All language subtitles for Hannibal (2013) - S01E10 - Buffet Froid (1080p BluRay x265 RCVR)-eng

Previously on Hannibal...

Abigail Hobbs killed Nick Boyle.

We can tell no one.

I'm worried about you, Will.

You empathize so completely with the killers

Jack Crawford has your mind
wrapped around

that you lose yourself to them.

Maybe I should get a brain scan.

Do you feel unstable?

Is there a problem, Will?

- You lost time.
- There's something wrong with me.

I'm your friend, Will.
I don't care about the lives you save,

I care about your life,
and your life is separating from reality.

I can feel my nerves

clicking like roller coaster cogs

pulling up to the inevitable long plunge.

Quick sounds, quickly ended.

Abigail Hobbs ended Nicholas Boyle.

Like a burst balloon.

She took a life.

You've taken a life.

Yeah. Yeah, so have you.

You're grieving, Will.
Not for the life you have taken,

but for the life that was taken from you.

If Abigail could have started over,
left the horror

of her father behind, so could have you.

You could untangle yourself from
the madness and the murder.

We lied for her.

We both know the unreality of taking a life.

The people who die
when we have no other choice.

We know
in those moments they are not flesh,

but light and air and color.

Isn't that what it is to be alive?

Do you feel alive, Will?

I feel like I'm fading.

Have you experienced
any further loss of time or hallucinations?

Yeah.

I'd like you to draw a clock face.

Numbered.

Small hand indicating the hour,
large hand the minute.

- Why?
- An exercise.

I want you to focus on the present moment.

The now. Often as you can,
think of where you are and when.

Think of who you are.

7:16 pm.

I'm in Baltimore, Maryland.

And my name is Will Graham.

A simple reminder.

A handle to reality for you to hold onto.

And know you're alive.

What happened in there?

I got confused.

I've seen you confused
and I've seen you upset,

but I've never seen you afraid like this.

Well, I'm an old hand at fear.
I can manage this one.

I just got disoriented. I can go back in.

I saw the look on your face
when you came out of that room.

Now, what did you
experience in there that's got you

mute all of a sudden?

I can see and hear better afraid.

I just can't speak as concisely.

Will, you contaminated the crime scene.

You've never done that before.

I thought I was responsible for it.

What are you saying? You thought that
you killed that woman in there?

Sometimes with what I do.

What you do

is you take all of
the evidence available at a crime scene.

You extrapolate.

You reconstruct the thinking of a killer.

You don't think of yourself as the killer.

I got lost in the reconstruction.

Just for a second. Just a blink.

I know you don't like to be
the cause for concern,

but I am officially concerned about you.

Officially?
- Yes, that's right.

I thought the reason you had me seeing

Dr. Lecter and not an FBI psychiatrist is so
my mental well-being stays

-unofficial.
- I just want to be careful with you.

We don't want to break you here.

Is that what's happening?
Have I broken you?

Do you have anyone that does this
better unbroken than I do broken?

Fear makes you rude, Will.

Her name was Beth LeBeau.

She drowned on her own blood.

And what she
didn't drown on is all over the floor

and under the bed.
She was trying to hide from him.

He dragged her there.
He was waiting under the bed for her.

Fought to claw her way out.

He knew her. Someone who cared
about her or thought he did.

He cared too much.

So, we're looking for boyfriends,
ex-boyfriends, coworkers,

the guy who bags her groceries.

I've got a clean set of prints
on the knife handle.

I assume they're yours.

Sorry.

There's other dermal tissue,
presumably from the killer's,

but the skin is so diseased
or damaged it didn't leave

any useful prints.

The victim scratched
her killer deep enough to pile

tissue under the fingernails,

but never drew blood.

Why didn't he bleed?

After he cut up the victim's face,

it looks like
he was trying to pull her skin back.

Like he was removing a mask?

I still have the coppery smell of blood
on my hands.

I can't remember seeing the crime scene
before I saw myself killing her.

Those memories sank out of sight,
yet you're aware of their absence.

There's a grandiosity
to the violence that I imagined

that feels more real than what I know is true.

What do you know to be true?

I know I didn't kill her. I couldn't have.

