Chapter Text
Will Graham walked into a church where he was alone in hallways until he heard singing coming from behind closed doors. The lights were warm while the walls were beige and decorated for the Winter. It At the end of the hallway were two wide doors that taunted him. He looked through the small door windows and waited. He hesitated to put his hands on the handle but after a moment, he gently pushed and wormed his way in without interrupting the service.
Curious but uncomfortable; He felt like an unholy being stepping foot onto holy ground, ready for God to open those same doors to strike him down for trespassing at any moment's notice. Will hadn’t gone to church or attended a service of any kind except for when his mother died. That was years ago, too long to remember what the service was like or what the surrounding area looked like. He only remembered the discomfort and how morbid it seemed to see his mother at her open-casket funeral. Her warm and ruined image burned into his mind, and nothing would ever help him forget her. Even in death, she wasn't allowed peace. He remembered the pain it brought him and suddenly, his eyes watered though the tears didn't flow.
He opted to stand behind a pew closest to the door. He made sure he'd be ready to leave at any moment. He stood there for the remainder of the service.
A small church made the surrounding town feel much bigger with the amount of people crowding the space.
Will stared at the pulpit where the priest spoke, an older man with ash brown hair and low prominent cheekbones. Will caught the priest glancing at him and each time Will looked away. He studied the walls, the ceiling lights, ceiling windows, and the stained-glass windows. He admired the artwork. When people stood to shake hands and offer each other peace, Will felt lost and out of place. He didn't belong but he did what was asked of him though he hated having to look and touch the people around him. It was overwhelming. He wanted to run out of there and go straight home but he stopped himself. He shook his neighbors' hands and offered peace, without looking directly at their eyes, instead opting for their cheeks or chins. He even donated fifteen dollars for each of the two times the basket went around.
At the end of the service, the priest thanked everyone for being there by shaking their hands and offering them a gentle smile at the doors.
Will was the last one to leave but not because he didn’t want to leave but because he felt like he couldn’t. Something forced him to stay, however unsure of what kept him. He decided to link it to a trauma response of seeing his mother in a casket at a church similar to the one he was at and being at a church had brought him many painful memories. The priest pulled out a little container of hand sanitizer and used it once he finished shaking people's hands. The priest saw Will had waited for everyone else to leave, intrigued by the new church goer, he walked up to Will while providing a serene smile and habitually extended his hand out.
“Peace be with you, my son.” Will avoided eye contact, substituting it by glaring at the priest’s chasuble then eyed the priest's hand.
He hesitated for a brief moment, "I saw you use the hand sanitizer; I prefer you didn't have to use it again." A kind protest and the priest smiled again, grateful.
"Nonsense, my son. Shake my hand." Once again, Will hesitated but when he shook the priest’s hand, he felt a sense of calm along with a wave of something familiar. He couldn't pinpoint what that specific wave was but he replaced it with the thought of Hobbs. Hobbs at a church with his daughter and his wife, sitting like the perfect family and spreading the word of God.
“Thank you, father.” He said, nervous but his tone was soft and apologetic.
The priest, used only his eyes, quickly looked Will up and down. He said, “I’m Hannibal Lecter but please call me Father Lecter,” meanwhile taking note that this was the gentleman that kept looking away when their eyes met during the service. Curious of the gentleman, he asked, “What brings you to our church today?” Hannibal admired the gentleman's attire, who wore a brown button up with the very first button, unbuttoned and his shirt tucked into his pants.
Will gulped, blinking away the discomforting knot that grew in his stomach. "I'm not sure. I...I just needed some peace, I suppose." Hannibal’s dark brown eyes studied the man in front of him and locked eyes on the brown waves in front of him. Will pursed his lips then slightly parted them and Hannibal could tell the gentleman wanted to say more but stopped himself.
“Some find solace in unexpected places, like a church for example. Please, sit with me.”
Hannibal sat down and Will joined him in the pew, they were a foot or two apart from each other. They allowed the silence of the church to envelope them for a moment and Will savored the silence as it echoed around them. The tranquility gave him the opportunity to relax while he gazed at Hannibal’s well ironed attire and broke that silence, “I used to work for the FBI as a criminal profiler for the BAU.” Hannibal was intrigued, he wanted to press for more information, he wanted to bombard Will with questions. Most importantly, Hannibal wanted to know why a criminal profiler, who seemed so uncomfortable in a welcoming space and assumed to have never once set foot in the church, decided to come mid service.
He pressed on, “Used to? What made you leave such a career?”
Will, continuing to avoid eye contact by staring at Hannibal’s attire. He gave away a troubled expression.
