All language subtitles for Hannibal.S01E05.Coquilles.1080p.Web-DL.ReEnc-DeeJayAhmed-eng(2)

Previously on Hannibal...

Layers and layers of lies

betrayed by a sad glint
in a childs eyes.

How did you feel
seeing Marissa shore,

- impaled in his antler room?
- Guilty.

Because you couldn't save her?

Because I felt like I killed her.

Our friend Will

seems haunted today.

We don't know what nightmares
lie coiled

- beneath Will's pillow.
- 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.

- Children transport us to our childhoods.
- What do you see will?

Will may feel the tug of life, before
the FBI, before you.

He needs an anchor, Jack.

Where you going?

I wanna go home.

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You lost?

Uh, what?

What's your name?

Will Graham.

Do you know where
you are, Mr. Graham?

No.

Where do you live?

Wolf Trap, Virginia.

We're in Wolf Trap, so that's
good. You're close to home.

Is that yours?

Aw, hi, Winston.

Hey...

uh, can I sit down?
My feet are sore.

Why don't we take you home?

Are you on any drugs?
Medication?

Prescription or otherwise? No.

You been drinkin'?

No. Uh, yes. Not excessively.

I had two fingers of whiskey
before I went to bed.

You have a history
of sleepwalking, Mr. Graham?

I'm not even sure
if I'm awake now.

Although I may be, is it safe

to assume you're not sleepwalking now?
I'm sorry it's so early.

Never apologize
for coming to me.

Office hours are for patients. My
kitchen is always open to friends.

Onset of sleepwalking
in adulthood

is less common than in children.
Could it be a seizure?

I'd argue good old-fashioned
post-traumatic stress.

Jack Crawford has gotten
your hands very dirty.

- I wasn't forced back into the field.
- I wouldn't say "forced".

"Manipulated" would be
the word I'd choose.

I can handle it.

Somewhere between
denying horrible events

and calling them out lies the
truth of psychological trauma.

So I can't handle it.

Your experience may have
overwhelmed ordinary functions

that give you
a sense of control.

If my body is walking around
without my permission,

you'd say that's
a loss of control?

Wouldn't you?

Sleepwalkers demonstrate
a difficulty

handling aggression.
Are you experiencing

difficulty with
aggressive feelings?

You said Jack sees me
as fine china

used for special guests.

I'm beginning to feel
more like an old mug.

You entered into a
devil's bargain

with Jack Crawford.
It takes a toll.

Jack isn't the devil.

When it comes to how
far he's willing

to push you to get
what he wants,

he's certainly no Saint.

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1x05
Coquilles

Room was registered to a John Smith.
Heh, big surprise there.

An appalling failure
of imagination.

They paid cash.
There are no security cameras

on the premises...
another big surprise.

- John Smith one of the victims?
- Mr. and Mrs. Anderson,

according to the register.
They were mutilated and displayed.

I thought it might be
The Chesapeake Ripper,

but there were no
surgical trophies taken.

I'm gonna need you to prepare
yourself on this one. I'm prepared.

Prepare yourself some more.
It's soup in there.

- Soup isn't good for the soul.
- Not this kind.

Alright, look, there are no
jurisdictional rivalries here.

The local police begged us
to take this. Where's your head?

It's on my pillow.
I didn't sleep.

Got just the thing
to wake you up.

Ok, I'm awake.

Hooks were bored
into the ceiling.

Fishing line was used

to hold up the bodies
and... the wings.

- At least we know he's a fisherman.
- And/or a viking.

Vikings do this?

Vikings used to execute christians
by breaking their ribs,

bending them back, and
draping the lungs over them

to resemble wings.
They used to call it

a "blood eagle." Pagans
mocking the Godfearing.

- Then who's mocking who?
- No, he isn't mocking them.

He's transforming them.
I don't know if it was

a good night's sleep,
but he slept here.

Hair on the pillow and
the sheets are still damp.

He's a sweater.

Madness slept here last night.

He threw up on the nightstand.

Couldn't stomach what he did.

Flop sweat and
nervous indigestion.

Not nervous.

Righteous.

Thinks he's...
Elevating them somehow.

