Chapter Text
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss - Faustus (Act V, Scene 1)
I take another handful of popcorn and stuff it in my mouth, already grabbing another before I'm even finished chewing.
It's a very stormy Tuesday night, I got sent home early from my office internship a few hours ago from 'poor performance'.
Due to my leg injury, that bitch from HR wouldn't know sympathy if it struck her across the face.
I don't even care now, I'm warm and cosy in my apartment watching a new TV show called Hannibal. (Pirated on my laptop, of course.)
It was between this and browsing internet recommendations for a good anime I haven't watched.
The friend who got me this job reccomended I watch Hannibal, and I'm so glad I am. I'm only a few episodes in and I love it.
Suddenly, as if God themself, or the universe- whatever could cause such a thing to happen-
I begin choking on my popcorn and at the same time I hear rustling from behind me...
Before I attempt to look, too focused on trying to dislodge the murderous cluster from my throat, something sharp slams into my neck. It pierces my skull, instantly rendering me dead.
I gasp awake, looking around frantically. That wasn't a dream, I swear I died...
Where am I?
Is this the dream?
Law enforcement bustles around me in the small room as I stand somewhat alone in a corner, alone with a dead body.
"AAH! FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK!" I scream, scrambling like a startled cat to hurl my body away from it.
The rotting scent of human decomposition lingers in my nose, unmistakable now that I've smelt it... Whoever said you will never forget the smell, they were right.
"What the hell has gotten into you?" I hear an authoritative voice demanding as it approaches me rapidly.
I turn slowly, I swear I can place that voice-
"Jack Crawford?! From Hannibal?" I question, bewildered.
He scowls now, looking maddened from confusion.
"The fuck do you mean from Hannibal, like that psychiatrist is my mother or something?" He argues, looking increasingly concerned. "Are you well?"
I shake my head stiffly.
"I- I'm dead..." I say, walking over to the walls of the home at the crime scene and pressing into them.
The concrete is so detailed. The cold and bumpy surface glides under my fingers as I rub my hand along the wall.
Maybe I am just dreaming, what was that thing people used to say?
I find the nearest lamp and take a seat, staring deeply into it, poking the fabric surrounding the bulb, waiting for anything to happen.
"A coma?" I breathe. Or reincarnation?
Jack's hands abruptly grapple onto my shoulders, startling me.
He steers me towards his car, not so gently helping me into the passenger seat before driving us away from the confused crime scene investigators.
"Alright, I've seen enough. I'm taking you to have a chat with Hannibal, he must know what's going on." He says shortly, brooking no argument.
My eyes snap to him. Isn't that guy the cannibal? Don't they... Know? But I'm just dreaming, so who cares about danger. Maybe seeing that handsome devil up close wouldn't be so bad.
I smile as I look out the car's window at all the houses passing by. I really am excited to see if my dream can muster that man's handsome face.
If this is merely a dream I've never had such a realistic world form before. I can feel every bodily sense, my vision is 20/20. Perhaps coma's are different, maybe my brain is just coping somehow...
"How long till we're there?" I ask politely.
Jack looks at me like I have three heads.
"You've only been here, what, 10 times already? You don't know?" He says, brows furrowing.
I grit my teeth. Riiiight... They seem to think I'm... Not new here.
"Would it kill you to tell me anyway?" I complain with a sigh.
"We're here." He says gruffly, slamming the cars breaks on in the middle of the road, not wasting time pulling into the driveway.
"Through there is the reception." Jack says, nodding his head to the right.
I exit the car slowly, but Jack really must be worried, for the amount of anger he's displaying. The wheels of his car skid as they fight for traction, then he speeds away.
I'm left stranded infront of Hannibal's... Very expensive, and real looking practice.
The chilly breeze is refreshing, my lungs feel as though they're intaking real oxygen.
I shake the feelings from my mind, getting impatient to see this Hannibal guy.
I breeze through the reception area, I suppose they do know me after all. And stand before the door to his office, staring at it.
I only know it's this one because I recognise it from the show.
I get more impatient, beginning to imagine how I'd greet him.
Does it matter what I say or do? Can I fly?
Hannibal opens the door and one of his patients quickly hurries past me, leaving an awkward silence as the tall older man stares at me, like we know each other, but we do not.
