Previously on Hannibal...

I'm giving my life to death.

And now Death has followed you home.

I don't think I wanna do chemotherapy.

Do I have any say in this?

No.

I'm devoting a lot of time to this mural, Will. I could use your help.

What was the cause of death in the bailiff's murder? - Bullets.

And in Will Graham's victims?

Mutilation.

There are clearly two different killers and two different cases.

Will claims someone else committed the crimes he's accused of.

He said that person was you.

Perhaps he was half right.

Wrap the leader around the tippet. Four, five, six times.

Tuck the end between the lines.

Tighten.

And... trim.

It's called a blood knot.

Your father taught you how to hunt.

I'm going to teach you how to fish.

Same thing, isn't it?

One you stalk, the other you re?

One you catch, the other you shoot.

What are you trying to catch?

The one who caught you.

The one that got away.

Catch a fish once and it gets away, it's a lot harder to catch again.

(chuckling)

Everybody thinks you're lying about the one that got away.

That's why I have to catch him.

Last thing before casting a line:

name the bait on your hook after somebody you cherished.

To say goodbye?

If the person you name it after cherished you, as the superstition goes, you will catch the fish.

Oh.

And what did you name it?

Abigail.

(creaking sound)

You were right. Killer was in the mural.

Just where you said he'd be. His name was James Gray.

We found his vehicle outside the farm.

Enough DNA on the bed of his truck for us to be confident he's the Muralist. - You found as much evidence on him as you did on me.

I'm glad you said it.

Who stitched him into the mural?

We don't know. He may have had a partner.

Another killer. Maybe they had a suicide pact.

There was no partner.

This artist worked alone until he was stitched into his own creation.

No signs of a struggle.

No.

So, this second killer, whoever he is, understood the Muralist well enough not just to find his canvas, but well enough to convince him to be part of it.

You have an idea who that might be?

I do.

Don't say, "Hannibal Lecter."

I'm saying Hannibal Lecter.

Didn't you stop ringing that bell?

I'm not asking you to believe anything you can't prove. I'm just asking you to prove it.

Hannibal Lecter has no reason-

That is exactly right.

He has no discernible reason other than his own amusement and curiosity.

That's hard to prove.

There will be a very clever detail to find on James Gray.

He wouldn't be able to resist it. Probably something that was overlooked. Something hidden.

I'll look for clever details.

But I'm not looking for Hannibal.

Just as long as you're looking.

You look out there.

I'll look in here.

(bee buzzing)

(buzzing)

I'll give you the same deal I gave Beverly Katz.

I know you know what it is.

You've been recording our conversations.

Or are we pretending you didn't?

What "this" are you offering in exchange for my "that"?

I'm quite the topic of conversation in psychiatric circles.

(chuckling)

I shared my diagnosis of you on the witness stand.

Your personality disorders, neuroses-- all forgeries.

Even if that were true, I'd still be a psychopath of some interest.

Mm.

Quite a manipulative one at that.

Poor, confused, wounded bird for Agent Crawford and Doctors Lecter and Bloom.

And for me, well, I get the psychopath's triumvirate: charm, focus, and ruthlessness.

The charm being debateable, of course.

So, either I'm a psychopath or I am delusional.

Or I'm right about Hannibal Lecter. Aren't you curious which one it is?

Will you allow me to test you?

Test me?

I'll take 'em all.

You will be the first and last word in the mind of Will Graham. God, you could dine out on that for years.

What about Dr. Lecter?

Shouldn't you be my one and only psychiatrist, Dr. Chilton?

Ideally.

Well then, as to your "that"

for my "this."

Do not discuss me or my therapy with Hannibal Lecter.

Tell him that you've decided I am no longer any of his business.

I am now under your exclusive care.

Lazarus had it good.

My social circle doesn't include a friend with power over death.

I suppose I should've embraced Facebook while I had the chance.

(chuckling)

I never should have let Jack talk me into taking chemo.

He's trying to extend your life.

He's trying to extend a quality of life that's not worth the effort.

Jack's efforts or yours?

I'm vomiting my stomach lining.

On a good day, I sleep fifteen to eighteen hours.

On a bad day, I don't sleep.

My best-case scenario is prolonged pain management.

Jack will help you manage.

