Hannibal (2013–2015): Season 1, Episode 5 - Coquilles - full transcript

'Previously on "Hannibal"...'

"Layers and layers of lies betrayed
by a sad glint in a child's eyes."

How did you feel like seeing Marissa
Schurr 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 are you going?
- I wanna go home.

You lost?

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?

Oh, hi, Winston. Hey...



Can I sit down? My feet are sore.

- Why don't we take you home?
- OK.

Are you on any drugs? Medication?

- Prescription or otherwise?
- No.

- You been drinking?
- No.

Uh, yes. Not excessively.

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

Do 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?

- 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.

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 was the Chesapeake Ripper,
but there were no surgical trophies taken.

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

- Prepare yourself more. It's soup in there.
- Soup isn't good for the soul.

Not this kind. All right, 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 God-fearing?
- 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.

He 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.

Mmm...

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
behaviour: cruelty to animals.

Oh, 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 air
just after lightning strikes.

Is it Dior?

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.

Wow, that must've been
some parlour 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 in the free histamines,

so 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 tumours.

- Kepra...
- He's epileptic.

- Radiation?
- Gamma four.

Steroids for the inflammation,
anticonvulsants for the seizures,

radiation for the chemotherapy.
Our guy has a brain tumour.

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,
I 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.

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

There is no one and only
spiritual centre 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 tumour 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 self-destructive,
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.

Can we have a conversation or do you
wanna pretend that everything's all right?

Everything is all right.

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.

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.

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 getting used to the idea?

He's accepting it
or he's bargaining.

Heh! Bargaining chips!

Is he done making angels,
or is he just getting started?

I don't know.

He's not just killing them when
he's sleepy. How's he choosing them?

- I don't know, ask him.
- I'm asking you.

You're the head
of the behavioural science unit.

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

I did not hear that!

Did I?

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 mum use the f-word.

Are 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 favour?

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.

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 behavioural specialist,

he must know you're 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 when it's 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.

Your dreams were the one place
you could be physically safe,

relinquishing control, not anymore.

I thought about zipping myself up into
a sleeping bag before I go to sleep but...

It sounds like
a poor man's straightjacket.

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

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 tumour.

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

- You're 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 it

and 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 where
he will look for it again.

I've tried to reconstruct his thinking,
find his patterns.

Instead you find yourself in
a behaviour 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.

I keep getting it for Christmas.

Have your headaches been
any worse lately? More frequent?

Yes, actually.

I'd change the aftershave.

Elliot Buddish, 35-year-old truck driver.

He's got a fishing license too. 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's losing their mind?

Was he ever violent, Mrs. Buddish?

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.

That 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. Buddish,
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 Buddish?

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 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 Buddish... 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.

- 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.

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
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 your 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?

- 12 weeks ago.
- 12 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.

- 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...

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.