Chapter Text
~~~
Will was blindfolded. The smooth material securely wrapped around his head and covered his eyes completely, plunging him into darkness. His glasses were gone. A distant numbness still flooded his brain, his mind shrouded in a fog that was reluctant to break away.
He was sitting upright, but instead of a soft car seat it felt more like he was in a hard, uncomfortable chair. Shifting in place, he tried to stretch out his legs only to be brought up short. There was a clink, metal on metal. He became aware of something circling his ankles and wrists. Handcuffs then. Better that than rope or chains. Those spoke of something far more... permanent.
"Hello, Will."
His entire body tensed, leaving him frozen. There was someone across from him. This man hadn't been in the alley, not unless he had been the silent driver. Licking his lips, he tried to relax. It wasn't that difficult with his limbs feeling as fluid as they were. "...Hello."
Something touched his face and he flinched back, startled and glad when whatever it was didn't follow. "I'm just taking off the blindfold." That was the man in the business suit. When he reached for him again, he let him. The fabric whispered against his skin as it was pulled forward.
Blinking in the sudden light, Will found that he was in a small room. He'd been right about the chair; it looked like something from an office waiting room, curved grey plastic held up by thin metal legs. In front of him was a rectangular table. He was alone on one of the longer sides. There was an empty chair at either end, and then three more across from him. Those were occupied.
Business suit sat on the left, the woman on the right, and the third unknown man in the middle. There were no pheromones coming from any of them, so they were either all betas or wearing patches. None of them spoke as they watched him take in the room.
After a few more minutes of unnatural silence, the man in the middle cocked his head to the side. "...Well, you're a strange one, aren't you? You don't seem very worried. Haven't even asked any questions."
Will glanced to a spot on the wall to his left. "Would you have answered them if I did?"
He chuckled, eyes thinning with amusement. "Why don't you find out?"
The woman protested, turning to face him. "Dr. Gideon-"
"Quiet, Natalia. I want to hear what he has to say." His voice was strangely melodic as he waved a hand in her direction, like shooing a gnat away. She shut her mouth but clearly had more to say. That told him more about the situation than anything. The man, Gideon, had more authority than Natalia or Suit, probably an Officer. Looks like he'd gotten the attention of the higher ups after all. "Go ahead."
Instantly he was overflowing with inquiries. Why had they felt the need to drug him? Where was this? What were they going to do to him? Each question was ultimately discarded as unlikely to be answered or something he could piece together on his own. He finally settled on one of the simpler, yet highly important ones. "...How long have I been unconscious?" If his patch stopped working while he was here then he would be in serious trouble.
Gideon's gaze sharpened with intrigue. "That is hardly the first thing I'd expect you to ask, but fair enough I suppose. It's been around... Let's say two hours?" He locked his hands together and placed them on the table in front of him, easing back. "Next?"
Will eyed his loose posture with envy, his body beginning to grow stiff from holding him in the same position. The best he could do to relieve it was to squirm a bit. "Why am I here, Dr. Gideon?"
"Abel, please." He leaned forward, the smile on his face coming easily even if it lacked any actual mirth. "There's no need for last names between us, not yet. But... in case one should arise, what is yours?"
"Graham." There was no harm in telling them. He had a feeling that they already knew more about him than they were letting on. He could tell that both his burner phone and cell phone were missing, their weight absent from his pockets, and while there was nothing to find on the burner there was obviously a lot to find in the other.
"Will Graham." There was something knowing in his tone that confirmed his suspicions, not that that was any help. "Now that you've answered my question, let me answer yours. Lately you've been very busy, haven't you? Several of my men have been raising a fuss about you, all good things, might I add. But they couldn't tell us much. Just a first name, Will, a number to call, and an idea of what you do. So we got a little curious, and here you are. Think of this as an interview." The smile was more genuine now.
"And what exactly am I being interviewed for?" He knew what he wanted it to be, but that didn't mean that was what it was. The Chesapeake Rippers were a massive criminal empire. One spot was available, yes, but so were countless others.
