PSL: Travels outside the Barge (w/Malcolm)

[empathicfault]

Piloting their new ship is a little difficult. It takes reading the (somehow enclosed) manual back-to-front and learning the control panel, now situated in what looks like a little closet on the window side of the living room. It's in the new hallway that leads to the small courtyard, which Will intends to decorate once they get this one chore done first.

Thankfully, the majority of the controls are intuition-based, going off the person who puts their hand on a small orb on the panel. The rest, as it turns out, is tweaking. And luckily (or otherwise), no tweaking is necessary for their first flight.

They're heading to Will's home world.

But Will doesn't specify where, just a year later than he left. he inadvertently brings them to where he'd left. The door opens from a wall of Hannibal's cliffside home, and looks out onto the driveway. The Dragon's wings are still there, staining the cement. They overlook the grey day and the churning seaside.

Will finds himself stuck in the doorway, unsure whether he's compelled to walk out and remember or slam the door shut and take them elsewhere.

Comments

[empathicfault]

"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.

[abrightboy]

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."

[empathicfault]

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!"

[abrightboy]

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?"

[empathicfault]

"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.

[abrightboy]

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."

[empathicfault]

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.

[abrightboy]

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."

[empathicfault]

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."

[abrightboy]

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.

[empathicfault]

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."

[abrightboy]

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.”

[empathicfault]

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.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm picks up the call.

“Hello?” is all he offers the caller.

[empathicfault]

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.

[abrightboy]

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?”