhales a shaky breath through his nostrils and tells himself not to be so fucking dramatic.
Another man is leaving at the same time as they enter, dark skinned, broad shouldered, wearing a trench coat to fend off the rain and donning an equally stereotypical looking fedora like he just stepped off the set of a neo-noir film. Everything about his stance and overall bearing just screams “world weary but stoically cool-headed detective” so loudly that Will sincerely hopes he never attempts any kind of undercover operation in that get-up. He has to admit it does look pretty cool though.
The man notices them at about the same time and hesitates in his previously sure footing, looking at Will in particular with confusion and a hint of concern, almost disapproval. Will fidgets and tries to look anywhere else without looking like he’s trying to look anywhere else.
Dad clears his throat pointedly and the man hurriedly steps aside with an apologetic smile. “Excuse me,” he says genially, but his gaze darts between the both of them once more. “Bit young to be visiting a place like this, isn’t he?” he remarks to Hannibal, his tone so pleasant it almost buries the implicit judgment behind it.
Daddy’s return smile is equally placid but his eyes are crocodile flat. Will wants even more now to just shrink away and hide, but the hand on his shoulder remains, holding him in place. “We have a visitation scheduled with one of the patients, Mr…?”
“Crawford,” the man says, taking Dad’s hand in a warm shake when it’s offered, and has the grace to at least manufacture a shame-faced expression for his prodding. Daddy responds with his own name in kind, though Will almost wishes he hadn’t, not liking how he can visibly see this Crawford tucking the information away for later behind crinkled, smiling eyes. He does not introduce his son nor prompt the boy into introducing himself either, so Will keeps silent.
“Well, sorry for keeping you and forgive my nosiness. It’s just that I’ve never seen you two here before.” I’m here a lot, this statement implies. Any comings and goings are my business, even if this is not my domain. Mr. Crawford tips his hat to both of them, the picture of magnanimity and genteel charm. “Enjoy your visit, gentlemen.”
As if Will weren’t nervous enough before, now their visit feels illicit and wrong, like they shouldn’t be here. Like if that Mr. (Detective? Agent?) Crawford had known what they were here for, maybe he would have dropped the pleasant, laidback attitude to haul them away for questioning. He knows it’s ridiculous. He shouldn’t feel guilty for doing nothing wrong, if guilty is even the right word for it. But he can’t shake the feeling now that maybe, maybe, this was a mistake after all.
Daddy rubs his back soothingly and steers them to the check-in desk, where they’re given visitors’ badges after a brief pat-down and sweep-over by metal detector wands. They are directed to meet Chilton at his office before they will be taken to the interview cages further in.
“I’m afraid we must reschedule, Hannibal,” the man says, looking rather harried. “Yesterday there was an…incident. I’m sorry I neglected to tell you sooner. Your appointment quite honestly slipped my mind in light of the events. Agent Crawford was just here as well for follow-up questioning.”
“Indeed, we just ran into him.” Chilton blanches at this news and immediately starts grilling Hannibal for more information.
“What? Well, what did Jack say? Did he tell you about—no, scratch that, of course he wouldn’t. But did he suspect why you were here?”
“Unless he is also omniscient, Frederick, I very much doubt it. I simply informed him we were here to see a patient and he let us be on our way.”
“Ah, good…good. He must have assumed you meant for a personal visit. I guess technically speaking, he’s not wrong,” Chilton mutters. Will doesn’t hold as much confidence as either of them that the keen-eyed man they met in the lobby would really let the matter of their visit drop so easily, but he keeps his mouth shut.
“At any rate, I can’t let you see Gideon now,” Chilton continues. “He’s not to be let out of his cell for the foreseeable future, under any circumstances.”
Hannibal straightens where he stands. “I see.”
“No, you really don’t,” Chilton chuckles bleakly. “You see, yesterday he murdered one of my nurses.”
“How in the hell did he manage that?” Will blurts, his earlier nervousness forgotten. “I thought the whole point of prison was to keep inmates from committing the same crimes again!”
Chilton sniffs at him in offense, clearly not liking having a teenager point his glaring incompetence out to him. “This is a hospital, young man, not a prison,” he corrects tartly. “And of course, we have strict security measures in place to keep this sort of thing from happening. Unfortunately, Abel Gideon outsmarted them with relish and ruthless efficiency. He faked a heart attack and was rushed to the infirmary. While he was believed to be unconscious, he overwhelmed the poor girl and…well, I really shouldn’t say anymore in present company.”
He turns back to Hannibal and, despite the apparent stress and dark circles under his eyes from a night of poor sleep, they seem to gleam a bit now, his usual puffed up arrogance making a return. “As you’ll undoubtedly learn soon enough though, this solidly proves my theory, Hannibal. Those vultures from The Tattler are already trying to hound me for an exclusive,” he says, poorly concealing his delight in this development.
“Oh dear, one of your orderlies must have already been a bit loose-lipped in the wrong sort of company,” Hannibal replies blandly.
