The Consequences of My Actions
Hannibal Family Pt. 7: @charliedawn @iloveslasher
Morgan’s POV:
Dinner had been interesting last night. Peter’s little friend was quite the character. They spoke in an odd way, almost like they weren’t afraid to speak their mind. Not even about confrontational subjects, just anything that came to mind. They seemed to think a lot, their brows almost always knit together in a confused display.
They were younger than Peter, that much was obvious, but they were in the same class. So they must be somewhat intelligent. Otherwise my little cousin would not hang out with them. He didn’t bring many students home, unless they were to become dinner guests. Hannibal called Peter away for help with something nearly half an hour ago. I watched Newt from the shadows as they stayed in the living room.
They where laying on the their stomach on the carpet, rubbing small circles into the plush fabric with their palm. Everyone few seconds or so they would shiver. It would start at the top of their spine and roll all the way through their toes. I could see them scrunch their nose each time it happened, as if it made them uncomfortable. Yet they continued to do it. How odd.
I watched a little while longer, entranced by their odd behaviour. No wonder Hannibal found them intriguing. They were no Will Graham, but they hadn’t seen the things that man had. They weren’t quite haunted in the same way. Instead they held an hier of naivety. Normally I’d be disgusted by it, but I sort of pity them.
Danger is lurking quite literally right under their nose, and yet they’re none the wiser. Of course, we all loved Peter. But if it came down to it, Newt would be disposed off if they became a threat. But this was possibly the most non threatening human I’ve ever observed. Even toddlers have more devious intentions.
They had a peculiar way of moving as well. Their movements were stiff, instead jagged. But not with pause like someone in thought, instead disconnected like someone who’s checked out. Mentally ill, I’m sure. They have to be, everyone else knew to stay away from Peter. Despite his shy demeanour, others could sense his sinister undertones.
They were kicking their feet to some uneven beat. Changing rhythm haphazardly and with no reason. I suddenly realised, I had no idea what they were even meant to be doing. Why were they hanging out in the living room with Peter? The television wasn’t on, they didn’t have a book in front of them, no puzzles… they were just playing with the carpet and completely content. I moved a bit closer, still staying out of their peripheral.
They began to hum a tune, their voice low and soft. It was gentle at first, almost timid. But it grew louder seemingly the more impatient they got with waiting. Until they began to mumble the words.
“Forget you’re apart of me, I know that you’re fond of me. But when I ask you if you love me, forget like lobotomy.” They sang.
It was unlike any song I’d heard before. Kevin liked to keep up to date on the latest music trends. But this sounded nothing like the type of thing he enjoyed. Hannibal and I had more refined taste, of course.
“I wish I could take a piece of my heart out. Make you leave. But even if they cut out my whole brain, feelings will always be.”
Their feet kicking became more rhythmic as they got into the song.
“Make me forget who I am. Say you’ll make me understand, you’re just taking my personal power.” They finished.
They ended the song with a dramatic sigh, turning to flop on their back. They shivered once again, yet this time it was more violent, almost like a small jerk. It caused them to sit up suddenly. Their eyes were screwed shut, I tilted my head curiously.
“Peter?” They asked?
It was so soft, I almost didn’t hear it. They must have noticed my presence so I stepped forward into the light. I wasn’t expecting them to jump as much as they did.
“Oh! Morgan.” They said.
“Peter is still with Hannibal, did you need something? I was passing by and I heard you call for him.”
Their face scrunched up.
“No, it’s fine Morgan, thank you.”
The frowned deeply. The kind that tugged at the corner of their eyes. I was going to take my leave, not wishing to over stay my welcome, I could always go back to observing later. They still needed a proper threat assessment; to be tested. To see if they could be trusted.
“Are they ok?”
“Hmm?” I hummed.
“Just- well, they’ve been gone awfully long time…” they said nervously.
A small bead a sweat formed where their throat met their clavicule. I watched as they swallowed thickly. They were nervous all of a sudden, but was it because of me, or something else? I took a step forward.
