Folie à Trois: a Will X Hannibal

The Murder Magnet...

Narrator's POV

As much as Will accepted and embraced his Becoming, he still swore that he was a 'murder magnet'.

Hannibal had raised a graying-eyebrow when he had first said that during a Jack-sanctioned therapy session after the whole ordeal with the med-student turned organ harvester.

The former police officer knew his husband well enough that Hannibal was asking what he meant even thought he obviously did.

"Give me your opinion, Dr. Lecter, why do so many psychopaths and serial killers take refuge in Baltimore? Eldon Stammets, Abel Gideon, Tobias Budge, Matthew Brown, Randall Tier, Francis Dolarhyde, you, me; all of us killers that call Baltimore home." Will said, "Is it because Baltimore is one of the biggest cities in the country, yet not so big that our crimes can be glossed over? Is it because we're just a little more than an hour drive away from the nation's capital? Or perhaps, because were in the biggest city closest to Quantico, close enough to tease the F.B.I. with our designs?"

***

Around a week later, Will was teaching one of his classes when he got the call from Jack to meet him at the Baltimore Metropolitan Orchestra Hall.

"The victim is Douglas Wilson, a member of the orchestra's brass section." Jack informed as Will walked up the stairs to the stage, "A trombone player. He was killed shortly after his last performance. Blunt force trauma to the back of the head."

Will circled around the corpse, staring at the exposed vocal cords pressing against the neck of the cello, his voice steady instead of the shakiness he had last time around, "His killer brought him here to put on a show."

Jack's stance visually tensed, "Will, is it me, or is it becoming easier for you to look?

"It's purely an intellectual exercise." Will calmly said, still circling the corpse like a vulture waiting to peck

Jack's eyes narrowed, "Well, in the narrow view of forensics, that's exactly what it is."

Will turned to face him, "I'm fine, Jack; I went on sick leave awhile ago, got my head back on."

"Good." Jack replied, turning to leave so Will could 'work his magic', "Get to work. We'll come back in when you're ready for us."

On cue, the F.B.I. forensics team exited the room to allow Will to work without witness.

Will turned back to the body once the door closed behind Jack, closing his eyes he invisibles the golden pendulum swinging in his mind.

Once he opened his blue eyes, Will saw the scene of the murder from the killer's perspective as always, "I open his throat from the outside to access the trachea and expose the vocal chords. I open his throat from the inside using the neck of a cello. Powder on the wound: rosin from the bow."

Within his mental reconstruction, Will picked up the bow, holding the strings against the vocal cords, "I wanted to play him. I wanted to create a sound. My sound."

As he began to play a deep and somber piece, the brunette whispered, "This is my design."

A loud clapping was heard; looking up within his mind Will saw not the ghost of Garret Jacob Hobbs, but rather Hannibal and Abigail dressed for the opera, watching him perform.

***

Once they arrived back at Quantico, Will didn't have anymore classes to teach so he watched the team go through the victim's autopsy.

"Played him like a fiddle." Zeller commented, "Along with rosin powder, we found sodium carbonate, sulfur dioxide, lye, and olive oil in the wounds. What is the deal with the olive oil?

"Sure wasn't making salad." Price replied, "He removed anything non-muscular or fatty from around the vocal folds.

"The chords themselves were treated with a sulfur dioxide solution." The tallest of the forensic trio added

Price then explained to Will, "The sulfur dioxide had the effect of hardening the vocal chords."

"Made them easier to play." Will slowly said, showing understanding before staring at the corpse and bitterly saying, "Had to open you up to get a decent sound out of you."

The three examiners stared at him for a moment in shock before Beverly tried to lighten the mood, "You pick it up and can't play it, he'll put you down and play you."

"He took the time to whiten the vocal chords before playing them." Zeller noted

"It's not about whitening them; It was about, um, increasing elasticity." Will interjected

"He treated the vocal chords the same way you treat catgut string." Beverley added before turning back to her co-workers, "Yes, I played the violin."

"This takes a steady hand. A confidence. He's killed before." Will informed

"Like this?" Zeller asked

Will shook his head, "No, not like this. This is a skilled musician trying a new instrument."

***

An hour or so later, when Will got into his car, he pulled out his phone and called his husband, "Are you free?"

"For you? Always, mylimasis." Hannibal replied, "But, yes, I have seen my last patient for the day and was locking up."

"Good." Will replied, a slight blush gracing his cheeks from his husband's sweetness, "Interested in getting your harpsichord restrung?"...