He loves you, Bella.

When you are gone, he will feel your silence like a draft.

My silence is inevitable.

The war is over.

The cancer is an occupying force.

I want to surrender.

While I still have my dignity.

You are considering ending your life?

Suicide seems like a valid solution to my problem.

How does that make you feel?

Alive.

How does it make you feel?

I've always found the idea of death comforting.

The thought that my life could end at any moment frees me to fully appreciate the beauty, and art, and horror of everything this world has to offer.

A death benefit?

Upon taking his own life, Socrates offered a rooster to the god of healing, Asclepius, to pay his debt.

What debt might that be?

To Socrates, death was not a defeat... but a cure.

Gentlemen...

Local police were supposed to exterminate the bees so we could work the crime scene. Apparently, someone shut that down.

I did. - He did.

Jimmy?

Well, I love bees.

Did you know that the drone is nature's most talented suicidal swordsman?

When the drone mates with the queen, his ejaculation is so explosive, it's audible to the human ear.

All right.

How long has he been out here?

Ah, from de-comp, I'd estimate two weeks.

Which makes sense with how much honey is being produced.

Do bees naturally hive in human carcasses like this?

No. The victim was purposely repurposed as a human apiary.

Purposely.

Somebody removed the eyes and part of the brain to make room for the hive.

Zeller's out in the field, otherwise I'd ask him to help me with this.

I was a surgeon and a doctor, yes. Have you found any evidence on the Muralist's friend?

That's what I need your help with. Might not have been a friend.

Might not have even been an acquaintance.

Whoever killed him, understood him.

So often you open your mouth and I hear Will Graham's words come out.

I have an arrangement with Will.

He's agreed to consult with me on cases, if I keep investigating the murders he's accused of.

I'm happy to hear that.

Will needs a champion now more than ever.

He has you, doesn't he?

You think there's a chance he could be innocent. I know you do.

I believe there is a possibility.

I'm just relieved he's not saying the killer is you anymore.

At least not to me.

Who does Will believe killed the Muralist?

Doesn't know.

He thinks if James Gray's killer hid him in the mural, he may have hid something else.

A signature?

What kind of killer seeks to depict the unconscious, instinctual striving of his victim by sewing him into a human mural?

It wasn't just for appearances.

You have to get to the truth beneath the appearances.

Only by going deep beneath the skin will you understand the nature of this killer's pathology.

Before I start asking you questions, I need some confidence that you will be telling the truth when you answer.

What's this?

A consent form. You're agreeing to a narcoanalytic interview. You. Me.

And our old friend, sodium amytal.

A little something to loosen my tongue?

Something lawfully used in the evaluation of psychotic patients.

What would you use to induce memory loss in a patient, psychotic or otherwise?

The protein synthesis that moves memories from short-term to long-term can be interrupted, but that requires tools and skills.

And a certain level of unorthodoxy.

Does Hannibal Lecter possess those tools and skills?

Dr. Lecter has indicated to me that he is open to the unorthodox when it comes to treating patients.

I wonder how that subject came up...

Sharing stories of the unorthodox.

Sign here.

I want you to draw a clock for me.

(muffled): Did Dr. Lecter administer any drug therapies during your sessions together?

Sedatives...

The strobe causes neurons to fire en masse, like striking many piano keys at once.

The strobe causes neurons to fire en masse, like striking many...

The dissonance might foster a change in your mind.

Is something wrong?

Will...?

He was inducing seizures.

He was encouraging them. The blackouts.

The lost time.

It was strategic. It was planned.

You would only see a seizure response in a brain afflicted with photosensitive epilepsy.

Or afflicted by something just as damaging.

Like encephalitis.

That would suggest a radically unorthodox form of therapy.

Yes, it would.

Doctor Lecter.

I am so embarrassed.

You didn't get my message?

I canceled your appointment with Will Graham.

Is everything all right?

I can explain. Shall we?

Will is at a delicate point in his therapy.

I don't want to confuse him any more than he already is.

Confuse him?

Isn't it your opinion he's an intelligent psychopath?

It was, but my opinion is evolving.

After administering a narcoanalytic interview, therapeutically vital information has come to light.

What sort of information?

What Will Graham suffers from may not be a single condition, but a continuum of illnesses, all with different neurological mechanisms. Some naturally occurring, others appear to have been induced.

