orderfromchaos | 12. Mea...culpa?

[Public, video]

[They're the kitchen of Dillon's parents' house: relentlessly suburban, a few southwestern touches, from the touristy Navajo-ish vase on the table to the sepia color palette, well-coordinated. There are floral magnets on the fridge, and one Hannibal Lecter humming as he makes what appears to be gourmet tomato soup and fresh-baked bread. He's wearing an open lab coat over his suit that he grabbed while attempting to join an infirmary shift, right before Dillon hurriedly hustled him out.]

I kind of...fixed him.

[Not like you fix a car; Hannibal wasn't broken, he was himself. Like you fix a dog.]

I thought it would wear off but it hasn't, and his room is the same so it doesn't count for graduation but I don't. Actually know how to undo it.

He's not faking, either.

[Voice pitched more deliberately across the room, though he hasn't been been whispering or anything; Hannibal could have heard him before if he was listening.

Hey, Hannibal, say sorry to the nice people.

[Hannibal pauses, sets down the wooden spoon and turns to the comm, contrite, shifting, a little uncertain.]

I'm terribly sorry for what I've done. It seems almost unreal, but I do not mean to belittle anyone's suffering. I apologize.

[Dillon waves him back to the soup.]

[Private to Jean]

I'm pretty sure what you do is more. Versatile, than mine. I know it's a lot to ask, but could you check and see if you can reverse it?

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[Well normally Stiles is adamantly against this sort of thing, but. But. Hannibal eats people? And he has a pretty hard time mustering up any sympathy in certain scenarios.]

This ever happened before?

Well I certainly have to say, this isn't very reassuring, considering that before you've made an offer to "fix" me.

[He's coldly sarcastic with an undertone of wary and paranoid accusation.]

i could have made all his skull plates come apart once he got in close enough to strangle me but i was kind of burned out on gore and he would have started healing immediately since i was there

i don't have any control over that part

I know all about not choosing what you are.

That's why I'm angry. I know he's a monster. I'm still angry. I met a man like me who made me drink poison and he had his mind flayed down to the innocent empty center and I didn't like that either.

It's kinder to kill people.

He has not inspired kindness.

[A little husky, raspy. The crux of the matter. He knows death would have been kinder. He withheld it.]

He's gonna talk to me.

[That's part of how it works. Gravity.]

I won't push anything.

Then ignore him.

Good. Don't.

Okay. I won't say anything else. I swear.

[Are you afraid of me now? he wants to ask, afraid more? But she's much harder to read when he can't see her face. And he's not sure he wants to know.]

How many of us have.

I murdered my lover and I turned on my friends when there was a chance I could get her back. I spent the last week days laughing at the fear and the horror everyone was feeling around me.

How bad would I have to be for you to come and 'fix' me? My species is bred for change, but maybe you being so strong it would stick this time!

[He's going vibrantly blue-purple, a panicky threat display.]

That's how it feels. Take all the - hunger and complications away, leave the soul, the base vitality. He still thinks and feels and all - feels more than he did before, probably.

I don't have good words for any of it.

[She understand that. The things she sees in a mind, the things she does - there isn't always a way to explain it. Not by talking.]

I can take a look at him. If you've just repressed those parts, I can pull them back. But if they're changed - that could be more complicated.

[Dillon won't, primarily because he doesn't want to get abducted 'for his own good' again if Hannibal decides it's a symptom of something. But he'll keep his responses neutral and brief.]

Do you want to talk to him before Jean starts working on him or anything?

Why would I? That isn't him. [And now her tone is impassive to the point of coldness.]

Let me know when it's done. Then I'll come.

Shit.

Okay. Okay, this can be fixed. Probably. Are ya all right? Ah can see at least two people comin' down on ya.

[Do you want her to handle them? Because she will freaking handle them.]

[He shrugs a shoulder.]

Just trying to get into the habit of asking. I'll let you know.

[He laughs. A harsh, dry sound, cracking bark. He would really love to tell you that.]

Not here, anyway. The rest of you are safe.

Yeah, well. This is probably one of those 'ends don't quite justify the means' situations.

Yeah. It was an accident, then.

See, you I like. I would put considerable effort into not erasing you.

Who cares? It's Hannibal. He was probably trying to kill you, wasn't he.

[He shakes his head.]

It's okay. It's - I know it's a really messed up thing to do. I ought to take the heat for it.

But thanks.

[It means a lot.]

Yep.

Then I don't see why anyone should care.

Just have the Admiral put him back. Eventually.

I think - it felt like change. Like shaking an etch-a-sketch. But he's still - structurally himself, if not subjectively, does that make sense? His mind is basically the same shape, just organized around a different focal point, energized differently.

Well. Come and see, anyway. One-nineteen. If it doesn't work we can always try killing him.

It's Mal's call, not mine.

You'd be pissed if I did it to Sylvanas, whether she was attacking me or not.

[But he appreciates the attitude, Zane.]

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12. Mea...culpa?

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