He never really enjoyed conversation with others, but he weirdly felt okay with revealing that information and more with that priest. Something about his presence and not just as a priest, comforted him. Hannibal knew he would revel in the information revealed to him, “There was a crime scene- I don’t know how much you’ll be able to handle, so please stop me if I go too far.”
Hannibal nodded with a sincere smile.
“I had a run in with the Chesapeake Ripper,” Will quickly examined the priest’s eyes then back down to his collar, “the crime scene was…It felt different somehow. Like, he was bored and lost interest. By standing at the scene and simply looking, I could tell he…he gave up.” Hannibal’s smile widened slightly, there was a hidden glint in his eyes.
He raised his eyebrows, “I know about the Chesapeake Ripper! I’ve read the articles about him. I didn’t realize he had left another murder in his path. He’s a vile and interesting individual, now sloppy it seems,” Will narrowed his eyes on Hannibal, inching his way towards his eyes. “Unfortunately, there is much darkness lurking in the hearts of men. Let us hope this darkness in the Ripper ends with the scene you witnessed.” Will’s expression softened and their eyes met for a brief moment. Will caught himself and quickly looked down, lost in thought. Hannibal enjoyed the thought that this specific criminal profiler could tell the Chesapeake Ripper had lost motivation in the middle of his own murder. “What troubles you, my son?”
Will gathered his thoughts and his tone left no room for any other emotion except for a deep sadness, “I used to be a homicide detective, then I was a teacher, and I was quite bored myself until I became a profiler but now, seeing the one and only Chesapeake Ripper bored and giving up…hurts. Something was wrong and, I guess, I took it personally.”
There hadn’t been a new body in months. The usual three had gone down to one.
In the months that the Chesapeake Ripper hadn’t murdered anybody, Will hoped for another body. He told himself he never liked being at the scene, putting himself in the Ripper’s shoes, and discovering what the Ripper was thinking or feeling. Truth was, he loved every minute of it, he especially loved the intimacy of it. Through the Ripper's eyes, each display was a piece of art, a new painting Will could store in the back of his mind. He dreamt of the Ripper’s artwork, occasionally believing it to be just for him, however, unfortunate that none of them were meant for Will considering they never met before. Their paths have crossed but never face-to-face just like they were at the church. Will enjoyed his work when he helped solve the murders but putting himself in the Ripper’s shoes offered him comfort, pleasure, peace, and a quiet lonely emptiness without judgment or fear.
He didn’t want to kill anybody but being at a putrid scene and being able to feel absolutely nothing allowed Will to find solace. Hannibal wondered why Will might have thought the art was for him and why Will took it personally that the Ripper decided to give up.
Hannibal asked with a neutral expression, “Would you prefer the Ripper continue murdering?”
As much as Will wanted to scream yes, he instead exclaimed, “God, no! Sorry, it’s just- it’s hard to keep going when I’m stuck looking at other bodies and it's depressing enough then I come to find that the one person I’m truly after…gives up mid-murder.” Hannibal wondered why Will claimed he needed some peace. It wasn’t peace he was after but answers to all of his questions. Instead of a psychologist or committing a murder to contact the Ripper, he went to a church of all places.
Hannibal's tone was cold and curious, “My son, you seem deeply intertwined with this Ripper.”
Will scoffed, “A complex unrequited love. Deeply one-sided.” Hannibal raised his brows and Will looked up at him, both of them were filled with curiosity and uncertainty. “Forgive me for saying this but…Sometimes, I find myself missing him.” That phrase, missing him, didn’t seem like something Will would reveal. Especially not in an empty church and to the priest of all people. Definitely not the moment he met a priest who allowed him to open himself up. An immediate dump of thoughts and emotions poured on the poor priest who was just doing his job and offering peace and guidance. Will thought he bombarded that poor man with everything he had and wanted to hide in his car. He thought he came off as morbid, leaving the priest speechless. He began to think he must have creeped Hannibal out and decided it was time to leave, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said any of that...I’ve got to go.” Will stood up and Hannibal followed closely.
“Would it be alright if I walked you out?” Hannibal wanted to continue their conversation, but Will only wanted to disappear and hide himself in his car until everybody in the world forgot he existed. Will thought to himself, What a twisted thing to say out loud, sometimes, I find myself missing him?! Insane wording, insane phrasing, insane everything. Will nodded, refusing to disappoint the priest more than he believed he already had. They didn’t talk much considering Will could only think about what he had said and if he could step foot in that church ever again without Hannibal calling the police and claiming Will was The Chesapeake Ripper. He thought Hannibal was only walking him out so he can make sure Will actually left the building and never returned. Hannibal ended up carrying the rest of the conversation. “You’re a very perceptive man. I’m impressed how you figured the Chesapeake Ripper lost interest or motivation just by looking at the crime scene.” Will offered a weak and pitiful smile, the words I’m impressed rang in his ears. He wanted to jump with joy but he couldn't let himself enjoy a simple compliment out of fear of it being a complete lie after what he confessed.
