01 | 🕐 | audio

[mirrortouch]

[ It's not something that really ever becomes routine, it doesn't matter how often he wakes up someplace strange and uncharted. The voice on the line sounds about as scattered as he feels. ]

My name is Will Graham, it's- [ He's pulling back his sleeve to look for a watch that's not there. ] I don't have the time. I don't- I don't have the time.

[ Hang on, don't get too lost. ]

It's not clear to me exactly where I am, but- [ a dry laugh ] you probably already knew that. This isn't even my phone. But you probably knew that too.

[ He's missing details. He's missing plenty. His voice trails off for a short while before he can get his bearings enough to speak again, and even then it's almost unconsciously. ] I don't know. I don't know.

[ It's as if the fact that he has no idea sparks him back into the present. His voice grows more composed, if somewhat cracked. ] So if you're hearing this, if anyone is hearing this - [ is anyone hearing this? ] - any singular indication will be key.

[ Another beat. ]

I feel as though I've strayed a long, long way from home.

[ The air goes dead, and then so does the line. ]

Comments

[lastincident]

Mr. Graham? [ Bruce's voice is calm, the cadence of his words even and careful, as rhythmic as a metronome. ]

I'm Bruce Banner, head of the infirmary here. You have died, and reached the barge. It's a way station for lost souls between life and death.

Are you injured or at all unwell? The infirmary is on the second level. If you step outside your room your door will have a number. The first is the deck, the second is the room number.

[mirrortouch]

Well, I'm not bleeding.

[ Died. That's - funny, that's really clever. He's laughing on the inside.

The thing is that he remembers something like it. Three hits: Gut, lungs, heart, in quick succession, that still ache in their own certain ways for whatever reason. Call it a dream, but especially call it an inability to suspend that much belief. ]

Level Two, Room Five, yes, I'm aware. Are you always so glib with your patients, Dr. Banner?

[halfofeverything]

Yes, well, that's because you have. Welcome to prison. You ought to know up front that your civil liberties were left behind on whatever patch of land you were abducted from.

[mirrortouch]

[ Comforting. ]

Yes, thank you - for the warm welcome, but it's not actually my first time. I'm - [ Firmer: ] No, I'm sorry, nobody's exactly told me what I've been charged with yet.

[routemistress]

Will. I should calm down a bit if I were you. I can't promise you much, but I can promise you 'ave time. As much as you need. That's not a thing we're short of 'ere.

And you are a long way from 'ome, I'm afraid. But we'll 'elp as much as we can.

[mirrortouch]

Those imprisoned together must band together? While I appreciate the, ah, sincerely optimistic attitude -

You know, I'd call 'lawyer' if I noticed anything else here that was orthodox.

[godsays]

Just one indication?

I'd say you're not insane. But you might be.

[mirrortouch]

Those ... are the two choices.

One indication to have started with would have been too much to ask, I suppose.

[Video]

[deadly_ned]

Hi Will. I'm. Ned.

This is Digby.

[He gives a slight indication of his head to the sleeping golden retriever behind him]

You are a long way from home. I'm not sure how best to break it to you except to come right out with it.

I'm sorry.

But it won't be for forever.

[mirrortouch]

Being - ephemeral in nature is one thing right.

[ Sorry, Ned, you can't pay him enough to return that video. Speaker phone it is.

But Digby does win you points. ]

They let you have a dog here, Ned?

[Private]

[youwill]

[Hannibal is torn. Will being here means, not necessarily that he has died, but that he has come close - yet he must consider the worst, and the worst is not only that Will died, but that Hannibal himself was forced to kill him.

He is dismayed by the prospect, if he is to be honest with himself.

Yet here Will is, clearly an inmate. Perhaps he's getting ahead of himself. He can't avoid considering the best as well, and that would be a wonderful thing, having a true friend here.

He doesn't smile when he turns the camera on, lets concern travel across his features in his usual downplayed way.]

A very long way, Will.

[Private]

[mirrortouch]

[ At once, his heart's in his throat. That gut-wrenching feeling that doesn't just come with being (presumably, maybe, it can't have been) shot. Something much more visceral than that.

The trick, as always, is to keep himself calm.

He could laugh. But then he'd laugh. And keep laughing himself silly until he'd never stop. He might still laugh, which is why his voice is all the more tighter than he means for it to be.

(Only voice. Like hell is Will Graham Skyping.) ]

You're - in prison?

