12. Mea...culpa?

[orderfromchaos]

[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?

Comments

[orderfromchaos]

I'm working on that part!

The admiral, maybe? If you ask. It can't be that different than rebooting everybody after a breach. And Iris thinks Jean could, maybe.

[deshabille]

Jean first. [She trusts Jean more than she trusts the Admiral.]

If this doesn't work, I'm going to be very annoyed with you.

[orderfromchaos]

I'll ask her.

[So contrite]

[deshabille]

Good.

[She thinks of saying something like he's mine, you know, but thinks better of it. He'll find this later and would use a comment like that as a crowbar.]

Is your face all right?

[orderfromchaos]

Yeah, I heal quick.

[He thinks about saying he didn't get any chunks off, which is actually the operative condition. But he's aware that Hannibal can see this later too, and even if Hannibal has sort of figured out how that works thanks to the scars from Maddie shooting him, Dillon doesn't see any reason to spell it out.]

[deshabille]

Good.

Hmm. And, Dillon?

[orderfromchaos]

Yes?

[deshabille]

While he's there with you. Don't talk to him. Don't make him talk to anyone else. He deserves a lot of things, but that doesn't mean it's your right to give them to him.

[orderfromchaos]

He's gonna talk to me.

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

I won't push anything.

[deshabille]

Then ignore him.

Good. Don't.

[orderfromchaos]

[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?

[deshabille]

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.

[orderfromchaos]

[He shrugs a shoulder.]

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