Giving a thoughtful hum, Abel moved his hands from the table to his stomach, folding them across it and tipping his chin up. "What do you know about the Rippers? I assume you must know something as you were the one who sought us out."
Thinking quickly, he decided to give generic information that almost anyone would know. "The Rippers are one of the nation's most influential mobs. You tend to be mysterious and no one knows how you operate. It's mostly rumors that get passed around. They say the Chesapeake Ripper is your head."
"They say a lot of things. I've heard some stories so fantastic they bordered on becoming fairytales." His tone lilted up into something light and casual, but his eyes held a gleam. "And as for the Chesapeake Ripper being our head... Do you believe it?"
Will paused, considering what his answer should be. If he said yes, would that seem off to them? He didn't want them to think he had a motive for coming that was directly tied to the Ripper, not if he could avoid it. That would just throw everyone's guard up. At the same time, he'd been the one to mention the Ripper in the first place, so logically he would believe it. To back out now would be stupid. "...I do."
"Really." Abel's voice dripped with satisfaction. "Then the Rippers are a dangerous bunch indeed. For all you know the Chesapeake Ripper could be in this very room."
Cautiously, he shook his head. "No, I don't think so."
"No?" Arching a brow, he frowned slightly. "What makes you say so?"
There were several obvious answers to choose from, ranging from lack of scent to the mannerisms of those in the room, but as an average man who wouldn't have any experience with the Ripper's distinct profile he took the safest route. "Intuition."
A door quietly opened behind him.
"Is your intuition always such a certain thing?"
Time stopped, or his heart did. Two scents, both strongly alpha, mingled in the air, but only one of them had him instantly captivated. This was it. This was his True Mate, the first time he had smelled him in three years. It was like a weight he hadn't even known he was carrying had been lifted from his shoulders. He was suddenly grateful for his bonds, because every last fiber of his being was screaming for him to rip off the patch on his shoulder and in that moment he would've given in. A strangled whine was building in his throat and had to be swallowed down immediately. His body was doing everything in its power to attract his mate. Most of it he could control, but when he thought of how close he was to what he'd been missing for six heats, how fresh waves of that scent were rolling over his skin... He was glad to be on his period, because without a tampon he would've been sitting in a pool of his own slick.
It took him a few seconds to remember that he'd been asked a question. Luckily he could play it off as being startled. Focusing was going to be so much harder now, the pheromones lacing the air a frustrating combination of calming and maddening. "Not always, but often enough for me to trust it."
As he'd thought, two alphas came around to the remaining seats. He was already facing the left, so he saw the woman first. Her attire was casually elegant, a robin's egg blue loosely ruffled blouse and grey pencil skirt, and her icy gaze caught his own for a brief second before he could look away. Perfectly coiffed blonde locks neatly framed her face. She carried a minty smell, somehow reminding him of a cold stream thawing out at the start of spring. "Mr. Graham." Her delicately shaded lips settled into a professional smile. "I am Dr. Du Maurier and this-" She swept a hand toward the chair opposite her. "-Is Dr. Lecter."
Holding his breath, he turned to follow the motion. There was no way of knowing what he would find.
The Chesapeake Ripper, his True Mate, was already picking him apart. Dark eyes shone with keen intelligence and catalogued him, gliding from his head to his toes. He was foreign, with high cheekbones and a slim nose that lent him a patrician look. It was furthered by his three piece suit, the jacket, vest, and trousers slate checked with threads of silver while his shirt was powder gray. The tie and pocket square were, in contrast, bright, satiny red. His ashen hair had been methodically gelled back, not a single strand out of place. Broad shoulders spoke of the alpha's musculature that hid beneath the folds of his clothing, the only tanned skin showing that of his neck, face, and hands where they were clasped together in his lap. Thin, pale lips twisted appealingly as he spoke, an accent curling around the words and drawing him in. "Do you trust it now?"
