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There's a new serial killer in Miami. They've only found one body so far but Dexter doesn’t doubt that he'll kill again, and soon. He's also sure this killer has killed before; this isn't the work of a beginner. The crime scene is gruesome but deliberate. It has a sort of grace, almost like a…
“Holy fuck, is this guy trying to make some sort of fucked up art piece?” Debra says from behind Dexter.
The scene is definitely “artistic” in a sense of the word. The corpse has been transformed to look like a bug of some kind, with what looked like beer bottles being used to make the wings. Broken twigs have been arranged on either side of the corpse, giving the impression of broken off legs; the actual arms are missing. It's as bizarre as it is morbid.
“It's definitely… unique,” Dexter says, at a lack of what else to say. Then he pauses, as Masuka turns the man's face so that they can all see it.
Dexter recognises the victim. He recognises him, because he's on Dexter's list for killing his own wife and in-laws.
In fact, he had been checking him out recently, which is what makes him realise now as he looks closer that the bottles used to make the wings are the exact same bottles that used to house all of this man's alcohol.
Someone beat me to it.
“What are we looking at, Dex?” Masuka asks, still crouched next to the body. Dexter mentally shakes himself. Focus on the crime scene. Look normal.
“Uh… he was slashed to death. There's clear knife wounds all over and they're deep. He wasn't killed here, there isn't enough blood – the cause of death was blood loss from all of the cuts and most of it is just missing. He was killed then moved here, likely under the cover of night, then arranged like this and left for us to find.”
Quinn is staring at the corpse stony faced but Batista next to him looks faintly sick. They have all seen intense things during their time in homicide but never something like this. Even Dexter hasn't seen anything like this before.
He desperately wants to get the evidence processed so that he can get started with figuring out who did this.
As it later turns out, there was no need to rush, because they don't have anything on the killer.
Forensics came up with nothing, and all of their detectives are stumped. Even Dexter's intuition turns up no leads.
The killer left no evidence, and they have no suspects.
No one saw anything either, which Deb complains about when she comes back from interviewing: “How can a guy arrange a corpse like that and have no one see him do it?”
They have no choice but to wait for another body to drop and hope the killer makes a mistake. That doesn't sound promising.
And as it turns out, it isn't. Another body drops, arranged as a different kind of bug, and they are no closer to solving the case than they were with the first one.
Dexter's on his way to the lab to analyse some evidence from this most recent body (which is a killer just like the first one) when he overhears Deb say “What do you think?” and he slows.
Quinn and Batista are surrounding Debra at her desk and they're all looking at her computer. The two men are blocking his view so Dexter doesn't know what they're looking at. He makes himself look busy in order to eavesdrop.
Batista is chuckling wryly, eyes glued to whatever is on the screen. “No offence to our old friend Lundy-” Dexter notices Deb's slight wince at her ex-boyfriend's name, “but I've heard this guy is like a serial killer whisperer. He could catch this guy in no time.”
Quinn turns his head towards Deb. He looks slightly offended. “You want to talk to him? Why? We can do this on our own.”
His reply is a scoff. “We’ve been trying for weeks,” Deb says, folding her arms. She turns to stare right at Quinn. “The killer leaves no trace. There’s no way we can crack this without picking the guy's brains and… well, this guy can do that, apparently.”
What Deb is saying makes sense, although Dexter doesn't know who they're talking about. Their team is stumped – usually this would gladden Dexter as it would mean someone new on his table but not even Dexter is having much luck.
The other two seem to have something else in mind. Batista looks at Quinn then back at Deb. Hesitantly he asks, “Are you sure this isn't about Lundy?”
Deb freezes, then scoffs again but this time it sounds forced. “What? Why would it be?”
Quinn shares another look with Batista. They're both clearly thinking of the same thing and trying to find a way to word it. He joins in with a mild tone, “He's probably seen Lundy. Knows how he's doing.”
Their tactfulness makes no difference. Deb shakes her head vehemently, “It's not about that, okay? I just want to see if maybe he can help us.”
Poor Deb. She's been seen through. Everyone likes to keep their ulterior motives to themselves.
