Chapter Text
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The panoramic view of the city never got old for Hannibal. He liked being on top, in every sense of the word. Only he knew the truth behind his enterprise’s growth, and Machiavellian maneuvers he employed. He could play fair, but where was the fun in that? He was a former psychiatrist, and thinking about the way he used his psychiatric prowess to pull the strings in his company made him smirk even now.
He might think he never showed-off the fact that half the city's advanced infrastructure, and the high-speed maglev trains running around were all built by his company, but that wasn't the case. His pride often flaunted itself like a peacock. He couldn’t have gotten where he was without being a bit nefarious at times. It would surprise no one if Hannibal bought an entire island with a resort on it, considering the money he made. He was capable of anything.
Yet, all the glistening high-rises and the flamboyant luxury didn’t exactly fill all the voids in his life. It did bore him at times even though he loved living the high-life. There was one particular gaping void that tormented him up until now.
Solitude.
He sat in his seat, rotating slowly towards the windows as he twirled a pen in his hand. His life lacked taste. Of course that taste was mostly fulfilled by his late night… hunts. He wanted more, but he didn’t know what exactly. He’d hoped that whatever he was missing would show up in front of him the way everything else in his life did—on a silver platter. Figuratively.
A bunch of blueprints for a new residential complex were laid out in front of him, but he paid no attention to it. Not when his face was fixed in a contemplative gaze at the cityscape. A brief knock on the door snapped Hannibal out of his reverie. He glanced at the doorway as the door opened and Alana Bloom stepped through the threshold, elegant as ever in her red formal dress and black blazer. Her high heels clacked on the floor as she walked towards Hannibal.
“Your new candidate is here,” she said. “Shall I bring him up?”
“My potential secretary, if he possesses the right qualities,” Hannibal replied.
Alana half-smiled. “That’s what you said about the last twenty candidates, and then kicked them out merely ten seconds into the interview. You didn’t even give them the opportunity to prove themselves.”
Hannibal twirled the pen near his head. “That’s because it takes ten seconds for me to figure out if they’re the perfect fit. I waste no time, Alana. I’m adept at reading people.”
“I’m sure. But I'd like to think this next one will prove a match.”
Hannibal gave her a side-glance. “You seem confident.”
Alana smiled. “That’s because I know him well. It’s the very reason I referred him to you.”
“Yes.” Hannibal dropped the pen and picked up the candidate profile in front of him. “Will Graham. The only fascinating mystery is why a former FBI agent would be interested in a lackluster job such as this.”
“Maybe you need to ask him that yourself.”
She left and a couple of minutes later, a man stepped in. By his mere presence alone, he grabbed all of Hannibal’s attention. Hannibal caught the blue gaze of the man, picking up on his aura quite instantly. First impressions were everything to Hannibal and this man gave a hell of an impression without uttering a word. It was as though his mere presence stopped time.
“I hope I’m not intruding,” the man spoke, his voice soft, bit rough around the edges in a provocative way. He was absolutely unfazed by Hannibal. Not a shred of fear as the other candidates had.
The corners of Hannibal’s mouth curved up into a slight smile as his eyes skimmed over the man’s features, registering those blue eyes looking right into his soul, those red lips, and the short waves of chocolate hair. He imagined what it would be like to feel those unbelievably soft strands between his fingers.
“Will Graham,” Hannibal said. “Please have a seat.”
Will hung his coat on the seat across the table from him, and sat down, spreading his legs wide. Hannibal registered that too. The way his eyes shamelessly darted to Will's crotch even if it was for a split-second, was beyond his control.
“My only question to you is why you would leave a challenging job such as yours to become a secretary,” Hannibal said. “You look like a man who prefers the morbid over the mundane.”
“Then you don’t know me at all. Sometimes the mundane is exactly the kind of escape I need.”
“What are you escaping from?”
Will tilted his head. “Myself.”
Hannibal leaned forward, placing his intertwined hands on the table. “And you thought becoming a secretary would relieve you from the nightmare of your former job? In that case, you could pick any prosaic job in any company.”
“I could, but Alana insisted I come here. She was very persistent, and something about you struck me as… interesting, Mr. Lecter. Or Doctor Lecter, if you prefer.”
Hannibal smirked. “I get the feeling you did your homework, Mr. Graham—”
“Will is fine.”
“Will. Why wouldn’t you do your homework? You’re a profiler. It’s part of your job description. And even if you’re no longer a profiler, the habit stays.”
