empathicfault | PSL: Travels outside the Barge (w/Malcolm)

When Will stills in the doorway, Malcolm stands on his toes to try to look over his shoulder, then cranes his neck to try to see out the window, then looks at his husband with concern.

“Will? What’s wrong?”

Will give him one of a strained smile and steps aside so Malcolm can see. "This is where I changed myself. And where I died. I...didn't mean to bring us here."

He looks slightly lost as he turns back to it. "They weren't able to get all the bloodstains out. Or they gave up on it early."

Malcolm peeks outside, glancing around.

“Does anyone live here now?”

"I don't-" Will cuts himself off and finally steps outside to look at the house their door is embedded in. There's plastic over the large broken window, but some of the tape has gotten loose and one corner billows open. The remains of police tape criss-cross over the front door.

There's no "for sale" sign up, but- "I doubt it. Doesn't look particularly livable, at the moment."

Will's feet are already taking him to the brown bloodstain, most of it washed away. The euphoria of the blood flowing- out of the dragon, onto everything else- it sings in Will's mind like it was just yesterday.

Malcolm follows him. He understands what that stain is made of.

"...What happened?"

Will's mouth opens, and he seems lost in thought for a long moment. Malcolm must be used to it, at this point. "...I don't know whether to give you the clinical explanation or...how I saw it."

Despite this, he pushes forward with some combination of both. "This was a property Hannibal owned. We stopped here, luring the- Francis Dolarhyde. Here. He
was fully subsumed by his Dragon persona by this point. His mind felt...shattered, long before. Hannibal and I waited for the night- the Dragon only strikes under the light of a full moon. When we were about to have our second glass of wine..."

He looks over to the windows. "The Dragon used a sniper rifle, aimed at Hannibal's kidney. It shot straight through and into the wine bottle. He came in, expecting me to go with his plan of killing Hannibal and filming his Becoming. Or maybe not, because he caught me as I pulled the knife from my pocket. Stabbed me here-" He taps the scar on his lower right cheek. "And then picked me up and threw me through that window. -I don't think he'd be able to, now," he adds as he realizes how he's changed in the time since.

Malcolm is always riveted by either type of explanation, but Will’s perspective would win out if he had to choose.

He looks towards the window, then his eyes trail… towards the cliff.

“This happened the night you died,” he whispers as he realizes.

Will nods, the corner of his lip quirking up. "The night I came to the Barge."

He's on a roll now, so he continues. "He advanced on me after I rolled...hell, about ten, fifteen feet? Hannibal somehow got outside silently and jumped up at him like a...very heavy monkey on his back. Gave me time to get up and pull the knife out of my cheek."

He continues through the dance that was the fight, actually making the motions of pulling the knife through the Dragon's guts. "Hannibal tore out his neck in the same motion. This was a man who would kill families in their beds, always two young kids and both parents. He targeted them through their vacation photos. He went after Molly and Walter because I was special." And isn't he, always?

"Not a man I could ever forgive. Not one I would consider for redemption." It's not that he hated the idea of the Barge. But considering everyone on board capable of it seemed preposterous. Trying to keep that sort of positivity on the job had worn on him. "He fell backwards and his blood splayed out like this. He finally got his fearsome wings."

Malcolm walks around the stain now, to examine the pattern on the ground. He also struggled with some of the moralizing on the Barge and how it applied to every inmate but not to every warden. Like only inmates could be bullied.

They've barely stepped beyond it and the relief has been palpable.

He looks over at Will. "You made sure he was dead before you took care of the other monster."

Edited 2025-03-27 15:33 (UTC)

Will's smile in response is rather strained. "Yes. Both of us."

He walks past the large stain, catching the occasional scent of old dried blood, the occasional fleck of his own spillage onto the concrete. It's a little surprising that so much of that washed away.

Hannibal held out a hand as I was crouching in the aftermath, here-" He gestures. "And I took it. I...was enraptured by the scene... -still am, really," he admits. "I pulled him close and told him so. We were both suffering from significant blood loss, but I realized..."

He trails off and licks his lips, then bites them. "I would join him after that. I would...not only participate in murder, I would initiate it. And the close contact would mean-" He finally looks over to Malcolm and there's another smile, one more of relief than anything else. "-I would take on even more of his traits. I'd be something new. Happy with it, but- not entirely me. Not my design." He looks over the edge of the cliff.

Malcolm walks to the edge and looks down. Waves crash over rocks. He looks at Will.

“Do you… feel like you’re the real you now?” he asks. Or does being with anyone make that an impossibility? He watches Will’s face, but reaches for his hand.

Despite the thoughtful look on Will's face, his hand reaches back for Malcolm's. It's just like on the Barge, the way the fingers gently rub Malcolm's before he intertwines them together.

"I am. I feel like...I am defined by the company I keep, whether I want to be or not. The elements I let into my psyche."

His hand clutches slightly tighter to Malcolm's. "And I want you to understand how much you mean to me that I've chosen you. And how honored I am that you've chosen me, in return. No masks between us."

Malcolm smiles softly.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re being… forced to feel a certain way ever again. I want…” He looks at their linked hands, the matching beaded bracelets on their wrists, then he looks up at Will’s face. “I want everything you let in from me to make you feel safe and valued and free and… warm.”

He looks over at the house, then looks at Will again.

“Thank you for showing me the place where doors opened for you… and you chose who not to be.”

"I did, didn't I?" He raises his chin a fraction of an inch, the beginnings of a real, satisfied smile on his face.

Will turns from the cliff, back towards the building. "You do make me feel all those things, of course. All the parts of you. No wonder I've found you addictive."

He smirks slightly and winks, looking over to Malcolm. It's clear he's in a good mood now. Before the trip, he was tense as a piano wire.

"Okay, let's...head to the real destinations. Molly first, then we'll find Jack." As a treat, after the difficult conversation.

Malcolm’s smile at the compliment is almost bashful, but his eyes sparkle brightly at it too.

He glances at the abandoned building as they pass, then looks at Will sidelong.

“How long do you think it’s been since… the cliff?”

Will's eyes shift from their door to the real front door and the windows beyond.

"Hmmm... I'd say six months to a year and a half? That plastic over the window won't last much longer than that. But we can grab a copy of the Herald when we're in town and check for sure."

Edited 2025-03-30 23:31 (UTC)

Malcolm nods, holds Will’s hand a little tighter.

“Do you think Molly thinks you’re dead? Are we going to give her a heart attack?”

"She's got a good heart. She'll be fine," Will replies with a small smirk. "And I'm counting on the surprise, if I'm honest. It'll make the rest of what I have to say a little less unbelievable."

He squeezes Malcolm's hand back, and pushes the door open with his free hand. "I'll take us to a town nearby first. We can do some research before we head over."

They step inside the ship and Malcolm tugs on Will's hand just enough to pull him into a gentle kiss.

"Do you want me to come with you or do you think it'd be better if I stay in town?" Or on the ship.

Will's eyes shut and he allows himself to thoroughly enjoy that kiss, gentle as it is. They can both use some comfort right now.

"I'd rather go off your preference, for that. If you want to be there or not. I know this situation is...well. Insane. And you already have to deal with that enough with the occasional Hannibal intrusion on the Barge."

He starts pulling Malcolm gently towards the console room, just so they don't have to part yet.

“I don’t want to make things awkward for you. And… I don’t want you to be obliged to explain me to her on top of everything else.”

He glances around the controls, then looks at Will.

“And I’m sure I can amuse myself in town,” he says with a small but warm smile.

"It's going to be awkward, either way." He smiles ruefully at the console, as he flips off the trans-dimensional setting and checks the rest of the various settings twice.

"But sure. Still contact me anytime, okay?" The communicator only leaves his pocket when he's answering it, and Malcolm knows that.

The travel goes quickly- nearly instantaneous, even. Apparently, traveling inside a planet is no problem for this thing. The door steps out in an alley next to a small (but bustling) Main Street. Will had decided on one of the nearby mountain towns as a stop, as he'd be less likely to be recognized there.

Malcolm follows Will out, looking around as they emerge into the street. He smiles and looks at Will.

“This is the area where you lived?”

He always enjoys learning more about Will, even if the details are small and/or only Will-adjacent.