"I think..." Will's omegan side was absolutely purring. Every one of his instinctive desires had been satisfied. His mate was strong, handsome, refined, and would be fully capable of providing for him. Hiding the sheer, primal joy that had wrought was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do. Fortunately enough, he was already well used to ignoring his base instincts in regards to his True Mate. The rational side of his brain was able to put a damper on the celebration meeting his mate had caused, reminding him of the reason he'd come. He had to test him before informing him of their status; it wasn't enough for him to be a good alpha, he had to be a good man. And as a cannibalistic serial killer, he wasn't holding out much hope. "...It needs to reassess."
Inclining his head with only the slight narrowing of his eyes suggesting amusement, Dr. Lecter then faced Gideon. "Abel, how have things been progressing?"
He had barely remembered that the others existed, all of his attention stolen by his mate's sudden appearance, but now that he glanced back to them the change was obvious. Natalia and Suit were both ramrod straight, practically radiating anxiety. While Gideon still held the same carefree attitude, there was a subtle tension in his shoulders that hadn't been there before. If there had been any doubts about the two newcomers' place in the pecking order they would have vanished. "Well enough. We had only just begun when you arrived."
"Ah, my apologies for interrupting then. Where had you left off?"
"Actually, I had been leading up to the reason he was brought here." He pursed his lips before giving another easy smile. "But that might be better done by you, doctor."
"Hmm." Crossing his legs at the knee, he leaned back and fixed Will with a speculative look that he was careful not to meet. "Perhaps. What do you think, Dr. Du Maurier? Should we allow them to continue or step in?"
Will was still facing Gideon, so he was able to see her manicured nail tap against the tabletop from the corner of his eye. "I believe it could prove more conductive for us to take control."
With that the interview was resumed, this time under new management. Dr. Lecter's voice was cordial and level. It was strange to see him wearing a human veil when he knew all too well what lay hidden beyond it. "The Chesapeake Ripper is at the head of this organization. Word of your assistance has traveled to them quickly through certain channels and you have garnered their attention. They wish to offer you a certain position, but only if you are able to meet their standards. Therefore those of us in this room are here to see if you do."
Again Will wished he could do more than squirm in his seat. Then again, if he could stand he would be pacing, and that would give away his nerves. He settled for swallowing dryly and turning to stare at Dr. Lecter's shoulder. "What would this position entail, exactly?"
"Much of what you have already been doing." Tilting his head to one side, he seemed to be watching Will's eyes and mentally following their trail. "Would you mind indulging a curiosity of mine?"
"...No."
"What have you been doing with the bodies?"
He drummed his fingertips against the plastic of the chair. "I live near a pig farm."
He'd been right about the approval. Dr. Lecter had understood immediately, his lips lifting at the corners while his gaze shone with subdued delight. While he couldn't see Dr. Du Maurier's reaction, he could tell that Gideon had also caught on. Suit and Natalia wore their confusion openly, but neither questioned it.
"I see. And the other materials you remove?"
"Hair and clothing are burnt, teeth are crushed into powder and scattered, metals and jewelry are either flushed or thrown away." Shrugging as much as he could, he stopped drumming. "None of it can be easily recovered or connected back to the Rippers."
Fine brows rose. "That is quite thorough of you. In fact, it has been said that your method of finding potentially incriminating evidence is incredibly precise, catching even the smallest of details. It reminds me of something one in crime and trauma scene decontamination might be capable of doing were they to apply their skills to something like this. Do you have much experience in that field?"
He blinked, not expecting things to go in that direction. "In crime scene clean-up? No, I've never worked in that field at all."
"No? Then what do you do for a living?" And suddenly he could see it. Dr. Lecter was a difficult man to read, giving next to nothing away that he didn't want to be seen, and even for his empathy it was like hitting a stone wall. But just now he had tipped his hand. The Chesapeake Ripper wasn't just viewing him as a potential employee; he was viewing him as a potential threat. Things were about to get a lot more dangerous. Will had already been brought into one of their buildings and seen several of their faces, more importantly, learned their names. He would leave this room with the job or not at all.