“It does. You’re right, I know all about you. Or at least, everything you choose to present to the world.”
“What’s your impression of me?”
“Too early to say. You’re inscrutable.” Will smiled slightly. “But I love a challenge.”
The smile on Hannibal’s face stretched to a grin. "I get the feeling asking you about the company would be a ridiculous question. If you're always aware of the people around you, it's safe to say you already know everything there is to know about the company."
"You don't look like a man I'd take for being the CEO of an advanced tech company."
"Why is that?"
"Not sure. Just a feeling."
"Your feelings seem to hit the mark, Will. I admit my choice of occupation is a rather huge deviation from my past experiences. I'd be happy to have you as my new secretary. Hopefully, whatever you learn about me would impress you."
Will's eyes narrow just slightly, like he was trying to see right through Hannibal's exterior. "Like I said, you're interesting."
Hannibal did impose a certain judgment on the previous candidates. But Will had a certain charm, an astuteness. Hannibal felt a bit biased towards him, even if he didn't admit it.
"Welcome aboard, Mr. Graham." He let a hand out.
As Will shook his hand, Hannibal couldn’t resist brushing his forefinger over the veins in Will’s wrist, feeling the rhythmic throbbing of his pulse. His hand was warm. Something about Will enticed him. It could be one reason why he selected him to be his secretary.
"I look forward to working with you… sir," Will said, smirking a little. "Shall I get started today?"
Hannibal felt an invigorating rush of adrenaline just hearing him call him 'sir'. "You may."
The younger man rose from his chair. "I wonder why you gave up psychiatry."
"I loved the profession, but… I wanted to try my hand at new endeavors. I do miss being a psychiatrist, however, I do not regret where I am today."
"So, here I am, searching for the mundane while you're running far away from it."
"The mundane is unbearable, Will. What's life without a little chaos?"
Will smirked. "And the agenda for today?"
“Oh, you know, the archetypal gathering of the board of directors for a meeting that mostly entails convincing them of potential growth plans for the company which they are bound to nitpick and then question my abilities to make financial profits.”
“I presume that requires a lot of mental preparation.”
“I’ve grown used to it. Or rather, I think I have. I would be lying if I said their limited intellect didn’t strike every single one of my nerves sometimes.” Hannibal smiles as he rounds the desk and walks to Will. “But I’m lucky you will be by my side. Your welcome presence might offer me some respite.”
Will followed Hannibal to the conference room, to a group of bumptious suited men seated around a long table. Will could sense the air of conceitedness in the room, so thick he could cut it with a knife. He used to be an FBI profiler so from the mere demeanor of the directors in the room, he quickly understood Hannibal’s position, even empathizing with him.
“May I introduce you all to my newest secretary, Mr. Will Graham?” Hannibal gestured to Will while smiling at the directors. “He will be a part of our operations and a valuable asset.” He takes a seat at the head of the table while Will sits adjacent to him. “I believe you are all already aware of my plans for the company. It seems sustainable living is the way to the future, so I’ve already drawn out blueprints for what they call ‘smart buildings’, so to speak.”
One of the directors spoke up, “Are you talking about the whole smart lighting… automated climate control or something of the sort.”
“Something of the sort, Mr. Burnham, yes.”
Burnham visibly sighed. “I get your sustainability goals or whatever, but we’re looking at returns. And immediate ones.”
Hannibal maintains his composure even though this insipid argument irked him a bit. “I’m aiming for long-term gains. It would be beneficial for the advancement of our company.”
The directors all share the same expression of disapproval. Will quickly learned that they simply cared about what they got in return, and how fast they got it. Things like sustainability and long-term gains were tedious to them.
“We’re starting to doubt your abilities, Mr. Lecter,” Burnham said.
Hannibal simply smirked, masking his growing vexation within. He’d faced this a dozen times and he wished it wouldn’t mess with his head. “I have always done what was best for the company. I can assure you—”
“No, what you have done is chase after big, glorious dreams like they all do. It all sounds nice in your head, Mr. Lecter, but it’s time to get back to reality and focus on what we get in return rather than cater to some wild fantasy and watch the company fall.”
Another director, Gordon, chimed in. “Starting to wonder if it might be a good idea to join our rivals.”
Hannibal gripped the fountain pen tighter in his hand, trying to get his self-restraint back. As he was about to answer, he was cut off.