"A little to the west of it, yeah. Our space was slightly more suburban..." He looks around, gets his bearings and points down ones side of the street. "That way. Here, follow me."

He leads them across street and to a general store. The front looks new, but it's clear this building (and every other building on the street) has been around since the Gold Rush era. There's a very distinct feeling of shops that have outgrown their space doing whatever they can to for back into them.

The general store is mostly groceries, but also pharmaceuticals, camping, and fishing supplies. Will isn't heading in, however, aiming for the stacks of community newspapers, sitting in between a giant wood-carved bear and the door.

"Thirteen months later," he declares. Then, quieter- "...and under a year until the pandemic, if we're going to have one." He searches for emotion attached to that and finds very little- save an increased desire to convince Molly to leave.

Malcolm watches Will's face, rather than the newspaper. Will can read the date without his help.

"I... wish I could say it wasn't that bad, but... it was so bad," he says with a wince. "That wasn't reassuring," he chides himself. He glances around. "A small town will definitely fare better than a big city," he adds honestly. "And it's even better if she lives outside of town." He looks at Will. "Does she still live in the house where you lived?" Because maybe he'd like to see it from a little bit afar before briefly parting ways with Will.

Will reaches for Malcolm's hand, giving him a small smile. "You don't need to reassure me. It's a pandemic- it's going to be rough. If she doesn't take me up on it, I'll try to give her some advice."

With that addressed, he continues. "She's probably there. It was her house before ours. Her first husband died when Wally was six." He was a hunter, which meant Will had stag heads in his house. He'd thought it rather fitting, right up until the letter came.

"You want to see it? It's two acres. I'm sure she's still got the dogs. She picked up more strays than I did."

Malcolm squeezes his hand and then holds on tight, but at the invitation he tries not to look too excited, though he fails.

“That’d be okay?” he confirms. He really doesn’t want to impose. But. A house Will lived in!

"Of course," Will says, amused.

He's lived a lot of places, to the point where he doesn't really feel like he's from anywhere. But Malcolm's always so fascinated by his past, like Will graced it with his presence. It helps him look more fondly on places he didn't give much of a thought to before.

"I'll set us up just outside the property. You can get a good look at it."

He keeps hold of Will’s hand, which is probably how he manages not to walk into anything as he looks around on their way through town.

“This kind of place for sure is better for you than a city. I’ve never lived in a small town. Does everyone really know everyone? …I guess the Barge is a small town. I don’t know everyone there. Maybe it has higher turnover than an actual town…”

"It is definitely the sort of town where everyone knows everyone, which is why I came to one I've only visited a couple of times. I was infamous before the scene I left at the cliff."

They reach their door and Will pushes it open, setting them in their kitchen. "I'd really like to talk to Molly before Freddie Lounds gets in my face. God, she probably made the aftermath hell for Molly..."

Ah, there was the guilt that made him decide to come here in the first place. At least he'd earned this one.

“That’s the reporter, right?” Malcolm confirms much more soberly. He knows what it’s like, their lenses in your face all the time on the worst days of your life. “I hope she didn’t find them that interesting when you weren’t there anymore.”

"No, she-" Will licks his lips, frowning in distaste. "She's always been obsessed about following me, even before anything suspicious happened. Even after Hannibal was incarcerated. I'd say it's a wonder Hannibal never killed her, but I think he liked her lack of shame."

He shakes his head and points them towards the console, much less worried about setting it this time. He was far more familiar with where they'd be going this time. "No, I bet she's still got someone watching out for them- if she's not doing it herself. Make sure you keep your eyes open for anything glinting in the trees."

Malcolm nods soberly.

“I’m… familiar with that glint. I know what I’m looking for.”

"I thought you might be," Will replies, with a sad smile.

The travel happens with a switch and a thought. When the front door opens this time, it's onto a small copse of trees, and a little creek running through them. The tree Will has picked to shove their door onto is almost wide enough to hold the door, but a little crack of space appears in parts where the door isn't flush. Will walks out with his hands in his pockets.

The house is on the other side of 'their' tree, and they're effectively hidden from view. It's large and looks like it belongs right where it is, among the douglas fir trees. There's a big wrap-around porch and rustic touches. It's at the top of a hill they're standing at the bottom of.

Malcolm looks up at it, his eyes a little wide, then he looks at Will.

“You lived here?” So lovely and rustic and isolated. “Did you love it?”

Will stares up at it. "I should've," he eventually says. "...I wanted to. It's everything I thought I wanted. A good home, a family, a house with lots of space. More dogs," he adds with a huff of a laugh.

"But it wasn't quite right, for some reason. I always felt like a stand-in, like someone's unwanted understudy. I told myself it was...imposter syndrome. That I'd grow into loving it as time passed. But..." He trails off.

Edited 2025-04-09 04:10 (UTC)

“He had a hold on you already,” Malcolm says quietly. “What did you do when you lived here? Not FBI work,” he assumes.

That wasn't what Will had been thinking, but that was what it came down to, in the end.

Still, he's a little tripped up, looking up at his little fairytale house that he could've just kept, pretending he was someone- no, something- else for the rest of his life. He almost let it happen.

"Uh- no. No, I got as far away from that as I could. I worked part-time at an animal shelter near here- Molly does legal work for them and put in a good word. Otherwise, I'd take care of the house, pick up Wally from practices...that sort of thing."

“I… know we’re all supposed to want a particular picture of domestic life,” Malcolm concedes. “But… maybe you just weren’t designed to live in just one place. You were made on a houseboat. You’re built to be a nomad. Your vessel is your true home. Maybe you’ll have some ports you’ll make cozy because you want to stop there again and again. Like LA. But… it’s not your fault or hers that you couldn’t be something you’re not,” he points out softly. “Or that the messaging has always been so overpowering that you couldn’t know you weren’t that.”

Will watches Malcolm explain the nomad aspect to him, and his eyes practically glow with fondness. He pulls Malcolm into a hug and brushes his lips over Malcolm's cheek.

"You are such a kind man," he says. "You're right about the nomad aspect, of course. But it's the darkness she couldn't see past. The world I...thrive in."

He sees a white SUV peeking through the trees, on the driveway headed to the house. "And I'd love to go over nuances, but- later. I've stalled long enough. Wish me luck?"

He does like it when he manages to stumble into pleasing Will just by saying what naturally comes to his mind. He squeezes Will back tightly and smiles at the brush of his lips. He nods at ‘wish me luck’, smoothing out Will’s collar slightly, his hand sliding almost reluctantly away from the contact after a second.

“And if not, break a leg,” he jokes, but his unserious smile turns serious. “I love you,” he promises.

Will takes in a deep breath as Malcolm smooths his collar and gets him ready to go. He feels steadier with the support. "I love you," he returns with a grateful smile.

He squeezed Malcolm's shoulder before finally tearing himself away. He hikes up the hill and manages to make it to the driveway as Molly is still pulling groceries out. Malcolm's enhanced hearing picks them up- although no one would miss the way Molly shrieks in fear when Will offers to help her carry them in.

"Oh- god, Will. You're not-"

"I'm...no longer dead. But it's a long story and-"

She's hesitant to ask, but she does. She still sounds frightened. "Are- are you with him?"

"No. No, Hannibal's dead, Molly. I've been in...a different place. Oh-" He catches a grocery bag that's slumping in her hand. "You might need to sit down for this, Molls. We can stay on the porch?"

"No- ...no. Come in. Wally's not here. Grab that last bag on your way?"

They make their way inside, and it's another half an hour before they're coming out again. Molly looks pale but determined, and Will looks concerned. They both start walking down the hill, directly towards the tree their ship's placed on.

Malcolm is busy while Will is in the house. He’s had an idea for a housewarming gift for Will for a while, but now that they’re near a town, he can work on it.

When the main door of the ship opens, Malcolm is pulling shut the bathroom door and stepping into the entranceway, a smile ready to remind Will that there is always someone here that’s happy to see him.

It's a shame that their ship is soundproof, because then Malcolm would get to hear Molly tell Will that "Sure, it's weird, but it's just a door," and that it's not entirely unexplainable.

Will opens the front door for her, and suddenly Malcolm's greeted with his husband and Molly Graham. She's a shorter woman with dyed blonde hair and high cheek bones. Her general style is very much based on practicality. She's a get-it-done sort of person. And right now, her eyes are widening to saucers as she takes the place in.