Induced?

Induced by whom?

Did you ever use any kind of light stimulation in your treatment?

Light stimulation is a standard tool for neurotherapy.

Evidently, it was overloading his visual cortex.

Creating seizures, time loss, gaps in his memory.

Almost strategically, it seems.

You're suggesting it was intentional?

All our conversations about psychic driving.

You were so curious and eager to hear what I had to say while saying very little yourself.

I had very little to say.

I have been thinking about the possibility that you may have been psychic driving Will Graham all along.

A bold accusation, Frederick.

You are not the only psychiatrist accused of making a patient kill.

We have to stick together.

Last time I did this, this isn't how I did this.

The young man at the dispensary calls this "purple kush."

He says all his cancer patients love its "deep body stone."

(chuckling)

May I?

Do you still get drug tested?

Oh, come on, gimme that thing.

I'm supporting my wife.

I filled out my advadirect.

I added a DNR.

Oh, you are harshing my buzz right now.

I read an article the other day about magnetic hyperthermia.

It's looking promising as a treatment for lung cancer.

Come here.

I know what to expect from lung cancer.

I am my mother's daughter, and I watched her go through exactly what I am going through now.

I know.

Hey... I remember sitting by her bed when she woke up in so much pain that all she could do was scream my name.

I didn't know how to help her.

So I did nothing.

There was nothing you could do.

And there will be a time when there is nothing you can do.

And I don't want you to remember me pleading with you to make the pain go away.

Oh, I'm not going to remember you that way.

First of all, I'm going to remember you walking along the quays of Italy in the sunshine with a trail of signori behind you shouting "bella, bella, bella."

And I'm going to remember that your hands... that they smelled of thyme when you came in from the garden.

And garlic and onions every time you left the kitchen.

(laughing)

I'm going to remember you as beautiful as you are right now.

Well, good.

Good.

Duncan Halloran, fifty-two, divorced, bankrupt.

Reported missing six months ago.

And what do we know about his death?

Considering any post-mortem morphological changes, this guy's white blood cell count was through the roof when he died.

You're telling me his killer was a fever and/or a massive infection?

Lock 'em both up.

No family. No money.

No reason to live. Alive, dead, or dying, who put him under the tree?

It's possible we're dealing with a highly motivated religious individual here.

Explain. - In Hinduism, honey is one of the five elixirs of immortality.

In Christianity, the bee is considered to be an emblem of Christ; his mildness and mercy on one side, his Old Testament justice on the other.

OK. The orbital bone, his sphenoid, um, behind where the eyeballs would usually be, there's tiny punctures. Something long and sharp was pushed in his brain.

Jack, this guy was lobotomized.

How are you feeling today?

Not well.

My arthritis is killing me. I can't take much more of it.

A course of bee venom therapy would soothe the inflammation.

I can barely afford

this treatment.

That's a problem for another day.

Now, you just quiet your mind.

Just live in the present.

You feel that?

No.

Good.

You feel that?

No.

Good.

Feel that?

I can't feel anything.

Good.

Then you won't feel this...

(whimpering)

Mister, you're not supposed to stare at the sun.

It'll hurt your eyes.

Multiple holes in this guy. Over a dozen.

Both eye sockets.

The-the lesions have severed most of the nerve tract in the frontal lobe.

He's covered in bee stings like he got swarmed.

Must be floating in apitoxin, or he doesn't feel a thing.

Yeah, the not feeling anything has got nothing to do with bee stings.

Welcome to the world of the living dead.

There's a pattern.

Hey.

Hey...

Look what the cat's dragged in.

What are you looking at?

(both): A pattern.

See, some of the bee stings triggered an allergic reaction, others didn't.

The inflamed bee stings were all in line with the body's meridian, on acupuncture points.

The bee stings are hiding the needle marks.

What did you say?

Uh, the bee stings are hiding the needle marks?

Stitches are hiding stitches.

Only by going deep beneath the skin will you understand the nature of this killer's pathology.

He took his kidney.

I feel like I'm losing my mind.

Tell me if he's real.

I don't see anyone.

No, he's right there.

There's no one there. We're alone.

You're lying.

You came here alone. Do you remember coming alone?