But I remember cutting into her.
I remember watching her die.

You must overcome these delusions
that are disguising your reality.

What kind of savage
delusions does this killer have?

It wasn't savage. It was lonely.

It was desperate. Sad.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror

and I looked right through me,

past me, as if I was 3... Was just a stranger.

You have to honestly
confront your limitations with what you do.

And how it affects you.

If by limitations

you mean the difference between sanity
and insanity, I don't accept that.

- What do you accept?
- I know what kind of crazy I am

and this isn't that kind of crazy.

This could be seizures.

This could be a tumor.

A blood clot.

I can recommend a neurologist.

But if it isn't physiological,
then you have to accept

what you're struggling
with is mental illness.

You're in very good hands.

Dr. Lecter here

-is one of the sanest men I know.
- I would agree.

Dr. Sutcliffe
and I were residents together at Hopkins.

Another life ago,

back when you
weren't afraid to get your hands a little dirty.

I was always drawn to how the mind works.

I found it much more dynamic
than how the brain works.

The projected image
is more interesting than the projector,

until, of course, the projector breaks down.

So, Will, these headaches.

When did they begin in earnest?

Two to three months ago.

About the time Will went back

into the field, which is when I met him.

And the hallucinations?

I can't really say when they started.

I just slowly
became aware that I might not be dreaming.

It's encephalitis.

- That's your prediagnosis?
- Yes.

Based on?

I could smell it.

So your sense of smell has
gone from calling out a nurse's perfume

to diagnosing autoimmune disease.

He started sleepwalking
and I noticed a very specific scent.

And what exactly does
encephalitis smell like?

It has heat. A fevered sweetness.

If you suspected,
why didn't you say something?

Had to be sure.

Symptoms began slowly
and gradually worsened.

And yesterday, I asked him to draw a clock.

This is what he drew.

Spatial neglect.

Headaches, disorientation,
hallucinations, altered consciousness.

It's all the telltale signs.

It is so rare to
be able to study the psychological effect

of this type of malady on a person's mind.

It's more rare still
to be able to study the neurological effects.

A doctor has to weigh
the ultimate benefit of scientific study.

Even in these times,
we know so little about the brain.

There are great discoveries to be made.

The right side of his brain
is completely inflamed.

It's anti-NMDA receptor encephalitis.

- The symptoms are only going to get worse.
- I know.

It's unfortunate for Will.

What do you smell on me?

Opportunity.

We didn't find anything abnormal.

No vascular malformations, no tumors,

no swelling or bleeding,
no evidence of stroke.

Nothing.

There's nothing wrong
with you neurologically.

So What I'm experiencing is psychological.

Well, brain scans
can't diagnose mental disorders.

They can only rule out medical illnesses

like a tumor,
which can have similar symptoms.

Look, we'll run some more tests.

We'll take some more
blood samples, but I imagine

they'll prove to be just as inconclusive.

You knew from the moment you walked

into his classroom
that you were putting Will

in a potentially destructive environment.

I had eight college girls dead in Minnesota.

Will caught their killer for me.

He also caught their killer's disease.

He can't stop
thinking about what it is to take a life.

Well, I'd rather he go a little mad than
other innocents lose their lives,

and I think he would feel the same way.

Will is an innocent.

Yes. He is. I mean, Will is genuine.

He'll survive anything
I could put him through.

He will always fight his way back to himself.

Not always. So far.

He saw a neurologist today.

They found nothing wrong with him.
He was very upset by that.

You're saying he wanted
something to be wrong?

I think he wanted
an answer that wasn't mental illness.

You think he's mentally ill?

The problem Will has
is too many mirror neurons.

Our heads are filled
with them when we are children.

Supposed to help us socialize
and then melt away.

But Will held on to his, which makes
knowing who he is a challenge.

When you take him to a crime scene, Jack,

the very air has screams smeared on it.

In those places, he doesn't just reflect.

He absorbs.

It's 10:36.

I'm in Greenwood, Delaware.

My name is Will Graham.

It's 1:17 am.

We're in Greenwood, Delaware.

And my name is Will Graham.

And you're alive.

If you can hear me,

you're alive!

Why did you call me?

Why not Jack? Why not the police?