I grit my teeth, deciding to explain the situation as I immediately crack under the pressure of his gaze. I'll test the social boundaries of this dream later.
"Jack Crawford sent me, said I'm not acting like myself." I say briskly.
He looks... Heart stopping... Far more dazzling than on my scratched laptop screen. And his office-
I peek over his shoulder on my tippy toes. Seriously? My mind recreated every detail, down to things I've never consciously noticed? The exact angles of the couches... The-
He cups my head in his hands, each palm resting against my jaw as he leans down, within my eyeline.
"You aren't looking at me the same, something is certainly wrong." He mutters, to me or himself I don't know.
He releases me and strolls into the office with me following behind, feeling mildly flustered.
I try to focus. He's smart, right? Can't I use this supposed genius to figure out what really happened?
I pause, considering my words before claiming a seat on the couch opposite him.
We stare at each other for a moment. He looks too real. It tears apart the silly notion this is all a dream. Out of everything that could've convinced me, seeing the sexy stubble on his jaw as he sits mere feet from me has confirmed the supernatural.
"Do you-" I ask, before he cuts me off.
"So-" He begins, at the same time.
"You begin." He says graciously, gesturing encouragingly with a sway of his hand.
I nod, licking my lips. I'm really gonna ask this.
"Do you know anime? Where the character is hit by a truck and wakes up in a fantasy world?"
"Not really... But I can... Grasp such a concept." He says, a mild look of disgust ghosts his features, maybe from being uneducated on something, or he might hate anime.
"I don't know who I replaced... But I was watching you on TV- you're just a TV show- then I died and now I'm here..." I lay it all out frantically, instantly regretting how I worded it.
He regards me with a long look of concern, his brows knitted together, he looks so handsome while doing it. I watch the way he's lounged back in the armchair, one leg crossed lazily over the other.
"What's it called?" He questions, drawing out the words on his tongue.
"Hannibal." I chuckle at the absurdity of telling him about his own show.
"My world is just like this one-" I catch myself saying. Why am I explaining what my world is?
Am I really trapped in a TV reality? No...
No matter how much proof I see, deep down I still feel as though I'll wake up eventually.
Hannibal leans further back in his chair, steepling his fingers.
"Does that make this my world?" He asks, voice low and deadly.
He's come around to the idea of me being my own unique person so fast, suspiciously fast. Anyone else would think the previous me developed multiple personality disorder.
I shake my head quickly, too scared to indulge him yet.
"No, um... It's Will's story." I correct him.
"Will? Who's Will?" He asks earnestly.
"You know, Will. The bizarre but genius crime scene investigator? He works with you!" I say, trying to jog his memory, my eyes bulging in confusion.
Is that where my mind chose to change the script if I'm dreaming?
"That would be you, Carmen." He utters my name in velvety smooth devotion, as if it has a positive connotation in his mind.
"Noo..." I deny, though it slowly clicks in my mind, a picture I don't want to imagine.
If Will is gone... And I really feel like I'm here right now...
I scoff, unsure whether to cry or scream.
"I'm really stuck here now?" I demand, laughing so I don't cry.
Hannibal looks taken aback for once, like a lion that realised rocket shooting mega robots are real.
I drag my gaze over to him, feeling suffocated, the weight of his reputation weighing in my lungs. I don't know much about him, except his name rhymes with cannibal. Fuck! I wish I knew more of his lore!
I know enough to know I'm fucked if I don't move to TV land's Hawaii and change my name ASAP.
"Well, that's me done for the day, Doc." I assure him very unconvincingly, already up out of my seat and heading to the door.
He stops me in my tracks, of course. He rises swiftly, adjusting his suit and tie as he lurks nearby, pleading his case rather threateningly.
"Not so fast... You take someone dear from me, fill my mind with science fiction concepts, then wish to retreat? Where would you go? Who do you even have here?" He says quietly, but with a terrifying edge.
My breath catches in my throat as I turn to face him, torn between staying longer to see his beautiful face, and the smart choice.
"I wouldn't say it's science fiction, per se..." I argue weakly.
His lip curls in a slight snarl, disinterested in my feeble attempts at worming my way out of this.
