Behind the Mask: A Hannigram Fanfiction

18- Cara

Transcribed interview with prisoner Hannibal Lecter-- shortly after seven o'clock in the morning, the 27th of April

John ("Jack") Crawford: Doctor Lecter, we've called you here so you can get your act together. We'd very much like to hear your side of the story. You were adamant last night that you are completely innocent.

Lecter does not speak.

JC: If you stay silent, you're only going to be in here longer. Unless your coworker, Mister Graham, can come up with a damn good alibi for you, then to me, it looks like you're guilty.

Lecter does not speak.

JC: If you're going to waste my time, then I'm going to put you back in the cell. This is only making you look worse, Doctor.

Lecter does not speak. Crawford sighs. End transcript.
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     William slept restlessly, stuck in a cycle of horrific nightmares and periods of laying wide awake in the dark. It wasn't the prospect of being alone that bothered him so much; he was good at being alone, considering how he'd done it all of his life. No, it was the thought of Hannibal laying on the hard floor of a prison cell, feeling the walls closing in on him as his traumatized mind piled snow outside of the door. That beautiful, sad language on his tongue.
     He wanted to go straight to the station as soon as the sun rose, but he knew that a move like that wouldn't be productive. Jack wasn't inclined to believe him. He needed something concrete, and he needed to go to the woman whom he hated the most in that moment. The thought of facing Margot made his blood boil. It was her impatience, her baseless "testimony" that caused all of this. She couldn't wait a few more days?
     He had to face her, though. He had to get her to recount her statement. She had promised that day to be their alibi-- William hoped to God that she would follow through.
     Before he left the house, he changed out of his sweat-soaked clothes and surveyed the mess he'd left in the dining room. He shook his head and retrieved a broom from the closet.
     After sweeping all of the broken glass into the bin, mopping up the floor of last night's ruined, sticky dinner, and making sure there were no marks on the walls, William felt strangely calm. He understood where Hannibal's love for perfection came from; there was something so satisfying about a spotless home. Perhaps if he cleaned up enough physical messes, it would be enough for his ruined mind, too.
     He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Over the course of just one sleepless night, the massive purple circles under his eyes were back. Gone was the man with a bright face, borrowing suits and cuddling under blankets and kissing cheeks. It was a shocking reminder of the past.
     The walk to the Verger home was quiet. It was early enough in the morning that no one wanted to brave the outside just yet, content to watch the sunrise from their homes and emerge when the time was right for them. William did not have that choice. He needed to get Hannibal back before he could ever enjoy anything again.
     He knew that it was silly to have such a breakdown over his love being gone for a day. He knew that, most likely, Hannibal would be out of there by the end of today. It wasn't the man himself he was mourning, though-- it was their peaceful life here. It was the delusion that they were hidden here, the thought that they could stay right in the place they called home without any troubles. Now, everything was uprooted. Hannibal would be scarred by this experience. They would have to go somewhere else.
     He hadn't broken down over the eternal loss of the man he loved. He knew he would get that back. He had broken down because none of this was fair. They had chosen to become sinful killers, and that was their fault, but everything else was so terribly unfair. William's twisted anxieties, Hannibal's trauma, Jack's refusal to listen to anyone but himself, Chilton's ugly glares, Mason laughing as he discussed killing his wife and sister. The way that the world saw two men in love as something to be feared and taunted.
     As he raised his fist to knock on the Verger's front door, he found himself hesitating to wake the family up. He quickly shook that thought away-- they didn't deserve his respect-- and pounded on the door with all of his might. He waited for a minute or two, and finally the knob turned.
     The last person he expected to see was Alana. She stood in the doorway, her face pale and her eyes tired, and when she saw William she visibly deflated. She was dressed for the day, so she had been up a while, but she didn't look like it.