“I’m sure everything’s just fine, perhaps Hannibal got a call from Mr. Crawford and didn’t have time to drop Peter off back at home.”
This only made them more worried. They shook their head, hugging their body.
“I Hope not, Peter doesn’t belong at places like that.”
What a strange statement. Peter thrived in the realm of the dead. We all did, killing was our specialty. He wouldn’t be disturbed by a measly criminals sloppy murder scene. They were all amateurs, which is why they got caught. Of course I knew where they were. They were dealing with a particularly nasty piece of shit. The more I observed Newt, the less I could understand how their father could abuse them as much as Hannibal seems to think he did. He didn’t tell me much, and I didn’t pry. If it was pertinent, I’d be the first to know.
But I couldn’t tell them that. That we kidnapped their father and we’re torturing them. That Peter requested to do most of it himself. He wanted to make that man hurt for every bad thing he did to his best friend. And I respected that, seeing him take initiative for once was thrilling. It’s a shame I had to be here instead, babysitting. Making sure they didn’t run.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
They tilted their head, brows furrowing much more. Almost as if nobody had ever asked them such a question. Perhaps no one had.
“We shouldn’t eat until everyone’s back home.”
Interesting, they called this place their ‘home’, not Peter’s, not mine, just home.
“Nonsense, a snack never killed anyone. I won’t tell if you don’t.” I offered.
I had to get them to trust me if I was going to test their loyalty. Scaring them away would do no good, not this time. Not when Peter seemed to actually care for this one. He would be devastated and I cannot have that clouding my conscious. I held my hand out for them to take, which they excepted.
“Thanks.” They mumbled.
They trailed behind me to the kitchen. I thought about what I could cook them. I knew for a fact, Hannibal had yet to serve them anyone yet. I don’t know what he was waiting for, it’s not like they would know. He’d done it many times, with Miss Lounds, Alana, Jack… Will. They’d all eaten someone without knowing. Even Abigail had, so Newt being a minor wasn’t what was stopping him. But I shouldn’t go behind his back, he had his reasons. As tempting as it would be to watch them devour someone, and see them break when they found out.
That was always the most fun, watching them break. The men were more satisfying, they always tried to me ‘manly’ about it. But they’d resort to puking and tears in no time. And the women, the women grew hysteric and would plead to whatever god they believed in for forgiveness. But Newt, how would they react? They belonged to neither classification, not fully. Despite looking like a girl on the outside, their brain was much more complex than that. I wondered what it would taste like. I shook the thought from my head, and looked back when a hand was placed on my shoulder. I raised a brow at them.
“Lost you there for a moment, where did you go?” They asked.
“Go?”
The gave me a nod, chuckling softly under their breath.
“In here.” They pointed to their head. “Your eyes went dark, like Peter’s do when he’s thinking.”
They too were observant, interesting. Maybe they would be more useful then I originally gave them credit for.
“Nowhere you need to worry yourself about.” I answered plainly. I knew they didn’t mean to pry, but they didn’t seem to understand we were still strangers. They shouldn’t pretend to know me because they knew Peter.
“Kevin doesn’t disappear in his head much.”
I raised a brow once more, daring them to continue.
“He hides in someone else’s instead. Poking around in whatever hole he can find. Digging deeper until they’re to confused to question his motives.” They started.
Bjr it didn’t sounds scared, or judgmental. It was like they were stating a simple fact. It wasn’t harsh, nor soft, just spoken plainly, with utter disinterest.
“You make my brother sounds like a narcissist.”
“With a tendency for sociopathy actually. He doesn’t like me very much.”
I frowned. Had they read Hannibal’s folders? I knew he kept files on each of us, his own way of feeling in control. He was in charge while Hannibal Sr. was in jail after all. We’d have to break him out soon; he’d been locked up for far to long.
“You believe Kevin is a sociopath?” I questioned.
I took some cheese from the fridge; grabbing the proper knife to cut it into cubes. Cheese and crackers would be a simple snack they would enjoy. They didn’t seem to be the type for a broad pallet. Their taste were quite childish.
“Is that what I said?” They asked back.
It wasn’t quite challenging in tone, more defensive.
