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The doctors--the other doctors, apparently he was one--said it would take at least a year for him to remember himself. Luckily it was only partial; he remembered other people, he remembered his name and where he lived and a few basics of his personality. It was just his history and his daily life that was gone. Indeed, it had only taken three days for them to let him go, and now he was making himself lunch for the first time he could remember.
He took an apple out of the fridge and thought about it. It wasn't quite fresh anymore, but this was just a light snack while he worked so it would do. Now then, what was in the freezer?
He opened it and stopped. Because apparently the answer was a severed head. Why would he have a human head in his freezer? Hadn't this morning's newspaper mentioned a man with his head missing?
Serial killers are known to become interested in the investigations Sometimes even involved in them. Oh, yes. That was why. Made perfect sense, really.
It was at about that point that he threw up.
"Thank you for coming so quickly, Will. I'm afraid that I really need your help."
"Of course, Hannibal, you're a friend. What's wrong?"
"Just come and see for yourself."
And Will saw.
". . . please tell me that isn't what I think it is."
"I'm pretty sure. I haven't brought myself to touch it yet, but I know what the real thing looks like and it looks like that."
Will gave him a sickly look. "I don't think there's precident for this. Certainly not at anything like this scale. Shit, Han, we--um, Han?"
Hannibal was standing very still, staring down at the cleaver suddenly in his hand. "Ah, Will? It may be best if you restrain from swearing. That appears to be a trigger."
"No fu--er, no kidding." Will swallowed hard. "Don't worry, it's not your fault. Pavlov's dogs, remember?"
Hannibal looked at him queasily. "Could you not put it like that? Because every time I look at that thing I start salivating."
"You start what? Why?"
"I've been told I'm a good cook. There is a human head in my freezer. I am trying not to think about recipies that involve tongue and realizing that I know far too many of them. How much do you want to bet that's a coincidence?"
"Nothing, sucker's bet," Will replied automatically, then froze. "You think you ate them?"
"No, I think we ate them." Hannibal slumped into the nearest chair. "Ask me how often and I'll say the first thing that comes to mind."
"Free association? Alright." Will winced, but continued. "How many of the meals I ate with you were human?"
"All of them."
They stared at each other for a moment.
"Oh Lord." Will made a choked noise in his throat. "We'd better go get Jack."
"So we have a serial killer with amnesia. That's going to go down well."
Hannibal closed his eyes and groaned. "Please, no food metaphors."
Will nodded. "We're pretty sure all his fancy dinners were cannibal feasts, so yeah. And don't starts swearing, that's a trigger."
"Swearing is a trigger? Then how the--how is anyone in this whole town still alive?"
Hannibal smiled weakly. "I'm fairly sure that I had iron self-control. Or steel. Possibly diamond, because on the way here I wanted to kill someone about ten times."
Will looked caught between wanting to hug his friend and run screaming from the room. "Oh Hannibal."
"We'll have to have him look at the scenes, see if he remembers anything."
A moment later there was a scalpel hidden in Hannibal's hand. He had no idea how it had gotten there, but it felt so right in his hand and it would feel so good when the idiot bled out onto that hand--no! "If I remember then you will have a quite prolific serial killer who knows you know standing less than three feet from you, you fool!"
"He's got a point, Jack."
"A couple of them, in fact." He took the blade out of his pocket with slightly-trembling fingers. "It appears that I carry a knife with me at all times.
"This is a surgical scalpel, isn't it?" he continued. "Probably one I've used before."
"You were going to kill me."
"Of course, you were being stupid . . .oh."
Will facepalmed. "You really must have had self-control up the. Er."
"Something like that, yes." He twirled the scalpel absently. "Really, you should've been giving me awards for it instead of hunting me down. Especially you, Jack, because I found you irritating on sight."
"What? Why?"
"I'm not sure. I just know that as soon as you visited me in the hospital I disliked you, and if I'd had as much of my self back then as I do currently you would probably be missing something right now. Your tongue, I think."
"You didn't like his yelling." Will almost laughed at that. "No more tongue means fewer yells."
"I do believe that is exactly it, Will, thank you."
"No, um, no problem."
". . . I'd have taken your heart."
"I did not want to know that."
"My apologies, but I thought you ought to know. "
"Well, I suppose to a serial killer it might be a sign of friendship."
"It must be, I feel very fond of you." For the first time since his discovery, Hannibal managed to smile. It didn't last long, but it was a start.
"If we don't want him to remember, he'll have to do the opposite of what was suggested by his doctors," said Jack with a sigh. "Can you take him in, Will? try to make sure he keeps stable? I have a sick wife to take care of or I'd do it myself."
Will nodded with a sigh that Jack didn't hear. Hannibal did, though, and whatever beast lived in his heart started to growl. "The doctors said it wouldn't last forever, though. What happens then?"
The three of them just sat there for a moment, each thinking the same hopeless thought. By the time you remember fully, you'll probably be insane again.