“Yes, yes, I’ll have to remind them about the confidentiality clause in their contracts during our next staff meeting,” Chilton handwaves just as blithely. Probably, if Will had to guess, because he already knows perfectly well who the blabbermouth is and instructed them to leak it, if he didn’t in fact do it himself. Daddy has obviously also come to the same conclusion.
“I’ll call you when the dust settles to set up a new meeting time,” Chilton is saying now, making to open the door for them, and Dad moves to follow him. At least until he sees Will standing firmly in place, arms folded in front of his chest, determined and sure of himself as he hadn’t been when they first got here.
“No. I want to see him now.” Chilton sputters at Will in surprise. The look Daddy gives him is unreadable.
“That, that’s…” Chilton struggles to find the words. He looks to Hannibal for guidance, and seeing his expression as well—or rather, noticing the lack of immediate concern, forbearance, or disapproval there—he pauses consideringly. “Regrettably,” he tells them finally, “I have to voice some concern here and admit I don’t think that would be the wisest decision.” It’s such a meager protest, Will isn’t sure who he’s even making it for, other than his own professional pride, perhaps, as a psychiatrist—as someone who is supposed to put the mental wellbeing of others above his own pet projects.
Daddy ignores him to address Will only. “Are you certain that’s what you want, dear?” he asks. Will nods and holds his gaze steady.
“Well, alright then!” Chilton acquiesces a little too readily. Despite his supposed misgivings, a bit too much like a man whose birthday has just come early, and twice in a row now. He leads the way to the maximum security wing of the hospital, explaining the rules about not getting too close to the bars—or plexiglass in Gideon’s case—or passing along anything that could potentially be used as a weapon in a giddied rush.
Chilton leaves them at the gate to the ward—“Barney will buzz you in and out whenever you’re ready.”—and rushes back to his own office, undoubtedly eager to put on those headphones Will had noticed at his desk and listen in without missing a moment of what’s to come.
The orderly stationed there smiles kindly at them both and unlocks the gate as promised, a loud “Bzzzzt” and brief flash of red from the signal light above announcing their entrance to the entire ward. Will doesn’t get much of a good look at the occupants of the other cells down the corridor as they walk past, his father making sure to place himself between him and the row of cells and subtly shield his smaller frame from view. From what little he does glimpse, most of them seem to be asleep anyway. He wonders if they’ve all been sedated because of the recent “excitement” going on and frowns.
There is a single plastic chair set out in front of the last cell at the end of the corridor, likely left behind there after Agent Crawford’s visit. Why would the FBI be investigating an open-and-shut murder case at the hospital instead of the regular police anyway? Something to ask Daddy about later when they get out of here.
“Frederick didn’t tell me I should expect another visitor so soon,” a familiar voice drawls as they approach, waiting until Hannibal’s shiny oxfords and neatly pressed trousers come into view of the glass barrier between them to speak. As they reach the chair, Dad turns in place to face him before Will does—intentionally giving the boy one last private moment to gather himself, Will assumes. “You another G-man, yet another shrink, or some plucky reporter looking for a scoop? Judging by those glad rags, I’ll take the middle door for five hundred, Alex!”
“Not a bad guess. I am in fact a psychiatrist,” Hannibal replies. “However, this visit isn’t for me.” It’s now or never then. Pushing his glasses up, Will steps out from behind his father’s back and turns to face the man who brought them all to this moment for the first time since last year.
Gideon’s eye widens as Will steps into view. That’s the first thing the boy notices, before the empty white-washed walls of his cell or his ugly blue jumpsuit or the slight weight gain likely brought about by the fantastic cocktail of drugs he’s undoubtedly on. His eye. Singular. The other one—whatever is left of it—is hidden behind a strapless medical eye patch.
Will feels a vicious little smile tug up the corners of his lips before he can bite it back, and decides to hide it quickly behind another one—polite, diffident, unassuming. His father’s smile. Similarly, with Daddy’s unflinchingly good manners, he greets, “Hello, Dr. Gideon.”
Gideon smiles back, and it is not polite at all. “Well, well,” he says, already fully recovered from his momentary shock. “If I’d known this was going to be a cozy little reunion, I’d have put on my fancier suit and tie. Whatever brings you here, little lad?”
Making another snap decision, Will decides to go for full honesty while keeping his well polished smile intact. “I just wanted to look at you in here.”
Gideon barks a loud laugh that echoes and distorts slightly as it bounces against the glass, clapping his hands together once in another unbridled expression of delight. “Beats a trip to the zoo, eh, don’t it, kid?” He glances to Hannibal again and jerks a thumb at him. “This your old man then?”
Will inclines his head just barely in the tiniest of nods. Gideon turns then to give Hannibal a mocking bow. “Salutations! What a pleasure it is to finally be introduced, Dr…Graham?” he queries, understandably taking in the man’s appearance and deciding he looks much too bougie to be called something like Graham. The last time they met he didn’t even know Will’s last name. He must have learned it around the time he was formally presented with the charges pressed against him.
