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

[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?”