Will would place a hand on her back to steady her, but he's very much avoiding touching Molly. He catches the smile on Malcolm's face and gives him an apologetic smile in return. "Hi, sorry. She wanted proof." Because of course she does. Will had been so worried about talking to her that he never got this far in his offer.

He gives Will what he hopes is a reassuring look before he looks at Molly and looks at him and then back again. Did he tell her he’s traveling with someone?

“No. Right. Of course. I would too! Hi! Nice to meet you. I’m Malcolm,” he tells her, offering his hand.

Meanwhile, Molly is looking at his other hand- the ring finger. "Oh, you're- uhm, Will's husband. Of course." She reaches up to shake his hand. "From the...afterlife rehab clinic."

Even she realizes that she's tripping over her words. But polite meetings as her worldview breaks apart wasn't on her schedule for today. "Sorry, I'm not usually-"

She's cut off by the sounds of barking from Winston and Buster, currently in the courtyard. Molly's face softens, and she's threatening to smile for the first time since Will approached her. "Of course you have dogs here."

The barking sets off baby yips from behind the bathroom door, which makes Malcolm wince - surprise ruined - but he tries to just carry on like there’s nothing to know.

“Well, he’s a dog guy. We have a bird, too. Do you want something to drink?”

Will, inevitably, hears the yips and his eyes widen a little. A smile slowly spreads across his face, regardless of how he tries to stifle it.

"No, no," Molly replies. "That's okay, I just- is that Buster and Winston? Can I see them?"

Will finally lets himself smile and nods at Malcolm. "They're in the courtyard, right?" He knows what Molly wants. To see the dogs, of course. But also to peek around the place and make sure it's not some sort of trick somehow. If she's going to commit to being relocated to a different universe- to taking her son with her- she has to know that this is real and not some sort of elaborate...something.

“Courtyard. Yes. That’s where all the dogs are,” Malcolm confirms, backing up as they walk until he is ‘casually’ leaning on the bathroom door until they’re past it.

“If she wants to see the bird or the snakes, that’s cool too. I’m going to make some tea,” he adds, peeling off in a different direction, towards the kitchen.

And Will’s nose might scent the wet dog food he is definitely not putting on a little plate while the kettle is heating up.

Will is so tempted to go open that bathroom door, but he's at a very touchy stage in this whole thing. So instead he guides Molly around, through the living room and down the hall to the courtyard. She tries to keep up polite conversation, even now. Will tries to tell her she doesn't need to, but she interrupts- this is how she's staying sane at the moment.

Further talk is interrupted by more barking as Will opens the door to the courtyard. Molly is very much the same as Will, when it comes to dogs. She immediately forgets that they're in a space that should not exist and homes in on Buster and Winston. It's about five minutes of pets and praises until she starts coming back to herself.

As they leave the courtyard, Molly's expression turns more serious. "I need time, Will. To think about this. We're rooted here, you know that."

"I know," he tells her. "And we can stay for a few days. We can even come back for you later. But the time difference is hard to predict, while we're on the Barge. The longer it is, the less reliable we'll be."

She nods, biting her lip. "Uh...okay. I'm going to go and think about it, then. And meet Wally. He's going to be back from practice soon."

"Ah- damn, I forgot to get a burner phone. We'll be traveling a few places while here. But I'll pin the number to the tree, okay? Just call it if you need me."

Will opens the door for her again, and after a couple of pleasantries (including an 'it was nice to meet you, Malcolm' from Molly), she exited. She still did a double take upon leaving, but tried to keep it to herself.

And Will heaves a heavy breath out, as if trying to expel all the things they talked about in one fell swoop. He smiles tiredly up at Malcolm. "Thank you. I think that went...better than it could've, certainly."

Malcolm is still less of a natural at initiating touch than Will is, but he’s getting more confident and as Will closes the door, he offers his arms.

“I don’t suppose you’re up for a little more excitement in the form of a semi-surprise in that you can probably already hear and smell it………” Malcolm muses, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

Will reaches for him immediately at the sight of the open arms, hugging Malcolm and immediately relaxing. It had been nerve-wracking inviting Molly in here- this is his safest place in all the worlds. But she had to see it for herself. And she and Wally might both be here if she goes for it.

At the mention of more excitement, Will grins. "As long as I'm the surprise-ee, I think my heart can take it. Please-" He pulls away enough for Malcolm to see the twinkle in the eye. "Show me?"

Malcolm grins and gives him one more kiss before letting go and running over to the bathroom.

He returns with a brown puppy with big blue eyes in his arms.

"I found him at the local shelter. He didn't even flinch at my scent!"

He piles the puppy into Will's arms as soon as he's close enough, then looks up at Will's face.

"I wanted to get you a housewarming gift, since we moved into our forever home."

Will is struck speechless for a moment, when it's not only a dog but a puppy. And Malcolm got him from the shelter (if it's 'local' it's the one Will worked at). "Oh, wow...hello, little guy. Welcome to your new home. You're not scared of us because everyone here are monsters, huh? We're just smellier ones."

He rubs the puppy's belly and the dog wriggles with delight. It's clear he wants to run, so Will puts him on the ground. The puppy skitters around on the floor with his awkward legs and contents himself with sniffing everything he can reach. "Malcolm, this is...I didn't get you anything. And usually I advise against surprise presents of pets, but-" He shakes his head and finally looks up to meet Malcolm's eyes. "This is really special. Thank you."

"I know a rescue isn't the same as a stray," Malcolm acknowledges. "And I'd never get a surprise pet for... literally anyone else... but.... you were worried about bringing any more of your dogs from home on this journey and I thought... you just need dogs that are part of this journey. Once we were on the journey." He grins. "You think he'll fit in?"

"Oh, I think so. We'll need to play with him more while he's a puppy, though. Buster's not going to be able to entirely keep up with him." He has crouched down on the floor to pet the pup while he says this. Said rescue then jumps up with his little unstable legs to try to lick Will's face. He quickly figures out the hands are much easier. No hesitation whatsoever.

"Okay, then. You're definitely a Franklin," he says in between a couple of laughs. He scritches behind the dog's ears and looks up to Malcolm. "You don't know, but you nailed it. This little guy's a Blue Lacy. Rare, beautiful breed- but they're high energy. Just like Jet, he probably got dumped at the shelter because he was starting to get too active. He'll be little terror when he's more mobile. You might've saved him from being passed around."

Malcolm laughs with delight as the dog tries to lick Will's face and hands. He blinks and looks pleased at Will's conclusion.

"I did? Oh good! Well, he'll have lots of places to run with us," he says happily.

He crouches down across from Will and reaches out to scritch the dog behind the ears. "Hi, Franklin," he says with a grin. He looks at Will. "The guy at the shelter was telling me that a puppy mill got busted out in the countryside and the healthy animals - or the animals they had nursed back to health - had just come available today. There were more choices than usual. But I just felt like... this one wanted to come with me," he explains, still smiling faintly. He's never felt really connected to a dog the way Will does, but this one still stood out somehow in a way he couldn't explain.

Oh, and this dog would probably love running around with them as wolves. With a lack of fear, even at this stage, will be so nice for later training.

As Malcolm explains how he got him, Will tips his head a little to the side. Something about his eyes change, like he's understanding something new. His grin softens into a pleased smile. "That'll happen sometimes, when a dog picks you. It means that this dog is yours just as much as he's mine."

"...I never had a dog before. But... we're building our family now, right? So... I guess... he's ours because it's time for that?" Malcolm supposes.

Will considers that. "...everything we do, every big decision we make, we're going to do it together from now on. So that rings true. But the fact of the matter is that you chose him for me, and he chose you for you. Huh, Franklin?"

The puppy, who has been trying to throw a toy in the air for himself, responds with a happy "bark!" Not that he knows what's going on, but the responsiveness is nice. Will takes pity on him and throws the toy and the pup stumbles happily towards his prize.

He looks up to Malcolm. "Are you okay with that? Anxious about owning a dog?"

He puts his hand on his stomach. “I don’t know if anxious is the right word. It doesn’t feel like that. It feels more like… when you told me. How you felt.” He pauses, thinks, then looks at Will warmly. “Maybe I’m still not used to being chosen for me and it still feels like a big responsibility.” He smiles softly. “I don’t want to let either of you down.”