     "I am sorry to bother you, Mrs. Verger," William said. He didn't have the energy to even offer a polite smile. "I was looking for Margot. Hannibal and I have a situation that requires--"
     "Mister Graham." Alana stepped aside. "Will you come in? Please?"
     She looked so desperate that it took William by surprise. Frowning, he followed her into the house, remembering the living room from their last visit. Of course, he couldn't show any recognition.
     "Please, come sit." She nearly collapsed onto the couch, appearing to be light-headed. Her breath was shaky as if she were about to cry.
     "Mrs. Verger?" William sat next to her. "Are you feeling alright?"
     "She is not here," Alana said. "Margot is not here. I hope this isn't urgent."
     It is. But what could he say? How could he explain himself?
     "I am truly sorry for your loss," he told her, bowing his head. "It is such a tragedy."
     "God is with me." She attempted to smile, but it quickly fell off her face. "Our town is bathing in tragedy recently, isn't it? Il Mostro. Frederick. My husband."
     "Excuse me, Madame?" A man in uniform stuck his head into the room. "May I get you and your guest anything?"
     Alana jumped up, flustered. She was ghostly pale. "Oh, of course! I'm so sorry, Mister Graham. Oh, my manners...I'll get us some tea."
     William held up his hands. "Oh, no, you do not have to. I cannot stay for long."
     "Nonsense." She turned to the man. "Get Mister Graham and I some tea, Signore. Please."
     The servant turned and left the room. Alana blinked back tears.
     "I am so sorry," she said again. She placed a hand on her chest. "I am all over the place. I'm so lost without.."
     William felt a pang of guilt in his chest. Mason deserved to die, but his family didn't deserve to be left behind. Alana sank back down onto the couch and hesitantly held out her arms.
     "..May I?" She asked, blushing. William couldn't outright refuse; he let her embrace him.
     "Did she pay you?" She whispered in his ear.
     William's heart stopped. He didn't know how to respond.
     "I'm sorry?"
     "Did Margot pay you?"
     William remembered the bag of money that Margot had slipped in his pocket. Once he had taken it out of his pocket the day before and opened it, he and Hannibal had counted a sum that was almost shocking.
     "..Yes, Madame, she did."
     "Good." Alana pulled back just before the servant reentered the room. He set two cups of hot tea on the coffee table.
     "Grazi," the two muttered. Alana waited until he was out of the room to speak again.
     "I am very sorry she threatened you," she said. "I would not have done things the way she did."
     "She told us you didn't know."
     Alana smirked despite her sickly appearance. "I love Margot with all of my heart, but she is the worst liar I have ever met. Poor dear. Looks like we both had the same idea."
     William decided not to drink the tea. He knew the risk all too well. "I'm not sure I understand, Mrs. Verger."
     "My husband never loved me. All of this time, he never even found out that I speak English." Her voice cracked. "He invited Frederick over for dinner a few weeks ago. They began to talk openly about their plans..and they wanted to kill me and Margot." She fiddled with her necklace. "Take our shares of the Verger fortune all for themselves.
     William feigned surprise. So Mason hadn't been bluffing. "I am so sorry."
     "I told Margot as soon as she got home. Mia cara is a feisty thing. I could see the murder in her eyes. I knew she had her sights set on killing Mason before he could kill us, and she could not lie her way out of it. I suppose it was some futile effort at protecting me from the whole situation." She shrugged. "And the worst part is that I didn't try to stop her. She could have been badly hurt, and I didn't speak up." Her lip quivered.
     "Something tells me that Margot will not be stopped once she makes up her mind," he reassured her. "There was likely nothing you could have done."
     "My husband was an evil, lying cheater. Chilton was somehow even worse." She shuddered. "It's why..it's why I don't feel bad for doing what I did."
     William stiffened. She had his full attention now. "What you did?"
     "Oh, I am a monster." Tears began to run down her face. "I do not care about his feelings, about his sanctity of life; I care about what God thinks of me. I hope every day that God can forgive me for what I've done to Frederick." She shook her head. "I didn't mean to, Mister Graham, I swear!"
     "I believe you, Madame." William shifted closer. "But you must tell me what happened."