“Why didn’t you?” Will’s voice sounded.
All eyes fell on him.
Gordon turned to face Will. “Excuse me?”
“Why didn’t you join the competitors?” Will asked, rather nonchalantly. “If you think they’re so much better, you would’ve done it already. Why stick around? Unless you know that this company always did better than them, and so instead of admitting that, you would much rather put it down in a desperate attempt to sound wise.”
Gordon’s face hardened as he scowled at Will. “Who the hell—”
Will turned his focus to Burnham. “And Mr. Burnham, you’re so obsessed with getting immediate profits that you don’t care about the future of the company. You don’t care about having long-term growth that would benefit everyone and actually increase our returns, which means we would still be standing and thriving while our so-called rivals fade away. You getting your instant profits might lead to the company’s downfall and if that happens, it’s certain that you would put the blame on Mr. Lecter’s abilities yet again and demand your losses be compensated. That’s how you and this Janus-faced board of directors work.”
The room erupted into a chorus of angry voices all targeted at Will.
“Who the fuck are you to make judgments?” Burnham exclaimed. “You are nothing but a secretary.”
Hannibal, now thoroughly amused and impressed, sat there with a smug smile on his face, looking at Will with greater admiration. He could’ve intervened and defused the situation but it brought him immense joy just watching the directors explode. Unfortunately for him, he had to eventually step in otherwise it could cause problems.
“Calm down, please,” he said. “It’s no use pointing fingers. You are all here because you expect profits. You will get what you’re owed.”
“We better get it, Mr. Lecter,” Burnham spat, then gestured to Will. "And better get your dog under control."
Will gave an unfazed smile. "I'll take that as a compliment. Dogs are the best. I think I might be more of a... German Shepherd."
Burnham stared at his audacity. And just like that, as if he and Gordon owed Hannibal nothing more than those peremptory words, they all stood in unison and made their way out like ants. Or at least, that was what Hannibal thought of them.
He stopped them with his voice just as they reached the threshold. “Mr. Burnham, Mr. Gordon, may I speak with you for a moment?”
While the rest of the directors exited the room, Burnham and Gordon took a seat.
“I would like you both to join me for a discussion this evening,” Hannibal said. “You may express your expectations for the profits and we can come up with a plan that may benefit all three of us.”
Burnham and Gordon glanced at each other before looking at Hannibal.
“And why are we the only ones you’re telling this to?” Burnham asked.
“Because the two of you are senior directors,” Hannibal replied. “And because you had the most concerns than anyone else, which is why, I would like us to collaborate for the sake of the company. Evening, say… seven PM?”
The two men remained silent, exchanging glances again as if having a conversation through telepathy. Burnham took a deep breath, puffing out his chest before giving Hannibal a nod.
“Very well,” he said.
Hannibal gave a nod as well. “I have a conference room on the tenth floor that will be best suited for our meeting. It’s private and nobody will interrupt us.”
“Fine, whatever.”
The two men rose and walked out of the conference room.
Will gave a half-smile. "I am certain I wouldn't have the forbearance to endure that everyday for ten years."
"It was always different faces that I had to endure," Hannibal said. "Fortunately for me, they don't last long."
"How so?"
"They quit the company."
"Isn't that a bad thing?"
"A new director can be hired. It never dampened the growth of the company."
Hannibal stood and gave Will an acknowledging nod for his intervention earlier. "I do appreciate your support, Will."
"Isn't that what a secretary is supposed to do?" Will returned the smile.
Hannibal's pulse increased at that smile. It was a work of art on its own. He also took note of the way Will’s eyes glimmered when he smiled.
“Should I be joining you in that private meeting?” Will asked.
“It will be a confidential meeting between the three of us and I’ve already convinced them that we wouldn’t be interrupted, so you may go ahead and leave by six.”
“Alright.”
As Will turned to leave, Hannibal stopped him.
“Wait. On second thoughts, Mr. Graham, wait for me here. I won’t be long. We can leave together.”
Mr. Graham?
Surely it was nothing. Hannibal was his boss, essentially, so he could call Will whatever he wanted. But Will was—or used to be—a profiler, and he was dubious of every trivial thing until he was certain it was a false alarm. Hannibal’s switch from Will to Mr. Graham seemed to make him feel awkward for some reason.
That evening at seven, Hannibal was busy in the meeting and Will had no choice but to bide his time in Hannibal's office.