Will smiles back and reaches out to take hold of Malcolm's hand. "I know," he says softly. "And I don't believe that's even a possibility. But even if you somehow do something I'm disappointed about, I'll still love you. Always. And dogs-"

He cuts himself off to look at Franklin, who's currently wrestling with the toy.

"Let's just say I think it'll do you good to have one." He grins. "Do him good, too. You want to carry him over to the courtyard? Have him meet his new pack?"

His smile broadens, brightens and he squeezes Will’s hand.

At the suggestion, he looks at the dog and then looks at Will and nods. He lets go of his hand to step over to the dog and scoop him up.

“Come on, Franklin, let’s meet your brothers…” he looks at Will to make sure he’s coming, then heads into the courtyard.

As soon as Will opens the door, the two adults bound over and attempt to sniff at the puppy, tails wagging furiously. Winston gives some small little woofs, while Buster is surprisingly silent. Will had decided to forget leashing them- it looks like that was the right choice.

"Guys, this is Franklin. Be nice to him, okay? He's still learning how to get around. Franklin, this is Buster and Winston. What do you think?"

Franklin wiggles happily in Malcolm's arms, all limbs all of a sudden.

Malcolm laughs and sets him down so the sniff-fest can begin in earnest. As he straightens up he looks at Will, shifting a little closer to him.

“I know it’s a hard day…” The whole Molly situation, that is. “But…” He glances around, then looks at Will again. “It still barely feels real. All this. Doing this. That it’s all ours and we can do this.” He reaches for Will’s hand. “That it’s just us now and only people we invite to our life.”

The two adult dogs circle around the puppy, sniffing and wagging their tails. Franklin tries to lick their noses, continuing his ongoing campaign to taste as much of his world as possible.

Will watches them while squeezing Malcolm's hand. He's already satisfied that the introduction was a success, so he looks up to Malcolm. There's a warm, quiet smile on his face.

"It is. It's all ours. And I want to see it all with you." He stares down at the dogs again, charmed as Buster starts leading Franklin around the courtyard. "...I didn't expect to be this happy today. Not while we're technically at my 'home'. But you do seem to make the impossible happen."

The corner of his lips ticks up. "Not that I'm calling off our more violent goal today." He's been looking forward to his petty little revenge against Jack."

“Are we going to pop over there and then come back here?” Malcolm asks, using Will’s hand to tug him into his arms, where he can gaze warmly up into his face. “We probably don’t want to go over there with Molly in tow. She doesn’t seem like much more of a ‘wait in the car’ person than I am…” he muses, giving his husband a soft kiss. Well, his mouth is right there; it wouldn’t be reasonable to resist it.

Will chuckles at thinking of Molly 'waiting in the car,' enough so that he's a little surprised by the kiss. He leans into it, eyes closing as he basks in the warmth of Malcolm's love for him. It causes the kiss to go on a little longer than Malcolm probably intended. Will figures he won't mind.

"No, Molly's not coming with," Will rumbles, amused. "My plan was to get a burner phone, leave the number on the tree, then head out for a bit. Not just for Jack- there's a few more places I want to show you. And Molly would probably like a day or two to consider, without us living in her tree."

He doesn’t mind the kiss lingering at all. He likes it when he manages to distract Will.

At the new information, his eyebrows go up and he grins. More places? More places Will wants to show him, from his life before.

“I saw a place in town where we can get one of those phones!” Malcolm exclaims, letting go of Will to head excitedly towards the control room.

"Great. Shall we?" he replies, even though he's the one following Malcolm. "But don't let me near that shelter. It could get dangerous." They could end up with their new house full of dogs.

The trip doesn't take long- in fact, getting to a copy place so Will could write a number and then laminate the note (it will be on a tree, after all) takes longer than the phone itself. Will carries himself like he's on holiday- he pretty much is, isn't he? Regardless of their reasons for this visit, it's a break.

He sees a quaint shop that seems to be a cafe and chocolate shop and tugs Malcolm gently in that direction. "How about we check out out? This is the sort of place that tends to have really good coffee." They might as well take it a little slow and enjoy themselves.

Malcolm looks up at the sign and grins.

"I love a good coffee," he says happily, following Will into the shop, still clutching his hand.

"Do they have something like a strawberry mousse?" he asks, even as he's scanning the menu on the wall behind the counter.

There are so many chocolates. The display counters are full of them, all beautiful. There are a number of specialty drinks, as well as parfaits made with mousse.

Will asks for just the strawberry for Malcolm, and something less sweet for himself. He ends up with an espresso bean trifle.

"I had no idea a place like this still existed," he admits to Malcolm, as they put together their order. He even likes it. It's strange what he notices when he doesn't have a constant awful headache.

“It’s perfect. It’s like a Hallmark movie,” Malcolm says, taking a careful, small bite of mousse. “We might have to save Christmas when we’re done eating, though,” he jokes. He takes a sip of coffee. He considers his mousse, then glances at Will. “Are you going to be able to have some of this?” Most of it. Probably most of it.

Will chuckles at the Hallmark comment. "Ah, a twist on the classic. I'm the country bumpkin and you're the big city guy, and you come here to show me the magic of Christmastime in the country," he summarizes. He nods, content. He remembers something like that when he and Harkin were sharing dreams. Another breach that Red's been through. He wouldn't mind doing that again.

"I'll eat what you don't want, Malcolm. Always." He's not always big on sweets, but he's more than happy to enjoy treats if it means Malcolm gets to try them, too. "How's the taste?"

He smiles when Will says 'Always'. He takes another bite.

"It's really nice. Very smooth texture too. Not too sweet. Very... fruit."

"Sounds great," Will replies. "Mine's got the interplay of bitter and sweet. I'll probably be up an extra hour tonight. They did not skimp on the espresso."

He's silent for a moment, taking in the sights and the smells in here. It's fairly crowded- he expects some level of crush of the emotions of everyone around them. There's a few tired people, one lady who's just about at the end of her rope with her toddler. But the majority are in much the same space as they are- pleasantly surprised and enjoying the break.

"I'm a little surprised. Even this world, I see differently when I'm with you." He looks thoughtful, then shakes his head. "Maybe it's merely that I'm no longer tethered to it." If he sat down and really looked into it, would he condemn this world as strongly? Would he insist that Molly needed to leave?

Edited 2025-06-18 02:40 (UTC)

"Things look different when you're happy, compared to when you're sad," Malcolm points out simply, taking another small, careful bite.

Will's struck silent for a moment, and a slow smile creeps onto his face. "I suppose that's true."

There's a brief silence as they both eat, Will clearly savoring the flavor as he runs his tongue over his lips. He looks at Malcolm, then his gaze dips down to the table between them. "It took me so long to even understand what 'being happy' and 'being sad' was. During most of my childhood years, I thought it was being next to someone at the right time."

Malcolm smiles and clicks his spoon against Will's playfully.

"Isn't it?"

Maybe not in the way he thought.

"And here I thought I was a hopeless romantic." Will snorts and shakes his head, but he's beaming underneath the layer of snark. He lets out a laugh and eats some more of his trifle.

That's when he feels a chill down his spine- a searing cold that goes straight down to the spinal cord.

He looks up, pulling himself from his rose-colored mindset for a moment. He doesn't show off being alarmed, but he does look around. He listens and he breathes deep, taking in scents.

The woman with the toddler is finally leaving. The other customers are mostly still here, generally in no hurry to leave. There's people walking past the window and a couple on the other side of the street. It smells like the mountains, and one of the customers had a workout and didn't shower before they stopped here. He notices the distinct smell of old books for just a moment before the door closes and that fades, as well.

There's nothing. He turns back to Malcolm.

"Sorry. Don't think I'll be able to fully relax until we're out of here."

Malcolm notices when Will becomes suddenly vigilant, though someone who didn't know him would not. His own spoon hovers above the dish as he watches Will's face. He knows Will is in that zone where he's extending his sense all around him, feeling out all the people nearby.

His tension eases when Will's does, though his spoon doesn't go right back into the dish.

"...But it's okay? He's not... here?"

"He's not alive," Will replies, too loudly and forcefully for an ice cream shop. It earns him stares he's used to. Well, so much for being inconspicuous.

