Work Text:
“You knew from an early age you were not like the other children of Earth,” Hannibal says. “Their minds did not echo with the stray thoughts of others, as yours did.”
“I never knew anything different. It was always … I always remember having empathic abilities as a child.” Will says. He’s looking at the PADD on Hannibal’s desk.
“That is rare, even in telepathic species. Betazoids like your mother rarely develop the abilities until adolescence.” Hannibal pauses. “You are unique.” Will rolls his shoulders, looking nowhere.
Hannibal doesn’t smile, but his tone lightens. “Unlike the psychiatry of Earth, I assure you Vulcan psychiatry is not needlessly rooted in an obsession with family. In any case, your childhood doesn’t trouble you.”
“No. Or at least not anymore.” Will takes a sip from the replicated glass of water. He waits for Hannibal to get to his point.
“We’re here because the Captain asked me to … evaluate you. Your mental state. The negotiations are likely to be prolonged and frustrating. He’s just thinking of the mission.” Hannibal says. His hands sit perfectly in his lap.
The expression on Will’s face sours. “I know what he thinks. I know what everyone thinks.” Will’s hands come together, twitching. “They don’t think I can handle another mission after what happened last time.”
“You were almost eaten by an alien species. That is bound to leave its mark.” If Will didn’t know Vulcans better he could swear he felt a tiny current of humor coming from Hannibal. Another pause. “Figuratively speaking.”
“It wasn’t … they weren’t trying to consume me for food. It wasn’t like that. I tried to tell those idiots in the red shirts not to fire but by then everyone was screaming. They were sentient, and they wanted to show me what they felt.”
“They must have felt it passionately, if they felt consumption was their only choice. Vulcans no longer place any emotional emphasis on what we eat, but in ancient times we revered our food like any humanoid species.” Hannibal says.
“The hunt,” Will says, startled. Hannibal inclines his head.
“It has its appeal in many cultures.” Hannibal replies.
“They wanted to honor me. That’s what I meant to them. What I showed them. When one of their elders is too old to be productive, they consume him for his knowledge. The biologists could explain, it has something to do with a viral DNA analogue. The wise make a gift of their body to the young. She was only doing what she felt was right.”
“Starfleet does not make a habit of allowing its diplomats to be eaten.” Hannibal replies, voice steady. He didn’t seem bothered by what Will has said at all.
Then again, he wouldn’t.