Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

Lumen Obscura	By : PinkSiamese Category: -Misc TV Shows > Crossovers Views: 1077 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Hannibal or Dexter in any of their incarnations (TV shows, movies, books). I am making no money off this story.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
The wind shears in off the sea. It deconstructs the arrangement of Hannibal’s hair. “You hope the land will speak to you, then?”
Will shakes his head. “No.” His eyes traces the shapes of the dunes. “It’s not that.”
“The park will close soon.”
“I know. I spoke to the rangers.” Will stands, brushes sand off his knees. “They’ll let me stay as long as I like.” He glances at Hannibal’s face. “You as well.”
Hannibal stands, his flank turned to the wind. “It is a remote area, once the sun has gone down.” His suit is a tan color, it’s cut a little loose, the fabric is tropic weight. It ripples on him like water in the wind; the fabric has a mild sheen imparted to it by the fading sun. “It is your thought that the killer floated them into the sand?”
Undyed tussore, Will thinks, it’s the wild silk gathered off mountain pepper; the diet of the silkworms has something to do with the color. Briefly he wonders what part of his mind houses that knowledge, where he was when he acquired such a useless bit of information.
Will nods. “Yes. Not just because it’s easier, either.” He walks up toward the tide line. “There’s something in the swimming that’s part of his…ritual. He needs to be in the water with them. He needs to carry them to shore.”
“Odysseus, who has cut himself free?”
“Maybe.” Will shrugs.
Hannibal takes a step closer. “And yourself? How are you feeling?”
Will moves away from the water, turns. He shrugs a shoulder. “Okay. I think.”
“You think?”
“I…I see things. Sometimes.”
“What things?”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
Will looks at him. “Me.”
“I am not following you.”
“Part of my…whatever it is, empathy disorder, is that I have an exceptionally active imagination.”
“I am aware of that.”
“No, I don’t think so.” Will shakes his head, takes a seat on the sand. He faces the sea. “Sometimes…” He sighs. “I go so deep that when I speak, I’m shocked to hear my own voice. Sometimes I’m so sure that something is there, some…I don’t know, thing—an image, a face, it could be anything—that I actually, physically see it in the real world.”
“And what are you seeing now?”
“Stags.”
“It’s the antlers.”
“Yes, but they are attached to stags, Doctor.” He glances up. “To still-living animals.”
“That is unusual.”
“I thought so.”
“Where was the last place you saw this animal?”
“Here. Earlier today, I was…” Will sighs, looks down. He rubs his forehead.
“Yes?”
“I was here.” Will swallows. “I was doing what I’m doing now.” He scans the horizon. “I was looking at it from the water. The way he would’ve seen it.”
“Is there more?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I was just…looking, and it stepped out of the dunes, walked down over the sand. It went to the water. It looked at me. Like it was taking my measure. Once I had blinked, it was gone.”
“Interesting.” Hannibal puts himself between Will and the ocean. “Does this animal only visit you at crime scenes?”
“Well…yeah. For the most part. I have seen it in dreams too.”
“And you say this has always happened to you.”
“Yes, though not with this…strength? Clarity? Duration? Usually they are more like flashes, or like a Polaroid that fades into overexposure,” says Will. “The overexposure in this metaphor would be so-called real life.”
Hannibal is a distance away, one foot propped forward on the rising slope. The light reflects off the water, makes his eyes hollow. It makes his cheekbones look bigger, makes his chin look bigger.
This is a man who burns his way into your perception, like a cigarette pressed into a silk screen. Occasionally, it feels welcome. It commands your regard. Much of the time, I don’t like it.
Will looks up the beach. “I don’t think I’m sleeping as well as I could be.”
“Poor sleep may be a contributor, yes.”
“This thing I’m talking about, it’s more like…I don’t know, some form of narcolepsy, like, where literally I am asleep for a handful of seconds. I go straight from wakefulness to dream sleep, and then boom! Straight back out again, and with no loss of cognitive function.”
“Perhaps. That would be unusual, but it’s not entirely unheard of.”
“When I was young, it would happen sometimes when I got sick. I’d have the flu, be in bed for a day, maybe two. And it would be…solutions, I guess, to things I had been working on. Math problems, or something mechanical. Not fever dreams, though. I’ve had plenty of those.” He shakes his head. “This is a different beast.”
Hannibal smiles. “It is not a wonder to me that Dr. Bloom finds you so fascinating. A helpful form of narcolepsy that is induced by the immune response. There is a paper in there somewhere.”