I need a plastic sheet
for the bed.

This is not who you are.

This is my gift to you.

I allow you to become angels.

And now,

I lay me down to sleep.

A masterpiece
foie gras au torchon

with a late harvest

of vidal sauce...

With dried and fresh figs.

Wonderful.

Mrs. Crawford, your husband

introduced you as Bella. Are you
an Isabelle or an Annabelle?

I'm a Phyllis.

Jack only calls me Phyllis
when we disagree.

So, named Bella
for your beauty.

We were both stationed in Italy.
I was army, she was NATO staff.

All of the Italian men
kept calling her

"Bella, Bella, Bella."

Well, I wanted her
to be my Bella.

Mm. Cold foie gras

- with warm figs.
- Yes.

Very nice.

Would I be a horrible guest
if I skipped this course?

- Too rich?
- Too cruel.

Phyllis.

- Jack.
- First and worst sign

of sociopathic behavior:
Cruelty to animals.

That doesn't apply
in the kitchen.

I have no taste
for animal cruelty,

which is why I employ
an ethical butcher.

An ethical butcher? Be kind
to animals and then eat them?

I'm afraid I insist on it.

No need for unnecessary
suffering.

Human emotions are a gift
from our animal ancestors.

Cruelty is a gift

humanity has given itself.

The gift that keeps on giving.

Your perfume is exquisite.

Similar to the aroma on the earth
just after lightning strikes.

Is it jar?

That is some nose
you have there, doctor.

He really is quite
charming, isn't he?

I first noticed
my keen sense of smell

when I was a young man.

I was aware one of my teachers
had stomach cancer

- even before he was.
- Hm.

Wow, that must have been
some parlor trick.

For our next course,

roasted pork shank.
And I assure you, Bella,

it was an especially
supercilious pig.

"Death makes angels
of us all and gives us wings

where we had shoulders
smooth as raven's claws."

- Robert Frost.
- Jim Morrison.

Even a drunk with
a flair for the dramatic

can convince himself he's God.
Or the lizard king.

God makes angels. Jesus was
fond of fishermen.

Are we talking hardcore
Judeo-Christian

upsetting, or just
upsetting in general?

This is a very
specific upsetting.

Increased serotonin
in the wounds

is much higher than
the free histamines, so, uh,

she lived for about 15 minutes
after she was skinned.

Powder residue on
the neck of the soda bottle

shows Vecuronium...

scotch and soda
and a paralytic agent.

Kneeling in supplication
at the feet of g-dash-d.

Supplication is the most
common form of prayer.

Gimme, gimme, gimme.

They weren't praying to him.

They were praying for him.

He's afraid.

What is somebody who
could do something like this

afraid of?

- What's in his vomit?
- Uh, Dexamethasone...

That's used for patients
with tumors.

Kepra... He's epileptic.
Radiation?

- Gamma four.
- Steroids for the inflammation,

anticonvulsants for the seizures,
radiation for the chemotherapy.

Our guy has a brain tumor.

He's afraid of dying
in his sleep.

He's making angels
to watch over him.

Mrs. Crawford.

Please come in.

How often do you see him?

Twice a week at first.

Now usually just once.

You're satisfied, then?

Enough to keep seeing him.

Your intention is
not to tell Jack.

I don't see what good
it would do.

Jack sees the world
at its worst.

Don't need him
seeing me at mine.

He already has
too much to worry about.

He has room for one more worry.

I feel like
you're protecting him.

I am. I've had dinner

at your home.

You have a professional
relationship with my husband.

There's no conflict of interest,
me being here?

It's unorthodox,

but not unheard of.

Given the nature of your problem,
seeing someone who knows Jack

removes some of the guesswork.

This all started
as some misguided stab

at maintaining my dignity.

Nothing undignified about this.

Not yet.

But I have indignity

to look forward to, don't I?

The only indignity
I see is resentment.

Why do you resent your husband?

I resent that Jack...

Has too much to worry about

to worry about me.

But that's your choice.

Not his.

Then maybe you should see us
both for couples counseling.

I would recommend another
psychiatrist for couples.

I wouldn't want you to have
the home-couch advantage.

It's hard enough

dealing with how I feel
about all of this.