“But you believe he had a tendency to be so.”
“He’s cynical, charming, arrogant, impulsive, irritable, presents as having little empathy and frequently gets in trouble in school. Often times, dragging Peter with him.” The concluded.
Fascinating. Yet they dared to challenge him last night at dinner. I continued to make their snack. They sat at the counter, fidgeting with their nails.
“You’ve paid attention to Kevin’s behaviour at school, before you were intimate with Peter?”
They scrunched their nose.
“Please do not use that word. There is nothing going on between Peter and I. Intimate suggests… unsavoury things, we’re familiar, harmonious, but not intimate.”
I raised my hands in mock defence. There was that shiver again, a visceral reaction.
“But yes, Kevin has been called down to the office 47 times, been reprimanded in front me 24, but I’m sure there’s been countless more, he’s gotten in 7 fist fights, two of which he didn’t initiate and he’s been suspended 3 times. All since the beginning of the year when I got here.”
They picked at the skin of their fingers more harshly, clearly becoming worked up. I knew I should step back, Hannibal wouldn’t be pleased if I started to wear down Peter’s new toy so quickly. But I couldn’t help myself.
“And what do you think of me?” I asked.
They looked up for the first time since they sat down, a bewildered look crossing their features.
“I don’t know you Morgan… I won’t pretend to.”
“Assume me.” I pushed.
They sighed heavily.
”You seem to have compulsive tendencies…” they poked around their head for more descriptors.
“Oh?”
“You’ve readjusted your grip on the knife 9 tiems, three for each time you’ve had to pick it up again after pausing. You did the same thing last night at dinner. You also spin your fork twice before eating. You tap for times on the table with your left forefinger once you’ve set a utensil down. And you adjust your sleeves between each action, which doesn’t come off as a nervous behaviour. In fact you don’t seem to be a nervous person in the slightest. You’re quite confident in all your actions.”
They cleared their throat.
“I could have declined your offer for a snack, but you would have persisted. Which suggests to me your obsessive need for control. You’re a perfectionist. If I had said no, it would have ruined how you pré-planned this whole interaction in your head. You wish to get to know me because your protective of your family, but more importantly Peter. Because you’re paranoid, a symptom of your PTSD.” They finished.
My grip on the knife tightened, my knuckles turning white. Now I knew why Hannibal’s patients felt uncomfortable when he read them. It was like being splayed open on an autopsy table for all the buzzards to pick and chose which sort of you they bore into. Their eyes trailed down to my hand. I expected them to react, pulling back in fear, and I would have to think quickly how to handle this. But I was stunned at what they did next.
Their hand felt gently on top of my own.
“I’m not going to hurt you, or Peter, Morgan. I answered because you asked. Don’t read to much into it.” They said, giving me a gentle smile.
I relaxed my hand a little.
“And Hannibal?” I questioned.
They were coming too close to figure us out, I would have to call a family meeting later. They didn’t retract their hand until they felt me pull my own away. They dropped their hands in their lap.
“Hmmm. He’s difficult to read. He doesn’t leave much time during our sessions for me to observe him. He asks too many questions. And outside of his office, we only meet during meals. He’s a very busy man. Possibly afraid of being alone with his own thoughts for too long. Perhaps Peter’s narcism was learned from Dr Lecter. He doesn’t mean to, but he’s not great at hiding his prejudice. But he judges with the best of intentions. Some Doctors join the feule because they like the sense of control, but he wouldn’t have become a psychologist if he didn’t want to help, right?”
Now this was interesting. A real question. A little intonation of hope at the end, they wanted a real answer.
“I do believe Hannibal enjoys his job, yes.”
They smiled at me.
“He too is low on empathy, which isn’t a bad thing. He makes up for it in showing sympathy, at least I can feel it. I’m sure his other patients do to.”
“So you’re officially a patient?”
“We’ll, no, no more than you are, I suppose. Perhaps I should be, I think Dr Lecter thinks so. He thinks our chats are useful, I find them boring. But it makes him happy, which in turn makes Peter happy, which-“
“Makes you happy”
I slid the plate to them.
