Hannibal Lecter Transcripts: Hannibal S1E4

Will: Sometimes at night I leave the lights on in my little house and walk across the flat fields... When I look back from a distance, the house is like a boat on the sea. It’s really the only time I feel safe.

Hannibal: You stood in the breathing silence of Gareth Jacob Hobbs’ home, the very spaces he moved through. Tell me, Will... Did they speak to you?

Will: With noise and clarity.

Hannibal: You could sense his madness, like a bloodhound...

Will: I tried so hard to know Gareth Jacob Hobbs. To see him.

Will: Past the slides and viles, beyond the lines of the police report, between the pixels of all those printed faces of sad dead girls.

Hannibal: How did you feel seeing Marissa Shore, impaled in his antler room?

Will: Guilty.

Hannibal: Because you couldn’t save her.

Will: Because I felt like I killed her... I got so close to him. Sometimes... I felt like we were doing the same things at different times of day... like I was eating or showering or sleeping at the same time he was.

Hannibal: Even after he was dead?

Will: Even after he was dead.

Hannibal: Like... you were becoming him.

Will: I know who I am. I’m not Gareth Jacob Hobbs, Dr. Lecter.

Alana: Hi.

Hannibal: Do you have an appointment?

Alana: Do you have a beer?

Hannibal: Interesting day with Abigail?

Alana: Yeah, with grief work, trauma intervention... It’s all on course. I think she might be wrestling with a low grade depression.

Hannibal: She?

Alana: Nothing wrong with a little self medication. Right, Doctor? Professional neutrality be damned. It’s so hard to watch a bright young girl go so adrift.

Hannibal: Perhaps it’s time Abigail is released from clinical treatment.

Alana: Released where? Back into the wild?

Hannibal: Spending each day immersed in tragedy may be doing more harm than good. She should be out in the world. Finding her footing, giving her the confidence to move forward.

Alana: Abigail is in no condition to tackle her real world issues. Where’s she gonna live?

Hannibal: I’m not suggesting abandonment.

Alana: Hannibal, this is a girl who was very attached to her parents. You stepping in as a surrogate, would only be a crutch. I think Abigail needs to figure things out for herself in a safe clinical environment. And that will give her the confidence to move forward.

Hannibal: I defer to the passion of my esteemed colleague. Passion’s good. Gets blood pumping.

Hannibal: Tell me about your mother.

Will: Some lazy psychiatry, Doctor Lecter. Low hanging fruit.

Hannibal: I suspect that fruit is on a high branch. Very difficult to reach.

Will: So is my mother. Never knew her.

Hannibal: An interesting place to start.

Will: Tell me about your mother, let’s start there.

Hannibal: Both my parents died when I was very young. The proverbial orphan until I was adopted by my Uncle Robertos when I was 16.

Will: You have orphan in common with Abigail Hobbs.

Hannibal: I think you’ll discover that you and I have a great deal in common with Abigail. She’s already demonstrated an aptitude for the psychological.

Will: There’s something so foreign about family... like an ill-fitting suit. I never connected to the concept.

Hannibal: You created a family for yourself.

Will: I’ve only connected a family of strays, and thank you for feeding them while I was away.

Hannibal: I was referring to Abigail. Tell me about the Turner family, were they affluent, well to do?

Will: They lived like they had money.

Hannibal: Did your family have money, Will?

Will: We were poor. I followed my father from the boatyards of Biloxi and Greenville, to lakeboats on Eerie.

Hannibal: Always the new boy at school, always the stranger.

Will: Always.

Hannibal: What grudge was Mrs. Turner’s killer harboring against her?

Will: Motherhood.

Hannibal: Not motherhood. A perversion of it.

Hannibal: A modified Boudin Noir from Ali Bab’s Gastronomie Pratique. You promised to deliver your wife to my dinner table.

Jack: Well we’ll have to polish up our act, we can’t have you diagnosing our marital problems all in one fell swoop. What am I about to put in my mouth?

Hannibal: Rabbit.

Jack: He should have hopped faster.

Hannibal: Yes, he should have. But, fortunately for us, he did not.

Jack: Our friend Will seems haunted today.

Hannibal: We don’t know what nightmares lie coiled beneath Will’s pillow.

Jack: Children killing other children is not that unfamiliar a notion to Will.

Hannibal: He still suspects Abigail Hobbs in her father’s crimes.

Jack: Perhaps the nightmare under Will’s pillow is that he was wrong about her.

Hannibal: Children transport us to our childhoods. Will may feel the tug of life before the FBI, before you. Simpler times in boatyards with dad. That life is an anchor streamed behind him in heavy weather. He needs an anchor, Jack.

Hannibal: Good evening, Will. Please come in. Has Christmas come early? Or late?

Will: Was for Abigail.

Hannibal: Was?

Will: I thought better of it, I wasn’t thinking straight. I was... I was upset when I bought it. Maybe still I am.

Hannibal: What is it?