He licks his lips, takes a deep breath, and lets it out in a sigh. By then, the chatter has started up again. Will murmurs to Malcolm, far more quietly, "I saw to that."

Malcolm is accustomed to being stared at with vague unfounded suspicion. He barely notices.

“That’s a relief,” he assures Will.

"It is," he admits. "Doesn't mean I'm not keeping an eye out for Freddie or any of the other murderers I caught. I keep expecting them to be right in the corner of my eye."

He takes another bite of his treat, but- it doesn't quite illicit the same spark of happiness he had before. He's thoroughly ruined the mood by remembering what most of this world seems composed of. "I do feel closer to them here. I'll have to ask Wiktor if that's...I don't know, something."

“Well, they’re from here? So their energy is… in this world… somewhere. Right?” He doesn’t know that much about it; if he’s honest, he feels like… not even a third wheel to that training. Like winter tires in the summer, stored in a shed somewhere. But he gamely tries.

Will goes to say something. Then he stops, thinks, and rubs his face with one hand. "It all sounds so much more reasonable on the Barge. Nearly scientific, even. Here?" Will shakes his head. He sounds like a new age cultist, bringing it up.

"I'm not sure if it's energy, if I'm honest. That'd make the most sense. There are...connections I've fostered. That I asked for. I thought it was the specific way I could delude myself, a perk to all the downsides of mental illness. But what I was seeing was real. Objective, merely well hidden."

He sighs and gestures with his spoon. His tone shifts from serious to sarcastic. "Like the most obnoxious set of fingerprints in existence."

“You’re like the UV light and they’re the bodily fluids at the crime scene?” Malcolm hazards. Will Graham: the only UV light that can see the stain inside people.

Will chuckles, smile coming back. "That sounds more apt. I have to describe what I see, rather than show it to other people. And of course, most would rather not know about these sorts of stains. But they solve murders..."

“It goes over well with a very specific crowd,” Malcolm notes with a grin. Himself, for one. And others that are… less of a support when it happens but just want to milk it like a cow full of answers. He knows about those too. “It’s not weird,” he says matter of factly, taking another little bite of dessert.

Will smiles at Malcolm, then down at his treat. "It is weird. But if you'd like to be nicer about it, you can always call it unique. I- I don't regret the way I am, not anymore. I've missed my ability to See in certain Breaches, floods. I feel adrift without it."

He finishes off his dessert and leaves the spoon in the dish. "Most of my problems were with other people misinterpreting the very clear things I would tell them, willfully or not. Hence us going to rectify the situation with one in particular."

As Will's thoughts turned to Jack, the smile slid off his face. All right, maybe he regretted not doing him in with Hannibal ages ago. It's not like any of it got any better. Jack only became more Himself with the passing of Bella. But- acknowledgement of the hurt would be enough.

"I don't want to be euphemistic about it, but I do want you to be... you." He manages one more bite, then pushes the rest of his dessert towards Will. "Also it's just really cool when you do the thing," he says with a grin. He pauses, then frowns faintly. "That doesn't sound like them, does it?"

Will grabs Malcolm's dish in one smooth motion and starts taking bites out of it. It's a pretty practiced habit, now.

At the question, he gives Malcolm a knowing smile. "Not at all. You appreciate the act. Others would merely want the results, filtered down for their particular use. You've always been fascinated with the entirety of my mind. Same as I have been of yours."

It's a trait Malcolm shares with Hannibal, and that one trait had almost been enough to cover a myriad of monstrous acts and true sins in the murderer. How can he help but be enamored with it when it comes to Malcolm?

That recognition - of what he sees, of what Will sees in him - brings the biggest lovesick smile to his face.

"Do you think he still works for the FBI?" Jack of course. "They wouldn't have fired him?"

"Oh, he'll be there. It's all he has left. The higher-ups will let him cling to that job even while they start to 'phase out' the department. No one wants his position, truly."

He tilts his head. "Although...I was thinking we could wait for him at his house. He'd never leave it, not with all that remains of his wife there. I'm sure Forensics can enjoy his shiner the day after we see him."

Besides, Will wants to be properly menacing, and he doesn't know if he'd be able to with all those agents around. He taught most of them, after all.

Malcolm smiles, considering it.

“No, you’re right, that’s creepier.” He glances around. “He came to this town looking for you? At your home?” He’s pretty sure he knows the answer to that question, but the one that follows it is the one he’s truly curious about and he looks at Will’s face as he asks. “What do you think your life would have been like if he hadn’t come?”

Edited 2025-08-20 23:37 (UTC)

Will nods at the first question, because of course Jack did.

As for the second..."I'd still be with Molly, poorly imitating a normal man. Maybe I would've been home when Hannibal sent The Dragon to attack us. I might've killed him myself, but at least someone would've died."

The Look from a couple of customers return, but Will is too busy reconstructing how these events would play out to notice. "I can't say if I'd be too engrossed in my playhouse life to leave it or not, honestly. What I do know is- the longer I stuck with Molly, the more we'd both grow slowly dissatisfied."

Edited 2025-08-20 23:50 (UTC)

“Because you couldn’t show her all of yourself,” Malcolm surmises. “And she’d know there was a wall she couldn’t get past.”

"Exactly," Will replies. "And thankfully, that doesn't exist with you. There are no great moral compromises that must be made, on either side of the aisle."

Something he hadn't entirely known until recently, but he appreciates all the more for the discovery. He finishes up Malcolm's treat with his customary offering of the last bite back to Malcolm. He's rarely taken up on it, but it's an acknowledgement that it's Malcolm's item, to do with as he wishes.

"I do want to scare the hell out of Jack," he admits, as he puts the dishes they've finished on the indicated rack and turns to leave. "But I would like you to stop me if I get too...into it." He has, at times, gotten too enthusiastic in the past. He'd blame it on the change of becoming a lycanthrope, but it's always been in him.

Malcolm takes the bite this time. Chalk it up to the exceptionally good mood being acknowledged as Will’s most suitable spouse gives him.

He wants to be clear on the parameters of the request, though. Thankfully he has never faced chastising or recrimination from Will for wanting a request to be even more specific or explicit.

“It’s okay if you hit him, but don’t let you kill him?” he asks as they emerge, again, onto the picturesque street.

Will nods in agreement. "I get one punch. You get one, too, if you want it." He looks to Malcolm, smirks, and reaches out to take his hand. "I figure you'll know if I start walking off that path. Jack isn't the reason I went through everything I did. But...he was a very useful knife in Hannibal's many drawers. I don't intend to let Jack forget that."

“I would like to get a good lick in,” Malcolm admits, the warmth of Will’s hand in his feeling like it’s spreading through his whole body. “I know what sort of damage he did for his solve rate. You were just a tool to him. Until you fashioned him into a tool for you.”

Will smiles. It's not a very nice smile, but it is at least sincerely happy. He squeezes Malcolm's hand gently, turning them down an alleyway. "In this world, it's use or be used. I decided to stop presenting myself up as a stepping stone for other people's desires."

His jaw sets...then softens, slightly. "Jack had...extenuating circumstances." Bella. "But no matter what those were, I was never Jack's priority. That became inescapably clear."

He opens their door and is immediately met with happily barking dogs.

"They're always so happy to see us."

He didn't think he'd be able to feel it like he does; he'd never connected with a dog before in his previous life.

He looks a Will sidelong.

"I can't really blame them. I'm really happy to see you if you've been in a different room, too," he admits.

Will looks down as he lets out a chuckle. When he's with Malcolm, it's always a little more shy, as if he's endlessly surprised and delighted by Malcolm's feelings towards him.

"That makes all of us, then," he replies, squeezing Malcolm's hand, then letting it go to bend down and pet the dogs. Franklin seems to be a part of the pack already, wagging and stumbling his way over to the door. He comes up to Malcolm and puts his paws on Malcolm's leg, leaning against him.

Will grins and makes sure they all get a sufficient amount of pets. He can tell they're going to have to schedule a lot of dog time when they're traveling, and won't that be a luxury?

Edited 2025-09-06 20:08 (UTC)

Malcolm laughs when Franklin angles specifically for his attention and he crouches to scratch behind his ears.

He looks over at Will in all seriousness.

“How did you do that? You told him he’s mine and it’s like he knows.”