Don't need to deal with
how Jack feels about it.

There is no one and only
spiritual center of the brain.

Any idea of God comes from many
different areas of the mind

working together in unison.

Maybe I was wrong.

How do you profile
someone who has

an anomaly in their head
changing the way they think?

A tumor can definitely
affect brain function,

even cause vivid hallucinations.
However, what appears

to be driving your angel maker
to create heaven on earth

is a simple issue of mortality.
Can't beat God, become him?

You said he was afraid.

He feels abandoned.

Ever feel abandoned, Will?

Abandonment requires
expectation.

What were your expectations

of Jack Crawford and the FBI?

Jack hasn't abandoned me.

Not in any discernible way.

Perhaps in the way gods
abandon their creations.

You say he hasn't abandoned you,
but at the same time you

find yourself wandering around
Wolf Trap in the middle of the night.

Well...
This should be interesting.

Please, doctor, proceed.

Jack gave you his word
he would protect your headspace,

yet he leaves you
to your mental devices.

Are you trying to alienate me
from Jack Crawford?

I'm trying to help you
understand this angel maker

you seek.
Well, help me understand

how to catch him.
If he were a classic paranoid

schizophrenic, you might be able
to influence him

to become visible. What, scare
him out into the daylight?

Might even get him
to hurt himself,

if he hasn't already.
If he were selfdestructive,

he-he-he wouldn't be so careful.

Unless he's careful
about being self-destructive,

making angels to pray over him
when he sleeps.

Who prays over us when we sleep?

So, do you wait until you think I'm
asleep before you come to bed?

It's not intentional.

I'm working late.

Nothing personal.

So can we have a
conversation, or do you

want to pretend that
everything's alright?

Everything is alright.

So no conversation.

I'm a bit overwhelmed
at the moment.

- With?
- With things at work...

Etcetera.

I've got some things
I have to sort through.

It's, uh, outside
your jurisdiction, Jack.

You know something...

I'm very good
at sorting things out,

and at the very least
I can underwhelm you

while you're being overwhelmed.
You've

never been able
to underwhelm me.

Is there anything I can
offer you romantically

or physically or
spiritually that'll help?

Nope.

So as your husband,
what I can do for you is, um,

leave you alone and not ask you
any questions.

You can ask me anything
you want to.

I won't insult you by asking
if there's someone else.

Thank you.

You'll sort out
whatever it is you have

to sort out, we'll get
back to being us.

I love you, Bella.

I love you too.

Why angels?

Well, it isn't biblical.
His angels have wings.

Um, angels in sculptures and paintings
can fly, but not in scripture.

He's drawing
from secular sources?

His mind has turned against him
and there's no one there to help.

Uh, Jack... look at this.

Are those... What are those?

Somebody got an orchiectomy
real cheap.

- Doesn't look like the victim.
- So they're the angel maker's?

- He castrated himself?
- So he isn't just

making angels; He's getting
ready to become one.

Angels don't have genitalia.

So he was afraid of dying. Now he's,
what, getting used to the idea?

He's accepting it
or he's bargaining.

- Heh, bargaining chips!
- So, does this mean that

he's done making angels,
or is he just getting started?

- I don't know.
- Well, he's not just

killing them when he's sleepy.
I mean, how is he choosing them?

- I don't know. Ask him.
- I'm asking you.

You're the head of the
behavioral science unit, Jack.

Why don't you come up with your own
answers if you don't like mine?

I did not hear that!

Did I?

Um...

No, you didn't.

I'm sorry.

I've never heard anybody talk to
Jack the way you talked to Jack.

- I was out of line.
- You were out of your mind.

My ears rang like the first time
I heard my mom use the f-word.

You ok?

I know it's a stupid question
considering that none of us

could possibly be ok doing what
we do, but... are you ok?

Do I seem different?

You're a little different,

but you've always been
a little different.

Brilliant strategy...

that way no one ever knows
if something's up with you.

How would I know if something
was up with you?

You wouldn't.

But I would tell you if you
asked me. Return the favor?

Meet Roger and Marilyn Brunner.

You might recognize them
from such lists as most wanted.