Deb is flushed. Dexter can see it from here. Batista and Quinn definitely notice it. Instead of commenting they turn back to the screen. They don't believe her but are content to let it lie. Deb looks wrongfooted, but she also refocuses.
They all stare at the screen again. Dexter is burning to know just who they are all looking at.
After a while, Batista finally ventures, “He's here so it won't hurt to ask.”
Deb shakes her head disbelievingly, “I wonder what he's doing all the way in Miami.” She's seemingly recovered from her embarrassment or trying to appear so.
Quinn, however, is frowning. “I read that he lost his shit and almost got the death penalty before he was acquitted. He doesn't sound too stable,” he says slowly, like he's trying to slowly ease the other two into dropping the idea.
“He got aquitted,” Deb points out. “He didn't do it.”
Not necessarily. Is this mysterious FBI detective a possible next target? Or would the splash his death would cause be too big? I really don't want the FBI to come back. Possibly even with Lundy, again.
“Doesn't mean he isn't unstable.”
Dexter doesn't like Quinn, but on this they seem to be of the same mind. Both of them don't want this FBI guy to get involved in the case, although it's for different reasons. I've heard this guy is a serial killer whisperer. That didn't sound good.
When the instability route clearly fails, with Deb and Batista both dismissing him and turning back to the screen, Quinn adds, “I'm pretty sure he left the FBI after he failed to catch a killer.” He hesitates then continues, clearly still stung by the perceived insult to his detective abilities, “We should probably respect that decision and leave him alone. We can handle this.”
Deb turns to Batista. She's almost pleading with him with her eyes. She really wants to meet him for some reason. Please don't tell me Deb is going to bring home another FBI agent.
“I think he's worth a shot,” Batista states with finality, to an ecstatic grin from Deb and a vaguely dejected nod from Quinn.
He straightens, and says in a more authoritative tone: “Go talk to him, see if he's open to helping. I'll talk to LaGuerta about letting him take a look.”
Deb immediately gets up, excited, followed by a grimacing Quinn, and they start walking to the exit.
Dexter waits for the perfect moment then casually calls out, “Hey, where are you going?”
Deb laughs, then turns to him, gesturing at Quinn to keep walking without her and that she'll watch up. “Dex, you'll never believe it,” she says, walking quickly towards him with a grin. “One of the FBI's best moved into Miami recently. Quinn and I are going to go see if he'll give us a hand.”
Dexter tries not to wince. FBI's best moving into Miami? “Oh really? Who is it?”
“It's this guy called ‘Will Graham’.” Debra laughs, almost as if in disbelief, “Apparently he's got an almost perfect track record with catching killers and he was only called in for the most bizarre of cases. Cases like these. We're hoping he'll help.”
Dexter fights to keep his mask in place. Almost perfect track record? Uh oh. “Huh. Hope it goes well.” He gestures vaguely. “Hope he agrees.” Hope he doesn't.
Deb nods, excitedly, then quickly walks away to catch up to Quinn.
Dexter's face falls the second she goes. This does not sound good. He rushes to his office and looks “Will Graham” up.
It's worse than he could have possibly imagined.
Will Graham was never an official FBI agent, but apparently he has some kooky mind reading ability that lets him get into the heads of killers. Fantastic.
The last thing Dexter needs is a guy that can read minds anywhere near him. Lundy was bad enough. This Will Graham would probably smell him from a mile away and have him thrown in prison before he could get a word in edgewise.
“So what are you going to do if he does agree to come in?” Harry asks, materialising next to Dexter in his mind.
“Stay out of his way,” Dexter mentally replies with a mutter.
“That might not be possible, Dex. It's going to look suspicious if you avoid him; he'll definitely notice.”
Dexter tries to ignore how that's probably true. He doesn't reply to Harry, instead going online. He finds lots of stuff about Will Graham. A lot of stuff. Many of the links lead to reports of closed cases and caught killers but a more recent article catches his eye. It was posted less than a month ago.
As he reads, his panic melts away to be replaced with stunned silence.
Baltimore House Bloodshed
Last night, a tragedy occurred in a rich neighbourhood of Baltimore, Maryland. A man now identified as the Chesapeake Ripper, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, fled his home leaving behind one dead and three injured.
