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Yes, I know. [Alana discussed with him, at length, the plans she'd had for Will's many animals, detailing precisely where each one would go and how - somewhat optimistically in Hannibal's opinion - she would one day return them to their rightful owner. She'd practically reeked of guilt as Hannibal poured her a glass of her specially brewed beer, insisting with a great degree of certainty that Will's circumstances, such as they are, aren't her fault.] They'll be well taken care of in your absence, Will. I assure you.

Edited 2014-01-07 23:00 (UTC)

Will was going to miss his dogs, but this right now--being guilty of something he didn't do. "...Why...thank you..." He swallowed hard, unable to look at the man sitting before him without the urge of shouting out and trying to convict the real man who deserved to be in his current situation, "...Doctor...Lecter..." He could feel his internal organs shaking, how can this happen? How could he be so--stupid?

He looked up at the male before him, trying to suppress his feelings and the urge to even ask how he did this? How could--someone he actually trusted, "...why?" Was all Will could ask, his eyes burning into Hannibal, not budging away as his hands gripped harshly into the arm rest of his chair, "...Why, Dr.Lecter...?" No one was listening to them, they were alone until the police came back to pick him up from his session. At least an answer will do, right? Any sort of conclusion to this situation.

You were very sick, Will. As I'm sure someone has already explained to you, the right hemisphere of your brain was inflamed. [Temporary insanity. That's the phrase that's being bandied about by the FBI in order to explain away the... inconsistencies in Will's behaviour, the uncharacteristic violence of his supposed crimes. It seems a conversation about Will, already rare to begin with, can't be broached without it.] There was nothing you could have done to prevent it.

Will was sure that Hannibal wasn't going to play the same game as he did with the FBI, he was sure he wasn't going to but--here he was, playing the same game, "Dr.Lecter, you and I both know that I was sick--but I wasn't that sick...we both know, that you are the one who should be in my position. Not me. You." He wished that Hannibal had just killed him than let him get into this, messing with his mind, tricking him to even believing that this man was on his side, "...you really did well Dr.Lecter...you really did well." He whispered before finally closing his eyes, placing his hand over it to get the seared image of Hannibal in his brain. How he wanted this man dead right now, oh how he can imagine it right now, killing Hannibal. Of course he could, he always could see a crime scene through the eyes of the killer, "...tch...hehe..." He choked out a chuckle before sinking into the chair, "...so were you ever on my side? Was everything a lie? Because I mean surely you can see why I think that--I think everything you did the moment you met me--was to use me to get me into where I am today..." He moved his hand away from his eyes, looking at Hannibal with cold malice. He couldn't touch the man, oh no he couldn't do that, if he did then he would be digging deeper into his own grave. He had to do everything in his power to stay away from Hannibal physically and only pick at him--mentally.

I'm still on your side, Will. Even now. [Despite all the ammunition he has against him, all that knowledge that Hannibal would purge from him if he could.] When Jack first approached me I admit I was curious about you. Morbidly, perhaps.

But I never wanted this for you, Will. I only ever wanted to see you functioning at your best.

"I don't know if I can take your words Dr.Lecter..." Really, after all they've been through and how it ended? How could he? "...Dr.Lecter, you really did push me to make me function to the best--sadly you didn't push me enough that my best came before I was shot by one of..." Whom made him get into this--if he didn't get into this. Will felt like he was breaking down, his eyes finally looking away from Lecter as he looked at the floor, "..." He was loss at his words, if Jack didn't get him involved, if he didn't push him and if Will was strong enough to say no--, "...shit." He buried his face into the palm of his hands, burying them to block out any visuals.

It's alright. [Despite Will's accusations, unfounded though they appear, Hannibal is careful to remain calm in the face of them. He doesn't move except to lean further back in his chair, his notebook balanced on his knee, and watching Will from a measured distance. It isn't like it was before. Before he would have reached out to clasp Will by the shoulders, to bolster his confidence, perhaps pour him something to drink.]

If anything, I think we pushed you too far. I knew you were suffering from delusions and yet I did nothing to prevent you from - [Hannibal releases a steadying breath.] - losing yourself. I didn't insist that you seek treatment as I should have.