He likes to rape and murder,
she likes to watch.

We got a DNA match.
They falsified

the motel registry
and were driving a stolen car,

so it took a second
to identify them.

I wonder how long it took
Angel Maker to identify them.

He didn't choose them randomly.
He knows something about them.

The murdered security guard
wasn't actually a security guard.

He was a convicted felon.

Could Angel Maker be
a vigilante?

Well, vigilantes are
pragmatic, they're purposeful;

They don't lay down and sleep
under their crimes.

In his mind, he was doing God's work.
That spells vigilante.

Well, playing at God has
other advantages. One of them...

Is always being alone. So he
makes angels out of demons.

How does he know
they're demons?

He doesn't have to know.

All he has to do is believe.

Has Jack begun to suspect?

He's a behavioral specialist.
He must know

you are keeping something
from him.

Oh, he knows. He asked me
if I was having an affair...

by reassuring me
that he didn't have to ask.

I doubt he believes
you're unfaithful.

And why do you doubt that?

It's clear you love
your husband.

Women who love their husbands still
find reasons to cheat on them.

Not you.

Still, you seem more betrayed
by Jack than by your own body.

I don't feel betrayed by Jack.

And there's no point in being
mad at cancer for being cancer.

Sure there is.

Cancer isn't cruel.

Tiny cell wanders off
from my liver, gets lost,

finds its way into my lung,

where it's just trying
to do its job and...

Grow a liver.

What it grows and where it's
growing it will likely kill you.

Not likely.

It will kill me,

and no amount of blueberries or
antioxidants can change that now.

But you hold Jack accountable for
his inability to cure cancer.

Should I have said
his inability to save you?

Would that be more accurate?
I am slowly shrinking,

while this tiny thing grows
larger every day.

And yet I feel fine.

You will feel fine...

up until the precise moment
you don't.

It's a... really very
dull story, though, isn't it?

The ending is always the same,
and that same is that it ends.

So, you withdraw

from your relationship
with your husband,

the man who strolled along
the quays of Livorno, Italy,

and called you Bella.

It's difficult to lie still
and fear going to sleep.

What is there to think about?

You listen to your breathing
in the dark

and the tiny clicks
of your blinking eyes.

I dream more now
than I used to.

Well, your dreams were
the one place you could be

physically safe, relinquishing
control. Not anymore.

Yeah, I thought about zipping
myself up into a sleeping bag

before I go to sleep,
but it, heh,

sounds like a poor man's
straightjacket.

Have you determined how this angel
maker is choosing his victims?

Well, he doesn't see people
how everyone else sees them.

He can tell if you're naughty
or nice,

or he thinks he can.

So God has given this person
insight into the souls of men.

God didn't give him insight;
God gave him a tumor.

He's just a man whose brain is
playing tricks on him.

You are not unlike this killer.

My brain is playing tricks
on me?

You want to feel such sweet
and easy peace.

The angel maker wants
that same peace.

He hopes to feel his way
cautiously inside and then find

it's endless, all around him.

He's gonna be disappointed.

You accept the impossibility
of such a feeling,

whereas the angel maker is
still chasing it.

If he got close to it,
that's why he will

look for it again. I've
tried to reconstruct

his thinking, find his patterns.

Instead you find yourself in a
behavior pattern you can't break.

You realize you have a choice.

What is it?

Angel Maker will be destroyed by
what's happening inside his head;

You don't have to be.

Did you just smell me?

Difficult to avoid.

I really must introduce you
to a finer aftershave.

That smells like something
with a ship on the bottle.

Well, I keep getting it
for Christmas.

Have your headaches been
any worse lately? More frequent?

Yes, actually.

I'd change the aftershave.

Elliot Budish: 35-year-old
truck driver.

He's got a fishing license too.
Uh, match

came from the national
cancer database.

Married, two kids... they haven't
seen him in four months.

He was diagnosed
five months ago.

Meet the angel maker.

Have you heard from him
since he left?

I left him.

And, uh, no, no,

I haven't.

Why did you leave?

Because of his cancer.

It makes me sound
like a horrible wife.

I'm sure you had your reasons.

I took a leave from work
to, uh, to be with him.