The situation is a result of a sting operation gone wrong; the night was supposed to end in the arrest of Dr. Lecter. Instead it almost resulted in three homicides.
A first responder to the scene said, “It was like walking into a nightmare. The first thing we see is a woman barely alive on the front steps, surrounded by glass – she'd been thrown out of a window and left to die. [...]
“Then there was the kitchen. I've never seen anything like it. There was blood pooling out of the pantry, and on the floor in front of it was a man trying futilely to save a girl's life whilst holding his own guts in. The girl was already dead by the time we tried to move her.”
All the emergency services called to the scene seemed shaken by what they saw. They were all vague when asked about what was inside. Something was clearly strange about the crime scene though.
One responder finally gave more details. They added: “It was the most bizarre thing: Will Graham was not in danger of bleeding out. He was the only one in that godforsaken house that wasn't about to die. It was either a miracle or deliberate.”
Will Graham's friendship with Dr. Hannibal Lecter has been proposed as the reason for his survival. The FBI refuses to comment.
Friendship with the man he was trying to arrest? Dexter's done that with future victims but not in the way the article implies. And his victims definitely wouldn't spare his life if he gave them a chance after his betrayal.
Dexter frowns and looks them up together. The first thing he sees is a tabloid called TattleCrime.
He is for a moment dumbfounded at what he reads. To say the writer hates Will's guts is probably an understatement. This ‘Freddie Lounds’ seems to be trying to make a living talking trash about Will.
One headline reads “The FBI's Pet Psycho deemed fit for service”. The next “Blurring Ethical and Professional Lines”.
Dexter specifies his search and finds one that was not long after the bloodshed at the Baltimore house.
He blinks at the attached photo. It's Will Graham, completely naked, with his genitals covered with a black box. The caption attached reads: “The result of getting too friendly with a killer.”
Serial Killer Love
The sting operation was a honeytrap gone wrong. The reason for it going wrong? Will Graham himself.
The FBI refuses to comment on a night that caused the loss of an innocent girl's life. A night that almost lost them the life of one of their best agents, and a psychological profiler. The reason why? The whole operation was an unauthorised honey trap.
Jack Crawford, the “Guru” himself, was using Will Graham's pretty face to lure Hannibal Lecter into making a mistake. Unethical, maybe, but so is the FBI keeping a psycho as a pet.
We can't expect any better from the people who employ a brutal and merciless killer to catch other killers – whilst all the while insisting their psycho is under control.
However, despite Will supposedly being their “well behaved” little bloodhound, his honeytrap may not have been a trap at all, just a whole pot of honey with the way he was fraternising with the enemy.
Will seems to be forgetting who holds his leash. Or maybe he and Hannibal get up to some interesting activities in the bedroom and that's what's confusing him.
Yikes. She goes on to say how it's Will's own fault for getting stabbed and needing a temporary colostomy (which is what is pictured in the image at the top) because “who intentionally romances a serial killing cannibal?”
Her statements are insane, even more so than is usual for independent tabloids, but they aren't what catch Dexter's attention.
As he clicks through, he sees that Freddie Lounds has made many allegations of Will being a serial killer, and of killing alongside Hannibal Lecter. She points at one of the only crimes Will hasn't solved and accuses him of committing the crime himself.
The photo of the crime scene depicts a man, revealed to be a serial killer, mounted on a prehistoric skeleton.
A killer victim. An almost artsy display. An animal theme.
He is suddenly a lot more interested in Will Graham. Maybe he'll go visit the house himself.
—
Now that Dexter has a lead, he throws himself into it.
He quickly finds Will's new address in Miami and he notes it down. He also notes that Will is antisocial and therefore isn't likely to have many friends, and the ones he did have he purposefully moved away from and maybe even broke contact with. Truly, the perfect victim.
He learns as much as he can online, reads all the tabloids available no matter how ludicrous, and prepares a plan.
He can't befriend Will – Dexter will be seen through in moments. He'll also have to be careful about when he scouts out Will's house; apparently he owned multiple dogs in Wolftrap. If they've come with him, which is likely, he'll have to learn when he walks them, and if he kennels them – if he doesn't, Dexter's task is going to get a lot more complicated.