Will’s mouth quirks. He takes off his glasses. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. Uh huh.”
“Come, Will.” Hannibal squats, attempts to look him in the eye. “You cannot fault one brilliant mind’s desire to dance with another. She is a woman who is well able to put academic pursuits ahead of romantic ones, and while I have no wish to denigrate the so-called fairer sex, that is a trait women in our society have been encouraged to bury. If she had indulged society’s inclinations and at an earlier time in her life had traded in the pursuits of the mind for those of marriage and family, our world, our field, would have been so much the poorer for it.”
“I wanted a date, Doctor.” He puts his glasses back on. “Not a marriage.”
Hannibal stands. “If I recall correctly, what you wanted was to follow a kiss to its natural conclusion.”
“Yeah.” Will pulls apart a piece of dried seaweed with his fingers. “Outside of a fairy tale, Doctor, a kiss does not equal a happily ever after.”
“I understand that you feel insulted. But in reality, there is no insult to be had.”
“Just remember this.”
“A kiss is still a kiss?”
Will’s mouth quirks. He flings the pieces of seaweed aside. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Very well.” He removes himself from Will’s line of sight. “I shall drop the subject.”
“I feel like I’m getting enough sleep. I think I am.” Will folds his legs. He stares at the water. “But I guess that doesn’t mean anything, does it?”
“Not always.”
He glances up. “Have you had time to go over the files?”
“Some. The plane ride here is short. I will catch up on the rest once I get back to my hotel room.”
“I keep feeling as though it’s too obvious.” Will purses his mouth, exhales through his nose. He moves his hands as though he is building something. “The way this looks. That yes, he has a fishing vessel at his disposal and that yes, he has extensive knowledge of the sea, but that whatever conclusions one might naturally draw based upon those facts are just…masks.”
“Go on.”
“It makes you think retired Navy, or someone who fishes for a living, or some other species of retired sea captain, and all of those things fit. I have to admit it.” Will sighs. “But it doesn’t feel right. There’s something off.”
“Will he kill again?”
“Absolutely, without a doubt. The Texas murder was a-a…a dry run, a rehearsal dinner. I mean…look at it, he didn’t even stitch them properly. The holes are uneven. The weight of the line is all wrong. He’s spent the last three months holed up somewhere, or isolated out there on the water, just…perfecting his skill. Not the killing skill, either: I am telling you, there are fish corpses full of stitching floating around in the Gulf, or slowly digesting in shark’s bellies…and there are pieces of other girls out there too, doing the same thing, for all we know. The ocean is a fantastic place to dispose of a body.”
Hannibal watches him.
“He’s been doing all his homework, his theory and his practicals.” Will shakes his head. “This is only his first installation.”
“It would not be good for you to stay out here all night as well as half the day. Have you eaten?”
“I ate awhile ago.” He waves a hand. “I’m okay.”
“You’re sure.”
“Yes.”
“Then I must take my leave,” says Hannibal. “I have a lot of catching up to do.” He looks around. “Do not stay here too long. It will aggravate your sunburn.”
Will holds up a hand. “I’m all right. My skin is fine.”
“Good evening, Will. I will see you in the morning.”
“Bright and early.”
He watches the horizon, listens to Hannibal’s feet carve wells into the sand, receding, until the sound of his retreat is lost under the monotonous howl of the wind. In the distance, where sea disappears into sky, a delicate shade of purple rises up. It trembles in the long curved grip of the miles.
The light filtering through the clouds is pink. It suspends everything in a coral haze. It slants across the sand, tinged with gold, and fills all the holes with darkness.
Even if you just happen to see me pulled over on the side of the road?
He watches her hand on the knife, the angle it makes against her fingers. The sunlight flashes into his eyes, strong already, made sharper still by the high-gloss metal; he watches her, the curl of her hand, her skin against the mother-of-pearl, the water droplets, the long curve of her wrist and the way the hairs on her pale skin take the sunlight and make it into gold.
…even if on the shoulder all four tires blown black smoke nothing if you are crashed and dented I will not
Blood floods his face. He’s hot, dizzy. The long shadow sways into being, slides down the sand behind her.
Even if I see you on the shoulder, all four tires blown out, black smoke billowing out from beneath your crashed and dented and popped hood, I will not pull over.