Please don't lie to me.

Garrett Jacob Hobbs is dead.

You killed him. You watched him die.

What's happening to me?

Will. Will, you're having an episode. I want you to hand me over the gun.

Will, I want you to hand me your...

Will...

He's had a mild seizure.

That... doesn't seem to bother you.

I said it was mild.

Are you the man who claimed to be the Chesapeake Ripper?

Why do you say "claimed"?

Because you're not.

You know you're not and you don't know much more about who you are beyond that.

Are you the Ripper?

A terrible thing, to have your identity taken from you.

Whoever killed James Gray didn't just take his leg.

Sutures hidden beneath the stitching that wove him into the mural. One crime made to look like another.

Like the Copycat.

And... the Chesapeake Ripper.

Now you're saying Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper?

I'm saying also the Chesapeake Ripper.

Um... were the kidneys surgically removed?

Yes.

Dr. Lecter was a surgeon.

I know he was. I asked him to consult on James Gray's autopsy.

You what?

If you invited him with an actual agenda, Hannibal would know it.

He pointed me to the evidence.

He pointed you to an absence of evidence.

He's baiting a hook, Beverly.

He's toying with you. Go to Jack. Tell him everything.

I can't bring this to Jack until I can back it up.

Stay away from Hannibal Lecter.

The Chesapeake Ripper kept surgical trophies.

If Hannibal's the ripper, what's he doing with his trophies?

(crows cawing)

He's eating them.

Katherine Pimms?

Yes.

I'm Special Agent Jack Crawford with the FBI.

This is Agent Zeller and Agent Price.

We'd like to speak with you about two of your former patients.

Would you like to come in?

When was the last time you saw Duncan Halloran or Lloyd Roat?

Whenever our last appointments were.

I can check in my calendar, if you want.

Sure.

Have you found them?

Yes, we have.

Mr. Halloran is deceased.

And Mr. Roat might as well be.

Whew...

Poor Mr. Halloran...

What were you treating him for?

That man trudged from disease to disease.

He had severe combined immunodeficiency.

Life didn't seem to be going his way.

Please.

Thank you.

Hm...

I find that, uh, people don't get their own way because, um, they often don't know themselves where that way leads.

Mr. Halloran, he couldn't envision a dignified end of life.

So, it's much nicer to die, well, for him, to die in a meadow, a head full of bees.

Have you tried the honey?

No.

I couldn't bring myself to either. It seemed too morbid.

So you left him in the field to die?

I brought him to the field to die. I didn't kill him.

I quieted his mind so that he could die in peace.

And Mr. Roat?

You quieted his mind, too?

Oh, him.

He suffered crippling arthritis.

After he was quieted... I saw him walk pain-free for the very first time in his life.

I can't make pain go away, but I can make it so that it doesn't matter.

I-I protected them.

I protected these people from hopelessness.

And that's beautiful.

Please come in.

It's a little unnerving, not being able to walk across the floor.

Nothing can be so unnerving for someone strong as being weak.

I was so weak after chemotherapy, Jack had to physically pick me up.

It was the second time he carried me across the threshold.

I brought you something.

A gift?

Paying my debt.

Coq Gaulois.

For helping me understand that death is not a defeat, but a cure.

What have you taken, Bella?

My morphine.

Every bit of it.

I didn't want to die at home.

I didn't want Jack to find me.

I didn't want him to make that call... to be in the room with my body, waiting... for it to become some ceremonial object apart from him, separate from who I was, someone he can only... hold in his mind.

You denied him his goodbye.

I denied him... a painful goodbye.

And allowed myself a peaceful one.

Tell Jack... I love him very much.

Yes.

Goodbye, Dr. Lecter.

Goodbye, Bella.

Hey. Have you seen Jack?

Oh. No, no, no, there was, uh, some emergency with his wife. Dr. Lecter called from the hospital, asked him to come down.

Is Mrs. Crawford okay?

I don't know. He didn't say.

So Hannibal's at the hospital, too?

(moaning softly)

Hi, baby.

Hey.

I'm here.

I'm here.

What are you doing here?

I want to apologize.

I couldn't honor what you asked of me.

I'm sorry.

(coughing)

Get out.

Gotcha.

(creaking)

Oh, my God.

(gunshots)