He decides that if the dogs are there, he'll have to scout out the house when Will is walking them. Once vetted, Dexter will have to find someplace to kidnap him where the dogs won't interfere.
He'll have to scout out the house for information, but he can get his first dose of it right now. Deb and Quinn have just returned from their visit.
Dexter gets up immediately, and goes to intercept his sister.
She looks frustrated, which is good for him but makes him feel slightly bad for her. He hates being in competition with her, but that's just how it is when she's trying to catch killers and he's trying to kill them.
“Any luck with Will Graham?” he asks, praying the answer will be no.
Luck seems to be shining on him today because Deb swears and huffs in a distinctly annoyed manner. “No. He was a massive ass about it actually. Told us to fuck off and that he doesn't work for the FBI anymore.”
“Harsh,” he says, secretly breathing a sigh of relief that he will not be face to face with Will Graham until Will's time of death.
Deb grunts. “Tell me about it. Well, we're going to crack the case with or without him but who knows how many people will die in between now and then?”
Or I'll get to him before you do and the case will go unsolved and begrudgingly closed. Sorry, Deb. Dexter nods, thoughtfully. “Did you tell him that?”
Deb nods and huffs again, “Yeah. He didn't care. It seemed to make him more angry actually.”
Maybe because he's being asked to profile a crime scene that he made? Again?
Deb puts her hands on her hips and taps her foot. She looks annoyed and miserable, and for that Dexter pities her. He wishes he could be more supportive of his sister but he is who he is.
Suddenly, Deb brightens. “You have your own brand of intuition,” she points out. “Do you have any idea who might've done this?”
She looks so hopeful. Dexter feels a twinge in his heart as he moulds his face into a grimace. Yes. “No. Sorry.” Deb looks crushed. He was her last hope.
She unfolds her arms, and turns to go, dejectedly. “At least his dogs were cute,” Deb mutters, and Dexter sees his chance.
“He had dogs?”
Deb turns back to him. A small smile has come onto her face. “Yeah, there were a bunch of them – I've never seen someone with so-fucking-many dogs in my life.”
Will still has his pet dogs. According to Freddie Lounds, he owns a whole pack to seem innocent and gentle in order to hide his homicidal nature.
Dexter frowns, pretending to be perplexed. “Didn't he just move in?”
Deb laughs, and knocks Dexter's shoulder. “They're his dogs from his old life, of course they came with him. I know we never had a pet, Dex, but come on.”
We did have a pet, but Banjo didn't stay with us long because Harry was scared I'd kill it like I did the neighbour's dog.
Dexter smiles. “You're right, Deb. Pets come with you anywhere you go.”
Hopefully Will's dogs follow him everywhere he goes, so I can break into his house when he's out without having to worry about them.
He extricates himself from Deb and, since his shift is over, gets into his car and drives home. But not to his home. To Will's.
Finding where Will lives is easy. Remembering his routine is almost just as simple.
For the next week, Dexter watches Will from afar, checking to see how regular Will's routine is. As it turns out, Will is almost like clockwork.
He doesn't have a job, at least, not yet, so he doesn't get up to much during the day, other than to walk his seven dogs. He walks them at around the same hours every morning and every evening, before turning them in for the night.
Will himself however, without fail, goes out to a bar every night. He stays there until it's dark, and either stumbles into a taxi to get home, or stumbles into a taxi with someone else to their home.
If he's going home with someone else, he stays overnight, presumably falling asleep after intercourse and crashing at the person's place.
Unfortunately, all of these perfect opportunities to break into Will's house are not opportunities at all, due to the presence of the pack of dogs. They aren't kenneled – they live in the house, free roam when Will is gone.
There's also a sign on Will's gate that reads “Beware of Dangerous Dog”. Dexter isn't sure if it's only there to scare people off, or if the dogs do attack, but just to be safe he'll stay clear of the house when they are home.
The good news is that Will never goes home with the same person twice. He isn't looking to find any friends. That's good. It means no one will come looking.
All in all, it's going well and Dexter feels ready, but then one night, just as he's getting used to the pattern, Will takes someone home and the next day Dexter gets called in for a crime scene.
It's the same person Will went home with, arranged like a bug.
When Dexter investigates them, he finds out that they're a killer. Just like all of the other victims.