The stag comes. It steps down from the dunes. It is huge, muscled, magnificent in the way brute force unfolds across a body, in the way that growth forces a rending from the soil. It wears an air of finality, a robe of feathers; it is a creature from those woods, come south crowned with glittering frost and dragging dead leaves at its feet. It walks, it does so slowly, in long measured steps. It passes behind her. He does not watch its progress toward the water.
He looks at Lumen’s face, sees the shadow of an antler pass over one cheekbone. It hides in her hair. Her face softens just enough to let a grin rise to the surface. It melts away, dissipates into her eyes. Promise?
The stag snorts. Will smells moss, cobwebs, a veil of rain dragged across a sleepy hollow.
Yes yesyesyes
Yes, he says
YES OKAY OKAY
When Will gets up, the worlds tilts a little before righting itself. He holds out his hands.
He’s hungry.
* * *
“Where are you now?”
Crickets shrill in the grass. “I’m outside.”
“This place where you are staying,” he says. “Is by the water?”
“Yeah.” Lumen walks past the pool, past the coconut palms. “I’ve got a view of the bay.”
“I can see it too.”
“It would be a shame to come to Miami and not stay near the water. There’s so much of it.”
“Yes, it would.” He pauses. “So. You did it.”
Lumen looks up. Bright windows float against the dusk. “Yes.”
“So, you have returned to Miami. I’m pleased for you.”
“Thank you.” She sighs. “It’s like a huge weight just rolled away with the miles.” She walks to the edge of the land, sits. She takes off her shoes. Her feet dangle. “It took the effort of driving to do it, but I’m…I guess I feel free now.”
“You guess?”
“I just got here.” The wind blows against her face. She looks across the black water. “I have no idea how to feel.”
“Have you returned to Dexter?”
“I’m staying with him yes.” Light glitters across the bay. “If that’s what you mean.”
“Don’t be coy. You’re better than that.”
She makes a face. “I don’t know.”
“Being with him does not fit you the way it once did?”
“I guess not. I don’t know, we haven’t…I-I haven’t been back long enough. I think.” She furrows her brow, rubs at it with the ball of her thumb. “It could fit, I guess. Maybe. With time.”
“Time.” His smile, the slow nature of it, comes out wrapped in his words. “And that is something you have a lot of right now.”
“Yes. Hannibal?”
“Yes, Lumen?”
“I’d like to ask you something.”
“Ask me anything.”
“Are you…” She pauses. “Are you here to work on the case? The…uh, shark girls, or mermaids, or whatever they’re calling it? Is that why you’re here?”
“Yes, but not in an official capacity. I find the details of this case rather fascinating, but whether or not I am to participate in a more official capacity is strictly at the discretion of Will Graham.”
His name hits her body like a blow. “Will Graham? And…and, uh…um…who is Will Graham, exactly?” She starts to sweat. “Is he your boss or something?”
“Mr. Graham is the FBI psychological profiler assigned to this case. I’m rather surprised that Dexter didn’t mention him to you.”
“He didn’t.
“Mr. Graham is a leader in his field and his presence is a boon to the local police. His work is nothing short of exemplary. He is also a teacher at Quantico and has written several notable books on the subject. I worked with him, as a consultant, on the Minnesota Shrike case.”
“I see. I get it, he’s good.”
“He is the best. I have had the singular pleasure of watching him work. It was a joy.”
“So…” She hugs her knees to her chest. “It’s mister Graham? Not doctor? Or, I don’t know, what is it they use? Agent? Special agent? Is it something like that?” She lets out a breathy chuckle. “Am I even close?”
“Yes…and no.” Hannibal chuckles. “Mr. Graham’s gifts are unique. They do not lend themselves well to a strictly defined governmental box.”
“You make him sound all oooh-scary or something.”
“He could be,” says Hannibal. “If properly motivated.”
“Isn’t that true of everyone?”
“Yes. Of course it is.”
“Yeah.”
“So. Shall we celebrate your triumphant return?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I am afraid that breakfast is off the table. There are meetings first thing tomorrow between liaisons from the local departments and Mr. Graham’s team. I would be remiss if I did not attend.”
“Okay.”
“Lumen? Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” She sighs. “Yeah, I’m all right. Why do you ask?”
“Forgive me. It is true that you and I don’t know each other well, but…you seem unsettled.”
“I’ve only been here one full day. Yeah, I’m…disjointed. Before that, I was on the road; before that—ˮ
“You and I met.”
“Yes. You and I met.”