I study him for a moment, weighing how detrimental it'd be for me to just say 'I'm running away because you eat people'.
Is everyone just pretending not to notice? Though I suppose they may just think he has an unfortunate name.
I leave him like that, managing to quickly slip through his office door. I don't think he even made a move to capture my arm anyway, maybe he's more dignified than that.
I quickly find myself knocking again.
"Hannibal, where do I live?" I ask miserably.
Mister cannibal kindly dropped me at my apartment in this TV land without eating me, now I sit staring blankly at a window situated in my small dining area.
This is too surreal, do I seriously have to pay taxes here now?
Something vibrates in my pocket.
It's a phone I didn't know I had. Luckily the code is identical to my own phone.
How... Convenient. Did the universe change Will's passcode when swapping us?
Wait does that mean he died too? But he isn't real...
Before my head explodes I just check the damn messages, it's Jack, that FBI guy.
[ Jack: Hannibal cleared you for the crime scene again tomorrow, glad you're fine after all. ]
I laugh incredulously. He did? Is Hannibal messing with me? I don't know shit about crime scenes!
Crap I really don't!
I pull up this phones search engine, a TV approved version of Google. Which it turns out, is actually Google. I type my first question.
How.. To... Solve.. Murders....
I study tirelessly, watching FBI agents explaining their methods on long video conferences, searching question after question.
Can.. I.. Touch.. Evidence...
How... Many.. People.. To.. Suspect...
I burst into tears as the sun rises, dreading returning to the crime scene and ruining my stupid reputation, failing to catch whoever is responsible.
A calm but firm knock sounds out in my apartment before the door unlatches. I gasp, retreating to the kitchen, pulling a large knife out and creeping away to hide from whoever just broke in.
No! I left my phone on the table!
I watch in horror as the figure's shadow grows closer in the dimly lit apartment. They had a key, but who would visit at 5am?!
I press myself into a corner of the wall as they grow too near, trying to hold back my shaking whimpers. It's so much scarier because this is barely my fucking house, who knows who Will had made enemies with!
Suddenly the man jolts infront of me and I scream, my shaking hands causing the knife to clatter to the floor.
"I take it you feel on edge here?" Hannibal questions impassively, though he smiles as he looms over me.
I scowl up at him, my blood still coursing with terror.
"Even if it is just you, that isn't much better!" I reprimand him.
He quirks a brow, troubled by my insinuation. I quickly notice.
Don't expose him as a cannibal when he breaks into your apartment at 5am and is standing less than a foot from you!
"I mean... It is... Great to see you." I correct myself weakly. "Thanks for clearing me..."
"Unethical, though." I mutter.
"Ethics are subjective." He says with a polite smile.
"Are they reallyyy..." I say through gritted teeth, grimacing.
He nods curtly.
He's already wearing a full suit at 5am, one maybe even better than usual. The fabric is a dark inky black with grooves in the material, in the centre an artistic red tie cuts through the darkness.
I glance down at my own attire, having forgotten that I'd stripped down to just a thin wife beater that Will had laying around, and a pair of slightly loose boxers.
Hannibal takes a step back, eyeing my choice of clothes too.
"A man truly did reside here... Otherwise you have very poor taste" He observes.
I crouch down, picking up the knife once more.
"Say what about my taste?" I question, turning the blade over in my hands.
"Now, now..." He says, reaching to pry it from my grasp. "I came to offer my assistance, I assumed you are inexperienced..."
"Really? You thought of that?" I ask, pleasantly surprised before slowly doubting his intentions.
He looks pissed.
He raises his chin a fraction, looking down at me.
"I seem to have false memories of you..." He says coldly.
I grit my teeth "Yes... They must have been with Will."
He turns on his heel, rubbing a hand down his face before looking at me once more.
"My chest aches." He spits.
He prods my shoulder painfully, accusationally.
"Misplaced affections..." He sneers.
He reaches a hand towards my face and grips my cheeks, squeezing roughly.
I look up at him nervously, he's squeezing too hard for me to speak.
"I should punish you." He muses hatefully. "Though It's not your fault..."
He shoves me backwards against the kitchen cabinet, hard, and the room fades to black as the pain blooms in my skull.