One guy could be a coincidence, two are stretching it, but three?
Will Graham is officially a vigilante. Just like him.
“Not just like you, Dexter,” Harry says from behind him, his voice brooking no disagreement. Dexter doesn't react, conscious of the people around him, and not wanting to reply either way. He knows what Harry is going to say next. Harry says it and Dexter closes his eyes in mild frustration. “You can't let him keep killing. He doesn't share your code.”
No, he doesn't, however he definitely has a code. You just don't kill this many killers by accident. That means he isn't like Dexter's other victims. But how does he choose them? Dexter has access to police resources to profile his victims, but Will? He can't be using FBI resources, so that leaves his magical empathy. That is, if he's the killer. Is his gift really that powerful? It scares and fills Dexter with curiosity in equal measure.
He was almost tempted to have Will have a look in his head – a dangerous thing to want but he can't help but feel drawn to this “serial killer whisperer”. From the articles he's read, apparently he isn't the only killer who feels this way about Will Graham.
Fortunately, Harry drilled some sense into Dexter, so he doesn't go looking for trouble. The killers before him who tried to get closer to Will all ended up shot and arrested, and Dexter does not want to end up the same way.
Dexter firms. He needs Will out of Miami before something goes wrong. He is almost completely sure that Will is the maker of all the tableaus, all he needs is tangible proof for the Code. He'll get it tonight, whilst Will is walking the dogs. Then he'll find a time and place to abduct Will and take him to a kill room.
The rest of the day drags as Dexter has to examine the crime scene of a killer he believes he has pinned down, but it gives him time to think. Is he seriously considering killing an FBI agent?
As gruesome as the tableaus are, killing Will will only bring more trouble on his head. It could even bring the FBI back to Miami – the last thing Dexter wants.
Not to mention, Will's victims are killers. As much as Dexter doesn't truly care about his victims’ crimes, merely using them to kill by the Code, meeting a fellow vigilante fills him with a want to share and understand. How does Will do it, why does he display them, how is he choosing them? What does he think of Dexter's case, and his killings?
He wants, desperately, to speak with Will Graham – he knows that's an awful idea, not just because of the risk; his own past experiences speak for what happens when Dexter becomes friendly with another killer: Lila ended up being crazy and Miguel to have just been using him.
Friendship is not on the tables, and yet…
Dexter puts a stop to that line of thinking, but that still leaves the issue of the FBI. Dexter barely survived the stress the first time. Maybe he could just warn Will off Miami. Then he would cease to be Dexter's problem and Dexter would have nothing to fear.
The only other viable alternative is to just kill him and weather the FBI storm for a second time. He's too smart for the P.D and Dexter can't risk himself by supplying hints.
He sighs and leans back in his chair, staring at the useless results he had gotten from his forensics scan – nothing, like always. The choice could be made later. First, Will has to be vetted. He'll do that tonight.
—
Dexter waits until Will is out of sight with his pack, and then a few minutes more just to be safe, before he approaches the house. He picks the lock and makes his way inside.
Will Graham's house is covered in fishing gear. There's books on fishing on the shelf, a fly-making station on his desk, and a bunch of fishing rods around the room. Normal enough. Dexter has some gear of his own.
There's more gear than the average person owns, but clearly Will is a fisherman. It's nothing incriminating.
The other thing that Will Graham's house is covered in though, is insects. Not live ones, but pictures and books. Looking closer at the books there's even a book written by Will himself about insects: The Standard Monograph on Determining Time of Death by Insect Activity.
And all over Miami he's been leaving corpses arranged to look like bugs.
Dexter shakes himself. According to the Code, he needs irrefutable proof. The books don't prove anything – they could merely suggest Will is an entomologist. Maybe everything has been just a coincidence, because so far, there hasn't been anything to mark Will as his killer. There's no murder weapon, no trophies, nothing.
And honestly, Dexter still hasn't decided what he'll do if he finds proof. Every minute of deliberation makes him feel sicker at the idea of the FBI coming back, and making contact with Will is too risky. What if he tells someone Dexter's secret?
He's seriously considering just leaving Will alone and hoping they never cross paths… Until he gets to the freezer.
