Until the concrete angel falls (Hannibal)
The reality of their situation had well and truly sunken in and taken hold by now. Even Will could not convince himself that he had been dreaming all this time. He could understand why Dr. Lecter had tried to keep him locked up in his own room, even if for a time he had resented Hannibal for it. He wasn't sure what Hannibal Lecter thought about how Will Graham would react to these... unusual circumstances they found themselves in - and 'unusual' was trivialising this spaceship they were on - but Will hadn't acted out or broken down or anything of the sort.
In fact, once he'd come to terms with his... (alien abduction?) predicament, he was more relaxed than he had been in the past few months. It had very little to do with where they were now, and more to do with how removed he was from Wolf Trap and Baltimore and the sirens and the blood and the voices and the madness. When he'd embraced his new reality, even if he had trouble believing that this was all actually real, he'd had his first dreamless sleep that he thought he'd thrown away forever since Jack Crawford walked into his lecture hall.
He didn't have to be afraid here, in this cold, metal womb that housed him. Not of killers, not of police officers, not of a psychiatrist pretending to be a friend (entrusted with too much - friendship: Where Hope Defies Logic) and not of himself. Perhaps it was alright to not run around like a madman chasing serial killers and violent phantoms leaving a bloody trail wherever they were wont to drift towards. Maybe he needed to be here, to be in a place where everything was wrong and unnatural and abnormal in order to be able to find himself again and find the peace he was looking for.
But there never seems to be a dull moment to be had whenever Dr. Lecter is involved.
"You know, I was wrong about you, Dr. Lecter," Will said quietly to his wall, to where Dr. Lecter's image would be standing if that wall was a mirror that could capture everything that stood before it and reflect all their imperfections and flaws back to them.
"You are interesting."
In fact, once he'd come to terms with his... (alien abduction?) predicament, he was more relaxed than he had been in the past few months. It had very little to do with where they were now, and more to do with how removed he was from Wolf Trap and Baltimore and the sirens and the blood and the voices and the madness. When he'd embraced his new reality, even if he had trouble believing that this was all actually real, he'd had his first dreamless sleep that he thought he'd thrown away forever since Jack Crawford walked into his lecture hall.
He didn't have to be afraid here, in this cold, metal womb that housed him. Not of killers, not of police officers, not of a psychiatrist pretending to be a friend (entrusted with too much - friendship: Where Hope Defies Logic) and not of himself. Perhaps it was alright to not run around like a madman chasing serial killers and violent phantoms leaving a bloody trail wherever they were wont to drift towards. Maybe he needed to be here, to be in a place where everything was wrong and unnatural and abnormal in order to be able to find himself again and find the peace he was looking for.
But there never seems to be a dull moment to be had whenever Dr. Lecter is involved.
"You know, I was wrong about you, Dr. Lecter," Will said quietly to his wall, to where Dr. Lecter's image would be standing if that wall was a mirror that could capture everything that stood before it and reflect all their imperfections and flaws back to them.
"You are interesting."