I called you because

I'm not entirely sure what I saw was real.

Then let's prove it.

I grabbed her arm.

And an entire layer of dead skin separated

from the underlying tissue,
like she was wearing a glove.

That's why she doesn't bleed.

Right. There's no circulation.

And there's nothing alive
in the tissue to bind it.

What did you do with it?

- I don't know.
- You can't remember?

Could be a staphylococcal infection.

- That or leprosy.
- Her eyes were discolored.

She was malnourished, jaundiced.
Her liver was shutting down.

She was deranged.

So she mutilated a woman's face
because she thought it was a mask.

She can't see faces.

If she did kill Beth LeBeau,
she might not even know she did it.

Then why did she come back?

To convince herself she didn't.

Is that why you came back?

If I wasn't clear on that issue,

I know I didn't kill Beth LeBeau.

I just want to know who did.

Me too.

Yeah.

You're the subject
of a lot of speculation at the bureau.

Oh, yeah? What are they speculating?

That Jack pushed you right up to the edge,

and now you're pushing yourself over.

This killer can't accept her reality.

I can occasionally identify with that.

That said, I feel

relatively sane.

It's 7:05 pm.

I'm in Baltimore, Maryland.

My name is Will Graham.

Thank you for humoring me.

I feel like I'm seeing a ghost.

- Regarding this killer or yourself?
- Both.

Well, she's real.
You know she's real. There's evidence.

When you found her,

your sanity did not leave you.

- Time did.
- You lost time again?

I spoke to Dr. Sutcliffe.

We briefly discussed
the particulars of your visit.

Would you like to discuss them with me?

There are no particulars.
He didn't find anything wrong.

Then we keep looking for answers.

Perhaps you would permit me
to run some tests of my own.

You wouldn't publish
anything about me, would you, Dr. Lecter?

If there were ever anything that might be
of therapeutic value to others,

I'd abstract it in a form that
would be totally unrecognizable.

Just do me a favor
and publish it posthumously.

After your death or mine?

Whichever comes first.

Have you considered Cotard's Syndrome?

It's a rare delusional disorder

in which a person
believes he or she is dead.

Are you talking about the killer or me?

- The killer, of course.
- Well, of course.

She couldn't see the victim's face.

Or she was trying to uncover it.

The inability to identify others
is associated with Cotard's.

It's a misfiring in the areas of the brain

which recognize faces
and also in the amygdala,

which adds emotion to those recognitions.

Even those closest
to her would seem like imposters.

So she... She reached out to
someone she loved, someone she trusted.

She felt betrayed, became violent.

She can't trust anything
or anyone she once knew to be trustworthy.

Her mental illness won't let her.

We matched tissue samples from
the crime scene

to your daughter's medical records.

I was almost relieved
when I got that phone call.

I thought that you
had found her and she was...

Would be at peace.

You thought she might be dead?

Well, that makes
me sound like a horrible mother.

I tried to be a good morn.

I tried to do everything that I could.

I just don't want her to be in pain.

No one's doubting your dedication to
your daughter, Mrs. Madchen.

How well did she know Beth LeBeau?

They were best friends.
They went to school together,

until it was
unsafe for Georgia to go to school.

When did you
first recognize that your daughter was

struggling with mental illness?

When she was nine and she told me that
she was thinking about killing me

and said that she was already dead.

What sort of symptoms did she have?

She had seizures, hallucinations,

psychotic depression.

I was grateful when she was catatonic.

Was she ever violent?

Sometimes.

What did her doctor say?

Not much.

She spent months at a time in the hospital.

Blood tests and brain scans

and all of them inconclusive.

They could never tell me what was wrong.

And you still don't know?

They would
just say it was this or it was that.

You know, they were just...

They were just always guessing.

And I did my own research.

I wrote down every word
that the doctors said,

the different terminology. Learned a lot.

But mostly what I learned is,

how little is actually
known about mental illness.

All they know, it's rarely
about finding solutions.

It's just more about managing expectations.

Managing your expectations?

Changing my expectations.

You know, when Miriam Lass died,

I had to come back here
to this office to pack up.

But that got to be too overwhelming.
I thought I should just leave,

seeing as how I had gotten a trainee killed.