[versusnurture]

Hi, Daddy.

[Which, of course, she's said once before. To help cement Hannibal in a lie; to protect herself, most of all. This time, it's clear she's joking, even if it's not a kind joke - even if the streak of cruelty in her voice is strong.]

[She drops it, after a moment. She doesn't think she's angry at him. (Maybe she is. This is an impossible situation.)]

Everyone's hearing this.

[And, vaguely reproachful,] What did you do?

[mirrortouch]

[ There's very few people in the world to whom those two words, and that voice - where that combination would carry any significance. Of course it does, it's a voice that's haunted him for long enough. It's a voice that makes his hair stand on end, more over. ]

You're -

[ As if he thought he was disoriented before. Even the skeptic in him seems to viscerally accept - or wants to accept - the idea that this isn't some extension of a cruel joke. So his voice comes out in a breath, confused, heart in his throat all over again in an entirely different way: ]

Abigail?

private

[deshabille]

You're on the Barge. If you didn't make a deal to come here, you've probably died, and you're probably not going to be terrifically happy when I tell you that there's nothing to be done for it but to stay and endure.

The time, I think, is nine thirty-three in the morning. If that helps.

You're going to give me a headache being here, aren't you? I can already tell.

private

[mirrortouch]

[ His lips purse. ] I can't say it does exactly. [ Help. Maybe a little. ]

Oh, you're getting the headache. [ There's a restrained scoff somewhere in all of there. ] Am I expected to be a particularly rowdy addition? Being among the - how should I put it, the ostensibly recently deceased?

[sssiiiiirrrrr]

It's all right, Mister Graham. Arriving here is alarming to everyone, but it will be all right.

Has anyone explained to you where you are yet?

[mirrortouch]

Will it?

[ It's a legitimate question, given what he's evidenced so far. ]

I've - been made aware of the apparent situation.

[ It still hasn't settled in him entirely, oil and water trying to mix in his stomach. ]

[private]

[halftheman]

Will Graham?

I'm Harvey Dent. Abigail's spoken to us about you. We'd like to speak to you, once you're settled. No rush; the barge is disorienting, even if your death was expected or nonviolent.

[ Harvey is so casual about death, yet so polite. It's for Abigail's sake that he remembers the manners and charm he used to wield in the courtroom like a rapier. ]

[private]

[mirrortouch]

[ 'Us', 'we'. There's a lot to consider in Harvey Dent, and it takes Will a full few seconds to gain his bearings. He doesn't want to talk about Freddie Lounds, which means he really doesn't want to talk about any and all potentially expected or nonviolent deaths. He focuses on the inevitable: ]

Abigail has?

[ Private : Voice ]

[warisart]

Hello, Will Graham. My name is Ben. Has anyone explained to you the function of the Barge and how it works yet, sir?

[ Private : Voice ]

[mirrortouch]

I've, ah - had my eyes opened, as it were.

[ His tone heavily suggests it's something he'd rather gloss over. ]

There's no need to stand on ceremony, Ben; Will is just fine.

[secretasshole]

[Well, hello there, familiar name. Familiar, in that he's seen Hannibal's creepy ass drawings of you, asked questions about it and thus maybe heard the tiniest bit about who you actually are, so. Color this android curious.]

Do you require further assistance, Mr. Graham? [He's seen Dr. Banner's already directed you to the infirmary if you need it, which honestly probably would have been his first step taken, too. You're definitely sounding a little dazed, even for a new arrival.]

[mirrortouch]

[ Dazed, with any manner of luck, hasn't come particularly new to Will. Dazed but trying forcibly to remain outside of the realm of confused. ]

Oh - oh, no, helpfulness isn't something this place is at a particular lack for. [ Meaning he's gotten his fair share of assistance already, and he's at a loss for how else to include anyone in on that. Short of a hand-held tour around the place, well - ] The situation, at the very least, has been made very apparent to me.

[imfollowinghim]

You have, but so've the rest of us, so you could probably do worse.

Sounds like the welcome wagon's already got you caught up on what's going on.

[mirrortouch]

[ He can't help the scoff of a laugh there, but it's at least a mere breathless huff of one. ]

The welcome wagon has pamphlets.

[diealone]

[He's not on shift, and it's still really easy to convince himself that he doesn't really give a damn about most of the people here, but. Maybe it's not that hard to feel something like sympathy for someone who sounds this bad on first getting here, because he definitely remembers being confused and mad as hell about being here against his will.

