Hannibal

Previously on Hannibal...

- I want you to admit what you are. - You still refuse to see

- the monster growing inside you. - I want exclusive rights to your story.

It's all yours, Freddie. What is the heir to the Verger

meatpacking dynasty doing at my door?

We have some very similar issues. I tried to kill my brother.

- I assume he had it coming. - They're looking for you.

It's important you do ay.

I'd say this makes us even.

I sent someone to kill you...

you sent someone to kill me.

Even-steven.

Consider it an act of reciprocity.

Polite society normally places such a taboo on taking a life.

Without death, we'd be at a loss.

It's the prospect of death that drives us to greatness.

Did you kill him with your hands?

It was...

intimate.

It deserves intimacy.

You were Randall Tier's final enemy.

Don't go inside, Will.

You'll want to retreat.

You'll want it

as the glint of the rail tempts us when we hear the approaching train.

Stay with me.

Where else would I go?

You have everywhere to go.

You should be quite pleased.

I am.

Of course you are.

When you killed Randall,

did you fantasize you were killing me?

Most of what we do,

most of what we believe, is motivated by death.

I've never felt as alive as I did when I was killing him.

Then you owe Randall Tier a debt.

How will you repay him?

The killer chose not to dispose of the body,

but to display it.

A jarring reminder of the informality of death.

Randall Tier was

denied the respectful end that he himself denied others.

This is a humiliation,

- a final indignity. - He isn't mocking him.

This isn't disdain.

He's... commemorating him.

This killer has no fear

for the consequences of what he's done.

No guilt.

Hello again.

Come closer.

I want to see you.

Can you see you?

Clearer and clearer.

You forced me to kill you.

I didn't force you to enjoy it.

You made me a monument.

You're welcome.

The monument is not to me; it's to you.

I gave you what you want.

This is who you are.

What you feel finally matches the reality of what I see.

This is my becoming.

And it's yours.

This is my design.

He knew his killer.

There's a...

familiarity here.

Someone who met him,

understood him.

Someone like him.

Different pathology,

same instinct.

His killer empathized with him?

Don't mistake understanding for empathy, Jack.

No, if there's anything, it's...

it's envy.

Envy?

Randall Tier came into his own

much easier than whoever killed him.

This was a fledgling killer. He's never killed before,

not like this.

Not like this, no.

This is the nightmare that followed him out of his dreams.

I've upped the ante on my publishing deal.

There's been movie interest.

Hollywood is a fine place for the obnoxious and wealthy.

You're not wealthy, Freddie.

Oh, I will be.

No, I am a pariah among journalists

because I took a different faith,

but I am putting that faith in you.

Let's talk

about the Chesapeake Ripper.

Frederick Chilton. Who knew?

Who knew?

No one did. No one would, not even you.

You were so certain the Chesapeake Ripper

was Hannibal Lecter, you tried to kill him.

You neglected to say "allegedly".

No, I didn't.

Hannibal Lecter is your psychiatrist again.

What's up with that?

I was wrong about him; That's what's up with that.

Maybe you were.

Maybe you weren't.

Dr. Chilton was the Chesapeake Ripper.

The Chesapeake Ripper had surgical skills Dr. Chilton did not.

- They had the same profile. - Dr. Chilton was

a woeful surgeon - dangerous, even.

I've been chatting with some of his old medical school chums.

They say he fled to psychiatry to avoid embarrassment.

My story

with the Chesapeake Ripper already has an ending, Freddie.

Mine doesn't.

Do you really think Dr. Chilton killed Abigail Hobbs?

I don't.

Even if I let this story go,

I will never let that go.

Trust me, Freddie...

neither will I.

You know you will have to kill him, Margot.

You've known it for years.

- I may have missed my opportunity. - Do you know

why you failed to murder him, Margot?

Poor planning.

You failed to murder your brother because you still love him.

In love, you take leave of your senses, but in hatred,

you must be present to calculate your actions.

Allow yourself to hate him.

Do you think Mason will just give you what you want?

You'll be begging him for the rest of your life.

Did begging help when he tore you?

Same thing as taking his chocolate and letting him have his way.

I'm lucky I didn't kill him.

Papa's will was very clear.

Upon the passing of his beloved son Mason,

in the absence of a legitimate male heir,

the sole beneficiary shall be the Southern Baptist Convention.

Even in death, Mason would take everything from you.

One of the most powerful forces that shapes us as human beings

is the desire to leave a legacy.

What legacy would you leave behind?

I don't get a legacy.

Unless you make one.

Have a good ride?

Here, put him away.

What do you want?

What do I want? What do I want?

What do I want? What do I want?

I... want... to...

share something

with you.

This is.

Pavlov. Say hello, Pavlov.

Say hello.

Margot, say hello to Pavlov.

Hi, pretty.

After Papa died, I had a Christmas epiphany.

I've seen exotic pigs from all over the world.

What would happen

if I brought together

the best of all that I had seen?

You built a maze.

I shudder to think.

I feel like Stradivarius.

Our father was a pioneer

in livestock production. I think he'd be...

he'd be proud of my efforts.

A pig is not like other animals.

There is a spark of intelligence,

a terrible practicality in pigs.

Well, you do have an unparalleled understanding

of piggishness.

Your mouth gets rough when you're scared, Margot.

Tough as a livery pony

who is resentful of the bit.

The structure is designed

to excite and antagonize the pigs.

It's taken a while to find

the perfect mix. Any pig will eat a dead man,

but to get him to eat a live one,

some... education is required.

Carlo is experienced in this field.

He actually fed a man to pigs in Tuscany 20 years ago.

That's one of my suits.

I'll buy you a new one.

We... stuff the clothes with meat,

scent it with human smells, and play

the screams every time they are fed.

Come the real thing, we won't need the recording.

It's not just about

making Papa proud. It's about us.

It's about... family.

I want you to be proud of me too, Margot.

You're all I have.

And, uh... I'm all you have.

And this little piggy went

"eeeeeeeeee-eeeeeee-eeee," all the way home.