empathicfault | IC Inbox

No, that opinion was all me. You weren't angry at him, you were... discouraged. Resigned.

[And she's trying not to sound too distracted, because of course he's right: they have absolutely no guarantee that things are going to sort themselves out when the flood ends. This could so easily be a one-shot chance kind of thing.]

Yeah, you're right. I am mad now, though.

He only got worse. Wriggled me around to try and catch Francis Dolarhyde later on, after I'd been out for three goddamned years.

[ He can feel himself getting animated and stops from expounding on that. They don't need to focus on this anymore- he's got the memory. Better to work on what they need to. ]

Okay, so- you have anything else jumping out at you that's mine? I'm trying to tell if maybe the opposite's true.

I've killed a lot of people.

[She says it matter-of-factly; there's no reason to hide it. Hell, the Barge being what it is, trying to hide it would probably backfire spectacularly if the truth ever came out.]

But, uh-- I was always an efficient killer. I found satisfaction in it, but that was because of the goal, not because of the process. But you-- you've killed people too, haven't you? And you... made statements out of the bodies.

[Or maybe just one body, one time. It's not as if she can tell for sure.]

[ Will is quiet for a long moment. It can't be Randall that Shaw's thinking about, right? Will remembers that one. He must've done it some other time. That seems like something he'd notice as missing. ]

That's...really more of Hannibal's thing. The art pieces.

What did I do?

You didn't kill this one.

[She it slowly, unspooling the memory as she goes.]

But you set up the body afterwards. You thought of it as Hannibal's doing, but-- no, it wasn't him. It was a woman. Chiyoh?

Chiyoh.

[ That really clears up when it could've happened. He feels his throat constrict. He's got a bad feeling about this one. ]

That was at his estate. Her prisoner, the- okay, now I'm seeing the gap. I let the prisoner go, I...knew he'd probably come back.

Sounds like he did.

You thought she might do the job herself. You wanted to see if she could. Yeah?

[ It leaks like an ice cube melting, dripping down into his mind. He knows he was curious. He'd gotten so far into Hannibal's head that it was practically a natural action. And she- ]

She blamed me. And she was...right to do so. I forced her to choose, death or murder.

She didn't shoot him. She stabbed him.

[ He's breathing heavily now, too quickly. These memories- the feelings- are not foreign. But for this brief window of time, he's wishing they were. ]

Yeah, you screwed her pretty bad. And I know you said you don't remember caring about pleasing Hannibal, but the more I hear, dude - it kinda sounds like you might.

[She says it matter-of-factly, with no room spared for trying to be gentle about it. But she hears that rapid, heavy breathing, and she takes a peek at her warden item, checking out where he is right now.]

You doing okay?

I- I had to find him so I could cut him out- but I...

[ He is still in his cabin, now on his couch. He hasn't moved, but what he does do is hang up the connection.

It's a panic response. He can feel things growing out of him, spikes and black feathers. But he'd already done this- he's already done this.

He shoves his communicator under a pillow and resolutely ignores it. ]

[And about fifteen minutes later, he gets a knock on the door. It's not hesitant, and it's loud enough to be difficult to ignore, but it's also lighter than her usual business-like rap: she's trying very hard to avoid making it sound angry.]

[ By the time she makes it there, Will has gotten himself a little more together. He's put on pants, too, which is probably appreciated. He opens the door and stares resolutely at their feet. ]

I don't have it all yet, do I? There are still faded parts.

I'm still having trouble separating out what's mine and what's yours. I feel like I worked for the FBI. But this body was arranged with a lot more, uh... reverence than I did with any of my kills, so I'm pretty sure that part isn't me.

[She just stands there, eyes on his face.]

Can I come in.

[ Will doesn't look up, but he does nod, and he backs away from the door.

Winston takes that as a sign that things are okay and walks up to Shaw with a tentative tail-wag and a sniff at her hand. Will lets out a sigh and sits on the couch. ]

I know I've got to get it back. I just- I'm not sure who I'm gonna be after that happens.

[Shaw offers Winston her hand to sniff, then pats him on the head and nudges him in Will's direction. Go hang with your master, buddy; he probably needs it.]

The same person you were before the flood.

[She says, leaning against the wall.]

Whoever that is, it'll be workable.

[ Winston follows the gesture, moving to lean against Will's legs. Will rubs Winston's neck and gets a couple of licks on his arm back. He nods at Shaw's words, but looks unsure. That last part seems fake. ]

I went to that place to try and find out who Hannibal really was. I had him so much on my mind that I thought it was the only way I could...separate out, his thoughts from mine. I'd felt tainted, by him.

So I went there and I 'did what he does'- as Chiyoh said. I didn't have to. I wanted to. I wanted her to be free from what Hannibal had done to her. But-

[ That wasn't all he wanted. He had been curious, too. He looks pained, as he shuts his eyes. ]

You said the kill felt 'reverent.' Like...worshipping a god?

[ He sounds mildly sarcastic about that idea. He's hoping that's not it. ]

Edited 2023-04-24 17:53 (UTC)

I wouldn't go that far. It was more like--

[It comes to her suddenly, and her fingers fly down and press against the inside of her arm.]

I told you about my tattoos.

[She's finished up the rest of them, now: there are the ones she'd showed him earlier, as well as SEND ME above U.S.M.C.. INDIGO FIVE BETA on the inside of the opposite arm. The little outline of a phone booth on her ankle.]

You putting that body up on display? It wasn't bragging, wasn't trophy-collecting, wasn't something for anybody else but you. It felt kinda like how I felt, doing my tattoos.

[ And that he can understand. A respect. An acknowledgment of what had been done there- no, what had been accomplished. Chiyoh knew what she was capable of, then. And so did Will.

He bites his lip, as he remembers the glass, the snails, the trembling orange of the candlelight. The way he chose mostly natural materials, because that's what he likes.

His shoulders slide back and he stops looking like he's expecting to fight an invisible monster. His breathing evens out. ]

I made him into a firefly. To acknowledge what we'd done, together, there. I think, that's when I actually knew.

[ Will looks up at Shaw, finally. ]

I wasn't trying to cut Hannibal out. I was seeking him out. Because I love him.

[... Ah.

Well, whatever she'd expected, it hadn't quite been that; her eyebrows even jump a little at the revelation. But that said, it doesn't not make sense.]

Okay.

[She says, studying him carefully.]

You weren't sure who you were gonna be when you got this back. How're you feeling about that now?

[ It felt strange to say it outright like that, after years of incremental denials, then resigned acceptance, then joyful but silent acceptance. And he realizes that if he ever sees Hannibal again, he's going to have to say it to that smug, infuriating face.

He doesn't exactly smile, but everything in his body language has relaxed. He looks around his cabin as he thinks about just 'how he is feeling'. He scritches Winston behind the ears, and the dog's tail thumps against the couch. ]

I feel like things make more sense, now. There's 'losing myself', and then there's 'not wanting to acknowledge what I already am'. I was doing the latter.

Okay. And what are you, besides a man who's in love with Hannibal?

I am unconstrained.

[She just raises an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for more. Come on, Will; "unconstrained" can mean a lot of things. Details.]

[ He stares back at her for a moment, then sighs a bit. ]

If I ask you what you are, how do you respond? With your jobs? Your condition? Your moral code?

Sure, all of the above. Me, I'd pick that kind of thing over an adjective.

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