     "Frederick invited me over to discuss family matters. He knew some of my family members, and he said he wanted to talk. I knew about the plan by then, and so did Margot-- that's why I didn't tell her where I was going. That was so foolish of me, I know now." She let out a soft cry. "I brought Margot's gun, just in case. It was in my bag, but I never ended up needing it.
     "He gave me a drink. When he walked out of the room for a moment, there was something itching in the back of my mind, some impulse that I couldn't ignore. I felt like my drink was not safe, so I swapped our glasses. I figured that the worst thing that could happen is that he gets my drink and I get his, and he never notices. But..I don't know what was in it, but he was frothing at the mouth in minutes."
     "Oh, my goodness."
     "I know." Alana's eyes were haunted. "It wasn't long before he was unconscious. I...I did not want to simply leave him there, so I dragged him into the bedroom." She shut her eyes. "I put him under the covers and left. I ran."
     "You did not mean to kill him, Madame. It was a complete accident." William placed a hand on her shoulder. "Frederick was the evil one. Frederick was the murderer. You are, in fact, very brave for what you did."
     "It was some random thought. Something I couldn't explain.."
     William understood the notion. He understood the situation that Alana had found herself in: she has grown to love someone she wasn't supposed to love, and the rest of the world had turned against her. In some inexplicable impulse, she made a move that saved herself while ending someone else.
     William saw himself in that. Almost scarily so.
     "It's odd. I thought I loved him. Perhaps I did, at some point in time." She laughed without humor. "But then he struck me. I cannot remember why. It was a horrific moment for me.
     "That night, I could not stand to sleep near him. When he snored, I went into Margot's room. As I stood over her..saw her come awake.." Alana got a wistful look in her eyes. "Her soft lips and her sweet brown eyes, still clouded with sleep, they created this new feeling in me. I shed tears, and she welcomed me into her bed, her arms.."
     William knew where the story was going to go, and he felt the need to stop her. "Mrs. Verger," he said, placing a hand on her forearm. "This is your story to tell. It does not have to be mine to hear."
     "Margot told me that you and Hannibal.."
     "We know each other intimately. We are lovers." William realized how nice it was to let the words out. "So I understand."
     "I love Margot. She makes me feel appreciated. I believe that is what love is. Not what Mason gave me."
     "She makes you feel like you are the only other person in the world."
     "Yes."
     "You two deserve to be happy." He leaned forward. "I truly mean that— you two are brave, and you are strong, and you deserve each other. Your love is beautiful, just as much so as it would be between a man and a woman. God brought you together for a reason." He lowered his voice to nearly a whisper. "But..the man I love is in prison for a crime he did not commit."
     Alana smiled softly. "Oh, I know," she said. "Where do you think Margot is?"
     "She—"
     "She will explain everything. After all, you two paid us a visit on the night of Frederick's death. Mason was not at home. He killed Frederick to have the money to himself." She shrugged. "Bedelia was not home. For all she knows, Mason was over there. From a distance, it's easy for a witness to mistake Mason for Hannibal, and the second person could have simply been a pedestrian. She regrets sending that tip in, but she's going to try to fix it."
     William's shoulders fell in relief. "You two have it all figured out."
      "My husband wanted me dead. He planned with Chilton to murder me, and then he stabbed Chilton in the back." Her eyes hardened. "It is exactly the story Detective Crawford is searching for. Can you uphold it? For all of us?"
     "I swear. We will keep all of your secrets."
     "We will keep yours. Margot is more bark than bite, I promise you. She was very afraid. I am sorry she did this to you."
     "I admire her confidence. She has been horrifically abused, and so have you. I am only glad she's following through on being our alibi."
     "She will not show it, but she is grateful."
     "As am I." William stood. "I suppose I need to get over there. He wanted to interview me anyway— hopefully with both of us there, the story will take form."
     "Shall I see you out?"
     "No need. I know my way around." The two shared a knowing stare, nodding to each other. "Thank you, Mrs. Verger."
     "Please, you don't have to call me that." She smiled. "That is not my name anymore."
William ran to get the man he loved.