Hannibal Lecter Transcripts: Hannibal S2E2

Will: I've lost the plot. I am the unreliable narrator of my own story.

Alana: You have an incomplete self. There are pieces of you... you can't see.

Will: I'm afraid to see. I don't know who I am anymore. And I'm afraid.

Hannibal: Without remembering, you're seized by something imagined.

Will: I don't know which is worse. Believing I did it... or, um, believing that you did it and... did this to me.

Alana: Hannibal isn't responsible, Will. And neither are you. We have to get to the truth of what happened. It's the only way you can move forward.

Will: I felt so betrayed by you. Betrayal was the only thing that felt real to me. I... I trusted you. And I needed to trust you.

Hannibal: And you can trust me.

Will: I am very... I'm v... I'm very confused.

Alana: Of course you are.

Hannibal: Will, let us help you. Let me help you.

Will: I... I... I need your help.

Hannibal: What a pleasant surprise. Please. Sit down.

Bedelia: I won't be staying long.

Hannibal: I'm curious what couldn't wait until our next session?

Bedelia: We don't have a next session. I am no longer your therapist.

Hannibal: May I ask why?

Bedelia: I have reached the limit of my efficacy. I don't believe I can help you.

Hannibal: Are you giving me a referral?

Bedelia: No. I am simply ending our patient-psychiatrist relationship.

Hannibal: You tried to end it before.

Bedelia: I... am grateful for your persistence in engaging me after my attack. However, in light of everything that has happened with Will Graham, I have begun to question your actions. Particularly, your past actions with regards to me and my attack.

Hannibal: Did you share these questions with Jack Crawford?

Bedelia: No. And nor will I. I would look just as guilty as you. But perhaps that is what you intended.

Hannibal: What exactly am I guilty of?

Bedelia: Exactly, I cannot say. I've had to draw a conclusion based on what I glimpsed through the stitching of the person suit that you wear. And the conclusion that I've drawn is that you are dangerous.

Hannibal: I'm sorry you feel that way.

Bedelia: Please don't come to my home again. I will see myself out.

Hannibal: I'm resuming Will Graham's therapy.

Bedelia: To what end? Besides your own.

Hannibal: He asked for my help.

Bedelia: Then maybe you deserve each other.

Jimmy: His name is Roland Umber; same profile as the other victims. Lived alone, disappeared from home, and a large dose of heroin in his system.

Jack: This victim wasn't unstrung; he was ripped from his moorings.

Hannibal: Whatever his imperfection, it was enough to aggravate the killer into tearing him down.

Beverly: He was discarded in a tributary over 400 miles away from anything that feeds into the dam where the first victims were found.

Hannibal: Like dandelion seeds, casting bodies in every direction but his own.

Brian: Very poetic. The buffeting in the current causes so many post-mortem injuries, it's impossible to tell them from the ones they got, uh, when they were alive.

Beverly: Excuse me.

Jack: Doctor, join me over here.

Hannibal: There may be trace evidence preserved in the craquelure.

Jimmy: What?

Hannibal: Craquelure. It's French for the cracks that appear on an oil painting as it dries and it becomes rigid with age. Cracks are not always weaknesses. A life lived accrues in the cracks.

Beverly: Could be something in there. Fiber, debris. Might help track where the bodies were before they got dumped.

Jack: What do the victims have in common?

Beverly: What if it isn't what they have in common? What if it's what makes them different? Each of these people has a slightly different flesh tone. It could be like a color palette.

Hannibal: The color of our skin is so often politicized. It would almost be refreshing to see someone revel in the aesthetic for aesthetics' sake if it weren't so horrific. We're supposed to see color, Jack. That may be all this killer has ever seen in his fellow man, which is why it is so easy for him to do what he does to his victims.

Jack: Which is why there'll be a lot more bodies on his color palette.

Hannibal: A fascinating insight, Ms. Katz as if Will Graham himself were here in the room.

Jack: Yes, it is.

Hannibal: I've been obliged to stay on this side of the line.

Will: Select patients have taken to urinating on the therapists.

Hannibal: I would argue drawing a line might encourage a pissing contest.

Will: I'm not interested in a pissing contest with you, Dr. Lecter. Please, pull up your chair.