He sighed and sat down on the couch, going through his phone, browsing the web and reading TattleCrime. He gave a soft scoff when he saw the articles by Freddie Lounds, always putting her nose into dangerous businesses and getting too deep when she shouldn’t. She claimed the FBI had captured the Chesapeake Ripper.
“Abel Gideon?” Will muttered, his brows knitting together, peering closely at the grainy photograph of the supposed Ripper as if willing it to come to life. Every part of him suspected this Gideon fellow, and he wished he could go back to the FBI just so he could speak with him.
But that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
Turning the phone off, Will sighed and rose from the couch, going over to Hannibal’s desk to arrange the items on it. He rolled up the blueprints for the residential complex neatly and put them away in one of the bottom drawers of Hannibal’s fancy shelves. Hannibal’s desk was neat. There wasn’t much to rearrange or tidy up. Hell, there wasn’t much to tidy up in the entire office.
The marble floor was immaculate. Will glanced at the floor-to-ceiling windows, then the mahogany desk, the fine leather chair, the glossy coffee table with crystal glasses and a decanter, next to a posh leather sofa. His gaze lifted to the light fixture above, two rings one above the other, casting a warm, calming glow to the room. Hannibal took care of every detail of his office. Perhaps in his own life too.
And yet, some details remained a mystery to Will. Like a book he wanted to discover. Hannibal himself was indecipherable. What lay behind that suave, stoic facade? Those reticent amber eyes? For a moment, Will’s mind drifted to Hannibal’s smooth dark blond hair, his lips curving into a smile, and his beige suit, before snapping out of it.
After what seemed like an hour, Hannibal’s stealthy appearance almost caught Will off guard. He spun around, glancing at the man standing at the doorway of the office.
“I hope you weren’t too bored, Will.” Hannibal half-smiled. “I apologize for the delay. The meeting stretched longer than I anticipated.”
“Where are Burnham and Gordon?” Will asked.
“They left. Shall we leave too?”
“Yes.”
Will made sure everything was kept away before grabbing his coat and exiting the office. Hannibal closed the door and locked it, tucking the key in his suit pocket.
“Will you allow me to drive you home?”
“No thanks, I’ll catch a cab,” Will replied.
Hannibal tilted his head a bit. “Please, I insist.”
“Alright… sir.”
The ‘sir’ put a smile on Hannibal’s face as he led Will down to the lobby of the building and out to the parking lot. Will got into Hannibal’s black sedan, which, in comparison to his ostentatious penthouse office and evidently his ostentatious lifestyle, seemed… modest.
The drive was mostly silent, except for some questions about Will’s interests and his former job thrown here and there. Will didn’t speak too much about his former job and wanted to keep it that way, even though he could sense Hannibal’s curiosity. The silence in the car was surprisingly comfortable. It didn’t feel awkward to Will, perhaps because Hannibal did not push him on anything he didn’t want to talk about, or didn’t force him to talk when he didn't want to.
“You asked me why I was adamant on leaving the FBI,” Will said. “It’s because I wanted to get away from the noise.”
“I suspect the people and the chatter that constantly surround you does get overwhelming sometimes—”
“I meant the noise in my head.”
Hannibal glanced at him, his gaze warm with understanding. It wasn’t something Will saw with everyone, as if Hannibal’s vulnerability was solely for him. Aside from understanding, Will also thought he saw intrigue. Like Hannibal wanted to learn more about him on a profound level.
“Has it worked?” Hannibal asked. “Diverting away from a life of crime to a life of routine?”
Will shook his head. “No.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“Because at least I don’t have to look at bodies anymore.”
“I’m afraid I have to say, Will, that although you may have distanced yourself from the noise, or at least, are trying to, you may have to endure the noise of bumptious businessmen. That’s hardly going to provide you any peace of mind.”
A smile slowly cracked Will’s sullen countenance and he passed a side-eye glance toward Hannibal, who looked back at him with a bigger smile and raised eyebrows. There was a gradual shift, indicating that Will was warming up to Hannibal. The first signs of it showed in the way he relaxed his shoulders and leaned upright in his seat, sitting a bit more casually than before.
It was amazing how Hannibal interrupted Will’s train of thought so fast, grounding him in the here and now. It was exactly what Will wanted. A distraction. Anything that would help him in any way from the nightmares.
In that aspect, it wasn’t the job that was his escape. It was Hannibal.
Whether that was a good or bad thing remained to be seen.