Chapter Text
The ancient walls of the Palazzo Capponi rang with anticipation for Roman Fell’s first presentation as curator. The powerful man who stood at the front of the room only bore a passing resemblance to the real Dr. Fell but that hardly mattered as long as he performed just as well. The Palazzo may play host to academic events but it was as much of a performance as an opera. On the part of the lecturer and the attendees. The wealthy florentines who had today found themselves perched softly on the edge of thin golden chairs of the hall attended events like this to be seen at them more so than to see the event. And so was Hannibal Lecter.
Scanning the crowd from the front of the room Hannibal couldn’t help but bask in the totality of it all. After all, for him this wasn't just a performance it was about finally being seen by the one man who mattered to him. That’s what this was all about. Bedelia has been correct about how lonely it could get behind a veil.
The clock at the back of the room signaled it was time to begin the talk and Hannibal took the last moment he could to try and locate Will in the crowd. He felt his heart grow cold when he found he could not locate the younger man. Hannibal felt slighted that his Will would do him such an impropriety but he had a job to do. Hannibal straightened up and the entire crowd studied it’s attention on him. So Hannibal Begin:
“In accord with my own tastes in for the pre-Renaissance, I present the case of Pietro della Vigna, whose treachery earned him a place in Dante’s Hell. He was disgraced and blinded for betraying his emperor’s trust.”
“Dante’s Pilgrim finds him in the seventh level of the Inferno, reserved for suicides. Like Judas Iscariot, he died by hanging. Judas and Pietro della Vigna are linked in Dante’s Inferno. Betrayal, hanging… then, linked since antiquity, the image appearing again and again in art. This is the earliest known depiction of the Crucifixion, carved on an ivory box in Gaul about A.D. four hundred. It includes the death by hanging of Judas, his face upturned to the branch that suspends him. On the doors of the Benevento Cathedral we see Judas hanging with his bowels falling out. And here, from a fifteenth-century edition of The Inferno, is Pietro della Vigna’s body hanging from a bleeding tree. I won’t belabor the parallels with Jucas Iscariot. Betrayal, hanging, self-destruction. ‘Lo fei gibetto a me de la mie case.’ “I make my own home be my gallows.”
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The speech was not unfamiliar to Hannibal. It had, in some form, been percolating in his mind since the fateful night in his Baltimore kitchen. In its infancy the words about betrayal and faith would have ideally been whispered directly into Will’s ear. But in the end, the grand architecture of the Palazzo made for a stage Hannibal had only dreamed of.
“Thank you for your kind attention" Hannibal said, drawing this part of his his performance to a close. In response a dry applause rang out at those final words as Hannibal basked in the attention of the Capponi.
As Hannibal watched the crowd flowed out from the hall, he felt his eyes catch on a familiar figure. Will Graham sat, one leg crossed over the other, perched on the end of one of the dainty golden chairs that made up the seating in the hall. Will’s eyes locked on to Hannibal, as if sensing the doctor’s gaze. This Will Graham was a far cry from the man who couldn't even look Hannibal in the eye when they had first met in Jack Crawford’s office. But now those once guarded blue eyes of Will’s were full of some dark twisted kind of mirth, a look Hannibal recognized from the mirror.
Will’s mouth quirked in a smile as he rose from his seat. Hannibal wished he could smile back but there was far to much at stake in this game. Instead, he turned back the podium which still held the notes from his lecture. Hannibal tried to focus on organizing his papers, letting but come to him, but Will was far to tempting. He found he could hardly help himself from sneaking glances at Will’s approaching form. Hannibal would scarcely have recognized the man before him as Will Graham had he not forged the man himself. This Will Graham carried himself with so much confidence and charm even Hannibal could probably have been convicted Will had always been this way.
There was a cough off to his left and Hannibal noticed Professor Sogliato standing far closer to him than was strictly necessary. It was only threw year of practice that Hannibal was able to suppress a sneer at Sogliato’s rudeness. The man was a bother, yes. But he was also the last person standing in the way of Hannibal’s formal recognition as Curator at the Palazzo.