I wanted to be there for him.

But what he wanted was
to be alone.

He just kept pulling away

and pulling away.

He made it clear
he didn't want me there.

And then it wasn't clear.

And then it didn't matter why
he was acting the way he was.

It was weird

for the kids. I mean,

what kind of mother exposes
her children to someone

who is losing their mind?

Was he ever violent,
Mrs. Budish?

He was angry.

But he never

hit me or the boys.
It was hardest on them.

To see him slip away.
He lost himself.

And they lost a father.

I thought that
as he got weaker,

as the cancer got worse,
that it would be less confusing

for them.
They could just see him

as a sick man

instead of someone
who was so terrified.

And, uh, did your husband's
faith falter

after he was told
about the cancer?

Elliot wasn't ever religious.

Is he doing something religious?
He may believe he is.

Your husband is dying,

Mrs. Budish, and soon.

We'd just like

to... we'd like to find him before
he hurts himself or anyone else.

He... had a near-death
experience

he suffocated in a fire
when he was a little boy.

Fireman said he must've had
a guardian angel.

Where did this happen?

Um... a farm...

Where he grew up.

- This'll be the last one.
- It's Budish?

He made himself into an angel.

It wasn't God, it wasn't man.
It was his choice to die.

- His choice?
- As much as he can make it.

I don't know how much longer I can
be all that useful to you, Jack.

Really? You caught three.
The last three we had,

you caught.
You caught three of them.

No, I didn't catch this one.
Elliot Budish... surrendered.

You know, I'm used to my wife
not talking to me.

I don't have to get used to you
not talking to me too.

It's getting harder and harder
to make myself look.

Well, nobody's asking you
to look alone.

But I am looking alone.

And you know what
looking at this does.

I know what happens
if you don't look,

and so do you. I can
make myself look,

but the thinking
is shutting down.

- What is it about this one?
- It isn't this one.

It's all of them. It's
the next one, it's

the one that I know
is coming after that.

You wanna go back
to your lecture hall?

- Read about this stuff on tattlecrime.com?
- No, I don't.

But that may be what I have
to do. This is bad for me.

I'm not your father, Will.

I'm not gonna tell you
what you ought to do.

Seems like that's exactly
what you're gonna do.

You go back to your classroom.

When there's killing going on
that you could've prevented,

it will sour your classroom
forever.

Maybe. And then maybe
I'll find a job

as a diesel mechanic
in a boatyard.

You wanna quit?

Quit.

I see what you are.

What do you see?

Inside.

I can bring it out of you.

Not all the way out.

I can give you... The majesty

of true becoming.

Hello, doctor.

My wife and I need to talk.

May we use your waiting room? You
can have the office. Please.

Thank you.

Just popping in

on official business,
or did you follow me?

I called your office.
They said you were

at an appointment.
I figured you'd be here.

You know.

I knew you'd find out.

When did you find out?

Twelve weeks ago.

Twelve weeks ago?

Lung cancer.

You don't smoke.

The irony.

Is it treatable?

It's stage four.

And we know there's
no stage five, don't we?

When were you gonna tell me?

Far enough into the
future that I'm really

not prepared to have
this conversation

- right now.
- Neither am I,

but we're having it.
We're having it right now.

Were you just going to wait

until you were in the middle
of chemotherapy?

When you couldn't hide it
anymore?

I don't think I want
to do chemotherapy.

Well, do I have any say

- in this?
- No.

No, you don't.

Do you want to be alone?

I don't want you
to answer that.

Just think about your answer.

I want you to know
that I don't want

you to be alone, not
now and not ever.

We'll beat this together?

No, it's your fight, baby,
but I'm in your corner.

I'm not going anywhere.

I appreciate that, Jack.

I do.

But I'm not comforted by it.

I know that's what you need
and, and...

you need to comfort me.

But I can't give you
what you need.

Don't worry about what I need.

Why wouldn't you tell me?

I thought if I kept it to myself,
our lives wouldn't change.

I didn't count on changing
as much as I did.

What do you want, Will?

I'm gonna sit here
until you're ready to talk.

You don't have to say a word
until you're ready, but...

I'm not going anywhere
until you do.

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