“Our meeting set things in motion for you.”
“If what you mean by ‘setting things in motion’ is ‘blowing up my whole life,’ then yeah. But I wanted to do that anyway. Spending time with you just gave me the motivation to do it.”
“I’m glad I could do that for you.”
“Me too.”
Hannibal pauses.
“What?”
“Listen to me. Will you listen?”
“Yeah, of course I will.”
“You do not owe Dexter your body or your time, Lumen. That you are free now does not carry a secret price. Freedom was freely given to you—and freely taken by you. It’s yours now, to do with as you please.”
“I-I know.”
“Is it hard for you to be back here? What happened to you in this place…did it change the meaning of the land? Did it overwrite the ocean scent, the heaviness of flowers carried by the wind?”
A sudden, vicious sting floods her eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“It’s all right. It’s something that happens. It is perfectly normal, and you can undo all of it…but it takes time.”
Tears burn down over her face. “Yes…yes, I think so, I feel it sometimes, like a thing that waits until the right thing comes along…the way the light looks, or a smell, or some tree or something that looks a certain way…that makes a shape in the dark and I can hold it back.” She sniffs. “But my hands get slippery.”
“You belong to yourself and only to yourself. Those men could take from you, but they could not take you. Dexter can give to you, but he cannot give you yourself.” Hannibal lowers his voice. “Are you crying?”
“Yes.” Her jaw is tight, her teeth bared. “Y-Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“N-No, it’s okay…it’s okay, it feels good.” She hiccoughs. Her breathing spasms. Through the wet, she starts to smile. “It feels so good.”
“I would like to see you.”
She wipes her cheeks. “Now?”
“Yes. Now. May I?”
“I-I don’t…I…I need a shower. I look like shit.”
“That doesn’t matter to me.”
“I wouldn’t want to be an imposition,” she whispers.
“You wouldn’t be.”
“I’m okay.” She wipes her eyes. “I don’t need to be taken care of.”
“With all the respect in the world, I’m going to have to disagree. Helping you…that is something I can do. Please,” he murmurs. “Allow me this small thing.”
She rubs her face. “You’re right, I’m…I-I’m not what I could be right now. It feels weird, being here again. It feels…strange somehow, like coming home, but…but not.” She wipes her nose. “It’s like I’ve been granted this unbelievable grace, a second chance, whether I have earned it or not.”
“Grace does not need to be earned. Would you like me to pick you up?”
“No, I…I’m okay to drive. I’ll meet you.” She stands. “Where are you staying?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’ll be okay.”
“Do you know the Biltmore?”
“Um…yeah, I think so.” She lingers by the water, listens to its soft undulation against the concrete. “That’s the big pink fancy one in Coral Gables, right?”
He chuckles. “I have heard it described as such, yes. Can you find your way?”
“I think so.”
“It’s quite dark in this part of the city, and the streets are difficult to navigate by night. I’ll send a taxi, if you prefer.”
“No…no.” She holds out her hand and shakes her head; her eyes are closed, the tears beginning to dry up. “Look, I’m fine.” Lumen turns her back on the water. “I’ll be fine. Really.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. If you…if you want to get dinner sometime, let me know. Okay?” She walks to the white path, moves into the orange light cast down by the floods. “I’ve had a long day. I think I should just go back inside, have a hot bath, and call it a day. I appreciate your offer to help, I do. It means a lot.”
“Think nothing of it.”
“I think I’m…I’m just going to get my own hotel room for awhile. I need space.”
“Of course you do. If you feel I have overstepped my bounds, I apologize. That was not my intent.”
“I’ve spent most of the day out in the sun and I’m not used to it.” She laughs; the sound of it rises up to the brink of delirium and falls back, settles into wearied chuckling. “I’m so sun-stupid right now, still. I’ve got this raging sunburn on the top of my head. Really, I’m too tired for much of anything.”
“I only want what is best for you.”
Lumen inhales. The scent of the sea, the richness of gardenias, rain, cut grass, the odors of flowers she does not know opening themselves to the night, all of it comes to her senses. They fill her, lift her mind out of the drunk sunlight still trapped in her flesh.
“Me too,” she says. “And that’s sleep. And orange juice. And more sleep.”
“Then I shall not stand between you and sleep a moment longer,” he says. “Good night.”
“Good night, Hannibal.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
“Good.” She smiles. “I look forward to it.”
- 10
- 11
- 12
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Lumen Obscura