“Would you say I secured my position, Professor Sogliato?”
“The Studiolo seem… satisfied” Sogliato replied. Hannibal could tell he did not necessarily share the sentiment. But that wasn't important. Not when Will Graham stood hovering over Sogliato’s shoulder
“Satisfied?” Will cut in with the kind of confidence one tended to find only in academics and psychopaths. “I thought the applause was downright enthusiastic in its soft and dusty way.”
“Dottore Fell is a friend of yours?” Soligatu asked not even turning to acknowledge Will even as he spoke directly to the other man.
“I used to teach.” Will answered coyly “Doctor Fell’s unique body of work was very useful to myself and my students.So naturally he has to show up and get himself involved. The Tales I could tell.” Will added conspiratorially before offering a coy smile towards Hannibal. Who offered a tentative tight lipped smile of his own not sure where Will was taking the conversation.
“Please do.” Soligatu jumped at the chance to get more information about the man he knew as Roman Fell.
Will had always claimed to be a great fisherman but when Hannibal had been dangling on the end of his hook he hadn’t realized the full extent of the other man’s skills. Will’s proficiency was on clear display to him now.
“What kind of friend would I be?” Will answered warmly, his eyes had locked onto Hannibal’s face. “To tell such stories in a public setting.”
“What kind of friend, indeed.” Soligautu replied in a way that insinuated he understood Will’s words to imply a relation that less than platonic. Soligautu was probably a wiser man than Hannibal had given him credit for. Or maybe Hannibal had given his own subtlety too much credit when it came to his less than professional interest in Will. Soliagatu bowed to Hannibal with a quick “Dottore” before turning on his heal and making his way quickly out of the hall.
As the sound of Soliagatu’s footsteps grew quieter, the small smile on Will’s lips grew into a conspiratorial grin. Hannibal kept his lips pressed together and only raised his eyebrows, trying to conceal his mirth. Will stepped slightly closer to Hannibal as if he had something he wanted to say. But instead it only provided Hannibal a better vantage point when Will’s charming mask faltered for a second. Leaving only the broken down Will of long ago. Will tuned to look at the display cases filled with old weapons and torture devices, gather himself again no doubt.
“An exposition of Atrocious Torture Instruments appeals to the connoisseurs of the very worst in mankind” Will announced wandering down the row, peering at the gruesome objects behind the glass.
“Now that ceaseless exposure has calloused us into the lewd and the vulgar. It is instructive to see what still seems wicked to us.” Hannibal replied evenly, words dripping with unspoken offer and excuse. Will scoffed.
“What still slaps the clammy flab of our submissive consciousness hard enough to get our attention?” Will spit the words with a surprising amount of venom for the mirth he has been showing in the conversation.
Hannibal licked his lips.
“What wickedness has your attention, Mr. Graham?” Hannibal said harshly, daring Will to answer in the honest way they both knew he would have to.
“Yours… Dr. Fell.” Will responded in a heavy, wicked tone. “I”m under no delusions about morality; You removed such delusions from my mind a long time ago. If I still had them I would be here with the full force of the FBI. I can’t help to wonder what fate befell Dr. Fell to see you here in his stead. Then I could tell you what happened to Anthony”
“You may have to strap me too the Breaking Wheel to loosen my tongue” Hannibal leaned close to Will, delivering the words is lilt bordering on erotic.
“You overestimate my level of empathy for the genuine Dr. Fell. My tastes have changed Doctor, you saw the that. I found Dr. Fell just as distasteful as you.“ Will replied exasperated.
“On the contrary, Will” Hannibal smiled and Will’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance and understanding.
“We can twist ourselves into all manner of uncomfortable positions just to maintain appearances.” Will replied in quiet, even tone. His eyes snapping to bore into Hannibal’s own before adding: “with or without a breaking wheel”
“Are you here to twist me into uncomfortable positions Will?” Hannibal raised his eyebrows. Despite Will’s implications he was here on his own Hannibal couldn’t help but find he didn’t exactly believe that.
“I’m here to help you untwist to our mutual benefit” Will show his head slightly, smiling benevolently.