"Hey, it wasn't me. Dogs are allowed to like you too, you know," he replies matter-of-factly.

He doesn't point out that Malcolm is much easier to get to, for a slower dog, now does he point out that our was Malcolm that saved him from the shelter. He just gets up, gives a couple of finishing pats to Winston and Buster, and starts heading for the console room.

"I'll drop off the phone number for Molly. Then we're headed for Virginia, to assault a government official."

When Will explains about the dog, he studies the puppy's face for a moment, like something will be revealed. But then Will mentions their next activity.

"We're fitting so much into a day!" He enthused, following Will to the console room, Franklin trailing after him clumsily.

It's easy to fit a lot into the day with this ship, and Will can't help but also be enthusiastic about their new home. He leaves the number in 'their tree' at Molly's, folded up into a flat cone shape and settled safely into a piece of broken bark.

Then he has to look through his old cell phone, because he's only been to Jack's house a couple of times. The last, Bella's misery nearly crushed him under its weight.

This time? When he tastes the stale air of dust and melancholy, he drinks it in. He opens their door into Jack's main hallway. As expected, Jack is not in. He sees the alarm pad next to the temperature controls, and he disarms it- it's fairly old and he's familiar with this model.

He opens their door again and waves Malcolm in. "We might have a long wait ahead of us. Feel free to come and rifle through his things. He certainly didn't mind going through mine, when the opportunity arose." Pointedly, he presses his thumb onto a light switch pad as he flicks the lights on. "They'll likely dust for fingerprints afterward, but I doubt you're in the database."

Malcolm grins.

“Let’s see what a self obsessed team leader keeps in his fridge,” he suggests, glancing around and heading for the kitchen.

"My guess? A box of baking soda, some sauces, and leftover pizza."

It turned out to be leftover Chinese takeout, but Will was close. There wasn't much in the fridge. The freezer, however, was full top-to-bottom with microwavable HungryMan meals.

Will's eyes flicker from item to item, cataloguing. The only charm in this place was infused by Bella a decade ago. The kitchen desk has FBI training programs and classes, the board is pinned up with new candidates, and there's a red tomato-sauce stain still on the stove.

"He's a ghost in his own life," Will concludes. "Haunting himself with his own workplace neglect. At least he holds himself to the same standards he holds others, unrealistic though they may be."

“But he doesn’t want more than that. Other people do. Or they might, but he convinces them otherwise when they’re vulnerable. Young…” He glances at Will. “Sick. Guilty.” He looks at the board. “Desperate. Ambitious. Hungry.”

Will practically takes a bow as Malcolm gets into the sick and guilty portion of vulnerability. He thankfully hasn't been either for a long time, now.

He continues Malcolm's thoughts. "Unable to say no, for whatever reason. That's his ideal. He thought he got me back by appealing to my family. Suffice it to say, he did the opposite." No going back to the FBI, no going back to the rubble of a life he'd somehow cobbled together into something functional-looking.

"I think he always knew he was sending me out there to die," he says, with a shake of his head. "At least if I got myself killed, he could be regretful to my corpse. Harder to do when a living, breathing person still exists. And when you know you're still going to use them."

He realizes his voice has gone flat. Part of this is winding himself up, but it's tipped over to being more angry and less fun. They might still be waiting a few hours, after all. "I'm going to see if we got lucky and he forgot his laptop here today."

Malcolm just follows him through the house, glancing around as they go, until he feels compelled to ask about it.

"When did his wife die?"

"I found out she was terminally ill with cancer about a month into working for him," Will says first. "She died just before I sailed to France. Hannibal sent a card to the funeral."

He pauses as he goes through the items in Jack's study, but- no luck on the laptop. It barely looked like Jack had even been in here for years. "Jack thought it was a tease- and it was, of course. But not only that. Bella was one of the few people Hannibal took a genuine liking to."

And being here was settling the dead man further in Will's bones, because Will knows Hannibal's thoughts like they're fact. What had Bedelia said about agency? That Hannibal was the only one who truly had it here. Like a sort of mass sociopathy, where everyone agreed on who the 'real' person was.

"This world isn't good for me," Will confesses to Malcolm, after noticing where his thoughts are taking him. "But we won't be here for too much longer. Just enough for closure."

"Do you still feel him here, even though he's gone?" Malcolm asks quietly. He doesn't mean Jack.

Will had been about to head up the stairs, but he stops in the hallway at the question. He thunks his head back against the wall, solid but gently. His eyes slip halfway shut.

"I do. It's like he's...ingrained into the fabric of this universe. And now he's gone, and I'm the only piece of him left here, to make sense of this madness. It's..." He trails off and looks at Malcolm, his own expression somewhere between lost and resigned. "It's easier than ever to see his point of view. And I want this to be mine."

His words to Jack. His punch. His victory. Something to share with Malcolm, as he desires.

“It is yours, though,” Malcolm points out. “If you think about it, Jack never did anything but favours for Hannibal. Not the least of which was handing you to him on a silver platter. You’re the one that has a real quarrel with him. And I do, because he was careless with you and could have broken you and he was okay with the possibility of that outcome, just like Hannibal was. When it comes down to it, both of them only wanted you for what you could do with them. For how they could… use your ability to direct you and glorify themselves. Laying him out on the carpet… that’s your righteous anger talking.” He steps close enough to lay his hand over Will’s heart. “Your justified rage. Your street justice. Your… fitting farewell to all this.”

No one here would ever argue these details with him. While Will looks like he'll step forward with a rebuttal, Malcolm's reminder that he too has a bone to pick takes a lot of the steam out of it.

"There's more I would do," he says, biting his lip and worrying it for a moment. "If I was stuck here."

He looks up at Malcolm again and gives him a small, conspiratorial smile. "But I'm not." Not alone again. Ever. Not subsumed, not tolerated. He can still be himself and only seek to edit a little for the sake of avoiding demotion.

This discussion seems to have sparked something. His eyebrows raise as he thinks it over. "I might give him a taste, of what he'd made of me...before the Barge picked me up."

Malcolm gives him a sly smile.

"I assume you don't mean pancaked at the bottom of a cliff.'

That tickles a sincere chuckle out of him. "I do not."

With twinkling eyes, he adds, "You'll see. -or rather, hear. In a little bit."

It does take several hours for Jack to come home, the time pushing 11pm when he arrives. Will's had a couple of frozen meals by then. When Will finally hears the car pulling into the driveway, he shuffles them both to the walk-in pantry, shuts the door, and pulls out the burner phone. They'll just have to get another.

Jack walks in and tosses his keys onto a small dish on the table by the entrance. He sets his bag down by the chair and pauses for a moment- contemplating the solitude, Will guesses- before he starts heading up the stairs.

Will calls the number he remembers. He can hear it ringing. "This is Jack," he hears on the phone, voice curt.

"I start with the back, flaying the skin and pulling it taught. The time I knew I had to stop. The time I was told I'd regret stopping. This one gets his wings first."

He'll credit Jack, he's hoofing it up those steps as quietly as he can.

"Will?? Will, I-"

"I hang the skin with lures, recreating the ones that were used to frame me. The lies that were believed. You will not want to stay where I put you, so I set up an IV full of curare to keep you still. Still, but feeling. Because the pain is something you need to experience first-hand."

Will's not reacting to Jack, which is becoming harder with every word uttered. The man is not trying to be quiet anymore, now booming so hard he's easy to hear through the walls. Pleas at first, but by this point it's more of a command. "You have to stop this, you can't become everything you hated!"

Will continues, and Jack has to lower his voice eventually to hear him. Will hears the landline dialing in background, just the clicks of the receiver moving. "I mount your body on a stag's head, chest down. The wings need to stand tall."

"If this is a threat, you picked the dumbest--"

"Once mounted, I stuff a perfect replica of Goya's Tan bárbara la seguridad como el delito into your mouth. And then I leave you. You'll have to wait until someone comes to save you. Or...not."

He lets Jack get out another belligerent word, but he doesn't hear it. He only hears his own voice now, saying, "This is my design."

He disconnects the call. Jack should be noticing the displaced items in his bedroom right about now...even if he's still apparently screaming into the phone. Will squeezes Malcolm's hand in the dark, but the low light still reveals the contentment on his face. He's in his element.