He opens it on a whim. Or perhaps he opens it because of that nagging feeling that was caused by a certain thing he read in one of Freddie Lounds' articles. Whatever the case, what he sees makes him freeze.
It's parts of a human. Cut into pieces. Fresh. Will has already killed someone new. And the way the body is cut… Dexter frowns. There's body parts but there's also what looks like vac-sealed cuts of meat.
That would be weird on its own except Dexter remembers the tabloids. The ones that had made him check.
Together they are the serial killer the FBI seeks.
Hannibal the Cannibal.
An attempt to cozy up to Hannibal in order to trap him.
Perhaps Will wanted Hannibal to get away.
He's still reeling from disgust at being in the house of a cannibal when he hears someone in the house. By then, it's too late.
“Who are you?”
Will Graham has returned, and he's staring right at him.
Dexter stares right back. He doesn't know what to say. He's never been caught before. He's never been knocked so off balance by a killer before. He's never tried to kill a cannibal before.
They're both silent for a moment. Dexter's fingers twitch with the knowledge that he's unarmed. He could probably win in hand to hand combat with Will but that might leave tracks. Will was supposed to be walking his dogs for at least another hour.
The dogs themselves are nowhere to be seen, which is a relief. He's wary over where they are, and why Will didn't bring them in with him for protection, but he's not about to complain. Still, the lack of dogs doesn't improve the general situation that is being caught breaking into his possible to-be-victims house.
Will sees the freezer opened behind Dexter and he goes dreadfully still.
Dexter knows. Will knows he knows. What is Will going to do now?
Everything's quiet for another moment. Then Will says, “I wasn't going to eat him.”
Dexter stares at him.
Will twitches a little, and shifts on his feet. “I mean it. I just… I profile serial killers. The last serial killer I hunted was a cannibal. He's still in my head. He twined his way into my psyche and no matter how I twist him he won't come out.”
Dexter almost feels a foreign stab of sympathy – something about Will's big, blue eyes makes him look like a kicked puppy, and his nervous demeanour permeates the room and makes even Dexter feel antsy. Then he realises something about Will's phrasing, and he forces himself to focus.
“But his influence isn't making you kill,” he points out. He continues to stay on high alert. Will is a killer, but that's all Dexter really knows. He doesn't know how he behaves in these situations – how he'll react. He's likely stronger than Will, but it's possible Will may have gotten FBI training of some sort. It's also possible he has a gun.
Something dark flashes in Will Graham's eyes and Dexter senses the danger he's been keeping an eye out for, but what Will says next makes him burn with a dreadful curiosity that he needs sated no matter what.
He can't kill this man. Not until he learns.
Will looks him straight in the eyes and says, in a crushed and simultaneously angry voice: “I could always control my urges. It's him that made me act on them.”
He has a dark passenger too. But he can control it. How can he control it?
“You could control them?” Dexter asks, trying to keep his tone under control, feeling like his world has been tilted on an axis.
He's always felt like a slave to his urges. Until rehab, killing was like an addiction he couldn't kick – even now he couldn't see himself ever stopping. Will however, seems to have had his dark passenger on a leash for around thirty years.
Will's words start off angry before trailing into tears. “My urges were a nuisance – a rogue brush stroke in the painting of my person. But now he's in my head. He lingers. He whispers and cajoles.” Will laughs, wetly. “He makes me betray myself.”
Dexter feels like he's been stabbed.
“I'm not actually going to eat them,” Will insists, the words rushing out of him desperately, “I'm just.. copying him. I'm copying everything he does. I don't really know what else to do. It feels like he has tainted and corrupted every part of me.” Will's voice breaks at the end and he sniffs, trying to hold back tears. “I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't for him.”
Dexter feels something he's never felt for a killer before. Pity. Sympathy. Understanding.
He lets himself consider something he never considered before. What if I wasn't inevitable? What if this is Harry's fault?
When Dexter was a kid, Harry caught him killing the neighbour's dog. But what if what happened next wasn't inevitable? What if Harry hadn't told Dexter to pretend; what if he didn't insist that Dexter was a monster in need of hiding?
Could Dexter have been normal? Could he have lived without needing the Code?
