Hannibal

[alcuin]

Alcuin Delaunay sat at a small metal table in a police interrogation room, his hands folded tightly in his lap to stop them from trembling. The fluorescent light above him buzzed faintly.

He had dressed carefully that morning, choosing a dove-gray cashmere sweater and black slacks—simple, elegant, deliberately unassuming. His usual style, though today it kind of felt like a costume. He tugged at the cuffs, his fingers brushing the faint smudge of charcoal still clinging to his skin from sketching the night before. He hadn’t been able to sleep and had tried to distract himself, but his drawings had turned out like every other attempt for the past three days: dark, jagged lines, incomplete.

He had barely stepped out of his car at the studio lot that morning when two detectives intercepted him. Their tone had been polite but firm—Could he come down to the station to answer a few questions about Anafiel Vessar?—and the polite veneer didn’t fool him for a second. He had agreed, of course; refusing would have only made things worse.

Alcuin rubbed his thumb along the edge of his palm, an old nervous habit, as he replayed his last moments at Anafiel’s house for the hundredth time. He had been careful, hadn’t he? The door locked behind him. The lights off. He'd already admitted to the police that he'd been there that day, and (convincingly, he thought) expressed his uncertainty about the exact time. Perhaps someone had seen him to pinpoint it more exactly, in a way that might be damning? A neighbor? A camera? Or even worse, had he left behind some damning piece of evidence in his panic? His fingerprints all over the house could be explained easily enough...

His breath hitched at the thought. You could have saved him, a small voice in his mind whispered, insidious and relentless. If you’d stayed—if you hadn’t run—he might still be alive.

Thank God, he thought, that was an actor. He thought he'd gotten through that interrogation pretty well, but they'd told him to stay put, that someone else would be coming to talk to him.

Comments

[alcuin]

"I see," Alcuin said, nodding. He had, throughout this, been paying close attention. Even though he wasn't taking notes, it seemed somehow clear that he was committing the information to memory.

"And I feel I need to confirm, given our initial meeting, that your relationship with the police department does not implicate confidentiality. My understanding is that a psychiatrist is only required to report imminent threat of harm to self or others, abuse or neglect, or in some jurisdictions communicable diseases that pose a public health threat."

Alcuin was the sort of person that did research.

[anamusebouche]

A smile tugged at Hannibal's lips. Clearly Alcuin had done his research well. He nodded. "Everything you say here, stays here. I'm under no obligation to report anything you say. I take doctor patient confidentiality very seriously."

[alcuin]

“All right,” Alcuin said, satisfied. “Could we start by you telling me what you already know about me? My Wikipedia page, my films, the tabloids… I would just like to be aware.”

[anamusebouche]

"I'm aware of your Wikipedia page, but I put no value on its contents," Hannibal supplied. "I did conduct some research on you - I imagine you did the same with me. So, I'm aware of what the tabloids wrote about you, though I'm more interested in how that impacts you and not the content of what they say about you. From our brief encounter, though, I do believe that there is some truth to what the press says about your relation with Vessar. I'm sure we will explore it."

Then, after a short beat. "I quite enjoyed 'Echoes of Glass'."

[alcuin]

A little smile tugged at Alcuin’s lips. “I’m… very proud of that one.”

[anamusebouche]

"It was quite a performance," Hannibal conceded. "How did you land the role?"

[alcuin]

There was a brief flicker of discomfort across Alcuin's face. Not at the answer, but at the question. "The director saw my guest spot in Law and Order," Alcuin said. "He requested that I audition." And he was proud of this, too. It was a role the the was proud of, and getting it had nothing to do with Anafiel pulling strings or... other things.

[anamusebouche]

Hannibal saw the minute show of discomfort as if it were written plainly on his face. "A straight-forward way to land a role," Hannibal said, suggesting in his tone that he knew there was more to it.

[alcuin]

“It was,” Alcuin said. “It hasn’t always been.” There was a long pause. “I don’t - I don’t really know where to start. This feels a bit like I’m in a confessional.” He hadn’t been in one of the those in nearly a decade.

[anamusebouche]

"We can start in more comfortable places," Hannibal suggested. "But first, what made you accept my offer of therapy?"

[alcuin]

"I ah... I realized I don't... have anyone to talk to," Alcuin said. "And that perhaps that wasn't good." There were a number of things he'd been realizing in the time since Anafiel's death. One was how isolated he was. Another was how much that may have been intentional.

[anamusebouche]

"Since Anafiel's death?" Hannibal guessed gently.

[alcuin]

Alcuin nodded. “And I’m between roles right now, I start shooting something in a few weeks. I haven’t really known what to do with myself, I’ve found myself just… staring at the wall sometimes.”

[anamusebouche]

"Did you spend a lot of time with him?" Hannibal asked. Finally, the young man would have to admit to him what the relation was between them.

[alcuin]

Alcuin ran a hand through his hair, and after a moment, nodded. “I… loved him.” But even in his voice, it was almost like there was an asterisk at the end. A footnote of it’s complicated.

[anamusebouche]

Hannibal nodded only, pleased that this was out. "Then will you tell me about your relationship with him?"

[alcuin]

“He was…” Alcuin was clearly struggling now. With words, but also holding back emotion. “My advocate, my mentor, and yes my lover and… I don’t know, maybe it wasn’t always healthy. It was complicated.”

[anamusebouche]

"Healthy," Hannibal echoed. "How so? Was he abusive?"

[alcuin]

“No,” said Alcuin quickly. But then as soon as the word left his mouth he seemed to hesitate, and then said, “I mean. Certainly not physically and not even emotionally. But I suppose if I had to look back objectively… I think he was isolating me. Manipulating maybe.” He sounded reluctant.

[anamusebouche]

"It can be difficult to admit to ourselves the darker sides of those we love," Hannibal offered. "I'm not here to judge Anafiel," he assured the young man. "Only to investigate the impact he had on you and your well-being. Clearly talking about him fills you with anxiety."

[alcuin]

“It’s just that I’d only recently started having these feelings. I’d never… pushed back, before. I suppose I’m feeling guilty for feeling anything but grief.”

[anamusebouche]

"Ah," Hannibal replied. "Were these feelings reciprocated?"

[alcuin]

Alcuin was confused for a moment by the question. "Do you mean, was Anafiel also having doubts about our relationship? I think he seemed... disappointed, that I was pushing back. I imagine he was accustomed to me just trusting him implicitly."

[anamusebouche]

"How long were you together then?" Hannibal asked.

[alcuin]

"He became my manager seven years ago," Alcuin said. "Romantically involved for... five or six." He paused, and then added, "I um. I actually first met him when I was a child, though."

This was not on his Wikipedia page, or even in the tabloids. The official story was that Anafiel "discovered" him randomly.