“I love Goya,” Malcolm whispers. “It was a nice touch. No other artist captures the desolation of the soul the way he did.”

Even while he whispers, his head is tilted slightly, listening for Jack’s footfalls or his voice.

Jack's footfalls are not hard to hear. He stops for a mere moment, then stomps down the stairs. He's clearly doing a sweep of the house, and the kitchen will be the last place he checks. As he looks into the study, Will slips out of the pantry and waits behind the half-closed door to the kitchen.

He doesn't direct Malcolm- he figures his husband can decide where he wants to place himself.

Jack pushes the door open slowly, turning on the light in the process. Will lets it swing past him and aims a kick at Jack's knee, which causes the Head of the FBI's Behavioral Unit to fire his gun wildly into the ceiling as he falls to the ground. Will stomps on Jack's gun-wielding hand and hears the bones crunch.

"You're very lucky I don't plan to kill you, Jack. You might not want to push it."

Malcolm stays where he is for a moment, until Will knocks Jack down. As Will issues his warning, Malcolm casually steps over and picks up Jack’s gun. He takes out the clip with practiced ease and then empties the chamber before thumbing each bullet out of the clip one by one.

“Glock 19M. A standard issue FBI sidearm.” He examines it, holding it with his free hand. “You clean it about half as often as you should. Careless. Didn’t your firearm instructor at Quantico tell you that could result in a misfire?” He tosses the gun away from himself and finishes emptying the clip before dropping it on the floor.

"It's been a long time since he had to defer to a firearm instructor, rather than the other way around," Will replies.

Jack attempts to grab one of the kitchen nook chairs and Will steps harder on the hand. One of the bones slides under his foot, and he can hear Jack's breathing catch. "Hey, now. We're here for a talk, and to punch you. So, let's get that show on the road."

"Who the hell is this, Will? Friend of Hannibal's?" Jack looks back. He somehow managing a steely-eyed gaze at Will, despite his current physical position. Will raises an eyebrow.

"This is Malcolm Bright, my husband," Will says, gesturing towards him. "Former FBI agent and brilliant profiler. We...have a lot in common."

"Congratulations," Jack says, very clearly not in a congratulatory mood. "Where's Lecter?"

Will's jaw sets as he looks up to Malcolm, then back down. He doesn't like where this is going.

Malcolm, on the other hand, smiles.

"Will killed him," he says happily. "He did tell you that you should be glad he isn't here to kill you. It seems like it would be a lot easier."

He steps over to the fridge, looking at a picture there. A picture of Jack and Bella. He studies it a moment, then looks at Jack.

"Then again, maybe that wouldn't be the worst thing for you. You were a workaholic while she was alive, but even that doesn't give you life anymore, does it? The work? It's hollow. Everything's hollow. Even now, determined and angry, your face is still hollow."

The words hit Jack far more solidly than anything physical. That he can power through. This? He can't even get mad on behalf of his wife. He looks down, frustrated and ashamed.

-but not for long. Will can see the black tar overtake Jack, ink spilling out around him. Jack doesn't look up to speak, just continues lying on the ground, where he's been put.

"Sounds to me like you didn't finish your work then, Will. Because Lecter's out there. Alive. Set up a display on the anniversary of your 'death.'" Jack looks back at Will, sees Will's face paling. "How could you not know? It was all over every goddamned newspaper!"

Malcolm looks at Jack, studies him, tilting his head a little bit. He notices Will's change of palour, but doesn't match it. He's analyzing.

"If you were ever good at this job, it's been a while. Your heart isn't in it anymore. So how do you know it was Lecter and not an acolyte or admirer picking his moment to become a copycat?" he asks with simple curiosity. "Will wasn't here to consult. So... how can you be sure?"

"There were plenty of signs. Including a literal calling card he left at the scene," Jack spits. But he's winding down. The tar is starting to pull him under. Will doesn't trust it.

Jack looks up at his face. "Take a look at my files if you don't believe me. If you're the only one who would know, might as well look."

"I don't look for you anymore," Will snaps. But he does want to know.

He turns to stare at Malcolm for a moment and takes a calming breath. He says to Malcolm, "Watch him. He'll try to regain mobility as soon as I take my foot off of him." Unsaid but obvious- Jack will underestimate Malcolm's physical capabilities.

Will looks down the hall. He steps a little harder on the broken hand before releasing it, hoping for some disorientation before Jack tries anything. And then he's heading for Jack's bag, an overstuffed soft briefcase with files and his computer inside.

Edited 2025-09-12 15:17 (UTC)

Malcolm just smiles at Will at the warning. He looks at Jack. "I know it doesn't feel like it, but if he is alive it's your lucky day. Will will probably kill him."

Jack just watches him until his attention wanders back to the photos on the fridge.

But Will probably hears one scream from the other room and when he returns, Jack's broken hand is pinned to the kitchen table with a butcher knife from the block on the counter and Malcolm is perched on the counter beside the block now, eating a Twizzlers from his pocket.

He looks up when Will returns. "I missed both the ulnar and median nerves on purpose. He's welcome."

Will doesn't even look up at the scream. Malcolm, in this respect, is honestly better suited to handle the situation than he is. Besides, he's digging through Jack's files until he finds the tableau.

It's against one of the trees directly in front of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. The subject was one Will had been reminded of recently, for much less nefarious purposes: Saint Sebastian. The man was secured up at the wrist, with literally dozens of arrows piercing him at all angles. The man looked very similar to Will, which was not a surprise.

He manages just a quirk of amusement on his lips at Malcolm's nonchalant declaration. Will glances at Jack and nods. It was a job well done.

"It's him," he says once he's in the room, tossing the picture down on the counter next to Malcolm. After another moment, he adds the one behind it- a recreation of a card left with Miriam Lass' arm, "What Do You See?" written in red ink. Something they never released to the public- and Freddie never managed to get her hands on.

"We have to go," he says to Malcolm, the words weighty. "Back to Molly. Now."

If that ice cold fury back at that chocolate shop was what he thinks it was? She's in imminent danger.

Jack perked up at the new information. "Molly? Will, is he in Washington? We can get people there. But you have to work with me on this. You know you're the only one who can-"

Will had been walking to the hallway. He stops and turns back, emotionless, to punch Jack directly in the face. That shuts him up for now, at least. Will looks back to Malcolm, a tired smile suddenly appearing. Malcolm can get his in too, if he wants.

Edited 2025-09-12 23:18 (UTC)

Malcolm catches his look and smiles modestly, gesturing at Jack with his Twizzler.

"I already stabbed him," he says, heading to keep pace with Will for their door. He's not beyond Jack's earshot when he points out "it's fine if you kill him..."

They're inside the ship with the door shut by the time he adds "Just make sure he gets to know you like me better first. And that you think I'm hotter than he is."

Edited 2025-09-12 23:26 (UTC)

Jack calls after them as they head down the hallway, desperate to gain Will's expertise again. Will throws one more disgusted look at the man, but the moment passes quickly and Malcolm has so many more interesting things to say.

"I...I'm not sure what I'm going to do with Hannibal," Will admits. He reaches us to cup Malcolm's jaw with his hand and smirks. "But I'll make sure he knows that. It'll enrage him."

Will's staring him in the eyes as he continues. He's almost still joking- it's an easy cadence to take, thanks to Malcolm's upbeat attitude. "You are going to have to be careful. His focus will be on removing you, and he's not as easy to deal with as Jack."

He continues down the hall to the console room. The dogs are away in the courtyard at the moment- Will didn't want to have them possibly at risk, on the off-chance something went wrong and Jack managed to get in. He doesn't think Hannibal would stoop that low (despite everything), but they'll stay there for now.

"Likewise, it's fine if you kill him. As much as that's not your style. These might be unique circumstances."

Malcolm sobers as he considers that, his hand absently finding fabric to cling to at Will’s waist.

“I’ll do it to save myself or someone else. But… I don’t think I can do it in cold blood.” He looks up at Will with suddenly concerned eyes. “Don’t let him take you with him this time,” he pleads in a sudden burst of urgent, earnest words.

Will had been moving with purpose, but when he feels that Malcolm's got his shirt, he stops cold and turns back to him. He takes the request with a deep breath inward and shakes his head.

"No. I won't, Malcolm. I've given enough of myself, far more than I should've. No one gets the rest but you." He reaches up and grasps Malcolm's hand in his, and he squeezes it.