This question was a trap. He had already confirmed that he hadn't learned how to do this from CTS decon, and any other job interacting with crime scenes would obviously be in law enforcement. It was time for a calculated risk. Lying would only make him seem more suspicious in their eyes and they knew his name now anyway. One quick Google search and he'd be completely exposed. Steeling himself, he looked down to the table and took a deep breath. "I teach psychoanalysis at Quantico-"
Before he could finish his sentence a scalpel was at his throat. He hadn't even heard Dr. Lecter move. "I see. I had been hoping this sort of outcome could be avoided. Unfortunately that is not the case. This is a great disappointment, Will."
His mind was thrown into chaos. One side of him was trying to cling to logic, another was seized with fear, and one of the loudest was, confusingly enough, berating him for upsetting his mate. It was like his omegan instincts honestly didn't believe his True Mate could hurt him. He hadn't even realized that they had been subconsciously telling him that all along. They weren't wrong, in a way. Had Dr. Lecter met him while he wasn't wearing a patch, he had no doubt that he would've recognized their link instantly and he would never have to worry about something harming him again. Any alpha would do their best to protect their mate, but they wouldn't have his alpha's fiercely obsessive nature and deadly prowess.
But he was wearing a patch. His True Mate didn't know about their bond yet and was more than willing to harm him. He could slit his throat and by the time his bloodied scent hit the air it would be too late. He could die here, handcuffed to an uncomfortable chair with this stupid patch on his shoulder. And it would be all his fault.
None of these thoughts flickered across his face though. It was never a good idea to show fear in front of a predator and he still had every intention of surviving. The situation needed to be diffused. "Thirteen."
Blinking slowly, Dr. Lecter simply held the blade at his throat, the edge so light against his skin that it probably wouldn't leave even the indication of a cut. "I beg your pardon?"
"Over the past three weeks I've disposed of thirteen bodies for you." He was extremely mindful of the scalpel as he spoke. It didn't take a large amount of blood to release pheromones, and even a tiny nick could ruin everything. "I removed any incriminating evidence in front of the people who called me, I don't know any names aside from those I've heard in this room, and I've already told you that the bodies are gone. Even if they weren't there wouldn't be anyone tied to them but me. I might work at Quantico, but the FBI doesn't know I'm doing this."
For far too long no one moved or spoke. He hadn't looked away from the space on the table in front of him, but he could feel the heavy weight of Dr. Lecter's scrutiny all the same. Tension crackled through the air and prickled at his skin.
Dr. Lecter stepped away and resettled in his seat, the scalpel disappearing up a sleeve. He was perfectly composed; one would never guess that he'd been threatening to kill him mere seconds ago. "While I appreciate your candor, I cannot help but wonder why I should give you my trust. You have already crossed one group you were aligned to; what is there to stop you from doing it again?"
Will took another deep breath and it was deeply satisfying to know that he could. What had been a necessity was now a luxury. He wondered if the feeling would stick with him until he left. "I've always found double crossing sloppy when it isn't tasteless."
"Do you have trouble with taste, Mr. Graham?" He turned to find Dr. Du Maurier regarding him as one does a pinned insect. The comparison was as unpleasant as it was accurate.
Smiling tiredly, he shifted his weight. "My thoughts are often not tasty."
"And how must they taste for one to betray the FBI?" Her tone was conversational yet cold. She was attempting to peel away the layers he was hiding behind. "What motivates you to do this?"
"I have a large house, seven dogs, and make a teacher's salary. I could use more money in my account."
She thinned her lips, piercing focus unrelenting. "It is my understanding that you have been paid approximately two thousand dollars for each of the scenes you attended. That is hardly a lucrative business considering that the benefits do not outweigh the risks, and not once have you ever tried to request a greater sum. You seem to be an intelligent man, so you should understand why I find it hard to believe that money is your sole motivator. It would be in your best interest to tell us your primary goal."
Hesitating, he decided to try mixing lies and truth. "...Alphas dominate all branches of the FBI, whether it's field work or teaching behind a podium. People like me don't. Betas tend to get outshone and omegas face discrimination even there." In his peripheral he could see Natalia frowning sympathetically at his last point. She must have been an omega. That was encouraging, because an omega's presence would help him support his reasoning.
"We can work twice as hard as some alphas and receive no recognition for our work. Promotions to the upper ranks are nearly impossible to get. You have to constantly prove yourself and any weakness is targeted and exploited. Most of the alphas expect you to do anything they want, even the students. If you aren't an alpha then you're out of luck. But I didn't accept that. I wanted my work to be appreciated. Psychoanalysis is a useful tool and I've had more than a few agents ask me to build case-breaking profiles only to conveniently forget to give me any credit." That was definitely a lie. Crawford, the head of the BAU, had barely convinced him, and if anyone refused to credit him for work he'd done he was more than willing to take it up with administration as long as he felt he deserved it.
"It's hard to feel much loyalty to a place like that, where you can't argue or fight back without getting labeled as greedy or being patronized. They don't understand how difficult my job can be. To properly teach about all of these killers I have to understand them and their thoughts. They have me looking at gruesome murders and explaining how and why they're done, and over time I've gone straight past disgusted to apathetic. There wasn't anything I could do about them, not even the ones that hadn't been solved. I tried to become an agent, to make some kind of difference, but got rejected and trapped in a teaching position.
And then I started hearing rumors about how the Rippers accept omegas and betas, all of them saying that it was a level playing field even if there was an alpha at the top. As you can imagine, the FBI doesn't make a habit of hiding generic files from its employees, especially not from teachers. It didn't take long for me to confirm that all genders were able to enter. I wanted in." His gaze rose to her nose. "You know what I did from there."
Dr. Du Maurier had listened intently as he spoke, expression impassive and unchanging. But now that he had finished she was wearing the faintest of smiles. "All of that was fascinating and far more believable, but there is still a particular factor that you have yet to address."
Frowning, he tried to figure out what he had missed. After a beat of silence he gave in and asked. "Which factor would that be?"
"Your timing. I doubt you are unaware of it, but your appearance coincided with the Ripper's... shall we say, sudden need, for someone with your skill set. I would like to know how you knew when to begin."
"I overheard Agent Crawford, the head of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, talking with someone about the body found on the riverbank three weeks ago. They said that he'd been a Ripper and that the Chesapeake Ripper had killed him for a failed body dump. So I thought I would take his place."
"And you do not mind that you would be working under the Chesapeake Ripper?" Dr. Lecter was watching him with hooded eyes, the heat in them enough to burn. Seeing that he had his attention, he slowly stood and leaned in, palms flat on the tabletop. The subtle nuances of his scent intensified, everyone but him and Dr. Du Maurier flinching back. Power freely flowed from his entire body, coiled within and being allowed to seep out. The human veil was lifted just far enough to offer him a taste of what was underneath. Will's eyes were fixed on his tie, the color reminding him of blood as Dr. Lecter's pheromones warned them all of an imminent act of violence. It was as though they were in the eye of a raging storm, unsure of when the danger would arrive but certain that it would. His voice had grown softer in contrast to the spine chilling smell, an unspoken threat lurking in every word. "Even if you are currently face to face with the Ripper himself?"
Trying to ignore the thrill coursing through him from his True Mate's exuded dominance, he glanced up to his chin. He was shivering, but not with fear. "I don't mind at all."
An arched brow and he was straightening out. His scent returned to its neutral state and the pressure was gone as suddenly as it had arrived. "While your composure and determination are suitably impressive, I am still not fully convinced that I can trust you."
Will couldn't deny that he wished whatever had just happened had happened for longer than it did. The brief show of undeniable authority was enthralling, sparks of electricity and arousal still twisting low in his gut. Still, he managed to push them aside and think. "I don't know how much more convincing I can be. I've told you why I came and what my skills are. The rest is up to you."