Hannibal: You said the light from friendship won't reach us for a million years, that's how far away we are. I hope our friendship feels closer today.

Will: Friends have a symmetrical relationship. Psychiatrist and patient, that's unbalanced.

Hannibal: There is a power differential between psychiatrist and patient... one that I'm well aware of, particularly with my own therapist.

Will: But we're just having conversations.

Hannibal: You threatened me with a reckoning.

Will: I did. I can't claim unconsciousness on that one.

Hannibal: You were searching for something in your head to incriminate me. I can only assume you didn't find it.

Will: There's not much in there I recognize.

Hannibal: Whatever you remember, if you do remember, will be a distortion of reality, not the truth of events.

Will: I'm realizing that.

Hannibal: Beverly Katz has come to see you.

Will: Yes.

Hannibal: Wouldn't want Alana Bloom to worry about you dwelling on anything morbid in what's to be a time of recovery.

Will: It's the only thing that feels normal.

Hannibal: The violence?

Will: The structure of understanding the violence.

Hannibal: You're missing pieces of yourself. Careful what you replace them with. What did you see in the pictures?

Will: This killer... he's not stringing his victims up; he's stitching them together. Each body is a brushstroke. He's making a human mural.

Hannibal: Why does he do it?

Will: He's missing pieces too.

Hannibal: Hello. I love your work.

Hannibal: How ever did you find this place?

Beverly: You and Will Graham are a good team. You gave us the "what" we were looking for; he gave us the "where." Corn dust on the craquelure.

Hannibal: Yes, Will and I do make a good team.

Beverly: Will didn't think Roland Umber was discarded; he escaped. We just went upstream from where the body was found until we hit corn.

Jack: Hey, Beverly. Dr. Lecter. Follow me, please. You might want to prepare yourself. You've never seen anything like this.

Hannibal: I'm sure I haven't.

Jack: How could a human being go so bad?

Hannibal: When it comes to nature versus nurture, I choose neither. We are built from a DNA blueprint and born into a world of scenario and circumstance we don't control.

Jack: Praise the mutilated world, huh?

Hannibal: What did it look like from above? Fascinating.

Jack: Ritual human sacrifice.

Hannibal: I'm not sure if it's an offering, but it's certainly a gesture.

Jack: To whom?

Hannibal: The eye looks beyond this world into the next and sees the reflection of man himself. Is the killer looking at God?

Jack: Maybe it's some sick existential crisis.

Hannibal: If it were an existential crisis, I would argue there wouldn't be any reflection in the eye at all.

Jack: A person who could do this kind of thing, would they be likely to continue doing it?

Hannibal: This could be his beginning. And/or his end. He may never kill again.

Jack: You said he doesn't see people, that he sees material.

Hannibal: Those in the world around him are a means to an end. He uses them to do what he's driven to do.

Will: Oh, now you're just taking advantage. You're going to burn me out before my trial, and then where will I be? What would Jack say?

Hannibal: Jack's excellent administrative instincts are not often tempered by mercy.

Will: Clearly.

Beverly: I'm devoting a lot of time to this mural, Will. It's hard for me to focus on anything else I've been tasked to do. Could use your help.

Hannibal: In the 19th century, it was wrongly believed that the last image seen by the eyes of a dying person would be fixed on the retina. What would be the last image fixed on this dying eye?

Will: The killer is in the mural.

Beverly: What do you mean? Literally?

Will: I mean, the man you're looking for is sewn into his own mural. This man.

Beverly: What happened to his leg?

Will: Whoever sewed him in took a piece of him. As a trophy.

Hannibal: He must have had a friend.

Hannibal: You're not alone, you know? In The Resurrection, Piero della Francesca placed himself in the fresco. Nothing flattering, he depicted himself as a simple guard asleep at his post. Your placement should be much more meaningful.

Man: It's not finished.

Hannibal: I'm finishing it for you. We'll finish it together. When your great eye looked to the heavens, what did it see?

Man: Nothing.

Hannibal: Not anymore.

Man: There is no God.

Hannibal: Certainly not with that attitude. God gave you purpose. Not only to create art, but to become it.

Man: Why are you helping me?

Hannibal: Your eye will now see God reflected back. It will see you. If God is looking down at you, don't you want to be looking back at Him?