Hannibal

[will_you_see]

When Agent Hotchner told Alcuin that one of the names on his list was missing, having not been to his place of business for several days, Alcuin had hoped fervently that it was not Anthony Petrovich. It was. And though he had hidden it well, this had sent Alcuin into a tailspin of panic. He wasn't even entirely sure what he was afraid of, just

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[anamusebouche]

Hannibal was curious by nature, and he liked being surprised by people’s reaction to his influences, whether they were aware of them or not. It had been a long time ago, however, that he had last surprised himself. He thought, in his age and with his knowledge of psychology, that he could not be surprised by facets of his own personality. He thought he knew all the corners of his mind, and understood them well. He'd come to a strange realization a few days ago.

Luring him to this abandoned warehouse under false pretences had been easy. There he had hunted the man down with a dart gun giving him increasing doses of paralytic, until he fell over motionless. He had mounted the man on some crates and began operating on him, opening his abdomen first and slowly working his way up until he reached the diaphragm and cutting upward through to his chest. The pain was only visible in the man’s eyes as he was drugged to paralyse him but not to relieve pain.

But as Hannibal cut further into the man, he realized that this was new to him.

Yes, Petrovich was a very rude man and this was a fate becoming of him. But Petrovich had not been rude to him. Petrovich had nothing to do with Hannibal. There was nothing personal in this kill. Hannibal had taken Alcuin’s word for it and sealed Petrovitch' fate with it.

Petrovich would die and his heart would be served to the young man he had caused such pain.

There was a morality to that sentiment that Hannibal wasn’t accustomed to, caused by a sense of protectiveness Hannibal wasn’t prone to feeling.

At last the heart was released, calmly, painfully, a scalpel tearing through arteries slowly, to prevent spraying, but leaving the man bleeding profusely. Eventually, the heart stopped beating, and Petrovich died.

He disappeared then - no display. Hannibal could not afford the murder to look like any of the previous public ones. Instead, the man had simply vanished off the face of the earth and - in parts - into Hannibal’s freezer.

Now, he locked the door to his practice and spotted a worried-looking Alcuin when he turned.

"Alcuin," he greeted with a light smile. "Is something the matter?"

[will_you_see]

"Anthony Petrovich is missing," Alcuin blurted. "And I'm panicking and I don't know why."

[anamusebouche]

The worried look on Alcuin's face made Hannibal think over his actions. He could not have displayed the man, and he would not have murdered him in any conventional, banal way. He had not considered Alcuin's reaction would be one of panic, but then again, he had not considered Alcuin's reaction at all. His killings were not for another in principle.

Hannibal frowned and unlocked the door to his practice again. "Come in," he said.

When they were inside he turned to the young man. "Vanished?"

[will_you_see]

"Agent Hotchner told me," Alcuin said. "The FBI couldn't find him to question him." He followed along, already feeling calmer just being in his presence. "I saw him last week. He was horrible."

[anamusebouche]

"You met with him?" Worried now, because he didn't know if that meant that Alcuin had started working again.

[will_you_see]

Alcuin shook his head. "He stopped me on the street. And suddenly it occurred to me that he might be the one who killed him, and I think I had a panic attack."

[anamusebouche]

"You were alone?" They moved to Hannibal's office, which was the only room with seats in it.

Hannibal let Alcuin in first, to give him the chance to sit where and how he preferred to sit.

[will_you_see]

"I was alone," said Alcuin, "when he approached me. He grabbed my arm and it must have looked... threatening, because a stranger intervened. And then he left."

Alcuin sat down on the couch, sitting with his elbows on his knees and resting his head in his hands.

[anamusebouche]

"Good." A curt nod. Not that it mattered. Petrovich would do no further harm. "Would you like something to drink?" Hannibal offered.

[will_you_see]

"I think perhaps I could do with a glass of wine," Alcuin said, and forced himself to look up at Hannibal. "I know I'm being irrational. I don't even know that Petrovich was involved in Anafiel's death, or even if he was, that his disappearance is somehow foreboding."

[anamusebouche]

Hannibal poured two glasses before turning back and sitting himself next to Alcuin on the couch. "You mean he could have vanished on purpose," Hannibal said. It was not something he had considered. He didn't. When he killed, he got what he wished from the act itself and the dinner that followed. But of course Alcuin - even when presented with Petrovich' heart - would not know it was him. Usually that didn't matter - Hannibal got what he wanted.

It seemed to matter now, though.

[will_you_see]

"Perhaps he found out somehow that the police were coming to question him," Alcuin said. He didn't reach for the wine just yet, turning his body towards Hannibal's when he sat down next to him.

"When he approached me on the street he said that he hoped I hadn't retired, and then... he said he'd call on me later."

[anamusebouche]

"I'm sure the police will find him," Hannibal said. He had Petrovich' thigh in the freezer. Perhaps he should let it be found somewhere. Perhaps he should through it in a lake and let it surface. It would ruin most forensic information, but the police would still be able to identify him. That was all Hannibal required them to.

"Have you retired?" He asked after a beat. "Have you considered what to do with the business?"

[will_you_see]

"I suppose I have," Alcuin said quietly. "And the business doesn't seem like mine, not really. I've spoken to some of the employees, and they'll... be fine." He offered a sheepish little smile. "I'm more worried about my own ability to adapt than theirs."

[anamusebouche]

"Do you fear financial difficulties?" Hannibal asked. "Or social isolation?"

[will_you_see]

"I fear not knowing what to do with myself," Alcuin admitted. "Of being useless. At least I was good at what I did."