Will: A magnifying glass. Fly tying gear.

Hannibal: Teaching her how to fish. Her father taught her how to hunt.

Hannibal: Pretty paternal, Will.

Will: Aren’t you?

Hannibal: Yes. Our good friend Doctor Bloom has advised against taking too personal an interest in Abigail’s welfare. Tell me why are you so angry?

Will: I’m angry about those boys, I’m angry because I know when I find them, I can’t help them. I can’t, I can’t give them back what they just gave away.

Hannibal: Family.

Will: Yeah. We call them “The lost boys”.

Hannibal: Abigail’s lost too. And perhaps it’s our responsibility, yours and mine, to help her find her way.

Abigail: I don’t think I’m allowed to leave, after I climb the fence.

Hannibal: I’ve made arrangements. You could say I’m one of your guardians.

Abigail: Where are we going?

Hannibal: Home. My home. I thought you might enjoy if I cooked for you. I’ll have you back before bedtime.

Abigail: Can’t I spend the night? I don’t like sleeping here, I have bad dreams.

Hannibal: You have to sleep in your own bed.

Abigail: This isn’t my bed.

Hannibal: Tell me about your bad dreams.

Abigail: I had one where Marissa was sending me picture texts. Like crime scene photos of Nicholas Boyle. Gutted.

Hannibal: How you left him.

Abigail: Even though she’s dead, I’m afraid that Marissa’s gonna tell everyone I killed him and they’ll think I’m just like my dad. Sorry. Can’t really talk about this, in group.

Hannibal: You don’t have that luxury, Abigail.

Abigail: I just have to get used to lying.

Hannibal: You only have to lie about one thing. And when you’re with me you don’t have to lie about anything.

Abigail: In the dream I wonder how I could live with myself. Knowing what I did.

Hannibal: And when you’re awake?

Abigail: When I’m awake, I know I can live with myself. And I’ll just get used to what I did. Does that make me a sociopath?

Hannibal: No. It makes you a survivor.

Hannibal: It’s important to know when it’s time to turn the page. Have you thought about applying for schools?

Abigail: My dad killed girls at all the schools I applied to.

Hannibal: Perhaps that can wait then.

Abigail: I wanna work for the FBI.

Hannibal: I would certainly feel safer if you were in the FBI, protecting my interests.

Abigail: They wouldn’t let me though, would they? Because of what my dad did.

Hannibal: Only if they believe that’s in your nature too.

Abigail: Nature versus nurture.

Hannibal: You’re not your father’s daughter, not anymore. What if it weren’t so painful anymore, to think of him?

Abigail: My dad?

Hannibal: Yes. Have you ever tried Psilocybin?

Abigail: Mushrooms? That’s what’s in the tea?

Hannibal: Yes. There are those psychiatrists who believe that altered states could be used to access traumatic memories.

Abigail: I have all the access to traumatic memories I need. Unlimited access.

Hannibal: Which is why we need to supplement them with positive associations. No more bad dreams, Abigail.

Abigail: You want me to do drugs?

Hannibal: I want you to do this drug. With my supervision it’s quite safe. Do you trust me?

Abigail: Doctor Bloom said this was okay.

Hannibal: Not at all, we often have a difference of opinion.

Abigail: More secrets for us.

Hannibal: Well. You and I will have many secrets. Infusing Psilosybin into the bloodstream before psychotherapy… can illicit a positive, even spiritual experience for patients. Psychological trauma is an affliction of the powerless. I want to give you your power back.

Abigail: I don’t feel so good.

Hannibal: That feeling will pass. Allow it to wash over you, through you. Let me be your guide.

Abigail: You’re making breakfast for dinner?

Hannibal: High life eggs. A chef in Spain called Muro claimed he invented it in the 19th century. Taste, is not only biochemical it’s also psychological.

Abigail: Sausage and eggs was the last meal I was having with my parents.

Hannibal: I know. It’s also the first meal you’re having with me.

Alana: As someone who makes such a big deal about common courtesy, I’m a little taken aback ,slash a lot taken aback, that you would take my patient... My patient! Out of the hospital without my permission. And I’m not a professional scold but don’t put me in this position ever again.

Hannibal: I’m sorry.

Alana: Rude! Hannibal shockingly rude!

Hannibal: You have every right to be upset with me. I overstepped my bounds.

Alana: Where is she?

Hannibal: She’s in the dining room. And, Alana... you were right.

Alana: Often am. You have to be more specific.

Hannibal: She wasn’t ready to leave the hospital, she…experienced a bit of anxiety so I gave her a sedative.

Alana: Sedative? What did you give her?

Hannibal: I only gave her half a Valium, but she may be a little hazy.

Abigail: Hi, Doctor Bloom.

Alana: Hello, Abigail. You were expecting me?

Hannibal: Please.

Abigail: You hungry? Hannibal made breakfast for dinner.

Alana: I could eat.

Hannibal: What is it? Abigail? What do you see?

Abigail: I see family.