Will suddenly whistles, which shakes Dexter out of his brooding, then sits down on his, clearly second hand, couch. Dexter jumps as a group of dogs rush in through the door. They all look at him curiously but don't try to attack. He stands stock still as they all rush to their owner who is slumped on his seat.
He watches them for a moment. Will looks tired, but he has enough energy to pet all his dogs and play with them a little. He looks nothing like the freak Freddie Lounds says that he is. He looks nothing like a man who murders people and mutilates them to look like bugs. All Will looks like is a man that is so very tired.
Wordlessly, Dexter comes to sit beside Will. He needs to know how Will used to control his dark passenger; he needs to understand how it broke free.
Will gives him a haunted look when he asks, but finally starts talking. What comes out of his mouth next is like a horror story.
–
Will Graham is extremely easy to pity.
He's twitchy, teary, and tortured. He looks almost ten years younger than what he truly is when his eyes go big and wet, which they are right now.
His mind is a mess, his psyche battered, he was used as a hunting dog by the FBI who couldn't care less about his well being, and his best friend turned out to be a monster that was ruining his life and almost got him the death penalty.
He didn't kill any of the people that he was on trial for killing, but he was so sick that he had truly believed that he had killed and cannibalised the girl he saw as a daughter. Because of course Will also had a brain disease that was killing him from the inside out as all of this was happening.
He had spent his whole life trying to be good, only for a man he trusted to take advantage of his vulnerability and release his dark passenger, making his urge to kill impossible to stop. Much like Dexter's own.
“I can't believe you used to be able to control your urges,” Dexter says. There's a note of wonder in his voice that he can't tamp down. Everything Harry had ever wanted. If only he had known Will and learnt from his techniques.
Will looks at him with curiosity, “Is that impossible for you? Or did your father convince you that it was?”
Dexter starts. How did he know that?
Will smiles sadly at Dexter's jerky reaction, and interrupts him before he can ask. “It's my little party trick.” He doesn't explain further. Something tells Dexter that Will doesn't use this ability at parties. Something else makes Dexter want to explain. Will had lowered his guard, and been vulnerable. Now it was his turn.
“My dad knew something was wrong with me since I was very young. He taught me how to channel my urges – he said control was impossible.”
Will scoffs under his breath, and Dexter feels the inexplicable need to defend Harry.
“I killed animals when I was younger,” Dexter confesses. Telling him it was a dog probably isn't a good idea. Will's mouth twitches into something that is almost a smile. He strokes a dog that has situated itself between his legs. The dog pants happily at the attention. Yeah, probably for the best.
Will doesn't say anything, so Dexter continues. “He saw me kill an animal. He said I was out of control. That's why he taught me what he did.”
What he taught him being serial murder. It sounds silly now that he's been faced with Will and his iron-clad control – or rather, the remnants of it.
Will hums, then turns to him with an eerily focused gaze. Dexter realises just how blue Will's eyes are as he simultaneously realises that this is the first time Will has made eye contact.
“Was your dad a cop? A cop that was fed up with the state of the justice system? A man who wanted those who got away to get punished?”
Dexter jerks again, as if he's been burned.
“Your father crafted you into a killer so that you could carry out what he was too cowardly to do. That was his design.” Will's gaze softens, and he breaks eye contact again. “You were crafted into this, just as I was.”
Dexter stares at him in silence. He starts to feel an odd kinship, a mutual understanding. It's something he's never truly felt before, not like this – he wants more of it.
Tentatively, he asks Will about his kills. Will cocks his head to one side, reminiscent of one of his dogs, and Dexter rushes to clarify. “I mean, how are you choosing them? They're all criminals. How do you know who to kill?”
Will's face twitches then relaxes. He strokes one of his dogs and replies, simply, “I pick them up at a bar and then kill them in their own home. I pretend to be drunk so they don't see me as a threat.”
Realisation hits him. “You use your looks.” Will grins at him in a way that conveys slight embarrassment.
“Amongst other things,” Will says, vaguely. “As for how I choose them: I can see it in them. I recognise their darkness.” Dexter feels an odd rush of eagerness and he shifts in his seat. Will continues, “I see them, then I kill them. I've never been wrong about a killer.”