But you cannot blame me for the deaths of those people, Will. Any more than you can blame yourself. [In Will's case, there can be no proof of any real intent. Hannibal's made certain of that.]

Will could feel his stomach dropping, this man before him--had the entire FBI under his hand and the FBI? Will never trust anything he, Will, said anymore. Not until he had the smoking gun, bullet, body--finger print--a red-handed scene which will never happen. "...what can you do...?" Will asked, it wasn't as though that Hannibal had clipped every possibility of Will ever getting freed. He lost everything, and as painful as it was, the only thing that was willing to even listen to him and take him in for a moment of their time was--, "...Dr.Lecter?"

No one was on his side anymore, Hannibal wasn't either but--he was the closest man to a friend he was going to have in a long time, and Will was going to use that as an advantage, "...please Dr.Lecter...please do tell me what you suggest I can do?" As much as Will wanted to throw himself at Hannibal and beat the confessions out of him in some way--Will couldn't.

I don't suggest you plead guilty. [He won't need to, not when the evidence against him is stacked so high, teetering precariously over Will's head.] You can't, not when you have no memory of the crime.

But you must at least accept the possibility that, in your altered state, you had begun to act outside of your conscious control. If you keep insisting that you weren't involved - [He was, after all. Hannibal made certain of it, made sure that Will fell so deep inside the rabbit hole that he'd never be able to find his way out of it again.] You sound as though you're in denial.

There's no cameras in Hannibal's room, there's no way in hell can anyone find out what goes on in here unless one of them tells--Will was up, his hand had shot out and gripped Hannibal's collar, tight and strong as he glared into the male's eyes, "...you..." His entire body was shaking, he knew that the only man who can get him out of this situation was the man before him but--that wasn't going to happen. He was going to jail--but he wasn't going to confess. He'll be found guilty no matter what, but he wasn't going to admit and confess to something he didn't do. He didn't do it. He didn't. Will didn't do this at all. He couldn't have. He didn't. He didn't do it. "...you have no idea..." His hand shook, his legs shook, his entire body was shaking, "...but I'm sure you do...Dr.Lecter. I'm sure you know that I am in denial.." He growled before slowly falling onto his knees, his grip upon Hannibal's collar loosening, "...why did this happen? I trusted you." He shouldn't have, "I thought you were my friend." He never was, "..." His hand rested against his sides as he now leaned back against the side of Hannibal's chair, his eyes almost emptily looking at the endless books before him, "...why not just, kill me?"

Will. [A hand finds Will's wrist, pinching only slightly as Hannibal moves to restrain him, his fingers slipping habitually to press against the artery. He counts the rapid beat of Will's heart.] Will. Listen to yourself. Look at what you're doing.

[He stands then, inadvertently pressing closer, invading Will's space much as Will had invaded his.] If I didn't know any better, Will, I'd say you were beginning to sound paranoid.

Will felt Hannibal pressing close, himself feeling like a test dummy as he didn't make any effort to move away, "...it's not paranoia if I know what I am thinking is right and I have the right to fear you, Dr.Lecter. You really do have your way of manipulating my thoughts, my words and even those around me..." If Will didn't take Jack's job offer, if he pressed to not meet up with Hannibal--but that was impossible. Hannibal knew how to get into his life, it was like a pack of carnivorous ravens in a Stag's clothing. "...you could kill me right now, and dispose of my body so no one can find it...can't you?" His eyes finally looked over at Hannibal, looking into it as to find just the tip of the answer, "...just between you and me...I'm sure you can, somehow...I don't know how but...I'm sure you can."

Edited 2014-01-08 04:32 (UTC)

Yes, Will, it's true. Anybody could kill anyone at any time. But - [Here, he uses Will's distraction to his advantage, using his hold on his arm to carefully steer him back towards his chair. He eases him backwards as lightly as a scent caught on a breeze.] - only if the intention is there.

Will felt the chair, he could feel Hannibal's touch, but he felt empty inside. He had been since he started to figure everything out, "...but not anybody can kill anyone and get away with it..." He muttered, holding Hannibal's right wrist so he wouldn't be able to retreat, "You aren't human, Dr.Lecter." He leaned close to whisper into his ear, "...you are the monster, just as Hobbes was...except you are the monster that's going to get away."