He's still mad as hell, honestly.]

Did you find Dr. Banner?

[mirrortouch]

The first person I stumbled across, actually.

[ 'Mad as hell' is a fair assessment. More over anything Will just feels angry that this was allowed to happen, no matter where he stands on the whole - well, being dead thing. He knows it's still evident in the tightness of his voice, but it's a different horse entirely from the disorientation he felt upon showing up here. ]

There's nothing physically wrong, I'm - I'm fine. [ in that sense, at least. ]

[shakenandlimp]

We are all a long way from home, Mister Graham. Don't worry about the time-- it'll keep, whatever it is you're worried about.

You look as if you need a stiff drink more than anything.

[mirrortouch]

[ It'll keep, yeah; so does formaldehyde, but it doesn't mean he makes a habit of drinking it. Will's hand mops unseen at his face. ]

At least one.

[praesidium]

[It's not a voice that Alana had been expecting to hear for some time. Or maybe she had and she had just been convincing herself that she wouldn't or possibly couldn't. She wants to be happy to hear him again, at the prospect of seeing him. But he shouldn't be here.]

[Will has been dangerously swaying on the precipice of something he can't come back from. She knows now, for certain, that he was not responsible for the copy cat murders. But how much had Will doubted himself, doubted his own sanity along the way? How much pushing, prodding, or guidance from Hannibal would it take before something happened and she wouldn't recognize Will anymore? Being here on the Barge, Alana can't see how that won't do anything but push him just a little further to that edge.]

[Especially when he doesn't seem to have any recollection as to how he managed to make it on the Barge itself. Alana knows what that means and she feels her stomach sink, squeezing her eyes shut tight. Winston perks from the couch at the sound of Will's voice, leaping down to cross the room to her desk. She runs a hand through his fur, trying to piece together how to approach this, what to say until she finally just settles on something.]

Will, it's Alana.

[mirrortouch]

[ It's impossible for all of these voices to be here where he is and so much calmer than him, so much more settled as though here for ages beyond his own reckoning. He feels displaced once again upon hearing Alana's voice, in a less-than-subtly different way than with both Hannibal and Abigail. Call him presently, violently adjusting definitions. Especially to words like 'impossible'.

It had been distinctly outlined to him thus far that wardens showed up of their own accord, inmates did not. He's already been made aware of the fact that he's stupidly outed himself before he could even gain access to a home field advantage, but that's neither here nor there. It's not hard to guess what she's doing here, but then again it's not the first time he's been on the opposite side of the prophetic bars from her, has he? There's no need to be shy now, though he does pause for a beat before he can bring himself to answer. ]

Presumably, you've struck some sort of deal with those much higher up than me.

[ Maybe it's said a little woefully, but it's generally been true of the two of them that Alana will have her shit together, whether Will does or not. Alana isn't of a particularly 'inmate'-esque quality.

He rarely has his shit together. His shit is scattered across some metaphorical floor in too many shards to properly piece back together anymore. ]

[advocacy]

[This is about the calmest distress Daneca has ever heard. Not that she hears much distress in his voice, but he obviously doesn't know where he is and is grasping at straws as far as figuring that out is concerned.]

You're broadcasting to everyone on the Barge right now. I'm sure you've got a lot of questions, but you're not hurt or anything, are you?

[mirrortouch]

There is no - physical injury to attribute.

[ It's a very careful truth, at the least. He feels injured by the place, sure, but he's not bleeding or anything. ]

You know, it's funny how I started off with the initial question - that is, the 'how' - and ended up with a multitude and then some.

voice;

[adelphoktonos]

[She follows his public conversations first before replying herself, curiosity raised by Abigail's reaction to him. Daddy, she'd said, joke or not.]

What is home to you, Will Graham?

voice;

[mirrortouch]

Generally not prison.

[ He's not sure he even has the capacity to answer the question correctly right about now. In a usual mindset, he'd just claim Wolf Trap and leave it at that. Alana, Winston, Abigail. Hannibal. This has left him in a decidedly unusual mindset. ]

There's only dustings of home here, like a tattered baby blanket's nostalgia trying to make up for the sick smell of hospital room.

[shakenandlimp]

I have been told I'm not to threaten new inmates with a flogging or read the articles of war to'm, so you will have to settle for a drink. [And he will be there at the door to the pub, a broad-shouldered, stocky Englishman dressed in an old Royal Navy uniform, out of date by a couple centuries now.]