“Can you see me?” The wish sounds silly, and childish, but now that he's here, with Will, talking about his abilities, he can't help but yearn for that connection – that understanding. It's not about Dexter's dark passenger, not really; it's about him.
Will gives him an amused look. “Are you asking me to psychoanalyse you?”
Dexter tries to hide how eager he feels at the sound of that, however he seemingly fails by the glance Will sends his way before sighing.
Despite his seeming reluctance however, Will looks up at him and looks. There's intent behind it, intense in a way that is unlike anything Dexter has ever felt. His eyes meet a deep blue once again – it feels like someone staring straight into his soul.
It feels like finally being understood.
—
The rush that results from Will's psychoanalysis makes Dexter feel as if he were glowing.
It feels like meeting a kindred soul or, at least, a soul capable of reflecting his own. Dexter understands the pull other serial killers feel towards Will and can't help feeling smug that he has received what they all clamour for: Will's understanding.
It makes him more open. It makes him ask questions he wouldn't dare otherwise.
Almost abruptly, but absolutely instigated, he asks, “Do you want to get revenge on the guy who made you this way?”
Will turns to him again. He looks more tired, as if looking into Dexter's mind had exhausted him. “Do you?”
Of course he does, in fact, he already has. One of them, at least. He partially regrets asking Miguel to help him kill Clemson Galt instead of Hector Estrada. He should've taken the chance to get murder the man who ordered the murder of his mother.
“I've already done part of the job,” Dexter replies, and Will's lip twitches into something that resembles a smile – it's sad. Almost as if he was wishing it was that easy for him, too.
Suddenly, Dexter feels a chill. Almost like a child, Dexter feels as if he needs reassurance that Will will defeat his own monster. “Will you kill him?” he urges.
Will sighs and makes an aborted movement towards his abdomen – where he had a massive bandage in Freddie Lounds’ photo. A wound given to him by Hannibal Lecter.
“Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. He's escaped to Europe.” An almost wistful quality creeps into his expression and tone. It causes Dexter to become unnerved by Will for the first time; for a moment, he can't help but think back to the TattleCrime articles and the allegations of a romance. His feeling of uneasy grows – as if he had just come to the realisation that he was sharing space with a predator that could snap at him at any minute.
“Besides,” Will continues, “He's dangerous. There's a reason he's never been caught before. I've never met anybody like him.” Dexter thinks Will is aiming for disgusted and hateful but a degree of admiration and softness bleeds into his voice.
Will seems to notice just as Dexter does, and he shakes himself, however it's too late. Dexter can't unhear the soft emotion, the lingering care, finally becoming completely torn out of his stunned reverie in order for his mind to reach an understanding.
Even if Will were to face Hannibal Lecter again, their reunion may not end in death. Freddie Lounds may be right about them after all.
Will looks over at Dexter and stiffens at what he sees. His face immediately saddens and for the first time, it feels like a facade. Had it been one this whole time? “You want me to leave Miami, don't you.” It isn't a question. It almost feels like a prompt.
That's not what Dexter had been thinking, but now that Will had mentioned it… Despite his underlying unease that Will might be manipulating him, he is firm. “I don't want to kill you, but this is my city.”
Will nods, and pets his dogs one last time before getting up. He goes over to his desk and starts stacking some of his belongings, as if to give the indication of already packing.
“I was going to leave soon anyway. You're right, I need to go looking for Hannibal.” He strokes his abdomen again. “We have unfinished business.”
Dexter also nods, although he feels suddenly reluctant to leave. His new understanding, if vague and incomplete, makes him feel uneasy. His dark passenger surges, but Dexter forces it down. Will will be leaving soon. It'll be less messy to let him leave – however much Dexter is starting to feel like Will does deserve his table after all.
He shakes himself and stands up. He needs to go home to Rita – it's getting late. It's too early in their marriage and shared cohabitation for him to be unaccounted for like this. She might get suspicious that something is wrong.
At the door, as he's leaving, he calls out one last time, “Will.” Will looks up. “Thank you.”
Dexter doesn't think the warmth of being understood will leave him for a long time. Still, it's better to move on before the fire starts to burn.
An unreadable expression crosses Will's face but Dexter doesn't stay to decipher it. He leaves without looking back.