The slight upward twitch of his lips told him that he'd already decided, but for whatever reason the man was still pretending to be reluctant. "And if I do not find you that interesting?"
For the first time, Will gave him eye contact. Maroon flecked with red stared back, eyes widening incrementally in mild surprise before studying his own with captivation. It seemed that his mate was holding his breath as Will had earlier. Dr. Lecter didn't know it, but they were both feeling the magnetic pull of a bond mate and it was proving difficult to resist. It felt like he was rising and falling all at once, strange and new, but his mind insisted it was as familiar as coming home. The moment stretched on for longer than it should've until he finally tore his gaze away and faced forward again. "You will."
A hushed pause settled over the room. Their temporary connection hadn't gone unnoticed, those in the room watching the exchange and instinctively not interrupting it without knowing why. He could still feel those eyes focused on him, but refused to turn his head. Finally the doctor adjusted his cufflinks and nodded, seemingly to himself. "...You will be contacted. Goodbye for now, Mr. Graham." He and Dr. Du Maurier walked behind him, presumably toward the door.
The moment they did Gideon grinned, the look he was giving him more appraising than anything. "Well, well, well. A strange one indeed. Congratulations, you've passed the interview. It's irrelevant, but I feel that I should warn you that there's no going back now."
Will stared at his nose incredulously. His True Mate was the Boss of Gideon's mob and the Chesapeake Ripper. He would, quite literally, die without him. The idea of 'going back' was so far from his mind that it may as well not exist. "I understand."
"Then it's time for you to go. Ben." He inclined his head to the man Will had been calling Suit.
Ben rose and came around the table, sliding out another syringe. He stopped at his side, frowning apologetically. "Again, business." This time when the needle pierced his skin he was ready for it. He closed his eyes and sank into the darkness with the knowledge of what would be waiting on the other side.
***
Hannibal watched Will Graham go limp in his chair, only opening the door when Natalia began to unlock the handcuffs. He held it for Bedelia before stepping through himself. Neither spoke as they made their way down the corridor, silence hanging between them until they were shut into the elevator.
Bedelia's smirk was anticipated, but managed to irk him anyway. "Hannibal, am I correct in assuming that Mr. Graham has affected you more than you'd thought he would?"
Sighing quietly, he thought back to the stunning blue that had had him enraptured within less than a second. "You are, my dear. I am... not entirely sure how I feel about it. There is something about him that has caught my attention."
"I suppose you will have a chance to find out exactly what that could be once you and he meet again." She crossed her arms, brow furrowing pensively. "...He's hiding something you know."
"Yes, I am aware. But I do not believe what he is hiding has to do with infiltration as we had first thought."
Shooting him a calculating look, Bedelia's tone dipped down into the one she used to broach patients that were about to become difficult. "And yet you do not know for sure. Are you willing to take that kind of a risk to indulge your curiosity for this beta?"
Hannibal went through the entire conversation again, from start to finish. He and Bedelia had been observing from the moment Mr. Graham had entered that room to the moment he was prepared to leave it. He had been unusual to be sure, his responses to the situation entirely different from what others had shown in the past. The reason he had provided for wanting to be here, while cleverly constructed, was false. Hannibal had consulted with the FBI before and was familiar with the dynamics one could find in its halls. While it was true that the field was primarily dominated by alphas, the levels of gender bias Mr. Graham had cited were not present at all. Whatever the true reason was, the beta was determined to hold it to his chest even when faced with death.
And hadn't that been interesting? He hadn't missed the way his breath had hitched when first seeing him, nor when he had decided to test his resolve with a display of dominance. A light flush had warmed his fair cheeks, blue eyes dark as they dodged his own. At first it had been amusing, but after that parting glance... He wanted to trigger that reaction again.
Was he prepared to take that risk? The smile that stole across his face was wicked and slow. "I am."