“Lecter,” Daddy corrects placidly.
“Ooh la la, there’s a story here, isn’t there?” He looks back at Will again with another mean smile. “Though I guess I can’t really say I’m too surprised.”
Will digs his thumbnail into his palm where his hands are clasped in front of him, refusing to let his calm and polite demeanor flag and give away that Gideon’s subtle dig at his mother gets to him at all.
“Well, you’re here,” the man sighs when he gets no reaction, spreading his hands wide. “You’ve looked. I suppose that means you’ll be toddling off just as quickly as you came, yes?” He sounds genuinely disappointed.
“Why did you kill that nurse?” Will asks. Daddy tilts his head to look at him but otherwise gives no reaction, just as he didn’t when Will insisted they stay. Like maybe he expected this.
Gideon gives him a slow blink and an even slower smile, no longer mean but still decidedly off. He rests the length of his arm to lean casually against the glass between them and asks, “Did dear Frederick put you up to this, Willy, my boy?” Beside him, too subtly to be noticed by the one-eyed man, Hannibal bristles.
“No, I was just wondering.” Gideon continues to level him with that same creepy stare, no longer blinking.
“You’re different, kiddo,” he says rather than give Will an answer. “You know, it’s funny, when you stepped into view from behind your old man—ten out of ten, by the way, for really putting the drama into that dramatic entrance, c’est magnifique—but when I first saw you, for one crazy second there I honestly thought you were her. I don’t know if you’ve been told this before, but the resemblance is truly uncanny.”
This time he does happen to glance at Will’s dad in time to catch the clench of his jaw and the oblique flatness of his gaze. His grin widens before his eyes cut back to Will. “I noticed it right away when we met, of course, but it wasn’t just the looks back then that made you like another little Eleanor in miniature, oh no. It was the attitude. You really had her trick down pat, though I don’t think either of you knew it then. Dr. Lecter here knows what I’m talking about, I’m sure.”
Daddy straightens subtly as Gideon once again shifts focus, taking a step back from the glass to gesture with both hands. “You know, that demureness, that, ah…” Here Gideon lets out a breathy sigh as he ducks his head and bats his one eye with exaggerated meekness. “‘No, don’t look at me, but really, oh please do, for I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.’ You should have seen the pair they made together, daddy-o.”
Daddy’s face has gone completely expressionless by this point. Will shifts awkwardly on his feet before forcing himself to still, at a loss for words.
“But now look at you,” Gideon says with his full unwavering attention back on the teen once more. “Oh, you’ve still got your mama’s good looks, don’t get me wrong, but look at you! Standing straight and tall, knowing what you want and what to say and exactly how to say it, almost like…”
His gaze flits between the two of them again before he straightens up and clasps his hands together, feet apart just so, and Will realizes without looking that he’s copying both of their postures. The man on the other side of the glass giggles. “Oh, that’s really something.” His mocking grin is just for Hannibal. “He’s really something, isn’t he, doc?”
Hannibal chooses to ignore him altogether now, turning to face his son directly. “Will?” he inquires simply.
Will nods. “Yeah, we’re done here,” he says softly. With barely another glance at the man behind the glass, he turns and Hannibal turns with him, once again putting himself between Will and the inmates on the other side of the hall as they walk back to the gate.
“Do come see me again sometime!” Gideon yells after them cheerily. “My door is always open for you, lad!” Will’s sure he doesn’t imagine the way Daddy’s grip on his arm tightens just the tiniest bit.
They have to pass Chilton’s office on their way back to the front entrance. To no one’s surprise, he’s there leaned against the doorjamb, waiting for them, and practically springs up to meet them in the middle of the hall before Will can try to subtly gesture to his dad that they should just keep moving past him without saying goodbye.
“That was incredible!” he declares effusively. His enthusiasm ironically reminds Will a little of the man’s own patient, making him nearly cringe. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get Abel Gideon to say anything of real substance? Oh sure, most of that was his usual malarkey, but it was so revealing of those inner depths he normally keeps very well hidden nonetheless, especially right there at the end.” Almost unconsciously, his gaze sweeps over Will more probingly than it ever has before, as if trying to figure out then and there what it is about him that Gideon seems to find so interesting.
“Thank you for allowing us to drop in, Frederick,” Dad says politely, leaving Chilton oblivious to the hidden frost in his tone.
“No, thank you for coming here! You’ve given me an entirely new angle to approach from in our next sessions.”
Daddy doesn’t start the engine right away when they get back to the car, taking a moment first to grab Will’s hand and squeeze lightly. Will smiles over at him and squeezes back.
“I’m okay,” he reassures him, and finds that it’s true when he reexamines himself and how he’s feeling more closely.
Daddy nods tightly and doesn’t let go for a moment. When they do eventually pull out of the parking lot, he keeps his eyes mostly on the road and is curiously silent for the rest of the drive.