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Sometimes...

at night I Ieave 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.

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?

WIth noise and clarity.

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

I tried so hard to know Gareth Jacob Hobbs.

To see him.

Gareth Jacob Hobbs, FBI!

Past the slides and viles,

beyond the lines of the police report,

between the pixels of all those

printed faces of sad dead girls.

See.

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...

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.

Even after he was dead?

Even after he was dead.

Like...

you were becoming him.

I know who I am.

I'm not Gareth Jacob Hobbs, Doctor Lecter.

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Subtitle made by GeirDM www.addic7ed.com

I can hide what happened to me.

All I need is a scarf to pass.

Hiding what happened to you defeats the purpose of being here.

Sharing will help normalize.

I'm not normal... not anymore.

What happened to you was a...

Some of these women aren't even sharing.

They speak in "little girl voices"

telling everyone what was done to them without saying a word about it.

Certain traumas can arrest vocal development.

And victims can sometimes broadcast victimhood involuntarily.

Not me.

That's not necessarily true.

Your victimhood has a high profile.

celebrity victim.

Someone here asked me if I kept my stained clothes.

How did that make you feel?

Like I wanted to go home.

But I don't have a home anymore, do I?

You will. You will, I'll help you find it.

Abigail I'd like you to give the support group another chance.

Supportgroups are sucking the life out of me.

Well isolation can suck just as much.

You have to find someone to relate to in this experience.

Hi.

- Do you have an appointment? - Do you have a beer?

Interesting day with Abigail?

Yeah, with grief work.

Trauma, intervention.

It's all on course.

I think she might be wrestling with a low grade depression.

She?

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.

Perhaps it's time Abigail is released from clinical treatment.

Released where?

Back into the wild?

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.

Abigail is in no condition to tackle her real world issues.

- Where's she gonna live? - I'm not suggesting abandonment.

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 need to figure things out for herself in a safe

clinical environment.

And that will give her the confidence to move forward.

I defer to the passion of my esteemed colleague.

Passion's good.

Gets blood pumping.

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- Tell me about your mother. - Some lazy psychiatry Doctor Lecter.

Low hanging fruit.

I suspect that fruit is on a high branch.

- Very difficult to reach. - So is my mother.

- Never knew her. - An interesting place to start.

Tell me about your mother, let's start there.

Both my parents died when I was very young.

The proverbial orphan until I was adopted by my uncle Robertos when I was 16.

You have orphan in common with Abigail Hobbs.

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.

There's something so foreign about family,

like an ill fitting suit.

I never connected to the concept.

I followed my father from the boatyards of

Biloxi and Greenville, to lakeboats on Eerie.

Always the new boy at school, always the stranger.

Always.

You created a family for yourself.

I've only connected a family of strays,

and thank you for feeding them while I was away.

I was refering to Abigail.

A modified Budeaux Noir from Ali Bab's Gatronomie Practique.

You promised to deliver your wife to my dinner table.

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? - Rabbit.

- He should have hopped faster. - Yes he should have.

- But fortunately for us he did not. - Mmm mmm.

Our friend Will seems haunted today.

We don't know what nightmares lie coiled beneath Will's pillow.

He still suspects Abigail Hobbs in her father's crimes.

Perhaps the nightmare under Will's pillow,

is that he was wrong about her.

Children tranport 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 anker streamed behind him in heavy weather.

He needs an anker Jack.

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Good evening Will, please come in.

Has christmas come early? Or late?

- Was for Abigail. - Was?

I thought better of it, I wasn't thinking straight, I was upset when I bought it.

Maybe still am.

- What is it? - A magnifying glass.

Fly tying gear.

Teaching her how to fish,

- her father taught her how to hunt. - That's why I thought better of it.

- Pretty paternal Will. - Aren't you?

Yes.

Our good friend Doctor Bloom has advised against taking

to personal an interest in Abigail's welfare.

And perhaps it's our responsibility

yours and mine to help her find her way.

I don't think I'm allowed to leave, after I climb the fence.

I've made arrangements.

you could say I'm, one of your guardians.

- Where are we going? - Home, my home.

I thought you might enjoy if I cooked for you.

- I'll have you back before bedtime. - Can't I spend the night?

I don't like sleeping here, I have bad dreams.

- You have to sleep in your own bed. - This isn't my bed.

Tell me about your bad dreams.

I had one where

Marissa was sending me picture texts.

Like crimescene photos of Nicholas Boyle.

- Gutted. - How you left him.

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.

You don't have that luxury Abigail.

I just have to get used to lying.

You only have to lie about one thing.

And when you're with me you don't have to lie about anything.

In the dream I wonder how I could live with myself.

Knowing what I did.

And when you're awake?

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? - No.

It makes you a survivor.

Subtitle made by GeirDM www.addic7ed.com

Subtitle made by GeirDM www.addic7ed.com

It's important to know when it's time to turn the page.

Have you thought about applying for schools?

My dad killed girls from all the schools I applied to.

- Perhaps that can wait then. - I wanna work for the FBI.

I would certainly feel safer if you were in the FBI,

protecting my interests.

They wouldn't let me though, would they?

Because of what my dad did.

Only if they believe that's in your nature too.

Nature versus nurture.

You're not your father's daughter, not anymore.

What if it weren't so painful anymore, to think of him.

- My dad? - Yes.

Have you ever tried Psilocybin?

- Mushrooms? That's what's in the tea? - Yes.

There are those psychiatrists who believe altered states could be used

to access traumatic memories.

I have all the access to traumatic memories I need.

Unlimited access.

Which is why we need to supplement them with positive associations.

No more bad dreams Abigail.

- You want me to do drugs? - I want you to do this drug.

With my supervision it's quite safe.

Do you trust me?

Just like we talked about.

Doctor Bloom said this was ok.

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

- More secrets for us. - 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.

I don't feel so good.

That feeling will pass.

Allow it to wash over you, through you.

Let me be your guide.

You're making breakfast for dinner?

*** for eggs.

A chef in Spain called Muro claimed he invented it in the 19th century.

Taste, is not only biochemical... it's also psychological.

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

I know. It's also the first meal you're having with me.

Subtitle made by GeirDM www.addic7ed.com

Subtitle made by GeirDM www.addic7ed.com

As someone who makes such a deal about common courtesy

I'm a little taken a back.

Slash a lot taken a back, 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.

I'm sorry.

Rude! Hannibal shockingly rude!

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

- Where is she? - She's in the dining room.

And Alana... you were right.

Often am. You have to be more specific.

She wasn't ready to leave the hospital,

she... experienced a bit of anxiety so I gave her a sedative.

- Sedative what did you give her? - I only gave her half a Valium

but she may be a little hazy.

- Hi Doctor Bloom. - Hello Abigail.

You were expecting me?

Please.

You hungry?

Hannibal made breakfast for dinner.

I could eat.

What is it?

Abigail.

What do you see?

I see family.

Hello.

Think it's to late for us to have kids?

It is for me.

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