When they reached the front doors, Will looked out into the parking lot and had nearly forgotten that he arrived mid-service at 8:45 P.M. It was dark out and his car was the only one out in the front. Hannibal could tell Will wasn’t feeling as confident as he had when they were sitting down together and offered some words of encouragement, “I believe the Ripper was likely busy or dead, why else would a monster like that suddenly stop murdering people. If he’s not dead, I’m sure he’ll leave behind a new body just for you. Then, we’ll see how this new game of cat and mouse unfolds.” Hannibal offered a gentle smile then Will felt a strangeness in the back of his head. If he were a cat, he’d have hissed and ran away but he wasn't a cat. Instead, Will accepted the smile by staring back and forth into Hannibal’s eyes, searching for something he couldn’t find.
Will was grateful to Hannibal for not making him feel weird and out of place for what he revealed. He clenched his fists and gulped, “Thank you, father, for listening to me. I know what I told you must have frightened you.” Will was ashamed of himself for speaking his thoughts and emotions so freely the very moment he met the priest. He was embarrassed and worried for what Hannibal would say next.
Hannibal’s smile faltered but didn’t disappear altogether. “Trust me, I'm much more forgiving of the unorthodox.” That statement calmed Will's nerves and he unclenched his fists. Hannibal spoke gently to him, "I enjoyed our conversation, I'd like to know more about you, over lunch would be nice." Will agreed but he still didn't fully believe Hannibal wanted to get to know him. He continued to believe Hannibal was just spilling words after words to get Will to leave the building and never return again. He left Hannibal to close the doors and turn off the remaining lights. In the car, Will had let out a deep sigh, one he didn’t realize he was holding in the whole time. He relaxed himself and allowed the release of another deep sigh and a groan to escape him. Being inside the church was a lot more excruciating than he considered it might have been.
He turned the car on and drove home.
Hannibal went back to his office and opened the small closet inside, where he took off his outermost layers, revealing the cassock underneath. A mirror hung on the inside of the closet door where he looked at himself and he smoothed out any wrinkles left behind as best he could. He locked away his bible and a black journal inside a drawer then pocketed the keys. Finally, he locked the church doors and looked around, there were no more cars left in front or in the back of the church. It was dark, cold, and windy and there were hints of snow falling from the sky. He was freezing but he liked the cold, there was something inviting about it. He most definitely liked how the tips of his fingers went numb and when his cheeks stung and felt hot when they were actually freezing.
When he arrived home, he wiped his shoes on the mat then took them off. Placing them gently to the side for the next day. He took his time on his way to the kitchen where he opened the fridge to search for a quick snack before he decided to go to bed. He struggled to find anything that intrigued him, and he hadn’t been able to find anything he had any interest in finishing. Not only that but he didn't care to make something extravagant for himself or for anybody else. Unfortunately, most of his food was left to spoil and rot. He grabbed a small salad out of the fridge that he prepped a few days before and some cured “pork” and cut it into small slices, he did the same to some parmesan.
He sat at the table and glared at the plate, all in complete silence and he thought of nothing. His mind was blank and all he could do was pick up his fork and poke at the salad. He took a bite of the pork and cheese slices and as much as he enjoyed eating long pig, something was missing. The food was bland, sad, and lifeless. His food was never bland, there was always an explosion of flavor and those that ate his food would agree. Another bite was taken out of his salad, and he thought of the gentleman at the church, when he remembered the gentleman knew Hannibal's name but not vice versa. The gentleman did look very familiar, however.
He continued to think about the compelling man's face and stature, recalling every detail of their interaction as he took more bites of his food. Why was Will familiar?
Although Hannibal had an eidetic memory, it took him entirely too long to finally settle on who Will was.
He went to his office where he pulled out a folder of old newspaper clippings from his past crimes. He shuffled through them and found one with Will’s face in it, the FBI consultant who had been struggling to capture The Chesapeake Ripper. In the photo, Will stood at the scene with his eyes closed and fists clenched. He was alone inside the taped off scene while everyone else had been outside waiting for a verdict. Hannibal gazed lovingly at the Journalist name, Freddie Lounds. He quietly thanked her for providing such a detailed photo of Will and his full name, allowing Hannibal to fully assume that the agent he had been dealing with this whole time was now attending his church.
Hannibal was kidding about the Ripper leaving a new body behind just for Will but passion plus excitement struck him. He finally felt motivated once again.