That lack of leadership on my part,
that was my responsibility.

You didn't kill Miriam Lass,
the Chesapeake Ripper did.

It didn't feel that way to me.

I pulled her out of a classroom,
like I pulled you out of a classroom.

No.

She was a student, I am a teacher.

I'm still just as responsible for you
as I was for her.

I'll take my own responsibility.

Well, not from me you won't.

We can do it together.
I broke the rules with Miriam.

I encouraged her to break the rules.

I am breaking the rules with you now.

By letting an unstable agent do field work?

Special agent.

That means you represent the FBI.
You still represent me.

- Have I misrepresented you, Jack?
- No, no.

But you have me curious.

Why are you still here when the both of us
know that this is bad for you?

- Do you want me to quit?
- No.

No, you had an opportunity to quit.

You didn't take it. Why not?

Let me tell you what I think.
I think that the work

you do here has
created a sense of stability for you.

Stability is good for you, Will.

Stability requires strong foundations, Jack.

- My moorings are built on sand.
- I'm not sand.

I am bedrock.

When you doubt yourself,
you don't have to doubt me too.

The Jamon Iberico.

Still love your little rare treats,
don't you, Hannibal?

The more expensive
and difficult they are to obtain, the better.

It's a distinction that adds
an expectation of quality.

- Not always.
- Well, for Iberico,

only a few thousand are selected each year.

But is the pig,

once fattened
and slaughtered and air cured,

really superior to any other pig?

Or is it simply a matter of

reputation preceding product?

It's irrelevant.

If the meat-eater thinks it's superior,

then belief determines value.

A case of psychology overriding neurology.

So, we know how Iberico gets his pigs.

How did you get yours?

Are you referring to Will Graham?

We know you're fond of the rarified.

What makes him so rare?

Will has a remarkably vivid imagination.

Beautiful. Pure empathy.

Nothing he can't understand,
and that terrifies him.

So you set his mind on fire.

Imagination is
an interesting accelerant for a fever.

So, how far does this go?

Do you put out the fire

or do you let him burn?

Will is my friend.

We will put out the fire when it's necessary.

He has asked for more tests.

Now that we have confirmed what it is,
it'll be easier to hide from him.

You put these in.

This'll be over before you know it.

Dr. Sutcliffe?

You're clean.

You couldn't have done
this without getting something on you,

and there's nothing on you.

I don't feel clean.

The murder weapon
has the same sort of diseased

or damaged tissues that we found

at Beth LeBeau's house.

What's this guy
got to do with the other victim?

Just me.

What do you remember?

I remember coming here,

going into the MRI, getting out

and finding Dr. Sutcliffe's body.

No confusion?

Well, not that I'm aware of.

Was your Dr. Sutcliffe in the habit of

seeing patients after hours
when he's the only one in the office?

He was very accommodating.

Georgia Madchen followed you here

and while you're ticking away in the MRI,

she does this to your doctor.

- Why him?
- She can't see faces.

Maybe she thought he was me.

All right, while we're at it, Why you?

I don't know.

I have a habit of collecting strays.

I told her,
tried to tell her the night I saw her,

I tried to tell her she was alive.
Maybe she heard me.

Maybe that hadn't occurred to her in a while.

I see you, Georgia.

Think of who you are.

It's midnight.

You're in Wolf Trap, Virginia.

Your name is Georgia Madchen.

You're not alone.

We are here together.

Am I alive?

She'll recover?

Risk of infection is high.
She's lost most of her vital fluids.

Even some bone mass.

She's being treated like a burn victim.

But she'll recover mentally?

She has Cotard's Syndrome.

Almost all sufferers
of this delusion recover with treatment,

in extreme cases like this one,
electroconvulsive therapy.

I'm more concerned about Will.

I thought you'd be more concerned about
your colleague, Dr. Sutcliffe.

I am grieving Dr. Sutcliffe,
but Will is very much alive.

He's still desperate for an explanation that
can make everything right again.

I'm pretty desperate
for some explanations myself.

I really want to talk
to this young woman when she comes to.

How much do you think she'll remember?

Well, I sincerely hope,
for her sake, she doesn't remember much.