“Peter makes me very happy.” They said.
I could tell it was sincere. The first statement they’d made this far that wasn’t flat. It held a type of warmth that I couldn’t rightfully describe. It was nice to know they didn’t have any sinister intentions with my cousin.
“Did I answer all you questions Morgan?”
“For now. Unless there’s anything else you’d like to share. Or I could leave you be until dinner.”
“No, I think I enjoy the company. Unless, of course, that was just your polite way of telling me you have better things to be doing. Thank you for the snack.”
I sat beside them on the counter, and watched a small smile grow on their lips.
“Your turn.” They said.
“You wish to know what I think of you?”
They nodded as they took a bite of the cracker. It was odd how happy they got from such a simple meal. It was so bland. They offered me one, but I pushed the plate back to them.
“We’ll, I’m not quite sure.”
“You don’t think you understand me, do you?“
“Does anyone understand anyone?”
They chuckled.
“I won’t be offended if you’re wrong. I’m sure I got a lot wrong earlier. My analysis was quite brutal, at least form a normal societal standpoint. Narcissism, and other personality disorders aren’t something that are taken lightly. People demonise them far to much. The people suffering with these conditions are still people, and society conveniently forgets that.”
No wonder they feel for Peter’s charms. They held all the cards to see the red flag, yet chose to wear rose coloured glasses. I pity them.
“We’ll, you care deeply, you show it with your actions rather than words. Acts of service are your love language. You’re adverse to touch most times, but you’re more comfortable when you initiate it first. And you do so when you’ve decided the other persons feelings are more important than your own.”
I watched as they chewed at their bottom lip, squirming in their seat. It was fun to watch.
“I don’t think you live in reality. You’re in heavy denial about something which is why you focus all your energy on being a people pleaser. You try your best to fit in, but not because it’s what you want to do, rather as a survival technique. You know your ship is sinking, so you desperately cling onto the most stable thing you can find, which happens to be my cousin. You idolise him, wrongfully so.”
They tore into the skin of their nails this time, little droplets of blood, beading at the surface.
“You don’t think Peter is worth looking up to?”
“Nobody ever is. Your attachment to my cousin is unhealthy, which is probably why Hannibal insists on making you one of his patients. He can stop you from taking things too far.”
They pushed out their chair.
“Thank you for your analysis Morgan. I think I’m done with snack time.”
They quickly left the room. I could tell they were fighting back tears. Sure, it was harsh, but was I wrong? Their interest could quickly turn to obsession. And I didn’t want to see Peter her his heart broken when Hannibal and I would have to put them down. They couldn’t stay long, it would be better to convince them to leave on their own. I took out my phone and called my uncle.
“How’s Peter doing?” I mused.
“You didn’t call just to talk about Peter, Morgan, spit it out.”
“The child is getting too close, you’ll have to work harder on your manipulation. They know you’re trying to sway them in some way, they just aren’t sure of what, or why. I’ve planted a seed of doubt, be sure to water it, won’t you?”
I hung up the phone. Hannibal and I were quite sparse in our communication. It wasn’t rude, just not laced with all the bullshit embellishments. Poor little Newt walked away with their tail between their legs. This should be fun.
Newt’s POV:
I felt stupid, utterly stupid. I promised I wouldn’t get upset, and like a cry baby, I went and ran away. How pathetic. But he wasn’t right. Peter was my friend, my normal friend. Sure, I’d never made one before, but this is how they described them in books.
My danger sense had been going off all day. But not strong, just a mild buzzing. And the longer it went in, the more I grew concerned. What the hell were Hannibal and Peter up to. The feeling grew in the pit of my stomach, and I knew I had to swallow my pride. Morgan knew where they were. I went around looking for him, finding him in the library. I stood at the entrance, debating if I should come in.
“Do come in Newt, I believe I owe you an apology for earlier” he said smoothly.
His tone of voice made me uneasy.
“No matter, it’s a nonissue. It’s late, I’m worried.”
“I spoke with Hannibal only an hour ago, everything’s fine.”
“No offense, but i don’t believe you. Not about this, not this time.”
He put down his book and slowly walked towards me.
“Are you accusing me of lying?”
“No, I- I can’t explain it. I just have a feeling something is wrong. It’s making me sick.”
He tilted his head at that.
“Fine, I’ll take you to them. Then you’ll learn to trust to take my word.”
I nodded. Something told me not to follow him into the car, but I pushed it aside. Making sure Peter was fine was my first priority. Everything about Morgan’s body language screamed instability. He was upset, but I don’t think he’d hurt me. He’s too smart, too proud. But as we made our way further from town, towards the woods, my stomach twisted further.
“Morgan”
“They’re just a little further, old family cabin.” He stated.
We indeed arrived at a cabin, which calmed my anxiety a bit. But I was still on edge. It reminded me of when my father would take me out of town for our hunting trips, and we’d stay in cabins liek this one. He took the keys out of the car.
“We’ll go on, they’re just inside.” He said.
I frowned.
“You’re not coming in?” I asked suspiciously.
“I don’t need to, I know they’re here.”
I squinted at him, scrunching my nose before hesitantly opening the car door. I slowly made my way to the cabin, knocking a few times but not hearing a response. I turned back to look at Morgan, who just shooed me forward. I tried the door and it was unlocked. Weird, that seemed unlike a man like Hannibal.
Most of the cabin was pristine, just like the house. This was definitely one of Hannibal’s properties. It was also fairly quiet. What were they doing out in a cabin by the lake all day? The sun was almost setting and Peter hadn’t checked his phone since he left. A little mouse scurried across my foot, and I looked after where it went. There were little red foot prints leading to a hole in the wall.
I followed the mouse to the little hobbit hole and held out my hand, waiting. It peaked it its nose out after a minuet or so, and I let it sniff my hand. It slowly climbed onto it, and I brought it close to my face to observe. It was covered in some sort of red substance, perhaps they were painting? I set the mouse back down and let it go back into the wall. I pushed forward, noticing a latch in the floor near the back of the house.
I thought for a moment, knowing it would be rude to enter. Morgan was probably just setting me up, getting back at me for earlier. But that bad feeling didn’t go away, so I opened the latch. I could see a light in the distance, they were down there. I could go, but, something urged me to push forward. So I carefully made my way down the later and slowly rounded the corner. I didn’t want to sneak up on them, but talking didn’t seem right, right now. My voice would come out too shaky.
I stepped in a small puddle, but shrugged it off, until I looked around the corner. My heart nearly stopped. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Hannibal and Peter where here alright, but so was my father. Despite everything yelling in me to run, my instincts betrayed me.
“Daddy?” I asked.
All three men turned to me. My father looked shocked, but could barely react from how swollen his face was. I thought I saw a glimpse of anger appear on Hannibal’s face, but I couldn’t care less. My eyes were trained on Peter. He held a knife in his hand, and his jumper was covered in blood, so was his skin. His perfect, welcoming, skin. It was tainted now. Marred with the blood of my father.
“Newt.” Hannibal started.
Peter opened his mouth multiple times to speak, but it was clear he couldn’t come up with anything to say. I didn’t dare take my eyes off him though. Hannibal took a step forward and I took a step back.
“Peter?” I asked.
I watched his eyes shift to Hannibal, like he was looking for some kind of confirmation. Hannibal moved forward again, but I moved back.
“I won’t run.” I stated simply. “So please, stop trying to chase me.” I said calmly.
Hannibal looked hesitant, but agreed to my request.
“Morgan brought me. I was worried you weren’t well. You didn’t answer your phone.”
“Morgan called an hour ago, he should have told you we would be home shortly.”
I chuckled dryly.
“And leave a job unfinished? That’s seems unlike you Dr Lecter.”
“You aren’t upset?” Peter finally spoke.
God, his voice broke me. Actually hearing him speak made this all the more real. He sounded scared. Of me?
“Oh, I’m livid right now Peter. The only thing stopping me from making and rash decisions right now, is the fact that you’re holding a knife, and I know Hannibal won’t hesitate. And I’m sure Morgan’s behind me right now.” I finished.
As if on cue, he gabbed me from behind, holding me tightly to his chest so I couldn’t flee.
“You we’re getting too close.”
“I told you not to read to much into it.”
“Reading into things is the Lecter specialty” he quipped.
“You weren’t meant to see this.” Peter brought my attention back to him.
He stepped forward, and due to Morgan’s hold on me, I couldn’t budge.
“Any of this.”
“So you were going to leave me to wither alone in the dark, forever? We’re meant to light each others flames Peter, not smother them. You promised.” My voice broke.
“I didn’t want to hurt you.”
He was at arms reach now, knife still in hand. But I didn’t dare look at it, I held eye contact dispute how uncomfortable it made me.
“You think your lies do not hurt?” I was quickly becoming enraged.
This wasn’t Peter, my Peter. This Peter was ugly, and cold.
“He just wanted to help. Your father is a monster. The things he did to you-“
“To me! This isn’t your call to make!” I was yelling now.
I was never one to raise my voice, but I couldn’t help myself.
“He’s my father… MINE!” I screamed.
My body was shaking with rage at this point, my vision growing blurry with frustrated tears. I could hear Morgan chuckle behind me, he was enjoying this.
“Not yours Peter.” I tried to calm myself.
“Despite all this, have I given you any reason not to trust me Dr Lecter?”
He thought for a moment.
“No. You have not.”
“Then when I said I wouldn’t run, I meant it. Please tell Morgan to let me go. I don’t like being touched, let alone manhandled.”
Hannibal gave him a nod and he let me go. I adjusted myself, brushing off the icky feeling that cling to my skin. Peter tried to approach but I pushed past him. I approached my father, and the three men watched, on edge. I grabbed his face In my hands, looking him in the eye before ripping out his gag.
“Speak.”
“You vindictive little bitch, I should have let your mother smother you with that pillow when you were an Infant.”
He spat in my face. A mix of salvia and blood hitting me, the warmth of it made me want to vomit. I used my sleeve to wipe it away.
“Huh. No apology?” I asked.
“The only thing I’m sorry for is raising a bastard child like you. I forgave your mother for the affair, she paid for that. But she grew attached to you, that was her mistake.”
My eyes widened. I wasn’t even his blood? This whole time I felt disgusted being related to someone like him. And my mother, she- it didn’t matter now. I started laughing, the kind of laugh the final girl gets when she escapes the killer at the end of a movie.
“We’ll, if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions. To think, I brought some poor stranger into my family problems. Poor you, the husband of a cheating whore, and the surrogate father of an innocent child who loved you unconditionally.”
I scoffed.
“I cried for you, you know. Every-time I’ve thought about telling the school, or the police. The thought of you rotting in jail made my stomach sick. Mother would never forgive me, and I’d be the outcast who put their own father in jail. Cause what you did to me wasn’t that bad, right? Everyone’s father lost his temper sometimes, it was normal. I was just being dramatic, and a baby. Well guess what dad, I’ve grown up!”
I grabbed an ice pick from the table of tools and quickly plunged it between his rib cage, narrowly missing his heart.
“I’m not that naive little kid anymore, who thinks daddy just wants what’s best for them. You can’t order me around anymore.”
I twisted it in. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I flinched back, pulling my shoulder out of the way. In turn taking the weapon with me. Something clicked when I looked down at my hands, seeing the red, feeling the hot sticky sensation of his blood on my hands. I was going to be sick. I dropped the ice pick and stumbled back in shock.
“What did I-“
Peter pulled me into a hug, I crumpled to the floor, a sobbing mess. He shushed me, rocking me back and forth gently.
“It’s ok Newt, he’s never gonna hurt you again. And I don’t have to lie anymore, I promise.” He said.
“Morgan, get them home. I’ll clean this up.”
The rest of the evening was a blur. I was too stunned to have any coherent thoughts, or hear any of what they tried to say to me.
An: I was having a bad day, and this fic made me feel better lol. Hannibal is my OG comfort character.