He's been shaken out of his single-minded focus on getting to Hannibal 'in time'. And as such, he lets out a small sigh. "Say the word, and we're gone. I mean it. I hate that I've endangered Molly again, but maybe it's a sign that I shouldn't have interfered in the first place." Closure is clearly something that is going to keep eluding him. "I trust you to have a clearer head than me, here."

Malcolm presses his lips together. More than anything, he doesn’t want to lose Will, but… “We can’t just leave him here to hurt people. He’ll never stop. Just… I mean, I know he’s always in your head. That he always will be to some degree. Just don’t let him get under your skin. Don’t let him dance you into making a mistake.”

He’s not, these days, worried about Hannibal seducing Will away from him.

“I think… I think we might be the only people that can stop him. So… let’s go get him.”

Will squeezes Malcolm's hand again, watching his face with quiet but insistent observation. Whatever he finds there, he accepts, nodding with resolve.

Maybe closure is not what he needed here. Maybe, for everyone's sake, Hannibal can't be mourning. It's a seed of an idea in his mind. Hopefully wherever it's going grows fruit quickly.

"Let's go."

He's walking into the console room when his phone rings. Will pulls the burner phone out of his pocket and looks at the display- no use, Molly must've had to change her number between his death and now. He worries his lip for a moment and then holds the phone out for Malcolm. It's compromised now.

Malcolm picks up the call.

“Hello?” is all he offers the caller.

There's a pause on the other line, long enough to be mistaken for a spam caller. But eventually there's a response.

"Hello. You must be dear Will's newest attempt to save his soul. How do you think that is going?" It's a voice Malcolm's heard before, albeit from another iteration. It's Hannibal Lecter.

Will can hear it, too. While his back stiffens and he might not be breathing, he doesn't turn back to the phone. He's setting everything to travel, and they clearly need to get to Washington now.

Malcolm’s smile changes. It’s not a pleasant thing anymore. There’s darkness in it.

“Going? Oh. It’s all done. He’s an absolute angel now. Works at a food bank. Sings in a church choir. Helps old ladies across the street. What’re you up to these days?” he asks like they’re old friends. “I imagine you lost your licence to practice psychiatry and any other type of medicine because of all the murders and the padded room. That’s a drag. Are you managing to keep busy?”

Will stifles a laugh at Malcolm's response. He loves how petty it is. The tension leaks out of him as he picks a previous location and sets the ship to move.

"I have been 'getting by,'" Hannibal responds, amusement coloring his voice. "Are you familiar with Psuedo-Dionysus' early angelic hierarchy? There are many types of angels. I would envision Will Graham as an ophanim."

Perhaps this ophanim would burn down the church before singing in the choir.

“Ah. The Thrones. Shining like fire and enacting God’s justice. That’s where I’d put him too. So… what? Are we best friends now? That’s fantastic,” Malcolm enthuses without giving him a chance to answer. “I love that for us.” He doesn’t bother covering the receiver with his hand when he shouts as if to another room, though he does lower it from his face a bit. Small mercies. “See, Will?! I told you he wouldn’t try to kill me out of jealousy just because I’m sleeping with you and he wishes!” He brings the phone back to his ear. “So do you need a ride or something? Can we pick you up somewhere?” he asks breezily. “We could have the best road trip ever. Do you know how to play the licence plate game?”

Will breaks out into a chuckle at Malcolm's call out to him, even as his fear spikes. Malcolm certainly does love pushing buttons, doesn't he?

"I haven't had the pleasure," Hannibal replies calmly. "It would be an engaging game with the both of you. That said-"

Two things happen. Will activates their ship, essentially teleporting them to that tree down the hill on Molly's property. And Hannibal audibly gasps.

He recovers quickly. "I believe you'll find me outside. It's encouraging to note that dear Will is no longer bound by the laws of this earth. A fitting state for him."

Will joins Malcolm, staring at the phone. But he lets Malcolm speak for both of them. He might be in agreement about his 'state,' but he's not giving Hannibal more ammunition. They'll be face-to-face soon enough, apparently. He looks up at Malcolm, eyebrow-raising. A silent question if they're both ready for this.

"Yeah, like I said. He's absolutely ethereal." He meets Will's gaze. "Shines like a star," he says with complete confidence. "See you soon."

He hangs up before Hannibal can respond.

"Are... we sure we want to give him the high ground? Maybe we should pop inside the house first and check on the condition of Molly and her son."

"He's outside," Will states plainly. "He wouldn't have slipped at all if he hadn't seen a door pop into existence in front of him. But he was surprised. That's a sound neither of us will ever hear again."

He makes his way to the living room, then to the front door. He stops in front of it. "Hannibal will have Molly and Wally with him. He'll want to make a show of it, so they're relatively safe until we get out there. He would have...tried to set up some clues for us, but we sidestepped that part. That's impressed him, which means he'll be even more dangerous than usual."

Despite the serious tone, Will's face softens and he smiles. His eyes droop to half-mast as a look of adoration crosses his face. "But of course that's never been a deterrent for you. For either of us."

Malcolm puts his hand on the door, to prevent Will opening it for a moment.

"Let me go first," Malcolm says in a soft, grave tone. "I can get him to release the hostages. But only if he can't see you. I'll connect with you on the phone and keep mine in my pocket so you can hear everything. So you know when to come out. He'll have me by then, but I'm not prey." Not like Molly and Wally. He gives Will a wicked little smile. "I only look like it."

At first, Will looks like he might argue. But the plan is solid. Will's intake of breath is excitement, not the fear that it should be.

But oh, does he life it when Malcolm smiles like that. "I trust you to handle his capriciousness. Dangle me just out of reach. -and yourself, if you can?"

He rubs his thumb over Malcolm's lips, then kisses him deeply. All of his passion and love pours into the action.

Malcolm hums as the kiss breaks. “You’re going to make me forget what I was doing,” he teases with a grin, giving Will one more brief but ardent kiss.

He takes a breath and moves to open the door, when he pauses and gives Will a cheeky look. “I hope he can smell you on me,” he says wickedly, then presses the call button on his phone, slips it into his pocket, and lets himself outside, closing the door behind him.

“Oh. Hey. You’re taller than I was expecting. I guess we’ve both got something to be jealous of now,” Malcolm says glibly. He looks at Molly and Wally, then looks at Hannibal, his face saying ‘Really?’ “I can’t really blame you for being out of the loop while Will was dead, but those hostages are so last year. I think you know he doesn’t run with bunny rabbits anymore. You saw to that.” Credit where it’s due, after all. “He runs with wolves now.”

Hannibal is no longer wearing a suit, instead dressed in sharp-looking activewear that just happens to be all in black. He has a faint look of hope in his eyes, before they glass over and become impenetrable again. He doesn't appear to be holding any weapons, but of course Malcolm knows how much he likes hidden blades.

More noticeable are Molly and Wally's state. Wally is ties to a tree with rope that wraps all the way around and over his throat. Ultimately, the rope is attached to some kind of pulley system made out of camping equipment. Molly, meanwhile, is hung up on a hook, wearing a straight jacket and facing forward. Neither look particularly happy to be there.

Hannibal actually smiles at Malcolm as if he's betraying some kind of gentleness. "I saw to many things. One thing I did not see to was his sudden resurrection. Does he not want to come out and see me? Perhaps he's worried he'll leave wedded bliss to join me once again. We could go make a visit to our dear friend Jack. Or perhaps Freddie Lounds."

“Oh, we just came from Jack’s place,” Malcolm says with a slight cringe like they showed up to a gala in the same dress. “In fairness, we didn’t know you were here or that you and I would hit it off so well,” he points out.

He glances over at the contraption.

“I see you’re a fisherman these days, like Will.” He looks at Hannibal. “You’ve baited your hook and now you’re waiting for your fish to bite. I’m more of a hunter, like you used to be. A predator of predators. There’s a term for that, isn’t there? Apex predator? Here’s the deal: Will does intend to come out, but” He holds up one finger. “Only if you let them go unharmed,” he says, tilting his head to indicate Molly and Wally. “You get to keep me, though. Hell, I’ll even put on the straitjacket if you want.”

PSL: Travels outside the Barge (w/Malcolm)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject